#a new fic coming next month/august
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I was missing your writing so I started rereading Love in the dark yesterday and wow! I didn't expect you to upload anything today :D Can't wait to read it!! thank you <3
Ah thank you so much!!! You are too nice. I can't believe there's a soul out there who still read love in the dark, that fic must be 2/3 years old now?!
Hope you enjoy it! <3
#a new fic coming next month/august#and then we will be in longggg drought#while I try to finish my mob au#lovely darling
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a/n: anon(s)! baby fic is here!! apologies for the wait but it’s long and i hope it’s worth it ☺️ honestly this fic feels like total chaos but i kind of love the vibes. not too much to say other than this was fun to write and i think we’re done on svechnikov baby birth fics lol
word count: 6.4k
tw: mentions of labor, brief innuendo, post partum anxiety (not diagnosed in fic)
summary: it’s time for baby svechnikov number four to make their entrance into the world and of course it’s chaos in the best possible way
“Mama!” Alina shrieks for your attention and your heart skips a beat at her volume, mild fight or flight kicking in before you catch sight of her in the doorway and see that she’s fine.
“Christ,” you mutter to yourself, heartbeat returning to normal. The baby gives a violent kick to your kidney and you wince. “Sorry, bub,” you pat the side of your stomach, “that hit of adrenaline couldn’t have been fun.”
Alina shouts for you again and you level her with a stern look, “hey, what did Mama tell you about shouting like that?”
You’re too pregnant to be gentle parenting, but if you don’t remind Alina about her indoor voice, she’ll just run rampant over the next few months while you’re completely distracted with the new baby. She shuffles her feet and pulls at the little ruffles on the sides of her bathing suit.
“No shoutin’ unless someone’s bleeding or really, really sick,” she sighs and when you nod, she perks up with a toothy little grin. “But I had to shout ‘cause Papa says your frone is ready!”
“My frone?” You repeat, brows scrunched together in confusion. You repeat the word a few times under your breath until it clicks. “Oh! My throne?”
Alina nods and does a little wiggle, bouncing on her feet. “Come on, mama! We wanna show you!” She’s definitely still shouting, but your middle daughter has never understood the concept of an inside voice.
You smile at her and laugh, “okay, mama’s coming, Alya. Remember I’m very slow.” You brace one hand at your lower back, the other hand rubbing at the side of your distended belly. As scary as it is, you’re glad that you’re being induced tomorrow - your entire body is sore and your back and hips are killing you from carrying around this giant Svechnikov baby. Your actual due date isn’t for another week, but since baby’s measuring so big, your ob/gyn made the call for a scheduled induction.
“Mama’s like a tuuuurtle,” she grins slyly, skipping back to the yard and leaving you shaking your head.
As soon as you get to the back door, you can feel the mid-August Raleigh heat and humidity, sweat already prickling at your hairline and armpits. You frown, already uncomfortable and not really in the mood to go outside. Leaving the air conditioning is going to be miserable, but the girls were begging you to join them and Andrei outside, so how could you resist. You scrape your hair back into a knot on top of your head, trying to keep as much of it off your neck as possible. Little pieces fall out anyway and curl with the humidity.
You wedge your feet into the pair of Adidas slides at the back door and step carefully over the lip onto the back patio. The heat hits instantly and you frown, cranky. The baby jabs an elbow into your side and you wince - there’s absolutely no room left in your stomach and every time the baby moves, you’re painfully reminded of that. You hadn’t even realized your stomach could stretch this much, but baby number four is testing the limits.
“Maaaaamaaaaa!” Alina and Kira shriek for you in stereo and you wave from the door, reluctant to go outside into the heat.
“Mama’s coming,” you call back, bracing a hand under the curve of your belly and waddling farther out onto the patio. The air feels like soup and you have no idea how Andrei and the girls are so energetic. Before you can make it a handful of feet, Andrei’s at your side, kissing your temple and wrapping an arm around your waist. “Hi,” you murmur.
“Hi,” he smiles down at you, looking a little tired. His face is bright pink too, which you had warned him would happen. “Off to your throne, solnyshka.”
You let him guide you over the grass, avoiding the lawn toys and stray Barbie dolls that litter the ground. You’re perfectly capable of walking on your own, but it’s nice to lean your weight against Andrei’s side and have him help you. “Did you reapply sunscreen?” You ask, knowing the answer. Besides his face, his shoulders, chest, and arms are all tinged pink too.
He wrinkles his face at you. “I think once? I’m fine,” he shrugs and stops in front of your throne.
It’s one of your beach chairs settled in front of the girls’ old baby pool, an umbrella stuck in the grass behind the chair.
You grin at Andrei as the girls sprint up and dance around you.
“Do you love it, Mom?” Evie bounces excitedly on her toes. “That way you can watch us play!”
“I love it!” You cup Evie’s cheek in one hand, ruffling Alina’s hair with the other. “This is the best throne ever, you guys are making me feel so special.”
“Only the best for our koroleva,” Andrei winks at you, hoisting Kira up onto his hip when she starts tugging at the hem of his swim trunks. She grins her little toddler grin at you and then whispers in Andrei’s ear, a chubby little hand splayed on his cheek. He nods seriously and says, “yes, Mama will watch you go down the slide.”
You laugh and lower yourself into the chair, your lower back popping and protesting. A little groan slips past your lips and all four of your watchdogs whip their heads in your direction. The girls have wide eyed looks on their faces and you offer up a comforting smile, “sorry, girls. Mama’s okay, remember it’s hard for me to sit so low.”
A brief bout of Braxton Hicks two weeks earlier had taken you by surprise and your startled yelp and the way you had doubled over from the shock had scared the girls a little, so they’re insanely keyed into any weird noise you make lately.
“Why don’t you get Mama’s drink?” Andrei sets Kira back on her feet and nudges the three of them off with his hands. After they skip off, Andrei helps you swing your legs up and over so your feet kick in the cool water in the baby pool.
You sigh happily, dropping your head back, “oh god, that feels good. It’s hotter than Satan’s ass crack out here.”
The baby kicks, the outline of a little foot visible through the taut skin on your stomach, as if agreeing with you.
Andrei scratches at his jaw, rasping his fingers through a couple of days’ worth of stubble. “It’s not so bad, when you have the girls spraying you with the hose every two minutes,” he laughs a little, squatting down next to you and shaking his head so stray droplets of water fly off of his hair. Your face crinkles up and you swat at him, giggling. He taps at the side of your stomach, hand warm against your skin. “The little one is behaving?”
“In the loosest sense of the word,” you sigh, shifting in the chair, trying to get comfortable. “I’m kind of ready to get my lung capacity back.”
His hands stroke over the swell of your stomach, the baby’s arms and legs following Andrei’s touch. You pluck at the white linen fabric of your dress where it’s stuck to your skin with sweat, regretting the choice of clothing. “Tell me when you want to go inside,” Andrei says. “Girls will be fine if you’re not watching the water war.”
You hum, swishing your feet in the water. “A little vitamin D is probably good for me,” your smirk matches Andrei’s when the double entendre is out in the air. It’s been a minute since you had Andrei inside of you, too uncomfortable for the exertion, and you miss having him that way. The horny days of your second trimester are long in the rearview mirror.
Before he can say anything, the girls come running from the house, ice rattling around in the Stanley that Evie’s got clutched in her arms. You grin at the sight - your oldest leading the charge with her younger sisters following dutifully behind. Evie unceremoniously drops the cup on your lap with a chirpy, “here, Mama! Daddy even added lemon for you.”
“Oh, my favorite,” you reach out to tug on one of Evie’s braided pigtails and she beams at you before dancing away, Alina hot on her heels. Kira presses her little body up against your thigh and looks at you with puppy eyes. “What’s the matter, Kiry?”
“I have?” She asks, pointing at your Stanley.
You nod and hold the cup out for her, straw pointed in her direction. She plants her hands on the metal and chews a little on the straw while she sucks back more water than you expected. Andrei laughs a little when she gulps down the water, releasing the straw with a heavy sigh and then runs off, shrieking for her sisters.
“Adding another one to this chaos is going to be wild,” he comments, leaning back and splashing his hand in the pool water, hitting your shins with little droplets.
“Poor number four is either going to be the loudest to be heard or the quietest with three big sisters talking for them,” you giggle, tracing your fingers over the engraved 37 on the Stanley - the WAG Christmas gift that keeps on giving. You get a particularly painful kick to the ribs and wince, muttering, “maybe that first option.”
“Dadddeeeeeee!” A trio of shrieks echo across the yard, the girls calling for Andrei to rejoin them. He stands up and presses a kiss to the crown of your head.
“Duty calls,” he gives you a little salute and jogs off, leaving you to enjoy the way his ass fills out his bathing suit. It’s a view that never gets old, but even better is watching Andrei chase the girls around and play with them, matching grins on all four of their faces. He chases them through the sprinklers - if those have been on all morning, your water bill is going to be through the roof - and lets them splash him, pretending to get scared. He watches while the two older girls clamber up the side of the small inflatable water slide you’d ordered back in June when it was obvious that the majority of the summer was going to be spent in Raleigh, with the girls running loose in the backyard.
Kira stays at the bottom, in the splash zone, shrieking happily when Evie and Alina zip down the slide and hit her with water.
It’s honestly the best thing you’ve ever bought - the Nečas kids have been over for play dates at least once a week to run wild in the water and you’ve had a ton of the other guys and their families over for barbecues and parties. Now, you’re just glad it’ll keep your girls occupied while you relax.
After you’ve been outside for an hour or so, you call them all back so you and Andrei can reapply sunscreen to the girls’ pink little faces and shoulders. Andrei gets his own healthy dose of sunscreen, even though it’s too late for him to avoid the sunburn on his face, chest, and shoulders. You make a mental note to throw a bottle of aloe into the fridge when you get inside.
“I hate this, Mama!” Alina whines, bouncing from foot to foot while you try to cover her face in Baby Coppertone. “It’s yucky and sticky and I don’t want it!”
“If you don’t let me reapply,” you huff, out of breath from trying to keep her still between your knees and your severely diminished lung capacity, “your skin is going to turn pink and hurt.”
“I want pink skiiiin!” Alina howls, dodging your sunscreen covered hands and running off, her face a little mask of white from the lotion you hadn’t been able to rub in properly. She disappears into the playhouse and you roll your eyes, giving up completely. You’re too exhausted to fight her and tomorrow’s sunburn will be a problem for the babysitting grandparents while you push out the bowling ball baby laying on your bladder.
Behind you, Andrei laughs and teases you, “just like her Mama, that one.”
“Absolutely not,” you grumble, holding out your hands to him so he can pull you to your feet. “I’m literally so quiet and agreeable.”
“Maybe when you’re sleeping,” Andrei scoffs, helping you step out of the pool. His palm finds the side of your stomach like a magnet, fingers spread over the swell protectively. “Otherwise, you’re stubborn like a bull.” He pauses, smirks. “And loud.”
“You’re terrible,” you mutter, waddling as fast as you can to the bathroom. “Bullying the woman who’s carrying your fourth giant baby.”
Andrei’s voice carries through the bathroom door as you shut it behind you, “this is only the second big baby! The other two were normal sized.”
Later, when it’s far past your bedtime and you still can’t sleep with excitement and nerves swirling low in your belly, you whisper into the dark of your bedroom, “Drei? Are you awake?”
It takes a second, but eventually he replies, “depends.”
“On what?” You reply quietly, shifting and bending your leg so you can open up your hip a little and relieve some of the uncomfortableness. Kira curls closer to you, one arm draped over your stomach, the thumb of her other hand wedged firmly in between her lips. She looks even more like a baby while she sleeps, long eyelashes fluttering against the tops of her cheeks, and you start to feel emotion clogging your throat. Her last night of being the family’s baby. You hadn’t had the heart to put her back in her own bed when she came wandering in a few hours ago.
“On what you need from me,” Andrei’s voice is clouded with sleep, but you see and feel him roll onto his side so he’s facing you.
You stick your tongue out at him lightly. “Last night as a family of five,” you murmur. “Any final guesses - fourth girl or first boy?”
“Girl,” Andrei replies on a yawn, reaching his hand out and over Kira to rub at your belly. “Belly looks the same as it did with all three, just bigger.”
He’s not wrong, but, “agreed. But only because I think my nose spread out again like with the girls.”
“You’re just as beautiful as always,” Andrei says.“Your nose looks the same too.”
You’re convinced he’s lying, but there’s no point in arguing now.
“Think we’ll see bub tomorrow or will it be a couple of days?” You yawn, exhausted but wired. You can’t decide if you have to pee or if it’s just the pressure of the baby.
“Tomorrow,” Andrei laughs a little, “if the kid knows what’s good for her.”
You yawn again and Andrei tells you to get some rest, “it’s going to be a busy few days, solnyshka.”
Somehow you manage to fall asleep and then it’s induction day, a hectic morning consisting of four grandparents showing up and three little girls bouncing around asking if their baby is coming yet. You’re overwhelmed by the time Andrei helps you into the passenger seat of the Navigator, kissing you gently.
“Calm, my love,” he murmurs against your lips, rubbing at your stomach. “We know what to do, right?”
You nod, “right.” Wrapping your fingers in the neck of his t-shirt, you tug Andrei back in for another kiss. “Let’s go have a baby!”
Twelve hours later, you’re dripping in sweat, contractions gripping your stomach every thirty seconds with regularity. Andrei’s eaten lunch, dinner, and then a second dinner around 8:30. You, on the other hand, are on your ninth cup of ice chips and are dying for something that will actually fill you up.
You hold out your hand for Andrei’s when another contraction starts and he lets you crunch his fingers together while you breathe through it. “More ice?” He asks, brushing frizzy, damp strands of hair off your forehead.
“No,” you huff, slumping back against the pillows. “I never want to see an ice chip again. The second this kid pops out, I need you to get me a party platter of sushi, I don’t care what time it is.”
Andrei laughs and promises that he’ll get you whatever you want.
After that, it’s a blur. The contractions are nonstop, your ob/gyn between your legs encouraging you to push, and Andrei’s arm braced around your upper back to give you some leverage.
“Okay, I see some hair,” your doctor says. “Big head, but one push and it should be out. Then we’ve got a baby!”
Andrei murmurs encouraging words in your ear that you barely hear over the rush of blood in your head and the guttural scream that forces out of your throat. You scream and cry and there’s pressure and then release as the baby slides out.
You’re allowed to slump back against the pillows, tears streaming down your face while you crane your neck to see the baby, “is the baby healthy? Is she okay?”
“He’s just perfect,” your doctor beams, holding the baby up. “It’s a boy, mom and dad!”
Her words sink in and you start sobbing - a little boy!
Your husband’s big hand is cradled over your head and the baby’s on your chest, bloody and scrunched up and crying. Your own hands automatically come up to cradle him, your lips pressing against the top of his head. “A boy! Oh my god, Drei, a little boy,” you sob to him, laughing into Andrei’s mouth when he kisses you.
“I’m so proud of you,” he says shakily, his cheeks wet. “A son. Solnyshka, thank you. He’s - thank you. Fuck, I love you so much.”
Andrei’s hand comes up to cover yours on the baby’s back and you’re jolted by how warm his hand is compared to yours, you’re shaking and freezing, but all you can focus on is how happy you are.
The baby’s cries taper off and he nuzzles against your chest, your heart melting at how perfect and adorable he is.
“He looks like the girls,” Andrei comments, unable to stop staring. His fingers stroke over the baby’s back, your own trembling with the adrenaline come down.
You laugh. “They all look like you, babe. My genes never stood a chance,” you can’t stop smiling, pressing your lips all over the baby’s head. He’s so warm against your chest.
You’re not sure how long you get to keep the baby on your chest, but the next thing you know, you’re in recovery, dozing while you watch Andrei hold his son. The baby is a big one, like you’d expected, weighing in at a sold nine pounds, eleven ounces. Your entire lower body is still throbbing with pain, but it’s all so worth it to see Andrei with the baby cradled in his arms.
“Four kids and I still can’t believe he’s real,” Andrei chuckles hoarsely, gazing down at the baby with shiny eyes.
“Oh, I can believe it,” you reply dryly, shifting with a wince. “I feel like we should’ve been more prepared with boy names.”
You’d run through the list of the few that you had liked, but none seem right. His middle name will be for Andrei, but the first name is stumping you both.
“We’ll figure it out,” Andrei looks up at you with a grin. “I love you so much, I said that, right?”
“Several times,” you hold out your arms and wiggle your fingers at him. “Give me back my baby, Drei.”
Andrei transfers the baby to you with the ease of a practiced parent, taking a seat on the edge of your bed. You’re both exhausted and it’s so early in the morning the sun isn’t even up yet. You’ll have to pass out soon, but right now you can’t get enough of the infant. He looks so much smaller when he was in Andrei’s arms. You trace over the slope of his nose with the tip of your index finger, seeing so much of the girls and Andrei in his features. “You sure you don’t want to name him after your dad?” You ask, double checking.
“No, no,” Andrei shakes his head. “Geno has that covered. Besides,” his lips twist up in an impish little smile, “Igor’s not my favorite name.”
You know he’s thinking about the Canes’ most recent loss to the Rangers in the second round of the playoffs. The Rangers getting swept in the ECF had been extremely satisfying in your house.
You giggle a little and watch as the baby yawns. He’s been quiet, sleeping on and off, so much more peaceful than his older sisters. “Okay, I get it. You know, my grandfather, his name was Demetrius. A few letter changes…Dimitri?”
Andrei’s knuckle brushes against the soft pudge of the baby’s cheeks and murmurs the name. “Dimitri,” it sounds so different, so much better in his accent, “Dimka.”
He yawns in your arms and it feels like something clicks into place in your chest. You nod at Andrei, “that’s it. That’s his name.”
“Dimitri Andreievich,” Andrei laughs as he says the name. “Big name for a little boy.”
“He’s almost ten pounds,” you scoff. “This is a gift from the Big Boy genes, oh husband of mine.”
He smirks at you, leaning in for a kiss and your poor battered vagina gives a weak throb of pain. It’s too soon for him to be this adorable.
After a solid three hours of sleep, broken up once so you can try feeding Dimitri, you start pestering Andrei for your sushi. It’s nearing eight in the morning on the nineteenth, making it nearly twenty-four hours since you had breakfast with the girls before coming to the hospital.
“What about anything else?” He frowns at you. “Sushi for breakfast is…” He trails off, wrinkling his face in disgust.
With the baby latched to a nipple, you pout at him. “Did I or did I not push your giant child out of my body?” You pause to inhale and then continue, “And! Since it was already this morning before someone thought to feed me, all I’ve eaten in twenty four hours is ice chips and a peanut butter sandwich. I am starving!”
Andrei laughs at you, but before he can answer, gets distracted by his phone vibrating in his pocket. It’s probably Elena, looking for an update since you hadn’t called anyone in the early hours after Dimitri had been born, exhausted and looking to soak in the time as a trio. You turn your attention to the baby while Andrei chats in Russian on the phone. He hangs up and sits down on the edge of the bed, wrapping his hand around your knee. “Mama says the girls are going wild, waiting to hear about their new baby,” he grins toothily. “Can sushi wait? I think maybe I’ll go get the girls to introduce them to their brother.”
“Natives are restless?” You ask, the guilt of being away from the girls, even for a day, even to literally give birth, starting to creep in. Tears well in your eyes and you don’t bother to do anything about it, knowing you’re going to be a weepy mess for the foreseeable future. “How do you feel about meeting the big sisters, D?”
Dimitri lets out a soft little baby squeak and you give Andrei a watery grin. “I think he likes that plan. Bring me my girls.”
In the time that Andrei’s gone, Dimitri naps in his little plastic bassinet and you get helped into the bathroom by your nurse, ready to sit with the girls as long as their attention spans can handle it. You brush your hair back into a neater braid and wash your face clean of sweat. By the time that Andrei texts that he’s parking, you feel a little more human.
You can hear little footsteps running down the hall and you rub a hand over Dimitri’s belly, “get ready for Hurricane Svechnikova, bub.”
“Mama!” Evie bursts through the door first, hair in two pigtails on the top of her head and a bright red tutu around her waist. You beam at the sight of her and open your arms.
“Hi, bunny,” you coo, emotions clogging up your throat. “Come give me a hug!”
She dances over to your side and clambers up on the bed, nearly smacking you in the face with a piece of construction paper and jostling you a little painfully. You wrap her up in a tight hug, inhaling her little-kid scent of markers and Johnson and Johnson shampoo. Over her shoulder, you see Alina skip into the room and you hold open one arm.
“My Alya,” you grin. “Come join Mama.”
She’s in a Canes giveaway t-shirt that you’d cut down so it wasn’t a literal dress on her and you briefly wonder how wild they were being if this is how they ended up dressed. Alina needs a little help getting up on the bed and as Evie is pulling at the back of her shirt, Andrei appears at the door, Kira on his hip and an exasperated frown on his face.
“Didn’t Papa tell you not to run?” He raises an eyebrow at the older girls cuddled against your sides.
“We missed Mama,” Evie replies, pouting. You smooth a hand over her hair and shake your head at Andrei. They don’t need a parenting moment right now. Kira wiggles in his arms and reaches for you until Andrei relents and settles her on your lap in a way that doesn’t cause you pain. None of the girls have even so much as looked at the baby, but you’re not rushing them, knowing it’s a big change for them.
Andrei settles on the little couch while the girls fill you in on all the fun they had with the grandparents yesterday. They make Andrei bring you the bag of pictures they drew for you and the baby and that seems to trigger them. “Oh! Wait, Mama,” Evie perks up and looks around, “where’s the baby?”
You laugh and point at the plastic bassinet, “your little brother is right there. Just waiting to meet you three.”
Like it was rehearsed, all three of them scramble to the side of the bed to get a good look at Dimitri.
“He’s a boy?” Alina asks, squinting down at him.
“We have a brother? Not a sister?” Evie carefully reaches a hand into the bassinet to touch one of Dimitri’s tiny feet. “I thought it was a sister.”
“Baby!” Kira pats the edge of the plastic. “Baby in Mama’s belly?”
You kiss the back of her head. “Yeah, this is the baby that was in Mama’s tummy. His name is Dimitri.”
Andrei comes over to lift Kira and Alina into his arms so they can get a better look at the baby. “It’s different, right, to have a brother?” He asks, looking at you softly. You know he wouldn’t have cared if the baby were a girl, but there’s something about men and their sons, and you’re beyond happy that you were able to give him that.
“He’s not going to do much for a while,” you say. “But when he gets moving, I bet you’re all going to have a lot of fun.”
“Mmm,” Evie hums thoughtfully. “Boys are kinda yucky.”
“I’m a boy!” Andrei gasps, mock offended. “Am I yucky?”
You shoot him a wicked smile over Evie’s head and mouth ‘filthy’ at him, surprised that you even have it in you to flirt with him. Andrei laughs, his eyes sparkling, and you both nearly miss it when Evie chirps, “yeah, ‘cause sometimes you’re smelly after hockey.”
You snort a laugh and then, sensing that he’s missing some kind of party, Dimitri stirs, making little noises and wiggling his arms and legs. The girls watch, fascinated, and you skirt around Evie so you can pick him up. You glance at the clock on the wall and it’s been close to two and a half hours since you fed him, so he’s probably hungry. He starts to fuss more and the girls look a little disgruntled by the noise, so before they start complaining, you pucker up and plant a smacking kiss to Evie’s cheek, making her giggle. “How about Papa brings you guys back home so you can play and don’t have to watch me change any stinky diapers? Then you can come back later with Nana and Pop and Babu and Dedu? You can introduce them all to your new brother,” you grin, adding more excitement and animation to your tone so they’ll get excited too.
“You’re sure?” Andrei asks, even as your two middle kids are fighting in his arms, chattering at each other over who touched who. He’d scooped them off the bed as soon as Alina started poking at Kira to see how close she could get the former baby of the family to the edge of the bed without pushing her off. The noise they’re making is starting to agitate Dimitri and you’re very sure. Andrei himself looks a little frazzled with the girls practically shrieking in his ears.
“Go ahead,” you widen your eyes at him. “We’ll, ah, we’ll do a little more sibling bonding later in the day. D and I aren’t going anywhere.”
Andrei looks conflicted about leaving you, but honestly, Alina and Kira’s fighting is starting to give you a little bit of a headache. Dimitri is fussing more and you don’t want to start feeding him with the girls in the room because that opens up all the “whys” and “what are you doings” that the girls are so prone to these days.
Evie’s tucked against your side, looking down at the baby. She sighs and looks up at Andrei, “he’s so loud. Let’s come back when he’s quiet.”
Andrei’s mouth tips up in a half smile and you manage a weak laugh, reflexively holding out a hand to guide Evie when she half rolls, half climbs off the bed and beelines for the door. She waves over her shoulder and chirps a blithe, “bye Mommy, bye baby brother.”
“I think she’s expecting you to follow her,” you say to Andrei, a little wide eyed at your oldest’s actions. Securing Dimitri in one arm, you wave the other at the door, “go, please! Before she gets kidnapped!”
“Right, yeah,” Andrei nods and bounces the girls in his arms, “say bye to Mama. We’ll see her later, okay?”
Taking a little break from fighting, Alina and Kira wave at you over Andrei’s shoulders, blowing kisses. You wave back and then practically deflate when the door shuts behind Andrei and you’re left alone with the now opening crying Dimitri. You sigh and get him adjusted on your breast, quieting him immediately. You rub tiredly at your eyes, frustrated and exhausted. Maybe you’d underestimated the chaos four kids are going to be.
Once Dimitri is finished eating, you call for a nurse to bring him back to the nursery so you can get some much needed sleep. “I always feel bad sending them to the nursery,” you confess to the nurse, Jenna. “It makes me feel like a bad mom.”
“Sweetheart,” she laughs warmly, “I saw that husband of yours head out of here with your little girls. Sleep as much as you can before going home to that chaos.”
“They’re usually much better behaved,” you say wryly. “New sibling apparently throws off the routine.”
She tucks Dimitri into a swaddle and says, “oh, they get used to it. You two are old pros at this, so I think you know what you’re doing.”
You smile warily at her, a nervous pit in your stomach that you hadn’t felt after any of the girls’ births. You’re not sure why you feel so unsettled now, raising a boy in the early infancy stage isn’t any different than raising daughters. When Jenna takes Dimitri back to the nursery, you slide down on the bed, pulling the blankets up to your chin and getting as comfortable as possible to take a nap. A few tears leak out of the corners of your eyes, dripping down your temples and into your hair and you take a deep breath. It catches in your throat a little and you hiccup, covering your eyes with a cold, shaky palm.
Somehow, you manage to nap on and off, dozing in that weird limbo where you can hear most of what’s happening around you, but time passes faster than you think. After what feels like two minutes, but is actually closer to two hours, you give up on the nap and find your phone in the mess on the bedside table. You busy yourself with responding to texts and scrolling through social media, zoning out to a video of a woman making homemade pop tarts when Andrei appears at the door.
“Delivery,” he announces, your head shooting up at the sound of his voice. In his hand is an obscenely large paper bag with the name of your favorite sushi place stamped on the side. He catches your gaze and shakes it enticingly. “Husband of the year, yes?”
“If there’s spicy tuna in there, I’ll get the trophy engraved now,” you tease, a small, but genuine smile on your face. Andrei kisses the corner of your mouth and sets the bag on the rolling table.
“Two spicy tuna and plenty of miso soup,” he promises, sitting down on the mattress and helping you unpack the plastic containers.
You rub your chopsticks together and ask, “how are the girls? Everything okay at home?”
Andrei’s in different clothes than when he left and he smells like soap and cologne, so you know he at least showered when he got home.
“They’re good, don’t worry about them,” he reassures you, passing over a container of seaweed salad. “Kir was down for a nap when I left and our moms were playing Barbies with the older two.”
You nod, poking at the seaweed with a lazy motion. Andrei’s gaze is steady on your bent head, you can feel his eyes studying you and so you eat a mouthful of the seaweed, chewing slowly. As hungry as you had been earlier, it’s hard to swallow now. Andrei’s knee bumps yours and you look up at him, worried brown eyes on yours.
“What’s going on, solnyshka? Are you okay?” He ducks his head so he can maintain eye contact. One of his hands comes up and cups your cheek. You lean into his touch and shrug.
“I’m okay,” you sigh. “Just…”
Andrei’s quiet while you try and find the words. You’re not even sure what you’re feeling, why you’re so overly emotional.
“I missed the girls,” you say quietly. “But, four kids? It just…this isn’t going to be easy at all, Drei. They all started chattering and Dimitri was crying and I just wanted to cry too.”
“He’s not even a day old,” Andrei says gently. “It’s okay you’re emotional. I’ll tell you a secret,” he laughs under his breath, “I cried in the car when I went to get the girls.”
“Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, setting your chopsticks down. Andrei’s not usually one to admit to crying.
“Yeah,” he nods. “Probably more because we have a son, but still. I cried.” Andrei winks at you, smiling warmly.
A little laugh slips past your lips and you tug at the end of your braid. “I think I’ll be okay once I get into a routine. But I’m glad the moms are staying until the season starts, we’re going to need all the help we can get.”
Andrei scoffs and moves to sit next to you and wrap his arm around your shoulders so you can burrow against his side. “You’re the rock, koroleva. If anyone can handle me, four kids, and the hockey season, it’s you,” he praises you, mouth pressed against your temple. “Just tell me if you’re overwhelmed, okay? We figure it out as a team.”
You nod against his side, the knot in your chest loosening a bit. Your arm rests on his stomach and Andrei keeps you as close as possible, knowing you need the physical comfort right now. “We’re so done having kids, by the way,” you mutter into his shirt.
Andrei laughs and your whole body vibrates with the sound. He rubs his hand up and down your arm, teasing, “Dimka and I are still outnumbered.”
“Oh, that is not something I care about,” you laugh in response, snaking your hand out to pluck a piece of sushi out of its container. “We’re closed for business down there.” You pause and then continue, knowing Andrei will have a retort. “For baby making business. Other fun activities will be reevaluated at six weeks.”
Your husband gives you a mock little salute, amusement written plainly on his face. He picks up his own piece of sushi with his free hand, popping the piece in his mouth and chewing before he says, quietly and totally sincerely, “you’re the best mom the kids could’ve asked for, you know that, right?”
“You’re going to make me cry again, you big jerk,” you sniffle, pressing a hand to your mouth. “I just finished crying!”
“I’m sorry,” Andrei cuddles you closer. “Eat and rest, because the moms are not going to want to wait too much long to meet the little guy.”
You pull back a little so look up at Andrei’s face and he has a slightly dopey look in his eyes, a little upturn to his lips like he’s trying to fight off a smile. “You want to go get him, don’t you?” You ask, exhaling a little laugh through your nose.
Andrei nods eagerly, unable to hide his excitement. “Yeah,” he admits, “I know we should rest, but I really want to keep holding him.”
“Go get him,” you say, “I kind of want to get a hit of that newborn smell.”
“Weirdo,” Andrei captures your chin in his fingers and tilts your head up to kiss you sweetly.
You grin against his mouth, “your weirdo and mother to your weird children too.”
Andrei’s laugh follows him all the way out the door.
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Exactly What His Heart Meant
Pairing: Pornstar!August Walker x Pornstar!Reader
Summary: August Walker has wanted you forever. You want him, too. It's perfect.
Word Count: 7.4K
Warnings: This is Pornstar!AU, okay? 18+ ONLY Drug and alcohol use, mentions of a three-way, generic anal, bad business practices, oral sex (F & M receiving), vaginal fingering, anal fingering, P in V missionary and doggy style, sex toys, pegging (gasp - yes I'm going there), aftercare. Love.
A/N: I am nervous, okay? This is not your average everyday August Walker, but I love him and I hope you do too. I have been wanting to do this since forever. I've posted a few blurbs in WIP tag games here and here. I gushed about the song that kicked the whole thing into high gear and the fic title is taken from "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?" - Rod Stewart. Both songs can be found on the playlist.
Bonus points if you can find the nods to other HC characters. There is definitely one, maybe two or three if you squint hard. (These points don't get you anything, sorry.)
Playlist: Listen to the music of the night on Spotify here.
Header and dividers by me.
August owned his entrance like no other. The studio made sure to send a PA ahead to prep the DJ and once he heard the first strains of “Night Fever” spill out of the club, he stepped out of the shadows and headed to the entrance, ready to start his decent down into the lights and glitter and debauchery as soon as Here I am sounded through the speakers and a spotlight made its way to him.
The already celebratory crowd went wild as he struck the iconic pose and thrust his hips in time to the rhythm. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face if he tried, no matter how he had protested his employer’s choice for him. He would have sworn on any stack of bibles he didn’t like disco and abhorred polyester, yet here he was gyrating away. First time for everything. Starting with enjoying this awards night and after-party.
Each one prior had a story already attached to it from the beginning of the night, starting with his inaugural ceremony and guaranteed newcomer award, and trailing through the end of every relationship he thought would be the one. He finally stopped assuming because they said yes to the event after a few months or more of dating, that meant they were saying yes to him forever. The next few years were brutal and lonely, not that he couldn’t find some starfucker to take home at the end of the night, but that wasn’t what he craved.
Tonight was Club Retro themed. Award ceremony glamor as usual, but a costume change was required somewhere on the way from the venue to the after-party if you wanted to really up your game. Arrive in club gear of whichever era you wanted, but arrive dressed to impress nonetheless. He wasn’t the only actor a studio had convinced to go for the Travolta look, but he was probably the most surprised to find himself exhilarated by it and the attention it received. He kept all three pieces of the white suit, but he ditched the dark blue shirt altogether. Maybe he didn’t have a full head of hair, but the ‘stache and chest hair on display held 70’s swagger and he was running with it.
He grabbed a glass of champagne from one tray and a pill from another and set off into the crowd in search of the rest of his crew. He caught glimpses of the fresh-faced sweetheart who’d just inked a new deal grinding on the studio’s number two out on the dance floor and knew his plan to link them up had worked. The fans would eat them up, he knew it.
Knew it better than the owner, who wanted August to break her in. Ethan had begun making some really bad casting and scripting decisions and August was glad his contract was coming to an end. He was starting to feel like he wanted to just blow the whole studio up, let loose with all the bullshit he knew about his boss and how he ran his business. The industry could be awful, plenty of horror stories, but August had initially thought he’d found a place to call home.
What he’d begun to uncover about Ethan Hunt could fill a manifesto that would take the place down. And as crazy as it sounded, though he was tired of breaking in new talent, he wasn’t ready to be the reason all his friends lost their jobs. Not everyone was in a position to land on their feet. Regardless, at least now, with the sweetheart and the roughneck on a solid trajectory he wouldn’t be in the middle of something if tonight panned out the way he hoped.
Though, to be honest, it wasn’t looking good. He’d found his crew and then scanned the room for her with no luck.
“She hasn’t shown up yet,” his agent purred in his ear. Kelis was always down to party whenever he had an itch no one else would scratch, and he appreciated how decidedly non-attached she always was. No clingy phone calls or pouting over non-existing anniversaries. It aggravated him, though, that she was looking to seduce him here, tonight of all nights. Especially because she knew where his mind would likely be, but it didn’t stop her from begging for his cock every now and then. He could tell she’d gotten the hint his look gave by the way she toned it way down to answer his next question.
