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cjsinkythoughts · 3 years

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Rocks, Shoulders, and Ears

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 3501

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Major Angst in this one, guys, Loads of Feels (sorry not sorry), John Walker being a douche (I really don’t like the guy)

A/N: I’m SO SORRY! I promise I was planning on it being shorter, but I went a little overkill with the angst! There’s just so many feelings and not enough space in my heart and soul, so I had to pour them out here! You get to see more of Reader and Sam’s relationship in this one and there’s major Bucky Feels towards the end (in my defense, this is based on the Couples Therapy half of the episode).

I’m really hoping we get to see Bucky go to Louisiana next episode! I’m holding out for it! I have a few ideas that include Sarah, but I need the episode! Ugh! Now we have to wait a whole ‘nother week! I really shouldn’t write three chapters on one episode in one day. I just couldn’t help myself!

Anyways! Please enjoy this part and thank you so much for all your support! Seriously, it’s meant so much to me, especially after the week I’ve had! If you haven’t checked out the previous parts, my FATWS Series Masterlist is HERE, so please go read those first. Like always, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Enjoy, babes!

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The last thing you remembered was falling asleep in Bucky’s arms after walking a few miles. And a hospital in DC wasn’t exactly what you preferred waking up to, but it’s what happened. Turned out, not only was your shoulder dislocated and your thigh was strained, but you had a mild concussion. Your arm was in a sling and your palm, which you had completely forgotten about after you wrapped it while on Bucky’s back, was wrapped properly. Luckily, your thigh wasn’t too bad, but they wanted to put you on crutches, which you refused immediately.

You had to get out of that building. You had no idea where the guys went, which was weird because you were sure they’d never leave you alone. Especially in a hospital.

You quickly snuck your way through the halls after grabbing your bag which - thank God - was left on the seat besides your bed and changing into an extra pair of clothes.

You tried calling Bucky’s phone, the one he had specifically for you, which he always always answered. He even made an excuse to go to the bathroom once when you accidentally called in the middle of a therapy session. Nothing. You called the number four times before trying Sam’s phone.

It clicked on the first try.

“Hey. Listen, sorry for leaving-”

“Where the hell are you?”

You heard him sigh. “I was just about to explain, so hang on a second there. You weren’t waking up, probably because that concussion you forgot to mention to us-”

“In my defense, I didn’t know.”

“Sure you didn’t.” You rolled your eyes, throwing your free hand up, exasperated. “Anyways, Bucky wanted me to meet someone, we’ll talk about that when you inevitably get here, put we had a bit of trouble and Bucky was arrested-”

“What?!”

“Chill your pants, Y/L/N. Just listen. We’re in Baltimore. I’ll text you the address. Get here soon and I’ll explain the whole thing. We’ve been here for a couple hours, but there’s people on their way and we’re getting everything situated right now.”

“Okay. Fine. But you’re in trouble.”

“Don’t I know it, babe. Now hurry your cute little ass here. We’ve got stuff to talk about.”

*****************

The ride from DC to Baltimore is usually an hour or so, but you’ve got resources, especially in the nation’s capital, and riding the bike you got, being able to go way over the speed limit? You got there in half the time. Being an Avenger really does have its perks.

The moment you got there, you hopped off the bike, not even bothering to turn it off, and stormed into the precinct. You headed straight over to the desk, but a pair of hands caught you by your uninjured arm before you could make a scene.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Sam spoke softly, squeezing your bicep gently. “He’s okay, alright?”

“Why is he-”

“He missed his court-mandated therapy session.” Sam informed you, pulling you over to where he had been sitting previously. “There was a warrant out for his arrest. They had to bring him in, but it’s fine. His therapist’s been contacted. She should be here any minute to get him out.”

Your head fell back at his words. His therapy. How could you forget? You let Bucky complain to you about it and played along sometimes, but you really did think it was good for him and you tried supporting him. Yet you made him miss it and now he’s in trouble.

“Hey. Y/N. Look at me.” You found Sam’s worried eyes, his hand coming up to hold the side of your neck. “He’s okay. He’ll be out in just a bit. It’s fine.”

“It’s my fault, Sam.”

“No. It’s not. He’s a grown ass man who made the decision to skip.”

You shook your head, holding his wrist for something to anchor you down. “No, Sammy. I brought him along. I should’ve been more responsible-”

“I know we’ve joked around about you being in charge and stuff, but…you know it’s not all on your shoulders, right?” Sam tilted his head slightly, eyebrow pinched in confusion making his eyes narrow.

You turned your head, not wanting to look at him. You didn’t need another set of deep eyes to fall into. “Sammy…I promised him I’d look after you.”

“I know. And that’s fine. But looking after us - looking after him - doesn’t mean you have to be there to hold his hand and take the fall for him. He’s not a child. Hell, he’s a hundred years old. Tell me you understand that.”

Licking your lips, you closed your eyes and shook your head again. “I-I can’t-”

“Is that why you’re obsessed with finding Wanda?”

You frowned at his question, eyes snapping to his. “I’m worried about her, Sam.”

“I am too, but she can handle herself. And if she doesn’t want to be found, you have to let her be. I know the Avengers were your only family. I know how much Steve meant to you-”

“No.” You pulled away rather harshly, digging your nails into your palms, trying not to cry, ignoring the wound you were irritating. “No, you don’t. How could you understand my feelings for Steve when I don’t understand them myself?”

Sam always had this ability to make anyone feel important, just by looking them in the eye. It was something you always admired about him; the way his smile could light up a room, those warm eyes making everyone’s fears go away. They reminded you of hot chocolate. Something that could soothe your worries, comfort you, warm your very soul from the ice tragedy and heartache tend to big on.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry in front of people, but with the way he was looking at you, it was hard to keep the tears from slipping.

“You loved him, Y/N. Why is it so hard for you to see that?”

“I didn’t - I wasn’t in love with him, Sam.” You argued, wiping your cheeks aggressively and turning, crossing your arms defensively.

“What do you call it then?”

It was a rhetorical question, Sam copying your movements and sitting straight to watch for Bucky coming out. A rhetorical question that you didn’t know the answer to. Because you weren’t in love with Steve. No. Maybe you had been, but somewhere along the way he passed your heart to Bucky. So why did it hurt so bad?

You refused to dwell on it anymore, clearing your throat and dabbing at your eyes one more time before changing the topic. “Why are we in Baltimore?”

“Bucky wanted me to meet someone. Isaiah. You know him?” Sam turned back to you, his warm eyes shifting into something else. Suspicion? A bit of anger? Annoyance? You couldn’t tell.

“Isaiah? I don’t think I know any Isaiahs. And definitely not here. Why? Who is he?”

Sam shook his head, eyes darting around the lobby. “We’ll talk about it later.”

You nodded, although now your curiosity had peaked and you wondered who this guy was that made Sam so agitated. While you waited, you felt your eyes drooping and you let your head fall onto Sam’s shoulder, who chuckled.

“You’re still tired? You know you slept for, like, twelve hours, right?”

“I haven’t been sleeping much.”

Sam turned his head to kiss yours. “Y/N, I know you want to care for everyone, but you’ve gotta take care of yourself too.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” And with that, the subject dropped, Sam pulling out his phone while you rested your eyes.

It was another ten minutes or so before Sam’s name was called and the both of you stood up to greet the speaker. A woman, Dr. Raynor. Bucky’s infamous therapist.

And speaking of infamous. The moment you heard his voice, you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping it was just your brain malfunctioning. And then he was walking towards you, calling Bucky ‘Bucky’ like they were old pals and he was saving him from something terrible.

Your face scrunched up as Walker talked about stopping Bucky’s regular therapy sessions. “He’s too valuable of an asset to have him tied up-”

“Don’t call him an asset.” You snapped. “He’s a human being with needs, and therapy-”

“He’s a super soldier with skills that we need.” Walker cut in, making you scowl as he turned back to Raynor.

You scoffed in disbelief at his words, turning on your heel and walking away before he did, heading straight for Bucky, who lifted his right arm, wrapping it around your shoulders once you were close enough.

“Are you okay?” You whispered, closing your eyes and trying to relax in his hold, breathing him in.

“Are you? Should you be walking? What did-”

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

“Really?”

“Promise.” You sighed out with a nod, squeezing him once more before pulling back as Raynor stepped forwards, ordering Bucky and Sam to do a session with her. You almost laughed when Sam tried refusing, a little chuckle actually leaving your lips when Bucky slumped, dragging his feet like a kid going to the principal’s office.

You followed, Bucky holding the door open for you. “Thanks, Buck.”

“Of course, doll.” He gave a small smile, before walking in after you, Sam letting out a, “hey!” when Bucky shut the door on him, making you roll your eyes. You let the corners of your mouth tick up slightly in amusement. Yes, they annoyed the hell out of you, but you had to admit it was pretty funny sometimes.

“I believe I asked for James and Sam, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“It’s Agent, actually, and I think I’m gonna sit in.”

Raynor narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think-”

“That wasn’t a request.” You threw her words to Sam back at her, making Sam smirk. You shot him a wink as she relented with a sigh.

“Fine. Just as a spectator. Don't interrupt.”

You raise your hands in surrender, slipping around the table to stand in the corner as your fellas sank down into the seats across the table from her.

A small puff of laughter came from you at the lack of response when she asked one of them to start. She shot you a warning look over her shoulder, but you shrugged. You couldn’t help it; it was like all those times back in grade school when a teacher asked for a volunteer to read in a classroom full of rowdy kids and crickets followed.

Once she mentioned the next exercise was used for couples, you had to laugh, making both men shoot you begging pouts.

“Y/N.” Raynor glared at you, so you controlled yourself, gesturing for her to continue.

Her miracle question did work so well, neither of them cooperating well.

She didn’t even bother with you when you started cackling after she mentioned the “soul-gazing exercise” and Bucky thanked her, Sam commenting that he would like this one. You gave a teasing wolf-whistle when they got close, one of Bucky’s thighs between Sam’s and vice versa.

“Doll.” Bucky whined at you.

“Listen here, smartass-”

Raynor cleared her throat, cutting Sam off from finishing his statement towards you. You leaned back against the wall, crossing your arms with a smirk. After all the bickering and side taking they’ve put her through, letting you enjoy this was the least they could do, and they knew it.

Of course, this exercise didn’t work out either. A staring contest. Children. She was best friends with literal children.

But then something happened. Something you never thought would happen. Raynor asked Bucky why Sam aggravated him, and Bucky looked over to you, his eye growing sad in a way they only did when Steve was involved.

“Steve believed in you.” Bucky told him earnestly. “He trusted you. He gave you that shield for a reason. That shield? That is…that is everything he stood for. That is his legacy. He gave you that shield, and you threw it away like it was nothing. So maybe he was wrong about you. And if he was wrong about you, he was wrong about me.”

You heard his voice crack a little at the end as he slumped down in his seat, you jaw dropping slightly. You listened to the rest of the conversation, catching the way Sam grew irritated again, something that you didn’t previously think was possible, but was happening more and more now.

Why wasn’t Sam talking to you? Why was he holding all this in suddenly? And why…Bucky…he didn’t tell you that. Why didn’t he say anything? How could he ever feel…

But you knew how he could feel like that. Yes, Steve believed in him so much that he tore the Avengers apart for him…but he was the only one willing to do that for him. Yeah, you and Sam and Wanda and Clint, you all joined their side but, being honest, it wasn’t because you believed in Bucky. It was because you believed in Steve. Of course, it was different now. You believed in Bucky with your entire being, and you believed in Sam with your heart and soul, but…did either of them know that? Did they believe you when you told them? Or did you not tell them enough? This whole time you thought you were doing right by Steve - trying you damn hardest to watch out for them. But it obviously wasn’t enough. And that was on you, no matter what Sam said.

You read people. That’s what you’ve always done, that’s what you’d always do. It was the reason you earned your spot on the team. You read people and situations and could figure your way into their heads in a second. Years and years of undercover work taught you how to do that and how to protect yourself while doing so.

So why? How? How did you miss something this big? How did you miss the way Sam was holding onto something? Why did you ignore the vexation in his tone for the last couple weeks? How did you miss that Bucky was hurting that deeply? Why didn’t you do anything more for him?

You left the room before either of the boys, but you heard Sam standing up as you walked out the door.

You should’ve known you weren’t the only one holding things in. Of course they were. The difference is, you were supposed to be their rock, the thing they could hold onto to ground themselves, the shoulder for them to cry on, and the ear lent to them whenever they needed someone to listen. That was your job. It wasn’t their job. Not for you. Your rock - your shoulder, your ear - he left you. And you thought, after all he did for you, if you just returned the favor for his best friends, you’d…you dunno. You’d be closer to him, maybe.

But you couldn’t. Because you weren’t Steve Rogers. And you knew that from the start, but you had to try. You tried. And it wasn’t working. He made it seem so easy when he did it for you. Clearly you didn’t give him enough credit for dealing with all your shit on top of his own.

“Doll.” You didn’t stop walking, needing to get outside for some fresh air. “Doll, hold on. Wait a minute.”

He grabbed your arm as you made it outside, spinning you to face him. “You didn’t tell me.” You spoke quietly, your voice fragile as you stared at him, confusion and hurt in your eyes. Were you really that bad at doing your job? Did you really already fail him? He asked you to do one thing…

“I didn’t…I didn’t want you to deal with my problems.” You opened your mouth, but he shook his head, holding your face between his hands. “I’m not stupid, Y/N. I know something’s going on with you. You’re good at hiding your nightmares at night, but I’m better. You’re jumpier than usual. Quieter. Every time Wanda’s brought up, you turn away. And the other day? On the truck? You froze. I was watching, doll. It was just a second, but you froze. You never freeze.”

“It’s not your job to worry about me, Buck-”

He frowned, tilting his head. “Not my job? Aren’t we friends? Isn’t that what friends do? Or am I just a job to you? I know you promised him to look after me. Is that all I am to you? A responsibility?”

You shook your head vigorously, holding onto his wrists. “No. No, Bucky, I just-”

“Do you think he was wrong about me?”

Salty diamonds ran down your cheeks as you clenched your eyes shut and shook your head. “No.”

“Did you ever believe in me? Did you ever care or was it all just because Steve? Is Steve the only reason you tolerate me?”

“Don’t say that. God, please don’t say that.” You begged quietly, meeting his gaze again. Every beautiful detail was laced with devastation, eyes imploring her to make him feel better. “Of course I believe in you. I have since Wakanda, you know that. Yes, okay, maybe Steve is why I helped you at first, but-but…I care about you, James. So much so that it hurts sometimes. He wasn’t wrong about you. Or Sammy. You both mean so much to me. Okay?”

You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly, nodding slightly. You both simultaneously moved to get closer, him pulling you while you stepped into his chest, arms around his waist. His arms were tight around your shoulder, holding you just as firm as the kiss he planted on your forehead.

Sam came out, planting himself besides you as you pulled away, Bucky wiping your eyes. “I feel better.” He huffed out sarcastically, making you smack him in the arm. “Ow! Yeesh. Women these days.”

The sudden siren of one of the parked police cars made the three of you look over, spotting Walker and Hoskins. You groaned. “Did he see that?”

“Hey,” Bucky caught your jaw between his fingers, shaking his head. “Who cares? It’s between us and us only. Right?” You nodded, making him kiss your forehead again, a whisper of “attagirl” against your skin. You hadn’t heard that from him in a while.

“Gentlemen!” Walker waved them over, nodding at you. “And lady.” The three of you reluctantly walked over, Bucky going to lean on the police car Walker and Hoskins were near and you hopped up to sit on the hood of the police car across from them, Sam besides you.

You got information from Walker, who was once again trying to get you to work with him, but Sam summed it up nicely, explaining that the three of you didn’t have to follow the rules he did. You started to leave, Bucky tucking you under his arms once you slid off the car, when Walker stopped you once more.

“A word of advice, then. Stay the hell out of my way.”

You grumbled under your breath as the faker and his lapdog walked off. “I’m gonna kill him.” You vowed as the three of you started in the other direction. “I swear to God, I’m gonna rip that shield off his back and use it to beat him in that stupid face of his-”

“Down, girl.” Sam jested, flicking your ear. “We need a game plan. What’re we thinking?”

Your eyes narrowed as Bucky piped up, talking about the Isaiah character - who you still didn’t know - before HYDRA entered the equation.

“Absolutely not.” You shook your head, tugging his arm to make him stop once he mentioned Siberia. “Do you remember Siberia? Because if you’re actually suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, we remember Siberia very differently.”

“He’s our best bet-”

“So you’re just going to go sit in a room with this guy?”

Bucky scrunched up his nose. “Ye-yes…”

A beat of silence passed before Sam gave his stamp of approval, but you still disagreed. “There’s no way this’ll end well and I refuse to let you-”

You found your face between Bucky’s hands again. You really wished he’d stop doing that and just ask for your attention. You didn’t mean that, of course. You’d be held by him every second of every day if you could. “Don’t you trust me, doll?”

You licked your lips, looking around the darkened street. This was not a good idea. A bad plan - a terrible plan, really - but, unfortunately, it was the only one you had. “Dammit. I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.” You finally sighed, running a hand through your hair after Bucky let go of you, his eyebrow quirking.

“Is that a yes?”

Sam nodded. “We’re gonna go see Zemo.”

You tugged Bucky’s hand when he nodded back and went to walk after Sam, who started walking around the corner, making him stop. “And yes. I do trust you. With everything I have, Buckaroo.”

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ask-the-eu6 · 2 years

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So, can all of you sing the European Anthem? Or is it just the German-speaking countries who can get the words right? Also: who’s the best singer?

Germany: *Takes a deep breath*

“Alle Menschen werden Brüder, wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt… “

Germany: *Waits a bit before deciding to continue with a little smile*

Belgium: …

Luxembourg: …

Germany: Oh come on, say something… That wasn’t so bad now was it.

Belgium: Hey you free for dinner tonight? I need someone to serenade me to sleep :)

Luxembourg: Sister, please behave!

Luxembourg: But uh yes, Germany that was incredible! You have an amazing voice!

Germany: Thank you… *Flattered*

Netherlands: Alright, alright, prick. Let’s hear it.

France: But with pleasure, mon cher! *blows him a kiss*

Netherlands: Hmmmpf... *rolls his eyes*

France: I’m ready! (Link to the song)

Belgium: Awww, “Let's be united like brothers, with a kiss to the whole world.” That’s so sweet!

Germany: Impressive... If only he put that much work in things that actually matter... *sighs*

Luxembourg: But, Germany, Isn’t joy in Europe important?

Germany: Fine. Fine.

Romano: How typical that you had to make it gay again.

France: Try to do better then~

France: *coughs* SIMP! *coughs*

Romano: *Glares in France’s direction, before breathing in* (Link to the song)

Netherlands: *slow clap* That was actually pretty damn amazing!

Romano: *Blushing bright red* Shut up potato bastard number two!

Belgium: Damn, the second! But yes that was incredible! A lovely version! I also like the version in Latin though...

Italy: *takes Belgium’s hand* Want me to sing that for you, Bellissima?

Belgium: Oh, that would be lovely! *fans self*

Luxembourg: *sighs* female privilege.

Italy: *takes a deep breath* (Link to song)

Germany: Another beautiful version *wipes away a tear*

Italy: Thank you Germany! :D

Luxembourg: I think that except for my sister and brother, you all have beautiful singing voices that are hard to compare! Perhaps we should indicate the worst singer?

Belgium: Don’t you dare…

France: Oh no! the worst possible version I have ever heard was from dear Angleterre as seen here: X

Germany: Yes. uhm… That sure is something…

Luxembourg: Ahahaha yeah alright. You’re not the worst, sis!

Belgium: You little shit! Anyway thank you for your ask!

Some Mun Notes and extra stuff below the cut!

SO how did you like that european propaganda? ;)

Alright so the official English translation (although there are multiple English translations… ) is the following:

Oh friends, no more of these sounds! Let us sing more cheerful songs, More full of joy!

Joy, bright spark of divinity, Daughter of Elysium, Fire-inspired we tread Thy sanctuary! Thy magic power reunites All that custom has divided; All men become brothers Under the sway of thy gentle wings. Whoever has created An abiding friendship, Or has won A true and loving wife, All who can call at least one soul theirs, Join in our song of praise! But any who cannot must creep tearfully Away from our circle. All creatures drink of joy At nature’s breast. Just and unjust Alike taste of her gift; She gave us kisses and the fruit of the vine, A tried friend to the end. Even the worm can feel contentment, And the cherub stands before God! Gladly, like the heavenly bodies Which He set on their courses through the splendor of the firmament; Thus, brothers, you should run your race, As a hero going to conquest. You millions, I embrace you. This kiss is for all the world! Brothers, above the starry canopy There must dwell a loving Father. Do you fall in worship, you millions? World, do you know your Creator? Seek Him in the heavens! Above the stars must He dwell.

There’s also some interesting versions of the anthem out there, some weirder or more modern than others!

Belgian Mun’s absolute favourite, “never fails to make her cry”-version of the European anthem is the following Flashmob around the time of the Lisbon treaty: X DO LISTEN TO THIS ONE!!!!!

An honorable mention for this X multilingual version… However the French and German pronunciation leave to be desired. Luckily the singer apologises in the notes of the video, lol!

Regarding interesting linguistic versions, there is also a version in Esperanto here X, which is a made up language with a combination of rules and word forms from all the European languages.

Here’s an interesting version in English as well… X I believe it was sung by Albanians which is why the accent doesn’t sound native. Still it’s pretty cool because it is a rock version!

Another Rock version here X! With what I believe is Croatian at the end? Is the following:

Then some honourable mentions:

This one by André Rieu, because he’s a musical genius. X

This version with 10 000 Japanese people! X

Ode to Joy but it’s by the Muppets! X

This one but it is sung by cats :3 X

This X bastardisation by the Piano Guys who combined it with “Joy to the world”

And lastly this covid version by this Dutch orchestra who did it over zoom! X

Okay! You’d think I would have gotten tired of the melody after hearing it so often ;) And trust me it’s been stuck in my head for two whole days. YET I AM NOT TIRED OF IT! I adore the European anthem. :D

So yeah... Thank you for your ask dear!

#Hetalia eu #aph France #Aph Germany #APh Italy #APH Belgium #aph Luxembourg #Aph South Italy #Aph ROmano #Aph The Netherlands #Political hetalia #Historical hetalia #in a way.....

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foli-vora · 3 years

Text

more than words, pt.4

A/N: Hello, angels! I hope you’re all safe and healthy! Next instalment is here, and I’m very excited for what’s coming. I really enjoyed writing this chapter so I hope you enjoy, too! Love to you all! (I hope I haven’t forgotten to tag anyone but if I did, I’m really sorry!)

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x f!reader, best friend!Benny Miller x f!reader

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: SO MUCH FLUFF, swearing, brief alcohol mention, bit of spice (reminder: this fic is 18+), Frankie being the tease he is

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.5 / pt.6

Your lips were still tingling when you woke the next morning, eyes fluttering open and a smile creeping onto your face as the events from last night replay through your mind for the millionth time. Frankie had been on your mind the entire drive home, the tenderness of his first kiss kicking your heart into double time, and the pure unrestrained passion of the kiss that followed hitting a far lot lower.

Was it possible for a first date to go as well as it did? There wasn’t a single moment in your time spent with Frankie that had you unsure about his character or intentions.

Benny had actually done it. He had found you a guy you really liked. Is Hell freezing over?

You reach for your phone as you slip from bed, stretching leisurely as you make your way to the kitchen, and finding Benny’s contact before pressing ‘call’. It takes a few rings, until his drawl finally greets you through the phone.

“Did you puke?” is his immediate answer and you roll your eyes, tucking the phone between your ear and shoulder as you putter around your kitchen putting some breakfast together.

“No, you asshole.”

He laughs. “He’s that whipped, he’d probably thank you.”

What? What does that mean? Has Frankie spoken to Benny? Did he talk about last night? What did he say? Did he think it went as well as you did? Shit. Calm down. You try to steady your suddenly quickening pulse, a pleasant flutter consuming your stomach as you attempt to sound casual.

“Oh? Has he said something?”

Benny’s voice is sly, teasing – he knows you far too well. “Maybe.”

“What do you mean ‘maybe’?”

“Maybe I’m sitting next to him right now. And maybe he’s sitting here blushin’ like a little –” Benny grunts suddenly, seemingly in pain, and the phone crackles as he shifts on the other end, “don’t fuckin’ kick me. Anyway, Fish wants to know what you’re wearing.”

You hear him then, raspy voice piping up in the background with an aghast ‘What?! No–’ and then there’s more scuffling, more grunts of pain, and Benny’s snort of laughter.

“What are you even doing up?” Benny redirects his attention to you after a few minutes of bickering with Frankie, words muffled as he talks around whatever food he has rolling around his mouth. He had noted the early time when your face had flashed over his screen, wondering what could’ve possibly gotten you up and out of bed so early on a day off.

You shrug lightly, even though he couldn’t see it, and prepare your pancake batter. “Just couldn’t sleep in.”

He’s quiet, chewing thoughtfully and then asking softly, “You okay?”

“Yeah – I’m fine, just bored sitting at home. For some reason, I wanted to see what you were up to and if you wanted to hang out, but you’re busy so never mind.”

Benny laughs, “Aw, you missin’ me, angel?” he teases.

“Ugh, I take it back. I’d rather sit here in silence and stare at my wall.”

You can hear him laughing even as you pull your phone away and press the red button, shaking your head and smiling to yourself.

A week passes by before you even know it, work taking over much of your week, and much to your delight, Frankie had eagerly organised another night to meet up. You had talked all week of course – a phone call every evening once Mena had been put down for the night, texts here and there throughout the day, and when he had asked if you were free at all over the weekend, you had agreed without a second thought.

Eagerness buzzes through your system the entire day of the date and the drive to the restaurant, a much welcome change from the anxiety riddled one before. It was a breath of fresh air.

Frankie was waiting for you, as he said he would, leaning against the wall of the restaurant and a smile immediately widening his features when his eyes find you.

This time there was no hesitation, no voice in the back of your mind wondering how to tackle the situation. As soon as you saw him – you couldn’t help yourself – you were in his arms and giving him a soft kiss in greeting. Pleasantly surprised, he smiles against your lips, arms winding around your waist, and the electric tingles that rocket up from your palm when his rough hand gently takes yours has your heart going wild in your chest.

It’s dinner instead of drinks this time, and the two of you squeeze yourselves into one side of the leather booths, instead of sitting opposite each other. You order quickly, and sip at your beer while you listen to Frankie talk about his week, the conversation soon moving in all sorts of directions as you wait for your food.

“How could you not?” You cry at one point, slapping a hand on the table and watching his shoulders shake as he laughs, stomach twisting at the pleasant sound of it. “The universe is huge – like, huge. We are not alone.” You say ominously, and he laughs harder, head hitting the back of the booth.

“Where’s the proof?”

“What?”

“The proof! If it’s so big and we’re not the only ones here, where is everyone?”

“It’s a cover up.” You sniff indifferently, sipping your drink and fighting the twitches threatening to turn your pursed lips into a smile. “Oh my god, you were in the military – are you in on it?”

He’s struggling to breathe, cheeks aching under the grin stretching his features and stomach starting to cramp. “In on what?”

“That’s it! You’re part of the cover up!”

“Yeah, you’ve got me. I was actually a part of a crew chasing away UFO’s.”

No longer able to keep it in, you erupt into a fit of violent giggles, melting over the table top and letting the laughter shake your frame. Frankie watches you fondly, affection flooding his system and causing his insides to warm pleasantly.

He was still trying to work out how he was here, with a beautiful woman, having great conversations, fun conversations, and laughing more than he had in… shit… a long time. It was refreshing and, if he were completely honest with himself, slightly nerve-wracking. Nothing ever stays so perfect, and that thought had him ensuring he was enjoying every second he could with you before you inevitably realised you were incredibly out of his league and went looking elsewhere.

But… how could you ever? When you peak up at him, you can’t help but study the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way his dimples deepen in his cheek, and you honestly couldn’t imagine anywhere else in the world you’d rather be. It was… scary. You’d only known him a couple of weeks, and you were feeling like this?

The night melts away before you both even know it happens and soon, you’re snatching up the bill before he can move, and walking out onto the street, Frankie’s arm slung around your shoulders and keeping you pressed close up to his side as a sharp late evening breeze sweeps through you both.

“You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

“Chickens?”

“I’m sorry, but have you ever been chased by a rooster? Those things are fucking vicious, Frankie.”

He grins, shaking his head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Okay, well what about you?”

“Heights.”

What?

You frown, “But you’re a pilot?”

“I can handle heights if I can control the situation. Flying is easy – I know what to do when I need to do it. It’s when something’s out of my control – falling off a cliff and shit. It’s just… a long way down.” He’s quiet, obviously dwelling on something before he’s shaking his head and smiling, “Do you have a favourite book?”

The short walk to your car takes longer with the leisurely pace you both had unconsciously set, wanting to milk the remaining minutes of the date as much as you could before having to part ways.

“Thank you for dinner.” He spins you into his arms and you laugh quietly, smiling.

“You’re welcome.”

Silence falls over you both as you regard the other.

Frankie… your voice is so quiet, the soft whisper of it dances in his ears, igniting a fire through his veins. He unconsciously presses himself closer, lost in the way your lashes flutter when you look at him. You raise a hand, fingers trailing softly against his jaw and he turns his face into your touch, chasing the feeling of your warm fingertips as they glide up and around his neck.

“Kiss me?”

He smiles, enjoying the way your face scrunches slightly as he nuzzles his nose against yours, “Say please,” he mutters playfully, grin widening when you breathe a quiet giggle.

“Please kiss me, Francisco.”

Oh shit.

You don’t miss the way his face slackens for a brief moment, eyes widening and breath seemingly getting caught in his throat. He swallows, the flicker of a flame that had been burning lowly in his stomach suddenly blazes red hot and then he’s moving, hands cupping your cheeks and claiming your mouth with an intensity that had your knees buckling the second his lips touched yours.

You melt instantly, unable to stop the small whimper that bubbles from your mouth as his tongue traces teasingly along your lip. You open your mouth automatically, tongue immediately sliding greedily along his. His mouth was hot, rough against yours, and the grunt he lets out when your fingers dig into the dark curls at the nape of his neck has a delicious heat shooting to your core, your hips rolling against his.

Fuck. Did you just grind on him?

The sudden stab of panic at potentially going too far is quickly extinguished when his hands fly to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer and keeping you tight up against him while his fingers dig hungrily into your flesh.

The sudden blaring of a car alarm has you both jumping apart and a mile high, Frankie’s hands tightening on you instinctively, and it’s not until you look around that you discover it’s your car making that God awful noise that is ripping your ear drums apart.

“Shit,” you fumble for your keys, quickly pressing the button while Frankie chuckles into the skin of your throat, hands softly rubbing up and down along your waist to calm you. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s my fault.” He grins, not at all remorseful for causing such a big disturbance. “It was probably for the best – any longer and we might’ve been arrested for indecent exposure.” The words are growled playfully against your skin, but you can’t help thinking he wasn’t far from the truth. You laugh, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso and placing a final kiss on the corner of his lips.

“Drive safe,” you say as he begins to pull back, and he smiles warmly at you.

“You too.”

You slip into your car, watch him disappear down the street and sigh dreamily, body working on auto-pilot for the drive home while your head remains firmly in the clouds. You could only hope you had actually somewhat paid attention to the road and didn’t miss any stop signs or red lights.

