#couldn’t bear watchin his friends for a while
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I am not the same person I was 4 hours ago
#finished generation loss….#shout out to everyone who worked on it they deserve it fr#so many talented actors#especially slime niki and ranboo they were amazing#gonna start using twitch again so I can refill is ranboo#watch* idk where refill came from#I’ve remembered that I loved his content for like 2 years before I unfollowed all the dsmp peeps I watched#unfollowed them around when techno died#couldn’t bear watchin his friends for a while#but I think I can now#generation loss
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Yearling - Ch. 8: Tipsy
You, Joel and Tommy go on patrol. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-7 found on Tumblr here.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
Warnings: Mention of past SA (minor details, not majorly described); light smut (in flashback); canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only
Length: 7.1k
AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
“Y’all always miss the easy shit or am I just lucky?”
You were stopped on your horse, waiting for them to pay attention.
“Bullshit you found somethin’ easy,” Tommy gave you a cocky half smile, shaking his head. “No way.”
You shrugged and smirked a little back.
“Not my fault you’re slacking off, Miller.”
Tommy pulled his horse to a stop and jerked his head at Joel to do the same before they both turned their horses around to face you. You leaned forward onto the saddle horn, arms crossed, smiling.
“Alright Bambi,” Tommy said. “Enlighten us.”
“Y’all are so busy watchin’ for footprints, you’re missing the other shit,” you said, nodding to a tree trunk just off the trail next to you. “See that spot there? Where the moss is gone? Right at shoulder height or so, not in a pattern that makes sense for somethin’ eating it or climbing it. Too small to be a bear. That’s a human hand that grabbed that tree. Probably headed that way, leaves are just too generally disturbed to see a pattern. Guessing infected that tripped.”
Tommy frowned but nudged his horse toward the tree and you watched, still smirking, as he examined the spot.
“Shit,” he shook his head, smiling. “Alright, lead on Bambi, let’s see what we find.”
You nudged Renaissance in the right direction and you could tell Joel was trying not to smile as you took the lead.
It was your third time out on patrol with the Miller men, going out on 12 hour shifts with them every other week.
You’d had to force yourself to go at first, shoving the panic down deep as you rode out of town with Joel and Tommy.
It hadn’t seemed to matter that you’d spent at least a few hours a day every day at Joel’s house since you first borrowed his guitar or that you’d had dinner with Joel, Tommy and Maria three times `now. It didn’t matter that the logical part of your mind felt they were safe and trustworthy, the part of you that was on the edge of panic was screaming.
That part of you was loud and desperate and insistent. It wasn’t like what had happened to you was something that was talked about. No one had equipped you for it - you weren’t sure it was possible to be equipped for it - but it was hard to not be mad at being so ill-prepared for the fall out. Mad at going through life when your body was a crime scene and there was perpetually some part of you scraping and clawing to keep it from ever happening again. You didn’t want to keep your distance, not from Joel in particular. He was one of the first friends you’d had in so long, you wanted to be able to do things like have his arm brush yours when you walked down the street and make it so you didn’t jump away from him.
But while part of you didn’t want to keep your distance from Joel, the rest of you needed the distance. So the distance remained and the clutching fear made you almost vomit on your way out of Jackson with Joel and Tommy the first time.
“Doin’ OK Bambi?” Joel frowned in the early morning sun as he rode alongside you.
“Fine,” you said, looking straight ahead, the grip on your reins tight. You could tell he didn’t believe you.
You were jumpy all morning, fighting to pay attention to what they said as they explained how patrols worked and why they did it the way they did. It was hard to absorb the information through the haze of the heady, high-alert feeling that thrummed through you. You were aware of everything about them, every breath that came a little quicker, every sharp move of an arm, every look in your direction. You couldn’t shake the screaming alarm inside you, the shrill yell of “danger” drowning out everything else.
Around lunchtime, Tommy excused himself, wandering into the woods alone to use the bathroom, leaving you and Joel on your own. You resisted the urge to get back on Renaissance or at least go press yourself against her side, borrowing her strength and safety. Instead, you stayed on the ground, back against the tree, Joel a few feet away from you.
“I know it probably don’t mean much but you don’t need to be afraid of us, Bambi,” he said, watching you carefully, an almost sad look in his eyes. You frowned at him. He seemed to know why. “I can see it, how tense you are. Don’t need to be. We’re not going to hurt you. I understand you’re scared but you don’t need to be. It’s OK.”
You looked at him for a moment before you just nodded. He was right, it didn’t mean much. He was right, you didn’t need to be afraid of them. You knew that, some part of you knew that. You held onto that, focused on it, tried to force the pulsing fear out of your body when Joel was close.
It got better as the day went on and, at the end of it, you settled the horses and went to Joel’s. He brought you his guitar and you sat against the tree, playing until your fingers were too sore and you were falling asleep sitting up.
The next time out, you were less tense from the start. It felt familiar and comfortable now and you were able to fall into a comfortable rapport with the two of them.
You were almost surprised to find that you liked Tommy. He was kind, funny, sarcastic and it felt like you could trust him. Or almost trust him, at least.
By the third trip, it was easy. Almost easy, anyway. You found yourself smiling and joking with them in ways you hadn’t in years. You felt like yourself. Almost like yourself, anyway. You’d missed that.
You spotted more marks on the trees as you worked your way slowly through the forest, your rifle at the ready, until you spotted movement ahead. It was far enough out that it wasn’t distinct at first but it was something. You held your hand out and you heard Joel and Tommy come to a stop behind you.
“Binoculars?” You asked, not looking back at them, just turning your palm up. You felt Joel’s fingers brush your own as he put them in your hand and you didn’t flinch away from him. You could see the infected clearly now, more than a football field away through the brush. You smiled a little.
“Think it’s just the one,” you said quietly. “But should be ready, just in case there are more. Y’all OK for me to handle it since you’d have just let ‘em run amok anyway?”
“You go right ahead,” Tommy said. “Just don’t get mad if we’re the ones who clean up when you miss.”
You scoffed and handed the binoculars back to Joel before raising your rifle and lining up the shot. It was tricky, the infected was on slightly higher ground and you had branches to contend with. But you thought you had a clear path. You took a deep breath and then breathed out as you relaxed before you fired. You watched through the scope as the bullet hit its chest and it dropped.
“Nice shot,” you could hear the smile in Joel’s voice.
“No way,” Tommy said. “No way she hit that fucker.”
“She dropped it in a shot,” Joel said, proud. “Did real good, Bambi.”
“Hear that Tommy?” You said, twisting in the saddle and flipping him off. “Did real good, Joel said.”
“Oh yeah, because Joel’s the arbiter of good,” Tommy rolled his eyes but he was smiling a little all the same.
“Start shootin’ as good as me and you can be the arbiter of good,” Joel smiled at you.
“Please, I can hit an infected from half a mile…”
“No way,” you said at the same time Joel said “Bullshit.”
“Just because you ain’t ever seen it…” Tommy began.
“Because you can’t do it,” Joel said.
“I’m with Joel,” you said. “Bullshit.”
“See, I’m real glad this is your last patrol with us, Bambi,” Tommy shook his head. “Can’t take gettin’ ganged up on like this. The guy saves your life one time…”
“Two,” you replied.
“One time, two times,” Tommy said. “Basically the same thing. Don’t mean you’ve gotta take his side even when he’s wrong for the rest of your life…”
“Ain’t wrong,” Joel said. “You’re not that good a shot.”
You tried to not audibly laugh. Tommy was right, it was your last patrol with the two of them. After this, you’d be out with just one patrol partner. You weren’t sure when that was starting or who it would be - something that made your stomach knot to think about - but you were going to miss going out with Joel and Tommy.
“Feel like we should celebrate,” Tommy said as the three of you got close to town. The sun was dipping low on the horizon. “Bambi’s graduating from patrol school, going out into the wild blue yonder, the great unknown if you will…”
“It was three patrols!” You laughed, looking over at him. “Not that I ever went to college or some shit but somethin’ tells me it was a bit more than that…”
“This still deserves some recognition,” Tommy said. “Friends are watching William tonight, Maria and I were going to the Tipsy Bison, why don’t the two of you come, too?”
“Tommy,” Joel gave him a look. “C’mon…”
“It’ll be fun,” he ignored Joel and looked at you. “There’s booze and there’s music…”
“And people,” you scrunched your nose at that.
“Yeah but we’ll be there to keep any of ‘em from doing somethin’ you don’t want,” Tommy said. “We didn’t let any infected get you…”
“No, I didn’t let any infected get you,” you corrected him, smirking slightly. “Seem to recall my bullets being the lethal ones…”
“Today maybe but we can’t know with the one two weeks ago,” Tommy protested.
“Oh please!” You scoffed. “You shot first, first shot winged the fucker’s shoulder, the second shot - my shot - hit ‘em in the chest…”
“Arguably my shot kept us from getting ripped apart by infected…”
“It was one infected and it was my shot!”
“And I say we can keep you safe from all the assholes in Jackson,” Tommy finished, looking smug. “Tipsy Bison’s fun. Promise.”
You looked at Joel for a second. He was glaring at Tommy before he looked, apologetically, at you. But you wanted to be able to do things like go to a bar. You hadn’t since the night of the outbreak. In large part because you didn’t have a bar to go to and, since you’d come to Jackson, the thought of being near that many people made your skin crawl. But you’d had dinner in the mess hall with Joel a few times since then. It had gone well, you were a little more relaxed each time. A random woman had come up and put her hand on you and Joel’s backs once and you’d jumped but you hadn’t grabbed the knife from next to your plate to defend yourself from her.
Joel had noticed. The second the woman was out of earshot - what she’d come to say, you had no idea, the roar of blood too loud in your ears - he leaned over, careful not to touch you.
“You’re OK, Bambi,” he said, his voice low and calm and steady. “You’re in Jackson, you’re with me, you’re safe sweetheart. Just breathe, OK? You’re safe.”
You just nodded, squeezing your eyes shut, clenching your teeth together like that might keep you from biting into something that you couldn’t rip and tear your way through. You could feel him there next to you, the heat of him, the comforting smell of him so close, close enough that it kept you from spiraling into the bleakness of panic.
Joel had called you sweetheart once before, too. You weren’t sure why but you liked it. It felt like something solid, like you could lean into Joel’s presence because of it. It was what you called something you cared for, something you’d protect. You liked it.
“Tommy,” Joel said, a warning tone in his voice. “Told you not to push…”
“We can go,” you said, only catching a glimpse of Joel’s brows going up as you looked to Tommy on the other side of you. “But I’m only stayin’ if the whiskey is decent.”
“It ain’t bad,” Tommy winked. “Definitely worth a night out.”
You returned the horses to the stables, Olivia - a girl you were training to help run the stables - taking Tommy’s as you started to take the tack off Renaissance.
“See y’all there,” Tommy clapped Joel on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go grab Maria. No wimping out, Bambi. Know you’re just dyin’ to be a chicken shit…”
“I’d need you to teach me how to do that, Miller,” you shot back. He barked a laugh as he left and you shook your head, smiling a little.
“You really don’t have to humor him that much,” Joel said, smiling a little himself.
“I like it,” you said, bending low to unbuckle the saddle. “He reminds me of my brother.”
“You have a brother?” Joel asked.
You froze for a second before scratching Renaissance’s chest and standing up again.
“Had two,” you said. “Richie and Brendan. I was the baby of the family. Richie was a lot like Tommy, always giving me shit. But he could take as good as he gave. Our mama didn’t understand it, she always thought we were inches away from brawlin’ when all we were doin’ was teasing the ever loving shit out of each other. Not that we didn’t brawl every now and then but usually it was just mocking the other one relentlessly. Brendan was seven years older than me, didn’t know him as well, really. He moved into the bunk house when I was 11 and I didn’t see him as much after that. But he taught me the first things I learned on guitar. ”
“Sounds like you miss them,” Joel said softly.
You nodded.
“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, I do.”
“You really don’t have to go tonight,” Joel said after a moment. “I warned ‘em not to put pressure on you, I know you don’t like people…”
“I don’t,” you nodded, pulling the heavy saddle into your chest. “But, believe it or not, I really liked bars before the outbreak.”
“Really?” You could hear his raised eyebrows. You smiled a little to yourself. You liked knowing someone well enough that you could hear their facial expressions. You hadn’t had that in so long.
“I was at a bar the night of the outbreak actually,” you said. “Listenin’ to a band fuck up some of my favorite songs. Got in a brawl with a woman, smacked ‘er upside the head with a beer bottle. Turned out she was infected. Didn’t know it at the time but… Anyway, I liked bars. They were fun. I want to be able to go to them again. I know it probably doesn’t seem like it but I am trying…”
“I know you are,” Joel cut you off. “Trust me. I know you are. And I think you’re brave as shit for doin’ it, but that’s why I warned him not to push you because you shouldn’t do anything you’re not ready for.”
“Well, you’ll be there right?” You asked, pausing for a second to look at him as you carried the saddle to the rack.
“Yeah,” he nodded after a second. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
“Then I’m ready for it,” you shrugged, going for the rack and putting the saddle up.
“You know,” he said, breaking a moment of awkward tension as you went back for your horse. “Tommy did somethin’ similar on outbreak day.”
“Yeah?” You smiled a little.
“Had to bail that fucker out of jail that night,” Joel laughed darkly. “It wasn’t the first time, figured he was just causin’ trouble again. By the time we got back to mine, the neighbors were turned… Anyway, there was a guy who was roughin’ up a waitress, actin’ crazy, Tommy stepped in and knocked him out. Didn’t know until later that he was infected.”
“So before Tommy was a dad he was someone who picked fights in bars?” You asked, brows raised as you took the bridle off Renaissance and gave her forehead a scratch.
“All the fuckin’ time,” Joel laughed, shaking his head. “He was such a damn hot head. Kept tellin’ him he was a bad fuckin’ influence and it didn’t matter…”
“Bad influence on who?” You laughed too. “You’re the older one, were you that impressionable?”
He paused for a second, the shadow of something sad and terrible ghosting over him before he answered.
“Just in general,” he said. “Doubt Maria’d look twice at him back then. Except maybe to prosecute him…”
You laughed and Joel smiled and you decided not to ask about whatever haunted him. He didn’t ask about your ghosts, seemed only fair to not ask about his.
Joel volunteered to go grab sandwiches for the two of you while you brushed down the horses and you took the time to try to settle and calm yourself before you knew you’d have to go be around a bunch of people.
Renaissance seemed to sense your unease, lowering her head and pressing it to your chest and stomach and giving a soft whinny. You kissed the place between her ears and gave her a nice scratch.
“You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” You said softly. She chuffed. “You just know, don’t you?” She nuzzled against your body and you smiled, putting your arms around her. “He’s a good one, right? Joel? You can tell, can’t you?” She breathed out in a little huff and nuzzled closer. You scratched deeper on her neck. “Yeah, you know. Can’t get anything past you.”
Joel came back with sandwiches and apples that were still hanging on from fall’s harvest and the two of you ate sitting on the floor outside Renaissance’s stall. You ate half your apple and held the other half over your head, the horse coming and taking the rest gently from your outstretched hand.
“You were always meant to work with animals weren’t you?” Joel asked, watching you for a moment.
“As much as someone can be meant for something,” you shrugged, looking up at Renaissance and giving the underside of her chin a scratch. “It’s why I didn’t bother with college. I was shit in school anyway, solid C student. It was boring as hell. The books in English class were never what I actually wanted to read, the shit in math never seemed like something I would use… But my counselor really wanted me to audition for some music school in the northeast but fuckin’ why? I could just be a rancher, knew everything I needed for that already. Why try to make it in music when that’s nothin’ but disappointment?”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Joel laughed. “I wanted to be a musician for a while, when I was young and dumb.”
“Really?” You looked at him, brows raised. He just nodded, a little sheepish. “What happened? You make a go of it?”
“Nah,” he waved you off. “Life got in the way.”
“What’d you do instead?”
“I was a contractor,” he said. “Built shit. Worked with Tommy a lot, so that was nice.”
“Family business can be fun,” you nodded. “Assuming your family aren’t shits.”
You and Joel both laughed at that. Your body felt oddly loose there on the floor of the stable, nothing tense or strained.
“Think Tommy will be pissed if I take half an hour to get cleaned up?” You asked after a moment. “I don’t think I can smell myself anymore but I’m pretty damn sure I smell like horse.”
“He can deal,” Joel said. “If not, won’t be the first bar fight he loses.”
You went to your respective houses and you took a quick shower, washing off the sweat and the dirt of the trail, braiding your hair and piling it on your head while it was still wet. There was one pair of jeans that fit you better than the rest, a pair you rarely wore because you knew they showed off things about yourself you’d prefer to hide. But you got them out of your closet this time and pulled them on, the denim tight over your ass and hips and thighs, highlighting your shape. You found a tank top that you usually just threw on under a button down and pulled it on, too, the dip in the fabric revealing a hint of cleavage. Looking in the mirror gave you goosebumps but you weren’t sure if they were from nerves or excitement or both. It took you a second to realize that you wanted to dress up, to look good. Desirable. It was such a foreign feeling that you hadn’t recognized it until you saw yourself.
Joel showed up just as you were pulling your boots on and you opened the door as you ducked back to the hook just inside the door to grab the coat.
“Sorry,” you said sheepishly. “Just a sec…”
You went back for the door and Joel was just… staring at you. There was a pull in your stomach, a tightness that felt strange yet familiar.
“What?” You frowned, shrugging the coat on.
“Nothin’,” he said, looking off to the side. “Ready?”
“Yeah,” you said, turning on the lamp and locking the door behind you.
You shoved your hands deep in the pockets of the coat, the shearling soft on your bare skin.
“You gotta be warm in that damn thing,” Joel said after a minute.
“A little,” you shrugged. “But I don’t mind being warm. Texan, remember?”
“There’s warm and there’s that, Bambi,” he half smiled at you. “You’re gonna sweat to death in that sucker come July.”
“Yeah,” you grimaced a little. “I’ll have to start leaving it at home soon, I think. Not looking forward to it.”
“Why…” Joel paused, like he was rethinking the question, but then asked it anyway. “Why do you wear it so much?”
You frowned. It wasn’t something you’d really thought about. It was more something you just did, the same as turning on a light in a dark room at night or looking over your shoulder when you felt a chill up your spine. It felt good and safe so you put it on and that was the end of it.
“It’s just…” you tugged your hands together, still in the coat pockets so it was completely surrounding you. “It’s like that blanket you had when you were a kid, where you just had to haul it with you everywhere because everything kind of felt overwhelming without it? It’s like that.”
“What… um,” he began, clearing his throat awkwardly. “What makes you like it that way?”
“Can’t make fun of me,” you said.
“Won’t make fun of you.”
“It smells good,” you couldn’t look at him when you said it. “Or, it did, anyway. Mostly worn off now. That’s what started it.”
Joel just nodded and didn’t say anything about it, to his credit. You stole a look at him as you walked. He’d showered, too. Changed into clean clothes, his denim shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his hair no longer unruly but slicked back. He looked good. Really good. But Joel always looked good, this was nothing new. It was just that you were connecting to it now. It was more than just a neutral observation, like the sky is blue or water is wet. Joel was handsome and you liked it, liked looking at him.
You weren’t sure what to do with that.
“You clean up nice,” you said, giving him a small smile.
“Thanks,” he said, frowning a little, glancing your way quickly before looking back to the street. “You do, too.”
The Tipsy Bison was busy. Not as busy as you remembered bars being before but on par with the mess hall at peak meal times - just rowdier. Music played over a sound system, people laughed and talked, you could smell the alcohol on the air.
You tensed a bit. You couldn’t help it. There were just so many damn people. You’d gotten better with people over the months that you’d been in Jackson but being so outnumbered still left you uneasy at best, terrified at worst. There had been no indication that the people here wished you harm but you knew that, if they wanted to, you were too overwhelmed to do a damn thing about it.
“You’re alright,” Joel said, leaning ever so slightly toward you. “Won’t let anyone hurt you, promise.”
You just nodded as you caught sight of Tommy and Maria flagging you down from a corner table.
“We were startin’ to wonder!” Tommy said, sliding off his chair at the high top table to hug Joel and clap him on the back. “Glad y’all could make it.”
Maria got down, too, only to sit with her back to the door. Tommy sat next to her, also not in his original spot. You frowned.
“Figured you’d want your back to a wall, Bambi,” he said as he got settled back in. “But couldn’t see ya come in from over here so we traded.”
“Thanks,” you frowned a little as you sat down, oddly touched. Tommy shrugged and took a sip of his beer.
Joel went and got you both drinks at the bar and sat next to you, his elbows on the small table. The bar was warm, warm enough that keeping the coat on was starting to get uncomfortable. You were only half way through your first drink when you slid it off, draping it over the back of your chair. You felt Joel and Tommy watching you and you put your hands between your knees, covering your torso with your arms. You wished you’d bothered drying your hair before leaving your house or put on another shirt so you had something else to hide behind, feeling exposed.
“Hear you’re about to go into regular patrol rotation,” Maria said, breaking the silence. “Also heard you’re a bit of a deadeye.”
“Well, compared to Tommy maybe,” you smirked, reaching for your whiskey glass. Maria’s eyes darted to your wrist for only a moment and you resisted the urge to pull your hand back into yourself as quickly as possible, finishing your drink instead. You were so used to the scars there, so used to having as much skin as possible covered, you hadn’t thought about it. Now they felt like a neon sign, screaming and loud on your skin, advertising to the world everything Mitchum liked to do to you. Like Maria and everyone else here knew how he liked to chain you to a mattress for hours at a time, how he liked it when you made yourself bleed.
“Need another drink,” you said, slipping off the stool and heading for the bar. You shoved your hands in your pockets, having to force them in the tight denim, and tried to think of anything but Mitchum on top of you as you waited your turn.
“What can I… shit, hi!” Julie, a woman you’d seen at the stables when she came to pick up a horse for patrol was behind the bar. She smiled, wide and kind. “Good to see you somewhere besides the stables! What can I get you?”
You blinked in surprise for a second before getting your bearings. It hadn’t occurred to you that people you barely spoke to would ever consider you outside of those interactions. Another adjustment, another thing you’d forgotten about being around people.
“Can I get two shots?” You said.
“Of?”
“Don’t care,” you said. “And then two whiskeys, neat.”
She poured you two shots and put them in front of you and you took them both one after the other, wincing as you did.
“OK girl,” she said, eyes a little wide. “Sure you still want the whiskeys?”
“Yes, please.”
She gave you those, too, and you picked them up and turned to go back to the table before remembering that you needed to say goodbye to people when you stopped interacting with them.
“Thank you,” you smiled tightly. “See you later?”
“Yeah!” She smiled. It looked more natural than yours felt. “Really, it was good to see you.”
You brought the drinks to the table and put one in front of Joel before taking your seat again, Tommy laughing at something Maria said just before you came up.
“Aw, none for me?” Tommy pouted a little.
“Yeah, yours is as real as the shot you made that took down that infected,” you replied dryly. Joel snorted and the song changed.
“Oh, come on!” Maria grabbed Tommy’s arm. “I love this one!”
“Fine, woman,” he sighed but smiled, letting his wife pull him out of his chair. “So demandin’…”
You watched them dance and enjoyed, for a moment, that you could actually do things like make out the song over the buzz of general conversation. You couldn’t do that just a few months ago. You took a sip of whiskey and left your arms resting on the table. For some reason, you were fine with Joel seeing your skin.
“So where’d you learn to dance, anyway?” Joel asked, looking over at you.
“If I tell you,” you said, looking back at him. “You have to promise to not make fun of me. And never use it against me. If you do I swear to God I will trample you with a horse and make it look like an accident.”
“I promise, Bambi,” he laughed a little. “Sure I can find somethin’ else to tease you about.”
“My mama made me do cotillion when I was 16,” you said.
“You’re kidding.”
“I am not.”
“I cannot picture you doing cotillion,” he shook his head and took a sip of whiskey.