“A few from her studio have shown up but she wasn’t with them and they wouldn’t tell me where she was. It was all very secretive. So at least let me have my way with you on the dance floor if you won’t take me home tonight. Please?”
He relented and found himself having the time of his life. Song after song flew by as he grabbed water then whisky, a line, then water, another line, then whisky, water, whiskey, whisky, water. Dancing with Kelis gave him a chance to forget about his frustration with his studio and everyone, here or not, for the moment. He let himself be free and felt a weightlessness he hadn’t in a long time. No call sheets waiting at home. No scenes to prep. No “scripts” to read. Tonight and the next two weeks were his and his alone. Time for some decisions.
He noticed the crowd had begun to thin, and realized he wanted some fresh air, so he peeled himself away from Kelis with a promise-to-return kiss and tap on the ass. He took the elevator to the rooftop bar and found himself a little amazed at the streaks of light just beginning to emerge in the distance. Time had really flown while he was having fun.
He was about to head towards the drinks when he spotted her leaning against the railing in the opposite direction. The white-golden hair flowing behind her was an obvious wig. He’d seen her step to the stage to accept multiple awards tonight (or is it last night now?) and she had looked just as gorgeous with her natural color as she did all done up in her Farrah waves now. An unexpected jolt of excitement coursed through his veins as he realized she’d also opted for a 70’s look, complete with a scandalously (though by whose standards?) short metallic silver skirt with slits on either side and what he assumed was a matching top, though with her back to him as she peered out over the awakening city, all he really saw where the two thin silver chains that criss-crossed across her back. They looked like they would hold nothing up.
But she was alone and he knew it was now or never, so he strolled around the roof-top pool to step up beside her.
"I’m glad I finally found you. I wanted to congratulate you. It's not often a producer gets awards for both behind and front of camera work," he opened.
She turned her head and beamed a dazzling smile in return before thanking him and offering her own congratulations along with her hand and then a surprisingly friendly hello hug.
“I saw you nailed Best Male Performer and Best Anal again. Your Missionary: Impossible series was a true stroke of genius. I wish I had thought of it first.”
“So she’s not immune,” August thought as he peeled himself away from her warm body. “She remembers my name.” At least she recognized his star status. Maybe she hadn’t forgotten him. He pressed his lips to the back of her hand and trained his eyes on her through his lashes.
“You know I’d love to have you join the cast,” he spoke as he finished the hello hand kiss and lifted his head to gaze directly at her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes that scream ‘spy’ quite as much as yours do.”
“And I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a producer acting for another studio. You’ve got balls to ask, that’s for sure,” she laughed, tossing back the rest of her whisky before grabbing another off the tray passing by.
“Where’ve you been all night? I tried to find you right after the ceremony, but you disappeared and I had to run for a wardrobe change.” August tossed a casual grin and motioned at the cheesiness of his costume, though inside he was kicking himself.
The point of engaging wasn’t to offer her a part. How ridiculous! He’d been doing that for months now and she wasn’t biting. No. Tonight he was going to get answers. Why had she consistently denied him another shot with her? It had to be more than just the technicalities of trying to untangle ownership and percentages filming another studio’s producer would bring. She broke into his train of thought with an explanation of her quick and sudden departure from the award banquet and why she hadn’t arrived at the after party locale for what had to be at least a few hours.
“Already prepping material for next year. We had a newcomer attend with the studio tonight. He’s an absolute stud. Looking to get his name out there so we filmed his first scene backstage.”
August’s hopeful heart sank a little. He couldn’t expect her not to keep putting out material just because his advances might finally be successful, but it would take all his cool charm and guile to woo her if she was already cock-drunk tonight. He put out another feeler.
“You look well put back together already,” he commented, eyes tracing her figure with obvious intent.
“Oh not me. No, I was directing. Looking to nab that ‘behind the scene newcomer’ award next year,” she beamed, her smile still welcoming. “No, Mikey did a little gonzo three-way for his first official movie with Darkk Angel. We’re releasing it next week after a quick trip to post and then have him lined up for three more scenes next month. I’m wondering if we can talk AVN into a “most prolific” award.” Her laughter was infectious and he found himself with a wide grin, verging on goofy in spite of his aim.
“You’ve never directed? How have I missed that?” August sought to focus attention away from whoever this Mikey kid was and back on her completely, then mentally kicked himself again for admitting something that could only make him look desperate and maybe a little creepy. From his statement, and along with all the official asks from his agent, she had to think he was a stalker, completely obsessed with her.
Not that he wasn’t. Not since that very first time. Her “first’ anal scene. He understood she had to be a little overwhelmed at that shoot with so many people on set. She had clearly already fucked the director (for a scene) and was now just taking on a few actors who were already on a rise. It was his last commitment to the old studio and then he was off to a new contract with Hunt. God, he wished he could have taken her with him. As it was, the only thing he kept was her scent that lingered not long enough.
"You know, I've asked my agent about another scene with you more times than any other actor. He never has a good enough reason to tell me no. What gives?" August inquired.
She debated telling him the truth. That she was completely enamored of him despite, only having met once, and afraid to ruin her own fantasy. Yes, she thought about him often. She’d be lying if she said otherwise.
But what if he refused her counter-offers? What if he didn't play the way she had come to discover she wanted sometimes, needed even?
She could accept if his big dick in her pussy or ass was all he'd agree to again for one scene. But she wanted more. More than a scene. More than a spectacle.
"Industry's hottest stars finally fucking again!" she imagined the trade headlines would scream, not bothering to temper her own ego about her status.
And which studio got the rights? His or hers? Of course she would never give up the rights to those shots, those stills, that video. It had been years since any studio other than the one she owned had any rights to any images of her. Why August Walker didn't make the same professional move she had was beyond her, but at least she could play the upper hand if it came down to it. It was power to own the rights to your own material and that power trumped his studio contracts. Or at least she'd make that case. Plus Ethan Hunt was a little bitch and she’d be damned if she contributed to his profits in any way.
Still, she couldn’t get past the concern that having his big dick in her ass again would ruin her for anyone else ever again. It wasn't the size. Hell, she'd had two almost equal to him in there just the other day.
No. It was the fantasy. Not only what she already knew of his prowess, though if she’d improved over time, and she knew she had, he had to have gotten better too. But also what she imagined she knew based on the stories she'd heard. Stories about his true personality as well as the image she made up in her head based on tidbits of their past and innuendos of his present.
On set, she'd heard he’d become a bit of a prick. Even worse when the storyline called for Daddy. Not that it didn't make her wet to watch. And daydream about. Calling him Daddy, mmmm.
Except that wasn't her. Not her kink. Not her need. Not really.
And off set? Well, lips are usually loose in the industry, but somehow very few factual stories about dating August Walker were out there. Most of what she'd heard was easily dispelled rumor.
No, he wasn't into animal play. Either kind. Good.
No, he didn't force his partners to sleep in separate rooms after finishing. Why would someone even start that rumor? To what end?
Her private private detective had tracked down the source and verified quickly. It was a little bit of column a, a little bit of column b. The studio was looking to cash in on the mystery and intrigue of their dashing playboy, and a jilted date wanted more. Who wouldn't want more of him? But that choice was self-sabotaging to say the least.
She was well aware that some women, and men for that matter, liked to imagine their favorite actor to be the world's largest asshole. No, not that way.
That was the way she liked to imagine him. And the basis for her declination. He'd never say yes. She was sure of it.
And yet here he was. Blushing at the mere mention. Maybe she should have countered with that when he first started seeking her out. But she hadn't been ready to give up the rush she felt every time a message from Hunt Club studios appeared in her inbox.
August felt the heat rise in his cheeks and knew someone out there would say he was blushing, but August Walker does not blush.
As she leaned in, he swiped another surreptitious peek at her gorgeous and barely covered tits, though he was so smooth no one could have seen this time. Not that it mattered. He was right about the thin silver chains holding onto barely anything up front. Where she found tissue paper thin metallic material, he had no idea but her nipples showed through what little fabric there was making up the plunging neckline of the deep-vee tank, as if they weren’t also practically peeking out of the top as it was. She had them on display for a reason. But he was trying to make a move here. Trying to differentiate himself from the rest of the industry players and hangers-on hoping for a hook-up after the awards.
Champagne and liquor had flowed all night, powder cut, pills popped. He was tipsy but it was really the sunrise inching its way into the sky behind her, here on this rooftop bar next to the pool full of drunken, naked bodies, and the angelic halo circling the crown of her head that had him staring back into her eyes in no time, enraptured. Well, that and her reply.
“I have certain … desires that I’m not convinced you’d be amenable to and I didn’t want to alienate you.”
He went on to ask, no - insist, she explained her terms, right here right now. And she obliged, clarifying that she didn’t intend to be filmed at all. That her interest in climbing into bed with him was related only to the burning desire she’d felt to track him down, beg him for more, practically every day since that shoot. And the thing that convinced her not to bother was the never ending stream of talent she’d seen draped around him months, years later.
But she wouldn’t, couldn’t deny that she wanted him. Wanted to relive that moment and then build on it. Take the scene farther than was written. Fuck him right off the page and into her life forever. It was indescribable the way he felt listening to her narrate her desire to own him. She was only mentioning the bedroom, but he got the feeling she meant the heart as well.
Still, she was being mysterious with the details, so August began to mention specifics. What he wouldn’t do.
"I won't lick your boots," he'd said with a grin after a shorter than expected list, still wavering on if he actually meant to convey the opposite.
"Maybe not," she replied before leaning in and whispering in his ear as he tilted down to meet her. It was clear from her next sentence that she’d finally figured out he’d say yes. He was practically begging for it right here in front of these few end-of-the evening stragglers. "But you will take every inch of me."
Negotiations had already begun and this was just ink on the dotted line. Along with a string of consent questions with compatible answers and now she knew his safeword and he knew hers. It wasn’t what it used to be. Because things can change. But not his desire for her.
He brushed past her non-binding handshake and drew her in for a confirmation kiss, hands gently pulling her waist towards him. “You still smell the same. It drives me crazy,” he admitted before pressing his lips to hers with a smile. Then he broke the kiss, which had begun to turn lascivious even for the nature of the event, afraid they’d never make it off the roof-top if he didn’t.
He gave a deceptively shy smile and knowing nod to Kelis as he passed her on his way out with the true object of his desire draped along his arm.
She sent her limo off with whatever crew was left at the party before climbing into the back of his. They had no sooner pulled away from the curb and begun to make their way to his hi-rise apartment building than the driver’s shield went up and she went down, unzipping his trousers and slipping her hand in to coax him out.
She had gotten incredibly better at sucking dick in these interim years. But it was like she was finally home. Like her mouth opened magically around him to hold him close and taste his skin. It took everything in his power not to blow his load down her throat in the car. He wanted to be in her pussy when he came and there wasn’t much he wanted more at this moment.
He managed to pull her off and get her back on the seat, legs spread and ready to take his shoulders as he slipped his tongue deep inside her core. Moving the floss she’d bothered to pull on out of his way wasn’t hard in the least. He had her screaming by the time the limo pulled up outside his building.
August draped his suit jacket over her shoulders before he helped her out of the car and into the lobby. When the elevator doors closed around them, she turned and pressed him back into the wall, staring up at him with hunger and power equally.
“That’s the last time you call the shots tonight. I’m taking my shoes off as soon as we walk in your door, so you can’t accuse me of asking you to lick my boots. But you will be on your knees and you will put your mouth back on my pussy and do that one more time before anything else happens tonight. Understood?”
He stared down at her with amusement that morphed into understanding that ended in solemnity before the ding at his floor broke the silence.
“Yes ma’am,” he finally replied, resigned to her whim. He opened the lock with practiced ease, nothing shaking out of fear but only vibrating with anticipation. How had he missed her meaning all those years ago?
“I wish I could show you how this feels,” she’d whispered in his ear as he held her chest tight against his. “But it’s nothing compared to how it feels from behind.”
At the time he thought she had meant for him to turn her around, still on top of him but back to chest. So he did. And she liked it. She came like a banshee and that squeeze is something they can’t fake. That’s what wins the awards anyway. The audience knows it’s acting, but when they can tell it’s something the actor actually wants, when the chemistry is kinetic, the high is so much higher.
Clearly she’d had so much more in mind. When she came back down, he made sure to check the front door lock before he turned back to scoop her quivering body into his arms and carry her down the hall to his bedroom.
“Don’t think I’m anywhere near done with you just because I’m a wreck right now,” she called to him as he set her onto his bed. “Where are you going?”
“I would never think you’d consider that enough for an evening. I want to freshen up, if you don’t mind. May I?” August quirked an eyebrow awaiting her response and it was clear he’d come right back to the bed if she forbade it. No questions asked. But she allowed it and that only made him ache for her more. He’d be quick.
“Damn right you will!” she called out after him before ridding herself of her own garments.
Her hand must have found its way to the soaking mess between her legs and this is how August found her when he stepped out of the bathroom a very short while later, rubbing a towel over his head after peeling it off his body. He watched her luxuriate in the slippery slide feel of her fingers dipping in and out, rubbing, pinching, pumping, pumping, pumping.
He dipped carefully onto the bed. He had no desire to startle her out of her joy, he only wanted to witness it up close. He crawled alongside her and watched as her chest heaves softened and listened as her sighs became longer. When she finally opened her eyes on a deep inhale, he smiled at her.
“May I join you?” So respectful.
“Kiss me,” she commanded, and while he heeded she lifted his arm and guided his hand between her legs. “And touch me,” she whispered into his mouth.
He obeyed. His fingers drifted through her folds and made use of the slick that remained to press up into her. One, two, one, two. And now three. And now she’s grinding up against his hand and breaking the kiss to demand more and he’s giving it to her but it’s not enough, is it?
“More,” she cried out. “Fuck me, August.”
He was grateful at that moment for two revelations from the rooftop. He already knew his own status, testing often despite Hunt’s lackadaisical studio regulations. But she had shared that her studio adopted the standard of routine and regular testing early on and therefore she knew exactly what her status was, too. And, coupled with the fact that she had the implant, she had no qualms going bare. All these things led to the next thing he was grateful for and that was the feel of her pussy wrapped all the way around him as he slipped his prodigious cock deep inside her.
He mused he could do this all night. Or rather all day and into the night, when the moon began to rise again. Because it wasn’t night at all. It was broad daylight now and it was streaming in through the mirrored windows. Nobody could see it, even if they did find themselves on level with the height of his apartment. But no curtains meant he could see the way the sunlight brightened her face and it made him want to see all of her.
“Will you take it off, too?” he asked, staring down at her while he pistoned his hips into hers and felt her open and warm around him. “Please?”
He wasn’t used to begging. As much as he wasn’t a blusher, he definitely wasn’t a beggar but he found himself wanting to do anything for her and she wanted him to beg. Or at least ask nicely. And he wanted to obey. For the first time, maybe ever, August Walker wasn’t in charge.
She obliged and pulled the wig off easily. It wasn’t even pinned on, there was so much bang to cover the cap. All that meant was she was able to free her natural hair with ease and he was thankful. Now she lay bare before him and he got to take a good long, up close and personal look before she took it all away.
Faster than he would have preferred she slipped back and eased him out, but turned just as quickly to take him in her mouth. August let his eyes fall closed while he relished the feeling of her mouth around his cock again, but just when it started feeling really good, it also started feeling too good. If she continued he was going to come and he really meant it when he decided he wanted to be inside her for that. And not her mouth.
“Please,” it was practically a whisper. She almost hadn’t heard. But she let go with a pop and asked.
“What was that?”
“Please,” he begged again, raspy but with sound this time, voice hitching as she took him back in her mouth for just the briefest of sucks.
“What are you asking for?”
When he pleaded again with a cracked voice, she smiled as she let go.
“What is it, August? Huh? What do you want? Or not want?”
“Please…please don’t.” he stuttered as she continued to toy with him. Dick in and then out of his mouth with no concern for his predicament.
“Say it, August. Ask nicely.”
“Don’t make me come,” he begged, even as she sank to wrap her lips around him once more. “Please.”
“If that’s what you want. You only have to ask. Nicely.” She was so proud of him and he could feel that. Could tell she’d do anything for him. And let him do anything for her.
“Let me fuck you,” he asked. “Please. Just ….”
“Don’t bother saying it, you and I both know 5 minutes turns into 20 in no time,’ she laughed with him as she lay back with her legs spread wide for him. He stayed kneeling between her legs and watched her face explode with pleasure as he rocked deep and strong inside of her. He wasn’t trying to overcome her, wasn’t looking to establish any kind of dominance. Not on purpose at least. Because the fact of the matter was, that no matter how much he wanted to let her be in charge, it just came so naturally to him. It was hard to drop that mantle. Especially while fucking into her and watching her fall apart around him.
Then she shook her head and through sheer will, dragged herself back from the precipice to snake an arm up his chest, fingers drifting to his neck and drawing him down against her.
“Kiss me again, August,” she commanded and he obliged with no hesitation. It wasn’t that he couldn’t resist and instead put her right back in the trance his cock had caused, but he didn’t want to. They’d agreed on this night. Agreed what it would mean. He was finally getting what he’d craved all these years. And so was she.
Their tongues tangled while his fingertips traveled over velvety skin, her legs wrapped around hips, his thick member pistoned in and out of her wet and slippery cunt that she controlled so well. She hadn’t been wrong. August imagined he could stay like this forever if she’d let him, drowning in her glory, ego stroked with every gasp and whimper and cry of hers. It was music to his ears. He’d heard enough fake moans and pants over the years to know what the real thing sounded like and he never wanted to give it up.
When he felt her squeeze tight around him for the second time, he began to slow, sure that more than twenty minutes had passed but completely uninterested in confirming his suspicion. No, he wanted her on her knees again.
“Can I have you from behind?” he murmured in her ear after kissing his way along her cheek and neck. “Just for 5 minutes.”
She could feel his grin, but before she could compose an appropriate response, he’d shifted, changed tempo and hit a different spot that had her howling and fighting the urge to beg him for more. Even then brief respite she’d have while they switched positions should allow her to gather her wits and tamp down her desire to just let him rail her into the next day. Because tonight was for something more. So she pushed him back away from her, flipped and pulled herself to all fours while crawling towards the center of the bed.
With a seductive glance over her shoulder, she called to him, “Come and get it, stud.”
Five minutes in heaven. That’s all she was going to allow him. She pressed her chest down into the bed and let him drag her hips into the air, flesh captured under his strong fingers. She screamed into the sheets as August directed her pleasure with practiced skill and just when she felt she couldn’t hold on any longer, he slipped a saliva-coated thumb into her ass and sent her reeling. He’d timed it perfectly.
“You’re done,” she fought through her haze to flip to her back and clarify. “We still have a deal, right?”
She watched him stroking himself lazy and slow to stay hard while his eyes blinked shut with relief almost involuntarily.
“Yes,” he replied, his exhale full of yearning. “Will you show me?”
“Show you what, August? Hmm?” she asked with a tilt of her head, pleased he was finally ready to give in to what he’d already agreed to back on that rooftop.
“Show me how it feels.” It wasn’t a question, yet still not a command. He’d never dare to command her. Not until she was ready for him to. And that wasn’t tonight.
“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that since we met.”
All those years. All that time. August closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and told himself it’s fine. It’ll be fine. He pulled back a bit from the ledge that he wanted to step over for missing her meaning all along. As if she could read his mind, she spoke from somewhere that felt like a dream.
“I’m glad you waited though. I wasn’t ready either. I was trying to get over my nerves and thought a little brazen tease directed at the top talent on set would help. But I’ve discovered I really do like sharing that experience, knowing I can make a man feel the way he makes me feel. Make him understand how much better it is when it's from someone who cares."
When he opened his eyes, she was pulling herself up to her knees to meet him. He felt her hands trace along his chest as she pressed her lips to his. It was almost sweet, but definitely a relief. She really did want this as much as he did.
For a mini-eternity, they let their tongues tangle and hands roam. August shivered as her nails traced down his back with the perfect dig and smiled into her lips as he thought about the red lines he’d be left with the next day. He cradled the nape of her neck as even on knees he towered over her and let a hand drift down the soft skin of her side and around her waist to cup her ass.
When her hands finally landed in the same spot on him, he felt another layer of tension release as she caressed and squeezed each cheek with passion. She broke the kiss and nuzzled down his chest, landing on her elbows before him. With eagerness, she took hold of his still invigorated member, gave a few soft strokes, and then put him back in her warm, wet, inviting mouth.
But this blowjob had an ulterior motive that August felt as soon as it turned sloppy and her saliva began to drip and pool around him. With a now slick hand, she slipped her fingers off the base of his cock and in between his legs, tracing past the waxed-bare skin off his balls and teasing his entrance.
She circled and smoothed and kneaded until he finally felt a finger ease past the first ring of muscle and he had to put a hand on her head to slow the bob that was already threatening to pull his orgasm too soon. Surely she didn’t want that, did she?
August dropped his head back with a groan of pleasure as she let her spit drop onto her fingers again before pressing a second digit inside, just beginning to open him up to all her possibilities. It already felt so, so good. If this was all she did for him, it was worth it, but not really what he wanted. He’d had a few other lovers tease him like this, but he always stopped them short, still too nervous to let them go all the way to where he needed.
He’d kept this part of himself secret, shared it with no one, tested it only when alone. He knew it was stupid to hide this craving, especially given how exposed he allowed himself to be on film. But this was something different. Something personal. Private. That’s what he told himself. And he let his stature in the industry dictate the type of man he was in a bedroom, with a woman but without the cameras, for far too long.
His head was spinning as her tongue licked his length and her fingers teased and touched. She was pressing and pushing deeper and when she finally found his spot it took every ounce of willpower to maintain composure. He still wanted more of her, still didn’t want to come yet.
It dawned on him then that she hadn’t brought an overnight bag with change of clothes for the morning or toys for the evening. Just her ridiculously sexy wisp of an outfit and a tiny clutch that couldn’t have hidden even a bottle of lube, let alone the tool she needed to fulfill their bargain. She’d promised him he’d take every inch of her. Could she really have meant only this? Was she expecting him to come as she beckoned inside him?
“I can hear your thoughts, August” she purred up at him with a smile, mouth off his dick, but fingers still toying with him. “I don’t want to stop here either. I’m sure you can help me out, can’t you?”
She felt him tense and knew he was weighing the pros and cons of admitting what she had guessed when he agreed to take her home immediately without offering to make a stop along the way. August had his own equipment. No doubt about it.
“It’s okay,” she soothed, removing her fingers completely and returning to her knees to kiss him hard and deep before speaking to him on his level. “You don’t have to hide anymore. Show me what you need.”
She watched the seas of his eyes storm with fear before settling into calm as she held his gaze with no judgment, no mockery. She kissed him again, licked into the space between his lips and felt the passion as he held her tight, almost holding on for his life while he kissed her back.
When he finally broke free, he stepped back off the bed and opened the nightstand to remove a bottle of lube before he moved across the room to a mirrored armoire. He opened the doors and removed a sleek, black box which he brought back to place slowly on the nightstand, clearly deep in thought. And then he hesitated, hands resting on the lid of the box, head down.
“I don’t…” he started, and she felt a small ache in her heart. She had never seen him so vulnerable. Not that she spent much time alone with him at all, but this was truly a side she hadn’t quite expected after everything she knew about him.
“We can take our time, August,” she spoke with a careful tone and no desire to spook him. He remained still and she felt reassured he wasn’t running, not in his mind or his body. When he spoke, she had to stifle a small laugh for fear she would send him running from misplaced shame.
“I only mean, I don’t have a harness for you.” He turned, fingertips of only one hand still on the closed box, eyes scanning hers for understanding. And she understood completely.
She moved closer to the edge of the bed and grinned at him. “Oh, August. Oh baby, this is what has you worried? You think I can’t make it good for you if I’m not wearing it?” She watched this new layer of tension begin to melt away as he registered her words. “August Walker, I meant what I said and I can’t wait to fuck you however I can. And believe me, I know how to make it good.”
She waited for him to relax, to speak, to return to his usual manner and let her back in. Then she took a calculated breath, dropped the timbre of her voice, and called to him.
“And you’re going to let me, aren’t you August?”
Her eyes dropped just in time to see the twitch in his still hard-cock and she knew he was back and ready to let her have him. He flipped the lid to the lacquer box with one finger and revealed a small treasure trove of devices, any of which she’d be thrilled to treat him with. With no idea how prepared he really was, she let him choose.
“Will you start with this?” August handed her not the smallest, but not the largest either and she accepted willingly. “It’s been a minute.”
With complete understanding she led him back into bed on his knees before grabbing the lube from the nightstand and setting about her business. Kisses first. Deep and hungry. She wanted his tongue down her throat and he obliged while she held the dildo and lube in one hand and stroked his rock hard cock with the other.
Before too long, she’d dropped the toy to the bed and flipped the lid to the tube, using proprioception to drop several dollops onto her open hand before reaching between his spread legs while still commanding his kiss. Her fingers smoothed the viscous fluid over his entrance and dipped a little in with a finger before she reached for the prosthetic and smeared the rest around the tip and down the base.
Her lips left his reluctantly as she ordered him to hands and knees while she maneuvered behind him. With practiced skill, she massaged and manipulated her fingers inside him once more, listening for the moans and groans that told her he was ready for her to place the tip alongside a finger and ease the toy inside. She watched him carefully, moving slowly and waiting for him to relax fully before she slipped the whole thing in and he took it with the sweetest grunt.
“You’re doing so good for me, August. Just like I knew you would. Does it feel good?” she questioned, while gently pulling and pushing, twisting and pressing, smiling when he answered in the affirmative. With each motion she listened for the sounds that would tell her where and how it felt best and she was quick to learn his needs.
“Fuck…just like that,” he begged and hitched back into her, already wanting more.
“Impatient,” she teased lightly as she shifted to the side so she could both lean over to capture his lips again and still work the toy in and out of his slowly writhing body. She kept him wanting, shifting the speed and direction, for as long as he could last before he finally begged for the real thing.
She left him face down and ass up while she switched gear, careful to add more lube to both him and the larger phallus. But when she was ready to finally give him what he wanted, she paused for just a moment to consider orientation. She was certain positioning him to face the mirror would be too much for this first time together, but there would be others, she was sure now.
Other times to see the exquisite pain she knew would soon drip down his face as she wielded the apparatus and gave him every inch he asked for. She ran a hand up his back and grabbed onto his shoulder for more leverage as she worked him into a frenzy. He was bucking back into her and the moans that drifted from his lips were music to her ears. All the practice and care she’d taken, learning how to please a lover this way were paying off.
She knew how it felt, knew how he was riding each high and low. Watched him relax into his pleasure, at times letting her control him completely before he shifted his hips and dug into the bed with hands and knees to find purchase that would allow him to grind hard onto the sizable dildo she brandished with expertise. She’d go all night like this if he wanted.
As his circuits finally broke, she could see the waves of pleasure begin to ripple along his spine. He was coming furiously hard, perhaps harder than he had in a long time, no matter how many uses this toy of his had gotten on his own. She was that good at sensing and feeling and pushing and pulling exactly how and when and where he needed.
And August definitely needed. That much was abundantly clear as he collapsed fully to the bed, panting and gasping for air as he rode the waves of his lingering orgasm. She could see him twitching and knew the feeling because it was exactly how she felt after everyone of the orgasms he’d given her tonight. Like an explosion of sensation she never wanted to come down from and she’d given that to him finally.
She left him to catch his breath and stepped to the bathroom to run warm water over a soft washcloth and grab a fresh towel on the way back. When he was cleaned and dry, she tucked into the covers with him and pulled him to her, guiding his head to her chest.
“You feel okay? Need anything else right now?” she asked him quietly as her hand drifted up and down his back.
“I wanted to come inside you,” August admitted with an exhausted sigh.
“We’re gonna have a lifetime of that.”
Everything HC Taglist: If this isn't your thing, no hard feelings? (as always, let me know if you want on or off; if you've asked and your aren't here, try me again but know that Tumblr sometimes doesn't let me tag everyone.)
@sillyrabbit81 @mayloma @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @just-chirpin @thesaucynomad @valacirca @henryownsme @summersong69 @foxyjwls007 @peyton-warren @irishavengersassemble @brattymum96 @ellethespaceunicorn @juliaorpll78 @martha-oi @cardierreh15 @cinnamoroll-things @caramariehurst @zombicupcake3 @openup-yourmind @shellyshellshell @nickfowlerrr @greensleeves888 @misshinson @thelastsock @princessaxoxo @justjulie1105 @minimin1993 @agniavateira @sammat97 @meb79 @kittenofdoomage (as always Rhi. Smooches!)
#august walker fanfiction#august walker#august walker x reader#pornstar!august walker#pornstar!AU#august walker fanfic#august walker!AU#exactly what his heart meant#deandoesthingstome#mine
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LoserEllie x Fem!reader
a/n: This fic was supposed to come out in late August or early September, so I am a month late, and I'm sorry. I hope you enjoy it since I've spent a while on this (I started writing and never finished).
Warnings:smut 18+ Minors just dont interact, Smoking, Sexual thoughts, Cussing, Pet names, Teasing, Oral, Fingering, Slight mention of strap, Squirting
Everyone is aware that Ellie smokes; we have all seen it. Of course, there are also the dealer Ellie fics, which I absolutely love, but just picture Ellie making reader squirt for the first time while high!
Ellie calls you over for the "usual" hangout of smoking, fighting while playing the latest video game she purchased, exchanging lust-filled glances at each other, and taking turns going to the restroom to deal with your neediness so you don't pounce on one another. The typical predicament continues.
"Okay, how about a crash bandicoot?”
She places the joint between her soft pink lips and says, "I mean, it's whatever." Her fingers, god, her fingers, her hands, and how she flexes them after spending long hours writing or drawing, playing the guitar, rolling blunts and joints—you could go on and on...and on—is almost down to her fingers when she takes another drag.
You two have long been "friends." Everyone in town knows that you and Ellie are more than "just friends", but as far as the relationship goes, it isn't dating or just a friendship, and that kills you. You like Ellie; you really like her, and smoking enhances that feeling toward her. Additionally, it also helps to want to get pounded by her right on the couch.
She had already loaded the game and begun playing while you were still deep in thought. She was so engrossed in her game that you could see her thumbs and fingers pressing and moving the various buttons. "I'm going to get a snack, Els. You want something." She gave a brief glance over, not straining her head from facing the TV. Her gaze seemed to remain fixed on your body as you stood up, pressing your thighs together as you did so.
"Yeah..." You entered the kitchen in search of a bite to quell your hunger. You discovered cookies, popcorn, Cheezits, and wet wipes after searching the cabinets. Why were wet wipes kept in the snack cabinet?
“Ellie?” You gave her a concerned-confused look as she held up the wipes.
“What?” She looked at you, and you just waved around the wipes.
"Uh, well, keep the ants away.”
“Where the fuck did you hear that?”
“I read it or something somewhere... But that isn't a snack, bubs.” Obviously, the wet wipes weren't a snack. You walk over to her and straddle her lap.
"I'm not going to make you eat the wet wipes." Your thoughts had returned to what had just been said a few moments prior: "Wait, Ellie Williams, do you have ants!?" She gave you a dumbfounded look like a middle school boy who had just been scolded. "You have ants when you were about to let us eat food from your cupboard?"
"Calm down, baby. The wet wipes carried out their duties."
"And how do you know that?"
"I didnt hear any screaming that you saw an ant," she said. She shifted into a new position, pushing her hips a up little higher. You noticed this bump or something rigid. None of those properly expresses what you felt. The bulge in her pants was pressing directly on your clit while you were seated on Ellie's lap. You were soaked through, which was unfortunate for you. You were wet before, of course, but now it was leaking through.
Ellie picked you up and set you down next to her, but she quickly noticed the mess you had made beneath yourself. "You, um, do you need any help with..." you nodded quickly in order to get to you something you have been waiting ages for while also stopping her from finishing her sentence she laid you down in front of her, lifted up your skirt to let it rest on your torso, and pulled off the green underwear you had chosen to wear that day, which of course would need to be washed. "Just relax for me; it is okay, I’l make it feel good, promise". You trusted her i mean why wouldnt you- your trusted ellie with yourself at least, so when she kept kissing the inside of your thighs, you didn't question, but you did whine.
“Els please”
"Right, I'm sorry." She gave you her silly little smile before returning to her task at hand. Her lips were almost immediately attached to your clit. You whimpered and gasped loudly from her movements. The effects of the weed haven't faded quite yet, making all of Ellie's movements feel 10 times better, but let's be real, it's Ellie fucking Williams, and you've been wainting for this forever.
“E-el-” She slid her agile, calloused fingers into your cunt, causing you to let out an exasperated gasp, followed by a loud moan. You tilted your head forward to see her face. Her eyes were stuck to the way you just kept dripping and how her fingers were being swallowed up so easily.
“Ive got you, babe. Lay back for me. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?" Responding to her request, you nod and lay down. The pace of her fingers quickens, and she hits a spot that makes your head feel light and your tummy coil.
"Els, please." Ellies, ignoring your pleads, having lust take over. Completely, you feel yourself about to let go at any minute, any second, but it's not like all the times you've fingered yourself to the thought of her before. Ellie's mouth on your clit, her fingers thrusting out of you, you moan louder than you even knew your voice could handle. She continued quickening her pace until she drained everything out of you. You “came” all over her hands, face, and couch. She pulled her head back and paused for a moment. “I-I am so sorry, I didn't mean.”
She places her finger over your mouth to hush your apologies. "It's alright, angel; I know you couldn't help it.” You were embarrassed by your actions, but somehow, even though she had a big mess that she had to clean up, her reassuring words made everything fine. She leans right over you and places a kiss on your lips. “I think I'm in love with you. Actually, I know that I'm in love with you. I love you, bubs.”
"I love you too Els."
#the last of us 2#ellie williams#ellie williams fic#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams tlou#ellie williams smut#ellie tlou#the last of us ellie#the last of us smut#tlou part 2
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Trouvaille - Chapter Two
Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader
Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance
Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.
Word Count; 20.8k
Trouvaille Masterlist
Trouvaille playlist
Updates on the 7th of each month
Hi everyone, Dana here again! Welcome to Chapter Two, and thank you for reading and sending lovely responses to Chapter One. In this chapter, you'll meet more members, and the plot will continue to thicken in the coming installments. If you have any questions or comments about this fic, I'd love to hear from you. Again, if you'd like to be added to the taglist for Trouvaille, just let me know! Please enjoy this update, and thank you for your support :)
Previous Chapter // Next Chapter
Two hours of sleep revived Y/N enough to wake up feeling somewhat alive again, a nice, hot shower rinsing the scent of bruise cream down the drain. Wiping condensation from her mirror, she tightened the towel wrapped around her body before hastily slapping jasmine lotion on her skin. Though it was the end of August, late afternoons had started to become breezy with the bite of autumn in the air, a gentle draft floating in from the rickety window in her bathroom.