Your phone goes off in your hand when you eventually walk through the door to your apartment, and you read the text as you shrug off your jacket. Your eyes have to read it back and forth a few times before the words actually sink in, and then you’re holding it to your chest, delicately cradling the device while you rest heavily on your door, heat flushing along your cheeks.

I’ve thought about whether or not I should say this the entire drive home, but fuck it... miss you already.

Well, fuck.

Delivering a sharp little karate chop to the remaining flat cushion on your couch to fluff it, you place it with the others and then neaten the edges of the blanket hanging over the back, casting one final glance around your apartment and trying to imagine seeing it through a visitor’s eyes.

Clean.

Really clean.

Frankie was picking you up for a ‘mystery date’, which meant – naturally – you had spent the entire day scrubbing every surface in your apartment until it looked like you semi-had your life together. Did you inhale more bleach than what is probably considered healthy? Most definitely. Do you regret it? No. Will your apartment ever be this clean again? Also probably a no.

Checking the time, you’re startled to see how long you had spent fluffing fucking pillows and chant curses as you run to your room, kicking the clothes you rip off under your bed to deal with later and quickly pulling on the outfit it had definitely not taken you two hours to decide on. Your eyes dart to the alarm clock next to your bed when a knock on the door echoes throughout your small home.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, he’s on time –

God, why can’t he just show up half an hour late like the others? You immediately regret giving him the code to your building… that could’ve bought you an extra few minutes.

Stupid perfect face with his stupid perfect punctuality –

You open the door with a grin, hoping your forehead doesn’t look as sweaty as it feels, face softening when you find Frankie standing on the other side with a little potted houseplant cradled in his palms. He sees your eyes fall to it curiously and holds it out to you, your fingers brushing his when you carefully take it from his hands.

“You said flowers make you sad when they die, so…” he shrugs lightly, a gentle smile curling his lips.

Oh.

Emotion claws at your throat as your fingers trace the patterned leaves softly. Not only had he paid attention and actually listened to you during your many conversations, he had gone out of his way to find you a gift you could nurture, one that wouldn’t inevitably end up in the trash after a week or two of blossoming.

You swallow the sudden lump in your throat, clearing your throat quietly before glancing up at him, shy and overwhelmed by the wave of adoration that inundates you.

“Thank you, Frankie. I love it.”

And he knows you really do. He can hear it in your voice, sees the gratitude shining in your eyes. He follows you as you turn back into your apartment, eyes following you fondly as you walk around, eyeing potential places to situate your new addition.

“I think he looks good there.” You say, turning to confirm his approval over your shoulder after you situate it in the middle of your small dining table. He smiles, nodding his support and watching you turn back to look at the plant, taking his own little minute to admire you and the way you look bathed in the bright afternoon sun shining through your windows.

Fuck. He was captivated, completely infatuated by someone he had only known, what – three weeks? He should be nervous, should be alarmed that such strong feelings had developed so quickly, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything other than joy – hope. Maybe this could be it, you and him. Endgame.

Fuck. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

His arms open automatically when you saunter up to him, enveloping you into a warm embrace while you press an appreciative kiss to his cheek.

“So, this mystery date,” you say, pulling back to gaze up at him while your hands wrap loosely around his neck, “will I need a jacket?”

“Yes,” he nods, grinning when your brows pinch in contemplation. “You’ll never guess so don’t hurt you head trying.” Lips press against your forehead and you press back into the soft touch, heart jumping at the tender gesture.

“Minigolf?” You question, looking up at the colourful entrance.

“Is that okay? If not, we can go somewhere else –”

He’s nervous – you can hear it in his voice.

Easing his anxiety, you shake your head and grin, “It’s perfect.”

You watch him relax, a pleased smile curling his lips, and then your hand is in his as he leads you through the gate and to the reception area to pay. The both of you meander outside once collecting your clubs and balls, and you feel childishly giddy at all the bright colours and fun obstacles set throughout, bouncing slightly in excitement as you walk to the first hole.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” He asks around a grin, head tilting as he watches you set up and take your position.

“This isn’t my first time,” you hum, shifting on your feet and lining up your shot. Swinging the golf club gently, you watch the neon orange ball bounce along the walls and finish up teeteringly on the edge of the cup before falling in with a satisfying clunk.

“Oh, by the way,” you spin, smirking, “I kick ass at minigolf.”

“Good,” he returns your smirk, gently nudging you out the way, “I don’t have to take it easy on you, then.”

What had started out as fun, quickly becomes competitive, and with competition comes foul play. Frankie had pinched your sides when you went to hit your ball, your body jolting with a yelp of surprise as he exploited your ticklish spots. In return, you knocked his golf club when he swung, and giggled wildly when he immediately turned on you, wrapping you in a tight hold and raining scratchy kisses along your throat in punishment.

The afternoon melts into evening with mix of steady conversation, laughter and hidden kisses behind obstacles – Frankie stealing the breath right from your lungs when he crowds you against the side of the colourfully decorated windmill and claims your mouth, the crowds of other couples and families wandering around the course oblivious to the two of you hidden in the shadows.

If he was trying to work you up, it was working. He had to know what he was doing to you, had to know how all-consuming his presence was when he swept you up into kiss after kiss. You were so wrapped up in the touches he would caress you with, so focused on the feel of his moustache as it tickled the skin above your lip, that you were completely unaware you were losing… until you peaked at the card Frankie kept sticking out of his back pocket (totally not because you were checking out his ass) and the wave of vicious competitiveness shadows the overwhelming desire to jump him right in the middle of the course on the artificial turf.

Payback.

The next course, you took your short as normal, squirming as you feel Frankie come to stand right behind you. Focus –

Breathe, he’s not there. Breathe, he’s not there. Breathe –

Goosebumps rise along your arms in waves, the skin on the back of your neck prickling as he ghosts his curved nose down the column of your throat, your head tilting ever so slightly to allow him more access.

Fuck. No, breathe –

You swing the club, satisfaction rolling through you when the ball ends up in the cup perfectly in one shot. He’s slightly shocked, incredibly impressed, and presses a soft kiss of praise just below your ear. You watch as he takes your place, dropping his ball on the ground and readying his posture.

God, you need to stop looking at him like that.

The golf club feels loose in his grip, palms clammy from the fiery gaze locked onto the back of his neck as he hunches over for his turn. He feels a presence behind him but doesn’t pay any mind to it, and instead pays all of his attention to lining up the ball, mentally calculating what sort of angle he’d need to get it through the tunnel and around the winding corners to the cup a short dip below.

The cool puff of air suddenly blowing past and tickling his ear makes him fumble, the ball missing the tunnel and bouncing off of the sides and rolling back to his feet. He sighs, eyeing you over his shoulder with a playful frown as you blink innocently back at him.

He lines up again, tensing when warm hands work their way under his jacket, resting softly on his hips. He could feel the heat of your palms through his t-shirt and clears his throat, shifting on his feet and trying to focus back on the ball. You nuzzle your nose into his neck, teeth nipping lightly at his skin when he swings the golf club softly. Another miss. Frankie watches the ball return again, stopping at his feet with a light knock to his shoe.

“Yeah, that’s right, Morales – I’m onto you.” Your soft voice rings in his ear and he grins, knocking the ball into position with his club. “You may play dirty… but I do, too – try again.”

The words settle hotly in his stomach.

“You think you can win?”

“I know I can.” You all but purr into his ear.

He blocks you out then, focusing everything he has on getting that stupid fucking pink ball through the tunnel. He’s got it this time. This time –

Fingers dive under his shirt and his stomach jumps as they trace along his hot skin, slowly following along the waistband of his jeans teasingly. Fire shoots through his veins, muscles clenching under the feather light touches, your nails softly dragging along his skin.

Fucking Christ –

“Are you just going to stand here all day, Francisco?” You question slyly, voice soft and mocking. At your teasing, both verbal and physical, he hits the ball a little harder than intended and it bounces off the turf entirely and into the bushes lining the course.

You’re smug as you watch it disappear into the shrubs, “I’d say that’s forfeit.”

You go to step away when he starts to turn, but a hand grabs your wrist and keeps you flush against him, your insides somersaulting as his dark eyes burn through you.

“You’re trouble.” He accuses gruffly, heart still hammering in his chest while his skin burns from the ghost of your touches.

“You love it.”

He does.

Fuck, he does. Too much.

“Come on, loser,” you murmur, lips leaving a whisper of a kiss against his. “I’m hungry.” And with that, you turn, winking cheekily at him from over your shoulder, and he watches you walk away with a dumbfounded expression before he follows along behind you, jeans feeling a little tighter than what they did before.

The tension is stifling in the truck on the drive home. You feel your heart beating in your ears, the anticipation bubbling in your chest growing with every mile Frankie travels closer to your apartment. You were aching. Physically in fucking pain, and rubbing your thighs together was doing nothing to soothe the insistent throbbing from your core.

All that playful teasing, the touches and the rough kisses during the day, had caught up, and it was destroying you.

Frankie had briefly mentioned Mena staying with his parents for the night, and it had kickstarted your thoughts into overdrive. Was that a hint? Was he giving you a green light to potentially take this further? Was he saying he would be open to staying over? Was he asking to?

You were worried you were thinking on it too much, maybe getting the wrong idea and he was just expressing how nice it would be to have a night all to himself, but then his hand landed on your thigh and squeezed, and any inklings of doubt all but vanished.

He watches you from the corner of his eye, trying to focus on the road and not the way you keep shifting in your seat. He feels every time you squeeze your thighs together, feels the muscles move under his hand, and he physically has to stop himself from making a noise every time you do. Do you have any idea what you’re doing to him?

Your building comes into view and then he’s pulling up outside, removing his hand from your thigh and throwing the truck into park, letting it idle while you study the structure and get your thoughts together. Swallowing the sudden spike of nerves that settle in your stomach, you look to Frankie and find him already watching you quietly.

For a moment, you say nothing, and he doesn’t bother filling the silence. He lets you have all the time you need while you decide on your next move. Not that you need much time – you know exactly what you want.

“Do you want to come up?” You ask quietly, watching his eyes darken as they flicker to your building before returning to you. You watch his Adams apple bob as he swallows, and then he’s nodding, turning the keys in the ignition and the truck cuts out beneath you.

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed @emilykjh @peterhollandkait @sara-alonso @starlightsearches @bookishofalder @empress-palpat1ne @shadowolf993 @rosiefridayrogersunday @canyonmirrors @eoz-stuff @blackonemasie @layniapetrovnaaa @alberta-sunrise @betterthanbucky @linkpk88 @afootnoteinyourhappiness @livilottie @hailmaryyramliah @kesskirata @blueeyesatnight @a-perfct-stranger

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x f!reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales #francisco morales #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #benny miller

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genshin-impacted · 3 years

Text

lost & found // Diluc x Reader (3/3)

Word Count: ~6.5k

Notes: Seelie!Reader, GN!Reader, Diluc/Reader, Mondstadt people interaction + Mondstadt Archon Quest, mild violence/fighting description and mentions of blood, Diluc POV briefly, mainly reader!POV

Summary: Oftentimes you find yourself wondering about your life before becoming a seelie, but with Diluc by your side, you don’t let yourself dwell on the long-gone past-- not when Diluc offers you affection and a tenderness that no one else is privy to.

But on moonless nights, you let yourself wish upon a star.

(And sometimes, in this world ruled by the Gods and their stars, wishes are granted.)

Alternatively: Diluc has never asked you or needed you to change for him to love you.

[Part 2]

(thanks for the love for this fic! here is the final addition)

Diluc breathes out and sees the fog it makes in the frigid air of Dragonspine. The world continues to remind him that he’s lucky to have his Pyro vision, and again he’s inclined to agree that it’s a useful tool indeed. He cannot melt the snow that falls on the peaks of these mountains, but even he must admit that his flames have served him well in this icy winterland-- until it doesn’t.

His phoenix burns through ruin guards and hunters alike, along with the icy foothold beneath him, and he falls into this cavern with no way up. He thinks it’s ironic that he’s the one that led himself into this predicament and attests it to your influence as his trouble-finding seelie.

Diluc huffs as he dusts off the snow from his shoulders and continues further into the hole he fell into, leaving tracks wherever he can so that you can find him. He knows better than anyone what you can do, and he knows that you cannot find him if he doesn’t leave clues.

It is neither a surprising nor disappointing revelation to him. Diluc has always known that there is nothing special that binds the two of you together-- and perhaps that is why he cherishes what the two of you have. There is no contract, no string of fate, no hand of god that has put the two of you together or convinced the other to stay. You have chosen to stay with Diluc, and Diluc has chosen to let your presence change his life bit by bit.

Ever since coming back to Mondstadt, he has slowly grown more accustomed to working with other people, though with your appearance, his change has been accelerated. For with every adventure you drag him into, he meets new people, forming different teams. He’s helped Razor handle his broadsword better, and now he visits him ever so often to let him spar to his content. He let his stars be read by Mona, despite his initial hesitance (apparently, you are very into astrology), and can now see the constellations form above him much more clearly. And while he has never seen the need to be closer to his god, Venti sees the both of you more often outside of the tavern, and he sees a glimpse of Barbatos within the wind-weaving bard.

You are a comforting presence: straightforward, easy to read, and compassionate. And he does not resist, much like everyone else, when you twirl your way into his heart. It is no longer surprising for him to understand that he does not need to be alone on the dark side of dawn when you have chosen to accompany him.

Speaking of choice, Diluc thinks irritably, wringing out the water from his hair. How did he agree to wander around Dragonspine of all places? He must have been caught up in the logistics of the experiment itself as well as your easy agreement. Diluc is admittedly the only person that understands your every nuance (or, well, most of it; some twirls are lost in translation), but even he cannot quite decipher what you want to take from this experiment of Albedo’s.

When you find him-- which you will, he will ask you, and he thinks you will tell him as best as you can. For someone that cannot speak, you are the most honest individual in his life, which is something he has repeatedly found endearing and refreshing.

Diluc climbs up the side of a cliff near the camp, only to see Albedo and Sucrose discussing at the edge of it. He briefly wonders if the experiment has ended, but when he does not see your light between the two of them, his breath hitches in the momentary panic he finds all too familiar to when he lost you the first time.

Albedo spots him before he can speak. “Master Diluc, I’m relieved to find that you’re safe," he says briefly, and Diluc can at least respect how quickly the alchemist gets to the point, because he continues quickly. “Your seelie left to go find you before we could assess the situation.” He sighs as Sucrose frantically hands Diluc a towel to dry himself and a seat. “You gave them quite the scare, disappearing on us like that.”

“You mean they’re out there on their own right now?” Diluc presses, feeling his hackles raise.

“Yes. We’re going to go out to recount your steps-- undoubtedly, your seelie will be trying to find you--”

Diluc doesn’t need to hear anything else. He holds the towel to Sucrose who nervously puts her hands up, unsure on what to do. “I’ll go find them,” he says. “The experiment is finished now, right?”

“Do not go." Albedo sighs, and however Diluc thought of him before, it’s evident now that he is, above all else, frustrated with how things have turned out. “It’s my experiment and a miscalculation on my part. You should stay--”

“I’ll be fine--”

“Your vision does not make you impervious to the climates,” Albedo says calmly. He thinks he sees a gleam of cunning in Albedo’s eyes when he glares at the alchemist. “Besides, would your seelie be happy if you got yourself sick going to find them?” And Diluc cannot respond to that.

“That being said,” Albedo continues, pulling at his gloves. “I predict you will refuse to stay here permanently. As it’s my fault, I’ll provide you with at least a potent heating potion before you go. Please wait; it won’t take long.”

“...Thank you,” Diluc says, taking back his towel much to Sucrose’s relief. When he sees Albedo head off onto his alchemy table, he sighs and settles into his seat. Where could you have gone, he thinks, drying his hair. After leaving the waterfall, he had… climbed the clifftop. Perhaps you lost him there without any way to notice which way he went afterward, which was a mistake on his part. Perhaps he should--

Diluc pauses his train of thought and instinctively turns his head to the left where he sees you floating. And the relief, oh, the relief he feels when he sees you fly toward him makes smiling easy. “There you are. I was about to go look for you since you weren't with Albedo." He swallows, beginning to breathe easy again. "I was worried," he admits, "I--" He stops abruptly when he looks up at you.

You are crying, and he almost does not know what to do.

He didn’t realize you could cry. Diluc isn’t sure if he can even call them tears-- these globby droplets that disappear when they fall off your body that, when Diluc brushes them away, does not make his gloves wet.

But he sweeps them away when they come anyways. “Hey,” he says tenderly, as you raise your voice from distress. “It’s okay. I’m fine; I’m here.” He cups your small orb-like body and listens to you as best as he can, sweeping his hand over your head and ears soothingly until your hiccup-like speech slows down to a halt.

“You found me,” he tells you firmly. “You found me.” He repeats himself until you are warm in his hands and his hair is dry, the towel left forgotten on the ground.

Even when you have long calmed down, he continues to look over his shoulder to watch as you converse with Sucrose. “Did you get what you were looking for?” Diluc asks the alchemist, who hands him the warming potions for any emergencies.

“Yes. Simply put, your mini seelie does not choose what it finds.” Albedo explains, “However, based on previous observations, they can hone in on things that are… otherworldly. You may be glad to confirm that you are, in fact, not otherworldly. And though this was not my intended result, I also would like to inform you that their attachment to you is out of their own volition…” Albedo watches in barely concealed amusement as Diluc glances over at you again. “Though, I’m sure you already knew this.” He clears his throat. “I would like to offer them future experimentation if they are willing.”

Diluc does his best not to look confused, but his pause gets the better of him. “Why are you asking me?”

Albedo only arches his brow and asks as a matter-of-fact, “Are you not each other’s keeper?” He continues without pause to quickly go over any logistics he has remaining, the details of Dragonspine (lest he fall into a pit again), before going over to talk to you briefly. Diluc wonders what the alchemist talked to you about but he decides to let the questions be asked later.

For now, you twirl up to him, beaming at him more brightly than usual, and he does not have it in him to say anything other than, “Let’s go home.”

.By the time the two of you arrive at the winery, it is dark. You do not hesitate to corral him into getting ready for sleep, and he indulges you by not protesting.

“What did you want to get out of the experiment today?” Diluc asks you, untying his hair and placing it onto his nightstand. Before he can finish his question, you bury yourself into his hair, and he thinks that your tweets and trills sound very much like laughter. He chuckles. “Avoiding the question, are you? How very unlike you,” he teases, and he knows you hear him when he looks into the mirror and sees you peek out from underneath the red and squeak indignantly.

“I’m kidding.” Diluc lifts his hair so you can climb out and face him. “You’re the most straightforward person I know,” he says fondly, and he briefly wonders when he has gotten so honest with himself, letting you know how he feels with the amount of emotion he puts into his words to you.

Sated, you flip around once before settling into his cupped hands, deep in thought. Diluc doesn’t quite understand how your mannerisms make your emotions so recognizable, but he imagines that if you had hands, they would be under your chin in a thinking pose.

He patiently waits for an answer, walking around his room and blowing out the lights. When he turns off the last one, you can only look up at him and let out a quiet coo-- an apology. His hands are already comforting you the moment after you answer him.

“It’s alright,” Diluc says. “I suppose it’s not exactly easy to explain that.” He adds on immediately, “And don’t apologize again. It’s fine.”

“I think I can understand why without you telling me,” he says, and if his voice is a little raw, he hopes it goes by unnoticed. “It’s hard, isn’t it-- not knowing what you’re supposed to be doing."

Quietly, you float up, and Diluc feels his heart tremble when you press a kiss to his forehead in a mix of an apology, a comforting notion, and an act of love. He lays down in silence with you, and if you make a nest out of his hair, and if he wakes up with you nestled at the crook of his neck, he does not say a word.

There is no need.

“Isn’t it enough?” Lisa asks him as she leans over the library railing. Diluc looks over to her as he puts away the last of the books he has asked to borrow, and he knows what she is asking before she finishes. Still, she tilts her head, her hat staying steady on her head, and repeats, “Isn’t it enough that they’re here with you?”

“Yes,” Diluc says without hesitation. “It is.”

“Can I ask why you’re still researching about seelies then?” Lisa pauses, putting her hand over her shoulder, and Diluc knows she will arrive at the right answer without him telling her. “If not for you then… for them? You’re looking for answers for your mini seelie?”

"I try to do what I can," he says, ignoring the way Lisa's eyes gleam all too knowingly. (He always knew there was much more to her at first glance.) "Thanks for the help, I--" He pauses when he catches Lisa smiling behind her fist. "...What is it?" he asks warily.

"Oh, nothing." Lisa croons, giggling, "I just think it's sweet how the two of you treat each other. Anyone would get jealous of that." She pauses, looking out the window as the sun sets in the west. "It almost seems like a miracle to have the two of you find each other, don't you think? Fate, perhaps? How utterly romantic!"

"You're letting Kaeya influence you too much," Diluc retorts, much to Lisa's amusement.

"Maybe so," she says, sighing, "but even if it was fate, you wouldn't have cherished them any less." She gives Diluc a pointed look even he cannot deny. "Isn't that right, Master Diluc?"

Diluc huffs, walking past her to head down the stairs. "Asking that, I'm sure you already know my answer," he tells her, and he lets his mouth twitch in a semblance of a smile when he hears her complain about his tight-lipped attitude. It blossoms into a full-blown smile when he starts heading back to the winery.

When he comes back, you are waiting for him among the grapevines as the winery is basked in orange light.

He's home.

Diluc sleeps early and wakes up before the crack of dawn and takes you up the clifftop overlooking the winery. He had told you that there was something he wanted to do and left it at that. Not that you minded-- you were happy to follow him, blocking out any sharp rocks so he wouldn’t grab ahold of them as he climbed and scaring off any elemental wisps that came your way.

When the two of you reach the clifftop, the sky begins to grow brighter as the sun peeks over the horizon. The color change from blue to yellow then orange is truly beautiful, and you are almost mesmerized as Diluc takes a seat down next to you, watching the sunrise.

“...It’s almost been a year now,” Diluc says, “since we first met.”

Happy Anniversary? You squeak in confusion, only to whip your body to face him when you realize why you’re here with him at dawn to watch the beautiful scene unfold before you. You squeak rapidly, stumbling over your words that he cannot hear but can understand anyhow. You hadn’t realized-- You were an idiot for not planning anything either, not that you could-- What kind of ore could you go find to bring to him as a present--?

“Thank you,” Diluc tells you, “for the past year.” In the backdrop of the rising sun, you think he is almost too bright to watch with that gentle smile of his. The thought is only exacerbated when he cups you in his hands as softly as he has always done. “Let’s see what this year has in store for us together.”

You trill softly, floating in the air to situate yourself on top of his head to watch the ocean shine brighter with the rising sun.

It is not the New Year for any country nor culture, but you look into the horizon and make a wish that no one can hear. One year has passed, many things have changed, but you find that the one thing that has not is your adoration for Diluc.

"Let's go back home," he tells you, not for the first time, when the sun rises substantially above the horizon. Obediently, you float down into his sights where you twirl playfully in the air in thanks for the view. He chuckles. "No problem," he says, and he leans down just enough to place a quick kiss in between your ears.

(In hindsight, perhaps you should have wished for more kisses in the following year if you thought that was actually something you could wish for.)

Like the beginnings of a new arc, you lead Diluc onto the start of another campaign that lasts longer than normal and ties in with the previous adventures you have had with Diluc.

You find Aether on the shores east of Mondstadt. Diluc can only look at you curiously when Aether reveals his visionless powers and his desire to find his sister, for if there were ever any need for corroborating evidence on your talent or ability, Aether is living proof of it.

With the traveler, you resolve many of the things that neither you nor Diluc could comprehend. The red, crystalline tears are purified, the winds calm down with Dvalin’s defeat, and Venti-- or should you say, Barbatos-- as usual, disappears in a wisp of dandelions to leave the City of Freedom to its autonomy. In the breezes of Mondstadt, you can feel his protective gaze upon the city, and more often than not, you find him wandering in the tavern, looking for a quick drink that Diluc offers ‘reluctantly.’ (You know him better now; Diluc would rather hug Kaeya than admit that he cares for the people in his life more than he shows, and Venti is one of the people he can find a fondness for. You still find yourself abashed to know that you are the only one Diluc can say unashamedly and wholeheartedly that he adores you-- in his own way.)

Aether’s presence in Mondstadt is a breath of fresh air, considering how compassionate he is and how willing he is to help with the common troubles of those in the city. He is led along by Kaeya, tugged onto an impromptu date by Lisa, and given a mask to go undercover with Diluc and help him in ways that you cannot. The tug of jealousy is unfamiliar, but you are more glad than anything that Aether can be his partner during the most dangerous of missions. You tag along as moral support and as a guiding post-- and for that, you find yourself most similar to Paimon, who, for some reason, keeps being compared to emergency food.

“You’re my companion,” Diluc tells you with finality when you look up at him, barely forming the thought in your head about being his emergency food. “Don’t doubt that.”

Turns out, people can not breathe when you are covering their entire face with your translucent body.

When the dust settles, you never think of turning Aether down when he asks you if you can sense whether his sister is in Mondstadt.

You leave with Aether and Paimon with the promise that you return to Diluc at the winery. You guide the two of them to Stormterror’s Lair, a place you have gotten far more acquainted with in the past month, and head up to the cliffside where a ruin guard’s footprints remain next to a dandelion. You can sense something here, though you are unsure of what, and you are about to apologize for finding nothing when Aether looks over to you with wet eyes.

You coo up at him comfortingly as he sighs with a mixture of relief and sadness. “Thank you,” he tells you, holding out his hand. You press against it, and you hope he knows that the best you can do to imitate a comforting hand-hold. “At least now I know for sure she’s here in this world.” He smiles at you. “This gives me a lot of hope that I’ll find her, so… thank you, really.”

Aether leaves for Liyue in the next few days, and if you had known he would leave so soon you would have done more than held his hand. You wish you could comfort him, reassure him that his sister, too, must be looking for him just as hard as he was. (Even if this was not the truth, you think if you wish hard enough, you could maybe manifest it for him.) You have so many words within you and yet none of them are conveyed, and Aether’s sad smile stays.

It gets hard sometimes, knowing how little you can do, and how much you could have done before-- and this is one of those moments. It is rare for you to feel melancholy over the things you no longer have, but they come and go like the waves on Falcon Coast. Without a word, Diluc can tell when you are feeling down, holding you when you fall into his hands.

His kisses come more often now, and he places one between your ears when you are with him during your lower moods. You think your day improves almost immediately when he does so, but it helps tremendously also that Diluc never forgets to reassure you.

“If you want me to help you with anything,” he says, “you only need to ask."

You coo again, twirling once, nudging at his cheek before backing away just enough to look at him. If you had a heart (and you sometimes suspect you do), it would be beating quickly as you wait for him to decipher your actions.

“...Ah,” he says, picking you up again. You think for a moment he looks as embarrassed as you feel, but then he asks, “...Another one?” and places a second kiss onto your head.

You trill, pleased that you are spoiled by Diluc and even happier that Diluc only joins you in your mirth when he huffs in laughter.

“What an honest seelie,” he says, and you could not be more content with how fond he sounds of you and how, again and again, he continues to be patient with you even when you cannot be patient with yourself.

Sometimes when the moon is high and Diluc is fast asleep, you find yourself at the place you first came to fruition as a seelie. The lake by the Winery and this exact scenery may as well be your birthplace. When you look into the reflection you see your orb-like features, viscous yet watery all at once, emitting light.

But sometimes, when the only light is coming from the fireflies that glow beside you, you look into the lake and see a familiar face staring back at you. They have your face-- your eyes, your nose, your mouth, and your brows of a time when you were not a seelie. It’s the only time you get to see this image of your past self, reminding you of what you were before. Sometimes, you think you can hear your voice being carried over by the winds of another world, of another time.

These moments are the only thing you have kept to yourself.

After all, what’s the point of holding onto something that you no longer have? The man you’ve grown to care for-- grown to love-- is someone who has his eyes set forward toward the future, and you’re going to be there with him no matter what.

Although seelies cannot dream, you dream of carrying over the tray of tankards and washing the dishes in the tavern, of carrying Klee over your shoulders as you lead her to Albedo, of bumping elbows with Kaeya jokingly or placing a blanket over Jean’s shoulders when she falls asleep in her office again.

You dream of lacing your hands with Diluc’s, pressing your lips upon his temple, and hearing his heartbeat against his chest with a steady, grounding rhythm that reminds you you are home.

And sometimes, just dreaming is enough.

(And sometimes, it is not.)

Life goes on. You see more of Mondstadt and begin to know the land like the back of Diluc’s hand. Knights and adventurers alike know you as the little seelie, and whether they think you follow Diluc or Diluc follows you is up to each person’s interpretation. (Regardless, none of them are wrong.)

You accompany Diluc when he trains Razor in Wolvendom, and you invite Bennett to adventure sometimes with the two of you. (The boy may be unlucky, but you’re a magnet of trouble, so you think you have some things in common. A lot more things explode when he accompanies you but Diluc can handle it.) You make sure Jean gets some rest (“Your seelie is, um… very…” “Stubborn?” “I was going to say determined.”) and follow Lisa around on her expired library book expeditions. (“You think she’s beautiful, don’t you?” Diluc says to you, and you wonder why you babble excuses to him-- You’re more beautiful!-- while he looks at you in amusement.)

You and Diluc spend more time with other people in comparison to before, but you still have quiet moments with just the two of you when the days are slow. You’ve been learning how to move small things even better than before, among other things, but with this skill in particular, you can actually slide the pieces on the chessboard when you play against Diluc, who looks on (fondly) as you do your best to carefully push the pieces with your body.

You always end up knocking some down, but when you finally get a handle of it, you do it with such concentration that Diluc doesn't have the heart to offer help. He does, however, end up polishing the board so the pieces slide more easily. You notice it’s shinier but he doesn’t let you pay it any mind.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says to you, and you think the words I love you come to mind more often than not recently.

Thank you, you trill instead, and you ache with a want that pulses ever so often when you want so much more than you have when Diluc reaches out to caress your head.

“Like I said,” Diluc says softly. “Don’t pay it any mind. It’s your move still, you know.”

And you move the pieces. And you pick the grapes in his vineyard. And you find artifacts of crimson for him. And you kiss the scars from the many years he has battled (with or without you).

He gains another in the next, final battle with you as his seelie.

Diluc has gotten hurt before. It’s inevitable with the number of enemies he faces, the number of times you run into enemy territory, but it has never been a problem for him to stand back up and fight. His fire burns brightly-- shine true is his motto, and Diluc lives those words as though they have been etched onto his soul.

Much like fire, Diluc is relentless, and you can only follow him as he pushes through enemies, listens to his connections, and finds a den of thieves that have been terrorizing Springvale for months. The two of you should have known that their efficiency was because they were led on by the Fatui, but you fail to notice until they have you surrounded.

You have every faith in Diluc to come out safe and sound, but it takes only one mistake for you to be reminded that there is a limit to everything.

The blade slices through so quickly you aren’t sure what happened, but when Diluc pulls his hand back from the cut on his side to have it painted with blood, your heart drops.

“A little out of depth, don’t you think, Darknight Hero?”