“Oh I rebelled every step of the way,” you laughed. “They had to bribe me. Said I couldn’t do rodeo if I didn’t do cotillion so I did the bare fuckin’ minimum the whole time. And then, as a final fuck you to my mother, the night before we left for cotillion, I fucked one of the ranch hands just so I wouldn’t be virgin when I was up there in that stupid white dress.”
Joel almost choked on his sip of whiskey and you laughed a little before patting him between the shoulder blades.
“Doin’ OK there?” You asked, leaving your hand in the middle of his back, the pleasant haze of alcohol settling over you.
“M’fine,” he managed, coughing. “Just… not what I was expecting out of you.”
“Yeah, I was a hellion,” you laughed a little, rubbing his back as he started breathing normally again.
“Well that part ain’t a surprise,” he gave you one of his half smiles that made cheek dimple.
It was only then that you realized you were touching him. That you could feel the muscle of his back beneath his shirt, feel the heat of him. You were so close to him. Your heart beat faster. You took your hand back and cleared your throat before taking another sip of whiskey.
“Anyway, that’s my deep, dark secret,” you smiled. “I was raised to be a southern belle and all I wanted to do was get thrown off fuckin’ horses.”
“Better gettin’ thrown off horses than tryin’ to be something you’re not,” he said.
Tommy and Maria came back to the table, laughing and breathless and you tucked your arms below the table again. But it was fun sitting there, next to Joel, laughing and talking with people. Even if you found yourself more listening than talking, you also found yourself drifting closer to Joel the more drinks you had, until your knee was against his thigh below the table. Your fingers brushed his leg when you brought your hands under the table after polishing off another glass of whiskey, your head fuzzy.
“We should head out,” Tommy sighed, finishing his drink. Maria groaned and leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder. “I know, baby, but we gotta pick up William or Lisa is never gonna watch him for us again.”
“I know,” she groaned. “Alright, let’s go since you’re apparently the responsible one tonight.”
“Surprises me too,” he kissed her head. “Feels like some alternate reality or somethin’… Y’all have fun! Seriously, Bambi, it was good working with you the past few weeks. Hope I’ll get to again sometime.”
“You too, Tommy,” you smiled and watched him help Maria off her seat and get her out the door.
“I’ve never seen Maria that drunk,” Joel laughed a little. “Or you, for that matter.”
“Yeah, I haven’t been drunk around another person in…” you thought about it, the math harder in your drunken state. “About 13 years?”
The last time had been the night before Marisa had left. Marisa would have liked Jackson.
You’d found her one day in the fall, her leg broken and a gash on her arm, just on the edge of what you considered your territory.
“Please,” she managed as you stood over her. “I won’t last out here. Please.”
The smart thing would have been to shoot her instead of bringing her home. You had a lot to protect and the fewer people who knew how to find it, the better. But she was so vulnerable, so beautiful, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.
Instead, you hauled her onto Nike and brought her home, doing what little you knew to set her bone and keep her wound from getting infected.
She was just a friend, at first. It was nice, having another adult around to talk to and laugh with. Someone who remembered what life was like before, who could appreciate what was gone and what you had now. She was smart, bitingly sarcastic, funny as hell, kind almost to a fault. She was so easy to love.
Then, one night you were on the couch, snow falling outside and a fire going in the hearth and it felt like you couldn’t help yourself anymore. You leaned into her and she met you halfway, her full lips pressing against your own. Soft and sweet at first, then insistent, pressing you back into the couch until you were lying below her, your hands sliding below her shirt to trace her soft curves, slipping beneath her bra to cup her breast, her nipple firm against your palm.
“Have you ever done this?” She asked, breathing heavily over you, her eyes tracing your face.
“I made out with girls before,” you said, your face getting hot as you resisted the urge to grind your hips up against hers. “But anything more was with men. Is that… is that OK?”
She kissed you and smiled as she did, her hand going to your waist, slipping below you to pull you a little closer.
“It’s OK baby,” she kept her lips close enough to your own that you could feel her as she spoke. “I’ll take care of you. Promise.”
She was true to her word. She undressed you slowly, kissed down your body to your wet and aching slit, the first person to ever taste you, moaning as she did. Her hands slid up your body, fingers sinking into your flesh as she drove her tongue deeper and you came against her mouth. Her body was both wondrous and new but familiar, so much more like your own than lovers you’d had before. She was soft where men were hard, full where they were flat and you relished it. You weren’t sure how long the two of you were entwined before you fell asleep, tangled up in her.
She stayed for eight months. When she decided to leave, it broke your heart almost as much as killing Justin had.
“Come with me,” she was begging, pleading, the night before she was planning to set off for San Francisco. The two of you had polished off a bottle of vodka you’d traded for a few months earlier and had been saving for something that felt worth while. This was nothing if not worthwhile.
“You know I can’t,” you whispered, holding her close. “But you can stay…”
“I can’t,” she brushed your hair back. “This isn’t… I need more than this, than hiding away from everyone in the wilderness. This isn’t the kind of life I was built for, baby, you know it’s not.”
“Stay for me,” you were trying not to cry. “For us, please. I’ll try to be enough for you, I…”
“You are enough,” she said. “And I really wish this was the kind of life I could lead but it isn’t. It just isn’t, it doesn’t matter how much I wish it was.”
She left the next morning but you woke up, confused and wondering where she was, for months after she was gone. You’d never known if she made it to San Francisco.
“Didn’t know you had friends then,” Joel said, sounding a little surprised and pulling you out of your own head.
“I had a couple,” you shrugged. “Mostly folks I’d trade with, I wasn’t totally feral.”
“News to me,” he winked and you rolled your eyes, laughing a little as the song shifted. “Can I ask you somethin’?”
“Besides that?”
He glared at you and you laughed.
“Say no if you don’t want,” he said. “But… Would you dance with me? Doesn’t have to be any of the fancy stuff you were teaching Ellie…”
“Sure,” you cut him off, before you could think better of it. “Yeah, let’s… let’s dance.”
He smiled and you went with him to the dance floor, careful not to touch him, your head spinning. He stopped at the edge of the dance floor, looking at you for a moment. His eyes were soft and deep and you were having a hard time remembering why being close to him scared you.
“Can I…?” He trialed off, but you knew what he meant. You nodded and the two of you stepped closer together. You reached up and slowly, hesitantly, put your arms around his neck as his hands found your waist, his wide palm brushing your ribs. He was careful to not have any more of his body touching you as the two of you started to sway on the dance floor. You were acutely aware of where you were making contact with him, could feel the line of his broad shoulders below your forearms, the line of his fingers at your waist. It was so intense that it took you a moment to even realize what was playing.
“Always liked this song,” you said, looking up at Joel.
“Hm?”
“Hallelujah,” you said. “Always liked it.”
“Me too,” Joel said, his eyes searching yours. “It’s… it’s beautiful. Always thought so.”
“It’s been nice, patrolling with you,” you said, feeling yourself inching closer to him. You couldn’t help it. “Not sure going out there with anyone else will be even half as fun.”
“I’m sure you’ll end up with someone good,” Joel said. “I’ve patrolled with most of the folks who go out, they’re all good people. All know what they’re doin’, too. You’ll be safe.”
“I’m not worried about that part of it,” you smirked.
“I am.”
“Why?” You laughed a little.
“Don’t want you gettin’ hurt, Bambi,” he said softly, his hold on you deepening. “They all know what they’re doin’ but… Not sure I trust someone else to look out for you.”
“You think I need someone to look out for me?” You raised your eyebrows.
“No,” he said. “But I like bein’ the one to do it.”
Your front was brushing against his now and you couldn’t seem to pull your eyes away from his. He was so close to you but you liked it that way, liked that there was a pull in your stomach that wanted him even closer.
“I’m going to miss it,” you said, your voice quiet. You were almost afraid to speak any louder, like that would break whatever was happening between you if you did. “Being out there with you.”
You moved closer, so close now that you had to rest your head over his heart. Your hands slid down him, one resting on his chest, the other on his shoulder. He was so warm and solid and broad and his arms were around your waist, his hands splayed wide over your back. You could hear his heartbeat, feel his breathing, smell his skin. He was so close to you, so close that you could feel the line of his body and you liked it. Wanted more of it.
The song ended and he held you like that for another moment, his nose brushing the top of your head.
“I should get back,” you said, still in his arms, not wanting to move quite yet. “Have to be up early, I’m in the stables tomorrow…”
“C’mon,” he said, stepping back from you but keeping his hands on your waist. “I’ll walk you.”
You got your coat, draping it over your arms, and walked slowly, silently, with Joel back to your house. It was almost strange, having him not be close anymore. Part of you felt like he should be, that you should always be able to smell his skin and feel him breathe. His arm brushed yours as you walked.
“That was fun,” you said, more sober as you stood outside your door. “Thank you. And if you see Tommy before me, thank him, too. I think I needed a nudge like that.”
“May not want to thank him,” Joel smiled, his hands in his pockets. “It’ll go to his head, he’ll be even worse…”
“Good point,” you smiled back. “Can’t let him get to be any more insufferable.”
The two of you stood there on your porch, watching each other in the haze of moonlight and the glow of the lamp from inside your home.
“I should go,” Joel said after a moment. “Don’t be a stranger just because we aren’t killin’ infected together anymore.”
“I wont,” you smiled. “You’ve still got the guitar.”
He laughed.
“That I do,” he shook his head a little. “Night, Bambi.”
“Night, Joel.”
Next Chapter
A/N: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK
THEY LIKE FULLY TOUCHED GUYS I CAN'T.
Also, hi there! Bambi is bi :) She's been bi since I first thought up the character - her first kiss was with a girl she learned trick riding with - and we'll see a little bit more of Marisa in flashbacks later.
I do have a taglist, comment below if you'd like to be added. But the taglist gods are fickle beings so no promises. I will be starting a notifications blog soon and I'll let y'all know when it's up!
You can find me on Twitter (I refuse to call it that other stupid thing) at @AGalWhoWrites. Twitter tends to be slightly more unhinged, FYI.
Thank you so much for being here and following Bambi and Joel's story! I'm so excited to have people to share it with and you are so appreciated. Love you!!
Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf
#fanfic#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x oc#slow burn#yearling
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Title: I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you
Description: Will doesn’t like the feeling’s he gets when he’s around Hannibal
C/W: Angst/open ending
Song: lacy by Olivia Rodrigo
**Lacy, oh, Lacy, skin like puff pastry
Aren't you the sweetest thing on this side of hell?**
Will wasn’t sure why he felt like this, why whenever he looked at Hannibal his stomach always felt like it was on fire and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up but all he knew he didn’t necessarily like it.
**Dear angel Lacy, eyes white as daisies
Did I ever tell you that I'm not doing well?**
Here he was back at another session in that stupid chair, he hated when people picked at his brain, he didn’t want others seeing what was in his mind. But oddly enough he didn’t mind if Hannibal saw what was going on in his head “you seem distracted Will” Hannibal said staring at Will and knocking Him out of his Thinking or more like overthinking.
Will shook his head and nodded nervously “fine Hannibal still having nightmares “ Will said as he stared back into those bright Maroon eyes and he could feel his stomach light up again with that same burning feeling.”why don’t you tell me about it”
**Watchin', hidden in plain sight
Ooh, I try, I try, I try
But it takes over my life
I see you everywhere
The sweetest torture one could bear**
Will was watching as Hannibal interacted with people, he was ….a natural like he could keep everyone who he talked to interested in the conversation and Will found it quite entertaining honestly how everyone looked at Hannibal like he was an angel that you just had to talk to and look at.
Then everything stopped and Will wished to leave, but he couldn’t just leave because of Hannibal talking to another man, even if that man was a person Will despised more than anything in the world . Antony was his name and Hannibal and him had been friends for awhile and Will couldn’t stand him, he was always so touchy and close to Hannibal and Will couldn’t stand it, but Will didn’t understand why it bothered him so much, it wasn’t like him and Hannibal were dating and Hannibal was a grown man he could talk to anyone he liked.
But it still bothered Will nonetheless, was it because Antony was everything Will wasn’t, Funny, charming, charismatic everything that would fit Hannibal perfectly. That burning feeling went away leaving a cold feeling in Will heart, he suddenly wanted to Leave and that’s what he did, he went to find Alana “hey I’m gonna head out gotta get back to the dogs” Alana was to caught up in something Margot was saying to hear Will but she nodded saying a quick bye to him. Unlike Will who never said bye to Hannibal who had spent the rest of the night looking for Will , but could never find him.
**Smart sexy Lacy, I'm losing it lately
I feel your compliments like bullets on skin
Dazzling starlet, Bardot reincarnate
Well, aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist?**
Since the party and Will's rude exit he hasn’t been to one of his and Hannibal sessions in a while, and it was starting to way on him, everyone could tell even jack but Will ignored it and continued with life trying to not think of Hannibal, but he was losing his mind trying not to. When Will didn’t show up for another session Hannibal called him , it was late around eight o’clock when Will heard his phone ring and he answered it.
“ hello” Will said as he heard the soft breathing over the phone “ hello Will I’m calling to see if you were going to make it this week for one of our sessions seeing how you’ve missed the last few, jack has informed me you’ve been busy , so i will let you not showing up or canceling slide this time but I need to know if you are going to make it this time “ When Will heard Hannibal's accented voice that burning feeling came back and his throat got dry “uh…i probably won’t make it this week Hannibal I’m sorry “ Will said with a bit of a shaky voice trying to hide the nervousness.
**Ooh, I care, I care, I care
Like ribbons in your hair
My stomach's all in knots
You got the one thing that I want**
He heard Hannibal sigh and Will felt bad “ are you feeling alright will” Hannibal asked and Will swallowed nervously “ everything fine just haven’t been sleeping Well” He said still trying to hide the shakiness in his voice and Hannibal sighed again “ Alright well i hope to see you next time have a wonderful night Will” Hannibal said causing the burning feeling to burn even more “ you to Hannibal “ Will said before hanging up.
**Ooh, I try, I try, I try
Try to rationalize
People are people
But it's like you're made of angel dust**
Will knew he couldn’t keep ignoring Hannibal but he would damn Well try, he hadn’t been to a session in a month and it was kinda starting to get to him, he was having more nightmares and he couldn’t stop thinking of Hannibal everything was Hannibal and it was waying on him even more than he noticed “Will!” Jack said, pulling Him out of his thoughts “ sorry what?” Will said and Jack sighed “ I said why did Alana and Hannibal both call me saying you’re not going to your sessions with Hannibal you know the rules Will, do you wanna get fired?” Jack said sternly and Will shook his head. He knew Jack needed him but he also knew that Jack would fire him if he didn’t go see Hannibal.
Will sighed “ no, I’ve just been busy with cases and stuff, my mind never sleeps you know that.”
Jack shook his head putting a hand on Will shoulder “ just promise me you’ll start going back, I need you here and clear headed “ Jack said and Will nodded, finding it kinda funny he never was clear headed. But he knew if he didn’t go back Jack would hound him till he did and Will nodded “ i will i promise “
**Lacy, oh, Lacy, it's like you're out to get me
You poison every little thing that I do
Lacy, oh, Lacy, I just loathe you lately**
There Will was in Hannibal's waiting room waiting for Hannibal to finish his session with his last patient before Will. While He sat there he decided to come up with a plan, he was finally gonna tell Hannibal, he was gonna finally tell Hannibal how much he hated him, how much he loathed him, how much he hated his perfect hair and soothing voice and beautiful eyes, he was finally going to tell Hannibal….He loved him.
**And I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you
Yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you**
#will graham#hannigram#hannibal lecter#hannibal#Will is in alot of denial#he’s also jealous#nbc hannibal
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LUCID DREAMS
✎ … Miya Atsumu
word count: 5.2k
warnings: NSFW, pwp, daddy kink, a lot of degradation, spanking, choking, sexting, overstimulation, masturbation, he kinda spits in your mouth, just rough sex overall
All characters are 18+ !!!!
A/N: this is my first nsfw fic, so pls bear with me 🥺 I’m also dedicating this to @starboybokuto and @strawbericream for inspiring me and also bc they’re literally smut icons in the fandom and after writing this, I’m realizing just how hard it it to do and I just wanna appreciate them for all the effort they put in <3
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ
His moans were like honey, pouring from his sweet lips and into your ears, as his thrusts became erratic. He was close. The sounds of your own pleasure filled the room before he swallowed them up completely with his beautiful mouth. You were close. This space that was inhabited by you two was the only dimension where time didn’t exist. Nothing else mattered in this moment, except for each other. You were so, so, so, so, so clo-
“Wake up!”
Your roommate’s exclamation breaks you out of your lust-filled slumber with a jolt. You groan and silently curse her as details of the dream gradually come back to you; she’d have to make a run for it if she valued her life, or at least avoiding getting smacked in the face by the pillow you throw at her with impressive force.
“Y/N, what did I do? she whines. “You told me to wake you up. I only did what you said!”
“Literally fuck you, I was having a good dream,” you fire back.
“MAN if you don’t… anyway shouldn’t you be in class by now?” Your eyes widen as you fumble for your phone to check the time.
“Shit!” Usually, you wouldn’t have bothered showing up if you were running late, but this class took attendance, and you were already on the cusp between two letter grades. A menial attendance point could be the difference between maintaining your GPA or tarnishing it.
You wash up in record time, throw on some clothes, and shove your necessary belongings in your backpack before slinging it on your back. You don’t even have time to fill up your water bottle; you’d just have to purchase one on campus later. You pop in your earbuds, select a random playlist, and fly out the door.
You don’t stop until you reach the lecture hall. You try not to cringe as you push open the door, slinking your way in the back to find an open seat; luckily, there was one near the door so your humiliation was short-lived. When you finally sit down and situate yourself, you take a deep breath for the first time that morning and collect your thoughts.
As your mind wanders, memories of your erotic dream come back to you. The faintest of color tints your cheeks, and you shift slightly in your seat as you subtly cross your legs. You pull out your phone, preparing to fire a text at lightning speed. You need your boyfriend.
Y/N: i miss you
Atsumu: :))
Y/N: im not trying to gas ur big head up even more than it already is i’m just whore knee
Atsumu: OH????? aren’t you in class rn?
Y/N: i’d rather be choking on your fat cock tbh
Atsumu: naughty girl, why are you saying such things in the middle of class?
Y/N: what are you gonna do about it... choke me? spank me? make me cum over and over and over again?
Atsumu: Watch your mouth, baby...
Y/N: Ok...
Y/N: ...daddy.
Fighting the smile tugging at your lips, you set your phone on ‘do not disturb’ and refocus your attention on the professor’s droning voice. By the time lecture was over, you scramble out of the building, eager to make a quick call to your boyfriend so you could describe to him in specific detail everything you wanted him to do to you.
Alas, you heard the voices of your friends calling out to you, so you’re forced to sit through idle chit-chat until your next class starts. Of course, today was also a full day, so you would have to endure the rest of your classes, your position as a TA, and the study session your classmates were pulling together at the library for your next exam - which just so happened to be in two days, meaning you couldn’t opt out. At this rate, you wouldn’t be leaving campus until dark. And it was only 10 in the morning.
While you daydream in your next class, you’re broken out of your reverie by the realization that you had neglected to check your phone after effectively ending the conversation with Atsumu the way that you had. You unlock your phone, seeing that you have just one unread message from him - a photo.
You know what’s coming before you even open it, so you’re careful to ensure that your screen isn’t in anyone’s line of sight - luckily, you were sitting in the back again, so there aren’t any prying eyes over your shoulder. You turn down the brightness and open the conversation before practically salivating on the spot.
You have an idea of what exactly the photo was going to be of, but nothing could prepare you for the effect it had on you.
It’s evident that he had propped up his phone on something and taken the photo on self-timer. Bleached tufts of hair fell over his forehead as he winked back at you through the screen with his lips pursed as if he was going to kiss someone. The only thing he wore was a gold chain around his neck. He was flashing a peace sign with one hand, while the other was wrapped around a good sized erection.
You feel your mouth dry up and your thighs subconsciously squeeze together. The way this photo was triggering a physiological reaction from your body was astounding. You need this man, and you need him now. You whisper to your friend that you had to use the bathroom, that you might be gone for a while - it must have been the iced coffee going straight through you - and to let you know if you missed anything. You try not to trip over anyone’s legs in your haste to get to the restroom.
Since this was a fairly large building, there were multiple restrooms, and so you locate the one you know is always empty and secluded - the one below the main floor. Once you enter, you do a quick check in each stall to make sure you’re alone before locking the door. You go into the biggest stall and commence with your plan of action.
You take off your shirt and bra and neatly hang them on the hooks behind the stall door. The sudden exposure to the chilly air makes you shiver as your nipples harden in response. You then bring your phone up to your chest, so that your face isn't in frame and begin to record yourself lightly massaging your breasts. You make sure to softly moan Atsumu’s name when you pinch your nipple, rolling it between your thumb and index finger. After about thirty seconds, you promptly send the footage to your boyfriend.
He immediately starts facetiming you which causes your thighs to squeeze together expectantly. When you answer the call, you’re greeted with dark, lustful eyes and a shit-eating grin.
“I heard someone missed me today.” His tone is slightly mocking, indicative of something deeper underneath.
“I had a dream about you,” you inform him as you slowly begin to massage your breasts the way you had before.
“Yeah? What happened in your dream?” His eyes darken as he shrewdly observes the way you sigh as your fingers glide over your nipples. God, he wished he could just take them in between his teeth.
You bite your lip in response to his tone becoming increasingly huskier. “I dreamed about you… fucking me.” Your voice falters a bit as you suddenly feel a wave of shyness rush over you. Atsumu often had this effect on you - sure, there was no limit to the amount of things you had done together; however, he was still able to make you feel flustered, as if it was the first time all over again.
“How naughty,” he scoffs. “You love actin’ so innocent, but what would people say if they really knew what was goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours? What would they say if they saw what you were tellin’ me in the middle of class? Do ya know what they would say, dollface?”
You can’t bring yourself to respond, only managing a feeble shaking of your head.
“They would call you a whore. A filthy, depraved slut. And do ya know what sluts get?”
Again, another feeble shake.
“Nothing. Sluts get nothing,” he laughs mockingly as he angles his phone until you have an adequate view of the way he’s been stroking himself this entire time. “And now, dollface, you’re gonna have to watch me get myself off. I want your hands off of yourself entirely... If I catch you touchin’ yourself even once, you get nothing. But if you’re good, I might just play with ya later.”
You whimper at his order, but you have no choice; you had brought this upon yourself by getting him riled up with those texts in the first place. As you swallow thickly, he begins to jerk himself off - slowly at first, torturing you with each stroke as he looks directly through the camera and into your eyes. He then begins to pick up the pace as heavy pants and the occasional moan escapes from his mouth.
“See what ya did to me, baby? This is all because of you.” His breathing grows erratic as he edges closer and closer to his release. “And now look at you. Watchin’ a man jerk off in a public restroom, with your tits out, when you’re supposed to be in class like a good girl. Now tell me, does that sound like a good girl?”
You merely whimper in response.
“Answer me,” he practically growls. “Does. That. Sound. Like. A. Good. Girl.”
“No,” you whisper as you feel a surge of arousal rush to your core. You knew your panties would be suffering thoroughly by the time you returned to class.
“Then tell me, dollface. What. Are. You.” Each enunciation is emphasized with a hard stroke to his cock - the same way he would be thrusting into you. It takes absolutely everything in you not to sneak your hand down to your throbbing clit; he’d know if you did, he always did. The prospect of not being touched by him later was unthinkable, so you continue to helplessly watch him fuck his own hand.
“I’m a filthy whore, your filthy whore,” you whine in compliance as you watch him thrust into his hand a few more times before letting out a long, drawn out moan and spilling his release all over himself. You can’t help the moan that escapes your own lips as you take in the sight of his flushed face and heavy rising and falling of his chest.
“You actually listened to me for once? This is a surprise,” he chuckles once he recovers from his orgasm. “Hurry up and come over… I’ll fuck ya ‘til you can’t even remember your own name.”