Fresh with a new pair of waffle-knit cream sweatpants, fuzzy socks, and a soft gray long sleeve tee, she reveled in wearing loungewear in the middle of the day for once – no more itchy scrubs! Satisfied with her comfortable clothing, Y/N scooped up her laptop off of her crowded desk, humming a tune while heading out to check on Seokjin again. She wondered where the other two were and if they decided to take a nap as well, or if they were wandering around the house. There were many nooks and crannies she hadn’t included in her tour, opting to show them just the bedrooms and living spaces. That way, they had more things to explore themselves.
Tiptoeing into the entryway of the green room, she nearly dropped her laptop in surprise. Seokjin was sitting upright, head turned to look out the only window unobscured by the drawn curtains. His ear flickered, picking up on Y/N’s sharp intake of breath, and gripped the water bottle he was holding tightly as his head swiveled to look in her direction.
It was the first time she got a good look at his face, full lips dropped open in shock, wide vibrant orange eyes rimmed with black lashes, sharp jawline set bracingly. His coloring seemed to be back to normal, but she wanted to get closer to make sure the fever was on its way out. Although, now that Seokjin was awake, Y/N wasn’t really sure what to say to him.
“Hi, sorry I startled you,” Y/N broke the ice, Seokjin twisting the material of the Good Charlotte shirt in his hand nervously. Tentatively, she placed her laptop on the table in the hall next to a vase. “Can I come in?”
Seokjin cleared his throat after attempting to croak out a response, beginning to move from the bed, something Y/N wished he wouldn’t do so soon.
“Y-yes…” he hoarsely replied, face screwing up in discomfort as he tried to swing his legs out from under the comforter. Y/N hurried into the room, holding her hands out in alarm.
“Oh please, don’t get up just yet! I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” Y/N exclaimed, rushing to the side of his bed while he halted his movements. She noticed how he froze as she got closer, so she refrained from getting too near at first.
“I… don’t even remember getting here,” Seokjin confessed, continuing to wind the shirt in his fist.
“You fell asleep on the ride back, Hoseok and Jimin helped you in and out of the van. I think you might have gotten a fever from having to shift suddenly when you changed at the shelter. I’m sorry, that was foolish of me to ask of you,” Y/N hung her head low, busying her hands by collecting the used facecloths on the nightstand.
“No! I mean, um, it's alright. It’s actually pretty uncomfortable to be shifted into animal form for extended periods of time,” Seokjin assured her quickly, his hand shooting out to touch her wrist briefly so she could lift her head, features melting into a sheepish expression. Shellshocked by the contact, her skin tingled where his gentle fingers had brushed for a split second before they were gone. Y/N searched his eyes, watching as he averted her gaze distractedly, focusing his attention on the window outside once more. His expression was still melancholic as he watched the breeze rustle the foliage in the backyard, eyes far away.
“How’s your side?” Y/N asked gently, tossing the face cloths in the hamper by the door. Ear twitching again, Seokjin’s lips turned downwards into a frown. Not exactly the reaction she was looking for.
Seokjin, fingers trembling, lifted the bottom of his shirt, exposing the patch of gauze, a little gasp falling from his mouth. The gauze was clean, bleeding stopped, and Y/N was proud of herself for cleaning up the site so well, her nerves dissipated a degree.
“You– did you do this?” Seokjin’s fingers grazed the gauze, shoulders sagging as his hands stopped shaking at once.
“Uh… yes, I did. Again, I’m sorry, I don’t usually touch people without their permission, but I wanted to make sure infection didn’t set in so you could heal quickly,” Y/N felt like sticking her head in sand with the flow of the conversation.
Seokjin shook his head quickly, back to fidgeting with the shirt. “Oh, I’m never any good at saying what I mean, I’m grateful that you fixed it… thank you,” he scolded himself under his breath, Y/N’s eyebrows pulling together in confusion. It was instances like this that made her desperate for a little background information on the hybrid’s history, so she could understand why three out of seven so far seemed guilty for receiving kindness of any sort.
“Seokjin, how are you feeling, fever-wise? Do you need some Advil, are you hungry?” Y/N inquired, setting a new bottle of water on his nightstand. He eyed the bottle as she spoke, seemingly neither here nor there.
“I’m better, I think, the chills are gone. Really, I don’t want to trouble you with cooking for me,” Seokjin mumbled, cheeks going pink. Y/N scoffed watching the shadow of doubt cross over his face.
“And I don’t want you to worry about something silly like that. Before I saw that you were awake, I was going to check on you and make some lunch for all of us,” Y/N explained, watching the wheels turn in his head. “I’ll bring your’s to you in a bit.”
Seokjin pushed the comforter off of himself, growing antsy. Anxiety rolled off of him in tangible waves, etched in his features.
“Should I help?” Seokjin tried very hard to keep discomfort off of his face as he twisted to get off the bed once more, stubbornness in his personality becoming apparent to Y/N. It was endearing, if anything. She stopped him by dragging the comforter back over his legs, and before thinking too much about it, placed a light hand on his shoulder to ease him back against the pillows. His ears twitched in reaction to the touch, small protests coming from him as she uncapped the fresh bottle of water and placed it in his hands to replace the empty one.
“While I appreciate the offer, you should rest for a little while longer. How about this, instead of bringing lunch in here, I can help you out into the kitchen when it’s done, and you can eat with us all,” Y/N compromised, knowing that eating alone can be alienating for some. Besides, being cooped up all day was likely making him feel stir-crazy in an unfamiliar home.
Seokjin brightened a little with her offer, the corner of his mouth curling upwards shakily, shimming downwards into the bed a few inches. Obediently, he took a few swigs of the water.
“Alright, I can do that,” Seokjin conceded. Giving him a bright smile, she walked over to the bookcase in search of something to keep him busy.
“By the way, sorry about your shirt. I had to fish out one of my old concert tees after patching you up, the other one had gotten stained…” Y/N scanned the bookshelf, plucking the one she was searching for off of the middle shelf. “How about a book while you wait for lunch?”
Turning back to him, Seokjin was pulling the shirt away from him so he could examine the print, an odd look on his face as he read the text. Back at his side, she presented him with the embossed copy of The Fellowship of the Ring. He took it carefully, palm sliding over the gilded cover. Y/N switched the lamp on beside him so he could read.
“Thank you…” Seokjin cracked the book open, bringing it up close to his face so he could stare at the illustrated map of Middle Earth. His eyes were clouded with something she couldn’t place; something between nostalgia and grief. “I’ve heard of these movies, before.”
“I have the extended version box set on DVD. We could watch it, sometime,” Y/N grinned, Seokjin’s cheeks rounding out as he broke out into something adjacent to hope.
“I’d like that,” he replied quietly, Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes downcast.
The last thing Y/N wanted was to make Seokjin cry, though she had no idea why he had reacted to the subject of Lord of the Rings the way he did. There was no way she was prying, but it almost seemed like he was flipping through a scrapbook of memories from the past rather than a novel.
Sticking around felt strange, and Seokjin was absorbed in the map still, so Y/N decided to take her leave. Inching towards the door, she wondered how, or if, she could avoid provoking such a melancholy reaction from Seokjin in the future.
“I’ll come and get you in a bit!” Y/N called, leaving the door open. Retrieving her laptop from the table, she resumed her journey to the kitchen. Along the way, she kept her eyes peeled for Jimin or Hoseok; the basement door was left partially open, but there was no sign of the fox hybrid. The hallway and foyer were empty, so she assumed the two were still in their rooms.
In the kitchen, she set up her laptop for later. She wasn’t quite sure what to make for lunch, as it had been a while since she had gone to the grocery store. On the island, there was a large loaf of Italian bread and some lovely heirloom tomatoes her mother dropped off two days prior. Y/N was fairly sure she had some more ingredients to make sandwiches out of the bread, if she cut it lengthwise and then into four.
Checking out the sad state of the fridge, shelves empty but a few bottles of condiments and cartons of fruit, she groaned. While working at the hospital, she often got pizza locally or ate with her parents – and her cabinets reflected it. Spotting a package of mozzarella and a little jar of pesto, she pulled them from the fridge, humming as her stomach growled uncomfortably. It had been hours since she had eaten, herself.
After laying down a thick layer of pesto on the bread, layering mozzarella slices with the tomato, she seasoned everything with salt, pepper, balsamic vinegar and olive oil before separating the loaf into four even sandwiches. She stuck the sandwiches on a baking tray to crispen up in the oven, and emptied a large bag of kettle-cooked potato chips into a bowl, placing it on the breakfast nook table for everyone to help themselves. Getting plates out from the cupboard, Y/N sliced a few peaches from the fruit basket and arranged them on the plates and set the table with napkins, silverware, glasses and a pitcher of water.
With the sandwiches in the oven for fifteen minutes, she had enough time to prioritize items on her list on her laptop. The most important: calling her family, Ben, and the bank, which she’d tackle after lunch. Second, was ordering the phones and at least a week’s worth of clothes for all seven hybrids. She would make the haircut appointments last, and maybe even poke around on hybrid databases to see if she could get more information about her hybrids.
There was a website that hybrid owners could plug in the specific number that gets mailed to them shortly after adoption along with the official papers, not unlike a social security number. Once plugging in the number to the database, medical history becomes available to the owner, as well as information relating to the hybrid’s past, and upbringing. Of course, she would have to wait at least a week for the official adoption papers to come in the mail, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t check out some of the other features of the databases.
Contemplating on whether or not to draft up a script to read to Ben simply to get through the phone call later on, she passed a hand over her face. She had never kept a secret from him, and though it was only several hours after the adoptions, making a major life decision without consulting him even once made her feel rotten. Besides, she hadn’t called to check in on how Daisy was faring, which made her feel even worse. Talking to her parents was a whole other ordeal – her mother, she predicted, would be thrilled that Y/N decided to adopt a hybrid. However, the fact that there were seven of them, and they were all men, might temper her excitement. Her father, as she could only guess of his reaction considering he ran hot and cold most of the time; would either call her crazy or ask if any of them needed a heart check-up. Groaning, she dreaded both phone calls equally.
The scent of basil and toasted bread began to perfume the air, alerting her of the perfect time to round up the hybrids for lunch. Pushing herself off the barstool, she headed to Jimin’s room first. Past the closed door of her grandfather’s old office, the late afternoon light illuminating the house from the sunroom at the end of the hallway, the door to Jimin’s room was sandwiched between the two. It was the part of the house that got the most sun, perhaps why Jimin had chosen the blue room in the first place.
Stopping in front of the door, Y/N took a deep breath in, hoping she wouldn’t be waking him from a nap, and knocked twice.
“Jimin? Lunch is just about ready,” Y/N called, blinking as she waited for a response. Seconds passed, before she heard a scuffle against the floor and the closing of the bathroom door within his room. The door opened, the scent of lavender shampoo smacking her in the face, Jimin’s serene face appearing in the doorframe nearly making her swoon. He’d showered, judging by the wet strands of sandy hair that were slicked back, allowing Y/N to get an unobstructed view of his sculpted face. She was at a loss for words, Jimin placing the towel around his neck on the door handle to dry as he stepped out into the hallway.
“It smells good, what did you make?” Jimin asked, giving her that same intense eye contact he had in the van as he stared down at her. Gulping, Y/N recovered by tearing her eyes from him, picking imaginary dust off of her shirt.
“Caprese sandwiches! I have a bit of grocery shopping to do, the fridge is looking a little depressing. I’m thinking of ordering everything online, but in that case we can’t pick our own produce. Then again, we could go to the farmer’s market tomorrow,” Y/N babbled while Jimin made a noise of approval, trying her best not to walk stiffly next to him on their way down the hall. She was rambling, the way she always did when she was nervous, but it was hard to calm down with such a handsome man clinging on to every word she spoke.
Jimin followed her towards the basement in tandem, a sort of bow-legged shape to his stride, hands clasped behind his back. It was a shame he had to put the clothes he traveled in back on after his shower, Y/N hoped that she could overnight some other options for everyone.
“I heard Hoseok in the kitchen earlier, getting water, so he should be awake,” Jimin informed her, studying the way she lifted her hand to knock on the door with minor amusement. “He’ll hear you if you call.”
“Um, okay,” Y/N laughed shakily, not entirely comfortable with both yelling down to Hoseok and the way Jimin watched her so closely, like she was some kind of colorful lizard. Wedging the basement door open a bit more, she called, “Hoseok, come get some lunch!” Cringing at the sound of her voice echoing down the stairs, she swore she heard a light snicker from Jimin, but didn’t dare turn to blind herself with his megawatt smile to confirm.
The sound of Hoseok’s light footsteps bounded up the stairs two at a time, and Y/N figured she should go ahead and get Seokjin. Hoseok’s flushed face appeared from the top of the stairs, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple, and Y/N wondered if he was the first one to make use of the gym.
“I’m gonna go get Seok–” Y/N started, turning on her heel, before squeaking in surprise at the sight of the very hybrid she was about to fetch leaning against the staircase landing. Sleek black tail flicking back and forth lazily, he regarded the three of them with an expression that almost read smug.
“H-how long was he standing there?” Y/N murmured to Jimin, who looked like he was biting back a shit-eating grin. So this was how it was going to be.
“The whole time,” Jimin answered, Hoseok cracking up behind her. Face scarlet, Y/N felt a little foolish for babying Seokjin so hard when he could clearly get up and about, and was even more embarrassed she hadn’t even realized him standing there in the first place. Too busy trying not to trip under Jimin’s gaze, she supposed. Regardless, she was slightly humiliated.
“I’m okay now, I swear,” Seokjin assured, speaking directly to Y/N. Standing on his own two feet, Seokjin was tall and even broader than she originally thought, the material of her old shirt pulling against his shoulders and across his pecs. Overwhelmed, Y/N nodded dumbly, a shock of electricity shooting through her as Hoseok brushed past her, his hand briefly steadying her shoulder as he went. Hell.
“With the way you were passed out in the car, I thought you were on the precipice of death,” Hoseok clapped a hand over Seokjin’s back, the latter’s tail swishing in an agitated manner contrary to his amicable expression.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky I didn’t puke on you,” Seokjin pushed Hoseok away, trailing after him in the direction of the kitchen.
“Actually, it was Jimin who was cradling your top half, Jin. Try again,” Hoseok sang, reaching back to grasp his tail so Seokjin wouldn’t get a hold of it and yank. Stunned at the spectacle, Y/N peered up at Jimin curiously, who was politely waiting for her to lead the way. Finally unfreezing, she hurried to the kitchen.
“Jin?” She whispered to Jimin, who stooped to hear her. A strand of his damp hair fell forward, brushing the side of her neck.
“Those two arrived at the shelter together. They were one of the first ones of us there, took a liking to each other,” Jimin spoke softly in her ear, husky voice making her shiver. It was relieving that the three hybrids that she had brought home first all got along well, but it did concern her that she’d potentially be disturbing the easy peace so soon by bringing home others. She’d pick their brains later that night to get a sense of the others, considering Jimin, Hoseok, and Seokjin didn’t have a problem interacting with her.
In the kitchen, she showed them where to sit at the breakfast nook while she pulled the sandwiches out of the oven. They were perfectly toasted, and the scent alone triggered a loud grumble from her stomach, which she was positive the hybrids could hear. Hurriedly, she placed the baking tray on the island, using a spatula to slide the sandwiches on the plates with the peaches. They were chatting, too quiet for her to hear, but she adored the way the kitchen was already filled with life, loneliness be damned.
Balancing three plates in her hands at once, she carefully made her way to the booth, putting a plate in front of each hybrid, excited for them to finally get some food in their stomachs. Hoseok whistled again, a particular tune becoming familiar to her already, and she dashed to retrieve her own plate and settle down next to Seokjin. Pouring herself some water, she wiggled in her seat happily as she reached for some chips for her plate. Napkin in her lap, she paused, noticing the sudden silence around her, and lack of chewing. Looking up from her plate, she frowned.
“Something wrong? Does it smell funky?” Y/N sniffed the sandwich, wondering if the cheese had gone bad, but it smelled heavenly. Jimin ducked his head, clearing his throat awkwardly.
“No, no, we were just waiting for you to start first…” Hoseok fiddled with the stem of his water glass, face closed off a tad. Frowning further, Y/N recalled this habit from her father’s friend’s hybrid, who would never begin eating until he did. It was something they were trained to do as children in labs, she was told by her father, which always made her stomach turn – and she couldn’t believe she forgot.
“Oh, God. You don’t have to do that, ever, dig in while it’s hot! Please,” Y/N pleaded, already hating when people watched her eat, and wanting to sink into the floor. Glancing at each other sideways, they hesitantly began to help themselves to chips, Jimin spearing a peach on his fork slowly. Deciding to speed up the process, Y/N took a larger-than-normal bite of her sandwich, trying not to moan from the flavors melting on her taste buds. The last thing she remembered eating was a sad hummus wrap during her lunch break yesterday, so the cheesy sandwich was exactly what she needed to soak up any gin left in her body.
Seokjin’s elbow kept brushing her side as he ate his sandwich, cheeks filled with food as he ate with gusto. In fact, the three of them ate with such speed, Y/N found herself the last to finish her own sandwich, Hoseok batting Seokjin’s hand away for the last few salt and vinegar chips. She giggled at Seokjin’s offended expression, eyes blown comically wide, Hoseok shooting her a wink. Thankfully, she had swallowed the peach she had been chewing, because she definitely would have choked with that whole exchange.
“That was delicious. Ah, I forgot how good tomatoes can be,” Hoseok sighed in satisfaction, passing a hand over his stomach as he leaned back on the cushy booth. Y/N caught Jimin catching a drop of peach juice dripping down his fingertip with his tongue, averting her gaze quickly before he could realize he was being watched.
“Our neighbors grew them in their garden. The Robinsons, I’ll introduce you to them, they’re very kind. Mrs. Robinson is my mother’s closest friend,” Y/N informed them, chewing on her last peach slice thoughtfully. She had been meaning to go over to her neighbor’s for a few weeks for tips on starting a garden next spring, and how to go about restoring the rusted greenhouse towards the back of her property. It would definitely be a fun project to include the hybrids in, gardening was rewarding and would be very convenient to be able to pick an abundance of produce for the growing number of mouths to feed in the house.
“So, you’re close with your parents,” Hoseok said this like a confirmation of a fact, rather than a question, but it didn’t bother Y/N. The assumption he made was correct, her parents were ever-present in her life and constant support, and even thinking about them briefly made her feel uncomfortable for not consulting them about the adoptions. She nodded, collecting plates and utensils from the hybrids.
“Yeah, we’re pretty close. They come around here frequently, so I ought to beat them to the punch and pay them a visit before they surprise us,” Seokjin handed her his plate, thanking her quietly as she stood to take them to the sink. Spinning back to the fridge, she opened up the freezer, the suspicion that she had chocolate coated ice cream bars under a bag of frozen dumplings confirmed. “Ice cream, anyone?”
The hybrids were by her side as soon as the words left her mouth. Apparently, these were the magic words, and she tucked that information away for later.
Handing each of them a wrapped bar as they loitered around the kitchen island, she got to work on rinsing the plates and shoving everything in the dishwasher. Seokjin sunk into a barstool across from her, memorizing the details of the kitchen appliances and the way she loaded dishes into the machine. Meanwhile, the other two began to bring leftover items from the breakfast table to the dishwasher, ice cream coating their lips as they bickered back and forth. Cleanup went a lot faster with a few additional hands, even if they were preoccupied with enjoying their frozen treats, and it felt like they had enjoyed hundreds of meals together before.
“Y/N, can we take Jin on the tour of the place?” Hoseok asked suddenly, after tossing his popsicle stick in the garbage drawer Y/N was scraping chip crumbs into. Brightening, Y/N saw this as the perfect opportunity to slip away and make her phone calls. Now behind Seokjin still slouched on the barstool, Hoseok playfully rubbed his shoulders, the former blushing and attempting to peel Hoseok’s hands away from him. “Now that he can walk, of course.”
“Oh, go ahead! You can pick a bedroom you like, just like they did, too – you don’t have to stay in my old childhood bedroom,” Y/N dried her hands on a kitchen towel, promising herself she would clean out that old wardrobe as soon as Seokjin moved out of the green room. Stumbling to his feet, Seokjin tried to catch Hoseok by his ear, hobbling after him. The men started to head towards the hall, Jimin pausing next to Y/N while Hoseok’s lively laugh echoed in the foyer.
“Are you coming?” Jimin asked, head cocking curiously. Shaking her head, she pocketed her phone, which was practically burning a hole in her thigh.
“I have to make a couple of calls, I trust you and Hoseok to show Seokjin around just as well as I could,” she assured, leading him out into the foyer. Jimin scratched the back of his neck, Y/N smiling fondly at the sound of Hoseok’s bright laughter as Seokjin pushed him around. Jimin joined the others, Hoseok eagerly ushering Seokjin down into the basement and waiting for the coyote hybrid to follow.
Sighing, Y/N dragged her feet to the patio, deciding she might as well get comfortable if she was in for an earful. Calling Ben, first, was likely her wisest option, considering he would definitely be the more disapproving between him and her parents. She groaned as she unlocked her phone, four messages since last night left unread.
Ben Alpin: Morning, granny! Someone is settling in nicely~
The first message had an attached image of Daisy seated at Ben’s glass dining room table, a comically tall stack of fluffy pancakes in front of her. She had on a pair of Disney princess pajamas Roy had picked out on a trip he had gone on with Ben months ago on a whim – talk about foresight.
Ben Alpin: You must be hungover, huh? Give me a call so we can check in, we want to see you Sunday for brunch!
Ben Alpin: Y/N, are you okay??
Ben Alpin: Call me!!!
She could put off the call no longer, she had a feeling if any more time passed, Ben would end up on her lawn. Settling on a lounge chair, noticing the sun starting to set sooner now that the summer was coming to a close, she took a deep breath and let the line ring. He picked up on the second ring.
“Jesus! Did you just wake up? How many episodes of Hell’s Kitchen did you watch while polishing off that bottle of Hendrick’s last night?” Ben bypassed hellos, the sound of a tinkling baby xylophone and childish giggles coming through the receiver.
“No, no! I’ve just been a little busy today, I’m sorry for making you worry,” Y/N breathed, wondering how the hell she would even breach the subject of her last 12 hours. “How’s Daisy?”
“Y/N, she’s an angel, I swear. Did you get that picture? I actually cooked this morning, can you believe it? Roy almost died from shock,” Ben gushed, and Y/N couldn’t remember the last time he sounded so joyful.
“Those pancakes looked delicious. I can’t believe those pajamas fit her so perfectly, too,” Y/N stalled, smacking herself in the face. She had to just bite the bullet.
“Roy’s out shopping for her clothes now. I wasn’t allowed to come, he said I’d go over budget,” Ben chuckled, saying something unintelligible to Daisy while leaning away from the receiver.
“Uh… Ben, I have to tell you something,” Y/N rushed out, biting down on her lip hard.
“What? Do you need Roy to swing by and fix something?”
“No, that’s not it. Listen, it’s about last night at the shelter.”
“...What about it?” Ben asked slowly, the sound of him walking into another room making her even more nervous.
“Well, I wandered off while you two were meeting Daisy, remember? I didn’t go to the bathroom, I found another room in the back. Hybrids were in there,” Y/N murmured into the phone, eyes squeezed shut. Ben was quiet on the other line for a moment, waiting for her to continue.
“There were more hybrids,” Ben confirmed, sounding confused. “The shopkeeper said they only had one, Daisy.”
“The room was sectioned off for aggressives and exotics, and the shopkeeper already had a potential buyer. I looked into the room, and saw them all in their shifted forms, I saw an injured jaguar, there was a wolf…”
“Wait, wait, wait. Why didn’t you say anything last night? Why do I have the feeling you did something very, very stupid?” Ben exclaimed, alarmed. Y/N swallowed, bracing herself.
“Don’t be mad, please! I had to do something, the man picking them up was going to use them for hunting,” Y/N whined, curling in on herself on the lounge chair.
“Did you adopt them?” Ben’s voice pitched upwards in surprise, however, he didn’t seem to sound angered.
“Yes,” Y/N whispered back, almost tearing a hole in her lip.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe it. I’m almost proud you did something without making a pros and cons list and presenting it to me first. But still, Y/N, this is crazy. Are they with you now? You said a wolf and a jaguar?” Shocked by his reaction, Y/N breathed out heavily in relief.
“I took three of them home today. I have to go back for the others,” Y/N answered, relaxing back on her chair.
“Three? The others?” Ben repeated, astonished.
“Actually, there’s seven of them. I adopted seven,” Y/N rubbed her temples, realizing that saying this out loud sounded a lot more insane than it did in her head.
“Seven!? You adopted seven hybrids?” Ben hollered through the phone, cursing as he shut himself into a room, likely to yell at her away from Daisy’s ears. “What were you thinking? Do you have any idea how much responsibility and work comes with taking care of that many hybrids?”
Chastised, Y/N sucked her teeth, not liking the tone of condescension threading his voice. She was optimistic, not stupid, and knew that she had her share of difficulties ahead of her.
“Of course I know. I couldn’t just let them get shipped off to their deaths, Ben. Especially when I have the means to care for them,” Y/N ground out through her teeth.
“I get that, Y/N, and I’m aware that you have space for them in that house, but I’m just worried for you, that’s all. I don’t think you’d be too thrilled with me if I informed you I had just adopted seven aggressive hybrids out of the blue,” Ben drove home, a stab of annoyance jolting through her as she reluctantly agreed with him.
“You’re right, I wouldn’t be. But Ben, I promise you, it’s been so far so good today. The three here with me now are nothing but sweet,” Y/N sighed, hoping she could wrap up the conversation before the sun went down.
“I don’t know, Y/N. Part of me is happy for you, but I’m still concerned about how you’ll manage to juggle this. You just quit your job, for Christ’s sake! Can I come by this week to meet them?” The sound of Ben scratching his beard anxiously crackled through the phone.
Meeting the hybrids would likely set Ben’s mind at ease, and Y/N was hoping her friends would welcome them into their circle down the line anyways. Besides, Ben would never stop badgering her about making a half-cocked decision until he sized them up, confirming they were no threat to her. Y/N’s main concern was the wolf hybrid, who had regarded her with hostility; convincing Ben that he was harmless would be no easy feat when she didn’t even know that herself yet.
“Why don’t you come by on Friday with Roy. We can have our end-of-the-summer cookout. I think it would be nice for the hybrids to meet you and enjoy themselves. It’ll give them some time to get acclimated here before then, too.”
Ben exhaled slowly, and Y/N could picture him shaking his head disapprovingly. She picked at her fingernails waiting for his response.
“I forgot about our cookout, of course we’ll come. You have to call Laura and Alice, though. I won’t be the messenger for this bombshell,” Ben warned, though a hint of a smile came through his voice. Relieved, Y/N fist-bumped the air, the worst of the scolding over with.
“Can you bring those special cupcakes again?” Y/N requested cheekily, mouth already watering over lavender cake and s’mores flavored cupcakes – Ben always bought an array.
“I’ll put the order in today. I’m going to have to order about a hundred for the additional mouths, aren’t I?” Ben switched to speaker mode, fingers tapping away at presumably the bakery’s website order form.
“Get extra strawberry ones! Also, bring Daisy along to the cookout. Laura will be bringing Kai, maybe they can be friends,” Y/N offered, hoping to cut some additional tension. Ben chuckled.
“Brilliant idea, Kai’s only a year or so younger than Daisy, and at that age children learn from each other. We’ll be there. Listen, Y/N – I gotta fly. I think Roy is home,” Ben rushed, Roy’s voice floating through the townhouse looking for him. “Be safe. And call me if anything happens.”
“I will. Talk to you tomorrow,” Y/N bid goodbye, Ben calling out to Roy before hanging up. A significant weight lifted off of her shoulders, and her newfound excitement for the cookout next week had her itching to break out her cookbooks.
Every year since she was a kid, her grandparents hosted an end-of-summer cookout at the house. Ben had been attending the cookout for as long as she had, when they were young her grandparent’s friends, her parents, and neighbors filled the backyard with music, good food, and a toasty bonfire. As her grandparents got older, the cookouts became smaller, between Ben, her parents and perhaps a few neighbors, before the event stopped when her grandparents moved out. When Y/N moved into the house a year ago, she and Ben had decided to continue the tradition again, something her parents adored, and neighbors appreciated. Everyone brought something to contribute to the meal, and it was a memorable event Y/N was eager to share with the hybrids. Easing into plans for the cookout seemed to be the way to go when calling her parents, before telling them about the new additional guests.
Standing, Y/N stretched her arms, making her way to the long picnic dining table by the largest willow in the backyard. It could comfortably seat about 30 people, made years ago by her grandfather’s close woodshop hobbyist friend, and was as good a place as any to sit and talk to her parents. Putting the phone on speaker, she brushed a few leaves from the table and noted that it needed a good scrub.
“Honey? How are you?” Her mother picked up her father’s phone, the two always together since his semi-retirement.
“Hi mom! I’m great, is dad with you?”
“Yes, he’s right here! We’re out on the balcony having some tea, autumn is in the air, honey!” Her mother exclaimed, a huge fan of the seasonal holidays.
“Hey, sweetheart! What are you up to? Are you going to host our cookout next week?” Her father piped up, sounding somewhat far away.
“I’m sitting at the cookout table now, dad! How’s Friday looking? That’s when I’m planning on having it,” Y/N shouted like she was trying to reach someone on Mars, her father a bit hard of hearing.
“Friday’s good, honey! Full moon that night, I’ll bring some cards,” her mother crooned. Her mother was a pagan, and often liked to include others in moon rituals when she could; it was very fun growing up.
“Okay, good,” Y/N chuckled, pushing hair from her face.
“Your dad will make the famous mac and cheese! And we’ll bring all of the buns, too, and your mother’s black bean burgers,” her father shouted, his throat hoarse.
“About that… Could you make some extra? There’s going to be a few more people than last year,” Y/N braced herself, hoping that they’d take the news better than Ben.
“Sure, honey, who else will be there? Did you invite your ex-coworkers?” Her mother asked, slurping her tea noisily.
“No, actually. I have some new housemates,” Y/N replied, hiding behind her hands like her parents could see her.
“Oh that’s wonderful, Y/N! Where did you meet them?” Her father exclaimed, joy coloring his voice.
“Well, to tell you the truth, they’re hybrids. I’ve made some adoptions.”
Her mother gasped delightedly, the sound of a teacup clattering onto a saucer making Y/N’s ears ring.
“You did? Oh, darling, didn’t I tell you she would? Didn’t I?” Her mother gushed to her father, who was laughing heartily. That was definitely not the reaction she was expecting, but her mother had been known to have her random premonitions.
“You’re not mad?” Y/N confirmed, eyebrows up in her hairline.
“Of course not, honey! How many are there? We’ll make enough for everybody. I’m signing them up for my book club too! When can I see you for all the details?” Her mother rambled like Y/N did, a habit passed down.
“Seven. I’ll swing by at some point this week and bring them along,” Y/N promised, her father asking her mother loudly how many pounds of pasta he should make. She had severely underestimated her parent’s attitudes towards the adoptions, and had a suspicion they were talking amongst themselves about her solitude behind her back.
“Seven! My goodness, I’ll have to make some more bean burgers and get them in the freezer. Make sure you do some shopping, honey, your fridge is barren. Absolutely barren!”
“Yes, mom. I’m working on it, I’m hoping to get to the store tomorrow,” Y/N rolled her eyes with amusement, swatting a mosquito away from her wrist.
The sun had sunk behind the trees, it must have been close to 4:30, and Y/N’s to-do list was still stretching on and on. With the coming of evening, she started to get even more antsy for the upcoming morning return to the shelter. She wondered who would come back with her, and she hoped they all would.
“I should get going, you guys. I’m going to order some takeout and make a few online orders, the hybrids need a few sets of clothes between now and when we go to the shopping center,” Y/N dragged herself off of the bench, noticing a few lights on on the second floor of the house. The sight warmed her heart, and she was ready to return to the three hybrids waiting for her. They must have finished their tour by now.
“Alright, honey. Give us a call sometime in the next few days, we’re looking forward to seeing you and your new friends! Love you,” her father made a kissy sound through the phone, voice muffled as her mother fumbled for the phone.
“Love you both!” Y/N sang, laughing as her father hung up before her mother could steal her attention for twenty more minutes.
With the phone calls out of the way, Y/N felt like she had climbed a mountain. Crickets began to chirp pleasantly in the uncut lawn, dusk quickly approaching, and Y/N made her way back to the kitchen door and into the warmly lit kitchen. Rummaging through the “junk drawer” under the coffee maker, Y/N grasped the takeout pamphlet for her favorite Thai restaurant in town, thanking the sky for their speedy late-night deliveries. She felt like treating the hybrids to a cozy movie night with some yummy food, curled up in the cushy parlor room browsing menswear on her laptop, before getting a good night’s sleep to prepare for the morning.
Making her way out into the hall, she followed the sound of Jimin’s rugged accent to the sunroom, which was soaking up the height of the evening’s sunset. The red brick flooring cast terracotta about the place, houseplants turning the glass room into something like a cozy treehouse. Seokjin was actually misting a plant with the little glass bottle she had left on the wooden coffee table, Jimin explaining something to do with horse training to Hoseok. The three hadn’t noticed her standing in the doorway, watching as they stood around the spider plant.
Clearing her throat, three pairs of ears twitched right on cue, Seokjin immediately setting the mister down and meeting Y/N halfway across the room. For some reason that surprised her, Seokjin seemed to like having close proximity to her already despite his initial anxiety. His eyes were trained on the pamphlet she was holding.
“I was thinking about watching a couple of movies tonight and ordering out, if you guys want to join me? This Thai place is one of my favorites, it's right in the center of town,” Y/N gave the pamphlet to Seokjin, who brushed his fingers over her’s accidentally, electricity zapping through the skin once again. He hummed looking at the delicious plate of pad see ew on the front of the menu, evidently not noticing the effect his casual touches had on Y/N’s already frazzled nerves.
“Yeah, that sounds really nice,” Jimin confirmed, trying to peer over Seokjin’s broad shoulders at the pamphlet he was holding. “I’ve never had Thai food.”
“Me neither,” Seokjin murmured while he flipped through the menu, quickly handing it to Jimin so he could follow Y/N making her way to the flatscreen in the other room. Hoseok was telling Jimin to get some khao soi, trying to steal away the menu, and Jimin wasn’t having it as he tried to step on Hoseok’s light foot.
The four headed into the parlor room noisily, the large velvety sofa stacked with plenty of cozy knitted throws and fluffy pillows and simply begging to be sunk into. Y/N chose the leather recliner next to the sofa to comfortably surf the web without disrupting the others, pulling a throw over her legs and listening to Hoseok recommend dishes to everybody. Seokjin awkwardly perched himself at the end of the couch closest to Y/N’s recliner, flinching as Hoseok tossed a blanket over his lap for him.