“I’d keep my tongue in my mouth if I were you,” Diluc growls, and you can only tremble in mid-air as your mind races with the things you can do-- only to think of all the things you cannot do. You almost miss what Diluc tells you with the way your hearing fuzzes. “Go back to Mondstadt and tell the Knights where these bandits are,” Diluc says, and you know it’s serious when Diluc thinks about reaching out to the knights. (This is partly true, you would realize later, that despite Diluc’s hesitance on being associated with the knights, he knows you would reach out to Kaeya or Jean if needed-- if not for him but so you would be taken care of.)

You should have told Jean or Kaeya or Amber or even Lisa where the two of you had gone just in case things go awry. The thought never crossed your mind things could go wrong when you had Diliuc with you.

“You’ll find me again,” Diluc tells you softly when you hesitate, and you wonder how he can lie to you like that when his gloves are too bloodied to even hold you. “I promise.”

How could you ask me to do that? You plead, feeling tears well up again. How could you ask me to leave you?

“It’s okay,” Diluc tells you, and his bare hands are warm. “It’s fine.”

You are ripped out of Diluc’s hands when someone throws an electro grenade in the fire below Diluc’s feet. He’s still standing even after this, but a throwing knife hits him on the shoulder, another grenade to his left. You can do nothing but watch as Diluc is hurt, falling onto the ground.

If there was ever a moment you wanted something so badly, you would have done anything to get it, it would be right here-- right now.

You are the last thing he sees.

“You whose strength stems from your devotion, I shall lend you my power.”

You don’t know whose voice you heard or how somehow you have the hands to hold onto the Vision framed with Mondstadt wings in your hands, but you’ve learned not to question the good things in life-- one of them being your life at Diluc’s side.

Your voice is loud, you realize, when you shout at the bandits to leave. And your powers are strong-- strong enough to protect the person that matters most.

The bandits run at the fight sign of trouble, and the Fatui agent is unconscious. (You checked.)

You hold Diluc as he lies on your lap, breathing heavily but still breathing-- thank the archons. You quickly brush his hair away from his face and press on his wound, wincing when he lets out a grunt of pain even unconscious. I won’t let them hurt you, you think, taking one of his hands to brush your lips over his knuckles. (His hands are rough and calloused, but you love them just the same for how gently they held you when you were just a seelie.) If they come back, they’ll have to get through me.

“Hello, mini seelie.”

You look up from Diluc just in time to see a hand reach down to softly rustle your hair, much to your dismay. The initial reaction gives way to surprise when you recognize that the voice comes from none other than Kaeya. He grins down at you with his sword by his hip, and you frantically look around to see if the bandits had come back.

How did you--?

“Nice wings you got there,” Kaeya teases you, making you look back and find that oh, when did those get there? “Didn’t even notice them because you were too worried about Diluc, huh?” When you nod, he softens his gaze. “Why don’t you let us take care of things around here, hm?” He glances down at Diluc who has been sleeping soundly in your lap. “Let’s get him back home.”

When a few knights come with a cart to ambulate Diluc back to Mondstadt instead of the winery (you couldn’t argue with Jean even if you did choose to speak; she’s stubborn when the people she cares about are hurt), you feel the tension leave your body all at once, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, you actually feel sleepy.

“I’m glad we arrived right in the nick of time.” You turn to Kaeya who had been working behind the scenes, directing the knights. “You did good work, chasing them out of here so we could catch them easily,” he says, “I-- oof!”

You tackle Kaeya into a grateful hug, and it takes him a few moments to respond by placing his hands onto your back and giving it a few pats. “There, there,” Kaeya drawls, but you can hear the smile in his voice anyways. “Better not hug too long; Diluc might be jealous that I’m the person you hug first, you know.”

You let go slowly, grinning up at him as though you agree, and you dodge Kaeya before he can mess with your hair again. On the way out of the camp, Jean gives you a smile, Amber waves excitedly at you before rounding up a few more bandits, and your cheeks hurt a little from the way Lisa pinched it. You go find Diluc where he’s being taken back in a horse-drawn cart and hold his hand until you’ve fallen asleep by his side.

(In his sleep, Diluc holds onto you.)

Diluc wakes up twice. Once, very briefly, when your wings are expansive and when the Vision at your waist shines brightly with power. Before he wakes up the second time, you can already feel the power fade from both you and the Vision.

You knew that your transformation was temporary; powers do not always last forever, especially since the glow of your Vision seems contingent on the cycles of the moon-- particularly the moon that you were born on. You think that you should feel more disappointed, but you don’t. You get to hold onto Diluc’s hand in yours and wipe away the sweat from his forehead as he sleeps, and you think that if you only get this one chance to do these things, then you will take what you can get.

You will love Diluc as you are, no matter what form you take. Your transformation wasn’t necessary. Your powers were a bonus, but even if you weren’t granted a miracle, Diluc would have been safe, as a courtesy of Kaeya who had been trailing behind the two of you since you from the start. (Kaeya and Diluc's connections had the same info this time around, so they were bound to intersect at some point.) What you’ve been given was not the power to save Diluc, but the chance to love him in a way you have always dreamed of doing.

When Diluc opens his eyes the second time around, more aware and more awake, you almost don’t know what to do. It’s a momentary panic when you think he doesn’t know who you are, but he only needs to take one look at you before he raises his hand to caress your cheek as he’s always done.

“It’s okay, I’m here. I’m fine,” he soothes, though his voice is still raspy from disuse. “Don’t cry.”

I can’t believe you wanted me to leave you behind. How could you tell me that?

“...Sorry,” he says, and you raise your head from his bed just enough so he can wipe away the tears on your lashes. “It’s funny but even if you don’t talk, I can still understand you.”

You watch as he slowly takes your hand and presses his palm against yours, lowering his fingers until they’ve interlocked with yours. “My seelie,” he says with all the warmth in the world. You can only nod before you’re wiping away the tears that spring up again. "Even in this form, you'll still lead me, right? Still find me if I get lost?"

You don't know what type of face you're making, but Diluc softens his gaze before shifting slightly in the bed offered to him by the church. "Come here," he whispers, arms outstretched.

You tentatively place your weight onto the bed, arms placed on each of his sides as you gingerly climb into bed with him. When he winces, you put a hand on his chest, alarmed, to stop him from exerting himself.

“I’m fine,” he says immediately, and when he looks at you, he bursts out laughing, only for him to wince again more strongly. “Sorry, your expressions-- they’re exactly how I imagined them.” He chuckles, though you purse your lips at him as you finally settle under the covers next to him. You make a sound of surprise when he leans over just enough to press a kiss onto your forehead. You hear his soft huff of laughter again when you bury your face into his chest out of embarrassment. “Still as easy to read as ever.”

You grab a hold of his shirt with your ears pressed against his sturdy chest. He gently rubs circles on your shoulder as you listen to his heartbeat, which is as steady as you have imagined it to be. It quickens ever-so-slightly, and you look up at Diluc in time to see him gaze down at you tenderly. “You don’t have to speak,” he says, brushing his hand across your cheek. “Nothing has to change at all. But there’s something I want to know.” You raise your hand to caress his hand (and he finds the courage to keep on speaking).

“Do you think you can tell me your name?” Diluc whispers, the most unsure you have ever seen him, and you think you’re so fond of him your heart (not just metaphorical this time) might burst from it.

It takes only a moment for you to decide to scoot yourself up just enough to kiss him on the side of his mouth, and you can't help but grin at the stupefied expression on his face.

And you say your name.

How interesting is it that it's the one thing you cannot convey through trills and twirls, cannot show through hugs and kisses? You never thought that your name could have such significance but you watch as Diluc's eyes widen and you think this moment is the gift the gods have given you.

Diluc takes a moment to taste your name, and he calls out to you for the very first time out of many, many, many times.

Before the sun rises, Diluc wakes up to your bright glow and with your seelie body pressed up against his collarbone. He breathes your name into the quiet infirmary before he closes his eyes to sleep again.

You are found more often than you are lost. For every time Diluc calls your name-- as a seelie or as a human (fairy?)-- your heart soars as high as the anemograms at Brightcrown Mountain.

As a seelie, your life with Diluc stays the same-- for the most part. No one treats you differently and no one loves you differently from when they knew you as just a seelie. If anything, the biggest change has been in Diluc's life where the stares from his admirers are more muted and the swoons reduced, for how could anyone continue to pine over someone that is so evidently preoccupied with someone else? (Even though they've only seen the person who Diluc holds in high regard once every new moon.)

Every adventure still has the same probability to go awry and Diluc still polishes the chessboard to perfection for you. Though on moonless nights, Diluc can hold you close, and you can hold him closer, saying his name (the second word you ever say) and hoping he can never feel quite as lost as before when you are here with him.

FIN

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@creation-magician @inlustris-but-obey-me @lumi-ying @thetwinkims @loveyoutothestars @ninqat @winterptilopsis @nya-vivi @just-noelle @shr3ik

#diluc ragnivindr #diluc/reader #diluc x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact diluc #diluc #genshin diluc #kaeya #albedo #jean #lisa #aether #mini seelie #the amt of times i stopped myself from rambling

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whitexwingedxdoves · 3 years

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Foxtails and Rabbit trails | Part 2

A/N: This is part 2 to my collab with @starlessea i’ve had such a fun time working on this with Yaz and I hope you all love it as much as we do 🐰 Read Part One Here Summary: Daryl Dixon was a good hunter, but there were still some things that he struggled to find. Such as the patience to deal with you. You wore a rabbit’s foot keyring, but Daryl thought you were the furthest thing from lucky. After all, you ended up stuck with him, too.

- Lying back on the grass, staring up at the cloudless sky, you thought that the world had never looked so pretty.

The foxtails tickled your cheeks, and you could feel the fresh dew on the leaves as they gathered up beneath your fingers. You tried to focus on their texture, and how you could hear them crunch brittley before they scattered to the ground like autumn confetti.

You really did try to focus on the good.

But the pain was blinding.

“Hol’ still, ‘m gonna get ya outta there,” Daryl whispered, but you picked up on the way his voice stuttered over the words.

He got to work on disabling the trap, every little movement translating into a jolt of searing pain which made you cry out for him to stop. Though, the look in his eyes was no better. Even through your tears, you could understand that this was hurting him just as much as it hurt you - maybe even more.

If only you hadn’t been so fucking careless.

You reached out your hand for your satchel, fumbling in the grass until your fingertips brushed up against the soft fur of your rabbit’s foot. It was supposed to be lucky.

What a joke, you laughed, and grit your teeth through the pain.

Daryl disarmed the trap, making you whimper hoarsely once more as the metal jaws dislodged from your ankle. Your knuckles had turned white over that rabbit’s foot - almost matching its snowy pelt.

The man retrieved the rag from his back pocket - that same one you’d joked about not so long ago - and used it to bind your leg to stop the bleeding.

Maybe that ratty cloth was handy, after all.

You tried to look down to catch a glimpse of the injury, and assess the damage. Except, Daryl didn’t let you.

“Eyes on me,” he instructed, gesturing to himself with his free hand.

You nodded, before letting your head fall back onto the damp grass. You glanced off to the side, noticing the mounds of dirt that crumbled near you.

“Hey, Daryl,” you murmured, “look at all of the burrows.”

The man didn’t look up from what he was doing - tending to you - but he still nodded his head anyway.

“Yeah,” he replied, tightening the makeshift bandage, “see if ya can spot any rabbits.”

And with that, Daryl carried you back to Alexandria - quickly and carefully, looking down at his feet the entire time.

Once you reached the infirmary, the man placed you on one of the beds whilst Denise got to work. She tried her hardest to be gentle with you, but even the softest touch made your skin crawl. Painkillers were given - only dulling the sensation ever so slightly - but they seemed to be enough for the doctor to stitch up your wounds, and replace Daryl’s old red rag with a clean bandage.

“I thought you hunters were supposed to be mindful of your surroundings,” Denise quipped, sending one of her sneaky looks your way as she finished her work.

You rolled her eyes and shuffled ever so slightly in the bed, trying to get a glimpse.

“Yeah well, it was pretty well hidden,” you hit back.

Daryl cleared his throat from the corner of the room; he’d been so quiet that you almost forgot he was there.

“Nah, ya got too distracted by the damn rabbits,” he grumbled.

More like too distracted by damn Daryl Dixon.

A glare was exchanged between you and the archer, but your smile got wider the longer you stared.

“Either way, it got you pretty good. You need to stay off that leg.”

With a stern tone, Denise broke your gaze.

You shook your head. “That doesn’t work for me,” you argued, “I’ve got people to feed!”

In response, you tried to shuffle off the bed - but a searing pain clambered up your leg and stunted your movements.

“I’m sure Daryl wouldn’t mind taking over for a while. Just until you’re better,” Denise reassured you.

The young doctor peered over her glasses at the archer, only for him to reply with a grunt.

“Now rest,” she told you, pressing your shoulder back down into the mattress. “Doctor’s orders!”

That first night at the clinic had been quiet - far too quiet. It made you mull over your mistake until it was old in your mind, and heavy on your conscience.

That is, until Daryl returned to bring you dandelions.

Denise had insisted that you stay where she could keep an eye on you, until the morning at least. But, you missed the comforts of your own room - where it was familiar. The walls of the infirmary were too white and barren, as opposed to your house which was decorated with pressed flowers and furs and much too many books.

Your foot twitched occasionally, and every time you closed your eyes you could hear the snapping of those metal jaws as they clamped shut.

Sleep would probably elude you tonight.

Your nerves were made even worse when you were startled by knuckles rapping on the window. Reaching for the lamp, you illuminated the figure behind the glass - who also seemed spooked at having been caught.

Daryl stood there, motioning for you to open the latch on the window.

You did, and the man lifted the pane, letting in the cool night’s breeze.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” you whispered, peering around the infirmary.

Daryl scowled, and muttered something below his breath that you couldn’t quite make out. The lampshade cast long shadows on his face, and you could only see the whites of his eyes poking out from between the strands of hair hanging over them.

“I ain’t,” he rasped back, gesturing to where he stood. “Technically.”

You raised an eyebrow at the man, not expecting that dry humour to come from him. He shook you off, and continued.

“Not stoppin’ long,” he dismissed, lifting up his backpack and fumbling around in it. “Went back out there an’ couldn’t see no more traps.”

He smirked - faint and dim in the artificial light. But you still caught it.

“Ya must’ve sprung the only fuckin’ one.”

You laughed a little too loudly.

“Just my luck,” you shot back.

Daryl pulled something out from his bag - something you immediately recognised. It was a pelt blanket of soft, tawny fur. You’d made it yourself.

“Olivia tol’ me to give ya this,” he explained, feeding the material through the open window until you could reach it. “She went to get it from yer room.”

The feeling between your fingers instantly brought you comfort, and you ran the blanket along your cheek absentmindedly.

Before you could reply, Daryl fished something else out from the rucksack and placed it on the windowsill.

It was a glass bottle of dandelions.

It was a soda bottle, to be exact - probably snuck out of the pantry when no one was looking. You also recognised the flowers; you’d seen them out hunting once and noted just how much you liked the colour.

They looked like sunshine.

“Those from Olivia, too?” you whispered, gently stroking over the petals with your fingertips.

Daryl zipped up his bag and shook his head.

“Nah,” he mumbled, gesturing for you to close the window behind him. “These are from me.”

That was when you realised that perhaps Daryl Dixon wasn’t such a hard ass after all.

Though, your favourite memory from back then had to be the time he brought you bluebells. You’d practically chewed his ear off on one of your earlier trips, telling him all about how pretty they were - but you never thought he was listening.

You’d been sitting in your front room, pressing the previous bunch of flowers between one of your bigger books, when Daryl entered your home that day. Denise still hadn’t given you the all clear to go back out and hunt, and your movements were still pretty limited.

Hence, the constant appearances by the other hunter.

At this point, it had just become a part of the routine. Daryl would visit the house, walk straight to the empty vase on your bedside, and fill it with a new set of flowers.

Though, today was a little different.

Usually, he’d drop off some of the meat he’d managed to catch, and then leave. But, today he took a seat on the sofa opposite yours and fumbled with a tangled up cord.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” you giggled, sitting further back into your cushion.

“Been trying to fix ya stupid traps out there. Can’t get the knot right,” he mumbled, his patience wearing as thin as that rope in his hands.

You couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh at his words.

The irony tasted so sweet.

Daryl shot you a look which instantly made you cover your mouth. “Come here, I’ll help you,” you managed to say, whilst beckoning him over.

He did as instructed, but not without grumbling.

You took the cord from his hands and effortlessly untangled it. Daryl muttered something under his breath - but instead of prying, you took the victory and proceeded with your demonstration.

“Loop the rope around your hand like this and tie it.”

Before finishing the action, you handed it over to Daryl so that he could do it by himself.

“Then you fold the loop over to make ears, just like a rabbit!” you announced proudly, leaning over the man to show him exactly how it should look.

He scoffed. “What is it with you and the damn rabbits?”

You rolled your eyes at the archer, and nudged him in the side for not paying attention - to which he carried on following your directions.

“Then you thread the rope through,” you instructed, your hand hovering over his as you watched for any mistakes.

You hadn’t realised how close you were to him until he had finished the knot. You pulled away, and cleared your throat before refocusing on the cord - not daring to dwell on the tension.

“Then you add this end to the spring and leave the other end hanging.”

Daryl nodded silently, inspecting your work like he was trying to recreate it in his mind.

“Thanks,” he eventually whispered, chewing at the corner of his lip.

It didn’t take the man long to spring to his feet and murmur a goodbye before leaving.

Thinking back on it, you could only laugh at how naive you both had been.

Those bluebells were the last flowers ever left in that glass vase, but they hadn’t been the last you’d seen during your time at Alexandria. To this day, you still had an old, leather-bound book tucked away somewhere on a shelf - containing all of those pressed flowers with their dried up petals and stems. But, they weren’t the most memorable.

No. The ones you could remember the best, despite not having them laid flat atop a page, were the foxtail lilies.

“You good?” the man asked, guiding you through the long grass.

You followed him slowly, weaving through the wildflowers - being careful not to trod on them.

Your leg had mostly healed, but your confidence still hadn’t made a full recovery. It was your first time hunting since the accident, and you couldn’t help but keep your eyes locked on your feet the entire time - despite Daryl having reassured you that he’d checked the area three times over.

“Yeah, just feels weird,” you replied, rolling your ankle. “But it’s good to be out again, thanks for taking over for me.”

Despite being out of commission for a few weeks, the people of Alexandria definitely hadn’t starved - that’s for damn sure.

Daryl shook his head, and continued to step through the foxtail lilies. He was leading you back to that new area - to explore it properly this time.

“Nah, ain’t nothin’,” he shrugged, not even sparing you a backwards glance.

You followed his trail, where his boots had flattened the grass and made it easier for you to navigate.

You sighed. “Can’t just say ‘you’re welcome’, can you?”

Something sprung in the distance, and you immediately flinched. It took you a few seconds to figure it out - but you soon realised that you recognised that sound.

You turned to the other hunter, only to find that he was already looking at you.

“Daryl Dixon,” you breathed, a smile already wide on your face. “Did you set a twitch-up snare?”

The man shook his head, before pointing into the distance - at the dozens of burrows you hadn’t gotten the chance to show him that day.

“Not jus’ one,” he announced, as you glanced around the field, counting the traps.

No wonder Alexandria hadn’t gone hungry.

Another one sprung, and made you jump. You couldn’t help it, you slapped Daryl over the back and laughed too loudly - probably making the remaining rabbits scurry back into their burrows.

“Be still my beating heart!” you joked. “I knew you’d come around.”

The lilies tickled your legs as they blew in the breeze, and made you laugh even more. But for once, the man didn’t scold you for scaring away the game.

“Yer welcome,” he replied, and smirked straight back.

Daryl thought of that memory, as he and Judith made their way through the darkened forest, back to the house.

You had definitely changed him since then - in more ways than how he set up his traps.

Daryl hung behind the young girl, watching her feet as she navigated the thick overgrowth, and stepped over tree roots - her fox tail charm swinging from her jeans.

It had been his, once. He’d caught that red fox himself in the dead of winter, and kept the brush just like you’d told him to do. Though, Judith Grimes had taken a liking to it as a baby - always reaching for the soft fur with her small hands, and sneezing when Daryl used it to tickle her nose.

It was hers now; it had been since that day.

As if feeling his stare, Judith turned back and called out to Daryl for him to hurry up - unless he wanted dinner to be cold. He let out a grunt and picked up the pace.

He was too damn old for this.

The two of them returned to the cabin before the sun had set, but Daryl could already smell the scent of cooked meat from the pathway, a few minutes back. The lights were on inside, flickering warmly behind the glass windows - as though calling the both of them home.

Judith reached the door first, and rapped on the wood, tapping out their signature knock. As soon as it creaked open, the young girl burst through - nearly knocking you over as she trudged through the house with a wide smile and muddy boots.

Then, you disappeared behind the frame after her - yelling something about how animals were meant to be on a plate, and not seated at the dinner table.

Daryl couldn’t help but laugh at that one; you always did have a good sense of humour.

But for that reason, the hunter made sure to wash his hands as soon as he stepped through the door - before even attempting to put them on you, and pull you in close.

But once he did, you beckoned him over.

Daryl felt the warmth of your skin as you pressed your forehead to his.

“‘M home,” he murmured, offering out the bunch of wildflowers he’d picked for you on the way back.

They were slightly crushed from his grip - the stalks bent and the petals flaking off - but you still smiled at him in such a way that it made his breath catch.

Yeah, he thought, you hadn’t changed one bit.

“My favourites,” you replied, and placed those foxtails in fresh water at the centre of the dinner table.

tags: @browneyes528 @phoenixblack89 @srhxpci @jodiereedus22 @witch-of-letters @deadthewalking

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic

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afriendlyblackhottie · 3 years

Text

Love Galore

Summary: It’s been two years since the last time Andy saw you. Even after all that time he’s still the one you come to when don’t have anyone else to turn to.

Pairings: Andy Barber x Black!Reader

Words: 7.8 K

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, swearing, infidelity, Daddy kink, mentions of abusive relationship, mention of death, breeding kink, missionary, rough sex, squirting, creampie, oral (female receiving), degradation, dirty talk

(A/N: It’s here! I’ve finally done it! I’ve finished my first series EVER! LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO!!!!!! This was a fun complicated run considering this shit was supposed to be a one shot.Then it became two. Now I’m here with this long ass thing not believing that I’ve finally finish something. Honestly this is huge for me. Anyway. I’d like to think everyone that’s read this and enjoyed this little adventure and I hope you like this. Please, like, follow, and reblog. This shit got so long it wouldn’t even let me type on my phone anymore.)

Tagging: @titty-teetee @queenoftheworldisdead @olyvoyl @liquorlaughslove @harrysthiccthighss @mariahthelioness29 @donutloverxo @stargazingfangirl18 @mochamaniacbabe @whiskey-cokenfanfic @iam-laiya @zaddychris @emjayewrites @brattycherubwrites @love-more122 @bvssmob @smuttywriter @bigsisbria @night-of-the-living-shred @blackmissfrizzle @ilieherecharmed-fics2readnrec @atyourbestuareluv-writes @mauvecherie @abcdestinyyyy @helahades @little-baby-vixen

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Andy had told himself he was doing the right thing. Had talked himself into it on the drive home that day. When those words came out of your mouth, he didn’t need to hear ‘you’re over.” When to the two of you, ‘I quit,’ meant the same thing.

He remembered sitting in his office. Head tilted back with his mouth open. Thinking about the way you’d walked away from him before turning back around. For a second he thought you’d come back to him. Maybe you had a change of heart in that split second. Except you’d left and all he could do was slam his door and sit. Thinking about all the things he could have done to stop it from getting to this point.

Looking back, all he could think about were all the things that he could have done differently. How he should have held you tighter that night. Thinking about how he should have kept an eye on you instead of going back to sleep. How he should have just ended things with Laurie after that first I love you.

When he woke up this morning, there was a fleeting thought about you. Just like when he’d go to sleep. Always wondering if you were okay or if you missed him. He’d never been able to stop thinking about you. Always wondering if you were okay or if you missed him. Always thinking about the way your eyes had glazed over that last time he saw you. That at least you told him you loved him back.

Andy went on with his day with you stuck in his mind. Had a lunch meeting with colleagues like any normal Wednesday afternoon. Since the restaurant was across the street from this park, he decided to take a walk. He had to get back to work, but he could take some time to smell the roses. Butterflies fluttering around all the bushes of flowers. It was springtime which always made him think of you. It was your favorite time of year. He remembered how he’d send you a bouquet to your desk almost every day just to see you smile. Fuck he missed shit like that.

He was heading back to his car when he saw those familiar eyes peering up at him. All glazed over and filled with shock. His heart felt like it’d been jump started. Those butterflies dancing around your head like you were part of a dream.

“Y/N...” he trailed off, not even thinking as his legs started moving until he was closer and closer to you. He couldn’t stop himself. Needed to make sure you were really there.

“Andy,” you breathed out. “Hi.”

“Hey.” his chest heaving from how he had to catch up to you. His eyes still sincere like there was still love in them. That same smile he seemed to have reserved for you on his face. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m... how are you?”

You nodded. “Good,” you said taking in a deep breath. Except he knew better. He’d seen the way you’d looked at him. “I’m good.”

“That’s good,” he said, letting it go because he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to pry. “Did that letter of recommendation do you any good?”

“Oh yeah I actually got a job with this publisher last year.”

His smile grew. This pride showing in his face for you. “Seriously? Fuck I knew you could do it.”

“Yeah, I love it, so thank you for that.” You said, offering up a tiny smile.

“You didn’t need me.” He shrugged. “You probably would have gotten it all on your own.”

After two years and still all he could think about was reaching out to touch you. That maybe if he hugged you, you’d spill whatever was bothering you. Hell, even if he was reading too much into things, he still wished he could at least hold you a little.

“Yeah, well it certainly helped.”

“How you been? You look good.”

“Thanks,” you said with a chuckle. “You do, too. I’m okay, I guess. How about you?”

Andy shrugged. “As good as I can be,” he replied. “Can’t complain, I guess.”

You started grabbing your stuff. “I’d love to stay and chat, but my lunch break is almost over.”

“You still have my number?” He asked. “Maybe we can get coffee some time?”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you answered. “

“Oh, well, it was good seeing you,” he said, now feeling like his heart had instead dropped to his stomach.

“You, too.” You smiled. “Take care, okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. You, too. Call me if... if you ever need anything.”

“I will,” you replied, finally standing up. “It was nice seeing you.” There was this look in your face. Like you were hesitating for some reason. He wanted so badly to ask what was wrong, but that wasn’t his right anymore. He’d fucked that up two years ago.

“Yeah, you too,” he said.

He hadn’t been able to get you out of his mind since that day. How you looked. The way your eyes looked. How bad he wished he’d hugged you. It’d been a few weeks since then and he started doing what he always did. Burying himself in work because what else did he have.

Andy didn’t just miss the sex or anything, but he did miss the closeness. Of you surrounding him in your warmth. Sometimes he couldn’t believe how much he missed you. It got so bad he didn’t even move into the apartment when him and Laurie finally separated. That whole place only made him think of you. It was like your scent lingered in every room. It was too much.

This was the last thing he needed right now. To think about you. When the separation finally happened and he’d moved to the city to get away from all the old memories of not just you, but his old life he’d thought about finding you so many times. Instead, he busied himself with work. It was better than walking around moping everywhere he went. At least like this he could keep his mind busy.

He remembered how you used to scold him for working too much which always kept you behind because he’d have you sit in his lap as he finished up. Not that you minded that part. You’d shower him in kisses and love between scrolling through your phone.

As he started to get ready to go home, he thought back to the night you’d hooked up. That office party where Laurie had ditched him to go out. The night he decided to say fuck it because if she could have her fun then he deserved to have his, too. Especially after everything they’d been through.

Honestly, he was surprised they’d lasted as long as they did. Not that everything that happened was their fault or that he even hated Laurie for the things that were. Even though life hadn’t gone in the direction either of them expected it to, holding things against her made him feel even worse.

Except for you. The way she’d barged in that night. After having the nerve to get angry at him. Andy knew he’d crossed a lot of lines in your relationship because ‘I love yous’ and the apartment weren’t part of the deal. That didn’t mean she had any right to intervene.

He tried to push it out of his mind. Instead focusing on the radio as he drove home. He was trying to work passed all of that. It wasn’t good to dwell. Especially on that night.

Or how the last time he saw you. How sad you looked. How he couldn’t help himself as he placed one last kiss to your lips. Or how you’d stormed out of his office after he’d fucked you on his desk. How he thought you were coming back to him only for you to turn and leave for good.

God he’d felt like such a piece of shit. Sitting in his office crying like a fucking baby. It didn’t matter how many times he’d promised that it would be okay. The damage had already been done.

Now he was just sitting in his office thinking about you. Which is what he usually did anyway so what made this any different. He wasn’t even sure what time it was at this point. His assistant had left hours ago. He didn’t have anyone sitting in his lap these days.

Andy sighed, rubbing his eyes as started to pack up. He’d at least never crossed the line of sleeping in his office. That would have been a little too far even for him.

He yawned as his phone started going off, looking back on his desk to see the name plaster on the device. It was a little silly maybe, but he’d never changed his number just in case this happened. Just in case he’d end up seeing your name on it again. Now he’d seen you once and there it was.

“Hello?” He asked.

“Andy?” You whimpered out.

“Y/N? You okay?”

He could hear you sniffling over the phone line and his heart thumped. “I’m sorry I just... I don’t know who else to call,” you whimpered. “I’m kinda scared.”

“Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?” He asked hurrying up to grab his shit.

“Can you? I’m in Boston still.”

He sighed a smile on his face at hearing that. “Of course. Just send me the address and I’ll be right there.”

“Okay, but I don’t wanna hang up. I’m like... not okay.”

“What happened?” He asked softly.

You took another deep breath. “My, um,” then you stopped to take another breath as your voice broke, “can I just tell you when you get here?”

“Okay,” he replied not wanting to mess up his chances. It’d been two years and whatever had upset you, you’d trusted him enough still to be the one to go to. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Please, don’t hang up,” you said so softly. Honestly, he felt like his heart might shatter.

“I won’t. How about we talk about something else for now?” He asked as he finally started to make his way out of the building.

“Like, what?” You asked.

“Watched any football lately?” He asked, chuckling softly.

“No,” you sniffled again, but he could hear a slight change in tone. “I don’t like sports.”

“Really? We used to watch it every Sunday,” he replied.

“Yeah, because you liked it.”

He laughed. “Oh, wow. That’s okay. I remember sitting through all those marathons of Say Yes to the Dress, so I guess we’re even,” he teased.

You chuckled this time. “Yeah, but I liked the way you rated everything.”

Andy smiled and shook his head. “Okay so maybe it was a little fun.”

“Besides I liked watching football with you. I liked wearing the cute little Patriots jersey for you,” you said.

He wasn’t sure if you were trying to flirt with him, but it kind of made him hopeful. “Yeah, that was pretty nice, huh?” He finally got to his car throwing his briefcase into the backseat.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m not trying to make things weird.”

“It’s not weird at all, Y/N,” he said with a soft smile on his face. “I should be there in about fifteen minutes.”

“Okay,” you said. “Thanks, Andy.”

“Always,” he replied. He pretty much sped the whole way there. Maintaining conversation with you. Sometimes he could hear your voice quiver. His hands were shaking as he saw you through the glass. “Hey, I’m outside,” he said, making you look up at him with tear-stained eyes.

A small smile appeared on your lips. He waved at you through the window, his heart skipping a beat. Because you were right there dressed to the nines. You looked way too glamorous to be sitting in the booth of some little diner.