•.｡.༺✩༻.｡.•
For the rest of the day, you hoped you were doing a relatively adequate job of hiding your arousal as you went about your responsibilities. You were literally counting down the seconds until you were finished with everything so you could meet up with Atsumu and let him fuck you like he promised. At one point, you caught yourself almost drooling during your group study session at the library. You took this as your cue to leave, so you politely excused yourself by letting the others know that it was time for you to leave as you had to get up early the next morning.
After what felt like the longest and, thanks to Atsumu, the most torturous day ever, you felt completely ravenous. From the second you had woken up, you had been straight up horny, and the fact that you hadn't been able to take care of it was driving you insane. You had been rushed all day, never having a moment to yourself, and when you did, Atsumu had specifically instructed you not to satisfy yourself the way you needed to be satisfied. It was unfair.
To make matters worse, you missed the train that would take you to Atsumu’s apartment as he lived quite a while away from your campus. The next train would be leaving in an hour, which was just too much for you at this point. Delay after delay. You grit your teeth in frustration as you weigh your options: you could wait another painstaking hour for the train that would inevitably take you to your dick appointment or you could spend a fortune by calling for a taxi and getting there right now. While you mentally calculate your finances, your clit throbs just slightly when you cross your legs, which causes you to throw all thoughts of being a penniless college student out the window in favor of getting fucked mercilessly as soon as possible.
•.｡.༺✩༻.｡.•
Of course the elevator in Atsumu’s apartment building was currently out of order at that moment, leaving you with no other choice but to climb the seven flights of stairs to his apartment. At this point, you feel like you’re running on some sort of primal instinct as you sprint up the stairs with the vigor possessed by only someone who’s about to be dicked down. By the time you reach his door, you’re already huffing and puffing, but your own exhaustion escapes your mind as you ring his doorbell impatiently. Once the door swings open, you’re greeted with the sight of your boyfriend smirking back at you.
The motherfucker wore nothing but loose gray sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips and the same gold chain around his neck from earlier. You chuck your backpack on the floor and throw yourself onto him, pressing your lips against his (minty?) ones. The kiss is sloppy and intense as you try to make him feel the desperation you had been forced to endure all day long.
Somehow, your clothes find themselves on the ground in a matter of seconds. He lightly slaps at your thigh, a signal for you to jump into his arms. When you do, your hands immediately find themselves tangled in his hair, and you tug at the roots lightly, earning a growl from him. You gasp and moan into his mouth when you feel his hands give your ass a good squeeze. He manages to carry you like this into his bedroom before gently dropping you onto his bed, where he palms himself above you as he gazes at your nude form. On god, you can literally see his dick print through his sweats, and it only fuels the wetness forming between your thighs.
“Atsumu, I’ve been waiting all fucking day long. Stop being an asshole and fuck me already like you promised,” you whine as you reach your hands up to rub them along his abdomen, relishing in the feeling of his abs beneath your fingertips. You were hoping that this would coax him into giving you what you want, but he merely ceases his actions and raises an eyebrow at you.
“Who do you think you are, talkin’ to me like that?” His eyes narrow, and he leans down so that he’s hovering directly above you. “Is my baby so goddamn horny that she actually forgot her manners?” His hand comes up to wrap around your throat, gradually squeezing it harder as he glares at you. “Looks like I’ll have to remind ya how to properly speak to me. Turn over - I want that ass up in the air.”
You pout as you obey his command and flip over on your knees so that your face is shoved into the pillow and your ass is sticking straight up for him, bracing yourself for what you know is about to come.
“You know the drill, since you wanna be such a goddamn slut - count for daddy.” Before you can respond, his hand collides with your left asscheek, causing you to yelp and moan, “One,” weakly into the pillow. The sting doesn’t last for very long, but you know better - by tomorrow, you won’t be able to sit properly.
He continues delivering powerful slaps to your ass and admires the way it jiggles with every smack and the redness blooming across the soft flesh. Every so often, he plunges two fingers into your now sopping heat, without warning. He removes them as quickly as he puts them in, causing you to whine in frustration. By the time you reach ten spanks, you’re babbling incoherently as you wiggle your hips in the air, clenching around nothing and desperate for anything to fill you up.
He flips you back over on your back and scoffs at your desperation. “Have you learned your lesson, whore?” It’s not a question - it’s a demand.
As much as you want to do or say whatever he wants so that he can fuck you already, it’s always more fun to see what happens when you piss him off. You jut out your lower lip in a pout and stare up at him defiantly. “No.”
Before you know it, you’re being flipped back onto your stomach. Another round of brutal spankings are delivered to your asscheeks, causing tears to prick your eyes as the burning pain sets in. You’re going to be sore for the next week.
“Leave it to a whore to be so mouthy,” he growls as he flips you over on your back again and thrusts two fingers into your cunt. “But you like this, don’t ya? You like pissin’ me off, because you like getting your pretty little ass spanked and you like being choked, whether it’s by my hand or on my cock. I should shut you up with my cock, since you wanna be so mouthy. Tell me, do ya like choking on cock, whore?”
“Yes, daddy,” you moan quite loudly. The combination of his degrading words and consistent thrusting of his fingers in and out of your pussy was sending you into a haze.
“Of course you fucking do,” he spits. “You told me so yourself when you were sitting all innocent in class. In fact, what else did ya tell me?” His thumb was now brushing vigorously against your clit during each thrust, causing your legs to shake violently. The whimpers falling from your lips grow louder as you focus on the buildup slowly forming in the pit of your stomach. However, your lack of response doesn’t impress him. He immediately pulls his fingers out and slaps your pussy, eliciting a jerk from your entire body and a drawn-out moan from the surprising sensation.
“Answer me, fuckdoll. Or you get nothing.” He literally shoves his fingers back in and continues his relentless thrusting, filling the room with the squelching sounds of your sloppy cunt. You scramble to remember the contents of the lewd texts you had sent him earlier that day, but your brain is so hazy from the orgasm you know is about to hit you, that you’re stumbling through your words.
“I-I said something about w-wanting to choke on your cock-” your sentence is cut off with a long moan as he applies direct pressure on your clit with his thumb.
“We established that already, dollface,” he scoffs. “What. Else.”
“I d-don’t remember,” you wail and thrash your head side to side against the pillow. Your release is so close, you can taste it. “Daddy, please let me cum - I’m going to cum!”
“Don’t remember? That’s a shame,” he remarks as he completely stops his actions and pulls his fingers out, yet again. You let out a scream of frustration at the fact that your orgasm was just cruelly ripped away from you. “Let’s see, maybe we need a refresher.” To your disbelief, he pulls out his phone and scrolls to the conversation from that morning. “Hmm, you told me to choke and spank you… Well, I’ve already done both of those, so what else?” His eyes narrow down at your quivering form and, to your relief, he puts his fingers back in you and continues thrusting. What was the last thing you told me, whore?”
“I-I told you to m-make me cum over and over a-again,” you gasp out as one final sharp thrust sends you completely over the edge. Before you know it, you’re screaming his name as you crash down from your high.
You moan in bliss as you feel the utter fucking release of the tension that had been building up inside you all day long. However, you barely have time to relax before you realize Atsumu’s still going at it in your now sensitive pussy.
“Tsumu,” you gasp as you feel your body jerking in response to the oversensitivity. “It’s s-so much… I-I c-can’t-”
The motherfucker literally laughs as he watches your face contort from the sheer overwhelming pleasure. “What? You asked for it. You’re droolin’ already and all I’ve given you are my fingers.” His jeering words ignite the fire building up for the second time as tears stream down your face from the overstimulation. “You tellin’ me you want me to stop?” He stuffs a third finger inside, stretching you even further and eliciting even more delicious cries from your lips. It felt like his fingers were thrusting even harder and faster, if that was possible.
“N-no, keep g-going,” you wail before you’re hit with your second orgasm of the night. All that you’re able to get out is a blubbering combination of “daddy” and “Tsumu” as your vision goes white and you hear the roaring of your own blood in your ears.
Atsumu finally slides his fingers out of your drenched pussy, eyes fixating on the string from your fluids attached to them. He takes advantage of your still panting mouth to stuff his fingers in between your lips. “You know what to do.” His eyes darken as he watches you desperately suck on his fingers, tasting your own essence on them. After he feels that you’ve effectively done a thorough job of cleaning them off for him, he smirks and pulls them out before leaning down so that he’s hovering above you.
“Good girl. Open wide for your reward.” Once you comply, he works up a good amount of saliva and lets it fall in your mouth, directly on your tongue. You moan as you relish the taste of his spit and swallow it all. “Thank you daddy,” you beam up at him.
He draws himself back in satisfaction as he pulls his sweatpants off, freeing his rock hard length and letting it slap against his abdomen. As spent as you are from your previous orgasms, there’s nothing you’re craving more than for him to be balls deep in your tight pussy. He just remains where he is, stroking himself as he watches you grow impatient for him to do something already.
“Tsumu,” you plead in the calmest tone you can muster. “Please fuck me already.”
He merely continues to pump his cock, much to your dismay. “How much do you want my big cock, whore?” Again, it isn’t a question.
“I want it more than anything in the whole wide world,” you beg. Each stroke to his cock only serves to increase your frustration.
“Prove it.”
You let out a groan and proceed to rub your tits, squeezing them together and rolling your nipples in between your fingers. In your attempt to please him, you notice the way Atsumu slightly picks up the pace of his strokes as he watches you play with your tits.
But it still isn’t enough for him.
“You can do better than that.”
Fucking hell. You let go of your breasts and spread your legs, hooking your hands behind your knees so that he has a perfect view of your pretty, spoiled pussy. Your cheeks burn as you bring your hand down to spread your lips, offering him access to your slick hole. “C’mon, Tsumuuuuu… I’m all good and ready for you.”
Atsumu swallows thickly and finally relents. He grabs your thighs and holds them open as he positions himself at your entrance and pushes into you. You’re so wet from your previous orgasms that he slides in easily, burying himself to the brim as he loses himself in the feeling of being fully sheathed inside you and lets out a long moan. It feels like your pussy is literally swallowing him up as he bottoms out. Your eyes roll back as you feel yourself being deliciously, oh so wonderfully, stretched. His fingers were heavenly on their own, but nothing in the world could compare to the feeling of his thick cock hitting all the right spots in you.
“Fuck, yeahhh. You’re so tight, fuck. How are ya so tight?” Atsumu’s breathing is heavy as he squeezes his eyes shut, relishing the sensation of your walls clenching around him. He starts thrusting slowly, checking your face for any signs of discomfort. However, you grow impatient and start wiggling your hips, urging him to go faster. He scoffs and slaps your breast in response. “Be patient, dollface. You’ll take what I give ya.” You whimper, but cease your actions. Atsumu must have apparently decided that was enough for him as well, because he picks up his speed.
His hips slap against you from the brutal way he fucks you into oblivion. His strokes are deep and hard, causing you to turn into a sobbing mess. The room is filled with the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass and your cries begging him to not stop and go even harder. The way he pounds into you has your entire body rocking back and forth as you moan at the feeling of his pelvis meeting you with each movement.
“M-more, daddy!” Drool is seeping out of the corners of your open mouth and your eyes are glazed over from the sheer feeling of him being balls deep in you.
“You love being fucked like this, don’t ya?” Atsumu’s grunts fill your ears and you clench even tighter at his words. “An’ it’s never enough for you. Insatiable whore.” He delivers a particularly sharp thrust at the word “whore” which makes you blubber nonsensically. You want to tell him that you’re his insatiable whore, but your words are jumbling together as all your senses are devoted to the way his cock is slamming in and out of your cunt.
At this rate, you’re about to cum again in no time. Atsumu picks up on this and makes you wrap your legs around him so he can pound into you even deeper from this new angle. The tip of his dick now hits your g spot with each brutal thrust, making you literally scream in delirium. He’s more than pleased at your response, which is why he suddenly halts his movements and tilts his head at you in the cockiest manner. You want to scream and swear at him in every language possible, but you’re in such disbelief that all you can muster is the dirtiest glare at him. He laughs at the way your hips involuntarily move around him.
“Look at ya, you’re so fuckin’ cockhungry. I’m not even doing anything and your pussy’s tryna suck me in.” Before you can protest, he suddenly pulls out so that just the tip of his dick is inside you and slams back in with no warning. He’s back to thrusting into you, hitting your g spot with immense force.
Before you know it, the knot that had been forming in your stomach completely snaps. His eyes train on the way your tongue lolls out of your mouth and your eyes cross together as your mind goes completely blank when you cum yet again. Your pussy clenches around him, causing him to swear profusely, and your fluids gush out involuntarily. Your cheeks are flushed and your chest is covered in the sheen from your sweat. He lets go of your thighs and leans over to meet your lips with his, never stopping the steady rhythm of his thrusts. You pant into his mouth as the sound of your heartbeat pounds in your ears and the cool metal of his chain dangles against your skin.
“C’mon, make that face again for me.” Atsumu begins to rub your clit harshly, eliciting a high-pitched mewl from you as your entire body shudders.
“I-I-I…” Your teeth are clenched and your eyes are squeezed shut as pressure fills your head from the overwhelming sensation spreading throughout your body. It’s all too much, and you’re not sure you can cum again.
“Give it to me one more time, pretty girl. I know you can do it, I gotcha.” Atsumu starts sucking on the sweet spot behind your ear and continues to fuck you with the vigor of a possessed man. The bedframe shakes uncontrollably from the way he pummels into you. His thumb rubbing furiously at your clit sends shock waves of pleasure throughout your overly sensitive body and before you know it, the familiar pressure is building up in your stomach again.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my go-,” you chant as your eyes roll back in your head and you scream out his name while your vision goes completely white. Atsumu groans at the feeling of your tight walls milking his cock for everything he has. Your whole body is shaking, and you’re so wracked with pleasure that you can scarcely process the way his thrusts grow sloppy as he gets closer and closer to his own release.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His groans fill the room as he erratically pummels into you to chase his high.
“Cum inside me, daddy. Want you to fill me all the way up.” Your words are slurring together at this point due to the heady arousal clouding your mind, but they’re enough to tip Atsumu over the edge. He lets out a moan and his hips stutter to a stop as you’re overcome with the feeling of his cock twitching inside you and suddenly filling you to the brim with his cum.
Atsumu collapses on top of you and pants heavily in an attempt to catch his breath. The two of you are silent for a good few minutes before he gathers whatever strength is left in him to pull out of you. He remains somewhat on top of your utterly spent body and peppers kisses all over your face. “You good?”
“Never better,” you reach a hand up to stroke his hair, and he hums contentedly in response before rolling over to your side. He throws an arm over you, hugging you to his body and just stares at you lovingly.
“I wasn’t too rough on ya, was I?” His hand reaches down to your ass to rub soothingly at the marks left by him.
“You were perfect, babe.” You grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his own. “I’m sleeping good tonight, thanks to you.” He smiles at this and positions himself so that his head is tucked in the crook of your neck. He closes his eyes for a while as he savors the feeling of you stroking his hair and planting kisses on the top of his head.
“Babe?”
“Hm?”
“Ya wanna order food?” His eyes are still shut and you chuckle. “Yeah.”
“Who’s callin’?” He snuggles a bit further into you.
“Not it.” His eyes open and he looks up at you before literally pouting. You can’t believe this is the same man you were calling “daddy” just a few minutes ago.
“Why do I hafta do it,” he grumbles.
“Sorry that my phone’s out there and yours is literally at your feet because you wanted to be theatrical and ‘teach me a lesson.’” You smile as he continues to grumble under his breath, but pushes himself up to grab his phone and dial the number of your favorite takeout place. “Love youuuuuu,” you sing-song and flash a toothy grin at him.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I love ya too.” He rolls his eyes and lies back down next to you as he speaks to the worker on the phone. The entire time he absentmindedly plays with your hands as you sigh contentedly and bask in the feeling of being with him.
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ
masterlist ｡･:*:･ﾟ rules
#im not used to writing smut oR full length scenarios so this was quite the feat#like i think an actual tear slipped out once#i hope u all enjoy teehee#miya atsumu#atsumu x reader#atsumu imagines#atsumu scenarios#atsumu hcs#atsumu smut#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu hcs#haikyuu writing#haikyuu smut#haikyuu
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Dude, just get out! (we both live here dumbass!) (sterek fic, smut, college au)
Stiles was initially excited to go to college. The freedom aspect of it in particular is what Stiles was the most excited about. Don’t get him wrong, he loves his dad, of course, he does. He didn’t mind living with him, he liked seeing him on a daily basis. He’s all Stiles has. Well, Stiles has Scott, but Scott is attending university in Arizona of all places. Meanwhile, Stiles is going to NYU, so, there’s not a lot of opportunities to see Scott or his father in person.
Not to fret though! Stiles was ready like Freddy to meet new people and, hopefully, make new friends along the way. That’s what college is all about. Supposedly, Stiles wouldn’t know but if all the movies are to be believed then that’s what college is all about.
He and his dad spent days driving up to NYU and then spent hours moving Stiles’ belongings into his off-campus apartment and unpacking. Stiles got a full-ride —thank god— so there’s extra money for him to be able to live in an actual, nice apartment instead of the dorms. His roommate was nowhere to be seen at the time, but that was fine with Stiles. He’d have plenty of opportunities to get to know him. Stiles’ dad left to stay in a hotel for the night because there was no way he was starting the trek back to Beacon Hills this late in the day. So, Stiles was left to his own devices in his new apartment.
Well, he was for about twenty minutes, then his roommate came back and...he’s kind of a dick.
He has a resting bitch face and he hardly likes to talk. Stiles doesn’t know if it’s because the guy doesn’t like him or if he’s just the quiet type. He’s starting to think that the guy doesn’t like him because every time Stiles starts talking he looks annoyed. The dick’s name is Derek and coincidentally, he also goes to NYU. He did tell Stiles his major, but wouldn’t tell Stiles what his favorite color was, which is just plain rude.
Anyway, Stiles isn’t going to let this Debbie downer ruin his college experience, no way!
Stiles decides the best thing to do is to just ignore him. Which is hard to do because the guy takes up so much space, like, he’s actually huge. And he always seems to be in the apartment when Stiles comes back from classes. Which is weird because, dude, don’t you have classes to go to? Nonetheless, he’s always there which means Stiles has to see him all the time and Derek can continue being an asswipe for no reason.
For example, Stiles sometimes forgets to wash the dishes —sue him!— and Derek will chew him out for it. Stiles didn’t know Derek was such a neat freak, but now that he knows he’ll leave more things laying around because Stiles can also be a dick when he wants to be. Maybe Derek should learn to be more personable, then Stiles wouldn’t have to go out of his character by doing such petty things. They’ve only been living together for about a week and a half and there’s already a turf battle going on. Stiles isn’t sure who’s going to win this battle, however, the sight of Derek tripping over one of Stiles’ shoes and the subsequent curse that flies out of his mouth makes Stiles not even care in the end.
--------------
After about a month, it's way more than just a battle. The turf battle has evolved into a war and now, no one is safe.
Derek continues being yucky and Stiles continues to do things to intentionally annoy him, except, now Derek is doing things to annoy Stiles. Like, eating all of Stiles’ Pop-Tarts or, and this is a cruel one, flushing the toilet while Stiles is in the shower. Unfortunately for Stiles, Derek buys gross ass healthy food for himself, and Stiles couldn’t choke down that food to save his life. So, what can one do to even the playing field?
Derek is sitting on the couch in the living room, watching some show about underwater caves. Stiles normally wouldn’t stick around because, despite what Derek might think, Stiles really doesn’t enjoy being talked down to by an abnormally grumpy man. This time though, Stiles sits down beside him. He can see Derek watching him from the corner of his eye, probably waiting to see what Stiles is going to do. Stiles likes to instill fear in Derek. Normally he acts like Stiles is nothing more than a bug he wants to squish under his overly expensive boot, but now? He’s worried. He should be. Stiles is going to pull out his ultimate weapon.
“So, whatcha watchin’?” Stiles asks, plastering a smile onto his face.
Derek gives him a suspicious look. “Why do you want to know?”
Stiles shrugs, smile still present. “I’m curious. This show seems interesting.”
Derek gives him an incredulous eyebrow raise, which is super insulting. Derek thinks all Stiles watches is Harry Potter, Star Wars, and superhero movies. Which is just wrong. But that’s okay. Stiles thinks all Derek watches are documentaries about how to be a functioning human in society, which, newsflash Derek, still needs working on.
A few minutes go by before Stiles decides to speak again. “So, you haven’t told me about your family.”
“That’s intentional.”
Stiles laughs. Derek thinks he can scare Stiles into leaving him alone. Unfortunately for Derek, Stiles has zero self-preservation skills.
“Come on Derek. We’re roommates. Don’t you want us to get along?”
Derek didn’t dignify that with a response —rude!— so Stiles speaks again.
“My dad is the sheriff of my hometown. Been that way for as long as I can remember. My best friend, his name is Scott, wants to be a vet. He goes to The University of Arizona. After that he’s not sure where he’ll go to get his DVM but he’s open to anything.”
Derek turns the volume up on the tv and Stiles bites his lip to stifle his laughter.
Ah, Derek. That won’t help.
“At first I was kinda skeptical about Scott becoming a vet. I mean, he’s a puppy himself, and I love him to death, but sometimes he’s ditzy. He’s a ditzy brunette. But after working at Deaton’s, Deaton is the town vet, for years he’s proved me wrong,” Stiles risks a glance at Derek and he’s scowling so hard Stiles is kind of afraid it’ll get stuck that way forever. “He and his girlfriend, Allison, are kind of having issues with long-distance but they’re high school sweethearts so I’m confident that they’ll work through it. They’re so cute together that it’s actually kinda nauseating. Like, sometimes their sappiness makes me sick to my stomach. I wonder when they’ll get ma-”
Derek abruptly stands up and walks out the room, slamming and locking his bedroom door, as if Stiles is the boogeyman who he’s trying to keep out.
Stiles snickers and grabs the remote to change the channel. Derek gets annoyed when Stiles talks, well, he shouldn’t have started this war then (it doesn’t matter that technically Stiles started it). Stiles has weaponized his ability to talk people’s ears off. So, Derek better watch out.
Hopefully, Derek won’t murder Stiles in his sleep.
--------------
Okay, so, Stiles thinks maybe this whole turf war thing is getting out of hand.
It’s been a total of 3 and a half months since they’ve been living together and Derek and Stiles are on edge around each other 24/7. Stiles has to shower around eleven o’clock at night so that Derek won’t burn him alive by flushing the toilet. Derek doesn’t have access to Stiles’ snacks anymore because Stiles hid them in the back of his closet. Derek stays in his room all day just so that Stiles won't have any opportunities to talk to him. They’re at an impasse, but Stiles has a feeling that the worst has yet to come.
A really bad feeling.
Stiles comes back from a particularly grueling day of classes to see Derek sitting on the couch...and he’s smirking.
That doesn’t bode well for Stiles.
“Hello, Stiles.”
“Uh, hey dude. Why do you look like a supervillain?”
“‘Cause I have a surprise for you.”
Yeah, that definitely didn’t sound good.
“Actually, I am a-okay. I really don’t need the surprise. I appreciate it though,” Stiles tries to make his way towards his room but Derek keeps talking.
“I normally don’t snoop through people’s things, it’s really not in my character, but after you left to go out last night, I heard some weird noises coming from your room. I was trying to ignore it at first, but after a while I went to see what it was. I was going to mention it this morning but you woke up before I did and by the time I had woken up you were already in class.”
Stiles had stopped in his tracks but he still hasn’t turned around to face Derek, because if Derek is going where Stiles thinks he’s going, Stiles is going to need to be able to book it into his bedroom as soon as possible.
Derek didn’t seem too perturbed by Stiles’ silence since he continues with his story. “Imagine my surprise when I found out that it was your laptop making that noise. Now, I wasn’t surprised by the fact that porn was playing, but what I was surprised at-”
Oh god.
“-was that the video you were watching was titled ‘bear fucks twink with huge cock’. And now I can’t help but question your hatred towards me.”