“So jumpy,” Hoseok remarked, wasting no time getting comfortable in the center of the sofa, feet propped up on the upholstered ottoman. Jimin, distractedly lowering himself at the far end of the couch away from Hoseok, continued to flip through the Thai menu with a torn expression – Y/N has been there before trying to pick from the 100 menu items.
She stretched for the remote on the side table beside her and switched the television on. Suddenly, she had that feeling when she was watching something with her parents, saddled with the task of putting something on that everyone could enjoy, and she had no idea what that could be at the moment.
“Uh… what should we watch?” Y/N mumbled, embarrassed. Flicking through her movie library slowly, she noticed that she had been on a crappy 90’s sci fi binge for the past few months, mortification washing over her.
“Anything but that,” Hoseok gasped, lip curled in disgust, pointing at the thumbnail of The Bride of Chucky. Jimin shuddered as he looked up to see what Hoseok was referring to. Pity.
“Okay, so no dolls. Or horror? How about Harry Potter?” Y/N wondered aloud, scrolling to the series’ page. Seokjin shifted beside her, curling his legs underneath him and adjusting the chunky knit throw tighter around his body.
“I’ve only seen bits and pieces of one of them as a kid. Why not?” Hoseok finally tore the menu from Jimin, who was fluffing a pillow next to him to burrow into.
“I’ll watch anything, we didn’t watch much other than local news at the ranch,” Jimin added, reaching to fiddle with the silver hoop in his left ear. Y/N wondered if hybrids could hear from both their animal and human sets of ears, but decided to look it up later rather than ask them.
“Sound good, Seokjin?” Y/N leaned towards him, his sunset eyes darting over the summary of the film on the screen. Ears fluttering, he nodded, offering her a small half-smile.
“Okay! There’s a lot of them, so we can probably get through two of them tonight,” Y/N queued up the movie, readying her laptop as well. “I’ll order the food in like an hour?”
Hoseok gave her a thumbs up, another throw blanket pulled up to his chin like a little burrito with fox ears. There was a pad of paper and pen on her side table, and she passed it to Seokjin to write down his order.
“Put down whatever you’d like here for the order, don’t worry about ordering too much because believe me, I can eat a bottomless amount of Thai food,” Y/N joked, hoping it would inspire them to try whatever they wanted and alleviate Jimin’s indecision written across his face.
With that, Y/N started the movie, kicking up the footrest of her recliner. The hybrids settled into silence, Seokjin hastily scribbling his order down so he could focus on the opening scene with rapt attention.
While the sandwiches were in the oven earlier, with a little research, Y/N had discovered she could simply request the hybrid credit cards using the bank website, saving her from a third lengthy phone call after lunch. Logging onto the website for her local bank, she followed a link to hybrid finances, where a form popped up requesting her to link her account to the applications, as well as the names for the intended hybrids to be printed on the card. At the shelter that morning, Y/N wrote down all of the hybrid’s names in a notes app, so she diligently plugged in all of the necessary information on the forms, picked a reasonable limit for the cards, and selected an emerald green color for the plastic. Double checking all of the spelling and details before submitting the form, Y/N happily checked off one of her to-do’s while making a reminder to be on the lookout for the parcel of cards in the mail over the next couple of days.
Next were the phones. She could get a really great discount ordering seven at once through her grandfather’s company, which was how she got her own phone, plan, and upgrades. Company phones certainly came with perks, but she often found one of her cousins would steal her upgrade – unluckily for them, this time around Y/N would be stealing all of their upgrades for the next few years. Ordering the latest version of the phone she had herself, she figured the hybrids could customize their phones with cases later on rather than picking ones for them. Eyes glazing over at the price even with the company discounts and data plan fee subtracted, she worried at her lip over finding another job as soon as possible.
The phones were to arrive as soon as Monday. Y/N hummed along to the tune playing while Harry and the other first-years crossed the lake into Hogwarts in boats, the soundtrack as familiar as breathing, while googling for a good hybrid menswear website. After a few clicks, she found a site with quality fabrics and next-day shipping, perfect for what she was looking for. Along with the hybrid’s names, she had copied down their measurements and sizes so she could get them things that fit well.
Hoseok, perhaps subconsciously, began to whistle along with Y/N’s humming to the movie. Already, Y/N felt much better having the three hybrids with her – there was something so comforting about the presence of others in the home with her, making the atmosphere feel safe and cozy. Tucking away the warm and fuzzy feeling for later, she got down to business picking out some basic outfits. It was nice to have Jimin, Hoseok, and Seokjin physically there, so she could take their colorings into account when picking out shades for garments, but she found herself wishing she knew what the other four looked like. She’d stick to neutrals for them, maybe picking one or two bright items for fun.
Her cart filled up quickly. For all of them, she selected a pack of socks, undershirts, and underwear to last them for about a week, as well as three sets of checked pajama pants and soft sleep shirts. Keeping in mind the current climate, which was the last gasp of a humid and sweltering summer, she avoided sweaters and thick trousers, as hard as it was to pass up a maroon sweater that would look perfect on Hoseok. She was sure that they would end up picking up fall attire of their own choosing later on, however, Y/N was surprised that it was so difficult to suppress her urge to pick out entire wardrobes for them in one go.
A pair of jeans for each hybrid in a classic wash seemed appropriate, as well as two pairs of shorts, another pair of sweatpants, and some linen pants to beat the heat. Moving onto shirts, Y/N picked out three basic tees each, a hoodie, and one long sleeve heavy cotton shirt per hybrid. For Seokjin, she added a lavender v-neck that would complement his fiery eye color, a rustic looking beige linen button down for Jimin, and a sage green thin thermal for Hoseok. She randomly picked other shirts that caught her eye for the remaining four in their sizes, hoping that the colors weren’t ones they despised, and added some basic slides for each of them for kicking around the house. Before she could go too crazy, she checked out and made sure the order would be on the doorstep come morning.
“Who’s that?” Jimin vocalized suddenly, confusion dripping from his tone. Y/N peeked up at the screen, shooting a glance at the three sprawled on the couch, Hoseok tsking at Jimin.
“That’s Dumbledore, from the beginning, remember? He’s the headmaster,” Seokjin replied, not even sparing the coyote hybrid a glance. Y/N snorted softly, Jimin’s eyebrows still pulling together in perplexion. Seokjin, it seemed, was trying very hard to analyze every detail of the movie as if he was going to be quizzed on it.
“Yeah, Jimin, get with the program,” Hoseok chided, elbowing him in the rib and joining Y/N in her snickers of amusement.
“Should I order the food now?” Y/N checked her watch, it was half past eight, and her stomach was already starting to rumble again. She was also dying for a Saturday night cocktail.
“Sure – Jin, give her the paper,” Hoseok lobbed the pad of paper at Seokjin’s shoulder, crossing his legs so he could tuck them under himself. Lip curling with annoyance at Hoseok, Seokjin leaned down to pluck the paper that had floated to the floor and offered it to Y/N, eyes wandering curiously over her laptop.
“Thank you, Seokjin,” Y/N murmured, careful not to touch his skin again. The last thing she needed was another round of flustering emotions coursing through her.
Skimming the list of orders written in three unique hands, Y/N hid a small smile behind her laptop at the items they had picked. Some of them were her favorites, others she hadn’t had the chance to try yet, and they had picked out a pretty decent spread. She would definitely sneak in a few more appetizers and a dessert as a treat, bringing up the ordering website and filling out the delivery instructions. It would take a little less than an hour for everything to arrive, and Y/N was feeling thirsty, so she set her laptop aside and got up from her chair to skip over to the bar cart by the TV.
“Do you guys drink?” Y/N wondered aloud, assessing the dwindling supply of liquor she had left. She had felt Jimin’s stare boring into her back as soon as she approached the bar cart, hoping that he’d be brave enough to speak up if he wanted a drink.
“What do you have?” Jumping at Hoseok’s voice beside her, like he had materialized out of thin air, she pressed a hand to her chest as he winked apologetically. Recovering, Y/N kneeled, sifting through the bottles of bitters and mixers.
“Hmm… I have some vodka, a little gin, and there’s some whiskey back here, too. I might have a few stray bottles of beer in the fridge, maybe a bottle of wine as well?” Y/N was repelled by the gin from her adventures the previous night, selecting the vodka and cranberry seltzer for herself. Hoseok was examining a highball glass, offering Y/N a hand getting up while she struggled with the two bottles. He took the handle of vodka, firmly grasping her hand and pulling her up.
“I’ll have what you’re having,” Hoseok’s warm hand slid from her’s, turning to look back at the couch. “Jimin, let me guess. Whiskey,” Jimin looked like he wanted to throw a pillow at the fox hybrid, cheeks red. Y/N assumed Hoseok had guessed correctly.
“I’ll get some ice,” Y/N began to move towards the kitchen before Hoseok grabbed her by the hand again. Whirling, Y/N wondered how long she could take Hoseok’s cheeky winking.
“Don’t worry, I’ll go get it,” Hoseok stopped her, swiftly disappearing down the hall. Stunned, she tried to shake off the way stars seemed to dance in his warm eyes whenever he caught her off guard.
He returned almost as quickly as he left, somehow locating the ice bucket she stashed away under the sink, and with the chilled bottle of pinot grigio tucked under his arm. Thanking him, she plunked ice into three small tumblers, pouring a generous amount of whiskey for Jimin and mixing the cocktail for herself and Hoseok. The latter wordlessly poured a nice glass of wine into a glass from the back of the cart, ambling over to Seokjin.
“For you, Jinnie,” Hoseok extended the glass to him, trying his best not to block Seokjin’s view of the movie. Hesitantly, he accepted the drink, shooting Hoseok another dirty look at the nickname.
“Don’t call me that. It’s horrendous,” Seokjin scolded, taking a sip and pushing Hoseok away with his foot. Ducking under the screen, Y/N delivered Jimin and Hoseok their drinks, Jimin gratefully taking the glass with another blinding smile.
After returning to her chair with her drink, Y/N sighed happily, keeping her laptop powered down. Her eyes were starting to cross from staring at it for too long, and she wanted to enjoy the most exciting part of the movie. Sipping her drink, she tapped out a quick email on her phone to the local salon, inquiring about stylists available for seven cuts next week, effectively accomplishing all she had set out to do that day.
Curling up, Y/N cradled her drink as she focused back on the movie. She stole a few glances at the three on the couch, light from the TV illuminating the perfect upturned slope of Hoseok’s nose and Seokjin’s dark lashes. They looked very cozy, blankets and pillows strewn about and cheeks rosy from their drinks.
Y/N couldn’t believe how well things were going so far. A tiny part of her was set on edge, preparing for something to go wrong – perhaps her saying something to offend or a fight between the hybrids themselves. Trying to push away thoughts that had little evidence to support their outcome, Y/N instead began to think about the four hybrids back at the shelter. Guilt still festered within her that they had to stay another night, but she would have felt worse if she had forced them all to come with her right off the bat. In fact, she counted herself lucky that three with her currently seemed to like her already, which was infinitely better than the forced toleration she thought she was going to receive. She was trying to find the words she would use later on to ask them about the others in the shelter, without ruining the comfortable ambience they had built up.
Onscreen was Harry facing off Professor Quirrell in the climax of the film, the only sounds coming from the dialogue and Hoseok graciously pouring Seokjin another glass of wine. Their dynamic was interesting; Seokjin seemed to regard Hoseok as an overactive little brother, while the fox hybrid definitely enjoyed pushing the jaguar’s buttons and catering to him at the same time. Jimin, at the other end of the couch, still looked lost trying to keep up with the movie plot, his wrist dangling over the armrest swirling whiskey around in his glass contemplatively. His butterscotch eyes were narrowed, a pointer finger tracing over his lower lip slowly while bright lights of the onscreen magic cast beautifully over him no matter the color.
Moments later the heavy brass clanging of the knocker affixed to the front door made Seokjin cringe out of his seat, panic settling over his smooth features and miraculously not spilling the glass of wine in his hand. Alarmed, Y/N stood, assessing the frightened flicker of his tail and the way his ears pressed flat against his skull, the other two alert from the source of the sound but watching Seokjin with concern.
“Seokjin, honey, that’s the Thai food,” Y/N said gently, a tentative hand on his upper arm as she offered him a small smile. He uttered a small oh, hastily putting his glass down, expression still scandalized. The sudden loud noise triggered a response within him that Y/N had seen before in animals she had treated, usually ones that came from zoos that had trick shows. Tabling the issue, and not wanting to make assumptions, Y/N gave his arm a final pat, heading to the front of the house to relieve the delivery man.
“H-hold on, I’ll help,” Seokjin hurried after her, shaking his head quickly as if to compose himself.
Feeling him at her heels, Y/N hummed a tune, swinging the heavy front door open. To her surprise, the delivery man had left the two large paper bags stuffed with containers, as well as a small plastic bag filled with freebies, right on the porch. Before she could move, Seokjin darted out to the porch, scooping up the two paper bags and blowing his overgrown wavy bangs out of his eyes. Giggling, Y/N thanked the universe he had recovered from his fright almost as quickly as it happened, waiting for her in the threshold as she scooped up the bag of sauces, chopsticks, and free mango sticky rice the restaurant owners generously added to her large order.
Holding the door open for her, Seokjin closed it after she hopped into the foyer with his hip. Back in the living room, she had him set the bags on the table, her mouth salivating as the scent of lemongrass filled the room. Unpacking the containers one by one, she admired the spread: pad thai, tom kha kai, pad see ew, a few containers of khao pad, two curries, three orders of spring rolls and the mango sticky rice. Y/N had no idea where to start, figuring they could all have bites of everything, and sat directly on the floor in front of the coffee table.
The second Harry Potter movie was already queued up, Y/N dialing the volume down while they ate so she could finally fish around for information about the remaining four at the shelter. Seokjin eased himself down next to Y/N, his tail curling around the foot of the coffee table. Jimin, in a similar fashion, dropped to the floor on the other side of Y/N, back to the movie. Grinning to herself, she concluded that he had given up on following the plot.
A strong hand placed her drink down in front of her, refilled and even containing a straw. Looming over her was Hoseok, enjoying his own beverage, humming in acknowledgement of Y/N’s surprised thank you. With him sitting across from her, she motioned for them to dig in, taking a nice sip of her drink while watching Jimin inspect a crispy spring roll. Hoseok made the cocktail taste leagues better than she ever could, somehow.
Munching on a bean sprout from the pad thai in front of her, Seokjin broke apart his wooden chopsticks and accepted the container khao pad Jimin passed to him. Minutes passed of the four exchanging boxes of food and little cups of sauce amicably, Hoseok going straight for the mango sticky rice before anything else.
“Guys, can I ask you a few questions about the others back at the shelter?” Y/N swiped a spring roll in the carton by Seokjin, trying to look as nonchalant as she could. Jimin made a noise as he chewed on a mouthful of rice, nodding while Hoseok surreptitiously shoveled a giant clump of noodles past his lips, ducking his head.
“Well, I only got to the shelter a little over a week ago. Seokjin and Hoseok were already there, and I think that Yoongi has been there the longest…” Jimin recalled, staring up at the ceiling in an attempt to remember the sequence of events. “I like Yoongi, he’s the only one who would actually talk to me, apart from Hoseok and Seokjin, of course,” he finished, taking a long sip of whiskey.
“Yoongi’s alright. Doesn’t get my jokes, though,” Hoseok added, pushing a sprig of cilantro around on a takeout lid.
“How about Taehyung?” Y/N pressed, setting her chopsticks down.
“He was brought in on the same day as Jeongguk– the elk– on Monday. He hasn’t spoken a word, even when he shifted a few times and I asked where he was from,” Jimin answered, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin. Y/N poured him a new glass of whiskey, hoping she wasn’t liquoring them up too much.
“That kid is strange. Like, more bizarre than Jin,” Hoseok stressed, face screwed up in over-dramatic seriousness. Seokjin threw a napkin in his face.
“Maybe he just doesn’t trust you, nasty fox,” Seokjin scolded, clearing away a polished off container of spring rolls into one of the paper bags, ignoring the genuinely insulted expression on Hoseok’s face.
“Alright, enough of that, you two,” Y/N warned, turning to Jimin for the more detailed answers to her questions. “The shopkeeper didn’t seem to like Taehyung very much. In fact, he didn’t want to be within ten feet of him, any idea why?”
“I’m not sure why. He did show up with some bloody clothes, though, maybe he got in a fight on the street. The humans couldn’t have seen the blood, I think it was probably still on the black jacket he was wearing, but we all could smell it. Human blood,” Jimin grimaced, leaning back on his palms. Seokjin shifted next to Y/N uncomfortably.
“Well, since we don’t know what happened, I wouldn’t race to any conclusions. For all we know, he could have been defending himself,” Y/N encouraged cheerily, Hoseok shaking his head while stabbing a piece of mango with his chopsticks.
“As for Jeongguk… what little he has said, well, I’m not about to repeat in front of a woman,” Jimin sighed, watching Seokjin continue to busy himself with cleaning up the coffee table. Y/N scoffed, not having the heart to tell him she swore like an 18th century sailor.
“Jeongguk is definitely an angry son of a bitch. He and Yoongi had a spat the day Jeongguk arrived,” Hoseok voiced, downing his drink and pulling his eyebrows together at the bitter vodka floating at the bottom of the glass. Jimin frowned at Hoseok’s cursing, but chose to hold his tongue.
“About?” Y/N wondered, helping Seokjin pick scraps off of the table.
“Who knows? I was in the bathroom when they started hissing at each other. Yoongi is pretty mild-tempered, so it must have been over something personal. Jeongguk makes a lot of assumptions, when he does open his mouth,” Hoseok waved his hand, Jimin nodding in agreement.
“I was pretty out of it, even then. Jeongguk said something about Yoongi being pampered, which is rich considering Yoongi looks like he hasn’t had a square meal in months,” Seokjin added surprisingly, a dark look crossing over his face. So, Jeongguk was not well liked.
Considering this, Y/N stirred her drink, savoring the last of Hoseok’s creation. She could handle bickering, but often got herself in trouble by being unable to back down from confronting bullies. The last thing she wanted was to get on the bad side of any of the hybrids, but she wouldn’t allow them to tear each other to pieces, verbally and physically – she foresaw some altercations between herself and the elk hybrid already. As for Taehyung, the little information she got wasn’t entirely helpful at the current moment, but certainly triggered her curiosity. She was set at ease by the hybrid’s insistence that Yoongi was amicable, at least.
“Then there’s Namjoon,” Seokjin reminded her quietly, eyeing Hoseok, who was suddenly immersed in the movie on the screen, ears angled to the television. Namjoon, the wolf hybrid, the one Y/N was most nervous to bring up. Noticing the way she clumsily dumped some bean sprouts from a takeout lid on the floor at the mention of the wolf hybrid’s name, Seokjin reached back, offering her a sip of his wine by bringing the glass close to her face. Humming, Y/N took the glass without thinking too much about it, the cool sweetness of the wine braving her.
“I don’t think he likes me,” Y/N lamented, giving Seokjin his glass back. Chuckling, Seokjin took the last sip of the wine, his thick lips wrapping around the same spot her’s had touched seconds before. Tips of her ears burning, she stole some mango from Hoseok while he studied the movie a little too hard.
“Don’t worry, he doesn’t like anybody,” Seokjin assured her, pouring yet more wine for himself.
“He was the last of us to get to the shelter. They brought him in Thursday morning, the day before you came in,” Jimin recounted, stretching his arms out languidly. “Brought him in as a wolf, which was pretty bizarre. The rest of us were shifted when we first came in, but Namjoon hasn’t shifted at all since he got to the shelter. Don’t even know what he looks like, honestly, I thought he was just an actual wolf, at first.”
Hoseok was stiff as a board, his usual lax posture replaced with a rigid spine and white knuckles gripping his empty glass. Y/N blindly reached for the vodka handle on the bar cart, wordlessly pouring a heavy handed shot into his glass across the table. Forcing a tight smile on his face, Hoseok basically poured the liquor down his throat, remaining silent.
“So, you guys know about as much as I do about him, then,” Y/N tried to keep the disappointment out of her tone.
“All I can say is, he definitely behaves like a wild wolf that I’ve seen at Yellowstone. Ornery and distrustful,” Jimin rubbed his eye, stifling a yawn. It had gotten pretty late, but Y/N was feeling wired, armed with a few new bits of information to ready her for the morning. Hoseok’s silence on the topic of Namjoon had also given her an inkling that the two had an instance of bad blood, but he was sufficiently clammed up and wouldn’t even make eye contact with her as they all began to return to their previous seats on the furniture.
Once the conversation surrounding the hybrids back in the shelter had ceased, Hoseok slowly unthawed, cracking a few more jokes at Seokjin’s expense as the jaguar hybrid’s eyes began to slip closed periodically even as he tried very hard to follow the rest of the movie. When the credits rolled, Hoseok carted the used drink glasses to the kitchen and washed them while Jimin arranged the bottles of booze back on the bar cart.
“What time do you want to head out in the morning?” Hoseok asked Y/N upon his return to the parlor, his flushed face sleepy and softened. Balancing a wobbling tower of leftovers, Y/N calculated travel time with traffic.
“I think seven will give us plenty of time to get there when the shelter opens, I’ll meet you by the front door,” she replied, wanting to push away the stray lock of hair over his eye.
“Sounds good. You should get some more sleep, now,” Hoseok steadied her for what seemed the thirtieth time that day, his solid grip on her waist preventing her from crashing into the coffee table. Sheepishly, she ducked her head, agreeing, and pondered if she should take up yoga again so she would stop wobbling all over the place like a lunatic.
“You too. Goodnight, Hoseok,” she smiled, Hoseok returning the sentiment, before disappearing in the direction of the basement. Jimin, in a similar manner, bade her a good night and thanked her for the delicious dinner, promising to write a list of necessities for the morning trip to the drugstore upon her request. His eyes were almost shut completely as he stumbled his way out of the parlor, taking a wrong turn down the hall before correcting himself in the opposite direction.
Seokjin stayed behind, carrying the garbage to the kitchen while Y/N stacked the leftovers in the fridge. Beside her, Seokjin slid the near-empty bottle of wine into the fridge, his hip accidentally bumping her into the shelf door. He was tipsy, apologizing profusely and giggling uncontrollably all the while. Y/N tossed him a bottle of water, which he caught against all odds, leaning back against the stove while he uncapped the bottle. She was still bothered by Hoseok’s sudden change in demeanor earlier, considering he was the one who kept things upbeat the whole day. Seokjin, under the influence and apparently eager to assist, was the perfect candidate to squeeze out a reason at the moment– his closeness with Hoseok the cherry on top.
“So… what was with Hoseok when you brought up Namjoon?” Y/N asked, only feeling partly guilty for taking advantage of Seokjin’s relaxed demeanor. Fiery eyes narrowing as he processed the question, Seokjin considered while peering into the foyer to ensure the basement door was closed. Slyly, he put a finger to his lips, motioning her closer with the same finger. Curiously, Y/N approached him as he stooped down to whisper to her, hand on on her shoulder to keep her put.
“Hoseok… he’s terrified of wolves.”
In the snow, Y/N could hardly see a foot in front of her as she ran, sharp shards of ice raining down from the sky paving her precarious path and stinging her eyes. Tears ran down her cheeks hotly, chest tight as she tried her best to dash away, away, but her legs were never fast enough. At least, not fast enough to make an escape, to outrun her pursuer, and he was hot on her heels. As she turned back to gauge his distance through the withered trees, a furious roar from inches away wracked a sob from deep within her. Her foot got caught in an exposed root as she desperately tried to get away, a sickening crunch and agonized scream ripped from her throat as she dropped like a rock. Her ankle bone had broken through the skin grotesquely, the tendons raw and exposed piercing through her flesh. As blood pooled around her trembling form, her vision grew blurry, hot breath by her neck as her pursuer closed in on her, saliva dripping from blood-tipped fangs. Tearfully, she knew this was the end, the creature snapping its jaw, tasting her blood as it soaked the snow around her. In her final moment, she wanted to look her executioner in the eye; the last glimpse of the golden sun held within them.
Gasping, Y/N shot up in bed, heart pounding as she pressed a shaky hand to her chest. With the other, she tore off her quilt and examined her right ankle, which was very much still intact. A horrifying nightmare to say the least, Y/N pressed both hands to the back of her cold-sweat soaked neck shakily. She hadn’t had a nightmare like that in years, catching her off guard completely. Blinking rapidly, Y/N pulled her quilt up around her shoulders, scanning the room to calm herself down. Returning to sleep was not an option after all of that, but luckily a drizzly dawn had begun to trickle through her curtains. It was a hell of a way to start the day, especially with her itinerary, but the silver lining was more time to prepare herself for the morning.
Showering off the nightmare seemed like her wisest choice, inhaling the calming scent of eucalyptus hanging from her showerhead as she boiled her skin under steamy water. For some reason, she could tangibly feel the blizzard from her dream sinking into her bones, her subconscious torturing her for late-night drinking two days in a row, presumably.
Drawing her curtains open to peek at the sky, inky clouds hovered above the treeline, light rain falling. Gingerly, she sat on her bed in her towel as she applied her lotion, hearing a soft thump from the basement. Her heart began to race again before she remembered Hoseok, who was probably getting ready himself, and cursed herself for being so jumpy. In the mirror over her dresser, dark circles and a pallor to her complexion reflected her jarring wake-up call. Mumbling, she rubbed some blush onto her cheeks and dotted concealer under her eyes to mask the evidence, throwing on a thin hooded sweater and jeans.
Yawning as she left her bedroom to find some sneakers to slip on, Y/N tried her best to tip-toe past Seokjin’s closed door, not wanting to disturb him at the early hour. Before she and Hoseok left, she wanted to leave out something for the other two hybrids to have for breakfast. Blindly, she searched the cabinets in the kitchen for anything worthwhile, coming up with a jar of granola. Setting it on the bar with dismay, she wrote a note using a sticky pad, noting that there were eggs and a stray tub of vanilla yogurt in the fridge they could help themselves to. Maybe they could make a parfait with the fruit left in the bowl next to the sink, or a few scrambled eggs with toast in the breadbox. She turned on the coffeemaker so they could have some hot coffee when they woke up, hoping it would make up for her and Hoseok making a Dunkin’ run without them.
Y/N heard the basement door gently close, quickly dashing into the hallway to meet the fox hybrid. Standing by the front door, Hoseok had a lock of hair sticking straight up on the back of his head, rubbing his eyes with his fists.
“Good morning,” Y/N whispered, peering down the hallway to make sure she hadn’t woken Jimin. Hoseok yawned, tail stiff as he stretched his arms behind his head sleepily.
“Morning, you were up early,” Hoseok remarked in a sleep-thickened voice, watching her skitter away from his searching eyes to grab her car keys off the peg by the door. Grimacing, Y/N grasped a couple of umbrellas, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Mm. I guess I’m still used to my morning routine from work,” Y/N answered softly, unlatching the front door and letting Hoseok out. He made a small noise of surprise on the porch, pointing at the ginormous box sitting on the stoop. That would be their clothes, right on time.
“Oh! I should probably bring this in, I don’t want it to get wet,” Y/N eyed the rain leaking in from the weathered slats of the porch roof. The box was cumbersome, Hoseok shaking his head and chuckling at her as she attempted to heave it over the stoop.
“Are you going to let me help you, or should I watch you struggle?” Snapping her head up, she shot Hoseok a look somewhere between disbelief and a scowl, his arms crossed while leaning against one of the porch beams. A smirk danced upon his lips, eyes teasingly squinted.
“Help. Please,” she hung her head in exasperation when she saw the fox hybrid wasn’t budging upon her silence.
Clearing his throat lightly, he was at her side in an instant, bending down to lift the box with her into the entrance of the house. A sharp grunt coming from the back of his throat, lean muscle strained the sleeves of his tee as he lowered the box on the floor, careful not to drop it on Y/N’s foot.
Gravel crunched wetly under Y/N’s sneakers trudging to her car, still reeling from Hoseok’s shameless provocation. It had been an embarrassingly long time since Y/N had interacted with men apart from Ben, Roy, and her father; she had lost her ability to engage in flirtatious banter, if that was what that was. Hoseok was heartbreakingly beautiful and clever as a whip, in comparison to her bumbling rambling and clumsiness Y/N was downright disappointed in herself. What happened to the girl in undergrad who threw caution to the wind and slipped sexy bartenders her number, who challenged herself to charm the subject of her desire into putty in her hands? Was she really that out of touch with her romantic skills? Rain soaked through her hood, dampening her mood further as she considered listening to a god-awful podcast for flirting tips in the future. The thought made her miserable.
She led Hoseok to her car, a powder blue 1986 Toyota Land Cruiser that belonged to her father, which had a rear window that would not open and a dented fender. Y/N preferred the look of older car models, more like works of art rather than gray lumps of chrome, and her dad’s old car was free. It made her feel like she was in an old storm chasing movie from the 80’s every time she went for a drive, which was a fun bonus. Unlocking the doors, Y/N slid into the cigarette scented leather seats, the worn material soft and comforting. Hoseok climbed in next to her, twisting around to check out the back seat, empty besides a stray serape blanket for her occasional picnics.
“Wonder who will come with us today… probably Yoongi. I don’t know what was with the pouting yesterday, he could have eaten something other than a ham sandwich Gerry threw at us twice a day,” Hoseok fastened his seatbelt, bringing an ankle up to cross over his knee.
“Are you serious? That’s all you got?” Appalled, Y/N turned the engine over, jaw hanging loose. She felt like running Gerry over with her Land Cruiser. “What the fuck is wrong with that guy? He ought to be shot.”
Hoseok made a startled noise in the back of his throat, studiously looking out the window as he appeared to be holding back a laugh with his ears turned down. Away from Jimin, she felt she could swear freely again without him clutching his pearls– though he’d hear them soon enough, she predicted. Starting down the road with rain pelting the windshield, the wipers dragged through the water sluggishly, needing a replacement.
“Well, I’m sure Jeongguk would agree with that sentiment. He’s missed a few sandwiches for telling Gerry to pound sand up his ass.”
“I’m liking Jeongguk a bit more now.”
“Oh yeah? Hopefully you won’t have to eat those words,” Hoseok raised an eyebrow playfully, Y/N rolling her eyes as she passed through the town center.
“I grew up with a lot of male cousins, a lot of them talked trash constantly. I can handle a brat,” Y/N responded, recalling her eldest male cousin’s jabs directed precisely on her insecurities. Her skin was thicker because of it, at least.
“Brat is a generous word for Jeongguk. Dick suits him just fine,” Hoseok mused, expression thoughtful.
“We’ll see, maybe he’ll have a fit or two and get it out of his system. I can hope, at least,” Y/N sighed, giving Jeongguk the benefit of the doubt until she spoke to him herself. Hoseok fell quiet, checking out a paperback book Y/N had left on the floor by his feet. She wasn’t sure what book it was, she prayed it wasn’t a trashy romance novel recommended to her by the internet.
The best part of the morning was the promise of not having to deal with Murphy and his precarious driving skills now that she was driving in with her own transportation. There was enough space for the remaining four hybrids to sit in the back of the car, thankfully. She’d rather chew glass than ask Gerry for any more favors; he’d be lucky if he had teeth by the time she finished business with him.
“Oh, this is from Jimin. He brought this down to me late last night,” Hoseok pulled a folded piece of paper from his sweatpants pocket, placing it in the cupholder. “All he wrote was ‘toothbrush and toothpaste’, humble cowboy.”
“We’ll stop by CVS on the way back for toiletries, I should get some more gauze for Seokjin. I’m sure you need some things as well, Hoseok,” Y/N grinned, noticing his ear twitching out of the corner of her eye. Chortling, Y/N shook her head, halting at a red light and gesturing to the glove box.“I have some CDs in there, wanna pick one?”
Curiously, Hoseok leafed through the plastic cases, the clacking sound of him rapidly searching through the albums making her wonder which ones she still had in her car. Hopefully not just Christmas and midwestern emo music. The light turned green, and she was forced to tear her eyes from Hoseok’s contemplative profile.
“Metallica, Dio, Black Sabbath… What year were you born, again?” Y/N winced, feeling like she was in high school band class again with Beatles snobs.
“Listen. Sometimes you just need to blow off steam screaming to War Pigs after a bad shift!” Snorting, Hoseok continued to sort through the CDs while Y/N drove on.
“I suppose, if you’re a father of three in the eighties,” Hoseok murmured, flipping over the back of an unlabeled mixed tape.
Moments later he slid a CD into the player, tucking the case under his leg. Trying to peek at what he picked out, she squeaked as his palm came up next to her face, blocking her view.
“Eyes on the road, darling, it’s a surprise!” Hoseok exclaimed, fingers punching buttons on the radio and jacking up the volume. He was lucky she didn’t drive off of the road with that remark, her face so hot she had to roll the window down, not caring if rain soaked her to her bones. Hoseok didn’t seem to notice her fluster as she leaned out of the window, nearly swerving off of the highway as a motorcycle zoomed by and startled her. The Beach Boys began to play sunnily through the old speakers, a smile spreading across her face as the rain ran down her cheeks, cooling the flesh.
“Good choice,” Y/N praised, unable to look him in the eye yet. Pretending to focus on navigating the highway into Boston, she hummed along to the opening track.
“Since summer’s almost over, it was only right.”
“Is summer your favorite?”
“Of course! Who doesn’t like more sun, longer days, and fruit?” Considering this, Y/N agreed with him, however partial she was to autumn.
“You have a point, you’d get along well with my dad for those reasons alone,” Y/N pulled off the ramp into Chinatown, only minutes away from their destination. She started to get antsy in her seat with anticipation. Hoseok drummed his fingers against the door to the tune of the music, apparently satisfied with the amount of teasing he doled out.
Before she knew it, they were parked in front of the shelter, Y/N nervously straightening out her sweater. Hoseok stared at the weathered shop sign with disgust, grip on one of the umbrellas tightening and untightening.
“Shall we?” Y/N cracked her door open, Hoseok giving her a tight nod before exiting the vehicle with the umbrella.
The shop was open already, the door propped open with a wooden wedge and Gerry stocking boxes of shoes into the cubbies by the window. Hoseok slowly entered the building behind her, sticking close to her proximity. A loud football game played on the tiny TV mounted to the wall, Gerry grumbling at it when he spotted Y/N and Hoseok.
“Ah! My new favorite customer,” Gerry exclaimed as they floundered near the register, palpable anxiety radiating from Hoseok. “I see youse brought one back, how’s he holdin’ up for you?” Gerry looked Hoseok up and down with a suspicious glint in his eye, Y/N grinding her teeth as she bit back a curse directed at the bastardly old man.
“He’s great, thank you,” Y/N managed.
“Go on and ‘ead to the back. Need me to call up Murph again?” Gerry asked eagerly, reaching for his phone on the desk. Y/N shook her head, jabbing her thumb towards her car parked outside.
“I have my own transport, from now on,” Y/N began towards the back room, carefully watching Hoseok drag his feet next to her. Gerry shrugged and remained in the front of the store, shouting at the TV.