One of the things he’d regretted the most was not taking you somewhere when you were all dressed up. Sometimes you’d have cute dates at the apartment where you’d get all pretty for him. He loved it so much. Fuck he should have done better.

The thick smell of coffee and syrup hit him as soon as he walked in, but nothing could prepare him for how your perfume smelled as you hugged him. Fuck he couldn’t believe that he was there and he was touching you and you were crying into his chest.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said softly, rubbing your back. “It’s okay. I’m here now.” He lifted your chin. “You wanna talk about it?”

You nodded with this quiver in your lip. You looked so damn beautiful even like this. It almost felt like a reflex, but he managed to stop himself from kissing you.

You sat back in your seat and he took a seat beside you. “You want anything else?” He asked, only a cup of coffee was in front of you.

You shook your head and sighed again. “I’m okay.”

“So, what happened?”

That’s when he saw it. The diamond on the ring finger of your left hand. He swallowed this pit formed in his abdomen. You scoffed as you noticed his gaze. “Yeah, I’m engaged.” Then your eyes connected, until you closed them. That’s when another tear drop slid down your cheek. “Andy, it’s been so bad.”

“Hey,” he said, reaching across to grab your hand, ignoring the jolt he’d gotten from touching your soft skin again. “Tell me everything.”

With your free hand, you wiped away your tear. “So, I’ve been with him for about a year,” you started. “He was someone that I knew for a long time, though, because he’s always been a part of our friend group and everything.”

Andy listened intently, hand still in yours. At the same time, he couldn’t help himself as he started to go over your features. That he wanted to hug you again. God, he hated seeing you like this.

“So, then he asked me out and I said no because I just didn’t see him in that way,” you continued. “Everyone else in our friend group thought I was weird for not wanting to date him, but I got weird vibes. I dunno. Then somehow it got back to my mom and you know how she is.”

Andy chuckled. “Oh, do I remember.” How could he forget. There were so many times he’d have to hold you after you’d had a simple conversation with her.

You laughed. “Yeah. Well, she loved herself some Ethan and I’d say between her, my friends, and him constantly asking I gave in.” You wrapped your arms around yourself like you were cold.

“You cold?” He asked.

You nodded and he started taking off his suit jacket so he could give it to you. “You don’t have to,” you said as he got up to wrap it around you.

“It’s okay,” he said, with a soft smile. He sat back down and his breath hitched in his throat, seeing you wearing his jacket. “What happened next?”

“So then, I start dating him,” you said. “It was okay, but I still wasn’t that into it, but I felt like I couldn’t end things when everyone was going on and on about how cute we were together. Everyone was so weirdly invested in our relationship and it was like there were certain things I started to see.”

“Like, what?” Andy asked.

You shook your head. “Like he’d tell me not to wear certain things. Or get mad if I stayed out late with the girls. I’d feel bad because he’d get so emotional over it.” You paused to take a sip of your coffee. “I tried to breakup with him a few times, but then it was like everyone would get in my ear about how much of a nice guy he was and that I had no right being picky after messing around with you.”

“I thought your friends didn’t know about me,” he said.

“They didn’t,” you answered. “He found my old phone and went through our messages. Told everyone. I never deleted them because... I dunno. I liked reading them after he’d throw his tantrums.”

Andy sighed. “Shit, Y/N, this guy sounds like such an asshole.”

You chuckled, raising your eyebrows. “Tell me about it. I dunno it was like things just became worse and worse and worse and then he asked me to marry him and at this point I was too scared to even say no.”

“And, tonight?”

“Our engagement party,” you replied. “Ever since then he won’t stop bringing everything up. We got into a fight earlier, but I just couldn’t do it anymore and if I’m being honest the only person, I know that wouldn’t judge me about something like this was you.”

“Well, I’m glad you called,” he said, smiling softly. “If it makes you feel better, I never deleted our messages either.”

“Laurie didn’t care?”

“Laurie and I are divorced actually.”

“Oh,” you said. “I’m sorry.”

Andy shook his head. “Not your fault. We had way more problems. You weren’t even top five.”

“So, I was the sixth?” You laughed.

“I would place you right at number eight,” he joked.

“I think...” then you paused trying to gather your thoughts, “sometimes I wonder if maybe all of this is happening because of karma. Because of what we did together maybe I deserve it.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I mean I know we all messed around that one night so I guess that means she was okay with it, right?”

“It’s not... it’s complicated,” he said. “Do you remember that night of the office party.”

“The one we hooked up at for the first time?” You asked. “Or the one where we got caught?”

“The first one,” he replied, nodding his head. “The reason Laurie wasn’t there that night was because we’d gotten into this pretty bad argument.”

“That’s no excuse for what we did,” you said.

He shrugged. “Except it is because the reason we were arguing was because she picked that night of all nights to go on some date.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “She’d come to me about opening up the relationship because ever since everything happened, we hadn’t really been connecting. That’s she read somewhere that parents going through grief of losing a child, do better after taking a break from each other.”

Your gaze seemed to soften at him. It wasn’t often that he even mentioned what happened with his son so you didn’t say anything.

“I was so mad at first then I said you know what fine, but then when she picked that night of all nights... I don’t know.”

“Is that why we...”

He shrugged. “I mean, yes and no. I was mad at her, but I don’t know if I would have been able to stop myself either way. That’s why I stayed away from you for a little bit after. I got freaked because I realized that I liked you.”

“So, you didn’t actually cheat?” You asked.

Andy laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, I definitely cheated. What we did wasn’t a part of the deal. I crossed every boundary when I told you that I loved you.”

“Was it true, though?” You asked.

“Of course, it was. Hell, I don’t think I’ll ever stop.” He sighed, tapping his fingers against the table.

You smile this time it was you turn to grab his hand. “I wish things had been different.”

“Me, too,” he said. “The next morning when I went home, she was waiting for me. Said she didn’t go on her date since she didn’t like how much it upset me. I’d told her that I’d messed around with someone else, but she said it was okay. That night that she caught us, she knew I’d been messing with someone. Just didn’t know it was you.”

“And?” You asked.

“She had no idea about the apartment. We had our own accounts so she never knew. When she found out, she freaked saying she wanted to know what I was risking it all for and that she wanted to see if you were worth all the trouble.” The whole time he explained, he stroked your knuckles with his thumb. “So, she took my key and came over the way she did.”

“Shit,” you said.

He sighed. “Yeah. So, don’t feel bad or like karma is trying to get you because of it. None of it was your fault.”

“That’s the thing, Andy. It doesn’t matter if she knew or not. I didn’t know that and I still,” you stopped as you started to get a little choked up, “I still did what I did. I didn’t know that so what right do I have to act like that changed things. I knew you were married. I should have stopped it.”

Andy stood up, coming to your side of the booth to sit beside you. He wrapped his arms around you. A part of you thought about how you should pull away from him. That you should fall back into this cycle with him, but it felt so nice to be held by him again. “It’s okay. It really wasn’t your fault,” he whispered into the side of your head. “But I hate that you got hurt because we couldn’t be honest with ourselves and just breakup. The divorce was a long time coming. It’s hard to come back from all the shit that happened.”

“I get it,” you said.

“So, don’t beat yourself up or think that you deserve any of this.” He put his head on top of yours.

“It’s too late, anyway,” you said. “He already told everyone about you being married and all the stuff we used to talk about.”

“Shit...”

You sniffled again. “Yeah. Said I was a slut and a pervert and all this other shit.” You started crying again, you couldn’t help it. “He was screaming at me and it’s like he hasn’t stopped. So tonight, I finally argued back.”

“What the hell happened, Y/N?” He asked, finally getting the hint that there was so much more to the story.

He tucked his finger under your chin again, forcing you to look at him. Your still reddened eyes. Your cheeks stained with tears. Yet you still looked gorgeous to him. “Andy...” you took a deep breath, “he, uh,” you sniffled.

Andy’s eyes welled up with tears now because he got the fucking hint. After being an assistant district attorney for so many years he’d seen women like you too many times. “Did he hurt you?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

You sniffled, your lip trembling as you nodded and Andy didn’t know it was possible, but he pulled you in even closer. Kissing the top of your head as you clung to him now. “I didn’t know who else to go to. No one else would have believed me and I was so scared, Andy. I needed you.”

“It’s okay,” he said into your head between kisses. “It’s okay,” he repeated. “I’m here, Honey. I’m not going anywhere.”

The two of you stayed like that for what felt like ages. Him holding you as he kissed the top of your head. You crying into him until you finally calmed down. He wasn’t going to stop either. He couldn’t stop.

“You know what the worst part is?”

“What?” He asked.

“That I still got ready. That I was going to act like everything was normal cuz I didn’t know what else to do.”

He sighed and kissed your temple this time. “That’s okay. You didn’t want to draw attention,” he replied.

“Yeah, pretty much.” You surprised him when you laughed. “I dunno. I just felt like I had to look as natural as possible. Then I left.”

He’d finally stopped placing kissed all over you, but didn’t let go of you. After a few minutes of silence, he decided to break it. Hoping to lighten the mood a little. “I’m glad you called me. Surprised I didn’t get a speeding ticket on the way over.” He laughed.

You chuckled. “Yeah? Well, thanks for coming to my rescue.”

“I’ll always be there when you need me,” he said. “Hey, you hungry? I’m starving.”

“Pancakes sound kind of nice now.”

“Pancakes it is.” He nudged you.

You tilted your head back as you laughed at another story. Your pancakes half eaten and you leaned your head against his shoulder before stealing one of his fries.

“Still a fry thief I see?”

“Forever and always,” you replied with that giggle he loved so much. It honestly sounded like music to his ears. “Besides yours always taste better.”

He laughed. “Oh, whatever.”

“They do! It’s like they add something special to them.”

Andy shook his head. “You’re lucky I don’t mind.”

“Oh yeah? Not like you’d do anything about it anyway.”

His jaw dropped as you giggled again before taking another French fry. “Still a little brat.”

“Only to you.”

That was when he picked up your fork so he could steal some of your pancake.

“Hey!”

“All’s fair in love and war,” he said with a smirk. That’s when your eyes got all glazed over again. Then you sniffled. Then it was like you couldn’t help yourself as you got emotional all over again. Andy of course noticed and lifted your chin up so you couldn’t hide it. “What’s wrong?” He was back to wiping away a tear.

“I’m sorry for leaving,” you said, letting out a cry before clinging to him. “I’m so so sorry, Andy. I wish I’d never...” you stopped talk to try and hold a sob in.

“Hey,” he said softly, putting his lips against your temple ever so gently. “It’s okay. We’re good. Besides it’s not like you’re the one that fucked it all up.”

You let out a scoff and it kind of broke his heart a little. That you were blaming yourself for any of it. When he could have ended things with her for you when he had the chance. “I wish I’d never...” you trailed off. “I wish I’d listened to you. When you said everything would be okay.”

He shook his head. Wishing there were more words he could use to even begin how to tell you none of it was you. That you’d thought you were protecting yourself by walking away. That if anything he was proud of you for telling him to fuck off when he’d been the one to fuck it up. “No. I should have told you the truth from the beginning. Don’t blame yourself.”

“Did you ever think about me?”

Andy couldn’t help it as he chuckled. “Honey, I never stopped.”

“We’re a mess, aren’t we? This time you’re single and I’m the one in the relationshit.”

Andy laughed. “I know, right. Funny how it all comes back full circle.”

“I’ll say,” you said, before stealing yet another fry.

“Where you going after this?” He asked.

You shrugged and groaned. “I don’t even know. I can’t go back home because he’s gonna be there probably.”

“Well, my apartment is free,” he replied. “If you need some place to crash for a little bit. No strings attached. I promise.”

You smiled. “You’re too nice to me, you know that right.”

“I only treat you how I feel you deserve,” he said. “And, I think you deserve the world.”

You had to stop yourself from making a move so instead you got cozy against him again. “Dare me to take my phone off do not disturb.”

“If that’s what you want,” he said.

“Not really,” you said. “But, I’m gonna have to look at some point.”

“How about we get outta here instead,” he said. “We can watch a movie.”

You nodded. “Okay,” you said. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

The car ride was filled with more laughter and he was happy that he’d managed to cheer you up. Even though in the back of his mind he wanted to find that asshole. Maybe knock him out.

As he went to shower, you sat on the couch. Looking around at everything. This was different than the old place. You’d made that home. This barely felt lived in. When he came out in pajama pants and a white shirt, you almost salivated over him because he looked so beautiful it didn’t make any sense.

“You wanna shower? I have face wash so you can take off your makeup and you can wear one of my shirts if that’s okay. I don’t think I have a scarf for you to tie your hair, though.”

You smiled. “It’s okay. Thanks, Andy.”

As much as he hated what drove you to him, he still wasn’t going to take this moment for granted. Besides he was having so much fun cheering you up. He could fuck your ex up later.

“You wanna know the worst part of it all,” you said from your spot on the other side of the couch. You were freshly showered and bundled up under a blanket. Somehow more beautiful than you were before.

“What was it?” He asked.

“That the sex was awful,” you answered. “I’d try to tell him what I wanted, but he wouldn’t listen. I couldn’t understand why.”

Andy sighed because fuck this guy was a piece of shit, but it obviously made him perk up a little when you told him you weren’t be satisfied.

“When he read those messages, I think it was more of a blow to his ego. He started calling me a pervert. Reading the stuff, we sent to each other out loud. Called me a slut because he saw I called you Daddy.” You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Then told my mom that I needed help for all my sick fantasies.”

“Jesus,” he breathed.

“I know right.” You shook your head and laughed. “I don’t know. I’m kind of glad he never took your place, though. He couldn’t do what you did.” You took a deep breath before grabbing your phone. “Anyway, ready to see the chaos?” You asked.

“Always.” Though as you took your phone off do not disturb finally, all he could think about what you’d just said. That this asshole had never taken his place. That was good at least.

The messages and voicemails he’d left where so awful Andy almost couldn’t believe he’d somehow kept up with the whole nice guy thing. Or that everyone else had bought his act.

“Shit,” he said. “This guy’s fucking awful.”

You chuckled, your eyes all glazed over again. “Yeah, I know.”

“You can’t go back,” he said. “I can’t let you.”

“I don’t want to, but I don’t know where else to go. I feel like everyone is gonna choose him over me.”

He sighed. “Hey. I will always choose you. I got you.”

“Andy, I...” you stopped to take a breath, “I’m scared.”

“I know, but you don’t have to be. I’m here, okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You have to promise.”

He got closer to you so he could hug you tightly. Sighing into your hair. He hated seeing you like this. Whatever damage he’d done, this was miles above that. “I promise, Honey. I’ll even go with you to get your stuff, okay?”

You nodded and moved away from him so you could wipe your eyes. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” He kissed the top of your head. “I’ll even sleep on the couch.”

You chuckled. “I couldn’t make you do that.”

“It’s okay. Really.”

“No. That wouldn’t be fair,” you said. “You’re already doing so much for me.”

“Because I want to. I told you I’d always be there for you and I meant it.” He wiped away the tear that had fallen once again.

You smiled. “You’re too good to me.”

“I told you, you deserve it.”

There was something behind the look in your eyes this time. They’d softened and his probably had done the same. That old feeling was back in the air. Like you were back to old times.

He was surprised when you’d been the first one to make a move. You lightly pressing your lips to his before pulling away. “I’m sorry, I-“ he cut you off mid apology, smashing his lips to yours.

Your hands to his face. Holding either side of his cheeks. He deepened the kiss because fuck it had been two years and he missed you and he couldn’t believe you were there again.You made out for a while until he pulled away, putting his forehead against yours.

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispered, stroking your soft cheek with his thumb.

Your breath hitched in your throat watching the way his blue eyes had gotten so soft as they looked into yours. “I never stopped loving you either.”

“Nothing’s going to keep us apart this time, okay?”

You smiled and nodded before pecking his lips gently. “Take me to bed, Daddy,” you purred.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He nodded before standing up, lifting you into his arms. Making you wrap your legs around his waist. It was like instinct kicked in with how he started to kiss you on the way to the bed.

His hands gripping your ass. You feeling all up on his shoulders, like you were making sure every muscle was still there. Not even pulling from your embrace as he finally laid you down in his bed. Getting on top of you as he kissed your lips.

You moaned into him, running a hand through his hair. Scratching his scalp and his clawing at his shoulder with the other. Needing his closeness once again. “Andy,” you moaned as he started kissing your neck.

“It’s Daddy, Baby. Remember. I’m your daddy.”

You nodded before moving so he had to kiss you again. Except he pulled away.

“Who’s Daddy, Baby?”

“You,” you replied. “You’re my daddy. No one else.”

“That’s my good girl,” he said getting on his knees so he could start unbuttoning the shirt you were wearing. “Don’t worry, Baby. I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

You let out a moan as he got down to start kissing your thighs. “Daddy!”

“That’s it. Make all the noise you want,” he said as he started tugging your panties down your legs now that the shirt was mostly undone. “I don’t give a fuck if someone hears.”

When he said that you couldn’t help it as you let out a long whiny moan. Especially from the way he was kissing all up on your lower half before going back up to place kisses on your stilled covered breasts that he’d finally started to unbutton.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he said. “Did you miss me, Baby?”

You nodded, looking at him with those needy eyes. “So much.”

“Never gonna leave me again, huh,” he said before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it. “Gonna mine forever.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you closed your eyes to enjoy the feeling of his mouth on you. “God, yes.”

“Gonna be my wife one day. Give me a few babies.” One of his hands creeped down to your thigh, teasing you and making you shiver under his touch. “You gonna do that for me?”

You nodded, your lower half already tingly and he hadn’t even touched your pussy yet. Just the way his hands and mouth felt on you was enough. You had been so worked up for two years. Your vibrator and memories could only do so much. Especially since your soon to be ex had thrown out your toy since apparently you didn’t need one with him around.

“Use your words,” he said.

“Yes, Daddy,” you said.

“You still my slut?” He asked as his fingers finally started creeping up and down your slit. His touch feather-lite.

That’s when you shuddered. Nodding your head before letting out this breathy moan. “Yes,” you gasped. “I’m... I’m-“ you cut yourself off as you did it again.

“Damn. Already?” He smirked, looking up at you. Watching you bite your lip and flutter your eyelashes. Then you did it again and he’d barely even did anything. He was pretty sure that the minute he touched your clit with his tongue or fingers you’d explode. As bad as he wanted to, he was enjoying seeing you squirm over nothing. So needy and desperate for him.

“I haven’t cum in so long,” you said, crying out your words.

“Really? He wasn’t taking care of you at all?” He asked with a frown on his face. You shook your head breathing all heavy as your eyes started to roll back a little your lids all heavy. “That’s okay, Y/N,” he hissed as he parted your slit. “I’ll take really good care of you.” With that he finally decided to lick you up and down like he was tasting the sweetest honey.

Just like that your hips stuttered. A small amount of squirt coming from you.

Andy chuckled because damn he’d barely even done anything and you were already reacting like this. He couldn’t believe you were so pent up. He wondered how you had waited as long as you did tonight. It was like you were dying for this.

Your back was arched off the bed, putting your hands in his hair as he started to really dive in. Lapping at your clit. Your chest moving like you were still crying with no tears coming out.

“Oh god yes I’m still your slut!” You finally whined.

Once again, he chuckled into your clit before rolling over and wrapping his arms around your waist tightly to bring you with him. Perching you on his face. Your hands came down to your breasts, tweaking your nipples. You couldn’t help yourself as you started grinding your hips against his mouth.

He was eating your cunt like it’d be his last meal ever. Like it was the most refreshing glass of water he’d tasted. From there you put your hands in his hair as he held you down. His strong hands gripping your thighs to hold you still. He was trying to bring you to his mercy. Teach you that there really no one else that could do you like this.

As you came, you didn’t even make a noise. Your words stuck in your throat. Lower stomach spasming. Even your head felt like it was malfunctioning. And he didn’t stop what he was doing once.

He tried to keep going, but you scurried off his face. Falling to your side as you took a deep breath. He got closer to you putting his face right next to yours. Watching the way your eyes had blurred out. Like every thought had left your mind.

Andy smiled, quirking a brow. Eyes trained on yours. Finally, he licked his lips. “See, no one else can do you like this,” he said, before sliding his hand between the dampness of your thighs. Making you jump as he rubbed his finger against your opening again. Not even caring to think about how sensitive you must have been as he pushed two fingers inside.

His other hand snaked under you so he could pull you closer. Middle digits stuffing you as they massage your inner walls in a come-hither motion. Directly against your spot.

To be honest he felt pretty triumphant when he got you to this point. Obviously, the distance and lack of even self-inflicted orgasms were making you overly sensitive, but fuck. Neither of you could remember a time he’d been able to get you like this.

Your body felt like it was splitting in half. Then as he kissed you again, smashing his mouth against yours. Making you taste yourself. Practically tongue fucking you.

Even as you moaned, he wouldn’t let you pull away. He was proving a point that he was all you needed. It was true.

Finally, he let you pull away as you orgasmed again. You put your face into his shoulder and let out a scream. Then bit his skin as tears sprung to your eyes. “Daddy!” You’d whimpered.

“That’s my good slut,” he said. “You ready for Daddy’s dick?”

You weren’t sure if he actually wanted you to respond because there still were no thoughts in your brain. You’re pretty sure you’d let him do anything to you right now.

“You good, Baby?” He asked first, rubbing your cheek his thumb.

You wanted to say yes. To even squeak it out, but you were so far gone you were tongue tied. He was pretty much cooing over you as he finally stopped so he could hold you close to him. Waiting for you to come down a little.

He wished he’d gotten naked before this. Craving the feel of your bare skin against his. Wanting to feel those rock-hard nipples against him.

He sat up so he could remove his shirt first then his pajama bottoms and underwear. His hardened dick popping into your move making you pretty much salivate. As he laid back down, you could stop yourself as you reached out to grab it. He moaned under your touch because fuck it had been a long time for him, too. At least he got to use his hand for relief though. He wasn’t as pent up as you.

You kept glancing down at his dick. Standing tall and thick with the tip leaking. Fuck it looked so yummy. He wrapped his arms around you before palming your ass. Letting out a sigh of relief as he finally got to feel you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist. Trying at least feel him against you. Andy pushed you onto your back. Hovering over you before getting on his knees. You were still as sensitive as ever as he started to rub himself up and down your opening.

You tried to shift your hips so he’d get the hint. Maybe finally plunge into you. Fuck you just like you needed. That you’d been craving since you’d broken up, but especially after the way this last year had been going.

“I wanna suck your dick,” you begged, suddenly remembering how you missed tasting him. And the way his dick looked right now with the way he was holding it like he was threatening your pussy. It was too much and yet fuck you wanted him to fuck your throat.

“You will. We got all night,” he said, now holding onto your thighs as he kept you spread wide open. Moving his hips so he could dip into you then take it away. Fuck your pussy was such a mess right now. He couldn’t resist. “For now. I need this pussy.”

With that he pushed into you a little deeper this time, but still not giving you his all. Just enjoying the feel of your tight wetness around his fat dick as entered you inch by inch.

You cried out because fuck. After two years of being without him and a year of someone who didn’t give a fuck if she liked sex or not, he was just too much. “Fuck, that’s it, Baby. Daddy’s gonna take such good care of you and your pussy.”

“Please,” you gasped.

“Don’t worry, Baby. Daddy isn’t gonna be like your shithead boyfriend. Gonna make you cum until you can’t take it anymore.”

With that he finished giving you his all. His hard dick stuffing you to the brim. Dick so thick it was forcing you to accommodate him.

He knew by the way your pussy squeezing him, that you hadn’t been touched properly even if you hadn’t said anything. Your pussy just like velvet. He almost felt bad for what he was about to do to it.

For now, he moved his hips shallowly, at least letting you get used to him. He looked down. Watching the way your pussy clung to his cock every time he inched out of you. “Look at this pretty pussy,” he said, rubbing your clit and making your back arch off the bed again.

“Ah!” You couldn’t help it as you screamed. His poor baby. Too sensitive. This was going to be so much fun.

He chuckled as he looked down at you. How did you already look so blissed out. He put your legs on either shoulder before leaning down to kiss you lightly.

“Daddy,” you whimpered. “Please.”

“Tell me what you want,” he said moving his hips at a slow pace. Savoring how good you felt around him.

“Fuck me hard,” you begged. “Just like you used to.”

Andy didn’t need to be told twice. He’d been waiting for this moment for too long to not give in. So, with that he inched out wanting to tease your hole one more time before slamming it in.

He started kissing you again. Needing to taste you on his tongue again. You gasped into his mouth because now as he was fucking you just as hard as he knew you needed, you couldn’t handle it. All the stimulation was too much but he was too far gone to stop.

“Daddy!” You cried into his mouth. You were clenching around him so damn tight, but that didn’t matter as he started fucking you so damn good.

“That’s it,” he cooed because even though he could tell it was too much you were taking it so good. Andy grabbed your hand to put it above your head. “That’s a good fucking slut.”

“Yes,” you whined. “Fuck yes.”

“Never gonna let another man touch you again, huh. I better not see that shit.” He grabbed your face so you were forced to look up at him. Making his point with the way he was fucking you. This was his pussy. No one else’s.

“No,” you managed to get out. “Never.”

“Only Daddy can fuck you.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you whimpered. “Fuck!” That now familiar feeling again. Of you getting closer and closer to the edge. He did tell you that he was going to keep making you cum. Needed to make up for lost time. “I’m fucking cumming!”

“That’s my good bitch. So good. Cum for your Daddy.” He demanded as your eyes started to roll to the back of your head as you came again. Clenching so hard you forced him out. More of your squirt shooting out of you, to hit his pelvis.

He reached down to rub your clit so he could keep it going. You tried to push his hand away because it just got to be too much. He didn’t give a fuck as he grabbed your wrists before shoving into you again. Making you scream again. His poor neighbors were probably so irritated with you.

He held onto your wrists as he started pounding into you. No mercy just like you knew he would. He didn’t give a fuck this time. Just making you cum over and over again because he could. Making up for all those orgasms he hadn’t given you.

“Andy!” You couldn’t help it. You had to say his name. He’d worked you up so much you had to.

He pushed your arms above your head. Leaning down to kiss you once again, but this time was different because his own orgasm had started creeping up on him.

“Want me to cum in you?” He asked, putting his forehead against yours. “Fill this little pussy up with my cum just like I used to. You on birth control?”

You nodded, no longer able to even form words.

“You better go off that shit. I’m planning to keep you pregnant.” His movement faltered just thinking about it. Warmth spreading inside of him as he finally started to cum deep inside of you. Making sure he was nice and deep, right against your cervix.

Then pulled out only to push it back in so it would be forced in. Your birth control wasn’t going to stop him from at least trying to breed you. Making sure you were completely filled up with his seed before finally coming to lay beside you.

In the short amount of time, it took for him to lay down and pull you into his arms, you’d already fallen asleep. He’d worn you out after all of the nasty things he’d done to you. Especially with all the bullshit you’d had to deal with earlier in the day. All he could do was kiss your forehead before letting himself lull to sleep too.

Because after two years of being alone, that hopeless feeling had disappeared in one night. Just with you there. As he looked down at your sleeping face, he couldn’t help but think that you’d been worth the wait. This time he’d make sure that he did things the right way. That as long as the two of you had each other, nothing else mattered.

#andy barber smut #andy barber x black!reader #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #chris evans smut #chris evans x black!reader #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader

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smutsonian · 3 years

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Ma'am I had this idea. Outrageous but I did😂😂. Dark! Colin Shea. Can u imagine. Him acting all friendly but his intentions r not so good. So I can't sleep now. Yay😂😂

Heyy! So another movie I haven’t seen 🤭 But it’s basically like a Neighbor AU situation, right?

I’m going to try something, I guess 😂

safe hands

colin shea x reader

warnings: smut! dark fic! noncon! drunk reader, innocent reader, stalking, obsession, loss of virginity, dark!colin, not proofread

wc: 1606

a/n: not me writing for characters i dont even know... @jack-skellingtons-stuff hope ur sleepin well now sdkskskkd

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So Colin...

Probably a boy next door

Like literally. You just moved and he’s your next-door neighbor.

So, imagine you... A young pretty little thing that’s fresh out of college and is looking for a job but you’re just this awkward little ball of sunshine that keeps messing everything up.

You never even go out of your apartment unless it’s for an interview, even then, you so dread those stuff.

“You’re a freaking adult now! Why can’t you just act normal and do adult... stuff?!” You would chide yourself in front of a mirror, groaning in desperation at your lack of... experience? Like workwise.

Hey, there are people working from home. Maybe you can do that?

And you did. And you actually found one which is great for your adulthood but not great for you because you never go out of your apartment anymore. At all.

That’s when Colin comes in.

He was there when you moved in, expecting you to greet him like every girl who sees him. He really gets em easily. I mean... look at him.

So he watched you as you brought boxes in which there was not much. There were like 3 boxes, maybe 5 but not more. He watched you with amusement as you were too busy grunting at the boxes, missing his nude form by his door, only a small towel to cover himself.

He takes a bite of his apple, obnoxiously chewing to catch your reaction but he was met with a slam of your door.

Since then, he has become fond of you.

He’d watch you as you went in and out of your apartment in those cute little skirts and wonderful blouses and every time, it’s a sight for him.

He eventually found out that you’re going to job interviews and he found himself following you and witnessing some of those awkward interviews and he finds himself growing more fond of you. Even got himself thinking that he might actually like you... Is that even possible? He’s Colin Shea. He doesn’t settle down.

But for you, he might.

He saw how you would block everything out and he listened to your late-night talks with yourself and he can’t help but think about how adorable you are. How helpless you are. Something ignited in him and all he wants to do now is be there for you. Protect you. Take care of you.

Imagine his reaction when you’re no longer getting out of your apartment.

So he finally decides to meet you. Or for you to meet him. He knows so much about you already but he won’t say that to you.

A knock forces you away from your laptop. You open the door to find a man staring down at you with a friendly smile.

“Umm, hi? D-did I, Was I making any noise or something?” Your stuttering would make Colin’s heart leap out of his chest and the way you're dressed down with shorts and a huge sweater only made his heart swell even more.

“Uh hi! I’m Colin! I’m your neighbor! I uh... Was going to ask a favor, if that’s alright?” He smiles shyly at you.

“Um, yeah! What’s up?” You smile awkwardly, silently praying for him to leave already. Not that he was annoying. You were just not used to this... And besides, you’re doing work.

“I locked myself out of my apartment and I tried talking to the office but I guess they’re already out. I mean it’s pretty late.” He looks down at his wristwatch before looking at you with a hopeful smile making your heart beat faster. Not because of his boyish cute smile but because the idea of a stranger being with you just doesn’t sit right.

But it would be more awkward to deny him now, would it?

“It’ll be as if I wasn’t here. I promise. Just need somewhere to spend the night. I mean I can sleep by my door but that would be--”

“Y-yeah, I guess you can stay for a while.” You give him a small smile which Colin found extremely adorable which then made him grin. A grin that soon fell when he took a look around your apartment.

He watches as you make your way back to your laptop, quickly getting back into your zone. His heart falls at the sight. Is that what you’ve been doing the whole day?

“Have you eaten?” He finds himself asking, not being able to resist.

He watches your face contort into confusion and he would’ve awed at the sight but your reply made him somewhat angry.

“I guess not... Did you want anything?” You pull yourself away from your laptop once more and Colin didn’t know if he liked the idea of you preparing his food but nothing for yourself.