Stiles’ face is burning. He’s never been so embarrassed in his life, which is really a great feat because Stiles doesn’t get embarrassed by much. It’s not that Stiles didn’t notice Derek was hot, like, come on now, Derek is gorgeous. He’s not that much taller than Stiles but the size of his biceps? They’re easily the size of Stiles’ thigh. Derek is bigger than Stiles in every aspect.
Well, he’s not sure about every aspect. Stiles has never seen Derek’s dick outright, but he’s seen him wear sweatpants, and ooh boy, that bulge gives Stiles the impression that Derek is hung like a horse.
Stiles still hates Derek because Derek still has his asshole-ish ways. Case in point: right the fuck now. But, you can hate someone and still want to fuck them, right? Hate sex exists.
Derek is patiently waiting for Stiles to respond, and Stiles has never been good at staying silent, so it’s only a matter of time.
Stiles finally turns around to face Derek and clears his throat. “That- that means nothing. People watch shit like that all the time. Plus, you hardly qualify as a bear.”
It’s a weak excuse but, hey, Stiles is grasping at straws here.
Derek tilts his head to the side in agreement. “True, but if that was the case, why do you seem so nervous?”
Stiles can’t think of a reasonable response in time and Derek knows it.
Derek smirks again and Stiles really wants to knee him in the dick.
“Do you wanna fuck me?”
Stiles narrows his eyes at Derek. What the fuck is his endgame here? Why is he being such a dick?
Oh yeah, because Derek is a fucking asshole.
“Fine,” Stiles says through gritted teeth. “I find you attractive. I watch porn about big, hairy men fucking twinks because I want you to fuck me. Are you happy now? Jackass.”
Stiles storms into his room and slams the door. That’s a perfect example of why people can’t be pretty and nice. It’s genetically impossible.
Stiles lets out a sigh and dumps his backpack on his bed before stripping out of his clothes and getting into the shower. He stands under the spray for ten minutes, just praying to the cosmic gods out there that a black hole will appear and suck the whole human race into nothingness. After waiting for a few more minutes, and his prayers going unanswered, he washes himself then gets out to dry off. He wraps the towel around his waist and opens the door to find Derek standing outside his bathroom door. He shrieks (a very manly shriek by the way) and covers his chest with his arms, not that that’ll hide much.
“Derek, what the fuck are you doing?”
Derek’s eyes do the slowest sweep in fucking existence down Stiles’ body and Stiles feels his cheeks flush. Ugh, why are the cutest guys always assholes?
“I came to apologize. I was being a dick-”
“What else is new?” Stiles interrupts. Stiles is rewarded with another smirk.
“-and I took it too far. I’m sorry I embarrassed you.”
Stiles looks at Derek for a second. They’ve never apologized to each other when they did shit, and even though Stiles didn’t take it as far as Derek did, Stiles can’t stand here and act like he wasn’t also an asshole.
Stiles sighs. “I’m sorry too. I was also kind of a dick. Not as much as you, but still.”
Derek laughs a little, and Jesus H. Christ, how is a laugh sexy? “Apology accepted.”
Stiles holds his hand out for a handshake. Derek puts his hand in Stiles’ and they shake on their newfound not-friendship-but-also-maybe-not-complete-dicks-to-each-other-ship.
“So,” Derek starts after they drop their hands. “wanna have sex?”
Stiles might’ve actually choked on his own fucking spit, because what?
“What?”
“I asked if you wanted to have sex.”
“Where is this even coming from? You hate my guts. Every time I talk you look like you’re going in for a root canal.”
Stiles is so confused, he’s also getting hornier by the minute, but right now, the confusion is outweighing the horniness.
“I don’t hate you. Yeah you talk a lot, and it was so annoying at first, sometimes it still is, but I got used to your incessant chatter.”
Stiles knows he looks dumb, his mouth is gaping and everything. “I think maybe there was something in the water because I must be high. We’ve lived together for over 3 months and you’re telling me that you actually want to have sex with me?”
Derek shrugs. “Yeah. Just because you can be kinda annoying that doesn’t mean you’re not cute. Plus, people have sex all the time, that doesn’t mean we have to, like, date or whatever.”
Stiles rolls his eyes. Derek’s so romantic, how has Stiles been able to resist jumping his bones for this long?
“You just embarrassed the hell out of me, why would I ever want to have sex with you?” Never mind the fact that Stiles definitely does want to have sex with him.
“Maybe you don’t. If not, then fine. We can just go back to how things were. If you do, then we’ll have a great time.”
Stiles is still struggling to wrap his mind around all of this. Derek wants to have sex with him? In what universe does that make sense?
Apparently in this one.
Stiles does this sort of shrug that basically portrays well, what the fuck? Okay then. “Okay. I guess this is happening then.”
Derek smirks for like the fiftieth time in thirty seconds and if Stiles was a stronger man he definitely would’ve kneed Derek in the dick, but clearly, Stiles is weak.
Very, very weak.
“My room or yours?” Derek asks.
“Mine. Since it’s right there,” Stiles points behind Derek and, lo and behold, there’s Stiles’ bed.
Grabbing Stiles’ hand in a surprisingly gentle gesture, Derek walks the three feet from the bathroom to the bed to lay Stiles down.
Derek gets on top of the bed and is sitting on his knees by Stiles’ feet. He pulls his shirt off like he’s in Magic Mike or something before throwing it onto the floor without a care in the world. Jesus, it’s like his muscles have muscles. Stiles starts feeling a little insecure about his body. He’s got muscles, but, he’s not, like, ripped like Derek is. Stiles likes to think he has somewhat of a swimmer’s body.
Looming over him like a fucking creeper, Derek stares down at Stiles. “You know, you’re very pretty.”
Stiles refuses to admit that he blushes at that because he’s not pretty. If anything he’s handsome, some may even say gorgeous.
“Can you just get on with it?” Stiles throwing a scowl in Derek’s direction.
“Bossy. I kinda like that,” he strips his sweatpants off and throws them down too. Now he’s only in a pair of gray boxer briefs and, god, Stiles wants to suck his dick so badly. Which is weird because he’s really not all that experienced with blowjobs, he’s given maybe two blowjobs in his life. Whatever, Derek has a great dick okay?
Derek tugs at the towel around Stiles’ waist. “Is this okay?”
Stiles nods and then the towel is gone, and Stiles is laid bare for Derek to gaze at his leisure. And boy does Derek gaze. He does another slow sweep down Stiles’ body, except this time it’s even more intense because now Stiles is naked.
“You’re not a virgin right?” Derek asks while rummaging through Stiles’ bedside drawer and pulling out the lube. First of all, it’s rude to go through people’s stuff! Second of all, how the hell did Derek know his lube was there? Although, where else would lube be?
“Nope. There will be no deflowering of the Stiles today. Sorry to disappoint.”
Derek shrugs before popping open the lube. “I’m not one of those weirdos who pops a boner at the thought of popping someone’s cherry.”
Stiles chuckles, like actually chuckles. Who knew Derek was even capable of being funny?
Stiles pulls his legs up and hooks his hands behind his knees. The position exposes Stiles’ hole to the extreme and it makes Stiles blush. Just because he’s not a virgin doesn’t mean that he doesn’t get nervous or embarrassed during sex.
Derek knee-walks closer to Stiles and squirts some lube onto his fingers. He puts one hand on Stiles’ right thigh while the other one gently and slowly breaches his entrance. Fuck, his fingers are thick. Thicker than Stiles’ that’s for sure. Stiles definitely isn’t shy about fingering. He fingers himself all the time, but it’s been a while since someone else’s fingers were up there. Stiles is nervous and excited about it all.
Derek doesn’t spend too much time with the one finger, quickly adding a second one and that’s when it starts feeling good. Derek’s fingers are about an inch away from his prostate and Stiles is about to curse him out until Derek presses both fingers against his prostate and Stiles has to bite his lip to stop the loud ass moan that almost escaped his mouth. Judging by the look on Derek’s face, he knows he touched Stiles’ prostate, and being the asshole that he is, he has a cocky smile on his face.
After scissoring those two fingers inside Stiles for a few minutes, Derek adds a third finger. The stretch is definitely there, but hey, Stiles likes a little pain with sex. He can be kinky sometimes.
“Okay. I’m ready, come on,” Stiles says. He was starting to get impatient. He just wants to get dicked down already, damn.
Derek gently removes his fingers and gets off the bed to pick up his sweatpants. He reaches into the pocket and retrieves a condom out. Stiles’ mouth drops.
“So you just knew I’d have sex with you?”
“I didn’t know. I just hoped.”
That smarmy little bastard.
Derek gets back in bed and, finally, removes his briefs and...
Holy mother of god.
Well, maybe not the mother of god. That’s blasphemous as fuck. But! The sentiment is the same because wow. Stiles is glad he didn’t knee him in the dick because that dick is too gorgeous to cause serious injury to. He’s not like porn star big, but it is big and long too. And it’s uncut, which Stiles has a weird sort of kink about. He loves uncut cocks. Yeah, that’s a good-looking cock right there.
Derek unwraps the condom and rolls it onto his cock. He then grabs the bottle of lube that he placed on the bed and squirts more out before slathering a generous amount onto said cock. He makes Stiles move his hands before replacing them with one of his own, the other is at the base of his cock, lining it up to Stiles’ hole.
“You ready baby?” Derek asks.
“Call me baby again and I’ll dropkick you in the throa- oh fuck.”
Of course, Derek chose when Stiles was mid-threat to start pushing his cock inside. Geez, that is seriously a big cock, even the fingering didn’t make it burn any less. Derek gently pushes his cock in deeper before pulling it out, then he pushes it in a little deeper than he did at first before pulling it back out again. He repeats that until his cock is seated all the way inside, his balls to Stiles’ ass. Then he stops and waits. There’s sweat gathering above Derek’s eyebrow and some is even rolling down his temple. Needless to say, Derek isn’t as unaffected as he’s trying to be. Which makes Stiles feel kind of great actually.
“Okay, you can move now,” Stiles informs Derek. And when Stiles says Derek goes to town, he really means that.
Derek puts his other hand behind Stiles’ left knee and pulls out all the way, not even the tip is inside, before thrusting back in. Hard.
Stiles’ breath gets forced out of him at the movement. This truly is hate sex, kinda. Derek said he didn’t hate Stiles, but he certainly doesn’t like him all that much. At least, not yet. Who knows what will stem from this. That’s something to think about when Derek isn’t pounding him into the mattress.
Derek delivers a thrust that nails Stiles’ prostate dead on and Stiles makes this super embarrassing sound, like a high-pitched keen. He knows he’s not going to live that down after this.
After that, Derek is consistent with the hard abuse on Stiles’ prostate, and Stiles is getting close to orgasm embarrassingly fast. He isn’t too sure he’ll be able to last much longer. Although, Derek doesn’t seem like he’s going to be able to either. If the grunts and groans he’s letting out are anything to go by.
“Unh, fuck. Derek-!”
“Yeah, you’re gonna come?”
Stiles frantically nods his head and grabs his own cock to start stroking himself. Derek thrusts harder if that’s even possible, and within a few seconds, Stiles is coming all over his stomach.
“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek groans and thrusts one, two, three more times before stopping with a deep, guttural moan. He almost sounds like an actual bear and Stiles can’t help the giggle that escapes him.
Derek gives him a weird look but his lip quirks up in a maybe sort of smile. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh nothing,” Stiles gives him a shit-eating grin.
And since it’s already been established that Derek is an asshole, he grinds and his cock brushes against Stiles’ oversensitive prostate causing Stiles’ whole body to convulse. He slaps Derek’s arm.
Derek pulls out and lets go of Stiles’ legs. They’re sore from being in the same position for so long but Stiles can’t even care. He’s sated and all he wants to do now is take a nap. Stiles stretches his whole body like a cat while Derek disposes of the condom.
“Okay, that was fun. If you want to annoy me, I’ll be in my room.” And with that, Derek walks out of Stiles’ room to go to his own.
Derek was definitely a dick, but Stiles could deal with him. Especially if they continue to fuck like that.
Holy (not) mother of god indeed.
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Caught
A companion piece to @hopemakesstuff‘s works “Protecting Assets” and “Role Reversal”, this one is tied into our friend group’s Shifter!Makoto AU! In which everyone’s favorite lucky boy can (somewhat) control his ability to change his size, and all the shenanigans that ensue as a result.
Warnings: Contains spoilers for chapter two of DR1.
(Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid—!)
He’s practically mumbling those words to himself in a feverish mantra as he forces himself to hurry down the tiled hallway of Hope’s Peak Academy.
(Need to find somewhere to hide—!)
Makoto is trembling, panting from the effort of making his way through the school— although it would normally be a simple task, it was certainly anything but now that he was stuck at a meager three inches tall. Despair hung heavy over his head as what would ordinarily be a few minutes’ walk to the first floor classrooms had already taken him… what, twenty minutes at this brisk pace? Thirty? It felt like an eternity had passed, and yet he still had a ways to go.
The dining hall was closer, certainly, but it was also almost certain that everyone would be gathered there for the breakfast meeting.
He feels guilty for missing it. Just one more reason to scold himself— he should’ve eaten last night. Should have gotten some rest. Shouldn’t have worn himself ragged, because now he’s stuck at his most vulnerable in a school full of other students who could (and maybe even would) kill him without a second thought. Maybe even by accident, and that’s somehow an even more repulsive thought.
The only other student who even remotely knows about his… condition… is Kyoko Kirigiri. Not of his own volition, of course, but she’d figured it out a lot quicker than he’d expected.
…No, there was yet another person who knew. Had known, since they had gone to school together since they were children.
But there isn’t any point in making himself even more depressed by thinking about her. Not right now. Either way, she can’t help him now— and he can’t rely on finding Kyoko to help him, not when she’s likely still with the others in the dining hall. He can’t risk exposing himself to everyone else like this.
For a brief moment, his thoughts go quiet, having finally exhausted themselves.
(It’s okay. I’m almost to the classroom. I can just… hide in there under the teacher’s desk or something, wait to be able to shift back up to normal. And it wouldn’t be a lie to say that my stomach was hurting this morning—)
“Puhuhu~! And wheeeere do you think you’re going, little mister lucky student?”
Makoto yelps as an all-too-familiar figure pops out from seemingly nowhere— but this time, Monokuma towers over him, making the already-terrifying headmaster seem even more like a horrible monster than a cute little bear plushie.
Monokuma leans down and crosses his stubby arms as best as he’s able, still chuckling all the while. “I’ll admit, it’s kiiiiinda cute watchin’ you scurry around like that.~”
Makoto winces and takes an involuntary step back, gulping as the headmaster’s sharp teeth come closer into view. “I— I, um. I’m… going to the classroom…”
The bear pats his cheek thoughtfully, that unsettling grin still a mere foot away. “Ahhh, don’t wanna go to the dining hall, huuuuh? Smart move! Don’t wanna accidentally make one of your classmates a murderer, ‘cause. Yooou know.~ It would be such a shame if someone were to step on ya, or— ohhhh, how horrid! If you wound up as someone’s lunch. How cruel! Gahahaha!”
A chill runs up Makoto’s spine, and it takes all of his willpower to not fall back in fear at that obnoxiously-loud laughter. Thankfully, though, Monokuma gets out of his face as he straightens up.
“Ahhh… I should proooobably let you go. After all, wellllll… just try not to get caught, eh? Puhuhu!”
And once again, the bear is taking off fast enough for Makoto’s head to spin, still left confused over what Monokuma had meant— until the sound of footsteps in the distance catches his attention. Coming from further down the hallway…
Makoto suddenly tenses, his face blanching. He recognizes the sound of the voices drawing ever closer, and even at this distance, it’s easy to see just who’s coming his way.
Byakuya… and, trailing behind him… Toko.
...No. Judging from the obnoxious laughter resounding through the school hallway… that would be Genocide Jack. Great.
(Gghk--! How did I not hear them getting closer--?!)
Makoto furiously shakes his head-- he could take more time to curse Monokuma, and his awful luck, later. For now, he needs to find a place to hide, but staying out in the open hallway is practically a death wish.
He desperately glances in the direction of classroom 1-A-- he’ll have to run towards Byakuya and Jill’s general direction, but if he hurries…!
(I-I’m already worn out, but just a little more--!)
Makoto takes off at a full-blown sprint to the classroom, all too aware of the potential consequences of getting caught. His heart hammers in his chest as the footsteps draw closer, his two classmates coming into view like towering buildings on the horizon.
--
“Ugh… if this turns out to be some kind of goose chase, I swear…” Byakuya complains, his nose crinkling in disgust. He’d been attempting to enjoy picking apart case files in the archive over a cup of coffee this morning, but apparently even that was too much to ask. First he’d been besieged by Genocide Jack-- his new apparent fangirl, even pushier than Toko-- and then that accursed bear had shown up and caused a ruckus, insisting on showing them something interesting. But as of yet, Byakuya had yet to see anything even remotely worthy of his attention, and he was starting to get even more frustrated.
“Kyahaha! Ohh, Master, you know I can’t resist that stormy, sullen face! This whole ‘goose chase’ is worth every step~!”
Byakuya lets out a world-weary sigh, gritting his teeth as he pinches the bridge of his nose.
(Just keep tuning her out or you’ll get an even worse headache, Byakuya. Why couldn’t she have been the guilty party in this most recent--)
A sudden yelp from Jill drags him out of his thoughts, the serial killer’s arm snapping up to point down the hall in front of them.
“Oh look at that!”
Byakuya’s gaze shifts to where she’s pointing fast enough to get the faintest glimpse of… something. Something small-- a blur of movement in the doorway of the classroom at the end of the hall.
“Oooh, what was that?! A mooouuusee? And it thinks it can run from meeee?”
Byakuya isn’t surprised when Jill suddenly tears off down the hallway towards the classroom, shrieking with laughter. But as he follows after her, he can’t resist the slight increase of speed in his steps-- had that thing really been a mouse? He’d only seen it for a split second, but the color and shape had seemed… off. Some kind of robot like Monokuma, perhaps? A new clue…?
Either way, perhaps this tedious distraction would prove to be fruitful in the end…
--
Jill is on her hands and knees the moment after she rushes into the room, prowling the classroom and sniffing the air like some kind of wild animal.
“Awww, think you can hide? From me? Cuuuuuute. Now…”
Jill grins madly even as she pokes her head under a nearby desk.
“Come out, come out, whereeeever you aaaaare~!”
—
It doesn’t take long for Byakuya to follow after Jill and reach the doorway to the classroom, but even then… by the time he gets there, he’s met with the sound of desks clattering to the floor in one chaotic sweep, a triumphant yell (“Gotcha!”), and… the sight of Jill huddled up with something clutched in her hands.
Something squirming and… crying out.
Byakuya’s brows dart sharply upwards. Although he can’t quite see, and the sound is so small… he recognizes that terrified squawking.
“Aw, boo,” Jill grumbles. “Tch, not even big enough for one of my scissors…”
Byakuya hardly has any time to react before Jill turns around and—
His hands instinctively snap outwards as something is tossed in his direction. Whatever it is hits squarely in the palms of his hands and his fingers curl tightly around it, a flailing, warm weight that could only belong to a living creature— the thought alone nearly makes him drop the thing in revulsion.
(Did she just throw a filthy mouse at—?!)
“Soooorry Master~!” Jill croons, before pouting and tapping the blade of her scissors against her cheek. “Hmph… here I was hoping for some real meat, or a full-size cute boy… not a bite-sized happy meal with a little Mac.”
(What on Earth is she prattling on about now—?)
Byakuya looks down to his hands, wincing at the feeling of the little creature in his hands struggling in his grip… but as soon as he looks down, he can hardly tear his eyes away.
Caught haphazardly in his fingers, struggling and whimpering… is none other than Makoto Naegi. For once, Byakuya is at a loss for words, blinking disbelievingly at the ridiculous sight.
“Speaaaaking of meat,” Jill interrupts, her sullen mood ending with a quick snip of her scissors. “Let’s keep looking around, Master! I’m sure that goose must be somewhere around here.~”
With an obnoxiously loud cackle, she’s already out the door again— momentarily leaving Byakuya alone with his ‘catch’.
His grip loosens considerably at not feeling any more resistance; for a second, he feels a sudden twinge of grim resignation, thinking that perhaps the tiny boy sprawled out in his hands had died from the impact… though that theory is quickly disproven as he leans his head in closer, noting the subtle rise and fall of Makoto’s chest.
Just unconscious, then. Though, just to make sure (and to satiate some of his burning curiosity), Byakuya cautiously runs his fingertips over Makoto’s limbs.
Nothing broken, and… after using the tip of his nail to lift up Makoto’s hoodie and shirt, he can safely say that his little classmate managed to escape the ordeal with minimal bruising.
“‘Ultimate Lucky Student’ indeed,” Byakuya mutters. He lifts his hands even higher, squinting to get a better look at Makoto’s face.
The boy seems peaceful, at least, although…
…He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. The dark circles under Makoto’s eyes are none of his concern. What is his concern, however…
Byakuya gives the classroom one last, cursory glance before carefully slipping Makoto’s limp form into his blazer pocket. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, even as he exits the classroom.
Finally, something interesting.
Very, very interesting.
#gtronpa#alt title: makoto regrets his life choices (part 1 of several)#shifter!makoto au#giant/tiny#astral makes stuff#the writing corner#fandom g/t
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Comforting Time
Hey everyone, I know I should be writing down for the requests, but after coming back home, I read what happened to @satosuguslut and I wanted to write down something comforting for her. Elli I would have wanted to write some words on your blog, but I felt inspired to write this. Love you and feel better 💜
Characthers: Yuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, Toge Inumaki, Nobara Kugisaki
Warnings: Angst, Fluff.
Tears overflowing from your eyes, you couldn’t believe what happened and the only way you could react is crying a river of tears, laied on your bed. The door of your room opened, “Elli I got you” Yuji says huggin your back and caressing you, after a while you feel a hand caressing your messy hair “We know what happened, don’t worry we’re here for you” Megumi says “Just talk when you feel better” Nobara says caressing your hidden cheek with one finger just like with a newborn. After what it felt like like ages you turn your face away from the pillow and look at them with puffy eyes and red cheeks “There our pretty girl” Yuji says kissing your cheek letting you blush and sketch a little smile. Toge suddenly nears and sitting in front of you watchin you he just says “Takana”, his purple eyes displaying worry let you just cry again and tell them everything. “I’ll beat their asses if I see them” Nobara says fisting in the air “No no, we don’t beat anyone down” Megumi says trying to reassure you, “Elli know that there are a lot of people that love you. We love you, your readers love you!” Yuji says smiling and taking your hands he nears you to the others in the room and engulfe you in a bear hug “Everything will be better” Nobara says “Salmon” Inumaki confirms “Just remember to talk with us” Megumi says and finally “Don’t grieve too much, eventually you will feel better and you will trust again people” nodding to your caring friends you just tight the hug and say “Yeah I will, thanks guys for being here”.
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jjk fluff#itadori yuji#fushiguro megumi#toge inumaki#nobara kugisaki#jjk fanfic
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It Can Wait
A/N: Hi friends! This started as something to help me get rid of my little Fíli block (which SUCKS because I LOVE him with all my heart????), and I ended up really liking it! I hope you guys do too! :)
Pairing: Fíli x Fem ! Human ! Reader
Word Count: 2,847
Warnings: Fluff, talk of violence and injury, talk of blood, major character with a minor injury, nakedness (?), but like, respectful nakedness
Summary: Fíli runs to (Y/N)’s rescue at a rather inopportune time. ;)
“Lay down your packs. We’ll rest here for the night.”
Before Thorin even finished his sentence, the company of dwarves and their hobbit dropped their packs as if they were full of builders’ bricks. The resounding thump of bedrolls and clinking of weapons falling to the ground would have been enough to wake the nearest orc pack if it hadn’t already attacked the travelers earlier that day. Luckily the enemies were somewhat defeated and mostly evaded by the comrades. The skirmish did come with its casualties, but besides a few ripped packs with one gone and lost to the wargs, the injuries were survivable and would heal in a few days, according to Oin’s gruff but medically sound opinion.