The door to the four remaining hybrids was already open, keys to the cells handing tantalizingly from the knob. Hoseok ran a hand through his mahogany locks as he looked to the ceiling like he was praying for an angel’s protection, and Y/N was reminded of Seokjin’s words from the night before; Hoseok… he’s terrified of wolves. Pocketing the keys, Y/N pushed her way into the room, butterflies rattling around in her stomach for both herself and the fox hybrid.
“Hate to say I told you so after all your bitching, Jeongguk. She even came back with Hoseok alive,” a gravelly, unfamiliar voice chided to her left, Y/N seeking the owner of the voice straight away.
On the bed, a lithe figure leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, a long spotted tail flicking languidly like a satisfied cat. Probing hazel-green narrowed eyes watched her with an arched brow, a smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth. His ears were similarly spotted to his tail, blending into the long black tresses framing his face, and he was fully dressed in the outfit Y/N had picked out the day before.
“Yoongi, why would I be dead? Does she really look like a murderer to you?” Hoseok pulled his eyebrows together incredulously, cocking his head. Yoongi stood, nodding to his right.
“No, but he said you all were off to the chop shop,” Yoongi leaned against his cell door, veined hands coming through the bars to clasp together on the outside. Floored, Y/N stepped out from behind Hoseok, wanting to get a look at the elk hybrid and ask what about her read Freddy Kruger.
Sitting on the edge of his bed was Jeongguk, a man about the same age as Y/N. Most notably as far as his appearance went was the pair of elegant velvet antlers encircling his head like an esoteric crown amongst layered mixed chestnut hair. Heavily tattooed elbows leaning on his knees, Jeongguk was shaking his head at the floor, a deep scowl darkening his face. Backtracking on her confrontation, noticing the ring hugging his lower lip, Y/N inched closer to Hoseok, who peered down at her curiously.
“Hardly. What, do you think we’re living in a James Wan film, Jeongguk?” Hoseok’s hands landed on his hips, tutting at the elk hybrid. Finally snapping his head up to curl his nose into a snarl at Hoseok, Y/N caught the glint of a barbell threaded through the arch of Jeongguk’s left eyebrow.
“I’m not one to be as trusting of a fool as you, fox,” Jeongguk bit back, midnight eyes boring a hole into Hoseok’s face. His sight landed on Y/N, tugging on the hem of her sweater, uncomfortable with the clear distaste written all over his face while assessing her. “How am I supposed to know the motivations behind a girl so injudicious as to adopt seven male hybrids without even meeting them first?”
Blood draining from her face, Y/N took a step backwards at the venom dripping from his tone. So, her few hours conflict-free had ended, and she was in the line of fire. Stiffening, Hoseok cast a look back at her, offering her a soft half-smile; hopefully you won’t have to eat those words.
“Oh, just shut up, would you rather be running in the woods from some asshole in a polo shirt with an automatic rifle?” Yoongi groaned, running a wiry hand through his hair tiredly. Jeongguk cursed at Yoongi under his breath, then fell back into silence. Swallowing hard, Y/N tried to piece together the fragments of her courage, seeking out the other two hybrids behind her.
Watching the spectacle unfold quietly was Taehyung on the bed in his corner cell, laying on his back with his hands clasped on his stomach. His expression was placid as he twiddled his thumbs, cocking his head as his eyes caught Y/N’s. Roaming over her, he absently wet his lips with a sliver of tongue, his strange red-brown irises soulful and deep. Y/N recalled that he hadn’t spoken at all during his time spent at the shelter, so she was highly doubtful that he would chime in on Jeongguk’s verbal evaluation of her, though it looked like he had questions burning in his eyes.
“Yoongi, how long do you plan on staying here? Are you coming today?” Hoseok spoke up, tapping a foot on the concrete floor. Y/N nodded once in hello to Taehyung, who blinked at her stoically, blowing a piece of dark hair from his eyes.
“Well, she seems persistent; I thought for sure she’d be back by late afternoon yesterday to dump you all back here. Now that you’re here and breathing… I can’t choke down one more of those sandwiches,” Yoongi complained, although not confirming he was to join them outright.
Y/N stalked off to the far corner of the room, mustering up the confidence to say hello to Namjoon, equally as silent as Taehyung and out of view. Stopping short, she squeaked, noticing the neatly folded pile of clothes and shoe box still sitting outside of his cell, untouched. Disappointment sunk in her stomach, peering into Namjoon’s cell, where he was curled up in a ball, facing away from the center of the room. She knew he was awake, the exchanges between everyone not exactly whispers, so he was actively ignoring them. Still in his wolf form, Y/N wondered how long he could sustain himself, Seokjin’s confession that hybrids staying in their animal form for too long became uncomfortable popping up in her subconscious. Shuffling her feet, Y/N tried not to look crestfallen, returning to Hoseok’s side.
“So, will you come with us, Yoongi?” Y/N asked hopefully, pushing away the possibility that she may have to return to the shelter for several days to come. She wasn’t sure what she could do to win enough trust from Namjoon to at least look at her, let alone shift, but she was beginning to worry for him. If he had arrived on Thursday, he would have been living as a wolf for two whole days already, and possibly longer.
Yoongi considered for a moment, casting a look around his cell, before shrugging.
“Might as well,” he conceded, hands diving into his sweatpants pockets. Smiling as brightly as she could, she retrieved the keys to his cell from her own pocket, freeing him from the space, watching him stroll out lazily. With narrowed eyes, he looked down at her, kaleidoscope eyes taking in her likely poorly masked worry.
“You said it’s Y/N, right?” He confirmed, crossing his arms over his chest.
“That’s right,” she shifted her weight, the hollowness of his cheeks making her heart clench. Clearing her throat, she gazed past him, reading the expectant look on Jeongguk’s face.
“How about you, Jeongguk? I can see you’re not a fan of me, but at least you can get out of here,” she stated bravely, proud that she could keep her voice from wavering. An eyebrow arched with her words, Jeongguk rose to his feet, studying her head to toe once more.
“Fine,” was all he said, after a deep sigh. Tentatively, she unlocked his door as well, letting him push the iron bars towards her. He was even more intimidating inches away, muscular and imposing, making his way to the mouth of the door leading out. Hoseok patted her back awkwardly, as if to congratulate her on her bravery. She was extremely grateful to have him with her at that moment.
Taking a deep breath, Y/N shook off her nerves, making her way back to Taehyung, who was standing by his door with his graceful fingers wrapped around the bars.
“You too?” She exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. Blinking at her again, he gestured to the lock, which she hastily made short work of with the keys. Hoseok was snorting with laughter, saying something to Yoongi about making up a sign language to interact with the bear hybrid.
Taehyung quickly left his cell, expression relieved as he walked into the open area of the room, but kept his distance from everybody. Y/N could hardly see his rounded ears atop his head, hiding amongst a cloud of curly black hair, and if it weren’t for the day before seeing him in his other form she would have written him off as fully human immediately.
“Good luck with him,” Yoongi nodded towards Namjoon, looking pointedly at the stack of clothes outside of his cell. Gritting her teeth, she stood a little taller, preparing to give another speech to someone who couldn’t (and wouldn’t) respond. Fishing around in her pocket, she grasped a hold of her car keys, approaching Hoseok.
“Here, Hoseok. Do you mind starting up the car for me? I’ll be out in just a minute,” Y/N sighed, the fox hybrid examining her face with an ounce of concern. He took the keys from her hand without a word, and she offered Yoongi the umbrella she was holding. Yoongi stared at her incredulously, gaze shifting from her to Hoseok suspiciously, tucking the damp umbrella under his arm.
“The asshole who runs this dump has some of my stuff in a bag in his office,” Jeongguk spoke from the door suddenly, eyes trained on the door down the hall. “He’s got everything we all had when we got here.”
Astounded, Y/N curled her hands into fists, so ready to beat an old man it wasn’t even funny.
“Jesus Christ, that guy. That would have been good to know,” Y/N muttered. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll grab the bag before I meet you in the car,” Y/N promised, ignoring the yeah, right look on his face.
“Come on, let’s go,” Hoseok pushed Yoongi to the door, Jeongguk already disappearing from her sight. Taehyung followed suit slowly, gazing down at his shoes. The room suddenly filled with deafening silence, Y/N returned to Namjoon’s cell.
“Namjoon,” she started, the wolf’s ear turning towards her but otherwise remaining rooted to the corner of his space. “I’m going to have to keep coming back here until you agree to return with me. I don’t mind, but Seokjin told me that it can be uncomfortable to stay shifted for so long– that worries me. I can’t stand Gerry, this shelter is terrible, and I want to get you out of here, so I guess you’ll have to put up with me bothering you every morning until you decide to trust me a little.”
Namjoon lifted his head, turning it to lock eyes with Y/N, her breath caught in her throat. He was truly a beautiful wolf, dark with amber honey eyes, a small chunk of his left ear missing that she had not noticed before. He wasn’t growling at her, but his face was certainly guarded and calculating, which made her grow quite hot in the chilly cinderblock room.
“I’ll be back tomorrow morning, Namjoon,” Y/N sighed softly, accepting that today wasn’t his day. He watched her as she went, shutting the door to the room behind her with a solemn clang.
Returning to the storefront where Gerry was stuffing a Subway sandwich in his face, Y/N leaned against the register with her mouth screwed up to prevent expletives from falling out.
“They’re still there,” Gerry said through a mouthful of salami. “Pretty bold of youse to trust a fox with car keys.”
“Hoseok is trustworthy,” Y/N insisted harshly, slapping her hands on the tinny table. Startled, Gerry put his sandwich down. “Give me the bag of their belongings, please.”
The rusty wheels in Gerry’s brain turned slowly, appearing to not understand, before grumbling and retreating to his office. He came back with a large half-filled black garbage bag of items, thrusting it into her arms. Disgusted with the treatment of the hybrids, she all but spit on the floor, heading to the exit.
“Don’t forget the wolf, tomorrow. I’m tired of feeding ‘im,” Gerry called, jacking up the volume to his football game.
Aggravated, Y/N stomped through the rain to her car parked on the street, yanking the trunk open and sliding the bag gingerly next to her spare tire. Rain soaking her hair, the precipitation much heavier since she and Hoseok arrived, she finally indulged her desire and spat on the sidewalk by the entrance of the shelter. Rounding the front of the car, she climbed in, the heat turned on blast and The Beach Boys playing once again. Aware of Hoseok eyeing her in the passenger seat, she hastily buckled in, wet hair sticking to the back of her neck. In the rearview mirror, the backseat was crammed with the other three hybrids, Yoongi squished in the middle seat while Taehyung and Jeongguk flanked either side, both of them trying their best to glue themselves to the doors to get some space.
“I got your stuff, bastard put it all in a trash bag,” Y/N huffed, backing out of her space, twisting around to look out the back window. Jeongguk was rolling his eyes, chin resting in his palm, his white tee shirt soaked with rain. Yoongi, tucking a long strand of inky hair behind his ear, was attempting to warm himself up by sticking close to the vent blowing hot air into the cab.
“Let’s stop at Dunkin’ before we head to the drugstore,” Y/N pulled out into the street, anxious to get some food into Yoongi as soon as possible. Tension was palpable in the car, with Taehyung’s silence, and Yoongi and Jeongguk’s tangible strain between them. Again, she was grateful for Hoseok, with his sunny, encouraging smile and whistling to the CD playing softly.
One didn’t have to drive very far to find a Dunkin’ in Boston; they were practically on every block. The one she chose shared a parking lot with a Chinese restaurant and a drugstore, and she was attempting to find a spot closest to the doors. Once stopped, she rifled through the center console for her wallet, tucking it into her pocket with Jimin’s list and rubbing her eyes– itching for some caffeine.
“Okay, time for some breakfast,” Hoseok spoke suddenly, clapping his hands together. He headed out into the parking lot, followed by Taehyung pushing his way out of the car, arms over his head to shield his face from the rain. Watching Yoongi slink out of the backseat, Y/N scrambled to catch up with everyone, locking up the car after Jeongguk begrudgingly trudged behind her. She felt a little awkward with the atmosphere, Jeongguk clearly unimpressed and Taehyung stone-cold, and was hoping Hoseok could work his magic to lighten up the mood once in the coffee shop.
Confectioners sugar and toasty coffee perfumed the thick air inside of the Dunkin’, the scent bringing her back to pre-class breakfast runs. Jeongguk plopped down on a chair by the door, arms leaning on the coffee-stained table, watching Y/N suspiciously as she set her umbrella down next to him. Deciding to kill him with kindness, she flashed him her best shit-eating grin, joining Yoongi and Taehyung by the menu signs while Jeongguk gaped after her.
“What are we getting?” Y/N pondered, knowing that she was going to dive in on the hash browns. Additionally, she planned on getting a half dozen donuts for Jimin and Seokjin waiting at home. Yoongi hummed, arms coming around to hug his midsection.
“How’s the matcha latte?” Hoseok inquired from behind Y/N, his voice right next to her ear.
“Mmm. Not that great,” Y/N grimaced, Yoongi snickering next to her. After a few moments, she had Hoseok and Yoongi’s order, sending the fox hybrid over to Jeongguk to get his as well. Turning to Taehyung, who was smiling softly at a little kid eating munchkins with his parents nearby, Y/N said his name a couple of times before he realized she was trying to get his attention.
“What would you like?” Y/N asked, assuming he would point at the menu. His angular face turned thoughtful as he considered the menu once more, surprising Y/N by opening his mouth to speak.
“Sausage, egg and cheese on a croissant and a macchiato, please,” the deep timbre of his voice shook her to her core, nearly keeling over as soon as he spoke. Nodding dumbly, Taehyung gave her a curious glance and made his way to the table the others were sitting at.
Standing at the window, Y/N made the lengthy order, the cashier exasperated as she continued to add items to the tab. She handed Y/N the beverage tray of assorted hot and iced drinks, Y/N taking an indulgent sip of her sweet iced coffee and sighing happily. Making her way to the table, she dished out the drinks; a boring black coffee for grumpy Jeongguk, a fruity Coolatta for Hoseok, Yoongi’s iced americano, and Taehyung’s macchiato. She lowered herself down next to the latter, wondering if he’d begin to join in on conversation or lapse back into silence as he stirred his coffee.
“So, what exactly made you want to adopt seven hybrids?” Yoongi deadpanned after a moment, Y/N choking on her sip of coffee and pounding her chest to clear the liquid from her lungs. She wasn’t expecting to be asked a question like that in broad daylight, that soon. Hoseok cleared his throat, looking extremely uncomfortable with Yoongi’s directness, while both Jeongguk and Taehyung read bored and absorbed in their drinks.
“Uh… to be honest with you, I’ve been looking for roommates for about a year now. I haven’t had much luck; most of my friends have either moved states after college or started families of their own. Everyone else I’ve met from placing internet ads claims my house is either too old or ‘seems haunted’,” Y/N made air quote motions with her fingers, Hoseok snorting softly. “I thought of the off-chance of seeing you all in the shelter that night as a lucky find,” fiddling with her straw, Y/N cringed at her choice of words, unable to come up with anything else.
With narrowed eyes, Yoongi considered her explanation, appearing to not wholly believe it. Thankfully, before he could respond, the cashier was calling out her order number. Jumping up, a nonplussed sound coming from Taehyung at her clumsy movement tripping over the chair, Y/N made haste for the food. On her way back to the table, she caught Hoseok reaching across the table to smack Yoongi’s arm, teeth gritted.
Setting the box of donuts for Jimin and Seokjin down, Y/N began rattling off the various sandwiches in search of each respective owner, grateful for the temporary pause of difficult inquiries. Placing the bag of hash browns in the middle for everyone, Y/N got to work on unwrapping her sandwich.
“Why would people think your house is haunted?” Taehyung spoke again, Y/N halting her chewing and throwing him a sideways glance. In the harsh lighting of the room, the shades of carmine in his eyes became more pronounced. Yoongi and Hoseok exchanged a look of utter disbelief at the sound of Taehyung’s voice, a hashbrown hanging limply from the leopard hybrid’s mouth in shock.
“Christ, he speaks,” Jeongguk muttered through a mouthful of bacon. Ignoring him, Y/N set her sandwich down.
“It’s an old house, I’ve been restoring it but it still needs a fair bit of work. The yard is all overgrown, and it’s at the end of a dead-end street…” Y/N sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “Besides, it’s filled with my grandmother’s old antiques. You can get lost in some of the back hallways, and there’s the occasional odd noise with no known source every now and again. I suppose there’s a number of reasons people think it’s haunted,” she answered truthfully, Taehyung chewing lightly on his straw with pointed cuspids while she spoke.
“Shit. Maybe we are living in a James Wan film now,” Yoongi joked, wiping grease from his fingertips on a stray napkin. Hoseok frowned, his thunder stolen as Y/N giggled at Yoongi’s amused gummy smile. “Have you ever seen a ghost in the house?”
“Well, no, not recently at least,” Y/N’s eyes glazed over, memories from her childhood locked away in the darker recesses of her mind coming to the surface. “When I was a kid I thought I saw spirits, but that could have just been childish imagination.”
She was aware of Jeongguk staring at her now, suddenly interested in the turn of conversation. Still holding a grudge about the way he spoke about her in the shelter earlier, she refused to give him the satisfaction of looking embarrassed with his examination of her side profile.
“The bar I used to work in was haunted as hell,” Yoongi volunteered, sitting back in his chair. Curiosity piqued, Y/N leaned forward, wondering if she had ever been to that bar during a paranormal tour in college. As Yoongi looked out the window, she got a good look at him; there was something familiar about his face, but she doubted that she had ever met him before as the amount of bars in Boston was astronomical and the chances were slim. Even drunk, she believed that she would have remembered someone as strikingly unique looking as Yoongi.
“Ah, so you worked at a bar? Did you know Jimin was working as one of those National Park hybrid rangers? All the way in Montana, too. I keep trying to ask him how he ended up all the way here, but he won’t tell me,” Hoseok pouted, slurping his Coolatta noisily. Taehyung’s hand crept across the table comically slow to grab a bag of hash browns, eyes flickering between everyone as if he was stealing from somebody.
“That’s why he’s weird. He’s one of those guys,” Yoongi’s eyes were wide, Y/N missing the piece of information that caused understanding to wash over everybody else’s features.
“I’m sorry. What do you mean?” Furrowing her eyebrows, Y/N gathered up trash from Jeongguk, who was rolling his eyes at her again.
“Hm. You don’t know about the hybrid rangers, huh?” Yoongi tossed his sandwich wrapper in a high arc across the table, somehow perfectly landing in the trash can beside Hoseok. “Something like fifty years ago they passed a law that hybrids can be employed in National Parks with a bunch of perks. I’m sure you know hybrids cannot work as humans do, unless they sneak around and find under-the-table type situations– like me. At the moment, being a hybrid ranger is the only legal form of employment a hybrid can take up; and you’re pretty much born into it. My guess, Jimin’s family is all back in Montana, living in a cozy little cabin paid for by the U.S. government. Why he left, that’s beyond me. Most hybrids would kill to be one of those rangers,” Yoongi muttered the last part of this statement, eyes downcast.
In her limited research of hybrids over the past years thanks to Ben’s interest in adoption and at her father’s insistence of reading interesting articles, Y/N hadn’t come across the law Yoongi was referring to. When it came to the many government legislations regarding hybrids, it was unsurprising that Y/N had not a clue about a legal employment option for them. She did know about illegal hybrid labor in corners of the country, which often made front-page news, as well as laws stating unadopted hybrids roaming the street would be brought back to shelters once discovered.
“Hence why he’s ‘weird’. He wasn’t raised in labs like the rest of us likely were; he acts more human than hybrid,” Hoseok added helpfully. Y/N hadn’t really had the same thought process– her brief time with Jimin wasn’t enough to make an accurate judgment on his behavior compared to the other hybrids.
With the food finished by now, she noticed Jeongguk getting fidgety, she figured it was a good time as any to move onto their drugstore run. Hoseok gathered up all of the trash as Y/N stood, feeling sluggish after the greasy and sugary breakfast, scooping up the box of donuts for Seokjin and Jimin. Tossing her empty coffee cup, she felt Taehyung looming behind her like an apparition, shuffling his feet against the scuffed floor. Hoseok held the door open for everybody, Jeongguk muttering ‘kiss ass’ the whole way out into the rain and through the doors to the pharmacy.
The blinding lights of the pharmacy had spots appearing in Y/N’s vision after being in the grayness of the rainstorm, the medicinal smell of VapoRub making her feel slightly ill. Handing out baskets to the hybrids, she told them to get what they needed, Hoseok trailing after Yoongi down the shampoo aisle and Jeongguk disappearing to the back of the store where the vitamins were. Taehyung remained by her side, and shrugging, she pulled out Jimin’s scant list and started towards the direction of dental care.
Humming, she examined the toothpaste options, selecting the best one and plopping two in her basket. She would have to shop for Seokjin, as well– and upon further consideration, she added a third tube for Namjoon. Taehyung was quiet beside her once more, watching her pick out a pack of charcoal toothbrushes, hardly placing anything in his own basket he had set on a display of paper towels. Seeing his disinterest in filling up his basket, unlike Hoseok who zoomed by to pull a mouthwash off the shelf in a flash, Y/N sighed and turned to the bear hybrid with a fourth tube of toothpaste.
“Taehyung, is this toothpaste okay for you? I think it’s probably the best one, the all-natural brand tastes terrible,” Y/N waved the tube around, Taehyung now leaning against the display with his hands buried in his pockets.
“Yeah, that’s fine. Floss too?” Taehyung suddenly lurched forward on the balls of his feet, the movement graceful, hand skimming past her face and plucking a pack of floss off of the shelf. Dropping the item into her basket, Taehyung peered into it, before grabbing a wooden-handled toothbrush for himself and adding that as well. Blinking rapidly at the speed at which he could move at the drop of a hat, Y/N eyed his side profile with awe.
“Hmm. What else should we get? Jimin didn’t write as detailed of a list as I would’ve liked…” frowning, Y/N looked to Taehyung for advice; she wasn’t sure what sort of things the men would need right away.
“Body wash. Maybe some lotion, deodorant. Razors and shaving cream,” Taehyung spoke very slowly, ticking off items on his long fingertips as he rattled them off. Grateful for his input, Y/N nodded enthusiastically, waving him to follow as she weaved through the aisles to retrieve everything.
He pointed out the best brands for items such as the razors and shaving creams, which she would have been puzzled over for minutes pondering over the sheer selection. Balancing the basket on her hip, she filled it with several bottles of body wash from the top shelf, nearly dropping it while trying to juggle the box of donuts she was still holding. Taehyung gently took the basket from her, slinging it over his forearm, and reached the last bottle she couldn’t grasp.
“Thanks, it’s not too heavy?” Y/N gestured towards the basket, feeling flustered all over again under Taehyung’s stoic stare. He shook his head, one of his ears twitching as a loud peal of Hoseok’s laughter came from the next aisle over. Grinning at the sound, Y/N set off to find him, hoping that everyone had gotten what they needed.
Yoongi was deliberating between two different hair brushes with Hoseok, who was insisting on a boar-bristle.
“Yeah, I get what you’re saying about oil distribution or whatever, Foxy, but the plastic brush is literally half the price. I just need it to work,” Yoongi was insisting, plopping a little plastic brush into his half-filled basket.
“Hi, guys! How’re you making out?” Y/N asked, Hoseok releasing the brush hanging on a hook he was checking out upon hearing her voice.
“I think I’ve got everything I need, just trying to help Yoongi out with proper hair care,” Hoseok squinted at Yoongi’s long hair with distaste.
“More like trying to lord over my choices,” Yoongi murmured, organizing the things in his basket gingerly.
“Where’s Jeongguk?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, not having seen the elk hybrid since they arrived. Standing on her tiptoes, she tried to look over the shelves for any sign of antlers peeking out from an aisle.
“By the counter already,” Yoongi pointed, expression turning disdainful.
At the register, the three hybrids bumbling after her, Y/N felt relief wash over her when she spotted Jeongguk with his basket already up on the counter. While she didn’t believe that he truly would have ditched them, she was still nervous around him and the thought did cross her mind at least fleetingly. In his basket was the bare minimum, a bottle of saline like Y/N used for her new cartilage piercing, allergy tablets, a stick of deodorant, a package of BIC lighters. He was staring at the shelf behind the register with longing, Y/N following his gaze curiously as the teenage boy at the register began to ring all of the items through.
“What brand?” Y/N asked slyly, eyes roaming over the shelf of cigarette cartons. Stiffening, Jeongguk shot a sideways look down at her in surprise.
“Marlboro. Reds,” he answered, biting down on the ring hugging his lip.
“Three packs of the reds, please,” Y/N asked the young boy, who dropped them into a plastic bag and handed it to Jeongguk. As soon as Y/N stuck her credit card into the reader for everything, Jeongguk was gone, his silhouette visible through the window as he broke into one of the packs and his new lighters. Y/N would have loved to enjoy a cigarette at that moment, but wouldn’t dare ask for one from Jeongguk after his almost frantic dash to the sidewalk.
Taehyung hefted six bags onto his arms himself, leaving only two for Yoongi and Hoseok to grab before Y/N could reach for one. She followed after them heading to the exit, doing her best to shield the donut box from the rain with her arms. Cigarette smoke from Jeongguk wafted in a cloud as soon as she got out onto the sidewalk, rain soaking his hair and face as he cupped his hands to light what she presumed to be his second.
“You guys wait here, I’ll pull the car around,” Y/N shouted over a clap of thunder, Hoseok catching her by the hem of her sweater before she could dash out into the parking lot. Puzzled, she stared at him with wide eyes, him slotting one of the open umbrellas under her arm to keep her dry. Throwing him an appreciative, embarrassed smile, she stepped directly into an ankle-deep puddle, getting away as quickly as possible before he could laugh at her.
Stashing the donuts away, Y/N pulled up to the curb to the hybrids waiting under the awning of the Chinese restaurant. This time, before Hoseok could reach the passenger door, Taehyung beat him to the punch and clambered in next to Y/N, Hoseok whining behind him. With a tight-lipped smile, Taehyung shut the door in his face, brushing droplets of rain off his arms and stowing the bags he was carrying by his feet.
“Fucker,” Hoseok muttered acidically, sliding into the back seat next to Yoongi. Trying not to look amused at Hoseok’s bitterness, Y/N peered into the backseat through the rearview mirror, making sure everyone was present. Jeongguk looked significantly more relaxed than he had earlier in the morning, however, a thin veil of annoyance still blanketed his features as he fumbled with one of the packs of cigarettes in his hand.
“Alright, let’s head home,” Y/N murmured, mostly to herself, the rain getting heavier and more difficult to navigate through.
“Your wipers need a change,” Taehyung commented, leaning forward to squint at the way they uselessly flung small amounts of water off of the windshield. “I know how to do that,” he added.
“Really? I’d need to get the parts, though,” Y/N raised her eyebrows, wondering how she would find wipers for a car from 1986.
“You’ll find them in a junkyard, if there’s one around here,” Taehyung informed her, as if he had read her mind. Tapping her fingers against the steering wheel, she made a mental note to call up the junkyard in her town later on to save herself a trip if they didn’t have the wipers she needed.
Traffic was slow as she tried her best to see out of the windshield, rolling down her window to poke her head out occasionally to get a better view of the road. It seemed others on the road were taking precautions in the downpour by crawling on the highway, Y/N impatiently squirming in her seat. She started to feel bad for leaving Jimin and Seokjin alone, especially without many groceries in the house.
Y/N desperately needed to get to the supermarket; she had no idea what to make for lunch, let alone dinner. With the weather, the last thing Y/N wanted to do was lug paper bags back and forth to her car, but they couldn’t live on takeout forever– she thought for some ridiculous reason the hybrids would think she was incapable of feeding herself, and therefore themselves. Maybe one more night of pizza delivery before she could stock up wouldn’t be the worst, but it was the less than ideal option for her.
By the time they had made it about halfway home, Y/N’s phone began to ring, making her curse under her breath as she blindly grasped for it in the cupholder.
“Hello?” She breathlessly answered, not able to check the caller ID due to her focus on the road.
“Honey, it’s me!” Her mother replied, urgency lacing her tone. Y/N could hear her tinkering with what sounded like metal bowls.
“Hey mom, what’s up?” Y/N brightened her tone, switching to a slower lane to get off the highway shortly.
“I’m just letting you know, I’m coming over to the house in an hour or so. I went to the farmer’s market this morning to buy you some groceries and I packed up some meals for your freezer,” her mother said breathlessly, the snapping sound of plastic tupperware coming through the receiver.
“What!?” Y/N squawked, alarmed that she’d have to introduce her to the hybrids so soon. Running an anxious hand through her hair, she felt Taehyung jump next to her at her outburst, Yoongi and Hoseok making noises of confusion.
“I knew you weren’t going to make it to the store in the next few days. I could hear it in your voice. Honey, you can’t live on calzones, much less expect your new friends to eat takeaway every night,” her mother explained calmly, Y/N’s face becoming hot as she realized the hybrids could probably hear every word her mother was saying.
“A little head’s up would have been nice,” Y/N spit through her teeth, humiliated. Her mother laughed, the sound mirthful and easy.
“That’s what this is! Anyways, I’ll see you soon. I’ll even send you a message before we walk over.”
“We?” Y/N squeaked, mortification flooding into her even more quickly by now.
“Honey, are you becoming hard of hearing like your father? He’s coming with me, I need some help carrying the containers of bean burgers,” her mother sighed, tutting at her.
“Uh. Um, okay… I-I need to focus on driving, here, please text me before you leave,” Y/N rushed, on a new mission to get home as quickly as possible. Her mother said goodbye, promptly hanging up, Y/N stiffly placing her phone back in the cupholder.
“What was that all about?” Hoseok asked from the back seat, though she knew he could hear every word of the conversation through the phone. Grimacing, Y/N sped up the car, tapping her left foot against the carpeted car floor impatiently.
“Looks like you’ll all get to meet my parents today.”
Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe @ddaeng-angmoh @trtlthts @exfolitae @kalala22 @xiusmarshmallow @bangtans-momma @zae007live @paigetj
Please do not repost or translate my work. Thank you!
#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#bts ot7 x reader#hybrid au#bts ot7 x y/n#bts hybrid au#bts fic#bts au#bts hybrid x reader#bts hybrid fanfic#namjoon fanfic#seokjin fanfic#yoongi fanfic#hoseok fanfic#jimin fanfic#taehyung fanfic#jungkook fanfic
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puppy love, joel miller
summary: IN WHICH — when joel is upset, you do anything and everything in your power to cheer him up. this means showing him your new guitar skills, while singing one of his favourite songs to him.
warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson!joel, implied relationship, gender!neutral reader, sub!joel, lovey dovey joel and reader, ellie being a little shit once again, swearing, literally all fluff because i can, brief mention of death/killing (very very brief! shows up like two times), bad descs of guitar playing since i haven't played in like 10 years LOL, lmk if i missed anything!
wordcount: 2.3k
a/n: my second fic!!!!! i sort of love this one?? also tysm for the love on my first! looking for moots too! hmu if you wanna <3 make sure to reblog, like, and comment on this plz and thank u! if u have any requests for a fic lmk (dms r open for it!) more to come soon xoxo
—
God only knew what time it was. You had an infuriating day at work, training all new people on how to successfully patrol Jackson's surrounding areas, and how to not- well, die. This was always your least favourite time of year, to say the least. All the "fresh meat" had been selected to be potential patrolers, and they had to go through extensive training to make sure they were one hundred percent qualified and committed to the role.
Both you and Joel were practically put into this role by Maria (Joel's sister-in-law), not by force, but more of a "you would be doing the entire Jackson community a whole favour if you did this" sort of thing - guilt, most would say. Maria had even tried to get Ellie to help train people, but Joel almost killed Maria by his glare when she brought it up to the two of you.
Even though you hated this role in the community, you think Joel liked it. He had a bit too much fun getting to put kids in check, and humble them big time. At least it was only for a few months, you had kept reminding yourself. The few months were from early June until late September, though - the hottest months of the year. The before dawn wake up calls, and after dusk ends would only last for another month, since it was sometime in the middle of August right now.
After getting home extremely late, around an hour or two ago, you had already taken a shower and changed into more comfortable clothes before you went and sat on your back porch. Even though you didn't want to be outside anymore than you had to right now, Ellie had one of her friends over and wanted privacy. You love the kid, so you gave her the privacy (not much privacy, only hanging out in the living room of your home).
You were able to tell Joel was finished with his shower when you heard high-pitched and muffled screams coming from inside the house behind you. Just as you went to turn your head around to see what exactly the commotion he was causing inside was, the familiar figure of Joel Miller left the glass door, with the door slamming shut behind him. "Everything alright in there, cowboy?" You hummed to him as the nickname rolled off your tongue, scooching over on the step you were seated on to give the man some room to sit.
"Fucking Christ," He started as he took a seat next to you, "they were paintin' their nails, or somethin'. Said I wasn't allowed anywhere near 'em in that room, or they'd be off with me." Joel had grunted once he was completely lowered on this step, his bones weren't as good as they used to he would say.
This earned a snort from you, "No way- Ellie's paintin' her nails? Your girl's really growin' up, Joel." You couldn't believe she was doing this, to be honest. Ellie had stated to both you and Joel that she was not girly whatsoever, and would rather turn into a clicker than wear a dress or do her makeup. After you had said this to Joel, he looked to be upset. He didn't want Ellie growing up, his girl growing up. "Joking, joking."
He took his eyes off of you, and moved them forward. "Nah, you're right," Joel had sighed, "she won't need me soon. Soon she'll-" He had trailed off, quiet now. Fuck- why did you bring this up, you had thought to yourself. You could only place your hand on Joel's thigh. "She'll always need you, Joel. Shit, she'd be death without ya'. Lighten up a bit baby, she ain't going anywhere."
Joel knew it was true, he was just having a really emotional moment right now, it was most likely from being up since five in the morning. "Dunno 'bout that." He had only muttered, placing his hand over yours. You tsked, putting some pressure on his thigh as you got up in an awkward fashion. "Where are ya'-"
"I have an idea, hold on." You had cut him off, making your way back inside. You were engulfed by the sounds of laughter as soon as you stepped foot through the patio door. You were silent about it, not wanting to bother Ellie or her friend. You had silently moved to the house's spare room, where the three of you put anything and everything. You had grabbed what you were looking for almost instantly (it had a distinct shape) and made your way back outside.
Joel turned his head once you had stepped outside again, his eyes moving down to what you had in hand, then gaining eye contact. "Is that my-" he couldn't even finish his sentence. You grinned as you pulled the lawn chair over, placing the case on the floor and unlatching the sides. You had picked up the piece of polished wood and string and placed the curved part on top of your knee.
"Okay so," You had started as Joel turned around to give you his full attention. He looked handsome like this- more than handsome, actually. The way the dull light from inside of your home highlighted his face almost perfectly- ugh, you couldn't get enough of it. "From all of the, sort of, free time I have had in the last few months, I decided to sort of, really badly, learn a few songs?" It came out more of a question than it did a statement, and Joel took notice of this with only a laugh in return.
"Anything ya' play'll be gorgeous, baby." Joel could only look at you in complete awe; if he didn't love you one hundred percent before, he sure as fuck did now. Instead of sitting down, Joel stood up and was now leaning against the wooden beam behind him. He towered over you, only inches away- this got you on even more of an edge.