What a sweet girl...

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll order take-out!” Colin cheered before pulling out his phone, wiggling his eyebrows at your shocked expression.

That’s how you find yourself eating pizza while watching some show on the telly.

Then those nights became a thing.

Colin would often visit you, making sure that you eat and take a break from work because he said that you tend to overwork yourself.

“You’re not my mom!” You’d playfully slap his chest.

“Well, I might as well be!” He’ll take your wrist before dragging you towards your bed and forcing you to watch another batch of comedy shows.

He’d be laughing at the show so much that you find yourself laughing as well.

You would no longer feel so stressed.

But then things went badly.

The company you were working for decided to let some employees go and unfortunately, those who work from home weren’t as important as those who work in the office.

You cried in Colin’s arms that night.

Colin did feel sorry for you. But maybe it’s for the best. Even the universe thinks you shouldn’t be working like that. He’s there to take care of you. You would no longer have to stress yourself out to live.

He’ll make sure to take good care of you.

Then the drinks came up.

One bottle of beer. Then two. Then three.

Honestly, you lost count.

Colin didn’t. He didn’t drink any.

He’d watch you with a smile as you’re sad and brooding aura turned into a giggly one.

“I’m sleepy...” You would mutter, head falling down Colin’s shoulder and he would embrace you happily, stroking the side of your face gently.

He’ll smile at the way you would squeal when he carries you to your bed.

“You enjoy being relaxed, babe?” He asks, taking your socks off. Then your shorts and shirt that went unnoticed by you.

“Too hot!” You’d fan yourself with your hand which Colin would take.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” He’ll press a kiss on your forehead that’ll make you giggle.

Colin would watch your naked body, touch your warm skin with patience.

“So beautiful... And all for me, right?” He presses a kiss on your lips and you nod at whatever it is he’s saying.

He’ll easily play your body, making you and himself feel good. His fingers would play with your clit while his mouth laps on your nipples, taking turns from left and right.

He’d bask at the sound of your moans and whimpers that went straight to his hardening cock.

He’ll only stop when you’re drunkenly begging for more which he happily gives.

His hard cock would be poking your entrance and as he pushes in slowly, your eyes would widen, suddenly not so drunk anymore.

“Colin?” Your frightened voice alerts Colin and he would shush you with a kiss.

“Don’t worry about it, baby. I got you... I got you...” He whispers before pushing in, swallowing your cries with lustful kisses.

“God!” He moans when he’s fully seethed in, your walls hugging his cock. He stays there for a while, listening to your heavy breathing and slightly feeling guilty at your cries.

“Ahh...” You cry out when he slowly pulls out. He’d kiss your tears away before slowly pushing back in, pulling your body closer to his in a hug, whispering promises about feeling better soon.

And you did.

Your cries turned into moans which motivated Colin to thrust faster yet still careful to not hurt you. He didn’t even have to ask because when he looked down at his cock, he saw little blood, and his jaw clenched, feeling some sort of remorse.

“You’re doing good, You’re so good to me.” He whispers before resuming his thrusts. He’d dwell at the sound of your pleasured moans and his hand would find its way down your clit, fingers playing with the nub until your body was shaking violently underneath him.

“You gonna cum? Cum for me, baby... You’re good. You’re safe...” He grunts at how your walls are tightening around him. You whimper before curling against his body, unknowingly pulling his body closer to yours.

He shivers before cumming as well, his seeds filling your hole, making you drip with his cum. He places a loving kiss on your forehead before pulling out.

The mixture of blood and his cum makes him get a cloth before gently cleaning you up, being extra careful when he wiped at your core.

He cleans himself up before lying back beside you. He presses a kiss on the side of your head, your nose, and then your lips.

“I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to worry about anything anymore...” He places a hand on your stomach before smiling and pulling the covers over the both of you.

You’re in safe hands.

---

a/n: see i dont think i should write for these guys (from movies i haven’t watched/too lazy to watch) because im probs messing up a lot skskks anyway hope y’all think this one is alright! also im a sucker for innocent reader jcnavn

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General: @readermia @unlikelygalaxygiver @xoxabs88xox @anncutamarica @chaoticfiretaconerd @i-love-superhero @caffiend-queen @coconutqueen21 @jtargaryen18 @jennmurawski13 @mushyjellybeans @ninjabucky @evnscvll @buckstaybucky @donutloverxo @rebloggingeverything @adriannajackson @la-cey @awaywithtime @gotnofucks @empath-bunny @belovedcherry @white-wolf1940 @the-soulofdevil @mianorth @littlegasps

Anything Chris: @patzammit @princess-evans-addict @shadowcatsworld @notyourtypicalrose @onetwo3000 @bluemusickid @heyiamthatbitch @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @slytherinandoutasgard

Chris and seb: @harrysthiccthighss

#colin shea x reader #colin shea imagine #dark fic teaser #dark!fic #dark colin shea #dark colin shea x reader #dark!colin shea #dark!colin shea x reader #innocent reader #innocent!reader

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ontheblock · 3 years

Text

i know that i‘m a little behind with my inbox requests but i will come around to finish them soon !! i just to be a little selfish with this self indulgent fic of sal<3 enjoy, fuckers. the next post will hopefully be henry bowers once i get to finish it-

home

•warning: gore, angst

Sal never imagined that he would be scared to see her. The steady dripping and the weight in his hand made him uneasy as he stared at the door for a moment - probably not more than ten seconds or maybe it was twenty minutes, he didn’t know. He barely remembered stumbling out of Room whichever-the-fuck. Sawwy Face. I’m proud of you, Sal. Fuck.

Sal‘s hand hovered over the door knob. She probably left it unlocked again. Sal always told her to lock up at night but he knew her too well. She would stay up way too late just to pass out on top of her covers or tangled up in it from her determination to find the best position to lay in. He knew because of course he did. Sal would be the one to come over more often than not when his bed was just too cold and his night terrors just too real at night. He would slip under her covers, holding her against his chest and whisper sweet nothings into the dark room if it made her stir. No matter how bad it was, he didn’t like to wake her up - no matter how much he wanted to be the one to be held and caressed, soothed and lulled into sleep. Eventually he settled with her presence alone, lying on the rough carpet next to her bed, tracing her hand hanging off the bed with his eye. The carpet usually hurt his tender side if he rolled over in his sleep and he woke up with a rash too many times. It made his prosthetic sit on his face uncomfortably for days. She would scold him for sleeping on the cold floor but he was giddy for her kisses and they always followed immediately after - the softest butterfly kisses on his scars and they were better than any cream she bought him for the rash but he let her apply it on his face anyway. Sal never told her how gross a moist face felt under the prosthetic. It made her happy so it was ok.

He stared at the bad paint job on the door. The shadow he casted on the room number plate taunted him as he turned the knob. A wave of her scent faintly hit him under the ever lingering smell of copper as soon as the door creaked open. The shitty hallway lights barely lit up the room. He shuffled the knife handle in his clammy hands as he entered the apartment. He knew that her bedroom was the first brown door. He could find his way to her blind and he knew that if he didn’t go now he would never go. It was so quiet as he approached the closed door. So quiet as he pushed the door open. The janky blinds were only half closed, letting the moon cast its light into the room. It was so dull now. Everything in Nockfell was dull now or maybe it always was this way. Maybe the bright moments were only so bright because they were moments he shared with her. Sal’s foot nudged against a soft pile of her clothing as he stepped foot into the familiar room, a room they would jokingly call their detached house when they were in their late teens, sharing a cigarette on her unmade bed surrounded by each other’s clothes until he promised her that one day he will give her exactly that but real. Not some run down apartment with wet walls. She told him that anything was fine but he chased that pipe dream anyway.

His blood caked shoe kicked a stray sock back into the pile, smearing blood on it along the way. Whose blood? But it was fine because she only piled her clothes by her door if the next day was laundry day. Tomorrow was laundry day, it was going to be ok. He slowly lifted his head back up to look at her, tangled up in her favorite blanket. He didn’t understand what made the blanket so special. He never liked the way the fabric felt on his skin until Ash told him that the blanket matched his hair color perfectly and she just missed Sal after he moved in with Todd, missed the way he would drape his arm over her, missed the way he would stay up until she was sound asleep even though he was the one who saw nothing but death when he finally closed his eyes. It made his chest ache a little and he made sure to send her a SMS almost every night. But now she looked so peaceful - as if he could just lay down next to her and wake up to a normal day. A day before he killed 12 people that watched him grow from the 5’2 kid with pigtails in the 5’6 man with hair hanging loosely over his shoulders because he liked how she would sit behind him to brush his hair while he drowned himself in his college classes.

He didn’t lay down, didn‘t have the chance to dwell on that thought as her phone gave a shrill pinging sound into the dusty air. His head snapped to the small nightstand. It was cluttered with a lamp and some stray pieces of paper and sticker packs ranging with designs for kids like hello kitty and sanrio characters - no, he didn’t care that hello kitty already was a sanrio character, no matter how often she would tell him - to band logos like korn and sanity falls. She would randomly ask Sal to stick them on his mask. He would say no because it was hell to get the residue off afterwards. She would pout like she always did, and he would cave like he always did. In the middle of a paper pile sat her phone, blinking with a notification.

Anniversary <3

Fuck. Sal swallowed hard. His prosthetic clung to the sweat layer on his face. Or was it just the tears? Both? Was it blood? Maybe it was all but the rusteling of fabric made him painfully aware that it was the least important worry right now. She was stirring and as soon as he got a good look of her face he saw the tell tale sign of her waking up - the scrunch of the nose and the fluttering lashes. Ah fuck.

“Sal?“ Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. “Sal? What is it?“

He opened his mouth just to close it again. Not that she saw it anyway. Slowly, she pushed her upper body up onto her elbows, finally blinking up at him. It was dark but her breath caught in her throat when she finally took in the man looming over her bed. “Is- Is that blood?“ He didn’t know when but he stopped breathing, just holding everything inside to ground himself but was it worth it when the oxygen felt like acid slowly corroding everything it touched - every square inch from what lining was left inside his nose to his throat all the way inside his lungs? The corruption would split him open again again again again and eat her whole the second his fingertips grazed her familiar skin. Skin he painted with his own, skin he kissed, skin he was about to split before it split him. If he just didn’t touch her would it be ok? If his skin wouldn’t touch her this time would she still be there tomorrow? Sal finally released the air trapped inside him against his mask as she sat up, sucking more air in as she clutched the blue blanket.

There was a moment of silence, of nothing, of her exhaling shakily with a fear in her features that rendered him completely still, of him just staring at her wide eyed and breathing erratically now. A silent moment for her to consider any possibility to get the fuck out this room and for him to find it in himself to finish the job. He couldn’t but funnily enough she gave him the final shove by kicking her legs out of the blanket and throwing herself off the creaking mattress past Sal - or trying to. He saw it coming the moment her hands twitched and shoved the frayed hem away. Sal just had to extend his right arm for her to fall into it with a yelp. He slung it around her waist tightly, afraid it would bruise her, and slammed her back into the mattress. It knocked the wind out of her for just long enough to straddle her body, arms pressed up against her sides by his thighs and it left her kicking wildly. It was just like the times they would wrestle on the bed because it made her laugh. She wasn’t laughing this time. She was yelling. He knew because he saw her mouth hung open, tense and afraid. But he only heard noise and he felt bad that he couldn’t make out her words, if they even were words. Sal swallowed. Would he make it worse if he told her that he loved her now? Would she just thrash out his grip if he held her with blood coating his hair, blood dripping from his fake chin and nose, blood making the knife handle a little too slick to hold properly? He didn’t want to find out so he settled with wiping the back of his hand on his jeans and putting his other hand on her stomach to catch himself from the way the room spun around him. She flinched. She never flinched from his touch before.

His hand yanked up the tank top covering her stomach, all the way up to her ribs. She was breathing so hard that her skin kept stretching and shrinking to make room for her expanding ribcage. Was she still screaming? She was. His hand flew up to her face by instinct, pressing against her mouth to muffle her screams to throaty groans and whimpers as she struggled to focuse her eyes on him. He knew she was trying to slip out his name. He didn’t know how, he just knew.

Sal didn’t look at her as he brought the knife closer but he felt the way she tensed and pressed backwards into the mattress, away from the knife, away from her murder boyfriend on their anniversary. He wanted to guide her through but there really wasn’t a way around it. It would definitely be worse if he confessed his undying love to her like he wasn’t about to scratch out the undying part, like she wasn’t already dead meat. He would have to be quick like with Soda. He wanted to throw up. It was so easy to just plunge the knife through the ribs but where was that sweet spot on an adult woman? Fuck. He let her shirt fall back down, clutching her left shoulder instead to push her deeper into the mattress. He didn’t mean to but he automatically looked into her eyes. She was crying, pleading with him the way he didn‘t let her plead with her words. Nothing but fear, confusion and adrenaline pooled in her eyes, overflowing as tears down her temples. Her eyes never held so much resentment against him. His were bloodshot, hollow, wet with old tears, staring back at her without any expression like a void opened behind the only good eye he had left to shield his pain.

Sal thought about the time Ash told him how to pierce an ear. “Breathe in, hold it and push it through while exhaling. Won‘t feel a thing.“ Maybe he was stupid, delusional. Maybe he was clutching the last straws. But he filled his lungs and held his breath for just a few seconds before exhaling and shakily pressing the tip of the blade down. God, she was screaming so loud, it pierced through every static in his head, heaving and twitching as blood soaked her shirt, soaked her blanket and sheet. His hand slipped off the wet handle, leaving the blade buried in her chest about six inches deep with two sticking out. Why was she still thrashing? Why wasn‘t she fucking dead yet? Sal panicked as he yanked the blade back out, making her blood coat his mask as it sprayed out from the force. His heart was beating in his throat in an attempt to finally stop hers. Her blood felt like it was scorching his skin off his flesh, his flesh off his bones and he thrusted his knife back inside all the way, dragging it down, tearing her chest in two as he finally reduced her screaming to gargling chokes, sobs and broken calls that he sometimes identified as variations of his name.

“You killed her, bud.“ I know. “Her mother told her to leave your sorry ass, yknow? But she offered you her pinky and you cut it clean off, fucker.“ Yeah. She should have done that. “You’re going to die, rotting in a cell to live with the guilt.“ I deserve it.

Sal watched the light drain from her eyes while the blood drained from her gaping chest. His home he was longing for since 1984, it crumbled like her mother predicted, maybe not under for the reasons she expected. The static in his ears left, offering a moment of silence until there were too many voices screaming behind him.

“You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us.“

“I loved you. You killed me, Sal.“

He clenched his eyes shut. The voices whispered, cried, screamed. Her voice was the loudest by just calling his name with a smile on her face and their hands intertwined - calling his name with fear in her eyes and his fingers curled around the knife sticking out of her chest. He finally shuffled off of her, dropping onto the blood soaked mattress next to her, staring. She was screaming. Not his name, just screaming so loud it made his ears ring until he couldn’t bare it anymore. Sal pulled her close like her used to do on the nights approaching August 16th. He laid her head against his chest, draped an arm over her back and rested the other on her hair. It felt wet. The knife handle uncomfortably dug into his stomach but he rested his chin on her soft hair. Sal always thought it was his prosthetic that made him whole. He felt lost without it, bare and incomplete. The nightmares manifested into real life fears. Nightmares like his scars just opening back up, ripping him apart all over again. But now she was gone and the mask did nothing to stop the feeling of falling apart under her weight on his chest. He felt like splitting apart inside the shell that was him, Sally Face, filling his prosthetic with gore until it started to seep out the eyeholes like it was seeping out her open chest. But right now he wasn’t Sally Face. He was Sal Fisher, assailant and guilty for the mass murder of 13 tenants in Addison Apartments.

Sal studied the top of her head in silence, watching her own blood drip from the tip of the mask‘s nose to be soaked up by her hair. She always took relatively good care of it and scolded him for not doing the same until they fell into the routine of her brushing his days old knots out of his hair as he let his fingertips ghost over his guitar. He was always so relaxed as she searched his hair for split ends to cut off every few months. He loved it but now he wasn’t sure if he would ever get a hair cut again. He mindlessly leaned against the headboard. His prosthetic started to itch from the sweat that stuck it to his skin. His prosthetic that scared her at first. They were 15 and she just moved in five months after Sal arrived with his dad. He wasn’t offended when she would quickly walk past him in the hallways. It was fine to just be strangers until Ash brought her along at school and she laughed at everything he said. It was a week of this until Larry decided to be the best wingman ever. He made it his mission to get them together before gradation. And like a true Johnson he stuck to his plan because Lisa didn’t raise her son to be a quitter. True to his promise, he convinced Sal after eight months of pining to finally make his move on her. They were 16, bordering onto 17, when Sal very awkwardly asked her on a little trip to Lake Wendigo.

“Would you go to the lake with me? Not- Not as a date, yknow. I mean, unless you wanted that. It’s not a date though.“ - “Yeah, I’d like to go, Sal.“

It was absolutely a date. Larry tried to tickle a high five out of Sal after hearing the news but god, he was so embarrassed, pressing his clammy palm against his prosthetic to will away the heat in the mask.

“So“, Sal started as they sat on the edge of the water, tossing pebbles into the large lake. “So“, she mirrored, digging her shoe into the mud. “I asked you to come here because Larry told me to.“ He quickly shook his head probably because Larry told him that he should leave that detail out. “I mean- I mean, it was my idea. Yeah, it was. I wanted to tell you something. You know how Ash told you about how I‘m weird about touching and hugging as a heads up to not freak me out? Yeah, I don‘t really like that usually. But- But I don‘t care about the way you touch me.“ She saw the way his throat bobbed once he realised how mean that sounded. “Not that I don‘t care, uh, I just don‘t mind. I dont mind when we ride in the back of that shitty cramped car that Ash lends from her aunt.“ Sal started to fiddle with his sleeve. “And it was kinda sweet how Larry taught you how to inhale smoke. You were, like, really excited about getting cancer but it was- cute. How you were proud when you got it. Sometimes you do these small things and they just make it really hard to breathe. And it‘s not your fault or anything. I- Larry said I would know what to say when the time is right. But I guess there is no right time.“ He rubbed his neck nervously. “Say it, Fisher“, she said, much too quiet but his head snapped towards her. Her face was blank of any expression but her eyes glimmered and gleamed like those gemstones she told him about before. He didn‘t know the name. “I can‘t- I don‘t know how.“ He couldn‘t look away as she put her weight on one arm, leaning towards him. She was scooting closer and Sal felt his heart beat behind his face. “Go out with me“, he suddenly blurted out, stopping her dead in her tracks. “Please“, he added breathlessly before she took his hand, intertwining their fingers. She loved how his long fingers rode up her hand, how cool his touch was.

“Sal, please. I know Larry has seen it before.“ She trailed behind her boyfriend of roughly one month on their way to the buildings elevator. “I didn’t mean to. It just slipped off.“ His voice was so distant as he pressed the button, watching the number close in to the 1st floor. “Do you not want to?“ There was a brief silence as she stood behind him, sounding so small and it made his heart ache. “That’s not it, love“, he tried to offer but she didn’t answer as the elevator doors slid open. She pushed past him into the empty space, he followed. She waited for him to press their respective floor numbers but didn’t say anything else. The doors closed again when Sal faced his girlfriend. “Listen. It’s not- easy.“ She didn’t reply, only shuffled in place a little as her sole scratched across the elevator floor. “I do want to. I want to kiss you but-“ He cut himself off. They both knew how he felt about his face. They both knew she was being unreasonable but could he blame her? He held her hand in public after two weeks of dating because he was anxious. He held her in private a week later while watching a movie with her. But he refused to kiss her. She resorted to kissing the lips of his prosthetic and it made his stomach flutter but she just wanted more. She wanted real. On the rare occasion that he slept over he slept in his mask, taking the pain of the hard shell pressing into his tender side all night instead of sharing the most private moment with her by showing her his everything. He felt like an asshole, sure. But the thought made him want to vomit into the small space.

“I said that I would let you go at your own pace but at this point, you’re in parking on the side of the road, Sal. You can‘t hide from me forever.“ Her words stung like daggers. “I’m not hiding. This is my face. I will show you my past, I promise.“ He stepped closer, offering her his pinky. He found it silly when she first brought up pinky swears but it became their way of showing they were serious. “Really?“ She searched for something in his one functioning eye, a lie. But there was only warmth for her so she curled her pinky around his. “Really. You aren’t my past but you’re my present and will be my future.“

She flushed at that. He knew how this sappy shit fucked with her head and they held onto each other’s pinky when they reached her floor. Sal walked her to her door in silence but his heart was lighter than when he stepped into the elevator. “So“, she started. “See you tomorrow, Sally.“ She turned around only to feel his lips on hers and his hands gripping her shoulders to keep her in place.

The punch was horrible sugar water, the snacks went stale an hour ago, the jocks snuck in booze so a good amount of soon to be graduating kids were drunk off their ass, Larry was high and sharing his spliff with Ash and holy fuck, the music was ass. But it was the best night of Sal’s life - their prom. Him and Larry always said how stupid prom was, how they wouldn’t dress up and how they wouldn’t go in the first place. And now here he was in dark blue dress pants and a button up, holding two cups of the most disgusting juice he ever got to taste. And he loved every second because she kissed the gap between his mask and his ear, whispering a little “thank you“ for holding onto her drink while she used the bathroom. And god, his heart jumped in shapes that weren’t even known to man yet at how utterly, completely, deeply and horrifyingly pretty his girl looked. His throat ran dry everytime he had the chance to look at her in that dress. He knew that she went shopping for it with Ash, he needed to thank her for that some other time.

“You‘re pretty.“ She could barely hear him over the music and it was the eleventh time he said it that night. She still giggled, taking his hand to lead him to the crowd of students. “Will you dance with me?“ His knees felt weak at her question, how she held his hands, how she looked at him with the love he never thought he would be able to receive. “Anytime“, he croaked as they both found the rhythm of some badly mixed song they already played last year but he would never get the song out of his head again as he lost himself in her movements.

The night went beautifully until it didn‘t. The moment the beats got heavier and the crowd got louder Sal found himself get bolder until his mask had no more grip and the buckle just gave up. Suddenly everything was silent around him with his mask on the floor and seconds felt like minutes before his hands flew up to cover himself. He heard how she called out to him, felt how she lead him out of the gym to escape into the much less crowded hallway.

“Sal? Honey, look at me.“ Sal wasn’t sure if she was whispering or yelling. Everything was muffled by the intense nausea building in his stomach. He was too scared to reply because the bile was threatening to boil over and just spill onto her shoes and the skirt of her dress. His already impaired vision swam with tears as he felt fingertips gently trace the back of his hands. Sal swallowed a sob as he allowed her to pull his hands away but he didn’t pick his head up. His wild hair dropped over his face like a curtain and it was the only thing blocking the tears from just pouring until he reached the privacy of his room. “Please, love. Please. Let’s leave, please“, he choked out with a thick voice. A voice that deep had no business sounding that small. Sal felt a familiar comfort on his face as she gently pressed his prosthetic to his skin. He let her buckle it onto his head before finally looking at her. “It’s ok. Let’s go home.“ Sal nodded, taking her hand and letting her guide them outside into the pouring rain.

“Ah shit“, they said almost at the same time. He stayed under the roof for a moment, unsure if she wanted to ruin her look in the rain but she already stepped into the rain and pulled him along. She was still so beautiful, it made him ache. “I’m sorry“, he breathed into the droplets hitting his mask. “You can’t control the weather. It’s ok, I don’t-“ He tightened his grip on her hand. “I ruined your prom night“, he blurted out, making anything she wanted to say die on her tongue before she could discover what it was. Sal felt a little resistance as she stood still but held his hand tight enough to make him stop too. “What is-?“

“Sal, will you finally dance with me?“ His breath caught in his throat. She looked like she was sculpted from the image of a goddess, dripping in rain with mascara running down her face and her dress clinging to her skin. His first response was to close the gap between them, pulling her close. They didn‘t mind the cars driving by because tonight the world belonged to them even if it was only for a few hours.

“Anytime.“ She was warm despite the steady rain prickling her like needles. It was like she was his source of light and warmth that refused to let him go cold again. She was so warm.

She was so cold. Sal pressed her harder into his chest, digging the knife’s blade in her squelching flesh and the handle just above his ribs. He didn’t mind. He wasn’t the one facing the sharp end after all.

Flashes of red and blue dully lit the room’s walls from the outside, siren’s pierced the aching silence. The room never felt this cold before. He never told her about the building being haunted. He never told her about the cult. He never told her that he wasn’t mauled by a real dog. He wanted something normal for once. And it was the best thing he ever had because she was his only pilar that no man, no ghost, no freaky demon could bend or chip until Sal crushed his Eden.

When the cops busted the door off its hinges he realised he never got the chance to show her his notebook full of songs he wrote for her.

#tw gore #angst #sally face #sal fisher #sally face x reader #sal fisher x reader

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bethansfandoms · 3 years

Note

/post/647279129847283712/okay-so-anonymous-on-instagram-asked-me-how-do : your take on why sirius sent snape to the willow hasn't left me since you published it, so good! i know the prank has been written about time and time again, but i'd just love to see your take on the aftermath of the prank - how mad remus is, how and when and why he finds it in him to forgive sirius... your writing is incredible and i would be grateful forever if you wrote this! 🐺⭐🙏

You don't have to have read part one of this for the post to make sense <3

Sirius panicked the moment he landed on the floor of the Potter's living room.

He hadn't been thinking, he had been so scared, so in pain, that in the moment he had grabbed the floo powder and requested to be taken to James', he had temporarily forgotten that James didn't want to see him. He had been so desperate to escape from his house that he hadn't taken the time to just think.

Sirius hadn't spent Christmas at home in a long time. Usually, the marauders would stay at Hogwarts or he would go to James'. For the Christmas of his fifth year, however, he had announced that he was going home. The brief conversation in which he had informed them of this had been the most he'd spoken to them in months.

Sirius knew he wasn't welcome to spend Christmas with the marauders, not after what he'd done, not after he'd told Snape how to get past the whomping willow.

To Sirius, it didn't matter the circumstances, it didn't matter that Snape knew legilimency, that he'd been provoked, none of it mattered because the first thing Remus had told him was that he didn't want to hear excuses, and so Sirius had decided not to go against his wishes, not then and not ever again.

He'd kept his distance, it had been killing him, but he'd stayed away. The only time the four of them were together was late at night when Sirius, his head hung, would enter the dormitory, quickly walk over to his bed, and draw the curtains.

James had shouted at him more than Remus had and Sirius stood there and took it, he'd never seen James so angry, not at anybody, and so, even in the delirious state he was in, he knew he'd messed up coming to his house.

"Sirius?" Sirius took a moment before his eyes were able to focus on the doorway. James was stood in his pyjamas, only for a brief moment, before he was running to Sirius' side. "Mum! Dad! Fuck, Sirius, what happened?"

"Parents. I’m sorry," Sirius croaked.

He only caught a brief glimpse of James' parents entering the room before consciousness escaped him.

He awoke still on the floor, James and Euphemia knelt at his side. "Fleamont has locked the floo network," Euphemia said softly, "he's writing to Dumbledore now, you're safe."

James squeezed his arm, "You're staying with us. You're not going back to your parents, Padfoot." Sirius almost cried at the nickname, he'd missed it so much.

He was, however, confused. Had James forgotten to be angry at him? He didn't get much time to dwell on it, he felt his eyes closing and blackness claimed him again.

This time, he awoke in a bed, the one in the room he usually stayed him. James was there still, fiddling with his glasses. "Feel like passing out again?" he asked, smiling weakly.

Sirius tried to smile in return, "No, I think I'm alright for now.”

James nodded, "Look, Sirius, mum said... she said it looked like someone had performed the—"

"I don't want to talk about it," he whispered. James nodded in response and dropped the subject. "I'm sorry I came here," Sirius said, voice breaking, "I didn't know where else to go."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because... because of what happened in September, because I told Snape about the whomping willow. You're angry at me."

James ran his hands through his hair and sighed, "I know I said I wouldn't forgive you until Remus did, and I meant it. But I— Sirius, I told you going home was a good idea. If I'd just let you come here, been the bigger fucking person..."

"I would have gone home anyway, no matter what you said."

"Yeah," James scoffed, "you're a stubborn git like that. Look, I was about to write to Peter and Remus so they—"

"No!" Sirius had tried to sit up too suddenly and his back gave a painful twinge, "no, you can't tell Remus. He'll feel bad and forgive me and I can't have him do that until he's ready. You can't write to him."

"Alright," James said, "try and get some sleep then, okay mate?"

Sirius nodded, "Promise not to write to Remus?"

"Promise."

Sirius slowly blinked awake to daylight streaming through the curtains. He tentatively sat up, stretching as much as the pain in his bones allowed him to. Then, he almost jumped half to death.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you." Remus was smiling at him from his chair in the corner, and Sirius had missed his smile so much.

"What are you doing here? It was the full moon last night!"

"Yeah, yeah, it was," Remus sounded almost surprised that Sirius had remembered, like he would ever forget. "James wrote. I got the letter early this morning, used the floo network to get straight here. I probably look like shit.”

"I told him not to write," Sirius mumbled.

"I know, he told me. Sirius, what you did, it was... but I never wanted you to think I was so irreversibly angry that I wouldn't be here for you after something like this."

Sirius nodded sadly, biting his lip in an attempt to stop any tears. "Remus, I know you hate me for what I did, but I... I hate myself for it more than you ever could."

Remus sighed, sadly, "I don't hate you, Sirius. I think maybe I want to, but I don’t, I never could.”

"Snape knows legilimency," Sirius blurted. "I know you didn't want excuses, this isn't one, I just... I tried to block him, my mother had used it on me before, I was blocking him but he kept trying to use me to confirm you were a werewolf and I got so angry and I told him. I know it doesn't justify—"

He stopped speaking as Remus got up and walked across the room, sitting in bed next to him. "Why didn't you tell me that?"

"Doesn't change anything. I still told him."

Remus kicked off his shoes and pulled back the duvet, lying down and sighing. Sirius slowly mirrored his position. "I forgive you, you know."

Sirius thought he might cry. "You don't have to, just because my parents... it doesn't mean you have to feel bad for me or whatever."

"I was always going to forgive you, Sirius. I hated to admit it to myself because I was so fucking angry at you, but I knew I was always going to forgive you. So why not now?"

Sirius shuffled closer and hugged him, then. They would hug s like this sometimes after one of them had had a nightmare. Sirius had never been big fan of physical affection, not in the same way James was, but he hugged Remus tight, only relaxing when he felt Remus hug him back.

James pushed the door open slowly, he couldn't hear Remus and Sirius talking, he’d left them alone for a good hour. Briefly, he wondered if maybe they'd killed one another and that was why there was complete silence from within the room.

Instead of any casualties, he found Sirius and Remus asleep, the duvet over them but not enough to hide the way their limbs were tangled together.

He sighed to himself. He'd found them this way before, some mornings in the dormitory, the two of them sleeping soundly in bed together for reasons he didn't quite know.

"Knew I was right to send Remus an owl," he muttered to himself, closing the door and letting them sleep.

#wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar fanfic #wolfstar fanfiction #marauders #remus lupin x sirius black #sirius black x remus lupin #wolfstar blog #James potter #wolfstar headcannon #mwpp #marauders era #oneshot

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songbirdstyles · 4 years

Text

good vibrations.

summary: it’s a bit more difficult than you’d expected to maintain a relationship with your professor, but you and harry try your best, anyway. (sequel to when i kissed the teacher)

pairing: professor!harry styles x reader

warnings: smut, angst & fluff! m + f receiving oral, facesitting, 69ing. gross frat boys :-(

word count: 14.3k

song inspo.: good vibrations - the beach boys

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a slight jolt of panic.