(Y/N) walked to the far side of the rising camp and joined Thorin and his nephews instead of piling herself near the dwarves of the company who couldn’t bear to take another step. It seemed they’d rather plop where they stood, even if that meant sleeping on top of each other.
“Move over there, Bofur,” Bombur said. “Give a dwarf his own space, will ye?”
“Ye have plenty of space, what with ye losin’ yer pack to the warg’s mouth,” Bofur answered.
“Which wouldn’t have happened if ye didn’t run so slow!”
“Oi!”
And thus the bickering began.
(Y/N) dropped her pack on the ground where she could have some space to herself. Once freed, her aching arms stretched up over her head and her creaking back bent from side to side like a reed in the wind. She inhaled deeply, hoping to refresh her senses with some clean forest air but what she got was nothing of the sort.
That smell!
She coughed, she waved, but nothing completely dispelled the thick stink. One more sniff to make sure… and yes, that stench was her. Well, not exactly her. It was the black orc blood covering her tunic, the dirt under her nails, the sweat sliding down her skin and whatever the company shared for supper the night before. Nevertheless, that smell was indeed coming from her.
“I need to bathe,” she muttered.
“There’s a shallow river to the east. Not far,” Thorin said from behind her. She hadn’t realized he’d been setting up his bedroll so close to her as she complained about her… filth. “Go now,” he said. “Before it gets much darker.”
She nodded, going through her pack for some of her belongings. If she went now, she could wash her soiled and smelly tunic, fill her canteen, even wash her hair and still be back in time to share supper before it disappeared.
“Where are you going?” Kíli asked as (Y/N) loaded a smaller bag of hers with her washing utensils.
“To the river. I won’t be long.”
“You’re going alone?” Fíli asked, standing from his half made bedroll and wincing from the effort. Even he hadn’t been spared by the orcs today, having taken quite a blow to his knee. (Y/N) was convinced his limp was the reason Thorin called for camp before dark.
“I’m going to bathe so yes, I’m going alone,” she said.
Her fond teasing always left the tips of his ears stinging red.
“Do you think that’s the best idea?” he asked.
“I won’t be far. And I always have a dagger on me,” she said with a wink as she slung her bag over her shoulder and made for the river.
Kíli leaned to his brother’s ear, eyeing the weapon that hung from (Y/N)’s hip. It caressed her leg like a friendly cat with every step she took into the woods. “Always, always?” he asked. “Where does she keep it?”
“Use your imagination, Kíli!” she called over her shoulder.
Fíli saw the wheels chugging to life and wildly churning in his brother’s mind and smacked him.
“Oi!” Kíli barked.
Fíli listened to (Y/N)’s distant laugh and shoved his brother’s shoulder once more before returning to his bedroll. He flattened it out over a patch of long wildgrass which made for the softest sleeping place he’d had in weeks.
Moving himself to sit was a challenge with his throbbing knee, but it was one that came with a just reward. He kicked his leg out in front of him and leaned back on his hands, not in a rush to dig the crumbs of dry food out of his pack for his supper. No, he’d sit for a moment and let his mind go blank for the first time since the night before.
“Ye expect me to sleep on that little sliver of roll?”
“Yer lucky I’m sharin’ me roll with ye at all! Yer the one that lost yer pack!”
“ ‘Cause I was watchin’ out for ye!”
“Oi!”
Fíli cracked one eye open and rolled it at the spectacle. As the rest of the company spread out from their lazy pile, the grassy area dwindled, leaving mud moats and pebble piles as the only free space on the edge of the camp. Fíli had marked his territory, as had his brother and uncle. (Y/N), however, ran to the river so quickly she’d barely dropped her pack from her back, never mind set out her blanket.
“Kee,” he whispered. “See that little sliver of grass there?”
“Yeah. What about it?”
“Unroll (Y/N)’s bed for her, will ya? Right there. She’ll be left in the rocks otherwise.”
Kíli lolled his head and looked behind him, hair brushing the ground with his movement as he leaned back on his elbows. “S’too far away, Fee.”
“It’s right there!”
“You get it, then!”
Fíli had a trademark glare he saved for his little brother. Wide eyes threatened while thick brows sat like soldiers braced for battle; thinly lined lips could snap a command at any moment though his jaw seemed still and hard as stone. The glower wasn’t often unsheathed but even after seventy-odd years together, it was a weapon that still made Kíli tremble. Even now, he glanced again to the pack in question in order to avoid his brother’s steel gaze.
“What?” Kíli squeaked. “She can do it herself!”
“She’s not here.”
Fíli pushed himself to stand. The pain shot through his leg like an fiery arrow through his veins, exploding its target in the middle of his knee and sending shrapnel throughout. He winced, face scrunched up tight, as he limped to unclip (Y/N)’s bedroll from the top of her pack.
“You don’t have to baby her,” Kíli said.
“I’m not,” Fíli said as he rolled the thick blanket over the grass near his own. “I would rather not listen to her complain of her sore back all because you didn’t save her a place.”
“I wouldn't have to if she didn’t take so long washing her pretty hair.”
Fíli patted his handiwork and leaned close to Kíli to say, “Good thing you didn’t get up off your rear, then.” He dodged Kíli’s flying hand and chuckled at his little brother’s faked outrage. Then he stood, adjusted his belt and looked to the sky to judge the time. The sun was low, shining in the trees ahead and painting the leaves golden, the same way it shone at the crown of (Y/N)’s head as if she were a royal.
“She does have pretty hair,” Fíli said.
Before Kíli could shoot back an answer, his attention was pulled to a sharp cry echoing in the near distance. He caught Fíli’s eye and saw panic there.
“What was that?” he asked.
Fíli unsheathed his dagger and listened. Nothing.
“Stay here.”
Fíli disappeared into the eastern woods and made for the river. His injury was forgotten as he rushed through the trees, on guard for any lagging assailants waiting for him to approach. With each twig crunching step, he willed himself to slow down, make a plan, take in his surroundings, so as not to sprint full force into an enemy attack on his own. But the thought of (Y/N) in danger spurred him on. He rushed forth- forgot his training, his pain, his fear. His heart pounded in his chest as if attempting to break free from its cage and act as lieutenant.
His steps were mechanical, automatic. Green and brown whirred around him until he reached a clearing and saw blue. Then a shining dagger glinted in front of his chest.
“(Y/N)! Wait!” he said, arms shot in front of him.
“Fíli! What’s wrong?”
The land all around was empty except for the two of them. No enemy stood in sight and there was no evidence of a fight before he’d arrived. No blood, no weapons, and the only footsteps in the dirt were (Y/N)’s own. Her bare feet, tiny compared to his thick boots, led to bare calves, bare knees and mostly bare thighs, only the tops of which were covered with a clinging, wet tunic. Back to her feet his eyes went and he backed away, sheathing his dagger and looking anywhere except the soaked woman before him.
“Mahal, I’m so sorry. I thought I heard a scream and you were out here alone- my mind went to the worst. I really didn’t- this is no ploy to- I swear.”
“I believe you, Fíli.” She picked her dagger’s sheath from the ground and replaced her weapon. For a moment, he watched the soaked tunic adhere to her chest. Her hair shone with soap that slid down her neck, the bubbles making their way down over the dips of her collarbones and adding to the translucency of her covering.
She straightened. “I heard it too, but it was a fox. The pack made a kill just over the bank and celebrated so loudly I thought they were actually dwarves.” The corners of her mouth wriggled as she tried not to smile.
“You’re funny.”
“Thank you.”
She watched him. For his reaction? To pressure him into keeping his gaze to himself? To thank him for risking his life for her safety? He wasn’t sure.
“I’m also shivering and covered in soap, so if you don’t mind-”
“I’ll leave.” He turned back to the way he came, leaning a bit too far onto his sore leg. Despite his best intentions, he hissed in pain but the spare air vanished when a damp hand landed on his arm.
“What did Oin say about your knee?” she asked.
His hand clamped onto hers. “I’ll be crooked for a few days, but it should heal just fine. Nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing to run through the woods on either.”
A breeze blew between them. She shook with a chill that ran down her spine and took her hand away from his.
“You are shivering,” he said. “I’ll leave you as you asked.”
“Actually, I just meant to ask if you’d turn around so I can rinse off. Then we can walk back together. Wouldn’t want any foxes to attack you in your weakened state,” she said, biting her lip to stop from laughing as he shook his head.
He watched her back into the water, expertly dodging slippery, sharp rocks, until the little ripples reached her knees. She never took her eyes off his, but cocked a brow as she fiddled with the hem of her wet tunic.
“You should probably turn around now.”
“Right.”
He dutifully and respectfully spun, holding his breath to listen to her laugh. Her tunic landed on the rocks near his feet with a wet slap while the river water splashed and encased her in its embrace. If he closed his eyes, he’d be able to see her leaning her head back into the waves, revealing her neck and the swell of her breasts until her flesh disappeared below the surface. If he closed his eyes, he had the chance to imagine things he shouldn’t be picturing about his comrade.
So he looked up into the trees to count the birds or the leaves or the branches- something that would take his attention away from the completely bare woman right behind him. Then he saw her extra tunic hanging dry, still stained dark grey and maroon from their skirmish with a small orc pack that afternoon.
“That’s your only spare tunic up there?” he asked.
She hummed. “I can’t seem to wash the orc stench out of it, but it seems I’ll have to wear it for the night as my other one won’t dry in time.”
“I have an extra you can wear.”
“Oh, no, I’ll make do.”
“Nonsense,” he said, retrieving the wet tunic-ball and hanging it over a branch. As he sniffed the stained one and winced, he said, “Rip this one up for rags. You’ll need some for cleaning and mending as we go on. This wet one will dry, but until we can get you another spare, you can take mine.”
He dropped the rags-to-be by her bag and slid out of his outer layer. As he shed his clothes, he started to regret his decision. But asking her to choose between freezing overnight and sleeping in orc funk wasn’t an option. His fingers shook as the rustling of the water grew higher in pitch and her steps turned from small splashes to light pats over the dirt.
“That’s generous of you. Thank you.”
He pulled his tunic over his head and held it out, only seeing her by his side when he ran a hand through his braids and set them to rights. She’d slipped into her trousers and though she’d squeezed the water from her hair, stubborn droplets ran down her smooth skin and over freckles that were newly formed from long hours in the sun.
“You’re welcome,” he said, turning away as she dressed.
It wasn’t long before she landed before him, long tails tucked in and bunched in her trousers and laces tied under her neck.
“Well, then,” she said. “Ready to fight off some foxes?”
Fíli chuckled as the sleeve she’d pushed up to her elbow fell back down and over her wrist. “Indeed. Maybe we’ll find something for supper on the way,” he said as he neatly rolled the extra fabric up her arm the way he knew she liked it.
“Anything would be better than whatever your brother caught for us last night.”
“Not a fan of mystery meat?”
“Not when it smells like that,” she said.
When the pair grabbed everything they’d brought with them to the river, they started their way back to the camp. The sun had set but there was still a residual light radiating from the sky and through the trees. The purple twilight illuminated the path which Fíli had made much more prominent with his previous run through the woods. Mighty bear jokes were passed back and forth as (Y/N) noticed the broken branches and large bootsteps left in the dirt.
Fíli wrapped an arm tight around her shoulders and pulled, making her topple into his chest and giggle even more.
“Knock it off,” he said, words warped by his wide grin.
“Fine, fine. But seriously, Fíli. I’m honestly quite offended by what you’ve done tonight.”
He stopped her in the path, eyes wide and deep with regret. “(Y/N), I promise, I was not at all trying to sneak some sort of peek. I really thought you were in danger-”
“No, not that. All this time I always thought I had a rather pleasant voice. Now you say I sound like a yowling fox. It hurts me a bit.” She headed back to camp without him, leaving him stunned into place in the middle of the woods. “More than a bit, actually,” she continued. “I think you’re going to have to think very hard on how to make this all up to me. If we want to stay friends, that is.”
Two giant, limping steps later, he was close enough to take her in his arms and kiss her, as he’d wanted to do for months. And unexpectedly, magically, thankfully, she returned his embrace. Her fingers were cold on the nape of his neck but his tunic was warm around her body. Up her back and into her hair went his thick fingers, opening her to him and pulling her lips even closer. He sighed, a mix of her scent and his, her hair oil and his soap, and every bit of him swelled to capacity with pride and affection. Finally.
He drew away just enough to take in her face. Her eyes were still closed, and slowly, a smile grew on her pinked lips. She hummed and looked at him.
“That’s a good start,” she said.
“I’m glad you think so.”
Her smile spread into a bright and beautiful grin and Fíli could only return it. He shifted against her and felt her arms wrap further around him in support.
“We should get you back for some rest. Your knee-”
“Can wait,” he said, taking her chin in his fingers and running his thumb just under her lips. “It can wait.”
He kissed her again, pain and worries gone.
***
Taglist: @emrfangirl @misslongcep @raindancer2004 @ladybugg1235 @xxbyimm @burningcoffeetimetravel @fire-flv @nerdbirdsworld @dashesofink @teagarages @dreams-of-wander @winchesterandpie @bluebellcotton @tumblinglringlring @fxngsfogxarty @specialagentsnark @afeistyfairy12 @queenofmankind @karlthecat15722 @sagabriar @marymegger @aidan-kili-mitchell-forever @c-s-stars
#fili#fili x reader#fili x human!reader#fili x fem!reader#the hobbit#the hobbit fandom#the hobbit fic#the hobbit fanfic#the hobbit fanfiction#dean o'gorman x reader
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The Way It Is, Chapter 4 (Arthur Morgan x Reader)
After two weeks of nonstop treatment, Arthur’s face was finally starting to look better. You hadn’t risked another trip into town. Now that Arthur was up and moving, you wanted to be with him. The last thing that they needed was for him to think he was doing better than he actually was while you were gone and hurting himself again. Or worse, getting caught by the Pinkertons. You didn’t even want to imagine the torture they would go through before they were killed. It was sure to be a slow and painful death, especially after what Abigail had done to Milton. Arthur described it once, the gruesome reality of having someone’s brains sprayed directly onto his face. You had, of course, seen a bullet go through more than a couple of skulls, usually from your own gun, but you had always been a safe distance away and never really had to face the aftermath. You figured that whoever had found Milton hadn’t seen it up close or at all. No, there would be no mercy for them now.
You forced Arthur to his feet. He didn’t protest verbally, but you could see the complaint in his eyes. Even after years of going through this kind of shit, he was still reluctant. Imagine that. He was always so proactive on jobs and helping out others, it was strange to see him so unwilling to do something to help himself. You had no qualms about dragging him out of the cave if it was necessary. Thankfully, Arthur would listen to you. Usually. Even now, as he leaned heavily against you, he was still walking forward.
“That’s it. Just a couple more feet,” you promised.
“You said that already,” Arthur huffed.
“Gotta keep you on your toes. Literally. C’mon, what happened to Arthur Morgan? The guy who could intimidate the world’s strongest man? The guy who, if your ridiculous campfire stories are to be trusted, fought a lion?”
Arthur groaned. “Don’t remind me. That damned Margaret or whatever his name was nearly got me killed. Did get a lot of folk killed down at Emerald Ranch, all to give me some piece a junk for my troubles.”
“Sure he did.”
You chuckled softly. A part of you didn’t believe anything like that could ever have happened, but they were far enough east around that time that you would have believed anything was possible. You looked up at him. He was staring at the ground with an intense expression. All of his energy was focused on getting his leg back up to full strength. He’d been sitting around in that cave for too long. When he stood up for the first time, he immediately fell back on his ass, clutching his wounded leg and grimacing. You had gone out into the woods to take care of the Count after that. You found that the white steed had taken a liking to you. If he was close enough, he’d come to the sound of your voice. You made sure that that pretty white coat of his stayed white and lustrous. While you were out there in the woods, you fashioned a fallen branch into a kind of staff for Arthur to make walking a little easier. Now, he was insisting that he didn’t need it. You had some requests of your own, such as taking him down the mountain side and back. Not all the way, of course. Just a few meters away from the cave. It was still well within view.
The real challenge was getting the food you cooked to stay in their stomachs. The food you’d bought at the general store had run out in a week. Since Arthur was awake, you felt comfortable going out to do some hunting. However, if you tried to do anything more than roast whatever game you’d managed to catch, it never turned out right. It wasn’t like they had a plethora of ingredients, but it wasn’t pleasant. It was, somewhat, better than having nothing. Hopefully, they’d be off this mountain soon.
“Hey, y’know what I could really go for?” Arthur asked.
“What?”
“Some fish. Dutch’s old rod was in with the Count’s things and I’ve always got mine handy. How’s about we head down to a nice place and try to catch somethin’?”
“Arthur Morgan, suggestin’ that we go fishin’? Now I’ve seen everything.” You didn’t bother trying to hide your grin. “Stay here, I’ll grab the rods.”
You quickly ran back to the cave, crawling inside and grabbing what they needed. You took a few scraps of bread and cheese, too, in case they needed some extra bait. Arthur was waiting somewhat eagerly for you to come back. You helped him move down the more tricky parts of the mountain. There were more than a few places that could get a little steep and slick if one step was wrong. They were following the small stream you’d discovered hidden in one of the many crevices. It was about 20 minutes of walking (mostly because they had to stop every now and then to let Arthur rest) to get to the spring the stream fed into.
Your breath was taken away as you looked at the sight before you. Crystal blue water stretched out just far enough. Vegetation was spread all around them. Some of the plants you knew, but most you couldn’t name off the top of your head. The water reflected the beauty around them. It was somewhat obscured, but that only added to it. The stream fed into the spring like a small waterfall, ensuring that the area would never be completely silent. Not even the lowest part of the rocks reached the surface, standing several inches above the water. A perfect fishing spot.
“Wow,” you spoke quietly.
“Wow indeed,” Arthur agreed.
Without another word, they both put together their rods, sharing the bait. You moved a few paces away to keep their lines from getting crossed. They sat in silence for a long time. It was comfortable. Perfect, unlike that first night Arthur had been awake. In a place like this, it was easy to forget fear and just… live. Really live and be human for a few fleeting moments. That was all that you really wanted now. Precious moments, surrounded by beauty.
Arthur stopped fidgeting and looked up. You glanced back at him. He was staring at the sky in wonder. His mouth was slightly agape and blue-green eyes were wide. You turned to see what he was looking at.
The sun was slowly setting in the west. From where they were, they actually had a pretty good view of it. The fading sun cast a glow of orange over the tops of the trees. The usual blue of the sky was melting into the oranges and yellows. The clouds were a light pinkish colour, lazily floating towards nothing. Purples meshed with reds, light and dark came together and it was only for a few moments. Before anything else could be seen or said, the moment was gone.
Arthur closed his mouth. There was a soft smile traced across his lips still. You stared at the retreating sun for a moment. It really was something else. No matter how many sunsets you saw, you would never get used to the sight of them. Each one of them was so different from the last, so unique.
“I missed the sun,” Arthur said.
“We can see it from the cave,” you shrugged.
“Yeah, but you know that ain’t the same as standing in a place like this and watchin’ it. Don’t try and fool yourself now.”
“Nah, I s’pose not. We better be headin’ back now. I don’t think any of our fish friends are interested in cheese.”
“Hold on! I’ve got somethin’!”
Arthur pulled back on the rod, reeling in whatever it was he had quickly. You watched in anticipation. Neither of them were expecting for his leg to give out at that exact moment.
Arthur was pulled into the water. He landed with a loud splash that sent water up over the rocks and onto you’s boots. Dread overtook you as you looked into the water. Arthur sputtered when he came back to the surface, wiping water from his eyes. He gave his head a good shake and held up the fishing rod.
“Had to cut the line to keep the rod,” he said.
“You okay?” you asked him. You hoped that your voice didn’t sound as worried as you felt.
“Yeah, I’m good. C’mon, help me outta here.”
You made your way down the rocks closer to the water’s edge. You found the spot closest to the water and held out your hand. Arthur swam over to you. His fingers wrapped around your wrist. You started to pull back but was met with a much greater force pulling you in. You barely had time to brace yourself before you were completely submerged. It took you a moment to get your bearings under water. Her eyes stung but you needed to look around. You found the surface and swam quickly. As soon as you were up, you took a deep gulp of fresh air into your lungs. Arthur was laughing like a madman. It wasn’t often that you heard Arthur laugh, but it did nothing to make you less angry at him. You sent a wave of water his way.
“You dumbass! Now we’re both soaked!” You complained.
“Ah, you’re enjoyin’ yourself, don’t lie.” Arthur was still smiling and trying not to laugh. “You need to do that, y’know. Take a little time for yourself. God knows you’ve spent enough of it on an old fool like me.”
“Fool? Yes. Old? No. If you’re old, then so am I and I ain’t ready for that conversation yet. And as for lookin’ out for you? If I didn’t do it, who would?” Arthur opened his mouth to say something back. “All right, will this shut you up? I’ll promise to watch you if you promise to watch me. We’ll take care of each other. Deal?”
You held out your hand expectantly. Arthur didn’t hesitate to take it in his own. His palms were rough and calloused. You were sure that yours felt much the same to him. They shook on it, making it official. You pulled your hand away. As Arthur turned around, you put your hands on his shoulders and pushed down with all of your strength. He was completely submerged. You let out a laugh of your own until you felt his hand on your ankle. Just like that, you were back underwater. You could just barely make out Arthur swimming back for air. You did the same. You pushed your hair out of your face. It was the first time that you had smiled in what felt like months.
You laid on your back and let yourself float. You looked up at the night sky. If Arthur was feeling this good, then their days on the mountain were numbered. If it was just the two of them, they could get off with relative ease. They could even make it back west, if they tried. Find someplace far away from the trains and settle there. Together. Make some kind of a life for whatever time that they had left. You wasn’t going back to being an outlaw. You knew that you could, if you really wanted to. You had been doing well for yourself before Arthur found you. Somehow, it felt wrong to think about going back to that life without the rest of the gang by your side.
Arthur entwined his fingers with yours. You looked over at him. He was staring at the sky, too. As you looked back up, you wondered what was causing that pensive look on his face. Was he worried about the same things you were? All you knew was that he was there and present. With his hand in your own, you could forget about the rest of the world. It was just the two of them in this moment, in their little secret spring. They were unburdened by the need for conversation. The only sound was the soft trickle of the stream.
Arthur let you go and swam to the edge. He pulled himself out of the water. Arthur shook his body like he was a dog, running his fingers through his hair. He leaned down and held out a hand to you. You swam over tentatively and took it. You still didn’t entirely trust Arthur now, not after that stunt. But there were no tricks up Arthur’s sleeve, not this time. He pulled you up with little difficulty, considering his leg wound.
You stood next to him for a moment, inches away from being flush against his chest. They had been forced to be close together over the past couple of weeks, sure, but this felt different somehow. You took a step back to get rid of the feeling. You didn’t like it and you didn’t like who was causing it.
On the sodden trek back to their temporary home, you kept your arms tight around yourself. By the time they got back to the cave, you were shivering. You made your way into the cave and started gathering up the blankets.
“Make sure to get out of those wet clothes, Arthur. The last thing we need is one of us catchin’ pneumonia,” you warned.
He nodded, facing towards the back of the cave as he started to unbutton his shirt. You stared at his back for longer than you should have. When you turned to face your own wall, your cheeks were burning. Quickly, you took off your own clothes and wrapped one of the blankets around yourself tightly. You set the clothes close to the entrance. You sat against one of the walls and leaned your head back. You let yourself dream of the virgin west for a short while before taking watch.
#arthur morgan x reader insert#arthur morgan x reader#arthur x reader insert#arthur x reader#reader insert#reader#fanfiction#arthur morgan#red dead redemption 2#red dead redemption#red dead#rdr2#video games
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At Your Service, Alpha 1
Alpha!Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler) x omega!Reader
Descriptions: Kurt is apartment sitting for his friend and the last thing he expected to find was his one true omega, but there she was. Except she can’t seem to tell they belong together. (Y/n) has dreamed about the day she would meet her one true alpha her whole life. A new, blue, alpha comes to see her every day, and she hates him! Until she starts thinking about him all the time. Her allergies make it so she can’t smell anything, but she knows that her alpha will let her know when he finds her. Won’t he?