"Okay, please don't kill me if I don't get the chords right- I don't think I read the notes properly." You awkwardly chuckle as you avoid eye contact with Joel at the current second. Joel knows a guitar from the inside-out, but even if you messed up, he would not care at all. You took the time to learn his favourite instrument, and this only put him in an ecstatic mood.
"Pick a number one through three." You told him as you move your left hand up the neck, and your right arm drooped over the body. "Three." He replied almost too fast, he was just so eager to hear you play.
You brought your fingers through the strings before you started, making sure it was in tune. You glance up towards Joel, "It's in tune, right?" You ask him. A chuckle escapes his lips as he nods, "Don't worry baby, it is."
You (unfortunately) tore your eyes apart from Joel's as you focus on both your left and right hands now. Multitasking was hard for you before this, so you struggled a bit to play. You inhale slowly, placing your fingers on the top three strings on the fingerboard. You strum from both left and right, meeting to the middle string as the first chord.
"And they called it puppy love," your voice was quiet and sounded more hoarse than relaxed, which you mentally slapped yourself for. Before hounding yourself about it even more, you had to focus on changing the chords another four times as you repeated the strumming rhythm.
"Oh, I guess they'll never know," There wasn't any moving, or talking, or breathing (from the sound of it) from Joel. He was just- mesmerized, mesmerized by what you had been doing with your fingers, with your voice, with everything. If the world hadn't gone to shit, you most definitely would've had a big breakout as an up-and-coming music star, he had thought to himself.
"How a young heart, how it really feels, and why I love him so," You had changed the lyrics, and Joel noticed - you changed "her" to "him". Honestly, Joel only noticed because it was you singing it (and he loved you deeply), and that whenever he would spend time with his grandfather when he was little, this song was played a million times. Had he ever told you about his love for this song, or was it just a coincidence?
"And they called it puppy love," You repeated yourself, emotion starting to seep through your voice. "Just because we're seventeen," If you weren't so lost in your train of thought, of remembering where to put your fingers for the next chord, and the correct strumming pattern, and the lyrics, you would've noticed Ellie and her friend silently sneak out onto the porch.
"Tell them all, it isn't fair. To take away my only dream," You had paused strumming for a single second, it sounded like a dramatic pause in Joel's eyes. You had just completely lost your breath from a combination of singing and nerves. After the (painfully long, you thought) second was over, you started once again.
"I cry each night, my tears for you. My tears are all in vain," The chord pattern you had going changed for the last time, and your strums started to sound quiet, your voice dying out while all of this happened. Joel took notice of this, standing up completely now (from leaning against the wooden beam behind). The two girls behind you were still so silent, almost just as mesmerized with you as Joel was.
"Oh, I'll hope and pray, that maybe someday," You inhale as your thumb starts to brush down from the highest string to the lowest string, "You'll be back in my arms once again." A loud exhale falls through your mouth, followed by the two girls bursting out with clapping and compliments. This does nothing short than scaring the absolute fuck out of you, causing the guitar to slip out of your grip.
Luckily, with Joel being completely focused on you, he had came to the rescue and snatched the guitar before it had fell on the ground. You shoot him an apologetic look before turning around to the two girls, he just looks at you with understanding eyes. "You guys almost made me drop the fuckin' thing- how long were you there for?" You question them, eyeing between the two. Their clapping hands were now silent and playing with their thumbs, almost nervous from you.
"Ya' know what, it doesn't matter. Inside- go, it's bedtime." You had scolded the two, as if you were their mother. Ellie's friend had opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by Ellie gripping her hand and yanking her back inside. You start to turn back to face Joel, after snapping. "Fuck, we can never have a minute of fuckin' sile-".
He cut you off by smashing his lips into yours. He was acting as if though he was touch deprived, if he hadn't seen you for years. You two just move in sync for what feels like forever (not that you're complaining, though), before you pull away.
Before you have the chance to say anything, Joel brings you to your feet and sets the guitar down on your previous seat, embracing you in a tight hug. You can feel his rough facial hair on the exposed parts of your neck as he exhales, you definitely don't mind. "I needed that more than anythin', darlin'." He admits to you.
"Anythin' for my favourite person." You remind him, bringing your hand to the back of his head. It was true, you would do anything for this man. You would steal for him, kill for him, anything he wanted.
The sun was threatening to peak through the moonlit skies, you knew you two had to be up and about soon enough, but that didn't stop you. You were laying in bed together, tangled between each other's arms. The covers were kicked off your shared bed, and a small breeze cruising the room every so often from the open windows.
"I think it's true." You had broken the comfortable silence that filled the room. Joel didn't move from his position (half of his body on you), just hummed with his eyes staying shut. "What is, baby?"
"The song- fuck, I don't want to sound cheesy or nothin'." You admit, before continuing, "You just, ya' know, I love you's all." You send a small squeeze through Joel's hand, that vibrates his entire body. This results in him dropping your hand and lifting it to wrap around your chest. "Nothin' cheesy 'bout that." His voice was even more hoarse than when you had lost your fears of singing in front of someone, in front of Joel. You now went silent, just loving his embrace.
"Darlin'?" He now broke the silence after a minute or two, eyes still shut and not moving whatsoever. You gave a hum in response, just like he did earlier. "Ya' said to pick a number between three before ya' played earlier, were the other options real?" This was your favourite, vulnerable Joel.
"It was, and before you ask-" you pause, bringing your hand to the back of his head, just like earlier. You ran your fingers through his restless curls. "-I'll play the rest for ya'. Promise." Joel had obviously liked this answer, as he responded with a sloppy kiss to your collarbone.
You would learn every lyric in the world, every chord in the world, every strum in the world, just for Joel to be happy. You didn't want anything more in this world than for him to be happy. If he was happy, so were you.
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puppy love, paul anka
#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel tlou#tlou#tlou2#ellie williams#ellie tlou#ell#ellie the last of us#joel the last of us#joel miller the last of us#ellie williams the last of us#joel x you#joel x reader#x reader#gn reader#chasedbyatlantic#joel#miller#the last of us
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Fics That I Won't Write For Wille's Month But You Can If You Want To
Feel free to use any of these ideas, which vary in quality. 🤭 Maybe there's a good one? Who knows!
Sandwich
Wilhelm declares it to be the Month of Sandwiches: he makes a different kind of sandwich for Simon every day for a month and Simon rates them.
Summer
Wilhelm has an amazing summer with Simon but it's coming to an end. He says, “I wish this summer would never end,” and then when he wakes up the next day, it's the same day again, and again, etc, groundhog day style
Literature
Wilhelm studies literature in university and ends up teaching it back at Hillerska.
Revolution
The monarchy is abolished. Twenty years later, Wilhelm is interviewed about it.
Cooking/Baking
Wilhelm goes to culinary school with Felice and becomes a pastry chef in her restaurant.
Video games
AU where Wilhelm is a virtual reality video game character that Simon falls in love with (or the other way around)
Erik
Wilhelm finds Erik's letter to his future self.
Wedding/Engagement
5 times Wilhelm and Simon are guests at weddings and one time they have their own kind of wedding.
Riding
5 times Simon watches Wilhelm ride a horse and one time Wilhelm rides Simon.
Secret
Wilhelm nervously tells Simon about a secret fantasy he has. Simon is very much into it.
Future
Future Wilmon AU. Year 2222. Wilmon in space.
Social media
Maddie sends Wilhelm a link to a tumblr blog about the Swedish royal family. He has many thoughts and feelings about it.
Lake
Late in the summer, Wilhelm and Simon return to Hillerska to go swimming again in the lake.
Mental health
Adult Wilhelm starts a foundation to support youth mental health initiatives.
Fashion/style
Missing moment: the origins of The Pink Sweater and The Studded Jacket
Friends
Felice is going through a very tough time and good friend Wilhelm is there to support her.
Joy
Wilhelm is a new father realizing all the ways his son's childhood will be very different from his own.
Soulmates
Simon asks Wilhelm, “Do you believe in soulmates?”
Frogs
Wilmon have a baby and Wilhelm can't help but buy every tiny frog-themed item of clothing he can find. Frog onesies, frog booties, frog hats, etc.
Movie
Adult Wilhelm learns that someone wants to make a movie about his life.
Family
The first conversation Wilhelm has with his parents after driving away.
Party
Felice, Simon, and Sara organize a belated birthday party for Wilhelm at the karaoke place.
Freedom
Wilhelm and Simon go on a late night summer bike ride around Bjärstad.
Vacation/holiday
Wilhelm tries to learn Spanish in preparation for a trip to Venezuela with the Erikssons.
Hands
Simon watches Wilhelm do things with his hands.
Date
Wilhelm plans the perfect date but everything goes wrong.
Dream
AU where Wilhelm's dreams keep coming true.
Birthday
Missing moment: What happens to the gifts that Wilhelm flung about on his birthday?
Music
It's the 90s and Wilmon have been forced apart and now go to different schools, but they have a secret long distance relationship via letters and mix tapes.
Fantasy/fairytale
Simon has been turned into a frog by the evil wizard August and Wilhelm goes on a long and dangerous quest to lift the curse. He talks to Simon the whole time and Simon ribbits back.
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As the SMP comes to an end in just under a month, I'd like to say a few words of appreciation to you all.
To start, the Cast. You all need a lot more credit than you get. With all of the commands you do behind the scenes of lore, and all the time and effort to make cutscenes, art or cosplay, or even in minecraft, we all thank you for such a wonderful job you do. I started watching Fable SMP during August last year (Sherbert's last sherbathon) and have loved it since the first episode we watched there. Slowly, I managed to get really into it and then the brainrot hit. Though I thank you for it. Without this SMP I don't think I could ever be where I am now. You guys have created a wonderful story that helped me realise things about myself, and you all have created a safe and all-including space here on the discord server. Without that, I wouldn't be as motivated to write, or as confident to talk in VC and even sometimes show my face. Thank you.
And to you, Chatters. Thank you for all you've done to support and uplift not just me, but everyone in this community, to make a welcoming space for new people and assist them in how to quickly catch up to lore in this next month before the finale. As someone who was very nervous first joining this community and to talk on these online platforms, you have allowed me to gain comfortability and grow as a person, fanfic writer who wrote that one prison duo fic, and occasional artist. You also helped me grow comfortable with talking and sometimes even showing my face in VC, especially after I had some not-great experiences in other servers.
So in conclusion, the one thing I have to say is Thank you. <3
yes i was being sappy today, i love you guys <3
#fable smp#fsmp#fablesmpblr#sappy post#sappy hours#appreciation post#thank you so much you guys#i love you all#probably the best brainrot ive had before
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formaldehyde | SupposedToBeWriting
Happy Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day! On August 21, the fan community comes together to celebrate fanfiction writers. I took part in the @renegadepublishing Discord server’s FFWAD event, where we bound one (or more!) books for writers and sent it to them by the 21st. This year, I decided to bind @organchordsandlightning‘s fic formaldehyde!
This bind is especially unique for me because it contains over a hundred combined pieces of artwork from two artists--@genderfluid-druid and @captaincravatthecapricious. I’m still in the process of making copies for them, but they made some absolutely fantastic art that’s spread throughout the book as well as included in a glossy center spread and featured on the cover!
More pictures and information below the cut!
The biggest challenge with this bind was making sure that all the artwork printed correctly. I ended up having to fiddle a lot with what I printed in black and white and what I printed in color, as well as the brightness and contrast settings for some of the artwork. I also got to do some fun stuff with chapter 10, which is a series of journal entries, notes, memos, and other epistolary-esque additions to the fic.
I also started experimenting with refilling my own ink cartridges while printing this, and I think I'm really happy with it! Ink is so incredibly expensive, and though it's a bit of a messy process that might have some hiccups along the way, getting an $11 pack of ink is dramatically cheaper than buying new cartridges and it will allow me to print more ink-heavy stuff like this in the future without worrying about my budget!
I leaned heavily into the Prohibition themes in this fic and went with a whiskey tumbler table of contents and alcohol barrel title page. I also included the ritual sacrifice elements in the chapter headers, which have the knife that John carries around for a good portion of the fic.
I had a lot of fun with this bind, and I'm hoping to finish up the last three copies of it within the next month or so!
(As a bonus, here's the book on the author's shelf!!!)
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APPLE CIDER (bedroom sessions)
Sparkling apple cider. Once a sweet, refreshing drink you could easily enjoy. Now everytime you’re reminded of that cursed drink all you get is the sour memories that came with it. One memory including the fallout of yours and (now ex) boyfriend, Jay's relationship. But, it just so happens Jay is determined to win your heart back once again. Will he be able to restore the sweet taste? Or will apple cider ruin your life once again?
read part one here!
genre : exes to lovers, written fic, angst, fluff, dual pov (but more y/n, highschool au
featuring : enhypen, chaewon of lsfm, kwon eunbi, ocs : hyun-woo, mrs. lim
warnings : swearing (lots), ignorant parents (only mentioned), crying, food, parties, groveling??? idk, reader has the same bad habits, blood/injuries
wc : 7k
pairing : jay x fem!reader
YENQA : i worked really hard on this and im really happy with the outcome!! i hope you guys like it as much as i do :) also!! everyone thank @yeokii and @redm4ri for proof reading this!!
000 FIRST HEARTBREAK (prologue)
It was junior year when you first met him. Just last year (2022), Hyun-woo walked up to you in the library with a charming but sweet smile, he sat next to you and introduced himself. At first you were skeptical, unsure of your new friendship. But his stupid cute smile and his enchanting eyes lured you right in.
That night you had left with his number and a smile on your face.
The next few weeks he barely ever talked to you, sufficing with a small wave in the hallways or small talk about classwork. But when spring was just around the corner, that had immediately changed.
Hundreds of messages came through in the span of two months. You two would talk for hours and hours on end about anything really. His sweet smile would stay throughout all those facetimes, sometimes you wondered if his face would fall off if he smiled any longer.
After months of talking, you figured out you were hopelessly falling for him. And there was no way out. But you also figured he must’ve liked you back—I mean those hundreds of calls weren’t for nothing were they?
At first, they weren’t. He eventually asked you out in May and you dated happily for three months.
Since he was your first you didn’t know how a relationship should work, or how one should act in it. You thought him ghosting you for weeks on end was normal, and that everyone went through it. Even if it wasn’t normal, he came back to you, showering you in gifts such as stuffed animals and gold jewelry. So, you continued on with the relationship, knowing he would come back to you anyways.
But then, he didn’t come back. It was September and you hadn’t talked to him all August—to say the least you were confused. Where had he been all this time?
The first day of school you had immediately ran up to him, you remembered you had said, “What’s wrong? Why have you been ignoring me all last month?”
And he laughed.
He laughed straight at your worried expression.
And you want to cry.
It was all a bet, he said. One that involved completely playing with you to win some money.
You couldn’t cry in front of him, nor could you run away from him like a fucking loser (which you really wanted to do but you wouldn’t want to see the pleasure on his face). All you could do was say “Okay,” and walk away. That’s all you did—So hopefully to him you seemed unfazed. But that facade didn’t last long.
You almost tripped over things or even people on the way to the bathroom, sobbing your eyes out until they had wrung dry.
You were sad—Yes, but you were also frustrated by how stupid you were.
He didn’t even talk to you half the time, he barely even knew what you liked or disliked, he didn’t even pay attention to the kind of jewelry you wore—he bought a gold necklace for you as a loyal silver wearer, and overall you were just stupid. Stupid to fall for the role he put on.
Crying usually didn’t take long for you, usually an half an hour at most. But that day you had sobbed and sobbed in that stupid toilet stall for one hour and you didn’t feel like going back to class with your crusty eyes, so you accidentally skipped your first three periods.
You remember that day as vividly as possible. Your parents were furious that you skipped three classes—So angry they didn’t even look twice at the dark circles under your puffy eyes or the red tint that had covered your face.
One thing you knew was that you never told them, the only thing telling them would get you was a scolding because you skipped three classes over a boy. A boy who was your “first love”. And as stupid as it sounds, they wouldn’t understand. Honestly you wouldn’t be surprised if they told you that they thought your feelings were just little pranks you were playing on them.
If your parents thought that, everyone probably thought that. So, you put on a happy face for Chaewon, even if she knew you were sad she probably didn’t even care. I mean if Hyun-woo didn’t even like you, who would?
001 REALIZING THE OBVIOUS
Jay never thought he was stupid. Actually, he found much pride in how smart he was. He was always the kind of person to think before they say something. He was never impulsive—Well until he met you that is. But that didn’t really end well did it?
It made it even worse that nobody seemed to care. Sunoo didn’t even send a sad look his way (which by the way—Was totally deserved even if he did mess up).
“Why the long face, Jay? You lose another cute girl?” Jake teases, a grin appearing on his face.
“Who was it again? Hyun-woo’s ex-girlfriend?" Sunghoon's smile grows, “Finally played her?”
Jay groans, “Yeah, i did, but i messed up, bad.”
“What- did Hyun-woo threaten to jump you again?” Jungwon's eyebrows furrow, almost worried that Jay would lose in a fight with him—which he definitely wouldn’t.
“God, you guys are so ignorant, think about the poor girl for once.” Sunoo sighs, rolling his eyes at his friend's fuckboy-ness.
Jay almost rolls his eyes at Sunoo's comment. Were you thinking about Y/n when you blurted his secret out? But he knew he had to take accountability, whether he liked it or not.
“No way. Does the Park Jay feel bad about a girl? The Heartbreaker Park Jay?" Jake asks. And Jay wonders why he’s even friends with them. “Okay, I do feel bad. How do you apologize to a girl? Also Sunoo?"
He tilts his head.
“Never get drunk again.” Jay warns.
He scoffs, “Weren’t you planning on telling her anyways? I just ripped the bandage off for you.”
The group of boys burst into laughter but Jay couldn’t seem to figure out what was funny. “I didn’t come here for you guys to laugh at my misery.”
Niki gasps, “Jay, you’re actually serious about this one? This is a first.”
This time Jay actually rolls his eyes, “No dumbass- I’m just mad I can’t play around with her anymore.” The group seems fully convinced, some nodding their heads in expectancy. Jay’s eyebrows furrow seeing them be so blind to his problem, “I was kidding.” He deadpans, “I’m serious about her.”
His nose scrunches ever so slightly, “Oh. Well then you’re in huge trouble.”
“I know.”
“Okay—But seriously,” Jay asked, “How should I apologize?” A sudden wave of silence washed over them, looking at each other and shrugging.
-
Apologies, apologies, apologies was what went through his brain that night. What could he do that could fix the mess he had made?
People say real apologies came from the heart, but what even came from the heart? It’s an organ.
Jay’s mind felt like it was about to explode. It’s been an hour but his mind was empty, completely hollow. How could he fix this situation? Well first he could say sorry—Not that you would forgive him easily but it was a crucial part to his fix.
Until it finally clicked.
002 JAY’S “MASTER” PLAN
Last week you couldn’t bear the thought of coming back to school after the party, but here you were, driving yourself to school after a very sad three week mid winter break. A band aid now covering the tip of your finger that you had picked off. And—Of course. You forgot your water bottle again.
You sigh, fixing your silver necklace, you brush your hair behind your hair and open the car to—Oh fuck.
Why did Jay just happen to look like a fucking angel fallen from heaven at 7am in the morning?
And why was Jay here so early at school? You usually arrive much earlier than him.
You compose yourself, walking past him. Holding yourself to not even slightly slow down or look back.
Finally arriving at your locker you open it, looking at the light pink bag in it, one that you never put in it. Your eyebrows furrow as you pick it up, opening the mysterious bag.
You smile at the small snacks inside. A small bag of your favorite chips and a few of your favorite candies. That smile drops when you see an apple shaped sticky note with familiar handwriting inside.
Some gasps behind you, you jump, quickly turning around to see your beloved friends. “Someone’s got a secret admirer?” Eunbi teases, both Chaewon and her walking up to you.
You sigh, “It’s from Jay, do you want it?” You offer to both of them. They both grab it, sharing whatever snacks are in there.
“Oh!” Chaewon lights up, “Here’s your coffee.” She smiles with guilt. You smile back, gladly taking a sip of the slightly bitter drink to quench your thirst.
“Did the note say anything?” Eunbi pulls out the slightly crumpled sticky note in there. You glance at it, noticing Jay’s very asymmetrical heart.
You unconsciously laugh, quickly covering it up before grabbing the small note, reading it.
To My Apple,
I was stupid to use you to get back at him. Honestly the most stupid thing I would ever do and I deeply regret it. I’m sorry. I know you probably don’t want to see me right now and I understand that you want your space from me. I just want to make it clear, I really do love you and I would never ever do something that horrible to you again. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to be on good terms even if you don’t fully forgive me for what I did to you. I truly am in love with and honestly I can’t live without you. Fuck I just miss you, you don’t have to respond or anything I just want to make it clear that I’m sorry, and I love you so much.
Jay
And your lips tug up just a bit.
“Y/n are you okay? You’ve been quiet since you’ve read that. What’s on there?” Chaewon asks, moving next to you to read from the flimsy paper.
Your eyes widen slightly, “Oh—It’s nothing.” you fumble with the paper a bit, “Nothing important.”
Eunbi laughs, “You’re such a bad liar, Y/n. But if it’s from Jay then you have to tell us.” Chaewon nods.
“No! I mean, it’s not from Jay. Let’s just go to class?” You smile at them shoving the sticky note into whatever pants pocket you have.
“You’re lucky you have your first period alone Missy.”
Throwing them a cheeky smile, you quickly walk to the nearest trash can, quickly tossing it in before looking around. You make eye contact with Jay and quickly look away again.
God—Why was the universe never on your side?
Though you try to ignore the small frown on his face, it runs through your head all day. Until, suddenly you're walking to your math seat again.
“Y/n you’re lucky that this is the only period I have with you, and that we spend all of lunch with our mouths stuffed” Eunbi groans, unpacking her notebook. She places it down neatly on her desk, before leaning forward to you.
“So, was it from Jay? Weren’t- like apples your thing?”
You let out a sigh, turning around “Apple cider was our thing. And maybe.”
She frowns, “Maybe? Y/n tell me, yes or no.”
You shrug again, turning back to the front making eye contact with the man himself again.
Does this man ever stop looking at you? Because you were almost certain his eyes were glued onto you. You look down at your notebook, trying to act as unbothered as possible—Which doesn’t really work since you hear Eunbi snickers..
You roll your eyes even though Eunbi can’t see it, she can read you like a book, whispering “If you keep rolling your eyes they’ll fall to the back of your head.”
Leaning back, you whisper, “I don’t think that’s how it works, stay in school Eunbi.”
003 PLAN IN MOTION
Getting out of the car the next day you hope and pray to every fucking god you know that you won’t see his familiar face again. But nothing ever seems to go well for you, because you see his sad smile through the window of his car.
You repeat what you did yesterday, walk away as quickly as you can without looking weird. But your legs quickly pick up because of your nervousness, speed walking to the entrance doors instead. You lean on the door, pushing to open it before walking in the same pace to your locker.
Then you finally slow your pace, opening your locker to see another light pink bag.
This time, the same snacks but with a plastic water bottle inside, with a little note saying “Make sure to drink lots of water <3”. You subconsciously smile, fishing out the piece of paper neatly tucked in.
Unfolding the paper, your jaw drops at the pencil writing that manages to cover the whole page.
Apple, my love, I might not be the best at words but I think seeing your lips tug up at my other small note motivated me to write this. Did I ever tell you that your smile brightens up my day? As cheesy as it sounds at night I used (I still do btw) to think about whatever stupid joke I made when we were on a date and how you would laugh happily at it, even if it was the worst joke ever known to mankind. And as embarrassing as it is to admit it I would giggle about it. Before and after we started dating. But you always cover your mouth when you laugh. but you shouldn’t. Your smile makes me feel like everything going wrong in my life will fix itself. When I was with you I had no worries, you made me feel free. But I’ve only brought you worries. I’m sorry.
Recently, I’ve been noticing you’ve been smiling less and yesterday you forgot to bring your water bottle to school. Please stay healthy and eat well, okay? Even if you hate me, I still care for your health. Don’t skip meals and drink lots of water, please. I’d do anything just to have a five minute conversation with you. I understand that what I did was unforgivable and that you shouldn't trust me again but please, put your trust in me one more time and please come to Azalea park at 3pm tomorrow and I’ll explain everything. I know you're angry but I beg that you be angrier at a closer distance. I’m sorry for the mess I’ve made, and I promise I’ll fix it.
Jay
Your eyebrows furrow. Was he serious? Was he trying to publicly embarrass you? Why did you want to go so bad?
Opening your phone to quickly text up Eunbi and Chaewon, who mysteriously hadn’t shown up yet.
You
bitch jay just wrote me a long last letter abt how hes sorry and how he truly loves me and wants to meet up and make things right????
where tf are yall btw
eunbi mlll
SHUT THE FUCK UP.
ARE YOU SERIOUS??
YOU HAVE TO GO
also chae cant drive me so bus it is…
chaechae
sorry ill be late to school 2day bc doctors lolsies
but r u sure eunbi????
y/n i love u but idk if this is a good idea
wait what did he say
eunbi mlll
NO U HAVE TO GO
but let us see the letter to confirm if hes sincere
You
im not about to show U guys the letter
Omfg guys i almost giggled reading it. this is Bad.
he said that he would do anything for a five minute talk with me and that he knows im mad at him but to be mad at a close distance???
now… i am Nawt your strongest soldier.
chaechae
shit if he wrote me that i wouldve folded too
changed my mind i say do it
You
so…. 2/2 votes yes?
thats kinda nerve racking idk if im ready to face him
eunbi mlll
y/n i am ready to get down on my knees and beg for u to go
you got this girl!
worst case scenario u slap him and embarrass him
chaechae
or maybe slap him when you get there, saves you the time
Just Kidding!!! Hahaha
You
Not funny at all.
hate u all
FUCKK now i have to text him and say im going
eunbi mlll
why not let him suffer???????
You
ill feel bad
chaechae
Oh
i mean did jay do that when you guys met??
You
fuck u
You exit your group chat, looking several spots down and spotting Jay contact, wincing at your last messages.
You
i’ll be at the park by 3. don’t fuck this up park
jay
wouldn’t even think about it
004 THE MEETING
Why did I agree to this again?
You glance at the clock, 2:58, I should head out now.
Sighing you open your door, walking to—From what you can distinguish from his back, Jay. you walk around the bench, brushing whatever dirt was on it and taking a seat.
Jay gives you a relieved smile, glasses framing his face perfectly-
“Glasses?” You blurt, studying the frame of them.
He coughs awkwardly, “Yeah- I um—I got them yesterday, forgot to wear them to school.”
Awkward silence washes over you two. Well was he going to say something or not?
And it’s almost like he can read your thoughts, because he starts, “Look—Apple. I just wanted to apologize in real life. It was a shitty move of me to use you-”
“Yeah- very shitty.” You interrupt, “Sorry, go on.”
“Oh okay, um- it was a terrible decision I made and I totally messed with you at the beginning, and never told you, I’m sorry.”
He pauses, choosing his words carefully.
“And—I regret it so much. I mean, you were the best thing that ever happened to me and I didn’t want to fuck it up, which would’ve happened anyways. I should’ve told you earlier on before I asked you out but I was afraid. Afraid that the only good thing in my fucked up life would vanish. So I ran away from the problem instead of talking to you about it like I should’ve. I’m sorry for running away and I swear, I would never hurt you—ever again. You don’t have to give me an answer yet, but just know that I still love you with all my heart.”
You take a deep breath, Fuck—what do I say? Should I ask him what he had against Hyun-woo?
Deciding to ask, you look at him with a hint of disappointment, “So why? What do you have against him that made you play with me?”
His eyebrows raise slightly, surprised you didn’t slap him and leave.
“Oh— it’s kind of stupid.” He says, pushing up his glasses slightly.
“I mean he both kinda fucked us over, right? I won’t judge, I hate his guts anyways.”
Jay lets out a breathy smile. “I used to be on the rugby team, remember?”
“Of course I do.”
“Well—I sound like such an egotistical jerk when I say this, but he took the captain position from me by sweet talking his way to the top. It wasn’t mine to begin with, but everyone thought that I deserved it the most, but of course, he took it from me. I wasn’t super mad or anything, I actually thought I was too cocky for um—thinking I deserved the position. It didn’t really help that he also kind of made fun of me any chance he got for not being captain. Blaming me for every loss we had then I just- snapped I guess? I quit then and there and here I am now. Even after I quit he still talked shit about me and I couldn’t really do anything. And I saw you and…” he trails off, “You know what happened.”
You swallow hard, trying to take it all in. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
You nervously start picking at whatever skin on your ring finger you could find, looking down so you wouldn’t have to look at his expression.
“It’s not your fault, don’t apologize, Apple. Plus I’m over it.”
He suddenly scowls, grabbing the now bleeding hand.
“Stop doing this. It’s not good” He pulls out a bandaid from his pocket, carefully placing it around your finger.
You laugh at the sight, “You carry around band aids now?”
“Ever since I met you, yeah.” He slips out and you both go silent.
Was that true? He noticed it?
You clear your throat awkwardly, yanking your hand away after he finishes. “Thank you for the band aid—uh, about your apology, I appreciate it, but I need some time to think about it, if that's okay?”
“Yeah, take your time, I understand.” He gives you a soft smile, which you return. Waving at him while walking to your car.
You sit in the driver’s seat, calling the group chat while backing out.
Chaewon joins first, “So…. How’d it go? Did you slap him? Or did you forgive him?”
Eunbi joins just after, waiting for your answer.
“I don’t know how to feel.” You answer, sighing.
“Hey, you’ll figure it out Y/n! Don’t worry, everything will be fine.” Eunbi gives you a thumbs up with a soft smile.
You nod, returning her smile, and you try to believe it too.
005 THE CALL
As soon as you were out of view Jay pulled his phone out, noticing the ten text messages from the man himself.
sunoo
jayyy
hello
where r u
wait r u two meeting today
OK IK U WONT SEE THIS
so i just want to say sorry for… kinda ruining ur relationship.
IM SO SORRY I WAS DRUNKK PLEASE FORGIVE MEEE
anyways.. text me back whenever u can!!
have fun with y/n
hope it goes well
A smile grows on Jay’s face, he presses his contact photo, bringing his phone to his ear.
“Jay! I didn’t think you would answer so soon?”
“It’s been fifteen minutes? I feel like that's a good amount of time to have a conversation.” Did you just want to leave him as soon as possible? Fuck maybe he didn’t have a chance to win you ba-
“Oh! It’s been fifteen minutes? I guess time flies when you’re on your phone right?” Nevermind.
“So! Did you and Y/n kiss and make up? Or was she angry?”
“No, we just talked? Like I said we would?”
“Are you sure?” Sunoo says in a teasing tone. With that simple sentence, Jay could tell Sunoo was probably giggling to himself about you two meeting up.
“Yes I’m sure? Why would I be lying?” Jay feels the wind pick up some speed, an indication he should go home. He walks himself to the car while talking to Sunoo.
“So you’re telling me, all you did was apologize and she left?”
“Yeah.”
Sunoo groans, “That’s so boring! Totally thought you would have a movie moment then.”
“I mean the only thing unexpected I told her was what happened with Hyun-woo and me.”
He dramatically gasps, “But you never tell anyone? Why does she get to know and not me?”
“She asked.” Jay shrugs, starting the car.
“But you never told me, I only know that you two hate each other! This is straight favoritism. Can’t believe you.” Sunoo angrily exclaims, deciding to hang up the call.
Jay sighs, driving back home.
006 DAY RUINER
Today, you smile as you leave your car. Instead of walking as fast as you can to the doors, you even wave at Jay’s car pulling in. He waves back, a big smile on his face that catches onto yours. You happily walk to the entrance, pushing open the entrance door and walking to your locker.
Getting your first period textbook, and closing your locker, you quickly spot Eunbi and Chaewon walking towards you.
“Someones happy, did you get a good morning message from your lover?” Eunbi teases.
You take a sip of the coffee Chaewon gave you. “No? Can’t a girl just have a good day?” You twirl around.
“Okay you’re acting really weird. Is something wrong?” They exchange glances, waiting for your answer.
“Yeah, somethings wrong.” A male voice comes up to you. Your smile immediately drops. Hyun-woo looks at you, standing between you and Eunbi, he grabs your hand dragging you away.
“What the fuck? Get off me!” You exclaim, trying your best to yank your hand away from him. But apparently his rugby muscles could keep you in his hold, but definitely way too tight for comfort. Hopefully you won't get a big ass bruise there.. He leads you to a hallway which is surprisingly empty.
“Can we talk? Y/n?”
You scoff, “Are you crazy? You drag me here and expect me to want to have a civil conversation with you?’ huffing, you turn back around.
“I want to get back together, Y/n!”
You stop in your tracks, turning around at his conflicted face before bursting out laughing. You only laugh more looking at his hurt face.
“Y/n are you laughing? I’m serious! I want you back! And I know you want me back too!”
You finally stop laughing, taking a deep breath “Gosh you’re funny Hyun-woo. Okay, I’m leaving.” He grabs you again. Does this guy think he’s in a kdrama or something?
“Y/n. I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I miss you. Can we get back together?”
“So… you played me, and you want to get back together?”
“I wouldn’t say played-”
“Oh but I would. And can you get your hand off me? I can feel your odor latching on to me.” Yanking your hand away, you look at him in disgust.
“Y/n please. Can we-”
“You’re insane Hyun-woo. If you haven’t gotten the hint yet—Which I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t, I’m not interested in dating someone who’s a lookalike to the hunchback of Notre Dame. Actually, maybe that would be an improvement to you.” You shrug, walking away. Shivering in disgust at the thought of him grabbing your arm.
How did I even like this guy? Also what is it with men these days? A scowl is very obvious on your face as you walk back to your lockers. Before you get back to Chaewon and Eunbi, someone taps you from behind.
You turn, “I swear to god Hyun-woo if you-”
“Not Hyun-woo, just me.”
You turn to see Jay, a frown present on his face. Your mouth widens slightly and you close it right away. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for that, but are you okay? Why did he do that?” He checks your wrist for any forming bruises. Tsking at the slight red tint on your arm. “I’m fine, Jay. It was for something stupid anyways.” you answer, grabbing at his hands to stop.
“What’d he do?” You can hear the genuine concern in his voice and you know you’ll feel horrible if you don’t tell him.
“He just,” you cough awkwardly, “asked to get back together.”
His face changes slightly, but you can’t tell how, “Did you agree?”
“Oh god no—oh my god I wouldn’t even spare a single thought thinking about it.” You laugh, squeezing his hand slightly. A wave of relief washes over his face, “I’m glad. Call me if he does it again, okay?”
“Am I supposed to be your damsel in distress?”
“I was thinking we could kick his ass together.”
You let out a giggle, “I’ll make sure to let you know then,” waving goodbye, you walking back to your beloved trio.
“Oh my god, I didn’t know the talk went that well, you guys were flirting so hard!” Chaewon whisper-yells.