Your eyes open slowly, staring at the ceiling above you, and that - in itself - is normal. But there’s something heavy wrapped around your waist and a soft aroma of men’s cologne and that’s when confusion settles into your bones.

It lasts a few mere seconds but it’s enough to make you sit up, leaning back against the headboard and rubbing your fists into your eyes. Harry’s arm, firm around your torso just seconds before, drops to your lap, and your eyes follow the path down his arm and to the rest of him. Perhaps it’s strange, gazing at him as he sleeps, unaware of your gaze, but it’s hard to help yourself.

His hair is messy, curls sticking up everywhere, and his face is buried into the pillow your head had just been on. He’s also naked, the duvet falling to just above his bum, and as your eyes trail down the expanse of his bare back, taking particular note of the light pink scratches adorning the top, that’s when the night prior finally comes back to you. Being eaten out against the wall, a playlist made of pure love, his hands on your face as he promises this isn’t a one time thing.

Your professor, fucking you so hard that there’s still a slight ache between your thighs.

You exhale, dropping your head back against the headboard. The thought overwhelms you, momentarily, but you don’t have too much time to dwell on it before you feel Harry stirring besides you, his arm leaving your lap as he rolls over onto his back. His eyes open slowly, squinting as he adjusts to the sunlight streaming through the window, and then he looks at you and the smile that upturns his lips could make you tear up.

“G’morning, baby,” Harry murmurs, voice throaty and quiet. “Hope you had a nice sleep.”

You grin as you watch him slowly sit up, stretching his arms above his head. “It was alright,” you tell him, pausing to yawn. “Your bed is much more comfortable than the one in my dorm.”

“I’m sure.” You scoot forward, and just as Harry turns his head to look at you you lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. They’re dry and you’re sure yours are too - it’s not as though you’d been concerned with putting on lip balm the night before - but it’s perfect, made even better as he presses his hand to your back, pulling your body closer into his, running his tongue along your bottom lip.

A soft moan falls from your lips and he pulls back, nails running along the back of your neck and sending a shiver down your spine. “So needy. S’only 8 in the morning, too.”

You push yourself to your knees and sink into his lap, feeling his hard on against your thigh that proves he’s just as needy as you are, even at 8 in the morning. “Can’t help it,” you mutter, leaning in to press your lips to the underside of his jaw. His head drops back, giving you more room to work as his hand creeps up from where it had landed on your hip to your chest, kneading your right breast in his hand while you work at suckling a hickey into his soft skin. When his fingers tweak at your nipple you pull your mouth away to moan and examine the mark you’d made, brushing your thumb over it lightly. You hadn’t gotten the chance to mark him up last night, save for the scratches that decorated his back, but you’re more than happy to make up for any lost time now. “I miss you, professor. Everything about you. It’s been too long.”

He chuckles, trailing his other hand down to run a finger through your folds, collecting your wetness at the tip of his finger and focusing it on your clit. He presses down and then rubs a slow circle into the sensitive nub, smirking as you whimper at the sensation. “It has been too long. Nearly 10 hours, can’t imagine how you - fuck.”

Your hand had snaked down, wrapping around his member and swiping your thumb over the tip of him. Harry leans in, pressing his lips to your neck, teeth grazing against your skin as you slowly jerk him off, pumping your hand up and down his cock. You think - or you hope - that you can give of some sort of facade of being experienced at this, of knowing exactly what you’re doing, because you truthfully have no idea. You’d never given anyone a handjob but Harry’s finger, rubbing your clit slowly, stutters as he breathes out a groan, and you hope that means you’re doing a good job.

Two of his fingers slip inside your cunt entirely too easily, and you whine at the feeling. Harry curls his fingers upwards, brushing against the sweet spot that has your eyes rolling back into your head. You’re both too worked up for any type of foreplay, you can tell, and so you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his face into yours. Your lips connect, teeth clashing against each other, and when he pulls his fingers out of you, resting both hands on the globes of your ass, you reach down and replace your grasp on his cock, lining it up with your positively dripping entrance before sinking onto him fully.

The burn is a lot less prominent than it had been yesterday but you still hesitate - Harry groans lowly and you exhale, waiting for the ache to morph fully into pleasure before lifting your hips and sinking back down onto him. You swear you can feel traces of him in every crevice of your body, feeling so impossibly full and yet so desperate for more. His hands grip your bum, helping you lift yourself up and down, shaky grunts and moans escaping his mouth whenever you roll your hips just right against his.

It’s slower and less intimidating than it had been the night prior, his hips lazily bucking up into yours, now that you’re not so worried about being able to fit him inside of you. And the noises Harry makes spur you on - throaty cries nearly louder than yours - as you drag your hand down your stomach and rub circles into your clit, slow and gentle, because you know you’re not going to need much to send you over the edge.

“So fucking tight around me,” Harry breathes, teeth nibbling at your bottom lip as his palms smooth over your ass. “Fuck, baby, clench around m’cock, yeah, feels so fuckin’ good -”

Your fingers press harder on your clit and you can already feel your orgasm creeping up on you, and when you rock your hips into Harry’s, feeling his cock brush against your G spot, you toss your head back with a desperate cry, cunt fluttering around him as pleasure rips through your body in waves. Eyes roll back into your head and your nails dig into the back of his neck, pulling his head in to kiss you senseless. With one final grunt and a moan of your name, Harry bucks his hips up, pressing himself as deep inside of you as he can get. The feeling of his cum, shot inside your throbbing pussy, shouldn’t feel so spectacular but God it does and you whine at the feeling, bringing both of your hands up to the back of his head and wrapping your fingers in his curls as you roll your hips back and forth halfheartedly. Merely trying to ride him through his orgasm, and finally Harry presses both of his sweaty palms to your face and pulls you in to kiss him again.

You could kiss him all day. You’ve kissed significantly more people than you’ve fucked (which amounts to a grand total of 2) and you’ve never enjoyed it with anyone as much as you love it with him. Harry makes it interesting, you reckon, hands always going in different spots and making different noises and you could, truly, do it all day.

For a moment the two of you sit there after you’ve pulled your heads away, Harry’s arms wrapped around your back and holding your body to his in a rather intimate hug. Your nails scratch at his scalp, pressing your chin into his shoulder as his fingers trace patterns - tell stories - on the soft skin of your back. Yes, you could stay here forever and be quite happy about it but just as the thought resides in your mind your stomach growls in defiance and Harry laughs at the noise.

“Don’t laugh,” you tell him, voice faux angry as you pull back from him with a smile. “Didn’t have anything to eat last night.”

“Really?” He raises an eyebrow and you nod. “So what did you do before I picked you up?”

Your cheeks heat as you struggle to find your voice to respond, clearing your throat before saying, “Keeping m’self busy, I guess. Now can we please make breakfast?”

Twenty minutes later you’re seated at Harry’s kitchen table, collecting forkfuls of cheesy eggs on your fork and shoveling them into your mouth to appease your overtly ravenous appetite, listening intently to the music coming from Harry’s phone in the kitchen. It’s a song you recognize from the playlist he’d curated the day prior - Happy Together by the Turtles - and you can’t help the smile from bleeding across your face at the sound.

Besides that, though, and the sounds of your forks scraping your plates, the two of you sit in silence for a moment. Beneath the table your feet knock into his - you’d begun swinging your feet out of slight nervousness but it’s grown into the need to see the small smirk that decorates his lips everytime you kick him gently.

When the song changes from The Turtles to And I Love Her by the Beatles, you glance up at him again and then rest your fork on your plate. “Y’know, this is a really nice playlist.”

Harry looks up at you, brows furrowed, and then smiles, and the sight of his dimples makes your heart just about melt. “Well, thank you, baby. Put a lot of effort into it.”

Part of you wants to say it only took you ten minutes but you just nod and tell him, “But I think you might’ve added too many Beatles songs.”

“There’s no such thing,” he says, and you raise your eyebrows. “S’not my fault they’ve written some of the greatest love songs of all time.”

You snort, then, leaning back in his (oddly comfortable, considering the quality of that in his office) kitchen chair. “Sexy Sadie is not one of the greatest love songs of all time.”

He pauses at that, forkful of eggs hanging barely an inch from his mouth. “Well, maybe not that song, but -”

“10 Beatles songs out of 45 is rather excessive.” You giggle as he stands abruptly, marching into the kitchen and returning seconds later, phone in hand, still blaring the Beatles as if in defiance. “What’re you doing now?”

Harry sits back down, scrolling through his phone. You stand up, moving around the table until you’re beside him, and you bend down to look at what he’s doing.

“What song d’you think should replace Sexy Sadie, baby?” Harry asks you, turning his head to where yours is a mere few inches from his. “Since you don’t seem to think that one is very romantic.”

You roll your eyes. “You’d be hard pressed to find a single person who considers that song to be the height of love, professor.”

“Yeah, right.” Briefly Harry rests his phone flat on the table and pushes his chair back, patting his thighs, and you try not to look too pleased as you wiggle into his lap. With his arm firm around your waist and his chin on your shoulder you pick his phone back up, scrolling through Spotify.

“I don’t think you have Good Vibrations on that love playlist, Harry,” you decide. Just to confirm your suspicion you go back into the playlist, scrolling through all 45 songs and - as you’d thought - the lack of Good Vibrations is odd to you. “And that, professor, may just be the best love song of all time.”

He hums as you add the song to the playlist. “Better than Somebody to Love?”

You shrug, sticking out your bottom lip as you flick through Spotify. “That song just makes me sad, sometimes. And you don’t even have that, either.”

“I definitely do!”

“Nope,” you tell him, turning your head to the side to examine his all-too confused expression. “But you do have Get Down, Make Love, which says quite a bit about you.”

Harry groans, and you laugh, and for a moment that’s all that happens - and then the moment breaks, and he reaches out to take his phone from your grasp, and you shift in his lap to look at him with a soft smile.

Whatever banter you’d been having before slowly dissipates, and you clear your throat. “D’you think we should talk about this?”

His hand drops to your hip, squeezing it through the pink button up shirt he’d worn yesterday that you’d snatched from the bedroom floor. “Don’t really think there’s much to talk about,” he says, but you know that isn’t necessarily true.

Truthfully, the last 12 hours have perhaps been the greatest of your life and even if he told you it wasn’t a one time thing - well, he’d just cum inside you and you need to make sure it wasn’t his way of keeping you for the night. And you couldn’t bring yourself to think Harry’s like that at all - the opposite, truly, the greatest man you’ve ever met. But you need to make sure, to ease your mind.

“Um - I guess -” you struggle for the words, suddenly feeling embarrassed for bringing it up, and Harry’s hand flies up to your cheek, cradling it, and the gentle action has you relaxing almost immediately. “I know you said this wasn’t a - one time thing, or whatever -”

“And it isn’t,” he interrupts, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Not for me.”

“Okay,” you breathe, the turmoil your stomach had been going through calming slightly. “But there’s still other things - you’re still my professor. Seems like kind of a big thing.”

Harry pauses for a moment, and you adjust yourself in his lap again - you can feel the beginning of a boner against your ass but you figure you’ll deal with that later. Then Harry drops his hand from your cheek to the small of your back, massaging soft circles through his shirt, and says, “I want you to know that I’ve never slept with a student before. Never even thought about it.”

You nod, and you know it’s true. You’ve heard girls in class talking about it - how he’s refused his students’ advances and reported them for it, and any rumour of him hooking up with a student was immediately squashed by everyone in the surrounding area. He’s a prude. He’s probably into, like, old ladies, or dudes, or something, because there’s no way he can be a regular guy and not have fucked one of us already.

It made you roll your eyes to listen to, but it did cement in the fact that Harry wasn’t one of the few teachers at university who would willingly hop into bed with any student who asked politely.

“But I like you - a lot.” His hand pauses on your back as he draws his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing gently. “If you weren’t my student, things would be perfect.”

Part of you hates the word choice, that things are so imperfect now, but you know it’s true. Know that, even if you simply weren’t in his class, everything would be so much easier.

You nod. “I like you a lot, too.” And then you stop and think before adding, “I think as long as we don’t do anything on campus it’s fine.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, leaning in to press a kiss to your nose. It’s as though the two of you can’t live for more than a minute without showing some sort of affection towards each other, and perhaps that should make you concerned but you love it. “We’ll keep everything here. No funny business in m’office or anything like that.”

That resolution lasts roughly a week.

You go to his office after class even though you’ve run out of things to grade, and you work on homework and he helps you study and the most action either of you get is small kisses over his desk. It’s a struggle to pull away from him, but the worry that both of you feel about someone walking in is enough to keep you in your seats.

Though, for the most part, his office hours remain empty. A few stragglers come in, a mix of students who genuinely need help and girls who you can tell hate that you’re in there during their seduction attempts. And Harry plays music, of course, turning it down to the lowest volume on the rare occasions that students come in.

At the end of the day, you walk out to his car together and Harry either drives you home or to his apartment - depends what you’re feeling that day - and in the morning he either picks you up or takes you from his apartment to your first class and it’s a nearly perfect arrangement.

You’ve forgotten, though, about your decision to remain innocent on campus. It’s what you’d expected to happen at some point, with your absolute desperation for each other, but it still manages to slightly shock you as you glance up at him from your spot on your knees. Your hand works at his dick, watching the way he drops his head back against the wall, grasping the cushions of the couch in his fingers.

“Fuck,” he breathes, voice cracking on the c, though you can’t quite hear it over Waterloo by ABBA playing just a bit too loudly in his small office. You’d made sure to crank the volume up a bit more than usual in case he let out any too-loud noises, and it looked like he was on his way to doing just that as a grunt escapes from between his gritted teeth. “Fuck, baby -”

(You’ve never given a blowjob before but it seems easy enough, though your stomach turns pathetically as you lean in and lick a thin stripe up the underside of his cock, tracing a purple vein. He seems to like that and you pray he can’t tell you’re an absolute amateur at this all.)

Your thumb swipes over the tip of his cock, which you know he likes, and the moan that’s still barely audible beneath the music proves it. You make sure to keep your eyes on Harry, monitoring his every reaction as you lean in, wrapping your lips around the tip of his length and sliding as much of him as you can down your throat.

That’s good. Harry’s hand goes to the back of your head, wrapping his fingers in the strands of your hair and tugging, groaning near violently, his breathing laboured. “Jesus Christ.”

Your hand drops to the base of his cock, pumping what you can’t fit in your mouth which - admittedly - is just barely less than half. You swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock before pulling your mouth off of him, a string of saliva still connecting your lips and his member.

“Feel good, professor?” you ask, sticking your bottom lip out, but you know very well it does - Harry’s hand goes down to your lips, wiping your spit off of your skin, before leaning back again. “Sure looks it.”

“Keep going, m’girl.”

The thought of being his girl brings a slight smile to your lips, and you could bask in the words for the rest of the day but instead you lean in, bracing both of your hands on his thighs through his nice dress bands, wrinkling beneath your fingers. And now - you really don’t know what to do, besides exactly what you’d done before - but you wrap your lips around him again, lowering your head to take more of him than before, and then you hollow your cheeks (which you’d seen in porn) and swallow around him (which you’d also seen in porn.)

It has the desired effect, seemingly, as Harry yelps, fingers tightening in your hair tight enough that you can begin to feel strands disconnecting from your scalp but oddly enough, you sort of like it. His grip loosens near immediately, scratching your head with the tips of his fingers in some sort of silent apology. Harry certainly seems to like that so you do it again, gathering saliva in the back of your throat and swallowing again, and he moans, the noise cutting through the music (which had turned to Oh, Pretty Woman), and if there happened to be anyone outside they would hear it louder than anything else.

It doesn’t make either of you stop. You pull off of him, sucking in a desperate breath as you pump him in your hand again before going back in, working your mouth up and down his length, relishing in the soft noises that escaped him with every one of your movements.

“God, baby, taking me so well,” Harry mutters, brushing a stray curl off your face. As your tongue flicks over his tip again his hips buck up into your mouth of their own accord - you gag around him and he breathes out a quiet apology but you can tell he’s almost there, and finally he groans, “Gonna cum - fuck - m’gonna cum -”

Perhaps it was a warning so you would pull your mouth off of him, revert to jerking him off, but you may as well finish your first blowjob off with a bang, so you take nearly all of his member into your mouth and suck. You barely get a few seconds before you can feel the ribbons of warm cum shooting into the back of your throat, and when Harry’s moans quiet down into heavy pants you pull off of him. His cum in your mouth doesn’t taste particularly fabulous but you swallow it anyway - it’s not horrible, truthfully. And the way his eyes darken as he watches you makes the slightly unpleasant taste ten times better, anyway.

“C’mere,” Harry tells you, and you rise from your knees to stand between his legs, looking down at him as he tucks himself back into his dress pants. When he buttons them he looks almost normal, not like his dick was down your throat a minute before - but you can tell, looking into his eyes, the effect you’d had on him. “Christ, you’re good at that.”

You hum, bending down to press a kiss to his lips. “Funny how fast you dropped the whole not doing anything on campus act, professor.”

Harry rolls his eyes, rising from his spot sunk into the couch. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

(But it does, of course.)

(Again and again.)

You throw your body across the couch in Harry’s office as soon as you shut the door, dropping your bag to the ground. You pretend not to notice the slightly amused glance your professor gives you - he’s marking up someone’s essay though he’d only assigned them a few days before and you had hardly even looked at the rubric for it. There’s only a few that have been handed in and when you offered, the day prior, to help him grading, he told you he didn’t need it. And you didn’t press it any further, naturally.

Well, you didn’t mind not grading. It was tedious and boring, and you’d only slightly enjoyed it before because you got to spend time with Harry. And you don’t exactly need an excuse, anymore. You can do what you want with him, now, like lying on his couch and kicking your Vans off onto his plush blue rug. There’s already music pulsing through his office, though not a song you recognize from being on the playlist he’d made for you - Strangers by The Kinks.

“Feel free to make yourself at home,” Harry tells you, voice positively dripping in sarcasm, and you roll your eyes with a small smile.

Your phone is buzzing in your pocket and you pick it up, glancing at the text that came in - from Kaitlyn, your best friend, and you scan the what’s up?? that she’d sent you before tossing your phone onto the couch besides you. You’ll answer her later, maybe call her. Thinking of it, you hadn’t talked to her in a bit, but - you’ll call her later, yeah. Catch up.

“Figure I’m going to be here a while, professor. I’ve got an essay for my creative writing class due on -” you pause to think - “Friday and I’ve barely done the draft.”

He furrows his eyebrows as he looks at you, and you don’t even have to glance up at him to feel the slight air of disappointing wafting towards you. “Baby.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s Wednesday. You’ve got an essay due Friday and you haven’t started?”

You shrug, feeling heat flock to your cheeks as you bend to reach into your bag, tugging out your laptop that you, really, only use for essays. “I have started, but I’ve been a bit distracted, I guess.” The only thing you’ve been distracted by is him, truthfully, and he knows it.

For a moment there’s silence filling the air between you, only disturbed by the sounds of your fingers moving over your keyboard. You’ve suddenly felt quite inspired to get a move on with your essay, oddly, and you think that Harry may be the perfect cure to your procrastination habits.

“D’you want my help?” Harry asks, his voice oddly gentle. He’s never necessarily helped you with any homework before though he always asks if you need it, and usually you’d tell him you’re fine but - well, his feedback would be appreciated since you, admittedly, don’t have too much time before this dumb paper is due, so you nod quickly.

Then Harry stands from his spinning chair, letting it roll into the wall behind him and dropping his red pen on top of the essay he’d been grading. You barely have time to look up at him, straining his neck to look at what you have so far for your essay, and you roll your eyes playfully before turning the screen so he can read it.

His eyes move fast as he reads what you have so far, which isn’t enough for how long it takes him to examine your work. You take the time to admire him, the way he pokes his tongue out every so often to wet his lips (which, you’ve noticed, he seems to prefer over wearing lip balm) and the way his eyebrows furrow when he reads certain lines. Harry’s fingers drum against your computer, following the rhythm of the music, and after a minute he leans back on his heels and pushes your laptop away from him, fingers brushing against the soft skin of your stomach from where your shirt has ever-so-slightly ridden up.

You wait a moment for him to speak, and then ask, “Was it horrible? You look like it was horrible.”

Harry shakes his head, curls flopping back and forth (you’re reminded of the beginning of the year, when he used to gel his hair back, though it had grown quite a bit since that point, and you’re not sure gel could have its desired effect on his locks.) “It’s not horrible at all. It’s quite good, actually. Sometimes your sentence structure is a bit wonky, like -” he leans in, tugging your laptop back into his view, fingers dancing across your skin again in a way that you know isn’t accidental, and then he highlights a line smack in the middle of your draft - “here, and a few other spots. But it’s good.” You must do a poor job at concealing the relief on your face, because Harry glances at you and chuckles. “Don’t look so surprised. You’re a great writer. Best that’s ever come into my class, and I’m sure your creative writing professor agrees.”

You shake your head, turning your computer back around so it’s facing you. “I don’t think Professor Capone likes my writing too much. I’m barely scraping an A in her class, but maybe she’s just a tough grader.”

“Reckon she’s just a tough grader. I’ve heard that before.” Harry nods thoughtfully and you can’t help but giggle at the suddenly serious expression that takes over his face, as though whether Capone is a tough grader is akin to the meaning of life. His brows furrow and he glances down at you with a bemused smile. “What’re you laughing at?”

“M’not sure, really,” you tell him, grin spreading across your face. He watches you for a second and then leans down, lips hovering barely a centimeter above yours, and you let your lips touch for just a moment before pushing him away. “Now, c’mon professor, what happened to we shouldn’t do anything in the classroom?” The fact that you two had done just about everything but having truly fucked in this office goes unmentioned, of course.

His response is interrupted by the door opening slowly behind him - your eyes widen and he stands immediately, clearing his throat and backing up so he’s leaning against his desk, cheeks flushed red.

In the doorway is a girl you recognize from your class - Hannah Joseph, you think, and you also believe you’d graded her essay. You give her a small smile and she looks down at you, lying on the professor’s couch with your shoes off, with an air of distinct confusion.

“Miss Joseph.” Harry clears his throat, drumming his fingers against his desk. “What can I do for you, today?”

She pauses, glancing between the two of you with furrowed brows, and you bury yourself back into your essay. Everything about this situation feels wrong and you hate it, hate the energy flowing beside Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen. “Um - sorry if I’ve interrupted something.”

You squeeze your eyes shut at Hannah’s words - she can’t possibly know what the two of you had been doing but you still feel like she does, like she’d been watching you two. If Harry is as nervous as you are about the entire situation he certainly doesn’t show it, just grins at her and says, “Not interrupting anything! Just helping Y/N with her essay, here.”

It isn’t convincing and you can tell Hannah agrees, but she merely shakes her head and makes her way to the desk - Harry walks to the other side and plops in his chair and she takes a seat in the entirely uncomfortable one that you’d opted out of.

She has a question about the essay he’d assigned, naturally. There’s not quite any other reason she should be here but it doesn’t stop your worries. What if she told people she’d seen something suspicious in Professor Styles’ office when she went during his office hours?

You two had been stupid. He was right, you shouldn’t do anything in his office. It’s stupid.

By the time you’ve completed the second to last paragraph of your rough draft Hannah is pushing her chair back, bidding farewell to Harry and giving you a small wave as she leaves - you call goodbye as cheerfully as you can manage as she shuts the door firmly behind her, the noise reverberating through the small room.

There’s silence, at first.

And then Harry sighs, dropping his head into his hands, and you push yourself to sit up, your laptop shutting of its own accord. “Fuck.”

You swallow, glancing down at the light grey fabric of your sweatpants and pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “Yeah. Fuck.”

Born to Run changes into Livin’ Thing by ELO and you’re not sure of what to say, until finally Harry rests his chin on his palms and says, “We can’t take risks anymore, I think. That was really close.” Then he pauses and adds, “Even having you in my office for so long is suspicious. Maybe - maybe we shouldn’t, anymore.”

You nod. Not going to his office every day will certainly be a change, you suppose, even if it’s for the best. You love every moment you spend with him in the cramped office space. And though you know you’ll hate to not be able to kiss him in his office or anything of the sort you know it’s best - the absolute worst thing that could happen is someone walking in while you and Harry are truly in a compromising situation. “Yeah. We can just keep it at your apartment. Nothing wrong with that, now, is there?”

Harry gives a tight lipped grin and then hesitates. “Maybe it’s better too. I feel bad, sometimes. We spend so much time together - feel like I’m taking away your college experience.”

You furrow your eyebrows, leaning forward to rest your chin against the edge of his desk. “My college experience?”

“Y’know - partying and stuff. That’s most people’s favourite parts of college.”

You pause. You’d been to a few parties during the year but they’d never appealed to you much, and truthfully, you’d rather spend your time holed up in Harry’s office. “I’d rather be able to remember my college experience. I’m not quite a fan of parties. Much prefer this place.”

He sends you a small smile but you can tell something’s shifted in the room, and you give it a few more minutes of silence - besides the music - before sliding your laptop into your bag and standing up. You swing your bag over your shoulder and glance at him. “I’m gonna head back to my dorm, alright? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Harry looks up at you and nods, running a hand through his messy curls. “I’ll see you tomorrow, baby. Text me when you get to your dorm, okay?”

“Alright,” you tell him, and then you give him one final smile and you’re gone.

“How do Borachio and Don John decide to disrupt Hero and Claudio’s marriage?”

You pause, sipping thoughtfully on your spoonful of soup. Harry leans against the kitchen counter, watching as you think. “Borachio will convince Maragret to dress up in Hero’s clothes and then Borachio will fuck her on the balcony so Claudio will see.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, nodding subtly and scrolling through his phone for another brief moment. “And what becomes of Hero when Don John sets her up?”

“She dies.”

He nods again and then slides his phone into the pocket of his pajama pants, taking a step forward to where you’re seated on the counter. “You didn’t get a single question wrong, you know.”

You shrug, fighting off the smile that wants to appear on your lips. “Well, I’ve read it a lot, professor. Know that play inside and out, really.”

“Ah.” You open your legs so Harry can slot his body between them, resting his hands on your hips through the oversized sweater you’d bought from the thrift store years ago. “So why’d you want to come over, then? Clearly wasn’t to study, now was it.”

It’s not a question, but you still tilt your head thoughtfully to the side as if in deep thought. Truthfully, it had been a few days since the two of you abolished your time together in his office and it had drastically reduced the time you spent with him. He’s invited you over every night he got home early enough but to go from every day for hours to one or two on certain days is a change you don’t particularly enjoy, even if it’s necessary.

Hence, begging him to help you study. But you still shrug and say, “no, it was. No better person to help me study than my professor.”

“Mhm,” Harry twirls your hair around his finger, then pulls back, pressing his lips briefly to your forehead. “You know you don’t need an excuse to come over.”

You feign offense, sticking out your bottom lip. “Wasn’t an excuse to -”

“I’m not saying it was,” he grins and you cross your arms, smiling softly. “But I just want you to know. You can come here whenever. M’always happy to have you here.”

Internally, your heart melts - but before you can respond you can hear the telltale noise of your phone ringing from where you’d tossed it on the couch earlier when you’d arrived. You groan, dropping your head back against the cabinet before pushing yourself off the counter, padding into the living room. Marie sits, curled up on top of the couch, and you brush your fingers down her back as you glance at whoever’s calling you.

It’s Kaitlyn, and you wince - you’d told yourself you would call her nearly ten times this week but you’d gotten too distracted. By Harry, mainly, but also your essay and the rest of your schoolwork, and you’re tempted to ignore this one too in favor of your professor in the kitchen but instead you press accept and bring the phone to your ear.

“Hey, Kaity,” you say, and hearing her small hey on the other end brings a smile to your face. “What’s up?”

“Well, Dylan and I are going to dinner in like, an hour. D’you want to meet us there? I feel like we haven’t talked - all three of us - in forever.”

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking for a moment. You’d barely been at Harry’s for half an hour but you haven’t seen - or even talked to - your friends in weeks. So you clear your throat and brighten your voice and say, “Sure!”

You can see Harry poke his head out of the kitchen, raising his eyebrows at you, and you bite back a laugh at the site. On the other end, Kaitlyn says, “Cool. See you there, then, and don’t be late, please -” and you say, “Got it,” before hanging up and dropping your phone against the couch.

“Who was that?” Harry asks as you return to the kitchen, his arms wrapping around your smaller frame as he tugs his body to yours.

“My friend, Kaitlyn. I don’t think you know her - she’s a chemistry major.” You wrap your arm around his neck, letting him embrace you before saying, muffled against where your face is buried in his neck, “I’m gonna have to head out soon. Promised I’d meet them at dinner in an hour, and it’s not too short a walk to the cafeteria. But I’ll probably come over after dinner, if that’s okay.”

Harry nods, and when he speaks again you can hear the teasing lilt in his voice. “M’glad you’re going to see your friends,” he tells you, and you smile. “But if you’re gonna leave soon … I guess we better make the most of our time, right?” And you don’t respond before crashing your lips to his.

“I have a question.”

You glance up at your friends, chewing slowly on your bite of noodles. It’s the first time you’ve seen them in - admittedly - a while, nearly three weeks. And it’s a drastic difference when you and them had spent nearly every waking minute together before you’d started seeing Harry, but you didn’t think they’d even notice. After all, Kaitlyn and Dylan had started dating recently, too, and you figured you would give them time off from your third-wheeling.

Well - no, you didn’t figure that. They never gave you an indication that they were bothered by your being there with them, but it was a better excuse than I’ve been fucking my professor, and I haven’t really been thinking of much besides that.

“Yeah?” you tilt your head at Dylan, grabbing your lemonade from the table and taking a sip.

Kaitlyn drops her fork from where she’s been picking at her salad, and then asks, “Well - we’ve kind of been wondering where you’ve been. We haven’t seen you in so long and your roommate said you’re barely there anymore, anyway.”

You raise your eyebrows, squinting at the pair of them in front of you. “You asked my roommate?”

“Well, yeah.” Dylan glances at Kaitlyn and then back at you, and this is beginning to feel like a bit of an intervention. “We didn’t know if you were just mad at us or something.”

“S’not like she’s at our room much, anyway. Always at her boyfriend’s. Nick’s, I think.” You twist more noodles around your fork, making sure to lather them in the slightly-chunky but still edible pasta sauce that the cafeteria had made for today. “I’ve been at my room loads.”

It’s not necessarily the truth but you wouldn’t call it a lie, either. Since you’d stopped going to Harry’s office you’d been spending more time at your room and your roommate had been there more, too - it was curious, since she never used to spend any time there, and you’d started to get to know her a bit, too.

“Her and Nick broke up,” Kaitlyn says, leaning in and taking a bite of her salad. “But - I don’t know. It’s weird. I mean, all of a sudden we never heard from you.” You don’t respond, staring down at your noodles, and she leans closer towards you, “But then - um.”

You glance up. “What?”

“Well - Hannah Joseph said you’ve been spending a lot of time with Professor Styles,” Dylan reveals, drumming his fingers against the lunch table. Your heart drops at his words and you rest your fork against your plate, the utensil still wrapped in noodles. “And there’ve been a lot of rumours.”