A/n- I’ve been sitting on this one for a while, waiting for the right time to post it Guess now is as good a time as any!
Masterlist
Story!
(Y/n) sighed as she pulled the still vibrating toy from herself, turning it off and laying it on the bed next to her.
She was panting heavily, rolling over and grabbing a tissue from the box on her nightstand. The weird squeaking noises filled her head as her swollen sinuses let air back through them after blowing her nose.
It sucked to be an omega in heat, but especially as she did it; she had always romanticised waiting, being with her one true alpha for her first time, so during her heat, she spent the days of the week in a tub of lukewarm water with her fully submersible, waterproof toy driving her mad, and the nights she’d tie herself to the bed so she couldn’t go crying into the hall of the apartment building for an alpha, except this time, which for some reason she’d been so needy that she’d played with the toy in her bed, despite her heat winding down.
The toy did little to help, small, vibrating, and able to hit a few pleasant spots inside, but it wasn’t one of the fancy models with an inflatable knot that would fill you and make you feel content for a short while, as other omegas had told her.
It also didn’t help that she was allergic to dust and pollen, making it impossible for her to ever breathe easily unless she took allergy pills.
She had taken them for years, but they were expensive, and really, smells were nice, but it wasn’t necessary to have to be on guard for roaming alphas in today’s society, and, while she knew that she’d be able to tell her destined alpha by smell when she met him, she figured that he’d tell her, much as she’d seen the others do in her small town, thus making her very expensive allergy pills a redundant waste of money.
(Y/n) sighed and put the toy back in her drawer, tying her ankles, then hands to the bed and laying back to sleep.
.
She awoke in the morning, yawning and pulling on the tie holding her hands down. Her heat was over, so she had to go back to work.
After a nice hot shower, which actually let her sinuses be open for a while when done after a heat, she dressed and headed to work.
Her apartment was at the end of the hall on the second story of the building, so she had quite the way to go through the sinus swelling dust before she got outside to the sinus swelling pollen, and by the time she exited the building, she had sneezed about five times.
The sun had risen before she left, but it was still gentle in the sky when she arrived at work about a half an hour later.
(Y/n) went into the cafe where her friend was finishing up the baking for the day, helping put the filled trays into their shelves.
She looked up at her, smiling cheekily. “Have a good heat? Or still denying yourself the pleasure?”
“Alex,” (Y/n) chided. “I’ll feel it when I feel it.”
“It’s just so much better!” She giggled. “I don’t know how you can stand not smelling anything, what if your alpha walked in here today and you couldn’t smell anything?”
(Y/n) rolled her eyes as she took the tray she was handing her. “Then I’m sure he’ll come up to me and grab me by the scruff, tell me I’m his, and abscond with me. You’ll have to find another employee,” she teased back.
(Y/n) bowed her head in respect as Jared, Alex’s alpha, entered the shop with a smile, walking to Alex and stopping. “On your knees, omega,” he told her, and she knelt in front of him, playing along with his game.
(Y/n) pulled another tray from the rack and slid it onto the shelf, looking over at the two.
Alex had been her friend since she’d moved here and started working in her shop, about four years ago. Jared had walked into the shop two years ago, intent on ordering some lunch to go, but he had stopped walking, standing stalk still as he sniffed the air, looking around until he found Alex, walking toward her where she’d stopped to stare at him, sniffing his scent. He’d pulled her close and kissed her, pulling back to declare; “I’m your alpha. You’re my omega.” She’d stared up at him longingly, knowing he was right, and happy to have found him at last.
(Y/n) smiled fondly at the memory, glad for her as they stood close together now, her giggling and him smiling down at her.
(Y/n) hoped that when she found her alpha it could be someone nice like Jared; he was strong over Alex when she needed him to be, but he was always sweet to her, as well, the kneeling thing was just something like a game they played, an “aren’t you glad I’m not like other alphas/ omegas” game.
The door opened again, and she looked up to see a customer. “Good morning,” she greeted.
Looks like the day was starting.
.
Kurt stopped in front of the door, glancing down at his phone. This was the building, it was the right floor, the correct number. He knocked on the door and after a moment it opened.
“Hallo,” he greeted his friend.
“Hi,” Scott answered, standing aside so he could enter.
Kurt paused, though, looking at the door at the end of the hall, his nose lifting to sniff.
Scott looked back to him. “What's up, man?”
Kurt shook his head and turned back to the apartment in front of him. “Nothing, just… That smell…” He said, his eyes drifting back to the door.
“Oh, yeah. There's an omega that lives there, just, uh, just finished her heat…” Scott trailed off.
“But, I don't smell an alpha,” Kurt commented.
“Nah,” Scott answered as Kurt walked through the door. “She's a weirdo. Gets through it by herself. Says she's waiting for “the one”, or something. It hurts when they go into heat, you know? Like they're dying, and only a knot can cure them.”
“Ja, that I know,” Kurt said with a smirk. He'd been with plenty of omegas, seeing how desperate they were for the feeling of his knot inside them.
He'd always looked down at them with a bit of pity, and decided that when, if ever, he found his true omega, he hoped that he wouldn't see her as the same pitifully begging and writhing, desperate thing he saw in them, more so, hoping that she wouldn't immediately drop to her knees and bow before him, instead accepting him on her terms.
When he'd gone drinking with a group of alphas from the X-Men before, they'd told him he was crazy, what he was asking for was more like an alpha. He didn’t care, though, he just knew what he wanted.
Kurt spent the evening watching movies and things with Scott, getting ready to take over, apartment sitting for him.
“I really appreciate you doing this,” Scott told him.
“No problem,” Kurt answered.
“It’s hard being tied to someone so powerful, sometimes,” Scott complained.
Kurt didn’t answer, just took a swig of the beer in his hand.
Scott was his friend, but he was a bit of a complainer, so the whining was nothing new to him.
“At least you’ll get to see Jean when you go,” he commented.
Scott made a noise in agreement, but didn’t mention it further.
.
In the morning, Kurt held the door for Scott, waving to him as he carried his bag and walked down the hall.
He was just turning to go back into the apartment, but caught a smell. He glanced back into the apartment quickly before stepping out and going down the hall to the door at the end. The scent there was not quite fresh, she must have just left less than an hour ago.
Kurt’s nostrils flared a little as he sniffed, his body automatically getting closer to the ground and the crack under the door where the smell was concentrated.
One strong whiff, and Kurt was done for. A feeling of need filled him, making space for itself in the pit of his stomach. His eyes snapped open and he inhaled again.
It was amazing- groin tingling, saliva inducing… But it was more than delicious; it was inspiring.
He felt a surge of energy, and didn’t know what to do. He paced back to Scott’s apartment, but couldn’t bear to be away from the scent that filled him with such emotions, so he turned back, starting to look like an animal pacing at the zoo as frustration filled him.
His scent was starting to fill the hall, making it harder for him to smell the delicious scent coming from under the door.
He stormed into Scott’s apartment and slammed the door.
He wanted to meet her, this delicious smelling omega. He felt the need growing, and it was starting to worry him. He’d never wanted to be with any Omega this badly before.
He turned to a source of information that he’d used sparingly in the past.
Yes, he was a romantic, but he usually watched or read alpha romances, where the alpha suddenly found their omega, but had some sort of conflict separating them; clan war, society archetypes, things like that that made it so that they had to fight, his favorites were the ones where the omega had been promised to another alpha, but the protagonist fought the odds and won the omega, not only her heart, but the approval of her parents or the ones who had promised her away in the first place. He’d always thought omega romances to be unnecessarily sappy, so he watched them as little as possible. He hoped they’d come in handy now, though, with this weird new feeling he had.
He searched through Scott’s movies, both physical and streaming, and found one, putting it on. A third of the way through it, though, he hit the square stop button. It was hard to watch, so sappy and cheesy with the normal, know nothing omega male winning the beautiful, full package alpha female by just being himself…
His head perked up, though. He’d been watching male omega romance movies… Maybe the female ones would be better…
He searched, and finally found one, hitting play.
The female omega lead was cute, but not insanely beautiful, like an alpha would be, and she went through life, just like a normal woman would. It was shortly after getting her character set up that she met a man, an alpha who had started at the same company as her, and she had the spark. She immediately went to talk to him, but was brushed off by his entourage. That night she cried to herself, but tried to be strong. Later, she got to speak to him, and spend a little time with him, but he seemed disinterested in her.
She cried and pined for him, knowing that he was her one true alpha, but that he wasn’t interested in her. It was his right as an alpha to refuse her, and she was trying to respect that, but it hurt her so much inside that she burst into tears in front of him and ran away. She didn’t return to work the rest of the week, and it suddenly turned to the alpha. He was asking about her. He started feeling loss at her absence. He felt an ache that wouldn’t go away, no matter how many omegas he was around, or with. He went to where she lived and told her all of these things, and they got together.
Kurt’s brow crumpled.
He wasn’t sure how to feel about the movie, on one hand, it was ridiculous, on the other, it was rather romantic… and a little addicting…
He glanced around as though to make sure that no one was watching him, though he was alone, and put on another.
.
The sun had set a while ago, now, and after watching so many female omega romances, he had to admit, that, while ridiculous, the feeling that the alpha characters had after meeting their one true omega and being away from them, not having them by their side, while dramatically overplayed in his opinion, did seem similar to how he felt.
He laid back on the couch and stretched, freezing as he heard a noise in the hall. He shot up and cracked the door open. The delicious smell was fresh in the hall, meaning that she must have come home.
He went to her door, but paused, his hand raised.
She had just gotten home from work, she probably wanted to take a bath, or shower, and relax.
He had planned to knock and meet her, but- he straightened and turned back to Scott’s apartment- he, as any romantic would, alpha or omega, had thought about this day for most of his life. He’d always planned to sweep his omega off their feet, and now would probably not be the right time in her eyes, but maybe that was just all the omega romance movies he’d been watching talking…
Kurt sat back on the couch, turning on more- research material…
Tag List!
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#Alpha!Kurt Wagner#kurt wagner x reader#nightcrawler x you#Marvel AU#angst#abo dynamics#A/B/O verse#a/b/o#romance#multi part story#X-men#x-men au#omega reader#Kurt Wagner x y/n#Alpha!Nightcrawler#valkyrieofsmut#not the normal omega reader
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confectionery kisses (fat gum x reader)
summary: “I know you’re enjoyin’ me, but -- uh -- can I kiss ya?” The alcohol hit him fully now; the hero too enumerated to be bashful. Steamie looked up and was greeted by lemon color eyes that held utter kindness.
xxx
lord forgive me bc this is so wholesome it killed me!!! but basically, bakery!au ft. meet-cute w/ drunken kissing shenanigans~! (well it's 1 kiss ok but it is what it is)
author note: i’m considering a part 2 that picks up where this leaves off, but w smut. if that’s sumthin anyone would b interested in, pls lmk~!
reader is nonbinary/afab!
word count: 2,130
my ao3 for more shitposts~!
my ko-fi~!
my inbox is open 4 requests :3c
Focused, flour caked hands kneaded the dough before them. The young baker too engrossed by the magic of dough to notice a soft chime sound through the shop. Customers weren’t uncommon for them. Steamie’s Bakery was a word-of-mouth local treasure. A bewitching pastry shop that had the best donuts, honest. Steamie -- as they prefer -- adored their neighbors praises. Steady streams of patrons in a ‘hot spot’ for criminal activity wasn’t exactly the best business decision. However, this run-down homestyle bakery -- and it’s holes -- were theirs.
Steamie hummed as they worked. Their mind was stuck within sugary confectionery.
“Hey… y’all open?” This man’s voice was gruff and carefree. A smile wrapped in his syllables.
Fat Gum stood within the tiny bakery. His form dwarfed the modest space; the edge of his hood scrapped against the ceiling as he waited for a response. The BMI Hero was surprised his lumbering footsteps hadn’t alerted the owner. Was it possible he had misread the sign? Work had drained him recently. Fat Gum had practically dragged himself to Steamie’s Bakery. Locals babbled constantly about the place, and he desired a quiet bite after hours. The quant business was one of the only eateries open at such an hour.
The abrupt sound whipped the enamored baker from their task. Warm eyes glanced up, irises bright and alive despite the time. “Hi. Yes! Yes, we are. I’m Steamie.” Their eyes met the giant man who stood awkwardly in front of a display. He looked so out of place, the man’s body bulbous and impossibly large. Steamie guessed by the man’s rather campy mask that he was an off-duty hero. A species of hero not seen often around their street. The area deemed too dangerous for such leisurely activity.
Truth be told, Steamie didn’t care about heroes. Or villains. The tall baker instead hyper focused upon baking. A hobby that morphed into a job. However, a small voice inside Steamie wanted to impress the man. He seemed so friendly and looked so… cuddly. Like a sentient teddy bear. A man composed of pillows and kindness.
Fat Gum furrowed his brows. The BMI Hero seemed to be in deep thought over exactly which eclair to buy. He had never seen so many flavors before. Strawberry, blueberry, cherry, watermelon. Every flavor sounded as delicious as the last. Pink tongue darted out between his lips and teeth. A sugar overload was tempting. Simple black coffee wouldn’t cure this sluggy fog. Besides, he had burned away precious fat today. It was a treat.
“Steamie? Does your quirk help with your work?” Fat Gum asked, as he scanned the pastries. He noticed their designs now. Soft and lacy intricate artwork that intertwined on each eclair; each pattern unique and perfectly executed. Every baked good was a labor of love.
A snort escaped Steamie; the sound high pitched and hearty.
“I wish. No, I just emit a puff of steam. I’m basically a glorified dehumidifier.” Steamie brushed flour decorated hands against their apron. The young baker was keen to serve the hero. Hero culture wasn’t an interest of theirs, but the physical embodiment of a pillow was too enticing for the baker. They wondered what exactly their job was. ‘Due to his size… maybe rescue?’
It was now Fat Gum’s turn to laugh. Rumbly and soft. “I don’t do rescue. Say, uh, how much are these eclairs?”
Rambling out loud was habitual for them. Their thoughts grew legs of their own and walked out into tangible space. They were immune to the embarrassment of it, instead accepting their odd trait.
Steamie slapped a dusty hand to their forehead. “I don’t have price tags..?” The sentence was in limbo between a question and an answer. They had rearranged the shop recently. Changing pastry stock required innovation. The elclairs before Fat Gum had been a stroke of late night genius. Birthed from the desire for a gooey center and intricate lace. A happy medium for the proud baker.
The baker quickly stepped behind the counter, dust flew from their hands. Diligent hands eventually found a leftover tag and wrote down a price. Patrons caused Steamie to envelope themselves into baking. Most days, flour and powdered sugar felt impossible to wash off. Almost like a second skin; signs of their success.
Steamie beckoned Fat Gum to the counter. The BMI Hero obliged; pep in his gait.
“Here. Don’t go thinking you’re getting a discount!” Steamie’s laugh echoed in the bakery as they handed the hero price tags. Fat Gum could swear the baker’s body vibrated from the sound. “I’ve been busy lately. Cakes and pies don’t sell themselves.”
The hero’s smile grew like marigolds; fast and vibrant. Steamie didn’t mind looking at this hero. His posture was proud, but hid something. A mystery Steamie couldn’t quite figure out. ‘Kinda interesting…’
“What’s interesting?” Fat Gum asked, the giant of a man still enamored by pastries.
“You know my quirk; what’s yours? It’s probably super interesting.”
The hero’s face contorted into a mix of confusion and admiration. ‘Does she not know who I am?’ “My quirk is fat absorption. I don’t usually look like this!” A laugh erupted from the man. His notoriety meant everyone knew of his quirk. The banter was refreshing. Fat Gum enjoyed the naivety of the baker.
Their conversation died down as Fat Gum perused baked goods. Steamie wandered back to their original post. They almost forgot the hero was in the shop. Heavy footsteps dissolved any fantasy of peace and quiet. Little moments of serenity were scarce, but nightfall brought the quiet Steamie craved. A meager smile etched into the corners of the baker’s mouth. They hummed as they worked; now fully absorbed in kneading dough.
“Hey,” the hero’s gruff voice broke the silence between them, “hope it’s not too much trouble, but I’m ready to be rung up!” His words carried an airiness to them; like cotton candy. Steamie wondered if this was a natural state for Fat Gum.
Steamie nodded, again wiping their hands on their apron. Dusty fingers worked at the register and completed the transaction between the two.
Fat Gum stopped short of the door and turned to the baker still stationed at the counter. “What’s your name?” He asked with childish curiosity, as if Steamie’s name was a mystery.
“Like I said, I’m Steamie,” they replied, eyeing the hero. It wasn’t uncommon for locals to ask what their real name was, but as far as Steamie cared, Steamie was their name. An abstract, genderless name that suited them.
Fat Gum laughed, a hearty sound that echoed through the empty bakery. Steamie swore display cases shook. Almost reminiscent of thunder. “No, uh, your… Your real name, unless you prefer Steamie. It’s cute.” A tint of red dotted his cheeks, unable to hide the embarrassment that painted his face. He didn’t intend to tell the baker; the compliment had slipped past him.
“Steamie is who I am. Is Fat Gum not who you are?” They chose to ignore the comment, it was muttered anyway, as if the hero was embarrassed. It was polite to not intimate customers.
“Toyomitsu,” the hero said and pointed to his chest; a smile stretched across his face.
“It was nice to meet you, Toyomitsu.”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Fat Gum -- or Toyomitsu as he preferred -- was absent from the shop, until several weeks after their first meeting.
It was closing time and Steamie was locking up. Despite their dingy location, the baker only carried two keys; one to lock up and the other to unlock their apartment. There were better things to steal than confectionery.
“Long time no see, huh, Steamie?”
The thunderous voice obviously belonged to Toyomitsu; unique and hearty.
The baker flinched at the sudden noise and swiftly turned to the BMI Hero. His face was no longer taunt and long, but instead, squishy and soft. Chubby cheeks that were made for pinching and a soft, bulbous belly. The man before them sounded like Toyomitsu, but his hefty frame was the opposite of the hero Steamie met.
“You’re… Toyomitsu, right?” Remembering names wasn’t one of Steamie’s strong suits.
A light blush crept across Toyomitsu’s face, ending at the tips of his ears. “That’s me! Kinda surprised you remembered, it’s been awhile.”
Steamie nodded and finished to lock the door, pocketing their key.
“I was wondering,” Toyomitsu began, “if you wanted to get a bite. It’d be my treat!” The hero’s tone was excited, like a child asking for a sweet. ‘He’s so enduring like this… reminds me of a teddy bear.’ Steamie’s lips curled into a petite smile. A secret between friends.
In truth, Toyomitsu wanted more than a dinner date, but any meaningful relationship is built on friendship. At least that’s the advice he offered to Red Riot. The pro hero wanted to kiss the baker and pinch their cheeks; all while cooing at them.
“No thanks, I’m exhausted from today,” Steamie replied. They saw Toyomitsu’s wide grin falter and felt a pang in their chest. ‘His face is just too cute!’ “Actually, I don’t live far from here, and I have some left-over pastries. They don’t sell like my eclairs.” Anything Steamie baked was delicious, Toyomitsu decided.
“Sure!” He eagerly replied. A grin encompassed his face as the couple walked towards the baker’s apartment.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
The BMI hero sat across Steamie as the baker dove into another work related story. He adored the spark in their eyes, like tiny sprinkles decorating a vibrant treat. A treat he wanted to admire and cherish. Watching Steamie become animated while they talked caused Toyomitsu’s heart to quiver against his ribcage.
Steamie -- to their credit -- truly opened up after several cups of wine; slurring and excited. Their thoughts were no longer accidental blurbs, but drunken fragments.
“...an’ that’s why I don’ keep sugar an’ flour!”
Toyomitsu nodded, tufts of blond feathered around his forehead.
“Wanna touch your cheeks, can I?” The baker asked, their voice small and childlike. This was the first sentence that wasn’t a slurred mess, and yet, Toyomitsu still felt heat bloom in his cheeks.
Gently, Toyomitsu brought their small hand -- that his own dwarfed -- against his cheek. The baker’s touch was warm, like fresh baked bread. Without realizing, the hero nuzzled into Steamie’s palm.
‘So soft…’
“Yeah, you are.” The alcohol had made Toyomitsu brave, lion hearted and flustered.
Pink sprinkled across Steamie’s face as they withdrew their hand and buried their face within their palms. “Sorry,” the baker slurred, “you… You look so ‘oft.”
Toyomitsu chuckled at the mumbled apology. “S’ok, you’re cute.”
Steamie let out a soft gasp, “Cute? Dunno ‘bout that! But I think your cheeks…” They weren’t accustomed to compliments, especially compliments from a teddy bear. ‘Wanna bury myself in his chest.’
“You can.”
Steamie’s face was uncovered and ever red, the baker unable to justify hiding the inferno that burned into their cheeks.
The baker devolved into a red and squealing mess; unable to form coherent sentences, like little pieces of creamy confectionery. The pro hero wondered what their plush lips felt like pressed up against his… They looked so small, so delicate. A treasure he wanted to covet. The hero’s large, calloused finger reached up and quickly swiped across the supple flesh. ‘Like a flower petal,’ Toyomitsu thought.
The baker drifted into Toyomitsu’s lap; scorching and far too big for their frame. “Ya smell ‘ice,” Steamie mumbled and buried their face into the gigantic man’s chest. Fluffy and cozy, like a pillow. “Like a pillow!” Steamie couldn’t help the outburst. Toyomitsu wasn’t a man, but a plushie they wanted to bury themselves in. He was velvety and felt like home. The baker inhaled his scent, trying to memorize the floral notes of his laundry soap. Vanilla and honeysuckle.
Toyomitsu petted their hair, running his fingers through long strands. Even their hair was soft. Steamie was a squishy marshmallow he wanted to keep. He wrapped an arm around their small body, hyper aware of their delicate structure. Warm hands began to rub Steamie’s back as they nuzzled against Toyomitsu’s sweatshirt. ‘Feels like a hug.’
“I know you’re enjoyin’ me, but -- uh -- can I kiss ya?” The alcohol hit him fully now; the hero too enumerated to be bashful. Steamie looked up and was greeted by lemon color eyes that held utter kindness.
Their tongue refused to cooperate, the baker only able to produce a curt nod. Their face was a blazing wildfire, a vibrant array of pinks and rogues.
Slowly, Toyomitsu pressed his chapped lips against the baker’s mouth. The kiss was slow and sloppy, neither party capable of coordinated motion. Toyomitsu brushed his tongue along their lips and tasted sugar. His mind was clouded with lewd thoughts of the baker as he finally broke the kiss; greedy lungs heaving -- desperate for air.
“Ya taste good, wonder what this tastes like,” the pro hero pondered. His hand gently palming between their thighs.
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The Beginning
A/N Here’s the latest fic from the Metric universe. I woke up this morning thinking about how Metric Jamie and Claire might have met. A word of warning: it definitely isn’t a meet-cute. Previous ficlets are available on my AO3 page.
August 12, 2012, The Pride of Spitalfields, London, England
The pub throbbed with the revelry of dozens of thirsty patrons. Jamie grinned at the irony that their arrival had probably thrust the establishment past its occupancy load. He’d just finished a ten hour shift, he was thirsty, and he wouldn’t be filing a fire code complaint anytime soon.
As the rookie at his station, Jamie drew all the short straws. He made the coffee at the start of each shift. He climbed the tower with heavy wet hoses draped over his shoulders. He was on call every night of the past seventeen, as London swelled to bursting with Olympic athletes and spectators. And now that the Games were over, so was his enforced prohibition, but he was still responsible for getting his coworkers their chosen drinks first.