“We were not flirting.”
“Oh you so were. You literally giggled while talking to him” Eunbi agrees.
“I did?”
“See it was so natural you didn’t even notice! I wasn’t really a fan of Jay but he clearly makes you happy.” Chaewon admits, putting her hands up in surrender from Eunbi’s offended look.
“I don’t know. I mean he did kinda use me. So who says he won’t do it again?”
“Me, I do. If he does I’ll literally punch him to oblivion” Eunbi and Chaewon start pretend boxing, the bell interrupting their match. They both groan, giving up mid match.
“I’m glad I’m friends with the next Muhammad Ali, but I’m going to go to class now.” You laugh, waving goodbye and walking to your first period.
007 CALLS AT MIDNIGHT
Your math class gave you time to think about everything going wrong in your life, because who was actually listening to Mrs. Lim’s blabbering? You doodle little hearts in your notebook, now noticing that you hadn’t written a single note and the whole page was just covered in your drawings.
Does this class never end or something? You wonder, checking the clock.
Twenty minutes left, you internally groan, how is it that time moves so slow during times like these? You bring your hand to your mouth, biting the nail off your ring finger. Feeling a vibration coming from your phone, you quickly take a look at the board, making sure the teacher was still writing before checking it.
jay
stop
You
whatd i do???
jay
stop biting your nails
i can see you doing it yk
You
thats none of your business
jay
it’s not
but i still care ya know
You
oh really?
jay
really.
You
fine whatever 🙄🙄
The smile that had grown on your face quickly fades the moment you even notice it was there. Why are you folding so easily Y/n? You have to give him a hard time! You sigh louder than you realize, quickly feeling embarrassment when Mrs. Lim stares right at you.
“Is something wrong, Y/n?” Mrs. Lim asks, a cruel eyebrow raised.
Oh, fuck me. “No Mrs. Lim, nothing is wrong.” You smile as sweetly as you can.
“Then I guess you won’t mind answering one of these questions?” She showcases three equations on the board.
Your smile falls slightly, not this shit again, you complain, walking up to the first equation staring at it blankly while she picks the next two students. Holding the marker up and pretending to think, knowing damn well that you hadn’t listened to a single thing she said that day.
Looking over to the person next to you, Jay, seems to already be looking in your direction, a small smile on his face.
“Looks like you need help this time, Apple? What a twist.”
You roll your eyes, “You didn’t even need help last time. But yes, I do. Could you please—like give me the answer or something?”
“X equals four point five seven.”
You finally return his smile, a small thank you coming out as you write it on the board.
After another long twenty minutes the bell finally rings, indicating that school is finally over. Your usual after school routine was, 1. walk to your car with Chaewon and Eunbi (sometimes you hung out, but today you weren’t) 2. Go home (duh), and start your homework, 3. Eat dinner, and 4. Go on your phone until you fall asleep. You didn’t mind this arrangement, it kept you comfortable knowing that you had some free time later in the day. But today, you were dreading it more than ever.
Why? you ask?
Every couple of days, whenever your phone wasn’t doing your boredom justice you put it down for a good three minutes. And those three minutes entirely made up of you staring at the ceiling and thinking. That was the problem. You didn’t want to think about a single thing that happened today. You didn’t want to think about your upcoming tests that only got you nervous before you were about to go to bed or your love life (which it sometimes went to but you always dreaded even bringing up the topic to yourself).
Tonight was one of those nights you would stare at the ceiling.
The topic you always first thought of was what you did earlier that day. But unfortunately for you, half of the day you had thought about you and Jay basically holding each other's hands. And the other half was thinking about if you forgave Jay yet.
You wanted to say you didn’t. That you would have to take at least two weeks after the apology to even think about the apology. But two days after the apology, here you were. Staring into space about how you think he would react to you forgiving him.
I mean you had basically already forgave him, I mean you wouldn’t have squeezed someone's hand you hated, right? And you definitely don’t miss the voice of someone you hate.
Staring at the ceiling clearly wasn’t a good idea. Because you were already grabbing your phone, looking at his contact. Just above it is your group chat with Eunbi and Chaewon. Maybe you should get a greenlight before you decide to call him.
You glance at the clock, making sure it wasn’t too late to text your friends. The clock hits 11:52 as you look at it. Typing out the texts, you wait until the message sends before closing out of the app.
You
hey guys lawl
r u awake
pls say Yes!
Luckily, Chaewon answers just a few seconds after you close the app.
chaechae
hi im awake
is eunbi awake around this time???
You
no shes never awake past 10 LMFAO
shouldve messaged u privately
chaechae
HELPP FR
wait so what did u want to talk abt
You
Uhmm
so uh
do u think its weird that i’ve forgiven jay so easily and should i call him.. lowkey miss him
chaechae
BITCH U FORGAVE HIM??
WHEN
ok but no??
i mean anyone could literally see how hard he tried to make it up to you
and call him!! Yolo
You
ok Thx!!!!
chaechae
yw 😘😘
Closing the chat, you look at his caller i.d, noticing how big his smile was in the contact photo you never deleted. Smiling, you look down at the call button, wondering if this was a good idea or not. You hesitantly lift your finger, hovering over the rectangle before clicking it.
The phone rings twice, before he answers.
“Y/n, is everything okay? Why are you calling at midnight?”
“Everything’s fine, don't worry, but sorry, did I wake you up?”
You can hear shuffling on his side of the call, before he answers, “No no, I was awake. Why did you call?”
“Honestly? I just wanted to hear your voice.”
He lets out a low chuckle, “Really? That’s it?”
“I also think I forgive you and I want to be your girlfriend again.”
A wave of silence washes over you two. Not a single sound comes through your phone, not a single shuffling or anything. Maybe you shouldn’t have called him, this was a stupid idea. Who let you make important decisions past ten o’clock?
Until he starts up again. “Wait, really?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“You don’t have to answer that right now if you’re not ready to, I can wait eternity for you.”
“No it’s okay, That’s my answer. Let’s give this thing another try.”
“Thank you, Apple. I’ve missed you a lot, you know?”
You smile, “I’ve missed you a lot too.”
008 FOREVER
“Jay, it’s a Saturday.”
He has a huge grin on his face, he very proudly presents what’s in his hands. A bouquet of white and purple roses with a mix of some unknown flower sit in his hands, the brown paper wrapped by twine making him loudly announce every move he’s about to make.
“So? I missed my girl.”
You sigh, rubbing your pried open eyes. “At nine in the morning? I wake up at like eleven.” His smile never falters, not a single bit, “I got you flowers.” Jay says, handing them to you.
“Thank you, Jay. But these are so bright they could literally blind me.”
“I put a lot of thought into this, you know? ‘Made sure to pick the prettiest one for you.” He points to the unknown purple flower. “This is called a Heliotrope.”
“Is there a meaning to it?”
“You’ll figure it out.” He smirks. Rolling your eyes, you invite him into your house. placing the bouquet carefully on your desk before inviting him to sit on your bed.
You lay back in the spot you were before you had opened the door. About to tuck yourself back in when you realize you have a guest with you, you toss the blanket open, gesturing for him to lay next to you. Jay gladly accepts, laying next to you. Closing your eyes you feel the dip in the bed right next to you.
You two both move to get comfortable, finding it best when you’re facing each other, arms lazily thrown over each other.
“Did you just come here to cuddle?” You ask, the words barely coming out of your throat. A soft chuckle comes out of him, you can feel the vibrations of his chest when he says, “Would you mind if I said yes?”
You shake your head no, pulling him impossibly closer. He wraps his arm around your head, softly caressing it until you fall asleep.
Later, you wake up to Jay still sleeping soundly. Checking the time you realize you’ve been sleeping for at least an hour. You grab your phone from the bedside table checking your notifications and social media apps.
In your peripheral view, the bright purple flowers stand out brightly to you. You quickly switch apps to look up the meaning of the flower.
Pressing enter you read the first box you see.
“In the language of flowers, Heliotrope symbolizes devotion and eternal love.”
A smile grows on your face, Eternal love, I could get used to that.
009 TO DRINK SOME APPLE CIDER (extra timeskip)
Sitting down at your vanity, you look over at Jay to see his familiar dyed silver hair, and a nice dress shirt. You turn back to the mirror.
“Can you believe 2024 is over?” You ask Jay, blending out the eyeshadow you’re putting on. He walks next to you, wrapping his arms around your body, laying down on you. “I’m glad I’ll be spending it with my girl.”
You cover your face feeling the warmth grow on it, slapping his arm, and he quickly pulls away, hissing at the contact.
“Hey! What was that for?”
“For not letting me get ready.” You jokingly roll your eyes, he quickly kisses your cheek before going back to fix his shirt.
Once you finish you showcase your look, you decide to wear a satin green dress, matching Jay’s dark green shirt. You both look at your full length mirror admiring how you look.
“You look so pretty, Apple.” He says, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.
You smile when he does that, “You don’t look too bad yourself, Park.”
He frowns, “Don’t call me Park.” he says. You smirk mischievously, “I’m sorry, my big baby.” You tease, pinching both his cheeks. A knock to your apartment door sets you apart. You quickly let his cheeks go, a red tint fills them as you run to open the door. Chaewon and Eunbi greet you two, both holding food of some sort.
Later everyone arrives and the sound of the room grows. Laughter and banter fills the air as the clock continues to click to midnight.
You stand off to the side, wanting a break from everyone for a little bit, taking a sip of the sparkling apple cider you’ve had in your hands the whole night. You look back up to see Jay approaching you with a smile, showcasing his matching cup.
“We both have apple cider!” He exclaims, gesturing to the amber colored drinks in both of your hands.
“What a coincidence.” You laugh, enveloping him in a hug. “Where have you been all night? I haven’t seen you since Jungwon arrived.”
“Sorry, I was just talking with them. Got caught up and then suddenly it’s minutes to midnight! Couldn’t miss my new year’s kiss with my girl could I?”
The seconds count down as the crowd of friends all join to count down from ten.
“Ten!” They exclaim.
“Who said you were getting one?”
“Nine! Eight! Seven!”
“I’ve been hoping for one. Would you like to be my New Year’s kiss?”
“Five! Four! Three!”
“I’d love to.” You respond, he barely hears it before the friends scream in excitement.
“Two!”
You close your eyes, smash your lips into his, tasting the sweet apple cider from both of your lips. He smiles into the kiss as the whole apartment celebrates. He wraps his unoccupied hand around your waist, as you wrap yours around his neck, being careful to not spill.
You finally pull away and he looks at you with a love sick gaze. You let out a breathy smile, “Happy New Year, My love.”
“Happy New Year, Apple.”
Giving him a huge hug, you look at everyone chug down their champagne drinks, laughing when Sunghoon spills on his shirt.
“I love you.” Jay whispers.
“I love you too, Jay. I hope we spend the rest of the year together.”
“Maybe even forever.” He replies.
You look back at him, tilting your head slightly. A huge smile still plastered on your face. “Forever and always.”
taglist : @jwnghyuns @ja4hyvn @trsrina @redm4ri @badmuni @yeokii @enhastolemyheart @softpia @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @flwoie @kjrcrz @hsgworld @boyfhee
yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.
#k labels#k-films#enhablr#hyfenet#yenqa’s works!#apple cider 🍎•*!#jay x reader#jay fake texts#jay fanfic#jay drabbles#jay smau#jay au#jay fluff#enhypen jay fanfic#jay fanfiction#enhypen jay x reader#jay social media au#jay fics#jay fic#enhypen jay smau#enhypen x yn#enhypen reactions#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen fake texts#enhypen scenarios#enhypen fic#enhypen jay ff#enhypen drabbles#enhypen imagines#enhypen fanfic
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It's not just the commodification of fandom. It's not just the disinterest in wips in favor of completed stories. It's not just the unwillingness to take chances on new writers.
It's the demand for instant gratification too.
I'm posting a "wip" right now. It's actually a fully completed story, and I stated that in the A/N when I started posting it a few weeks ago. I finished writing it early in December. It's not going to be abandoned and discontinued. Short of a tragic accident, it will 100% be posted in its entirety before the end of January.
It's also almost 60k words long. Each chapter is approximately 14k words. That's a lot to expect people to read quickly, so I made the decision to post weekly instead of dumping it all at once. I don't normally do that for wips. I normally post bimonthly to give myself time to write the next chapter. But in concession to the fact that this one is already finished, I decided to post once a week. Could I have posted it all at once or even once a day? Sure, but again, I have more than a few close friends who are slow readers, and I thought it was better to give people the time to read each chapter and let it digest before dumping another one on them instead of making them feel like they have to read it immediately so they don't miss the next update.
This, apparently, was a mistake.
I've been very open about working on this fic since I started it in September. People told me they were excited to get the chance to read it every time I posted an update about where I was in the writing process. When I announced that I was posting it, they told me that they couldn't wait to read it. It's not like I was expecting massive numbers of kudos and comments; this fandom has shrunk in size and engagement, I'm not the most popular writer in it, and I try not to feel entitled to engagement, but considering all the people telling me they were excited for it, I was expecting something.
Instead it was crickets. All those people who were so excited and told me they couldn't wait to get home to read it? That was the last I heard from them, unless it was to express outright incredulity that I expected them to read a work in progress. "It's not a work in progress!" I protested. "I'm just taking a little longer to post it!" Yeah, but it's not posted all in one go, so why should we bother to read it? We'll just wait until the end of January once it's finished. "Will I hear from you then? Will I get any indication at all that you liked it?" Eh, maybe. If we feel like it. But it'll only be one comment at the very end. If that.
This keeps happening. If it's not an already completed chaptered fic that I'm posting over time instead of immediately, then it's an idea that I had first talked about a while ago but took a couple months to write only to be met with silence once I start posting because everyone moved on and forgot about it. If it's not ready to go right now in all its fully finished glory and all 60k words posted immediately after I first spoke about it, then why am I talking about it at all? Why should I expect people to be waiting in anticipatory eagerness?
I remember when I posted my first Christmas event fic in 2020. It was already finished too when I started posting it. I'd been talking about it all year. People had seemed really excited for it when I first mentioned it, but then interest seemed to die out somewhere around August. By the time I started posting it in late November, I was fully convinced that no one was going to read it. I actually posted the first chapter and then immediately turned my computer off and didn't let myself turn it back on until the next day.
I was shocked by the number of readers I had. The number of comments. The sheer amount of people telling me they'd been waiting on tenterhooks for me to post that first chapter. And it kept coming. People were talking and theorizing and marking their conversations with spoiler bars for anyone who hadn't read the latest chapter. People timed when I posted the first few chapters so they could be waiting by their computer for when I dropped the next one. I was randomly gifted art. It was really an event, and I'll always be grateful for the support and community I was given for that month.
I never believed I'd ever be able to capture that kind of readership again, and I was right, and that's okay. But when I posted last year's Christmas event fic, for the first time since I started doing this in 2020, someone asked me why I bothered to space it out over a month instead of just posting the entire thing in one go on Christmas Day and how could I possibly expect them to be that invested for an entire month instead of just waiting until it was finished. I didn't know how to tell them that only three years prior, that's not only exactly what people did but they were excited for it to be like that.
If I'm not going to post my already completed fic in one lump sum right now, then the audience for it is nonexistent. And the audience won't grow once it's finished. It's like I have one opportunity to capture the readers and if they weren't willing to take the chance on the first chapter, then they'll never come back. It's disheartening, to say the least. Only six months ago, I was telling a friend that I thought this was my forever pairing, that I'd still be writing for this ship when I was old and grey. And now I'm going through my ideas folder, wondering what can be repurposed for other ships, because I increasingly feel not just that I'm shouting into a void but that the void is actively ignoring me.
I can't post wips because what if I abandon them or take too long to update? I can't post a chaptered fic in one go because that's too many words to expect people to read. But I can't space out posting completed chaptered fics either because everyone wants the instant gratification of the full fic right now. So what am I supposed to do?
I miss December 2020, but it's not the random art that I miss or the kudos or the number of comments. It was the community that built up around this fic. It was knowing that it was okay to space out the chapters because everyone was still right there with me, talking and theorizing and using their spoiler bars. It was my audience trusting me enough to come along with me for the ride instead of waiting for me to be done. I was so scared back then that the full year between me first talking about the idea and posting the first chapter had lost me my audience, scared that they'd all forgotten about me and moved on to other authors who were quicker to post, but I wish I'd known that three years later, it would only take four months for people to lose interest in an idea.
I'd have treated December 2020 like it was way more special than I did.
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MY 2023 RECAP THING
Hello everyone, I've come to you all to look back at some of my posts from this year. I will go over which fics and/or headcanons currently have the most upvotes by the month that I posted them in. I will also be sharing some fics/headcanons I think deserve more love and fics/headcanons of my mine are my personal favorites. Then I will shout out a couple of people before giving my final thoughts. Hope you all enjoy this and have a good new year.
Starting in January, I posted 3 fics and 3 headcanons. But there can only be top three and those are 141 & Los Vaqueros getting saved after shit fell on them winning with 1061 upvotes, Lingerie cod men would wear on their honeymoon with 951 upvotes, and Racoon look alike with 639 upvotes.
Now on to Febuary. I posted 6 fics and 4 headcanons. And the top three are Cod men with a s/o that age regresses with 576 upvotes, For your fucking information with 552 upvotes, and Good boy at 503 upvotes.
Next up is March. I posted 2 fics and 2 headcanons in this month. The top three being 141 meeting Price's heavily tattooed & piericed s/o with 844 upvotes. Young dumb and in love with 372 upvotes, and Jason Vorhees with a tall dom s/o with 304 upvotes.
In April I only posted 1 fic and 1 headcanon. Meaning there is only top two those being 141 & Los Vaqueros reactions to you giving them a random gift with 872 upvotes and Rock and roll legend with 706 upvotes.
Similair to May I only posted 1 headcanon in May. So we only have a top one which is Diego Hargreeves NSFW headcanons with 124 upvotes.
Then in June I posted 3 fics and 1 headcanon. And our top three are Bite with 835 upvotes, Sexy army uniform with 555 upvotes, and Laundry day at 305 upvotes.
Next in the month of July, I posted 1 fic and 3 headcanons. The top three being Fucking Wesker, Leo, and Carlos in their office at 211 upvotes, Sleep aid with 76 upvotes, and Lingerie I think Jamie Tartt would wear at 20 upvotes.
Now in August I posted 1 fic and 4 headcanons. But our top three are Random SFW & NSFW Slasher hcs with 509 upvotes, 4 times Mr. Handsy struck with 303 upvotes, and 141 & Los Vaqueros with a chubby bf with 223 upvotes.
Then in September I posted 3 fics and 1 headcanon. But out of these 4 the top three are 141's Hitman "friend" with 330 upvotes, 141 with a s/o that smokes Mary Jane with 324 upvotes, and After a long day with 113 upvotes.
Next in October I posted 7 fics and 5 headcanons. However the top three are, Slashers with a s/o that uses humor to cope with 273 upvotes, Stress relief with 262 upvotes, and You sure about this with 250 upvotes.
Now coming close to the end of the year in November I posted 4 fics and 8 headcanons. The top three out of these being, Cod men with a s/o that is a good cook with 578 upvotes, The bar with 323 upvotes, and The lovey couple with 76 upvotes.
But now last but not least in December I posted 4 fics and 4 headcanons. But our top three are Love languages Matt Murdock and Frank Castle like giving and receiving with 127 upvotes, The start of Billy and his metal head bf relationship with 116, and Ghost comforting his trans bf with 109 upvotes.
I posted a total of 35 fics and 37 headcanonst this year which is crazy now to put in perspective. Thank you guys for all the love and support that kept me going and posting.
Here's some fics and headcanons I think deserve more love; Lingeire I think Kayce, Jamie, and Rip would wear, MJF with a non binary s/o, Lingerie I think Darby Allin, Jon Moxley, and The Young Bucks would wear, Jey Uso kinks, Being enemies to lovers with Carmy Berzatto, Lingerie I think Roy Kent would wear,
Now we are onto my favorite fics and headcanons that I wrote this year.
For fics I would have to say my favorites are Good boy, You sure about this, Alleyway blowjob, Duality, and Stress Relief.
And for my favorite headcanons I have to say 141 & Los Vaqueros reactions to you giving them a random gift, Random SFW & NSFW Slasher hcs, 4 times Mr Handsy struck, and Matt and Nick Jackson age regressing hcs.
We are now at shoutout portion and almost at the very end of this recap thing of mine. It is now time to give roses to some very lovely people that I can’t recommend enough. So starting off I want to shoutout some of my mutals, @yourfaveprettyboy, @marksbear, @b0g-b0y, @guardkeywolf, @electricsunshine, @yanderestarangel, @miguel-owhora, @bonesnmore, @gazmialmagemela and @transi1vanianhunger. And I also want to shoutout @rodolfoparras, @lieutnt, and @gatorbites-imagines. Please go check all these guys out and show them tons of love and support as they all deserve it. Also please be respectful and follow their blog rules.
Now we are at the bottom of this recap thing. I can’t say thank you enough to all you guys for continuing to read and interact with my work. I appreciate all of you and like I have said in the past when I started writing here on tumblr I never thought I would get this far and look now I have a over 2,000 followers and a whole slew of mutuals. So from the bottom of my heart thank you guys. I hope you will all join me in 2024.
#cod x male reader#cod x reader#dc x male reader#dc x reader#marvel x male reader#marvel x reader#peaky blinders x male reader#peaky blinders x reader#resident evil x male reader#resident evil x reader#slashers x male reader#slashers x reader#stranger things x male reader#stranger things x reader#supernatural x male reader#supernatural x reader#ted lasso x male reader#ted lasso x reader#the bear x male reader#the bear x reader#the umbrella academy x male reader#the umbrella academy x reader#aew x male reader#aew x reader#wwe x male reader#wwe x reader#yellowstone x male reader#yellowstone x reader
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Turn Me Loose (Steve Harrington x Fem!reader)
summary: steve has a hard time committing—you have a hard time letting him go.
uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.
♡ all out 80s: short fics based off 80s hit classics ♡ based off the song ‘turn me loose’ by loverboy
warnings: infidelity, loveless relationship (on steve's part), angst, break-up.
w.c: 2.2k
hawkins, indiana august 1987
Before you, Steve had a reputation.
Golden-boy, stellar athlete, peaked-in-high-school Steve Harrington was constantly surrounded by women. They rotated through the passenger seat of his BMW like a revolving door. Caroline on Monday, Heather on Wednesday, Natalie for the weekend. Word spreads quickly in a tiny town like Hawkins, and in no time, Steve Harrington became Hawkins' resident man whore.
But then he met you—and for the first time, he was hooked. He stopped going out of his way to chat up other girls at the mall, started calling you once a day. He was eager to take you out to dinner, overjoyed by every kiss and minuscule affection. There was something so enticing about you, and every moment spent with you felt like electricity in his veins.
At the five month marker, you decided to move in together—a small apartment on the outskirts of town. You fell into a normal routine, maneuvering around each other in the kitchen, falling asleep in each other's arms. You spent nearly every moment together, and it only took a few weeks of constant attention for Steve to feel suffocated. He quickly realized that your glittery charm wasn't enough to keep him satisfied.
It lasted a year before he cheated.
The first whiff of infidelity had you crumbling. Steve started coming home late, stopped answering the phone when you called him at work. His friends assured you he was just busy, stressed with the new role he took on at work as manager. But you could see it in the strained pull of their smiles—they knew, just as well as you did, that he was being unfaithful.
He came home one night drenched in sickeningly sweet perfume with lipgloss smeared on his collar, and you broke down. You spent hours screaming at each other, throwing anything in your reach at his stupid pretty face. He slept on the couch, and you cried yourself to sleep.
The next morning, he crawled into bed with you and wiped your face clean.
"Baby...baby, I'm so sorry. I'm so stupid. I just...I don't know how to have a girlfriend, honey. I love you, you know I love you. I'm just not good at all this."
He promised it was the first and last time. A stupid mistake. He'd never make it again. He'd be better now. And you swore that if you heard he was unfaithful again, you'd pack your bags and be out of the house before he could even beg you to stay.
Steve lied.
But so did you.
♡ ♡
"Hi, honey."
You came flouncing into the room dressed for work, pencil skirt neatly ironed and blouse buttoned to the collar. You breezed past Steve at the kitchen island, hunched over a bowl of cereal, stopping only to press a kiss to his cheek. His reply came in the form of metal against porcelain, his spoon clanking into the bowl.
You pulled a mug from the cabinet and reached for the coffee pot, glancing at him over your shoulder with a raised brow.
"You okay?"
Steve's eyes barely flickered your way as he hummed, eyes empty and face blank. "Yep."
You swallowed, putting the coffee back. After a small sip of the bitter drink, you leaned back against the counter and flashed him a small smile.
"I was thinking we could have dinner together tonight after work? I'll cook—"
"—M' goin' out with Eddie."
Your cheeks warmed, heart sinking. You placed your coffee mug down and cleared your throat.
"Oh. Okay...I'll see you after then?"
Steve huffed, brushing his ruffled hair out of his eyes. "Maybe."
You smoothed your hands over your skirt, looking at anything but the bored expression on his face.
"Okay...have a good day, honey," you cooed, crossing the kitchen to stop next to his stool and press another kiss to his cheek.
He tipped his head away, and you pulled back with a frown.
"I love you."
Steve flashed a tight-lipped, toothless grin. "Mhm, you too."
You stomped down the stairs to the parking lot and slammed your car door closed, willing hot tears away before they soiled your makeup. Steve had been like this for weeks now. He was there, but he acted like it was inconvenience to him. His annoyance was always a little too evident. You wished he'd try a little harder to hide it, or at least keep it tucked away until he went out with Eddie Munson. You knew every time they 'went out,' it was to pick up girls at The Hideout and complain about you.
But all you did was love him. Why couldn't he see that?
Back in the apartment, Steve shoved his head into his hands at the kitchen island. His cereal was soggy, his head was pounding, and the kitchen still smelled like your perfume. It was the same one you'd been wearing for years, and it used to make Steve woozy and lovesick. Now, it just made him plain sick.
You were gorgeous, no doubt. Sweet, funny, loving, and kind—but Steve just didn't love you. He wasn't sure he ever really did. But you were always there, promising him happiness and looking at him like he was the best thing in the world. You fueled his ego, at least for a little while.
Now, it wasn't enough. He was bored. And no matter how many times he cheated, how many times he left you waiting or wondering, no matter how many times he flaked on plans you'd had for months—you always stayed. He didn't know how else to drive you away.
"She just won't break up with me," Steve groaned to Eddie that night.
They were sitting at a sticky, wobbly wooden table at The Hideout. The crowd was sporadic, the hour still a little too early for most. But Steve's beer glass was already half empty, and two shots had already been thrown back. Eddie chewed on a toothpick and rolled his eyes.
"Crazy idea, Harrington," he droned, tearing the took pick from his mouth, "why don't you just break up with her?"
Steve winced and grimaced, gazing down at his frothy beer. He gave his glass a shake on the table, sloshing it around.
"I can't. I can't do that to her."
Eddie shook his head, reaching over to punch Steve's arm. "Oh, sure you can, champ."
Steve pushed him away, eyes drooping.
"Eddie, I'm serious, I can't."
Eddie leaned his elbow against the table, cupping his hand over his forehead. His patience for dealing with his best friend's relationship had been wearing thin for a while now.
"You dip into a new pussy every night, but you can't cut this girl loose?"
Steve's cheeks burned at the admission, but he concealed it with the rim of his beer glass, gulping down the tangy liquid eagerly. He slammed the empty glass down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"I don't want to hurt her."
For a moment, it was quiet, the void filled only by the low hum of the jukebox playing a KISS song—until Eddie cackled so loud heads turned. Steve's own snapped up to glare at his friend, who had fallen into a hunched over fit of laughter.
"Alright, shut up," Steve scowled, scratching at his hair.
Eddie clutched his stomach, gasping in air.
"You cheat on this girl regularly, shove it in her face, but can't break up with her be-because you don't want to...hurt her?"
Eddie giggled again, waving his hands as if in a plead to make Steve stop amusing him, but the latter could only glare at his friend across the table.
"Oh, now that is rich, Harrington," Eddie chuckled.
Steve snatched a pretzel from the bowl between them and gnawed on it anxiously. He looked off toward the bar, where a familiar long-legged redhead perched on a stool. She waggled her fingers at him, a sideways smile painted on her red lips. Steve sighed, shoving the rest of the pretzel in his mouth.
"I gotta break up with her, don't I?"
Eddie eased back into his chair, following Steve's line of sight toward the redhead. Eddie crossed his arms, head shaking again slowly.
"Someone's gotta put an end to this shit."
Steve tore his eyes away from the girl, nodding in agreement toward his friend. He motioned toward the tequila shot sitting in front of Eddie.
"You gonna drink that?"
Eddie held his hands up in surrender, and Steve quickly snatched the glass and threw it back. He groaned at the sting, stood to his feet, and clapped Eddie on the shoulder.
"Thanks, buddy. I'll see you later, yeah?"
Eddie opened his mouth for a reply, but Steve was already off. Eddie watched him stagger toward the pretty girl at the bar, and snickered when she immediately began to giggle as he leaned against the bar beside her.
"Stupid bastard," Eddie muttered.
♡ ♡
That weekend, Eddie hosted a party at his trailer. You always tagged along with Steve when Eddie had a party, and tonight was no different. You sat on the bathroom sink and smudged eyeliner on your lash line, mouth hanging open as you applied mascara. You called to Steve to toss you your lipgloss on the dresser, and when he came into the bathroom to hang it to you, he paused in the doorway.
"What?" you asked, turning to take it from him.
He shrugged, head shaking. "Nothin'. You look pretty, s' all."
You broke into a smile, heart thumping hard in your chest. He hadn't given you a compliment in a while. Steve realized, as you thanked him sweetly and giggled to yourself, that he hadn't seen you smile in a while, either.
He trudged into the living room to wait for you with a lump in his throat.
At the party, Steve excused himself to get a drink, and immediately cornered Eddie in the kitchen.
"I'm doing it tonight," he declared quickly.
Eddie pushed Steve back by the shoulders, tossing him a look. He dipped into the cooler on the counter and pulled out a beer for Steve.
"Doing what?"
"Breaking up with her."
Eddie tossed his head back with an incredulous groan. "Dude, seriously? Don't fuck up my party with your drama."
Steve snatched the beer in his hand and scowled. "I'm not gonna fuck up your party, man. Just don't let any of the hot chicks leave. Thanks, buddy."
Eddie glared at the back of Steve's head as he rushed off, shaking his head to himself again. What a tool.
You were waiting for Steve in the living room, smile slipping when he came back with only one beer. Seeing the change in expression, he handed it off to you.
"You didn't want one?"
Steve shrugged. "I'll get one later."
You accepted the sweating bottle gingerly, flashing a smile. You hated beer, and after over a year together, you figured Steve would've remembered. But it was the thought that counts.
"Thanks, honey."
Steve sank down beside you on the small couch, hands clasped together dangling over his knees. You took a tiny sip from the bottle and winced, clearing your throat to combat the taste. Steve ran a hand through the front of his hair, scratching at it frantically. You frowned, reaching over to rub his shoulder.
"You okay, Stevie?"
Steve sighed, hooking his chin over his shoulder to look at you. Just one last time, he wanted to look at you and know you were his. His heart squeezed at your eyes blinking up at him, your lips pouty and glossed. He felt terrible, but it wasn't right. He couldn't let this go on.
"Actually, can we go talk somewhere? Just us?"
You pulled your hand away, searching his eyes. They were softer than you'd seen in a long time, round and doe-like. He looked sad.
"Yeah, okay."
He took your hand to guide you toward the hall. His touch was soft and warm, and you could only peer at your intertwined fingers longingly as he pulled you into Eddie's room. Steve gently nudged you toward the bed, and as you sank down onto the edge and watched him pace, you suddenly knew exactly what he was going to say.
Steve's hands found his hips, head hanging toward the floor to watch his feet stride back and forth. You sighed, pulling at the soggy beer label with your fingernail.
"I know what you're gonna say, Steve."
Steve came to a halt, eyes wide on your deflated figure.
"You do?"
You nodded, grinning solemnly. "Yeah, honey. Yeah, I know."
Steve sighed, and when he sank to his knees in front of you on the carpet, he felt like the world's biggest loser.
"We should've done it a long time ago, baby. I just...I can't be anybody's boyfriend, you know? I don't know how to...be good to you."
You nodded, and this time your smile was sarcastic. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."
Your fingers were cold and damp as they swept across his forehead, brushing his hair aside. For the first time, you could see the guilt wading in those big hazel eyes. It seemed in that moment, Steve realized what he had all along.
"Good luck, Steve. I hope this makes you happier."
But it was too late. Slumped on his knees, Steve watched you walk out the door, and never look back.
#rolly!#steve harrington x female reader smut#steve harrington x y/n smut#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington#steve harrington fandom#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x fem#steve harrington fanfiction#steve the hair harrington#stranger things fic#steve stranger things#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things#joe keery
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Shameless Whumptober Masterlist
just a list of all the shameless whump fics i wrote in october
Safety Net
tw suicidal thoughts
Mickey has always been there for Ian, even when he's in Mexico and Ian wants to jump off a bridge.
Solitary Confinement
tw mistreatment of mental illness
Ian’s meds were bound to get out of whack at some point in their prison stay.
Made To Watch
tw implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/referenced child abuse
Ian and Mickey go to a couple’s therapist once a month.
Outnumbered
tw implied/referenced rape/non-con , implied/referenced underage sex , child abuse
Laura Milkovich is 19 years old when she gives birth to her third baby, Mikhailo. It’s the 10th of August in 1994, her husband is in jail and she’s a mother once again
You Said You'd Never Leave
tw suicidal thoughts
Ian comes home from the hospital and Mickey isn't there.
Insomnia
Mickey thought he was just having trouble adjusting to the new surroundings of living in the Westside. He’s not used to the quietness, he’s feeling homesick or the moon is too fucking bright.
Infection
Mickey’s never felt…normal when it comes to Ian. Ian makes him weird and do things he’d never normally do. Like get a tattoo of his name on his chest in prison.
Makeshift Bandages
Mickey hides an injury from Ian while working at the Kash 'N' Grab
Leave Me Alone
tw horror, mistreatment of mental illness, murder, dead dove: do not eat, paranormal, major character death
Ian's convinced something is haunting their apartment. Mickey realises he's telling the truth when it's too late.
Drugging
tw drugged, date rape drug
Mickey’s started going to the club with Ian just to make sure no one takes advantage of him. He lets Ian do his thing, give out lapdances, sweet talk them for some extra cash but he’s always stepping in when they go too far.
Floral Bouquet
tw major character death
Ian passes by a flower shop every day on his morning runs but can't bring himself to go inside.
You Will Regret Touching Them
tw implied/referenced child abuse
S03E06 but it goes differently.
Mickey feels like he’s going to throw up at any second.
He’s got a boy spending the night with him. Not just any boy, Ian. Ian is staying the night and he’s trying to play it casual but he can’t stop glancing over at the red head just to make sure he’s really there.