With every single word this entire conversation keeps getting worse, and you take in a gulp of lemonade to try and distract yourself. When you’ve swallowed you look up and try to feign disinterest. “What kind of rumours?” you ask, and you’re not quite sure whether your nonchalant facade towards the entire situation is working.

Dylan leans back in his chair, making eye contact with Kaitlyn again - you hate when they do that, especially right now. You feel like they’re having some sort of conversation you’re not allowed to know, that they’re keeping secrets from you and you’re not supposed to do that. They’re your best friends.

(But you’re keeping the biggest secret of all, and you know you’ll never tell them.)

After a moment, Dylan finally says, “Well, when Hannah was telling us about you being in Professor Styles’ office all the time, Alana Williams told us that she walked in on you guys in his office, like, two weeks ago. And you were really flustered and left, like, the second she came in, and he was really awkward about it the entire time.”

Fuck. You’d forgotten about Alana, walking in on you two immediately after you’d kissed for the first time. You know the answer you’re going to get, but you furrow your brows and ask again, “But what was the rumour, then?”

“That you’re sleeping with him.”

Yeah, you expected that. And it’s not like it’s wrong but hearing the words from Kaitlyn’s lips make you feel embarrassed and all of a sudden you want to run out of the cafeteria screaming, run to your dorm and never talk to anyone again. Because if Hannah and Alana told Kaitlyn and Dylan about you being in his office all the time, who else did they tell?

You breathe out a laugh, hoping to God that you sound amused by the entire thing and not absolutely terrified. There’s no foreseeable way you can salvage this and you can’t think of any sort of excuse for your weeks-long absence from your friends because they already mentioned the truth and you can’t tell them that. They’re your best friends and you should tell them the truth, the way they’ve always told you the truth about everything, but there’s no way you can do that now.

You cross your arms over your chest, eyes peeking left and right as though you’ll catch someone watching you, wondering if you really are sleeping with your professor. As if you’ll yell it out. “That’s stupid,” you tell them, and the way their shoulders ever so slightly drop in relief makes you want to scream. “I’m not sleeping with Professor Styles. I’ve just been busy. Overloaded with schoolwork, right now.”

It’s impossible to tell if they believe it, but you roll your eyes and continue anyway. “But I have missed you guys a lot, and I’m sorry for - um - ignoring you. That was fucked up.”

(In the back of your mind, you’re reminded of the way you’d told Harry you’d return to his apartment after dinner. You hadn’t promised but you’d never failed to go to his apartment when you’d said you would. There is a first time for everything, you suppose, so you give them a bright grin that you aren’t feeling at all and lean in. “Speaking of which, what can we do tonight? I’m all yours, I swear. Won’t even think about my assignments.”

The smiles that spread across their faces like wildfire makes you feel ever so guilty - guilty at the fact that, although you do miss them, your heart aches at the fact that you’re leaving Harry high and dry. Well, he’ll live, you know. Probably spend the night watching television with Marie, and you’ll see him tomorrow.

“I’m going to guess you don’t want to go a party, right?” Kaitlyn asks, a grin playing at her lips. They’ve tried to drag you to parties for so long and you hate them, hate everything about them, but -

Right now a party sounds perfect. Perfect to forget about how, apparently, everyone on campus thinks you’re fucking your professor and perfect to extinguish every one of those rumours. So to Dylan and Kaitlyn’s surprise and, truthfully, your own, you lean back in your chair with a bright grin. “I’d love to go to a party! Where’s it at?”

Within ten minutes of being at said party, you regret it quite a bit.

The dress Kaitlyn had picked out of your closet is two years old and certainly doesn’t fit correctly - you can’t remember buying it, honestly, and every couple of minutes you have to tug the top up to cover your tits. You don’t like the way guys are looking at you and more specifically down your shirt, and they look at Kaitlyn too - but perhaps she’s more used to it from going to frat parties more often, because it doesn’t seem to bother her nearly as much as it pisses you off.

Dylan brought you a drink immediately and you took one sip and hated it. You hate everything about being here but you paste a grin on your face, jumping into pictures with people you barely know, and you’re sure if there was ever someone who looked less like the type to sleep with their professor, it’s you right now.

Which is what you were going for. And, if you wanted to take it all the way, you would let one of these frat guys pin you up against the wall and kiss you until you’re breathless, but you can’t do that to Harry. Even if you’re not official - not truly together - the thought of your lips pressed against any that don’t belong to Harry is disgusting. You sent him a text while you were getting dressed, telling him something came up and i can’t come over:(( sorry and he didn’t seem to mind much, merely replying, Sounds good. See you soon. And now, as you stand in a cloud of marijauna, leaning against the wall and periodically pretending to drink from your cup, you realize you’d much rather be holed up in his apartment than here.

Dylan and Kaitlyn are having fun, though, dancing entirely too close on the dance floor. They did this at parties before they started dating, too, bodies pressed close to each other, and you always wondered why they never just came out and got together. The difference between then and now is that, before, Kaitlyn would always drag you out with them at some point, making sure you’re included.

You don’t reckon that’s going to happen now.

So you push yourself off the wall, clutching your phone and your cup in one hand and using the other to brush Dylan on the back as you push past them - you can hardly hear Kaitlyn calling, “Where’re you going?” as you make your way through a crowd of people. When you’ve finally found your way to the edges of the party you can spot an open door leading out to the deck, and you decide that’s where you want to be, so you push yourself through the door and to the violently bitter cold.

It’s a decision you almost regret but there’s so few people outside - two frat boys, one of them who you recognize from your creative writing class, and a girl sitting, half asleep, on the ground. In some odd way you feel like you fit in with the people out here, so you lean against the house and look at your phone again.

Harry hasn’t texted you again and you’re not sure why you thought he would - there wasn’t much to say on his behalf. In the back of your mind you’re entirely too aware that standing outside by yourself like a loner makes you look even more the part of girl-who-fucked-her-teacher but you can’t force yourself to be in there.

“Hey.”

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by a voice from next to you, and you look up to see the boy from your creative writing class, leaning on the wall beside you. His friend has gone, probably back inside, and the girl sitting on the ground looks completely gone now. It’s just you and him, this guy you’ve hardly spoken to ever, but you turn to face him anyway.

“Hey,” you say, voice coming out in a soft puff of air, white in the nighttime air. “S’Jacob, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Jacob nods, blonde hair flopping in front of his eyes, and it reminds you, in some sort of way, of the uncontrollable nature of Harry’s hair. “Aren’t you in my writing class or something?”

You nod, brushing your hair out of your face and glancing down at the cup in your hand. It’s still as full as when you got it, even with all the pretend sips you’d been taking. “Yeah, I am.”

Jacob’s head falls back against the house and says, “Knew I recognized a pretty face like yours.” You exhale, rolling your eyes, and he furrows his eyebrows. “What? M’serious. I’ve always thought you were quite cute.”

“Thanks, I suppose.” You look up at him with an amused smile. “You’re - um. You’re cute too,” which isn’t exactly a lie. He’s not horrible but perhaps being with Harry has skewed your perception of all guys in your year - they’ll never be as lovely as him.

“Well, thank you,” Jacob replies, and you’re not sure what to say now - just lift your drink to your mouth and pretend to take a drink of it. It seems like in the blink of an eye he’s moved closer to you - standing half beside you and half in front, and you pull your cup closer to your body. He’s barely half a foot away from you and his face is even closer, and he smells like cheap beer and mint gum.

You drop your head back against the wall, raising your eyebrows. “What’re you doing?” you ask, confusion and yet complete understanding dripping from your words.

Jacob shrugs, leaning in until his lips are entirely too close to your ear and you can feel his breath, warm against your skin and you can smell him even stronger, now. “Just relax, alright? S’okay.”

You can’t relax though, and all you can think about is how different and terrible this is compared to how amazing Harry makes you feel, and you shake your head vehemently. “Jacob, I’m sorry, alright? You’re really nice and all, but -”

“D’you have a boyfriend?” Jacob asks, then, pulling himself away from you.

“Not really,” you tell him, which is the truth. You and Harry aren’t - technically dating but you still couldn’t hook up with this frat boy if you tried. You’re as good as dating him and the thought of doing it to him makes you sick to your stomach. “But I’m just not interested.”

There’s a pause, then. Jacob takes a step back, looking at you with his brows furrowed and his face looking oddly flushed. There are goosebumps covering your skin and you suddenly want to go back inside but then he’s talking again - “I think I know what this is about.”

You must wear the confusion you’re feeling, because he continues. “Can you be honest with me? Like, really honest.”

You hadn’t thought he was too drunk before but he certainly is starting to seem just a bit drunker than you’d anticipated. You furrow your eyebrows, lips upturning. “Sure.”

Then Jacob takes another step forward so you’re just as close as you’d been before and leans in again, dropping his voice so low you can hardly hear it. “Is it true you’re boning Professor Styles?”

The words take a moment to sink in. Is it true … Professor Styles? And when they’re finally there, embedded inside of your brain, you exhale a shaky laugh. It’s all you can bring yourself to do, resting your head back against the house. “Are you serious?”

You look at him again and he nods, shrugging slightly.

“I’m not - I’m not boning Professor Styles.” The lie tastes bitter on your tongue but you force it to sound normal anyway. “And I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Jacob rolls his eyes until you can merely see a white stripe in them. You can feel yourself getting - angrier? Sadder? More annoyed? - by the moment. And you hate that some dumb frat boy can make you feel so horrible but he’s doing it now, even if he probably doesn’t realize it. He steps back again, running a hand through his floppy hair. “Alright, alright. So you’re not fucking your professor and you don’t have a boyfriend. What, exactly, is holding you back, then?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling heat soar to your cheeks even in the bitter chill of the night. “Can you give it a fucking rest, Jacob?”

He whistles and you’re pushing yourself off the wall, already beginning to slide open the door to go back inside when Jacob begins, “Don’t be such a bitch about it -”

There’s only a brief second of hesitation on your part - turning around and using the hand that isn’t clutching your cup and your phone you press it to his chest and push as hard as you can. The force of it sends your phone flying out of your hand and hurtling down to the deck and you watch it fall down with a moment of brief regret - you can hear the glass shattering and you know it’ll be a bitch to repair. And you drink splashes up, spilling onto your chest and your dress and it smells repulsive. But Jacob (who you suspect is drunker than you originally thought) stumbles away from you and it makes both things worth it.

You can feel tears beginning to sting your eyes as Jacob straightens up, and before he can say anything else you bend down, picking your phone off of the deck and racing back into the house. You slide the door shut behind you and you can feel it open only a second later but you’ve already gone, pushing your way through the crowd, looking for both the way out and someone with a phone that doesn’t have a screen smashed to bits.

Kaitlyn and Dylan are pressed against the wall and you hate to interrupt the way they’re kissing desperately, hands all over each other, but you reach out and tap her shoulder anyway. Because, truthfully, you don’t actually care that much.

You shout above the music that you need to borrow her phone and she doesn’t hesitate to fish it out of her bra, handing it over to you with an incredibly wide grin - her telltale drunk grin - and you grab it in your hand, your broken phone in your other, and open up the phone app.

You have his number memorized from spending so long studying it once he’d given it to you that it’s easy to type it into the keypad - when the line is ringing you realize it’s entirely too loud in the thick of the party so you turn and walk out the front door and onto the front steps, leaning against the railing.

The line clicks and you’ve never been so grateful for such a small noise. “Hello?” the voice on the other end says, raspy like it always is when he’s just woken up (and you hate to think that you’ve woken him from a nap) and you could cry at the sound of it.

“Harry.” you swallow, eyes darting back and forth to see if there’s anyone near you - but everyone seems to be inside, enjoying the party, and you just can’t. “Harry, hi.”

“Hey, baby,” he says, and his voice seems to brighten at the sound of yours. “What’s going on? Whose phone is this?”

“Um -” you bring your thumb up to your mouth, nibbling on your nail before dropping your hand back down to your thigh. “It’s a long story. Can you pick me up? I’m sorry, I just - um. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be a pain. You don’t have to if you’re too tired because you sound like you just woke up but I really want to be with you right now.”

You look - standing outside of a party, fighting back tears that are burning in your eyes calling your professor, of all people - the exact type of girl who would fuck her professor, but oddly enough, you don’t really think you care anymore. All you want to do is to feel Harry’s arms wrapped around you, making you feel better, and you never should have come to this stupid party in the first place. It was a mistake.

“Are you alright?” Harry asks, and you can picture him getting out of bed already, tugging on a pair of joggers - the pink ones he wears all the time - and sliding on his sneakers. “Uh - where are you?”

That you’re not quite sure of. You glance around but you can’t make much out in the dark - there’s a sign at the end of the street and you squint to try and make it out. “Barry, I think. Avenue? I’m not sure. I think it says Barry, though.”

“Okay,” Harry says. “I know where you are, and I’m gonna be there in five minutes, alright? Just stay where you are.”

You breathe out a small okay, and then the line clicks and he’s gone, and you pull the phone away to stare at it for just a moment. Then you go and delete the call from Kaitlyn’s history - wouldn’t want her calling it on accident - and dart back inside. She’s still wrapped around Dylan but you give it to her anyway, watching her stuff the device back into her bra. And you take a moment to bid your friends goodbye - wrapping them in a hug even if you know they’d rather be making out with each other than hugging you - and you head back out the door, sitting down on the front steps and letting the door slam behind you.

Your phone sits beside you in all its broken glory. Your mind is reeling and you can’t think straight - all you want is to be with Harry, forget about the assholes who think (or know) that you’re sleeping with him. Because - well, you are, you suppose. But there’s so much more, stuff they’ll never know, stuff they can’t know.

Just as your teeth start chattering in the cold you can see a familiar car pull up in front of the house. You can see his figure in the drivers seat, a hood pulled up tight over his hair, and you jump up, grabbing your phone and bounding towards the car. You’ve never been so happy to see him in your life - opening the door and ducking into the passenger’s seat, dropping your shattered phone on the center console between you. The warmth of his car is nearly suffocating but you love it, prefer it so much over the cold that’s been so prevalent for so long.

“Hey,” Harry says, voice soft, as if he can tell you’ve had a shitty day. (Which he probably can, truthfully.) “What happened to your phone?”

“I dropped it,” you tell him, taking another glance down at the phone you’ve had for four years that could survive falls from your pockets, bed and accidentally getting stepped on by Dylan but couldn’t make it through a simple fall onto the deck of a frat house. Serves you right for going to the dumb party anyway. “Can I go to your apartment? Just really don’t want to be alone. I had - a really shitty day.”

He nods and then you’re gone, taking off down the street. “D’you want to tell me about it, then?”

You sigh, leaning back against the headrest. You take a moment to listen to the music, playing so silently you can hardly hear - but it’s Just The Way You Are, by Billy Joel, and it’s from your playlist. “Just - um. A lot of people, apparently, think we’re sleeping together and then I was talking to this - this guy named Jacob and he was being a dick about it because I wouldn’t fuck him and then - then I pushed him and I dropped my phone and it broke.” Your voice cracks and you can feel the tears that had been residing behind your eyes finally beginning to spill over, and you bring your wrist up to wipe the tear that had begun to streak down your cheek. “M’sorry. Seems silly, now.”

“It’s not silly.” Harry’s voice is firm and you look over at him, sniffling slightly. When you’ve stopped at a red light he turns towards you, bringing his thumb up to wipe away another tear that had trickled down to your nose. “I’m sorry. People can be dicks sometimes.”

You inhale shakily. “Yeah.” For a split second there’s silence and then you say, “I don’t even know why I went to a stupid party. I hate them and I hated this one too but -” you stop to think. “I wanted people to think I wasn’t the type of person to fuck my professor. Which is silly, I guess, because I am the type of person to fuck my professor.”

“Can you look at me?” he asks, and you do, making eye contact with him briefly before he looks back at the road. “S’all gonna be alright, you know that? Nobody is gonna know. No one’s gonna find out - they’re all just guessing now.”

“I feel like they know.” you sniffle again, blinking away more tears that had come to the surface of your eyes. “And I know they can’t but I feel like they do.”

Harry pulls into the parking lot behind his building, then, and you unbuckle your seatbelt with shaking hands and grab your phone from the center console, pushing yourself out of the car and into the air again. The two of you walk in silence to the doors and then he presses the button of the elevator to go up and looks at you again.

“Baby,” Harry says, and you nod slowly. “What do you want to do?”

You pause. “What do I want to do?”

Then he grabs your hand as the elevator opens and you step in together, pressing the button for the third floor. “I don’t want you to stress about getting caught,” he responds, voice dropping to hardly above a whisper. “We’re going to be okay, I promise. As long as we keep things off campus we’re fine.”

You nod, glancing down at your scuffed heels with a sniff. “I know.”

The elevator dings again and you step out of it, your hand still in his as he walks down the hall to his apartment. While he digs in his pocket for his key, you tell him, “If you’re asking me whether I want to stop this, the answer is no.”

Harry glances up at you, key in the door, with a raised eyebrow.

You continue, shaking your head. “I like you a lot, Harry. A lot. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before in my life and I don’t want stupid fucking frat boys to take you away from me.” The two of you step into his apartment and he flicks on the lights, leaning against the door as you continue. “Don’t think I’d ever forgive myself if the most amazing man in the entire world slipped between my fingers because I was afraid.”

You take a step towards him, and then he wraps his arms around you and it’s what you’d needed all bloody day, just to feel his hug. You burrow your head into his chest and he presses his lips to the top of your hair, his voice coming out muffled by your hair when he speaks again. “I’m afraid too, baby. But I like you a lot too. More than anyone I’ve ever known.” Then he grabs your cheeks, pulling your head away from his so he can stare you right in the eyes - you swear his are mesmerizing. “I think I love you, actually.”

Love.

He loves you.

The thought bounces around your brain and it’s all you can think of - Professor Styles, telling you he loves you in his apartment, his warm hands pressed to your cheeks. And you hadn’t been sure, until now, whether you did love him. You’d never exactly felt that sort of love for anyone before because none of your relationships had ever lasted too long. But hearing him and seeing him now is making your brain churn out a thousand thoughts per minute and the most apparent one is that you love him too.

So much.

So you exhale, a smile quirking your lips upwards, as you reach up to press your hands to his face, too. You can see him fighting back the urge to grin and you could cry again but you swallow the urge and breathe out, “I love you, too.”

And you lean up on your toes, pressing a kiss to his lips and barely hearing the way he mutters back, “I love you so much,” because you couldn’t pull your lips from his if you tried. His hands drop to your back, pressing against the small of it as he leads you farther into his apartment. Your lips never detach and it’s difficult not to trip over your own feet but eventually you’re being pushed onto a distinctly soft surface, and one glance to your right shows you that it’s not his bed but the couch in his living room.

“Sorry, Marie,” Harry says, and you push yourself onto your elbows as you watch Harry pick up Marie from her spot on top of the couch and deposit her to the floor. “Don’t want you to see this. Just shoo for a little while.”

You roll your eyes as Harry looks down at you, one leg propped on the couch and the other firm on the ground. “You’re ridiculous, professor,” you tell him, and he throws an arm over the back of the couch, lowering his body onto yours until you can push your head up and mesh your lips with his. His hand goes beneath your head as he lowers you back down onto the couch. “But I still love you.”

When Harry pulls away his cheeks are a light shade of pink and you feel quite honored to be the person to make him blush - your professor, so professional in front of the classroom and blushing like a schoolgirl above you. You bring your hand up to his hair, twisting your fingers in his curls to bring his head back down but he doesn’t go for your lips, instead lowering his mouth to your throat, pressing hickeys to the column of your neck.

“You smell like beer, y’know that?” Harry tells you, and you can feel the smile on his lips as he trails kisses down to your collarbone. His hand works at tugging the top of your dress down, reaching in to pull your tits out where they’re already practically spilling out of it.

“Spilled a bit on myself at the party,” you breathe as he lowers his mouth onto your nipple, his hand massaging your other breast. “Wasn’t good beer, though. Could tell it was cheap. I couldn’t drink more than a sip - fuck.”

Harry pulls back from your nipple and blows on it gently, the sensation sending shivers up your spine and you moan softly. Your hips buck up into his and he groans against your chest. “God, baby. I love your tits, did you know that? Could play with them all day.” As if to prove a point he leans down again, dragging his teeth against your nipple and reveling in the way you whine.

“I’d be fine with that,” you inform him, voice cracking in the middle of the sentence as his hand trails down your body to the bottom of your dress, pulling it up over the tops of your thighs. Then his fingers brush over the damp spot in your panties, pressing against your clit through the thin fabric. “Oh, god -”

“Does that feel good, baby?” he asks, voice soft and he already knows the answer, of course, but you drop your head back against the couch with a nod anyway. “Wanna hear your words.”

“Feels so good, p - professor,” you moan, feeling his digits finally dip beneath the hem of your panties, running over your folds without the lace barrier. “Please, Harry, need more …”

You’ve learned, by now, his affinity for hearing you tell him exactly what you want. So before you can hear his smug response of what do you need you swallow and tell him, “Want you to eat me out. Please, professor.”

He drops his head against your chest, moaning lowly, and you can feel his dick growing harder against your thigh. “Fuck. Okay.” He licks a line from your chest up to your collarbone and you wonder if he can taste the gross beer still tainting your skin but - if he does - he doesn’t show it. Acts like he’d just enjoyed the best feast of his life as he glances back up at you, eyes dark. His fingers hook in your panties, dragging them down your legs and dropping them, soaked in your arousal, onto the floor. “Gonna take you to my room, yeah?”

You nod eagerly as he stands above you, and you swing your legs over the edge of the couch, pushing yourself up, and you let Harry intertwine your fingers, leading you across his apartment to the door of his bedroom. When he’s shut the door (shooing Marie away again, who’d followed you in an attempt to enter his room) he tugs his hoodie over his head - his phone flies out of the pocket and lands on the carpet, his hoodie heading towards another corner. Then Harry collapses into the middle of his bed, lying on his back, glancing at you expectantly. His joggers slide ever so slightly down his hips and you watch their descent before flickering your eyes back to him.

You furrow your eyebrows. “Not gonna eat me out then, professor?”

Harry shakes his head. “Never sat on anyone’s face before, I reckon?”

No. Of course you haven’t. Your mouth drops open in a silent ‘o’ and you raise your eyebrows, shaking your head vehemently. He motions you to come over to him and you take a moment to kick off your heels, leaving them in a pile by the door before making your way over to the bed, standing beside him.

“I think you’ll like it,” Harry tells you, and wraps his fingers around your wrist in a loose hold, and you take the cue to mount the bed, kneeling beside him, and his fingers drum against your thigh. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. If you don’t, I’ll just do it the old fashioned way. No harm done.”

You nod, swallowing. Any question you have dies on your tongue because you trust him, you know, and you know he wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable.

What’s the harm in trying?

“Alright, then.” He reaches behind him, stuffing a pillow beneath his head. His hand on your wrist drops to your hand, pressing your palms together, and you give him a small smile before adjusting yourself so your thighs are on either side of his head - it’s about as awkward as you’d anticipated, your dress still half covering your arse, and Harry reaches up to pull it up, letting it rest around your hips. His fingertips trail down your thighs - a silent don’t worry and appreciate it. Slowly you lower yourself down onto his mouth, and when you’ve completely settled - your hands resting on his bare abdomen as you lean forward slightly.

You expect to feel his tongue on you immediately but then he pauses, and when he talks you can feel his mouth moving against your cunt. “Siri! Shuffle y/n songs on Spotify!”

You almost roll your eyes when his phone, still on the floor from where it had landed earlier, begins playing Good Vibrations - of course, he can’t do anything without music - but before you can give some sort of snarky remark his tongue is darting up to your clit, flicking the bud gently, and you cry out almost louder than the music.

“Oh, shit, Harry!” you groan, fingertips digging into his stomach as his hands go to your bum, kneading the globes of your ass as his mouth practically attacks your pussy. It’s so much more intense than how it is usually - the Beach Boys in the background, your hips rocking slowly against his face, his soft groans against your core sending vibrations through your body.

Good vibrations, of course.

“Feels so fucking good,” you breathe, dragging your hands further down his stomach. His joggers - the pink ones - are tied loosely and your fingers wrap around the ties, tugging slightly as Harry pushes his tongue inside of you. You can see his dick - thick and looking painfully hard, even through the fabric. Your instinct is to grab his hair but it’s harder in this position so you tug, again, at the tie of his sweatpants until it comes completely undone.

He pauses, momentarily, perhaps wondering what you’re doing - and you don’t even quite know - but soon he resumes his relentless assault on your clit, lips wrapping around the nub and sucking. You cry out, your palm pressed to his stomach and trailing down to the hem of his sweatpants, and when your hand wraps firmly around Harry’s cock he practically yelps into your cunt.

“Jesus, fuck,” you can hear him, muttering against your heat as you pull his sweatpants down further until you can see his cock. Sure enough, he’s hard and heavy in your hand as you shimmy your body ever so slightly forward, causing him to hook his arms around your thighs to keep you close to his face. You crane your neck forward, pumping your hand up and down his cock as you lean forward, wrapping your lips around the tip of his dick, and he moans. It mixes oddly well with the tail end of Good Vibrations as it switches to Sugar Sugar.

The sound rolls through your body and you whimper, lowering your head onto his cock until his length is nearly completely down your throat - you’ve gotten better at fitting him in completely, and you breathe through your nose, counting 1 … 2 … 3 until you hit 10, and then you pull your mouth off of him.

Harry’s nose nudges your clit and your walls tighten around his tongue as he thrusts it in and out of your cunt - you’re so close and you can tell, and you lick up the vein on his cock. He grunts softly, fingernails digging into your ass, and when his tongue flicks over your clit again you cry out, throwing your head back and pumping his cock with your hand.

Your orgasm hits you like a wave and Harry laps up every drop that he can, smoothing his hands over your bum and thighs as you roll your hips against his mouth, riding yourself through his orgasm as you release your grasp on his cock, digging your nails into his stomach as you moan out.

When every reverberation of your orgasm still pulsing through you, you collapse onto his body - then you roll off of him, still feeling the throbbing in your clit as Harry pushes himself onto his elbows, glancing down at you.

“How was that?” he asks, sitting up fully, trailing his fingers up your arm. “First time facesitting. And 69ing, too - it’s a season of firsts.”

You grin lazily at him. “S’that a line from December, 1963?”

He nods, a smile painting his face.

“It was amazing. Of course. It’s always amazing - God, I love you so much,” you tell him, reaching your hand up to rest against his face, and he presses a soft kiss against your wrist. “But…”

“What?”

“I really want you to fuck me.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, and you feel your cheeks burn. His hand tugs at the end of your dress, bunched around your hips. “I really want to fuck you, too.” You sit up, raising your arms so he can pull your dress over your head - you’re left in merely your bra and you reach behind yourself, undoing the clasp and tossing it off the bed. When you’ve lied back down on the bed he takes a minute to stare down at you, and you feel a sudden instinct to cover yourself up - but then he merely says, “You’re so beautiful. I love you -” and he leans down to kiss you, his hands working at pulling his joggers down his legs - “so damn much.”

He takes a moment, dropping his pants to his ankles, to lower his head to your cunt again - tongue lapping briefly at your clit, smirking at the way you jump. Then he pulls his head back and you watch him, propped on your elbows, as he spits, and it lands on your clit and makes you squeal, your stomach flipping. God, you didn’t think you’d love that so much but you want him to do it again and again - something about it is so fucking hot. But he just brings his fingers to your folds, spreading his spit through your already slick pussy, flashing you another smug smirk before leaning back over you.

You loop your arms around his neck, feeling the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance. You’re so wet you’re practically dripping and there’s positively no barrier as he sheathes himself inside of you - you toss your head back with a moan. The first push inside of you is always the best and you take a moment to savor it as Harry grips your thigh, hooking your leg around his waist. And when he pulls out and thrusts back in he brushes that perfect spot inside of you, and you cry out.

Your heel presses into his arse, pushing his body further into yours. Your chests press together, his arm braced over your head as he groans lowly, eyes squeezed shut, and you bring your hand up to his face like he’s done so many times - “Look at me, profess - fuck!”

He does look at you, pupils wide and making his normally green eyes appear just about completely black. Harry’s hand presses to your clit, rubbing fast hard circles as his cock brushes against your g-spot with every thrust inside of you and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his head into your shoulder, hips rocking into his. You’re already embarrassingly close and with just the right brush against your clit you know you could be cumming already to the sound of I’m a Believer by the Monkees, and it would be heaven.

Like it always is.

Harry’s still muttering into your neck, teeth brushing against your skin as he sends wet, open mouthed kisses across your throat - “So tight, squeezing me so good. God, Iloveyousomuch -”

Your nails drag against his back, your hips pushing up to meet his thrusts, his fingers still working at your clit. You wrap your leg tighter around his waist, burying your head back into the covers with a loud cry and then you’re cumming, walls fluttering around him as his thrusts grew even more unrelentless. You’re not sure you’ve ever cum so fast in your life but you were already so close before you even started and he pulls his head up, slamming your lips together as you ride out your second orgasm with him.

“Think you - fuck - got one more in there for me?” His voice is a hiss through gritted teeth as he straightens up, fucking you harder than ever before on his knees, fingers still plucking at your clit. Your leg drops from around his waist and he grabs your calf, stretching your leg onto his shoulder, and the burn makes everything feel that much better. “Gonna cum again for your professor? I think you can.”

Your hand goes down to his wrist, fingers wrapping around him - it’s too much too fast you’ve just cum you can’t - but you know you can and he does too. And you can tell he’s close - the way he’s losing rhythm, his hips losing the steady pace he’d developed. You drop your hand to your chest, tweaking your nipple between your fingers.

“Fuck, Harry - m’gonna cum - God -” you can’t manage to get out any full sentences, mere fragments, your eyes never leaving Harry’s as you clench around you again. Your third orgasm is the most intense of all, feeling his fingers pinch your clit, his thrusts slowing so they hit every sweet spot inside of you, and you couldn’t have held back if you tried.

His neighbors must think you’re being murdered with the way you scream - the duvet firm in your grasp, your eyes rolling back into your head as you practically spasm beneath him. Harry’s movements slow to a jerky, staccato pace - you can feel him, cumming inside of you, and when you look at him his face is bright red, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open in a soft o.

“Fuck, fuck -” he breathes, hand on your clit dropping to the mattress, and your leg slides off of his shoulder and back onto the bed. You’re fucking exhausted as he pulls out, dropping onto the bed beside you, but not too tired to curl yourself into his arms, your face burning hot and your breathing laboured.

There’s a moment where nothing needs to be said. There’s nothing that you could say that could make this moment any better than it is so you hold your tongue, intent on merely falling asleep with him until he mumbles, “Baby?”

“Hmm?”

He pauses, and you open your eyes, turning your head to glance at him. His eyes are shut as well and you could almost fool yourself into thinking he’d never spoken at all until he finally says, “I love you so much.” You don’t have time to say it back before he’s continuing - “And I think you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met in my life.”

You can feel the beginnings of tears in your eyes - whether it’s the post-orgasm haze and exhaustion overtaking you or just pure love for the man beside you, you’re not sure. “Harry -”

“And, um.” His eyes are still shut and his brows are slightly furrowed as he speaks. “I know we’re kind of already dating but I want to make it official. So … would you like to be my girlfriend?” And then his eyes open, his head turning to look at you, to watch the smile that turns your lips upward.