Jamie was blessed with an uncomplaining disposition that made these petty hardships easy to bear, but after three trips between the bar and their overflowing table, having his elbows jostled, ale spilled on his shoes, and, on one notable occasion, his rump squeezed a lewd hand in the heaving crowd, he was more than ready for his long-awaited drink.
“Waddaya mean ye’re out of lager?!”
“Sorry, mate. We’re inside the security zone, so our distributor can’t get ‘is lorry in. I jus’ pulled my last pint for this young lady here.”
Following the barman’s casual hand gesture, Jamie observed the woman on the barstool next to him. She was turned away, chatting with whoever sat beside her, so his first impression was of riotous dark curls, slim shoulders, colt-like legs wrapped in a jean mini-skirt, and an untouched pint of Tennent’s sitting on the bar by her elbow.
He tapped her shoulder. No response. Tapped again, and added a loud but polite “Pardon me,” in order to be heard over the crowd. A pale hand lifted in dismissal was the only indication she had heard him. He was starting to get pissed off, but short of grabbing the beer and making a run for it (both beneath his dignity and having a low degree of probable success, given the close confines of the bar), he was out of options.
Just as he was about to order a whisky instead, the woman finally turned in his direction, and the cacophony all around blurred to nothing. A delicate face, transformed into something fierce by the intensity of her gaze. She was looking imperiously down her nose at him, and it brought to mind a childhood visit to the Edinburgh Zoo; the lioness gazing out of her enclosure with piercing golden eyes.
“Wot?” the lioness demanded, and he dropped back into his surroundings.
“Are ye gonna drink that pint, lass?”
“I beg your pardon?” He had never before considered himself a meek man, but she was putting that hypothesis to the test.
“Yer lager. I asked if ye planned tae drink it. I’d like tae buy it from ye, if no’.”
She spun her knees in his direction, ignoring her companion entirely to focus on him. She wobbled a tiny bit on her stool, and he got the impression she wasn’t entirely sober.
“Let me get this straight,” she pronounced with a faint slur that bordered on a lisp. “You want to know whether I intend to drink my beer? Is that it?”
He nodded, tongue-tied for once.
“For what purpose do you think I purchased it, if not to ingest it?”
He couldn’t tell if she was secretly laughing at him, or furious. He was accustomed to using his dashing good looks (an ex-girlfriend’s turn-of-phrase) and Scottish charm to talk his way into or out of any situation, so her prickly demeanour posed a unique challenge.
“I dinna mean tae infer ye’d only bought a pint for decoration, lass. Only, tis the last lager in the whole place, and I reckon I need it more than ye.”
He recognized his error as soon as the words left his mouth. This was not a woman who took kindly to being told what she did and did not need.
Instead on pouncing on him, she flashed a feline grin and proposed terms for their stand-off.
“That’s an interesting propo-prop-proposition, lad. That you need this pint more than I do. Here’s what we’re going to do. My friend... Geil, get over here... is famously impartial. Now you, sir, are going to plead your case as to why you deserve this pint. I will do the same, and to the victor go the spoils, as it were. Are we agreed?”
He felt very much like a mouse being toyed with by a particularly malevolent cat, but his inherent competitiveness refused to let him back down at this juncture. He sensed he was about to be bested at his own game, but he was looking forward to finding out exactly how.
“Aye, agreed. Ladies first, if ye please.”
“Oh, I bloody well think not. This all started with you coveting my beer. You first.”
Jamie grinned and ran his hand through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts. From across the bar, he could see his mates watching his exchange with this vexing woman, their laughter muffled by the din.
“Aye. Alright. Weel, I’m a firefighter, ken? A probie in my first six months o’ service. My uncle Dougal is my captain, but tae show there’s no favourtism, he gives me all the shitty tasks, the worst shifts. Which means I’ve been on call since the Games began, cooped up inside w’out a drop tae drink an’ a flatmate who snores like a congested hippo, while the entire world ran riot o’side my window.”
He paused here to see if his tale of woe was having any effect, but the lioness merely raised a finely arched eyebrow, as if to say ‘is that all you’ve got?’ He dug his heels in for the long ride.
“An’ when I did get a call-out, twas always some daft drunkard who forgot his beans on the hob watchin’ Mo Farah’s race or somesuch.”
Nary a muscle moved on her face.
“An’ I stubbed my toe somethin’ fierce the o’er night when my flatmate...”
“The congested hippo?” she clarified.
“Aye, the congested hippo. The bastard dragged our couch against one wall sae he could, and I quote, do justice tae Bradley Wiggins. I walked inta it on my way tae take a piss.”
He might have been imagining things, but there was a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth.
“An’ when I was a lad, my big sister convinced me twas a fairie livin’ in my clothes press tha’ stole my socks, an’ since then I canna grab my trousers wi’out crossing my fingers first.”
He wrapped up with his most winning smile, the one usually reserved for his mam and first dates. His adversary observed him dispassionately, but at least her friend, the purported judge of his performance, looked suitably amused.
“That’s it, then? A three week dry spell, a boorish flatmate, and lasting childhood gullibility?”
“Thas’ about it, aye,” he admitted. He supposed, if nothing else, it spoke well to his life thus far that he hadn’t been able to surface any more sympathy-worthy incidents.
The woman raised the controversial pint, and for a fool-hardy moment he thought she was going to hand it to him. Instead, she raised it in mock salute.
“I’m deploying to Afghanistan in the morning,” she said, and took a long drink, her leonine eyes never leaving his over the rim of the glass.
**
Several hours and a couple whiskies later, Jamie stepped out onto the pavement and breathed the relatively cool midnight air. His mates had a good laugh at his expense when he’d returned to their table empty-handed, with neither lager nor the lass’ number.
The door behind him opened, and the woman in question staggered outside, leaning heavily on her much-shorter friend.
“If it’s not the lad who believes in fairies!” she exclaimed upon noticing him. Of all the details for her to remember. He tipped an imaginary cap in their direction.
“An’ how was yer lager, milady?”
“Dee-licious,” she proclaimed before stumbling sideways and nearly pulling her friend down in a heap with her.
“Can I help ye, ladies? Per’aps call ye both a taxi?” he suggested, worried about their ability to navigate home without coming to ruin.
“T’won’t be necessary, lad,” the shorter, red-haired one said. He realized belatedly she was Scottish as well. “We live jus’ down the way. Although... I could use yer brawn to get ‘er up the stairwell, if ye wouldna mind.”
The brown-haired one with the uncanny eyes started to sing to herself.
“I’m so happy I could diiiiiiiiiiiiiiie...”
“Is she always this macabre?” he asked her friend, draping a slack arm over his shoulder and trying to steer her slight weight in the right direction.
“Wouldna ye be, in ‘er shoes?”
“She’s really a soldier, then?” he asked, mystified by this singular creature.
“Army nurse,” her friend clarified, and he found himself relieved. At least she wouldn’t see active duty. Although why he should care was beyond him.
“I canna imagine...” he said, mostly to himself.
“Weel, one man’s combat zone is another woman’s escape route, ye ken?”
He didn’t, but it wasn’t any of his business, and they had already arrived at the door of their building. After a great deal of maneuvering and cursing during which their burden remained only marginally conscious, they finally got her settled in bed with a towel, a basin, a tall glass of water and three paracetamol. Jamie got only a vague impression of her room, but it was surprisingly feminine with wispy drapes and an elaborate print of an ancient city on one wall. He didn’t know what he had been expecting. Camouflage linens, perhaps?
“Thank ye sae much for lending a ‘and, lad,” the redhead spoke as he returned to the tiny living area. “Ach, I dinna even think tae ask yer name!”
“Jamie. Jamie Fraser. An’ twas nae bother. Except fer the lager. Tha’ was blatant cruelty,” he jested.
“Ye didna stand a chance, but ye acquitted yerself admirably, Jamie. Can I offer ye a beer now, as a consolation prize?”
She was looking at him in the particular way that women did, when what they said they wanted wasn’t what they were asking for at all. He considered the situation. It was just past midnight, and he was off the next day. His flat had nothing to recommend except Rupert snoring and passing gas. Her roommate wouldn’t be waking anytime soon. And while she was no lioness, her friend was quite pretty, in her own elfin way.
“Whas’ yer name, lass?” he asked as she handed him a cold bottle.
“Geillis. Geillis Duncan.”
***
January 1, 2015, The Royal London Hospital
His eyes refused to open, so he relied on his other senses to understand this new world. There was heat so intense that it froze. Mechanical bleating. The smell of antiseptic and stench of vomit. An alien rasp that, after countless repetitions, he realized was his breath.
“I need a main line for electrolytes, right now!” He thought he recognized the voice. The whirlpool of sensations was making him nauseous, so he focused on its familiar pitch and cadence.
“...third degree burns extending across sixty percent of his back... Christ, where is that fucking trauma resident?”
A creeping chill started near his elbow and sent icy needles towards his heart. He wanted to panic, but couldn’t draw air into his lungs to scream. The mechanical bleating grew violent.
“It’s alright,” the voice soothed. “Here, take a deep breath.” A pressure around his nose and jaw, followed by the blessed rush of oxygen into his lungs. The hammering of his heart slowed slightly.
“That’s it, soldier. Deep breaths. Can you open your eyes?”
He fought against the heavy weight that seemed to press on him from every angle. The overhead lights were blinding, and he squinted against tears. A blurry smudge hovered above him. Blinking furiously, the smudge resolved into dark curly hair pulled back from a face half-covered in blue surgical garb. Between the horizon of the mask and the heaven of her curls shone the most intense pair of leonine eyes he’d ever seen.
His last conscious thought was that he was happy she made it back safely.
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Written In The Stars LVIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)
A/N: I’ve been reading Anne’s books all weekend and I almost forgot about posting this chapter lmaoo it’s here and queued now so I’m safe. You’re welcome -Danny
Words: 3,686
Warnings: Blood and a tad of violence
Series’ Masterlist
Previous Chapter // Next Chapter
Chapter Seventeen: Under The Whomping Willow.
"Yeh shouldn've come!" Was the first thing Hagrid told them.
He let them in anyway, and they took off the cloak while Hagrid walked around the place giving the impression that the walls were closing around him.
"Wan' some tea?" He asked.
"Where's Buckbeak, Hagrid?" Hermione inquired while sitting down at the table.
"I — I took him outside. He's tethered in me pumpkin patch. Thought he oughta see the trees an' — an' smell fresh air — before —"
He let out a strangled sigh before dropping the milk, causing them to jump.
"I'll do it, Hagrid," Hermione got up again to help him.
"There's another one in the cupboard," Hagrid sat down, nothing but defeat in his voice.
Harry, Ron, and Mel shared the same expression.
"Isn't there anything anyone can do, Hagrid?" Harry asked fiercely, sitting down next to him. "Dumbledore —"
"He's tried," said Hagrid. "He's got no power ter overrule the Committee. He told 'em Buckbeak's all right, but they're scared... Yeh know what Lucius Malfoy's like... threatened 'em, I expect... an' the executioner, Macnair, he's an old pal o' Malfoy's... but it'll be quick an' clean... an' I'll be beside him..."
Hagrid swallowed. His eyes were darting all over the cabin as though looking for some shred of hope or comfort.
"Dumbledore's gonna come down while it — while it happens. Wrote me this mornin'. Said he wants ter — ter be with me. Great man, Dumbledore..."
Hermione, who had been rummaging in Hagrid's cupboard for another milk jug, let out a small, quickly stifled sob. She straightened up with the new jug in her hands, fighting back tears.
"We'll stay with you too, Hagrid," she began, but Hagrid shook his shaggy head.
"Yeh're ter go back up ter the castle. I told yeh, I don' wan' yeh watchin'. An' yeh shouldn' be down here anyway... If Fudge an' Dumbledore catch yeh out without permission, Harry, yeh'll be in big trouble."
Silent tears were now streaming down Hermione's face, but she hid them from Hagrid, bustling around making tea. Then, as she picked up the milk bottle to pour some into the jug, she let out a shriek.
"Ron! I — I don't believe it — it's Scabbers!"
Ron gaped at her.
"What are you talking about?"
Hermione carried the milk jug over to the table and turned it upside down. With a frantic squeak, and much scrambling to get back inside, Scabbers the rat came sliding out onto the table.
"Scabbers!" said Ron blankly. "Scabbers, what are you doing here?"
Mel reached out to get the rat, the brief second her fingers curled around the animal's tail she felt overwhelmed by panic and the inexplicable need to run away. She dropped the creature in spite of Ron's complaints and held her hand up closer to the light.
"It's okay, Scabbers!" said Ron, picking up the rat again. "No cats! There's nothing here to hurt you!"
"Mel," Harry put a hand on her shoulder, the feeling immediately easing her heart. "Are you okay?"
She took a moment, trying to understand what'd just happened.
"I... I think so," She cleared her throat, rubbing her wrist. "Doesn't matter– Thought I saw... nevermind."
Hagrid stood up abruptly, his eyes never leaving the window.
"They're comin'..."
Albus Dumbledore, Cornelius Fudge, the Committee member, and the executioner were approaching at a steady pace.
"Yeh gotta go– They mustn' find yeh here... Go now..."
They collected their things quickly and hid under the cloak once more, Hagrid guided them through the back door where they found Buckbeak nervously moving around the pumpkin patch. They protested all the way while Hagrid kept pushing them further.
"Hagrid, we can't —"
"We'll tell them what really happened —"
"They can't kill him —"
"Go! It's bad enough without you lot in trouble an' all!"
"You're not alone, Hagrid," Mel reassured him. "We'll come back tomorrow."
"Go," His voice broke a little. "Don' listen..."
And so they did as he told, their spirits breaking with each step.
"Please, let's hurry," Hermione mumbled weakly. "I can't stand it, I can't bear it..."
Midway up, Ron stopped moving.
"Oh, please, Ron," Hermione said.
"It's Scabbers — he won't — stay put —" Ron's hand fumbled inside his pocket, fighting with the rat. "Scabbers, it's me, you idiot, it's Ron," He hissed, the animal had bitten his fingers.
"Oh, Ron, please let's move, they're going to do it!" Hermione said with dread.
"Okay — Scabbers, stay put —"
They walked ten steps further when Ron stopped again.
"I can't hold him — Scabbers, shut up, everyone'll hear us —" The rat was squealing and tossing around, desperate to get out of his owner's grip.
"Ron, honestly–" Mel started, but the distinct sound of an axe cutting through made her stop mid-sentence.
The group froze.
"They did it!" Hermione whispered in horror. "I d — don't believe it — they did it!"
"Hagrid," Harry tried to go back, but Ron and Hermione seized his arms.
"We can't," said Ron, momentarily forgetting about Scabbers. "He'll be in worse trouble if they know we've been to see him..."
"How — could — they?" Hermione panted. "How could they?"
"Come on," said Ron, pulling the whole group with him.
They managed to climb all the way up to the open grounds, where Scabbers had gone mad once more.
"Scabbers, keep still! What's the matter with you, you stupid rat? Stay still — OUCH! He bit me!"
"Ron, your elbow!" Mel grumbled, rubbing her left arm.
"Be quiet!" Hermione urged them. "Fudge'll be out here in a minute —"
"He won't — stay — put —"
"What's the matter with him?" Mel huffed, moving away from her friend.
"Crookshanks!" Hermione squeaked. Mel looked forward and saw the tiny creature observing them through the cloak. "No, go away, Crookshanks! Go away!"
"Scabbers — NO!" The rat jumped out of Ron's pocket, and before anyone could stop their friend, he pushed the cloak off his body and ran after it.
"Ron!" Hermione shouted.
Mel took off the cloak as well and ran after Ron, followed by Hermione and Harry.
"Get away from him — get away — Scabbers, come here —" It was hard to see what was going on, Mel heard Ron falling to the ground. "Gotcha! Get off, you stinking cat —"
She stopped a feet away from the boy, Hermione and Harry crashing against her.
"Ron — come on — back under the cloak —" She heard her friend move beside her. "Dumbledore — the Minister — they'll be coming back out in a minute —"
"I can't see!" Mel complained. "This is ridiculous– Lumos!"
The light fell above the shape of a massive, nightmarish black dog.
It jumped the exact moment Mel tried to attack him, throwing her and Harry to the ground and leaping towards Ron, closing its mouth tightly around his arm. The creature dragged him far from reach, and Mel jumped to her feet trying to run after them.
Then she remembered she'd dropped her wand and turned around to search for it when a harsh blow threw her five feet away from where she'd been standing. Her eyes teared up and made it impossible to see, but she heard Harry screams.
"Lumos!"
The Whomping Willow stood proudly above their heads. And there, at the base of the trunk, Ron was sinking.
"Ron!" Harry yelled.
A branch hit him on the side, they couldn't step closer. Mel still hadn't found her wand. One of Ron's legs remained hooked around a root in a strange position. She knew what was going to happen and the awful crack confirmed her fears: Ron's leg had broken, and a moment later, he was gone.
"We've got to go for help —" Hermione had a nasty cut on her shoulder.
"No! That thing's big enough to eat him; we haven't got time —"
"I lost my wand–"
"You didn't," Harry handed it back. "It fell next to me."
"Harry — we're never going to get through without help —"
A new branch tried to hit them, but they jumped out of reach.
"If that dog can get in, we can," Harry insisted.
Mel looked around frantically, she could try to freeze the tree on the spot, but she didn't know if she was strong enough for that.
Crookshanks moved silently between them, he reached the trunk and his front paws clawed at a knot on the base of it. The tree ceased its movements.
"Crookshanks! How did he know — ?"
"He's friends with that dog," said Harry dryly. "I've seen them together. Come on — and keep your wand out —"
They entered the passageway without speaking, the dark silence urging them to find their friend.
"Where's Ron?" Hermione whimpered.
"This way," Harry nudged Mel's arm, pointing to his left.
"Where does this tunnel come out?" Hermione asked.
"I don't know... It's marked on the Marauder's Map but Fred and George said no one's ever gotten into it... It goes off the edge of the map, but it looked like it was heading for Hogsmeade..." Harry explained through pants while he guided the way.
The path wasn't high, and it forced them to almost bend over, Mel was starting to feel pain on her lower back when suddenly it opened abruptly, widened, and twisted once more. It gave away an odd entrance through which they managed to see a room, for the looks of it, the place was abandoned. The windows were boarded up, the furniture dusty and broken.
Harry was the first to walk in, then Mel, and then Hermione.
"I think we're in the Shrieking Shack," Hermione whispered, Mel turned to see her clinging to Harry's arm.
"I think you're right..." Mel replied quietly, her memories matching how it looked the inside with the outside.
"Ghosts didn't do that," Harry signaled to a rusty chair, it was so savagely broken it made her feel weak on the knees.
Something moved on the upper floor and they shared a look, agreeing to walk upstairs and find out what was happening.
"Nox," The lights went off on the three wands.
Only one door was open, and they could see something move behind it. Harry kicked it and walked in with the wand pointing ahead. Ron was on the ground holding his leg and white as paper. The children ran up to him, Mel felt her soul leave her body at the sight of his injury.
"Ron — are you okay?"
"Where's the dog?"
"Not a dog," Ron grunted. "Harry, it's a trap —"
"What —"
"He's the dog... He's an Animagus..."
Mel turned at the same time Harry did. A man stepped forward and slammed the door close.
A mass of filthy, matted hair hung to his elbows. If eyes hadn't been shining out of the deep, dark sockets, he might have been a corpse. The waxy skin was stretched so tightly over the bones of his face, it looked like a skull. His yellow teeth were bared in a grin. It was Sirius Black.
"Expelliarmus!" he croaked, pointing Ron's wand at them.
Suddenly they were at his mercy. There was nothing they could do to help themselves.
"I thought you'd come and help your friend," Black said. His voice resembled a lot a dog's growl. "Your fathers would have done the same for me. Brave of you, not to run for a teacher. I'm grateful... it will make everything much easier..."
Harry tried to throw himself at Black, but Mel and Hermione caught his arms before he could leap forward.
"No, Harry!" Hermione whispered in horror.
"If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too!" Ron yelled. Mel hadn't noticed that her friend had stood up beside her, and she helped him support his weight on her.
Black watched them quietly, Ron was losing blood and although it wasn't a dangerous amount, he still needed to be cured.
"Lie down," The man said. "You will damage that leg even more."
"Did you hear me?" Ron insisted, clutching to Mel's arm. "You'll have to kill all four of us!"
"There'll be only one murder here tonight," Black whispered with a nasty grin.
"Why's that?" Harry's voice came out like venom, she'd never heard him talk like that. "Didn't care last time, did you? Didn't mind slaughtering all those Muggles to get at Pettigrew... What's the matter, gone soft in Azkaban?"
"Harry! Be quiet!" Hermione pleaded.
"HE KILLED MY MUM AND DAD!" Harry roared, and with huge effort he broke free of Hermione's restraint and lunged forward.
The boy punched Black– no magic, not even caring that the man was crazy and ready to kill him in no time. Black's hand enraptured Harry's throat tightly.
"No! I've waited too long —"
Harry choked, Mel was pulling Ron towards the bed panting and feeling her muscles burn, she wanted to help. Hermione took care of it before she could, she launched forward and kicked Black's side. When she made sure Ron was safe, Mel rushed over to them and tried to steal the wands away from the criminal. Everyone got hurt in the fight, Ron screaming indications to help his friends.
"Argh!"
Crookshanks had joined the fray; both sets of front claws had sunk themselves deep into Harry's arm; Harry threw him off, but Crookshanks now darted toward Harry's wand —
"NO YOU DON'T!" roared Harry, and he aimed a kick at Crookshanks that made the cat leap aside, spitting; Harry snatched up his wand and turned —
"Get out of the way!" He screamed.
Harry approached the grim man, pointing right at his chest.
"Going to kill me, Harry?"
"You killed my parents."
"I don't deny it, but if you knew the whole story–"
"The whole story?" Harry asked in disbelief. "You sold them to Voldemort. Mel's dad died because of you! That's all I need to know."
"You've got to listen to me," Black growled. "You'll regret it if you don't... You don't understand..."
"I understand a lot better than you think– You never heard her, did you? My mum... trying to stop Voldemort killing me... and you did that, you did it..."
Crookshanks leaped towards Sirius and curled around his chest
"Get off," Black tried to move him away.
Harry wasn't going to kill him. For starters, he didn't have the knowledge or power to be able to even hurt Black in a serious way. Second, he wasn't a murderer. Mel was waiting for the moment when he would come into terms with that, when a sound came from the first floor.
"WE'RE UP HERE!" Hermione shouted. "WE'RE UP HERE — SIRIUS BLACK — QUICK!"
Harry let out a tiny whimper, imperceptible for the rest but loud enough to know he was forcing himself to stay and face Black, to not look afraid.
"Expelliarmus!"
She felt her wand fly out of her grip and saw her uncle caught the wands with impressive expertise. Harry's chest deflated, an utter look of shame on his features. Mel stepped forward, careful not to scare him, she supported a hand on his shoulder and pulled him away from Black.
"Where is he, Sirius?" Something about the familiarity of the question made her feel scared.
Black, terribly slow, pointed at Ron.
"But then... why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless..." Throughout her life, Mel had seen him recovering from his transformations. This was different, something was changing inside his mind. "— unless he was the one... unless you switched... without telling me?"
Black nodded.
"Professor," Harry was losing his patience. "What's going on — ?"
They froze in place when Lupin lowered his wand and walked over to Sirius, helping him on his feet and... hugging him. Mel felt something breaking in her chest.
She never would've thought... He had known her dad, Harry's parents... He was family!
"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Hermione yelled. "You — you —"
"Hermione —"
" — you and him!"
"Hermione, calm down —"
"I didn't tell anyone!" Hermione shrieked, this time turning to see her. "I've been covering up for you because Mel asked me to—"
"Hermione, listen to me, please!" Lupin insisted. "I can explain —"
"Could you?" Mel heard her own voice, sadder than ever. "I think it's clear..."
"I trusted you," Harry shouted, "and all the time you've been his friend!"
"You're wrong, I haven't been Sirius's friend, but I am now — Let me explain..."
He tried to reach Mel, but she stepped back in anger.
"You're a monster," She said shortly.
A pained expression crossed Lupin's face but he shook it off quickly, stepping ahead.
"Please Mel, this can be fixed–"
"NO!" Hermione pulled her to her side. "Don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too — he's a werewolf!"
Mel didn't speak on his behalf.
"Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione," Lupin said calmly. "Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Harry dead... but I won't deny that I am a werewolf."
Ron whimpered behind her. Lupin noticed he was injured and tried to reach for him as well, but Mel stood between both of them at the exact moment Ron demanded:
"Get away from me, werewolf!"
Lupin stopped, his eyes landed on Mel's, who was deadly quiet. She wasn't going to humor him and speak, he knew that. Instead, he addressed Hermione.
"How long have you known?"
"Ages," Hermione replied. "Since I did Professor Snape's essay..."
"He'll be delighted, He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant... Did you check the lunar chart and realize that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?"
"Both," Hermione said quietly.
Lupin forced a laugh, then he looked back at his niece.
"You knew?"
"Same time as Hermione," She examined the scars across his face as she spoke. "Different reasons."
"You're the cleverest witches of your age I've ever met," He nodded at Mel. "I've known you your whole life... I helped Emily raise you–"
"You did it out of guilt– I don't owe you my upbringing," Mel growled.
"And I'm not clever at all," Hermione added. "If I'd been a bit cleverer, I'd have told everyone what you are!"
"But they already know, at least, the staff do," Lupin explained.
"Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf? Is he mad?"
"Some of the staff thought so, he had to work very hard to convince certain teachers that I'm trustworthy —"
"AND HE WAS WRONG!" Harry shouted so abruptly it made her jump. "YOU'VE BEEN HELPING HIM ALL THE TIME!"
Black dragged himself towards the bed and fell on it tiredly. Ron pulled himself away from him with difficulty and Mel stood next to him protectively.
"I have not been helping Sirius. If you'll give me a chance, I'll explain. Look —"
He threw the wands back to each owner, Harry looked down at his with confusion.
"There," said Lupin, putting his own away on his belt. "You're armed, we're not. Now will you listen?"
Mel and Harry shared a look. She nodded, and the boy continued.
"If you haven't been helping him... How did you know he was here?"
"The map– The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it —"
"You know how to work it?"
"Of course I know how to work it," Lupin brushed it off like it meant nothing. "I helped write it. I'm Moony — that was my friends' nickname for me at school."
"Moony?" Mel repeated.
"You wrote — ?"
"The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you two, Ron, and Hermione might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn't I? You might have been wearing your father's old cloak, Harry —"
"How d'you know about the cloak?"
"Don't you remember?" Mel inquired. "He'd said it before– He was friends with our parents, of course he knows!"
"The number of times I saw James disappearing under it!" Lupin said, acting like it wasn't important. "The point is, even if you're wearing an Invisibility Cloak, you still show up on the Marauder's Map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid's hut. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid and set off back toward the castle. But you were now accompanied by somebody else."
"What?" said Harry and Mel at the same time. "No, we weren't!"
"I couldn't believe my eyes, I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?"
"No one was with us!" Harry denied.
"And then I saw another dot, moving fast toward you, labeled Sirius Black... I saw him collide with you; I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow —"
"One of us!" Ron yelled.
"No, Ron," said Lupin, pacing around. Mel noticed -unsure of how to feel about it- that she had the same mannerisms whenever something wouldn't leave her mind. "Two of you. Do you think I could have a look at the rat?"
"What?" said Ron. "What's Scabbers got to do with it?"
"Everything," said Lupin, stopping his walk. "Could I see him, please?"
Ron hesitated and glanced at Mel. She thought that at the end of the day, it didn't sound like a life or death risk, so she told him it was alright. Ron grabbed Scabbers by the tail and offered it to the Professor. Lupin inched closer.
"What?" Ron pressed, taking the animal away from Lupin's excruciating look. "What's my rat got to do with anything?"
"That's not a rat," Black said hoarsely.
"What d'you mean — of course he's a rat —"
"No, he's not," Lupin said miserably. "He's a wizard."
"An Animagus... by the name of Peter Pettigrew."
Next Chapter —>
Taglist.
@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @mikariell95 @omiwashere @tomshollandz @steve-thotgers @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @thesuitelifeofafangirl
#twoidiots writing#hp fanfic#Harry Potter#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter xoc#rubeus hagrid#Remus Lupin#sirius black#WITT fic
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If you are doing requests, Maybe after battle snuggles?
Of course I do :) Thanks for submitting a beautiful idea :D I hope you’ll like it :)
"Gosh that was a long day…"
"Hoo-hoo!"
"Sorry Hootsy, yeah, I'll give ya food. Oh Christ, you need water too, don't you?"
The Australian had come out of the shower and was now in his van with his feathery companion, Sir Hoots-a-lot, his pet owl.
"There you go mate, and sorry I forgot about it this morning. I was in a bit of a rush…"
The bird was fully focused on his meal such that his master felt that he could relax. But a knock on the door of his modest dwelling interrupted his plan.
"Who's that?"
"Who do you think?"
Sniper's lips pursed up in a smile before he could control it and he opened the door.
"May I? I can come back later if the time is ill-chosen."
"No, no, come in."
The man in the suit stepped in.
"I heard you talk to someone so I was unsure of your availability."
"I was just chattin' with Hootsy. Besides, that didn't prevent you from knockin', eh?"
"Indeed it did not stop me."
Both were standing up and watching the owl.
"So, why did you come? Need somethin'?"
"Oui."
"What is it?"
"Your company."
Sniper blushed.
"It is quite late in the night and I saw you during dinner, Bushman. You ate like two or maybe three…!"
"Yeah, the enemy Spy gave me a rough time today. Found myself running and watchin' out for my back more than usual. Made me hungry… and tired actually."
"Shall we lay down maybe?" The Frenchman suggested.
"What? Here? In me van?"
"Oui."
"I thought you hated it."
"And I do. I just can bear the idea of you being tired even less. We can go to my room if you want, but if you don't want to move, here is perfect."
The Australian pondered for a second. Was it a trick from his friend in the mask?
"Uhm… Uh… Y-you sure?"
"Oui. I am being straight with you, or as straight as I can be." Spy chuckled at his own play on words.
"Roight, let's stay here then, if that's ok with you."
"But of course, you lead the way."
Sniper removed his shoes and climbed up his bed. Spy imitated him and removed his jacket before joining him. They laid in bed, each on their sides, looking at the other in the eyes. There was a ceiling window above their heads through which they could only see the dark sky, scintillating with a million stars.
"Spy?"
"Hm?"
"Thanks."
"What for?"
"Spendin' yer time with me. Y'know, you come to my van and you're uh… You're just bein' nice. It's a good thing, I like it."
"You almost sound surprised."
"A bit yeah, maybe."
"But Sniper, I thought my intentions were clear with you, non?"
"Well… You're a bloke who likes mysteries and you can understand stuff that people barely say so I guess for you, yeah, everythin' couldn't be clearer. But me? I'm simple, see? I uh… You need to tell me things directly. Besides, you're the spy here so nobody knows when you're really tellin' the truth or when you're playin' around."
The Frenchman grinned in a comforting way.
"My reputation blurs your vision. Things are much easier than that. I play around as you say, only when necessary. In my private life, I have gone through enough to know that honesty is key. So I will be honest with you, Sniper."
His hand hovered to the Australian's cheek and when it touched it, Sniper realised that his friend had got rid of his gloves. He was touching his cheek with his bare hand…!
"I love you, simple as that. I merely have feelings for you that make me long for you. You are on my mind, constantly, and I wouldn't have it any other way."
Spy's thumb brushed the marksman's rough skin on the cheek up until his sideburn.
"I think very few people see through the yellow-tinted glasses that you like so much to wear. Shame for them, luck for me, for I have learnt to know the man behind them and I am not ashamed to say that I like him more than perhaps I should."
Sniper's jaw had dropped and he lowered his eyes to hide his blush that the Frenchman couldn't see anyway because of the dark. But Spy felt it of course.
"Come here, mon amour."
[My love.]
Spy pulled Sniper closer until the Australian's head was laying on his chest. He was using Spy's chest as a pillow and hearing the Frenchman call him 'mon amour' made him feel a million shivers on his skin and inside.
"I think not a lot of people see the sensitive man that you hide. But I can."
"Like you."
Spy's eyebrows jumped and in his surprise, silence fell. Sniper raised his head and looked up at him.
"Look, you're the most romantic bloke I've ever met. You have no shame of showin' that you have feelings, you're not afraid to say that you… I mean…"
"That I love you?"
"Y-yeah."
"You may say it too, if that is indeed what you feel." Spy brushed his lover's back with one hand while the other slid through his hair, on the back of his head. "I don't understand why we, as men, should hide our feelings. Doesn't it make us less human? Non, I say we should be more honest about it all."
"You're roight…" Sniper had closed his eyes. The gentle head massage from Spy was working wonders. The man knew exactly how to knead his scalp, where to run through his hair, in which direction. It was fantastically enjoyable.
"I love you too, I think."
"You think? Are you unsure?"
"S-sorry, I don't mean it in a bad way. I-I just know that I miss you when you're not with me and uh, well, I feel special when you are so close to me. I don't think I've felt that with anyone before. I mean I've felt things with sheilas, but it wasn't in my chest…"
Spy smiled.
"Then let me tell you that what you are feeling with me is romantic love and what you felt with them was only lust."
The Australian blushed out of shame and buried his head deeper in his lover's chest. He clung to his white shirt dearly. Spy felt Sniper's fingers claw in his sides.
"What is the matter?"
"Hmm-mhh-hm-mmh." The muffled voice answered.
"Mon amour, I cannot understand, look up here."
Sniper reluctantly did as he was told.
"It's the first time I'm feeling this… At my age… Bloody shameful it is."
"Non. I see it as a miracle. God preserved you from all the harm that one can only feel if you share those tremors in the heart. Believe me, a heartbreak can sometimes take years to heal, long painful years before you meet with the sweetest Australian man there is."
Sniper looked away. Spy knew how to make his cheeks warm and red.
"Don't be ashamed."
"I'm not ashamed." Sniper slid his hands between the mattress and Spy's back. He laced his arms around him and squeezed him warmly. His head rose and fell under his lover's slow breath. The Frenchman continued to let his fingers lazily play with the Aussie's brown locks of hair.
"What is it then?"
"Bugger, I just… I love you, Spook, I really do."
Both wore a peaceful smile under the stars shining through the ceiling window. The embrace they shared was soft and warm, much like the buzzing they felt in their hearts.
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A Trip to the Mainland (Taiyuu cooking event) (?)
@taiyuu-high-oct
A Train from Taiyuu Island to Mainland Japan took a couple hours, hours of ocean, boredom and more ocean. Staring at the TV, Zeke remembered a time before Taiyuu, before Japan even.
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A small town on the coast of Germany, a large building, a small apartment.
A teenager enters, around 17 years old, wiping his feet and looking around, the clock reads 8pm. He spotted his younger brother in the living “room” by himself watching cartoons. The younger one couldn’t be older than 9.
“Hey, kiddo. Where’s Mum?”
“She got called into work.”
Frustrated in his mother’s irresponsibility and lack of note, the older brother tried to keep the conversation going as he made his way to the kitchen.
“Whatcha doing?”
“Watchin TV.”
“Oh, so you found the remote?”
“No.”
Flick. The channel changed.
Opening the pantry the older brother found… half a loaf of bread and a whole lot of empty space.
“Have you had anything to eat yet?”
“No. Mum was gonna get groceries but she got called into work.”
Biting his fist in frustration, the older brother pounded the pantry door with his head. Silently seething in anger the older brother put on a happy face, the older brother came out and sat next to the younger brother.
“Let’s go out for dinner tonight, just you and me.”
“Won’t Mum and Dad get angry?”
“They’ll never know, I got a little extra money from work today.”
“I mean… sure.”
“Alright, get your stuff ready and we’ll leave in a few.” The older brother wrote a note for their Mother, if she returned home tonight.
When the two got ready and were almost out the door, the younger brother stopped.
“Umm... Schlaut?”
“What’s up Zeke?”
“Are you sure Mum and Dad won’t find out?”
“Hey, we’ll leave our trash in a public bin, they’ll never know.”
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Finally on the Mainland of Japan Zeke had a couple trips to make.
The first stop for today was to withdraw money, but look like a cool guy, Sunglasses on. Wandering around the Whatever City, Zeke can’t remember what it’s called, he started to get his bearings.
‘Alright, grocery shop’s there, post office’s there and-’
Zeke felt a rumble down to his core.
‘It’s going to be a thunderstorm tonight.’
Finally finding an ATM in Whatever City, that took forever. Taking his “Credit” Card out Zeke approached the ATM, noone was nearby anyway but he still felt he had to play the part.
Feeling the ATM Zeke felt all the different compartments, searching for the most used 4, Zeke found what he needed.
Trying the first one: Whirr, Zzzt And Dispense. 1000 Yen, not quite what he needed.
Next compartment: Whirr, Zzzt and Dispense. 5000 Yen, close but not the notes he needed.
The Third compartment: Whirr, Zzzt and Dispense. 10,000, exactly what Zeke needed.
Grabbing an extra 13 10k Yen bills Zeke had enough to pay for his tuition, with some left over.
That wasn’t right, only take what you need. Zeke remembered when this all became second nature to him, why quickly searching these machines became so easy.
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“That’d be 50 Euros sir.” A cashier lady, in a large mall grocery store.
“I’m really sorry, can you wave it just this once?” Schlaut, now at the age of 19, pleaded to the cashier holding a 20 Euro note.
“I’m sorry sir, if you couldn’t afford it you shouldn’t have picked it up.”
“But this is all we have for the week, we’ll go hungry without this food.” Schlaut
“Then get 20 Euros worth of food or get out of the store.”
“Fine. C’mon Zeke we’re outta here.” Zeke, now 11 years old, followed his brother out of the store.
“What’s the plan now Schlaut?”
“I dunno kiddo, we’ll figure something out.”
It wasn’t long into the usual walk home when they walked past an ATM, it’s screen illuminating the sidewalk. The screen flickered strange colours, reds, blues even a neon green. Schlaut paused, did a slow turn on his feet and paced to the ATM.
“Zeke?”
“Yeah Schlaut?”
“Are you doing that?”
Zeke’s stiffened and he turned his face away from his brother.
“Zeke look at me.”
Zeke reluctantly looked at his Older Brother, the pupils of his brown eyes glowing a slight blue.
“Did I do something wrong?” Zeke was looking at the ground in shame.
“No no no no nononono nono, no Zeke. You did something very, very right.” Schlaut hadn’t felt this excited in a while.
“Let’s play a game Zeke, see if you can find some paper in this machine.” Schlaut pointed to the ATM.
“You mean money, isn’t that stealing?” Zeke was willing to do this, but he wasn’t very happy about it.
“Hey, we’re only going to take what we need ok? No more. We’re not villains, we’re survivors. See if you can find a 20 note and a 10 note.” Zeke had found a way to save us!
“Ok. I’ll try.”
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Returning back to the present Zeke held about 2000 Yen too much in his hands. The fridge at Taiyuu was running low, this money seems appropriate for everyone to use.
Zeke went to that small grocery store he passed by earlier. Fresh fruits and vegetables, that’s what Taiyuu needed, none of that instant shit. Apples, carrots, broccoli and one pack of the cheapest Cup Noodles he could find.
‘How would the others at Taiyuu react? I don’t think Sako or Spellman would be particularly fond of me anymore. Ah well, they won’t find out. All the years of pulling this same stunt we were only found out once.’
Zeke paid a total of 1962 yen.
“Have a good day.”
“Yeah, you too.”
‘Only found out once.’
Supermarket (Schlauts Quirk)
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“How’s that Zeke, just enough to get us through this week. Mum should have the day off tomorrow so we’ll cook a whole bunch then.” Schlaut, now 21, said to his brother Zeke, now 13.
“Yeah, maybe Dad’d have time to help as well.”
“I doubt it kiddo.”
RUUUUUUMMMBBBBBLEEE
“We should get going before it rains, seems like a storm is brewing.
Off they were on the usual walk home, Through an empty courtyard, groceries in hand. Not too much, just enough to get by.
“Hey Asshole!”
Schlaut turned, almost like he was expecting this.
“Yes, Gregory?”
A potbellied man, more of a sphere than a man, called out to the two.
“You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us.”
“Us?” Zeke panicked.
“There’s about 4 of them, stay behind me Zeke.”
“What, who are you talking about, how do you know these people?”
“It’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”
3 other men came up from behind the Sphere Man. One looked too long to be normal, another looked like a leaf man, the last one had spines coming out of his back.
“Yeah, not so tough are ya now there’s more of us.” Sphere man said, he sounded like he was from New York, which is weird because this is Germany.
“Huh, Good one boss.” The Leaf Man said, he had a very deep voice.
“Yeah, good one boss.” The Spine Man said, he had a very snively voice.
“Hehehe, heheh hehehe hehehe” The Long Man said, he had a very creepy laugh.
“You made it easier for me.” Schlaut butted in, sounding far too confident for a 4 on 1 fight.
RUUUUMMMMMMMBLLLLLLEEEEE
Long Man reached over and punched Sphere Man in the face.
“Aaaah, Tony, whaddya doin? Hit him not me!” Sphere Man was both confused and angry
“Heheheh, heheh, Hehehehhe!” The Long Man’s laugh seemed very panicked and confused.
Leaf Man punched Spine Man, Spine Man grabbed Long Man. It was a free for all, none of the assorted goons and henchmen ever came near Schlaut and Zeke, Zeke leaned over Schlauts shoulder.
“What are they doing Schlaut? Why are they here?” Schlaut looked back at his younger brother.
“Don’t worry, Zeke, they’re taking care of it themselves.” Schlaut looked at Zeke for a moment, just one moment was all it took for Zeke to notice the slight red glow from his brother's pupils.
It wasn’t too long before the four strangers were all on the ground unconscious. Not once did the 4 even take a step towards the Funkee brothers.
“Let’s go Zeke, it’s all taken care of.”
“But… but-”
“Let’s GO Zeke.”
RUUUUMMMMMMMBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBLLLLLLEEEEE
They turned to continue on their way home, when Zeke heard skidding. No. Rolling? Turning around in curiosity Zeke saw Sphere Man rolling towards them, like a ball. A very angry ball.
“Schlaut, look out!” Zeke jumped, panicked and….
FLASH
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Not done for the day yet, still gotta send a letter off to Mum back in Germany, quick visit to the Posty and back to Taiyuu. Card, letter, shipping. Totaling 300 yen, that is cheap!
Hey Mum,
Taiyous Taiyuus going great, i think im really hitting it off with everybody here. This place seems more my style than uA anyway. Theres a whole bunch of really weird people here. One person can even shapeshit shapeshift!
Anyway hows things with you, hows the new job in France?
Has Schlaut come back yet?
Love,
Zeke
“Just one letter, wouldn’t a text be better?” The teller was confused.
“It’s just a little tradition we have. Notes and written things are easier to keep anyway.”
Zeke made his way back to Taiyuu, hours on the train, again. The news reports were going on about a villain by the name “The King”. Luckily Taiyuu covered the costs of going back to Mainland Japan. Making his way back to the kitchen area Zeke deposited the fruits and veggies into the communal fridge. However, Zeke kept the Noodle Cup.
Zeke set the kettle to boil and thought of the day everything changed, the day Schlaut left. There was no bang, there was no warning. Around when Zeke was 13 Schlaut just, poof, gone. The whole family thought he was dead for months until Zeke’s 14th birthday, where Zeke got an RC car, brand new and very high end. It came with a note.
Hey Kiddo, Happy Birthday. Sorry I couldn’t be there this year
Noone ever really bothered Zeke again, of course Zeke still had his friends but noone bullied, assaulted or even annoyed him again. The icecream place even gave him a discount. Teachers were a whole lot nicer, even recommending him to hero courses like UA: LA, Shiketsu and Seijin. That was 2 years ago.
The screech of the kettle brought Zeke out of his thoughts. Filling his Cup Noodles with boiling water Zeke had made a shitty meal at Taiyuu.
BOOOOOOOMMMMMM
“Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot.”
Maybe not.
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Re-watching S2E12 in an effort to gather my thoughts
LOVE that we’re getting backstory on this prison world nonsense. Finally.
“Who could have set him free?” the kids your dumb dad sent here, because he’s dumb.
TELL HER IT’S NOT ALL HER FAULT YOU DUMB IDIOT
I’m rly gonna be in pain watchin these sizzie scenes knowing how it all ends. ugh. ughhhh. she cares so much.
and he’s just...a little bit Not Okay
Karaoke Kai is the best Kai, no questions asked
baby josie really rivals baby yoda. Fight me, I dare you
of course bby josie loves the witch who does fire, what a shocker
“Come with me if you wanna live.” bad idea. Nope. No way.
Linda or Joanie lmao I will never get over that
Supernatural hunger games, I fucking love him
“Bon-Bon” be still, my heart. The worst, most toxic ship in the world and I still love it
lmao he’s such a fucking chaotic MESS, my GOD
we’re gonna gloss over this awful werewolf look. where is the budget
BEARD BROS
Rewatching this honestly makes me feel sad for Sebastian. I know you all know VERY WELL how I feel about this whole thing. But like...ugh, idk. I don’t know if he loves Lizzie, but I think he just wants to start over with the closest thing he had to Cassandra, because AGAIN, he has had like no real time move past it
I was honestly afraid I wouldn’t like this episode, because as much as I like Josie, I’ve been kind of lukewarm about her lately. But she’s been fun to watch so far. These Kai interactions give me life.
“What exactly are you bringing to this partnership, Because from where I stand I’m the only one of us who’s not useless?” Okay RUDE but solid burn.
the teddy bear. the Bonnie crumbs. I’m so upset. I miss her so much.
I loveeee how he’s lowkey proud of Josie, ugh
Meanwhile, in the Lizzie Show where she gets to be happy for five god damn minutes. (she’s killin it in that dress. He’s killin it in...everything. I hate this)
Like she was really just trying to live her best fairytale life and he had to RUIN IT
hellll yeahhhhh put Alaric on trial, you go girl
“While you’ve been playing checkers I’ve been playing chess” ICONIC
they literally play supernatural hunger games for fun, I can’t even
“Couldn’t have done it with out you kid.” ughhh and then kissing her foreheard, GOD HE’S SO FUCKING MENACING WHEN HE WANTS TO BE
gotta find a way to write an AU where Sebastian doesn’t do The Bad Thing because these sizzie scenes are fucking me up.
“Doubling down in the face of imminent death. Ballsy.” That’s it, that’s the whole TVD-verse in a nutshell.
This whole scene with the prison world kids killing the humans is SO Vampire Diaries, I’m having flashbacks.
I’m actually surprised they brought back the humanity switch thing, I really didn’t think they would. Idk how I feel about it. Idk how I feel about it.
Lizzie I support you and I love you
“What I’m offering isn’t a choice.” Again, ugh. Terrible decision, Seb, but it was such a TVD moment. I got chills.
Sebastian is like...clearly fucked up emotionally. If Julie Plec does not address this, I will riot. His character does not deserve the hate because of some shitty writing and I stand by that.
All that said, “I think we should see other people.” was such a badass line lmao
KAI you motherfucker, you were really gonna leave your stupid delinquent friends. Fuck yeah though, Josie’s the bad bitch I needed her to be all along.
God, Kai is so annoying and I am so thirsty.
Oh man, I have so reactions. Dark Josie?! Possible heretic Lizzie!? KAI IN THE REAL WORLD, Y’ALL BETTER WATCH OUT.
This episode was literally one of my top five favorites for sure (MG’s “The Boy Who Still Has A Lot of Good To Do” episode is actually still my #1). Very reminiscent of TVD, even the Lizzie/Sebastian scenes. I can’t wait for next week. Julie, you crafty bitch.
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