You tug your bottom lip between your bottom teeth to try and suppress your grin but it doesn’t work - you could never stop yourself from feeling so fucking happy. And you bring your hand to his cheek, brushing a sweaty curl off his face, before breathing, “Of course.”

He leans in, then, kissing you sweetly and - for just a moment - you can forget about everything other than him. Forget about class on Monday, about the people who think you’re sleeping with him. And they’re right, for some of it - but not all. They’ll never really know what you have.

For a moment, all that exists is you and him, wrapped up in each other, bodies curled together and lips pressed gently. And even when the moment passes, and you bury your head into his shoulder, you can’t help but wait for the next to come.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #professor harry styles #definitely dont like this as much as the first part !!! sorry fellas #but i hope you all enjoy #also tried to include some pussy spitting..... for u anon #plot was a lot harder to come up with but i hope it flows and that u like it ok ok goodbye #enjoy #prof!harry

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remmushound · 3 years

Note

2012 casey being friends with 2018 donnie. Just think about it, please.

@assanmaharielsreblogs Casey poked his nose into Donatello’s lab to sneak a peek at the dorky turtle. At least, the turtle was dorky in his world. Here, he didn't know what the turtle was like. All he knew was that April seemed to have some sort of obsession with this Donatello (probably because of the eyebrows) and that couldn’t stand! Not while he was around and had been trying to woo April for years! He wasn’t going to lose her to a mutant turtle from another world, of all things!

“HEY!” Casey puffed out his chest and stomped into the room with a cocky bravery.

Donatello didn't look up from his screen, his three-fingered hands working a mile a minute on codes Casey didn't bother trying to decipher. “Hello, genderbent Cass who doesn’t live here nor sleep in this room.”

“I…” Casey was at a loss for a moment, an exhale making the exaggerated size of his chest fall back to normal as the cogs in his brain stuttered. “I have something to say to you, mister—!”

He walked up to Donatello and pointed an accusatory finger in his direction, but when Donatello stood up, the young human quickly flinched away.

“Oh god you’re taller than I expected.”

Donatello raised a painted-on brow and motioned to Casey with a bored expression on his face.

“And what, dear knock-off Jones, do you have to say to me?”

For a moment, Casey truly forgot why he was there. Come on! He told himself, this is Donnie! Sure, this version was taller and calmer (and frankly hotter) but it was still a Donnie! And no man of the Jones family would be afraid of some dorkish, sewer-dwelling mutant!

“Now you listen here, foureyes!” Casey shoved his finger in Donatello’s face. “April is my girl! Not yours!”

“Okay.” Was Donatello’s only response.

“Okay?” Casey repeated with a frustrated growl, “That’s all you have is an ‘okay’?!”

“What do you want, exactly?” Donatello crossed his arms.

“What I want is for you to leave April alone!”

“Alright.” Donatello shrugged and sat back down in his chair, immediately getting back to work as if nothing had happened.

“Wait, really?” Casey’s voice fell to a soft whisper as he didn't know what to do.

“Sure.” Donatello shrugged, “Don’t really care for your April much, anyway.”

“Hey-” Casey started to growl a warning.

“Don’t get your hockey pucks in a twist. I’m not interested your April.”

“You’re not?”

“No. I couldn’t care less if she or anyone else is interested in me, because I’m not interested in them. Unless their name is Atomic Lass, at which point I would gladly settle down and have three point five kids, any questions?” He said the last part so fast that Casey could hardly keep up.

“I have several.” Casey raised his hand.

“You get one.”

“Okay.” Casey took a moment to decide in his head which question to ask, before he finally pointed beyond Donatello, “Is that a jetpack?”

~~~~

“WAHOOOOOOO!” Casey didn't care that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. It was fun, and that was all that mattered. The freezing wind buffeting his face, the feeling of weightlessness. Nothing beneath his feet— nothing to support him apart from the purple jetpack strapped securely to his back.

Donatello zoomed after him with far more skill and prowess than the young human, but with no less free-willed enjoyment as they flew around the skies of new york.

“THIS IS AMAZING!”

Casey gave a surprised shout and laughed as he flipped over awkwardly, and Donatello flew over to easily right him.

“Ohhhhh!” Casey looked down and his body gave a dangerous shudder at how high they were.

“Careful.” Donatello drifted past him casually, “If you get sick up here, it might reach terminal velocity by time it hits the ground.”

“Wait, really?”

Donatello narrowed his eyes. “No. But we will have a very angry vomit-covered New Yorker on our hands.”

“Oh.”

“And nobody wants that.” Donatello crossed his hands behind his head as he flew, “If you think flying is cool, then just watch this— oh, and don’t try to copy it or we’ll have to scrape you off the pavement.”

The wings of Donatello’s jetpack retracted and the turtle fell with a scream of Fibonacci! His body naturally positioned into a dive, as if jumping from a board into a pool. Casey watched Donatello closely and roared cheers of encouragement at the daring fest, but when Donatello just kept falling with no signs of starting to pull up, Casey couldn't help the anxiety that grew in his chest. Halfway down, and further still. Lower than birds flew, and lower than buildings. Just as Casey was about to brace himself for an imminent impact, Donatello started to grow once more as he pulled up just before hitting the ground and accented in seconds

Donatello was back where he started in no less than two heartbeats. He shot past Casey and even higher than the Jones as he gave a whooping cry.

“And that’s how you do it Hamato-style babyyy!”

“Dude!” Casey flew higher to meet him, “That was wicked cool!”

“Well, I don’t like to brag— oh, who am I kidding? Yes I do! Praise me!” His eyes shimmered with excitement as he beamed and stared straight into Casey’s eyes.

“My Donnie could never be this cool.” Casey laughed at how adorable Donatello was with his pleading eyes. “He’s too busy trying to impress April to do anything like this! He makes charts and everything!”

“Hey, never discount the power of charts, my black-eyes fellow. They can be very useful. Though I must admit that Simp Me is rather disappointing.”

Casey almost choked on his spit as he laughed, clutching his stomach as his sides came into stitches.

“I mean, with a mind as big as a Donnie’s, why would he use it to impress a girl of all things? Seems kinda obsessively creepy, yeesh.” Donatello shivered.

“Well, he may be creepy, but you’re pretty cool, Dee.” Casey gave Donatello a playful punch on the shoulder as he annunciated the nickname in a teasing tone

Donatello brushed his shoulder off, but the smile on his face betrayed his enjoyment at the touch. “And you’re tolerable, Jones.”

#rottmnt donnie #Casey Jones 2012 #tmnt fic #tmnt crossover #tmnt one shots

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capsironunderoos · 3 years

Text

Fire

DINCEMBER - December 7 - Fire

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) X Reader

Summary: Din’s cyare has been captured and held at an Imperial base, and he stops at nothing to get her back.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Mentions of torture via Imps, a very angry Din, some fighting, and very brief mentions of death

Author’s Note: Ahhh this is so overdue! My student teaching started back up again after finals and I had some assignments to complete for it that kept me from writing. I had hoped to write more today, but that just didn’t happen. I hope to just post a bunch of the Dincember prompts at once in the next few days to get back on track! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!

Here’s the previous prompt:

DINCEMBER - December 4 - Hoth Chocolate

And the link to my masterlist: capsironunderoos masterlist

This is the hardest that he has ever pushed his body.

His arms are weak and his legs tremble, but he doesn’t stop.

He can’t stop.

If he does, he will suffer an unbearable loss, and there is only so much he can carry, so much that he can endure.

His blaster never leaves his hand, becoming almost an extension of himself as he fires without so much as a glance.

It makes no difference, the blaster bolt hits homes every time.

He is focused, his skills as a bounty hunter and Mandalorian warrior continuing to serve him as he tears through the Imperial facility.

Din thinks to himself that the Imps are beginning to multiply faster than womp rats, but he does not stop to dwell on the implications of that thought.

If he stops for anything, to catch his breath, to check his surroundings, he will surely collapse.

The stress of the past few days, of the constant searching and questioning have begun to take their toll.

He shakes the thought of stopping from his mind, forcing himself to continue, regardless of the pain in his legs, and the ache that has already settled into his shoulders.

He has never fought so hard before.

His hands land punches that force the receivers into the nearest wall, and his feet connect to bones with such strength that the sound of their cracking rattles around his helmet like thunder.

He spots an officer now, watches as he is hunched over a switchboard, punching at buttons as he glances from the control panel to the Mandalorian stalking towards him.

Din will not admit it, but the fear in his eyes spurs him on.

Good, he thinks, let them tremble before me, let them be afraid of the repercussions of what they have done.

When he reaches the control panel, he grabs the officer by his throat, pushing him as he walks until they reach the wall.

The officer’s head bounces off of the wall from the force of Din’s hand around his throat, cueing his hat to fall, and the echoing thud of his skull settles into a sick sense of satisfaction in Din’s stomach.

“Where is she?”

He growls out from behind his helmet, and the modulator amplifies the anger tenfold.

The officer is visibly sweating now, thick bullets running down his forehead as he tries to look anywhere but at the enraged Mandalorian in front of him.

This only stokes the fury growing in Din’s chest, and he picks his hand up off of the officer’s neck just long enough for him to gulp in a breath of air before his hand is settled around his throat again, and this time Din does not hold back.

He cannot stop himself before a sickening crack fills the room around him, and the officer falls to the ground below him.

Din huffs in annoyance, his adrenaline beginning to surge again.

The pounding of his feet begins to subside as the chemical overtakes his body, and he feels a renewing sense of energy.

He strides over to the control panel and is pleased to see different angles of a room displayed on it.

The feed is live, and he stands stoically still as he sees you suddenly fall into frame.

Your clothes are tattered and dirty, and your hair falls around your face as you collide with the floor.

He can see your chest rising and falling, and a sense of relief begins to overtake the adrenaline.

Din silently chants for you to get up, to show him that you never gave up hope that he would come for you.

Maker how he hopes and wishes that you never gave up on him, that you always knew that he would travel to the farthest edges of the Outer Rim just to have you safe again.

His heart rate speeds up when he sees two stormtroopers taking their time as they walk to where you still lay on the floor. It’s clear that they are speaking amongst themselves, but he doesn’t know how to work the control panel in order to hear what they are saying.

He watches as one of them bends down to scoop you up and off of the floor, and as soon as he does, you leap up, swinging your leg to knock his out from under him. He lands on his back, and before either of them can react, you have grabbed his blaster, aimed, and expertly killed the both of them.

Din watches with bated breath now, and he isn’t sure he remembers how to move.

Seeing such a small glimpse of you, and in such a drastically different mental state than the last time he saw you, is enough for him to forget how to even breathe at all.

His brain screams at him to move, to find you, but he does not listen until he sees you run out of the frame.

He locates the identification numbers of your cell on the control panel and begins to run.

Din is sure that the pounding of his feet against the floor would be enough to crack the tile, but he doesn’t care.

He pushes himself, harder than he ever has before, to reach you as quickly as he can.

You have been gone from his presence for far too long, and he cannot stand another second without you.

As he rounds yet another corner, he knocks into something solid, and further extends his already drawn blaster in order for it to be in front of him, pointing at whatever he just knocked over.

His actions quickly change as he registers that it’s you.

You quickly jump to your feet, the trooper’s blaster you had stolen aimed at Din.

He notices your hands shaking, and he can see bruises and cuts laced around your face. He notes how swollen your right eye is, and the blood resting against your split lip.

“Din?” You whisper, almost in disbelief, and his heart plummets to his stomach.

Had you given up hope that he would come for you?

“They said you were here, but I didn’t believe them. I’m sorry, I didn’t believe them,” you begin to repeat your words, and Din notes that you are still aiming the blaster at him.

He slowly holsters his own, before raising his hands in surrender in front of him.

“Cyare, it’s me. It’s me. It’s Din.”

He repeats, hoping that the words will register and that you will lower the blaster.

Upon hearing his name, you do just that, and the blaster clatters to the ground before you fall into his raised arms. He is caught off-guard, but moves quickly to catch you before you meet the ground.

You are crying now, soft whimpers as you clutch onto the chestplate of his beskar.

He wraps you up into his chest, pulling you to him as he holds you.

The alarms are blaring, and the lights are starting to flash, but he ignores all of it.

When he hears the distant tone of talk through a stormtrooper helmet, he does not hesitate to scoop you into his arms. When you don’t protest, he looks down to see that you are either sleeping or have passed out, and he hopes that it’s the former.

Despite the fact that he had to fight his way in, he manages to remember a way out, and by some miracle he doesn’t run into any trouble, except a mouse droid he has to shoo off.

Once he emerges into daylight again, he begins running and he feels his body physically sigh in relief when he sees the Crest sitting just before him.

---

After jumping onto the Crest and immediately taking-off, Din quickly discovered that you had indeed passed out. He had let you be for the few moments it took him to launch the Razor Crest, but as soon as he was able to click on the auto-pilot he was back at your side, moving you to rest on the cot the both of you share.

He sits beside you on said cot now, his hands moving to cup your face and turn it towards him.

“Cyar’ika. Please wake up,” he begs, and oh, how he begs.

He begins to make promises to the Maker, to the stars, hell, he thinks he even makes a promise to the force at one point.

Din knows you require medical attention, but he wants you awake so that you can explain to him what has happened to you, even if he is unsure that he will be able to listen to you describe what you have endured.

His hands move to your shoulders, and with a firm, but gentle, shake you gasp back into consciousness.

You grab at his arms and he helps you sit up before realizing that you think he is one of them.

“Cyare, I’m not going to hurt you. It’s me, it’s Din.” He whispers, and you look at him with wild, wide eyes.

He can tell you are trying to figure out if you should trust him, but when you catch a glimpse of the signet on his right shoulder pauldron relief instantly floods your eyes and you look down at the similar symbol on your skin.

His right hand finds it, his glove-clad fingers coming to rest against the mudhorn there on your wrist.

You look back up at him then, and you can feel the emotion and exhaustion rolling off of him.

“I need to get you cleaned up,” he deadpans, but his words are soft and laced with care.

You nod and allow him to lead you into the cockpit of the Crest.

He softly guides you into the pilot’s seat before he disappears for a minute to retrieve supplies, but you barely notice his missing presence.

Your eyes have found the stars, and you drink them in as if they are cold Bantha milk.

It had been days since you had seen them, and you missed how many there were, how easy it was to stare at them and have them calm every thought in your mind.

When Din returns, he stands for a moment to watch you look at the stars in wonder.

Their light shines into the Crest, illuminating the cockpit and painting a stark silver onto your features. He notices then just how bad your bruised eye is swelling, and how the bright light from the stars seems to deepen every cut he finds on your skin.

Din can’t help but to let out a shaky sigh at the thought of what you’ve been through, and at the thought of what would have happened had he not gotten there when he did.

Hearing his breath escape through the modulator cues you to snap your attention in his direction, and he wonders how long it will be before his presence no longer incites fear.

“Cyar’ika, it’s me. It’s your Din. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Your eyes stay wide and wary, but a small smile works its way onto your lips before it falls again. The cut on them has begun to bleed at the motion, and Din slowly makes his way to you to tend to it.

He squats down in front of you, and you sit rigidly still.

He lifts a wet cloth in front of you, and watches as you look between it and him.

“I need to clean that up, okay? Is it okay if I do that for you?”

You slowly nod, and his left hand moves to cup your cheek and keep your head still as his right gently swipes at the blood sitting on your lip. When he is satisfied that he has stopped the blood flow, he exchanges the cloth for another.

“Now, cyare, I need to clean up the cuts and bruises here okay?”

At the word “here,” he taps his left thumb softly against your cheek as his hand still cups your face.

You nod and he removes his hand to brush the hair out of your eyes and away from your face.

You whimper at the loss of contact, and the sound and action is so unlike you that it catches Din off-guard.

“Haar’chak, what did they do to you?”

He whispers, and he takes note of the tears that begin to sit along your waterline in response.

“I wouldn’t tell them,” you start, and your voice cracks at the use of it.

Din is quick to hand you a glass of water, and you take it from him, greedily gulping it down. He wonders then if you have been fed or given water at all since your capture.

“I wouldn’t tell them where you were, or where he was. That got me time with some angry troopers. I think they may have broken a rib or two. One of them could land a pretty solid right-hook, for an Imp.”

You try to laugh off your words, to pass over them as if they are nothing, but the sound won't come. A sad smile rests on your lips as Din continues his ministrations. His touch is soft as he does his best to clean the cuts on your face.

“Then I wouldn’t tell them your name, or the name of the child, and that afforded me a visit from an angry officer. He asked for the cameras to be turned off, and then proceeded to beat me so bad that I couldn’t stay conscious for most of it.”

Din can feel his hands beginning to tremble as he continues to clean you up. They shake in both anger and sadness, and he is glad that it is time to apply the bacta patches. This gives him a moment to gain control over his nerves.

“I need to apply bacta now, okay?” He asks, and you nod.

When the medicine hits your open wounds, a sharp hiss escapes through your gritted teeth, and Din’s heart constricts at the sound.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, and you shake your head before talking again, trying to mask the pain of the healing agent against your open cuts.

“When I didn’t tell them if he was special, or gifted, or whatever they want to call him, they sent in the firing squad. That was when they told me you were there to rescue me. I didn’t fully believe them, but I knew if you were there that it would be my best chance to escape.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get to you, cyare.”

You place your hand on his arm that rests in your lap, and he glances down at it.

“I never gave up that you would come for me, Din.”

He nods and returns to his work, his heart beating so fast he is sure that you can hear it hitting the beskar that sits on his chest.

As you sit in silence now, Din softly rubs at the cuts on your skin, his mind growing increasingly angry the more he thinks about what you endured, but his heart reaches out to you, aches for you.

He was in pain too, upset that your capture had been because of him. That they had tortured you to get to him, to learn about the little one.

As if you can read his mind, you ask him about Grogu.

“Where is he, Din? Please, please tell me he is okay,” you whisper, and it is the first time Din has been able to fully meet your eyes.

“He is safe, cyare. I left him with Cara on Nevarro. We’re going to get him now.”

You nod, satisfied with his response. Din hands you a cold compress and instructs you to press it onto your swollen eye.

“I got this when I wouldn’t explain my relationship to you, or why I wear our clan symbol.” You mumble, and Din’s eyes flit to the mudhorn on your wrist once more.

He thinks then about his clan of three, small and a little broken, but strong, and his all the same.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, and you stare at him before he says it again, louder this time.

“I’m sorry I turned my back for too long during that fight. I’m sorry I didn’t come for you sooner. I’m sorry that I’ve dragged you into this mess, this is no life for you, or the child.”

He rushes out, and you are shaking your head in disagreement so hard that it has started to ache.

“Do not sit there and apologize to me, Din Djarin. I know what I signed up for, and I willingly signed up for it. I would give my life to protect that child, and I would do the same for you. Have I not proven that? Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”

Din’s helmet jumps up at the quick movement he makes upon hearing those words escape your lips.

His eyes search yours through the visor, and he finds nothing but sincerity staring back at him.

“I’ll kill them for what they did to you, cyar’ika.” He states, and you smile at him.

“I would set the world on fire to keep you warm.”

Here’s the next prompt for Dincember:

DINCEMBER - December 9 - “Let It Snow”

#dincember #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian x reader #mando #mando x reader #mando x y/n #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #star wars #star wars x reader #Mandalorian #mandalorian x reader

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eliemo · 3 years

Text

Guilty Conscience

Summary: Patton knows he’s a hypocrite. Sometimes it’s just so much easier to care about someone else.

TWs: Mentions of past abuse

Notes: Something small and different to set up some upcoming angst. Sympathetic everyone. Taglist at the bottom

Learned Behavior Masterpost

Patton had always considered himself to be fairly observant. Oblivious sometimes, sure, and he definitely had a habit of trying to ignore the negatives, but he always saw more than he let on.

Apparently, he wasn’t as observant as he’d thought.

Everyone had told him not to dwell on it, Virgil especially, and he tried to take their advice. He really really tried.

And sometimes it worked. Sometimes he could put all his energy into the present, on making things better, on ensuring it never happened again. He could try to fix his mistakes, even if he had no right to be forgiven.

But there were times when he couldn’t help it, and he found himself sitting up in bed in the dark, replaying old memories over and over again in his head, thinking about everything he’d missed. Every warning sign, every red flag, every silent cry for help he’d been too blind to see.

Patton often thought about the first time Virgil had joined them for dinner, the night he’d revealed his name in an act of trust. Right after they’d stopped him from ducking out, disappearing completely.

Sometimes Patton let himself wonder what would have happened if they’d been too late. If they hadn’t even looked for Virgil. If Thomas hadn’t been so dysfunctional without him, he would have been left to fade away to the subconscious. He would have vanished from their lives forever, before they even got to really know him.

Virgil would have faded without ever experiencing a shred of true kindness. Virgil would disappear still thinking he was meant to be beaten and hated, knowing nothing but fear until the day he died. They would never have been able to show him otherwise, and they never would have known to regret it.

That first night he’d joined them as more than Anxiety, Virgil wouldn’t even step foot into the kitchen until the food was on the table- and even then he’d looked like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be there.

Once they’d all gotten settled down, Virgil had been wide eyed and tense the entire time, watching them all warily like he expected them to poison him. It had taken Patton a moment to realize the anxious side hadn’t even picked up his fork, and another to work up the courage to ask him if something was wrong with the food.

“It’s fine- I’m ok,” Virgil had said quietly, but Patton had caught the slight tremble in his hands. “I just...sorry, I’m just not...are you actually ok with- with this? With me...eating?”

And of course, they’d all assumed it was just his anxiety about eating with them properly for the first time, still hesitant to believe they were actually willing to accept him, and Logan had gently assured Virgil that he was more than welcome to eat as much as he wanted.

Virgil hadn’t eaten very much that night. The same thing happened the next few meals he had with them, hesitant and tense, barely touching his food. Patton had decided not to push, letting Virgil take his time to settle in and get used to the changes.

He wondered what would have happened if he had pushed, if he’d realized that Virgil hadn’t been sure if he was allowed to eat, convinced he would be hurt if he didn’t ask permission for something so simple.

It wouldn’t have undone all of the hurt Virgil had already gone through, but Patton would have been able to reassure him sooner. He could have kept himself from lashing out like he had the first time he found out about the treatment Virgil considered normal.

But there had always been evidence of what had been happening behind the scenes, long before Virgil ever felt safe enough to tell them his name. Little things that had been easy to miss back then, but were so obvious now.

He’d always been closed off and quiet, but the light sides had just chalked that up to him being...Anxiety. Patton had always been careful to be polite, but now he knew he should have looked closer.

Virgil had always carefully kept his distance, unusually wary whenever someone would walk into the room, and Patton had seen him trembling a few times one of them got too close.

The long sleeves and baggy clothes, the times Patton had seen him with a little extra concealer on his face, the way he’d sometimes ask permission to leave the room even when they already saw so little of him.

Virgil had avoided the kitchen like the plague, too. (Even after they’d learned the real reason why, it still took months to convince him it was safe) Patton had once found him getting a snack in the middle of the night, greeting him with a tired, “Anxiety?”

Virgil had jumped, stumbling over his words as frantic apologies spilled from his lips, and Patton had been too tired to do much other than quickly reassure him and step away as Anxiety hurried back to his room.

Virgil hadn’t been able to look Patton in the eyes for a few days after that, always flinching away from any movement when he briefly appeared in the living room, leaving even quicker than usual. Patton had naively assumed he’d just been startled, and wanted some space like usual.

Patton had been an idiot. He should have seen Virgil was being hurt years ago, not when Virgil had been driven to ask why his new family wasn’t doing the same.

Patton was always so desperate to keep everyone from focusing on the bad things in life, he’d ended up turning a blind eye to suffering happening right in front of him. Suffering he could have stopped.

Virgil had only lashed out at them once, but Patton knew he hadn’t meant it. Not really. “You never bothered to talk to me until I was useful, anyway!”

Virgil had apologized over and over again, convinced he would be hurt for the outburst, but Patton almost wished he hadn’t apologized, that he’d stuck to what he said and believed it.

Because on nights like this- sitting alone in the dark of his room thinking about how things could have been different- he knew Virgil had been right.

They hadn’t gotten to know Virgil until they realized they needed him. They hadn’t bothered to look past the aggression drilled into him, never thought to wonder why he was so distant until it was almost too late.

They’d left him to endure the abuse on his own, when he could have been safe so much sooner if Patton had just looked a little closer.

Virgil didn’t blame him, no matter how much he should. Even after all this time, he still just seemed amazed he was being offered safety at all.

Patton was glad for that at least. It wouldn’t undo his mistakes, but at least he could hold Virgil close and listen to him breathing, reassuring himself that they hadn’t been too late. Virgil was alive and safe with them. He would never be hurt like that again.

It helped, but it didn’t do much on these nights. They were less common than they had been in the beginning, but Patton was familiar enough with the racing thoughts to know he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight.

He was never able to keep himself from crying, but he’d press his hands tightly over his mouth to muffle any sound. He couldn’t make anyone worry about him- not over this. He wasn’t the one who’d been hurt.

Patton sighed, the sound small and shaky, wiping at his soaked cheeks as he threw the covers back. There was no use staying in bed with no distractions. He’d get a drink to help his now raw throat, and then put on some hopefully calming music.

He knew it wouldn’t do much, but it was better than nothing.

Patton padded down the hallway, wrapped up in his cat hoodie and hiccuping softly from lingering sobs, but when he made it to the kitchen he quickly realized he wasn’t alone.

There was a single light turned on over the sink, casting the kitchen in a dim, golden glow. Janus was seated at the table with his hands folded in front of him, and even in the poor lighting Patton could see how exhausted he looked.

When he glanced up, mismatched eyes dull and pained, Patton thought he was looking in a mirror. It was hastily concealed in a second, but the guilt and shame held in his eyes was a perfect reflection of Patton’s own.

He knew Janus was being plagued with it too, bombarded by thoughts of everything they missed. All the signs had been right in front of them, and if they’d just thought to look they could have stopped it.

But instead they were here, kept awake by their own regret, weighed down by the irrational belief that they were the only people who could have ended the abuse.

“It’s late,” Janus said, too strained to be casual, and Patton knew he’d seen it too. “Do you plan on sleeping anytime soon?”

Patton smiled sadly, wiping away the residual tears as he made his way into the kitchen. “Not tonight. You...want some tea?”

Janus shook his head, going back to staring blankly at the table, and Patton didn’t try to change his mind as he silently bustled around the kitchen. He made himself a cup, but made sure there was enough hot water left if the other side changed his mind.

“Mind if I keep you company, kiddo?”

Janus scoffed like he usually did at the nickname, but he gestured vaguely at the empty chairs, so Patton took that as a yes.

He settled down in the seat next to Janus, watching the snake carefully as he sipped at his tea. Watching Deceit at least gave him a distraction from the tightness in his own chest.

But he knew that look far too well, knew Janus was getting lost in memories and what ifs, and he knew it was tearing him apart. It looked like he hadn’t slept properly in days.

He took a risk, setting his mug down to gently place his hand over Janus’s own, who eyed him warily in response. Patton smiled, squeezing gently like he did for Virgil.

“It wasn’t your fault, Janus.”

For a moment he couldn’t read Deceit’s expression, feeling abruptly vulnerable under his stare, and he was unwittingly reminded of the court case, of being picked apart and turned in circles until he was lost.

Janus tore his gaze away with a resigned sigh, but he didn’t pull his hand away. “Of course,” he said, sounding unconvinced. “I’ll believe that when you do.”

Patton winced, tightening his hold without thinking. “It wasn’t...we couldn’t have known. We couldn’t have known.”

It came out more desperate than he’d intended, like he needed Janus to agree, to reassure him, even if it was just a lie. Patton would settle for lies tonight.

“You couldn’t have known,” Janus corrected, and it only made Patton feel worse. “I...Patton, I watched him lie when he was hurt. I saw the change happen, I watched him close himself off and become...scared. I never knew he was so scared.”

“You couldn’t--”

“I ignored it,” Janus snapped. “He pushed me away and lied when he was hurt and I thought...I never thought...I should have gotten him out of there. I could have stopped it from getting that bad.”

Patton ran his thumb along Janus’s palm, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “He doesn’t blame you.”

“I know.” His voice came out more of a croak, and Janus scrubbed a hand over his face before continuing. “That just makes it so much better, doesn’t it?”

Janus was watching him again, eyes sharp like he was reading the moral side like an open book, and Patton resisted the urge to squirm away. He wondered why he could come up with a million reasons why Janus wasn’t to blame, but couldn’t do the same for himself.

“Maybe sometimes,” he admitted, choosing his words carefully. “But...it’s worth it. It means he feels safe here. With us. He’s...he’s letting us do better this time. You might not think you deserve it yet, but being a family means the world to him. He’ll learn to trust you.”

Janus wasn’t meeting his eyes anymore, pursing his lips as his free hand ran idly over his scales. “I won’t...there’s nothing I can do that can make up for what I let happen.”

Patton had gone through this before, back when the shock and hurt had been fresh. He’d had time now to mull it over, to process his guilt, and even after all this time it still popped back up on bad nights.

Janus had only just found out, still hurting and blaming himself before the people who had actually put their hands on Virgil.

“I don’t think he wants that,” Patton said. “I think he just...wants to be safe. He wants us all to be safe.”

He felt Janus tighten his hold, watched him take in a shaky breath as his eyes grew shiny from tears pooling in his eyes. He blinked them away before they could fall, and Patton felt his heart break.

“You can cry, Janus,” Patton said, but he knew it would fall on deaf ears. “You’re allowed to be hurt.”

“Nothing happened to me.”

“You weren’t hit,” Patton said. “But you’re hurting. And if Virgil knew, he’d want to help you as much as you want to help him. He’s not angry at us, and he doesn’t want you to go through this alone. No one does. You can...you can ask for help.”

Janus was quiet for a moment, the silence in the kitchen suddenly deafening. Patton glanced at his tea, wondering if it had gone cold by now. He hadn’t really planned on drinking it in the first place.

Janus gave a short laugh, sudden and humorless, looking up to meet Patton’s eyes once again. “You first, Morality.”

Ah. Well...Patton couldn’t argue with that, could he? Not when Janus was looking at him like that, like he could see every lost battle clear as day. Patton wasn’t the only one looking in a mirror tonight.

“I...suppose I am a bit of a hypocrite,” he admitted, offering a small smile. He always was when it came to things like this. “But I’m alright, Janus. I really am.”

Deceit sighed, raising his eyebrows in that way he did whenever he caught one of the sides in a lie. “Of course you are, Patton. And so am I.”

Touche.

That seemed to be the end of the conversation, the silence that fell no longer feeling quite so forced and heavy, but neither seemed particularly inclined to move.

Patton dropped his head on Janus’s shoulder before he could think to talk himself out of it, shutting his eyes against the sudden urge to curl up and cry, the weight on his chest close to unbearable.

Janus only tensed for a second before relaxing slightly, and he didn’t shove Patton away with an annoyed growl, so he figured it was alright if he stayed for a moment. Maybe the comfort would do them both some good.

At some point, Janus scooted his chair closer to drop his chin on top of Patton’s head, the two of them sitting silently at the kitchen table, letting themselves get buried in their guilt. It was easier to place blame in silence, anyway.

They stayed that way until the sun began to rise a couple hours later, bathing the kitchen in the pale light of dawn.

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#sanders sides #learned behavior #abuse tw #food mention tw #ts patton #ts janus #moceit #platonic moceit #ts virgil #this is kinda just a new perspective thing #i was also just thinking about them and wanted to write something short #fanfiction #writing

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