Don't Move
Mickey is allergic to bees and fucking hates spring
Who's There?
tw thriller, horror
Mickey is home alone and starts hearing noises outside the house.
Storm
tw implied/referenced rape, child abuse, internalised homophobia
Mickey's feeling post S03E06.
The hooker is still here, looking just as scared as he is and putting her purple dress back on under Terry’s watchful eyes. He throws her a bag of coke and she fumbles to catch it. Terry won’t stop glaring at her and Mickey takes it as his chance to look at Ian’s empty spot. He’d taken his clothes, wasn’t sure if Ian was allowed to get changed here or if he left in his boxers.
You Look Awful
tw gay bashing, hatecrime
Ian laughs next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and tugging him close and Mickey laughs back and turns his body into Ian’s. Adrenaline is running through his body and he feels so fucking good right now, it’s the best high he’s ever had.
Mickey's feelings post coming out
Bloody Knife
Ian wasn’t expecting their little trip back to the Southside to end up like this.
‘This’ being the emergency room because Mickey somehow got himself stabbed.
Borrowed Clothes
tw suicidal thoughts, psych ward
The first 24 hours are the hardest.
It’s full of regret on his own behalf, self-loathing and running thoughts of ‘what if’. What if he had been paying more attention, what if he wasn’t so focused on work, what if Mickey had been a good husband?
Body Modifications
tw implied/referenced child abuse
Mickey's always had a love hate relationship with his knuckle tattoos
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A Starry Night in 1956
Link to Part 1: A Sunset in 1956
It isn’t necessary to read Part 1 to understand this fic but hey it doesn’t hurt. ^^^
Warnings: p in v smut, virginity loss, oral sex (f receiving), angst, argument, reader has a panic attack in a crowd, descriptions on uncomfy clothes, some objectification of the body?, edging, unfulfilled wishes of finishing inside a woman, teeny bit of masturbation, any more pls let me know
WC: 13k (please bear with me lol about 5k of it is smut)
A/N: The story takes place in Florida in August of 1956. But unlike Elvis’ real life Florida shows during this time, instead of a theatre I’m imagining an amphitheater, park type of venue, like a music festival? if that makes sense. This is my first time writing smut, go easy on me. My inbox is always open for requests if for some reason you trust me with your ideas. Ahhh enjoy.
The starry night’s humid Floridian air was the cozy homestead of not only the expected water vapor but altogether meaningless, patient chatter. The laughs and small talk of people all with a common goal and interest: to see the Elvis Presley perform before them. The Elvis Presley so nationally loved by friends and schoolmates. The Elvis Presley so naturally hated by parents and guardians.
A passionate performance ranted and raved about, a controversial performance complained about and loathed, fit altogether in such a delicious little package for anyone so free in their judgment and beautiful rebellious lovers who have gotten their hands on the wave of Rock n’ Roll. The bow of this gift was a handsome man at its forefront. The poster boy of it all.
You’ve had the privilege of getting to know and love Elvis ever since you were sat at desks right next to each in elementary, in the days when the world was blissfully unaware that the foreman of a cultural movement was in school learning times tables. Seats that would eventually get moved due to disruptive chatter and giggles from the two of you, but the bond built that day could never let up or separate. Now you get to share the gift that is your best friend with the world, for better and for worse.
The year is 1956. Elvis and his band are touring and performing for adoring audiences all around the country and of course he had to take you, his “bestest girl”, with him to every single stop on the road.
You remember the now-fond, then-scary day when in the comfort of your childhood bedroom of your baby blue family home in Memphis that Elvis first proposed the idea that you come with him across the country.
——————— A few months ago ————————
It was a little while after you and Elvis had come up from dinner. After putting your dishes in the sink and thanking your mother again for the meal she prepared, the two of you quickly but politely and calmly made it a mission to get back up the stairs and into your bedroom like you had done so many instances before. It started when you were little, yawning and waiting patiently to get dismissed from the dinner table to get back to playing, sometimes getting yelled at for trying to race each other up the stairs to see who can get to the top first. Now that the two of you are young adults, you are obliviously unaware at how the urgency to get to your bedroom might look to any bystander. The bystanders being your confused, furrowed brow parents.
It was a vulnerable sunset, the orange hue of golden hour pouring into your window as the only new thing allowed to enter your frilly, pink bedroom. A bedroom whose decor hasn’t changed for years.
The two of you had planned to go page by page through your copy of the high school yearbook from your graduating year, reminiscing together on past experiences and gossiping about where everyone is now. You can clearly recall the moment when you finally were able to wriggle the yearbook from your full well-loved bookshelf, dusting it off and holding it in your hands while Elvis whispered from his spot on the pink, stuffed-animal filled bed behind you his plans about going away to do performances and his hope that you will accompany him. You dropped not only the book you were holding onto the cold hardwood floor but also the smile decorating your face as you turned around to face him.
“What’d you just say, Presley?”
You knew exactly what he muttered. He whispered loud enough to know you could hear him. You were both aware of these quiet facts. Quickly, you scurried over to your bedroom door to grab the doorknob and close it, an action that your parents did not allow when Elvis was over, but at this moment the pure necessity made you not care at all.
His voice was louder and shakier now, his accent getting thicker as he hurriedly tried to explain and convince you all in a few seconds. It was as if the last train was about to leave the station and he's trying his hardest to get you on board. His leg bounces against the bottom of your wooden bed frame.
“I know, I know. It sou-sounds crazy b-bu-but Mama is worried sick about me going and I know she’ll feel better if you’re there with me. I’ll feel better if you’re there with me. You just gotta, you gotta come with me, Satnin. You don’t know how much I need ya, honey. I really do. Never needed ya more than I do now.”
You force words to come out of your mouth in response to this confession of his. He’s never needed you more.
“E-Elvis I can’t just up and leave. What about…”
The tone of his voice has done a 180 and is now trying the best it can to portray calm and certain. The falsehood that everything has been figured out, the hope that everything will be okay. The need that everything will be okay. It’s apparent to him that you need assurance in this moment but his words are not only spoken to you; they are a message of comfort to himself, a plea to the Lord that what he has taught himself to think is actually the plan, that what he has grown to believe is indeed the truth.
“We graduated a while ago. We’re grown now. Ain’t nothing stopping us but ourselves. That’s what I had to tell myself. The only one that’s stopping you is yourself. It’s all doubt.”
You start to pace around the room, your feet going from the softness of your small carpet to the stable hardwood. Every thought and uncertainty is filling your mind at rapid speed and they’re pushing to spill out of your mouth restlessly as if your brain can’t seem to keep them all contained in one spot.
When you regain the ability to form sentences you stop in your tracks to look at him, your racing thoughts are even faster as words.
“I’ve got a family too, Elvis. A loving one just like you do and your mama wouldn’t be the only mama worried. My mother would be more than worried and I can’t imagine leaving her and no way my daddy would just let me roam the country either. You know him, you know how he is.”
“Honey…”
It’s like you don’t even hear him, your brain doesn’t have the space to process that he spoke, “What about all I’ve got here, Elvis? My job at the diner? I told ya that promotion is coming soon. Oh God, I know it is, I’ve been working for a while. I can’t just quit and lose all that progress I made! Brother done moved out to live his life and my parents are gonna be here all alone without me.”
Your feet stop their parading right in front of him, both of your hands on the side of your face like they’re the only thing keeping your head on. Your eyebrows furrow in wonder of why he isn’t trying to combat your words, confused on the fact that he doesn’t seem as concerned as you are.
Elvis decides to gently take both of your shaky hands into his, leading you to sit down on the bed next to him. Your poodle skirt lifts a little in the back just for the top fabric to pool around you and settle back down on the comforter, the breath you take in lifts and settles just the same.
He consoles in almost a whisper, “You don’t gotta worry about all that. It’ll all be alright. We’ll be together.”
“I know we will but….” His thumbs start moving back and forth in a soothing motion, cutting you off.
His voice picks up more, “Please? Come with me? All we’ve been through together, we can’t lose that now. I’m s-so scared of losing that, of losing you. I need to take a piece of home with me. Something to keep me stable, to keep me going. You always do. Every new place I go, I’ll have my Memphis with me.”
He gestures exasperated to you, his Memphis.
You take a long sigh, have all of your years of friendship culminated to this moment? The only movement in the bedroom besides the rise and fall of breath is his steady thumb on the back of your soft hand.
There is a few minutes of uneasy silence before you speak up looking not at him but instead at the glow of the shaded lamp on your nightstand. “How long will we be traveling again? I need to know how much to pack.”
“Well. New dates and venues keep being added and uh—Wait a minute....That means you're coming?” He glances at you, eyes sparkling full of hope.
You stare back at him with a smile, hope matching hope. A soft laugh almost makes your words a melody, “That’s what it means.”
“Oh, Memphis!” Elvis quickly traps you into a big, bear hug as if all of his pent up emotions have been waiting to be released. He’s squeezing you like his life depends on it, his arms around you to hold and keep you close. You giggle at this sudden action as excitement fills the air and fear clouds your mind. But, it’s a good kind of fear. It’s an anticipation that cannot be tamed.
————————————————————————
That day was a while ago. The Colonel has taken Elvis and his band (you and the Memphis Mafia buddies that have tagged along, he has taken begrudgingly) around different parts of the USA. You’ve gone to venue after venue, drove mile after mile, and it was far from done. Tour life has its ups and downs for everybody and it’s proven that the lifestyle is not for the weak of spirit. You have experienced exhilarating parties and contagious laughter that made it so you never wanted the sun to set and the nights to end.
There have also been days that the homesickness stays sitting in your belly, tears threatening to fill your eyes if you thought too hard about Memphis or stared too long at the family picture you kept safe and secure in your bag. An emotional rollercoaster when you come across it while quickly taking something out.
Many had come out for this night’s concert, one of many that Elvis would perform in the sunshine state of Florida. You watch observantly as the crowd around you waited in the open-aired park venue with waiting breath and time-passing fidgets.
It managed to cool down significantly from the heat that coated the early hours of the afternoon, to which everyone was thankful because it hopefully meant less fainting from screaming girls. The fanatic women didn’t have to worry about the sun beaming down to work against them, only Elvis’ attractiveness filling their soul, making them swooningly dazed. Pure anticipation kept the atmosphere thick where the temperature had let up.
You were full of anxiety as you stood alone in the middle of the crowd. You shifted from foot to foot, hand tugging on the edge of your tight black pencil skirt. It hugged your lower half like a glove would and had to be at least a few inches shorter than what was seen as decent. You know that your daddy would have a fit if he saw you dressed like this.
These recent stops have been hardest on your heart, hardest on your mind. It has been too long since you’ve touched your mama’s face, too long since you’ve heard your daddy’s belly laugh. Too damn long since you’ve seen the familiar, calming blue paint of your Memphis home. The same home you were brought home from the hospital to, the same home you left to go on tour.
We’ll be together.
His words have seemed to do nothing but haunt you lately. You’re together all the time, that’s true, but you only seem to be wholefully acknowledged when he remembers you exist. Nowadays, the only long conversations you have are when he needs someone to vent his emotions to and happens to recall that the girl he drags along with him is not only a pretty thing to look at but is also his best friend. You don’t even know if the best friend part still holds up anymore but it hurts too much to even imagine that being the case. If you think too hard about it, you would no doubt throw up right on the lady next to you’s shiny heels.
You play with the strap of your blouse, is it tighter than when you put it on? Is that possible? Well it had to be, no other explanation. You’ve never felt so uncomfortable in a top.
We’ll be together.
He’s together with girls that aren’t you. You shouldn’t be mad about it. You can’t get angry at it, you aren’t his girlfriend. He has no reason to commit to you but now your life is centered all around him. You can’t help the jealousy that fills your mind like a bitter perfume whenever you see him flirt or kiss a random girl. Several beautiful girls crowd around him at each stop, eager to get their hands on Elvis Presley. You sigh knowing that you could never hold a candle to them. If your light shined as bright as there's, why weren’t you his? You give polite, tight-lipped smiles when asked to hold the camera and snap fan photos. You stand there awkwardly shifting back and forth on your feet, playing with your hands in the moments succeeding when he starts smooching all over them with that signature Elvis-style charm after the flash leaves and the picture is snapped. Who knew that there were so many model-worthy women just sitting in Suburban towns waiting to have their lips kissed and boobs grazed by Elvis Presley?
Some nights you find yourself alone under the stars and locked out of your and Elvis’ shared motel room, the only place that you know can be yours in such an uncertain existence. In your place is a gorgeous woman from the party the Memphis Mafia insisted that you all go to after an already long night.
Well, you technically can’t say the lucky woman is “in your place” because the activities occurring on the other side of that lovely door are things you can only dream about Elvis doing to you. There have been many nights where you’ve thought about sneaking in the bed next to yours to feel him in a way you’ve never had. Even if it’s just for sleep.
The reason you two even share motel rooms in the first place is Elvis’ desire to keep you safe and in his line of vision. Away from the access of creepy men roaming around these unfamiliar cities and even some of his Memphis Mafia friend group who think it’s fun to hit on you sometimes. He keeps you close but not too close. You’re stuck in a limbo of not knowing where you stand with a man you’ve grown to know so well. You know with every ounce of your heart that Elvis cares about you, there is no doubt about that, but you don’t know how he feels about you. It leaves you feeling dumb and knowledgeable. Disoriented and understanding.
Little does he know that sometimes you do get tortured sometimes, by no one but him. A mind game he doesn’t even know he’s playing. It leaves you broken, what’s the point?
In the crowd, your hands shake with nerves as if you are the one about to perform. The expensive gold and diamond bracelet Elvis bought in New York and presented to you under the old oak tree in your backyard makes a clanging sound as it moves with your motion. It seems tighter than it was when you put it on earlier. To take your mind off of both boredom and anxiety, you use all of your concentration to unhook the tiny gold clip and you make it looser a few notches. The bracelet had looked so out of place the night he gave it to you; the shine of the metal contrasted with the pastel fabric over your skirt. Though you are sure that the little diamonds throughout the chain shined brighter that night when you were sitting next to Elvis, maybe the light from the sun, maybe the light he radiated.
The jewelry went perfectly with your look tonight. Elvis has been picking out your outfits lately. They have gotten so mature, so grown up, so sexy.
———————— A few hours ago ————————
Elvis’ jaw dropped when you stepped out of the small bathroom looking like the epitome of a Hollywood bombshell in the outfit he had bought for you. He ignored the urge to pat himself on the back with how it all came out. “Wow, honey. You’re tryna kill me, huh? Do a spin, you have ta.”
It’s a tight blouse, a lower cut than you would even think about picking up from the rack but he was glad that could convince you to put it on. Your chest is lifted and displayed perfectly among the bright, satin blue fabric.
He’s used to your lower half being covered beneath the layers of poodle skirts or swing dresses but the tightness of the black skirt was practically nude compared to your usual style.
Some of your body is left to the imagination, how he likes it, but seeing the true outline and curves of your figure was like getting a glimpse of heaven.
You giggled and did as much of a spin as the tight fabric of your skirt and your heels allowed you. “Do you really like it?”
He looked at you, shocked that that’s even a question. “Are you kidding? Like isn’t strong enough of a word. Imma have to beat fellas away with a stick.”
“You’re gonna get jealous? Maybe I should use all my flirting skills tonight. I might meet a nice Floridian boy, you never know.”
“No such thing as one. You should go look at yourself in the mirror though. Might make your head a little bigger but it would be a shame if you didn’t see yourself.”
Your jaw was the next to drop when you got a good look at your full outfit in the mirror. No way the woman staring back in the reflection was you. It had to be someone else.
“Seeing what I’m seeing now, honey?”
You made sure to do every step of the process how Elvis liked it. You had taken his suggestions on how to do your hair and not one strand was out of place. The dark makeup was his idea as well, you’d usually never apply this much. The outfit topped the whole thing off.
“Oh thank you, Elvis! You’ve got a good eye for these types of things, you really do. You’re the bestest. Should pick out my whole wardrobe, that’s how much I like it. It’s beautiful.”
He replied simply but perfectly, making your knees weak as he did it, “You’re beautiful.”
Your eyes tried to meet Elvis’ baby blues in the mirror but couldn’t quite catch them because he was too busy staring at other things. You watched him scan you up and down with those famous bedroom eyes, lidded as in a trance, and you were sure that you could pass out right there. He’s never looked at you with such fever in his eyes before and oh how much you enjoy it now that you’ve had a taste of it. You aren’t sure if you should kiss him or slap him as he lustfully and not so subtly stares at your legs, your hips, your waist, your boobs. His eyes only leave the mirror to look at your backside, not visible in the glass.
Little did you know, you were the manifestation of everything he had worked towards, a physical representation of how far he’s come. His childhood best friend dressed like a leading woman on the big screen…because of him.
At that moment he remembered, a thought provoked by a thought, an incident years back when the two of you were playing and running around the plush grass of your backyard, the blue paint of the house was brighter back then and the birds chirped a little louder. The wooden swing was still intact with both ropes on the tree, aging this story correctly, and your favorite activity in those days was to swing and jump off. One day, Elvis was sitting on the ground watching you demonstrate the skill that was jumping off the swing and the precision it took to get it right. When you leaped, he watched as your skirt went up in the air to act as a parachute, giving him a view of the white cotton panties you wore under your skirt. His eyes widened and his cheeks flushed pink. Years later he can look back and laugh at how innocent and curious he was.
You got up, grass stains on your knees from the jump, and was quick to sit next to him, “Elvis?” You stop trying to catch your breath. “Wasn’t that amazing! I’ve been practicing and yours might not be as good as mine yet cause you are just starting. You gotta time the jump just right..”
You rambled on and on not yet noticing that your friend hadn’t responded yet when suddenly you stopped, noticing his red cheeks. “Elvis? Is everything alright? You’re looking a little pink.” You poked each of his apple-red cheeks with your finger and giggled.
That was the first time Elvis saw you, or anyone for that matter, in such a way. There was a weird pang in his heart, a blush that didn’t want to tame, and a fast shaking of his head when you asked what had gotten him so flustered that he wasn’t able to speak for a whole minute. Years later, he’s the one dressing you.
He smiles to himself at the memory. You saw each other grow up. Elvis started to notice you wear makeup. Your eyelashes magically got longer, little did he know at the time that this was due to mascara, something that has since become well acquainted with. The pretty pink blush that you used to only have when you were flustered and embarrassed stayed permanent on your cheeks as if normal. Over the years, he noticed how your tops started to fill out more, something he felt bad about taking glances at in those teenage years when he had the hormonal urge to stare. Well he still has those urges at 21, but that’s beside the point. Your face has matured into its features. You’ve always been pretty but have you always been this gorgeous?
He’s taken out of his own head when he feels you turn from the mirror and hug him, he uses his hand to pet your head lovingly and follow the shape of your hair.
———————— 20 minutes ago ————————
All those thoughts he had a few hours ago while getting ready in the motel room lingered in his head when you last saw each other about 20 minutes ago. He looked over at you once more backstage before sending you out to join the crowd waiting. “Go out there and enjoy the performance, honey.”
You have gotten used to being a backstage-dweller, watching from the sidelines getting a view that few others would ever have. The only downside was not being able to see all of Elvis’ pretty face while he performed but that stunning side profile was enough to keep you satisfied.
“I can’t just stay back here? No crowds…no sweat…no pushing. It’s nice”
“You think I dolled ya up for you to hide? I wanna see you while I’m performing. Spending all your time behind the scenes you can’t get the full picture. Might forget why you’re here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Don’t know why I’d say it if I wasn’t sure. Do I have a reason to lie?”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“But that’s what I answered, honey.”
You huff, “Fine.”
————————————————————————
This series of events is how you ended up in your current situation.
The cold barricade is the only spot of cool under waiting torsos as you are only two rows back from being able to count the dust of the stage. You take a glance at the curtain stage left, trying to get a glimpse at the man who sent you out here. It’s to no avail as you are just a little too far back and the curtains have no give in their ability to stay closed. Your right hand goes up to cover your chest in defense when while looking to the side you catch one unsuspecting girl’s boyfriend trying to pass the time by staring at you a little too intensely. If looks could kill, you’d have been dead a long time ago. Girls look at you with disgust as if you were planted as an opener for their boyfriends to gawk at; boyfriends who only came out to make their gals happy, their hair styled in the hope that she’ll pretend he’s Elvis later on tonight. Some didn’t care or acknowledge your existence at all which made you wonder if these “stares” were all imaginary. Just your mind trying to protect you from something not happening. No way they weren’t real, if they weren’t you wouldn’t be so itchy right now, and your breath wouldn’t be so heavy even when the humid air is giving you nothing to work with.
You felt so desirable and confident when Elvis was eyeing you at the motel, what happened? Maybe the realization that you’re attracting the wrong people. You aren’t desired by the man your heart yearns for most. All dolled up to be a woman created for you to be, a woman that you knew that if you thought hard enough, if you worked hard enough you can one day become. The shell had been made for you to fill in seamlessly and it was still uncomfy. And oh how much you wanted it.
The lights go down and rogue screams of excitement accompany it. The lights are back up in a few seconds and there he is in all his glory, Elvis Presley. He still has that radiating quality that can be seen in the dark, a boyish smirk that causes women to shriek, hair that except for a few pieces in the front would be flawless. His suit is a little oversized but still perfect. He didn’t look real and every time you see him perform you are taken back as if it’s your first time ever laying eyes on him. Like a flower, Elvis blossoms like a flower in spring while on stage. It’s where he shines the brightest. He’s the boy you’ve always known transformed into something more than just potential. It’s the best version of himself, being in your happy place will do that to a person.
You focus on fawning over the man on the platform as if he’s the only thing that matters. The only interior taking you abruptly out of this reality is a push….not a push, a shove. It’s the group of younger teenage girls behind you trying to get closer to the stage. Someone else bumps into your shoulder as you look over. You can feel people’s breaths around you, the sweat, the sticky warm air, the heat of it all mixing together. It was never roomy on the grass, but the bubbles of personal space subconsciously given in to everyone in the crowd popped in that moment and the people just started getting closer and closer.
It was like a sea of magnets attracted to one thing and you wanted to yell at yourself for picking a spot as close as you were to the stage. Your breath quickened as screams got louder and louder, more and more overwhelming. Are these girls next to perform? How are they getting up to those octaves?
A man holding his woman’s hand, trying to get his gal closer to the front, had to have not seen you in front of him as he pushed through. It was at this moment that the loosened gold bracelet sitting around your wrist flew off and landed on the grass next to you. As you reach to pick it up, tears making your vision blurry, the front of a lady’s heel steps on it, the delicate chain snapping. Your gasp was full of fear and surprise, it was as delicate and small as the bracelet. Either the shock was too pure to come out of your mouth and instead went down to your heart or the sound was drowned out by the noise surrounding you. Maybe both. You were too small to be heard.
The offender walked away quickly and nonchalantly as if the metal of your most beloved possession was as soft as grass. Frozen in place before continuing your mission, the seconds you spend bending down to pick it up from the ground felt like hours. Gasping for air as if you were underwater, your shaky hands reach for the bracelet, now split into two pieces of chain. You grab onto whatever you can, fist turning white and the journey back up was even tougher. It felt like your throat was closing up like the pressure changed from the ground to normal height. No breath you take is deep enough for an efficient amount of air. Why can’t you breath? Your nose stuffs up and your lips shake in a shiver. The stampede of hormones is well past by now, you aren’t squished, no ones touching you but at this moment everything feels too close. Everyone’s focus is on Elvis, no one is even acknowledging your existence but it's still embarrassing to feel the tears travel down your face, getting ready to stain the surface.
Not knowing what else to do, you start to hurriedly walk the opposite direction of the stage, trying to find anywhere to go that wasn’t there in the grass. The only time in your life that you are trying to escape that silky Southern voice. You give a small “sorry” here and a tiny “excuse me” there as you make your way past people too entranced by Elvis’ performance to notice that someone was talking to them. Your voice was so weak and shaky that your mind made you doubt if they could even hear you over the noise, doubt if the words came out of your mouth to begin with.
Your walking leads you away from the crowd and your journey ends next to the water fountains outside the restrooms. This mundane spot is where your tired mind decides is good enough refuge to sit, not caring one bit about what you would look like to an observer.
The far away side view of Elvis Presley giving his all on stage and the crowd of people elated below it is more beautiful from back here. Your head leans back against the brick of the wall of the small restroom building. There’s a hope that the act of laying your head back would allow you to take an actual full breath despite the soreness of your throat, a hope that laying your head back would prevent the tears in the corners of your eyes from flowing down and ruining your makeup despite the immense emotion filling your mind.
Stop crying, stop crying, stop crying. There is no reason for the tears. You didn’t die, you didn’t get hurt. But it still hurts. Nothing happened to you, why are you such a scaredy cat? An overdramatic pathetic girl, a jumpy sheep who’s crying wolf, a…
Breathe.
Your view is up and all you see is the stars. It’s a starry night in Florida, the type of starry night that would give Van Gogh the inspiration to paint a masterpiece. The stars are small dots, all could be mistaken for the others accompanying the dark blue. All except for one. One star is larger and burns brighter than the others, if you stare long enough it vibrates in the sky. It shimmers, it gleams, it gives warmth, it gives hope.
For the first time since it was laying on the ground you decide to look at your bracelet, or what was left of it. After opening your fist, besides a few pieces of grass, you see a gold chain split in half. When looking closely at the small diamonds decorating it, you notice that one of them is missing. All of a sudden your lip quivers and your eyes gloss over as if getting the same queue. You glance over at the stage, the one star that can bring you comfort doesn’t even know you are hurting, he isn’t here to protect you. All alone your vision focuses on him with all its might, his moving figure is a little blurry through watery eyes but he’s there and that’s what matters.
The performance takes 5 minutes and 5 hours at the same time. You watched the whole show, your knees up and head resting on crossed arms as the tears dry in your face. It’s when he exits the stage to roaring applause that you get up from your spot on the ground. You know from your time backstage that when Elvis walk’s off out of view from the crowd he is no longer a figure floating on adrenaline, he’s your tired, sweaty best friend who you provide with a water bottle and a hug. You need to see him, you’ve felt alone and abandoned for so long, you need Elvis.
Determinedly, you walk as fast your wobbly legs and painful heels will take you. You are able to easily get past security to get backstage because the man standing in all black guarding the entrance was able to recognize you from when Elvis sent you to the audience earlier. By the time you get to the crowd of crew and band that you’re sure Elvis is in the middle of, your calves are burning with exhaustion. Your eyes move frantically in their search and finally you see him, he has a beautiful glow making him stand out in the pack of people.
You run up as soon as you see him, almost rolling your ankle as you fall onto him, arms enclosing his body with a tight hug. “Elvis!” You thought the tears had run out a while ago but there was something about being in his embrace, feeling his warmth and presence, being filled with his scent that makes every emotion that you experienced alone rise up again inside of you. You sob into his blazer, not letting him go.
At first he’s shocked thinking that fan snuck her way backstage but he hugs regardless, immediately recognizing that it’s you. “Satnin? W-wh-what happened?”
“Oh Elvis, I can’t be out there anymore. It was so scary and there were so many people crowding and I was bout to fall and trip. A-and my clothes are too revealing, they gotta be. People kept looking at me but not the way you look at me, it was real different. I just wanted to be around ya so you could protect m-me but you were performing! I didn’t know what to do…I was all alone. I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”
He’s never seen you this vulnerable, this broken. “Did someone hurt you, baby?”
You pull away just a little to look up at him, your face is puffy and red from crying and Elvis swears you’ve never looked so small. You look so young, cheeks and big eyes reminding him of the little girl he met all those years ago, not the femme fatale prototype he saw in the mirror just a few hours ago. A broken girl in a woman’s clothing. Pure Memphis was in your eyes, reminders of simpler times.
“I was so nervous, Elvis. I just wanted to be with you.”
“Honey, I asked ya a question. No one hurt you out there right? Answer me ‘cause if some bastard put his hands on ya, I’ll kill the son of a bitch.”
“No! No one hurt me. I was just so scared…I was just so scared. And look!” You show him the fragments of what once was bravely in your hand. “I broke it, Elvis. I’m so sorry. You got it just for me and it must’ve been so expensive and it fell off my hand and broke. O-one of the things is gone and I don’t even know if I grabbed every piece of the ground. That’s why you can’t buy me stuff, Elvis, I told ya that. I’m too clumsy for nice, fancy things.”
“Shhhh…shhh, baby. We’re going back to the room. It’s all gonna be okay. Forget the damn bracelet, it don't mean anything to me. You’re alright and that’s all that matters. You’re okay now, you’re safe now.”
Elvis puts an arm around your waist and guides you through the crowd, ignoring everyone who tries to talk to him except for a few words when asks, not asks tells, one of the guys to drive the two of you home. He quickly opens the door to a car, rushing you in with him to head home.
Home being the motel. You two are miles from Memphis , the home your heart longs to see again.
The ride back to the motel is quiet. The most quiet it has ever been when the two of you are around each other. The car drives there fast but the journey home always feels shorter than the trip you took to go. That is what keeps the world spinning, if not, hope would be lost too soon.
Within what seems like the blink of an eye or the very long blink of your tiny little car nap, you arrive at the dimly lit sanctuary. Giving the driver a small “thank you”, you and Elvis get out of the car simultaneously and walk silently to the room assigned for the both of you, he opens the door to let you in first.
Immediately after walking in and locking the door, Elvis takes off his blazer, the button up he's wearing underneath now on full display, and he throws it on a chair. You walk over to the bathroom, a dim shade of yellow filling the room after you turn on the light. The reflection in the mirror was horrifying, there was a stark contrast from how amazing and put together you looked earlier. Your mascara is smudged from tears and you try your best to rub the residue off with your finger. Your cheeks can be easily compared to red apples and your lipstick is in need of a reapply. Aware of the fact that you look like a hot mess but not having the strength to do anything about it, your attention goes back to the broken bracelet that you’ve had in your tight grasp ever since it was picked up from the floor.
Elvis sits down on his bed, rubbing his eyes as if deep in thought. The silence of the room can be described as comfortable only for the fact that it differs from the loud noise of the venue.
Giving up in your attempts to put all of the pieces of the bracelet together on the counter, you sigh and turn around to head to the main bedroom. It’s when you see Elvis that you’re reminded of everything and all the emotions start to well up again.
You have to tell him. Break it to him easily. Make up your mind.
Your mind stays fast and something is on the tip of your tongue, your lips quiver and in an ill attempt to display conviction in your statement, it instead comes out in a broken, quiet, and tear stained whisper,
“I can’t do it anymore, E.”
Elvis looks up, his hands dropping from his face to fall on his knees, his voice shows true confusion at your sudden words, “What?”
“I can’t do this. I can’t, Elvis. It ain’t me.” Your hands gesture to yourself, not only the Elvis-picked outfit but all the tears and tiredness apparent as well.
He shakes his head unseriously as if this is all too ridiculous to be real, “What do you mean it ‘ain’t you’? We’re making it you. You just gotta get used to it.”
“You always say that but it ain’t working, I’m not the type of girl you want me to be. I need to go home, I just wanna go home.” This last statement comes out as almost as plea, like a little kid’s complaint when they don’t want to go to school.
“So you’re just gonna leave me? Just like that?” He decides to stand up, questions coming out of his mouth defensively. You hate hearing the tone of disappointment in his voice, it’s as if you are unjustified, unreasonable.
“I’m not leaving you…”
“You’re leaving me.”
Face to face, you look up at him, tears threatening to roll down your face again at his harsh and direct accusations. “Elvis, I’m so tired, so exhausted. I wanna be here for you, I want to be everything you want…You don’t know how bad I want that, how bad I need ya to be happy with me b-but…”
“You’re going back to Memphis? This is so outta the blue, honey. This is coming from nowhere, you’re happy and all of a sudden you wanna go home.”
“I’m sorry, Elvis. I think it’s best that I go home. There ain’t no place for me here, no purpose for me being here, no spot to fill.”
“Leaving this…”
His voice is firm in his words and his hand moves around the room as if you forget where you were and then he continues, “..is leaving me. My life is different now. You can’t just quit when it gets hard. I need your support, you don’t know how much I need you here with me. Don’t just up and leave. I make sure you’re alright, I buy you all this fancy shit, I accommodate for ya and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I’m doing it for my folks and you. That’s what I’ve always told ya, what I’ve always told myself. It’s for Mama, Daddy, and you. That’s it. All of this ain’t for me, it’s never been. Let me satisfy you. This is your place, that’s the spot you’re filling.”
The sound of your voice raises and your tone has changed to match his in attempts to defend yourself, “Don’t act like I’m abandoning you, Elvis. I’ve supported you ever since I met you. I don’t need fancy things to make me happy, it ain’t about that. I don’t need you spending a dollar on me. I’m just a regular old girl from Memphis and for some reason your mind thinks I’m someone else.”
“You’ve always been you. Ain’t no other girl like you. You know that you’re special, I’ve known ya for so long.” He reassures you as if stating the obvious, something you should know and not be doubting. Something that for some odd reason you have seemed to forget.
“That’s the problem. You’re so focused on what I represent, how I make you feel. I’m not some memento from Memphis that you can carry around in your pocket like spare change. That don’t make me sound like a person. I’m all alone. I’m surrounded by so many people, been places I’ve never stepped foot it in, and I’ve never been so lonely. You don’t give me a second thought. I’m only here when it’s convenient for you, when it’s convenient for me to exist. That ain’t friendship. I’m only here when you’re struggling, I’m struggling, Elvis.”
His voice gets even louder and at this point it’s almost like a contest of who can outdo the other in loudness of volume and truth of defensive statements. “You don’t think I’m lonely? You don’t think it’s overwhelming for me too? Everyone thinks life is all good and dandy for Elvis Presley. Sun is shining all the time when you’re tryna support everyone. It’s all fun and games when you get all the pressure on your shoulders, the attention from everyone, the press hounding ya…”
You can’t help but roll your eyes in annoyance and throw your hands down in exasperation, “Here we go again. You’re the only one going through things. We’re all just planets going around your sun. No one else is allowed to feel? I’m trying to get you to understand what I’m feeling and it’s all about you again.”
The smart choice would be to calm the situation down but your honor can’t let you. To you he is the Elvis you’ve known for years and years, one that isn’t any better than you.
His face gets a deeper shade of red as if you have finally struck a nerve and he points his finger at you accusingly, “You aren’t gonna disrespect me like that. Acting like I’m some selfish bastard.”
“I never said that-” You back up as you realize it has started to get too serious, too real. You’ve never had an argument this momentous and your voice reflects the shock.
“That’s the last thing you’re gonna do, woman. If you wanna spend all your time in Memphis, do that. Live your whole life sitting in that same ole house, I don’t give a damn.” Annoyance seeps out of his voice and you aren't sure if it’s stubbornness or irresponsibility that makes you keep arguing.
“Why am I an extra in your life, Elvis? My whole life revolves around you and you don’t give me the time of day. I hate that I’ve taught myself I’m only good when you’re around. It makes me sick to my stomach. What happened to ‘we’ll always be together?’ We haven’t been for a long time now.”
“Then why do it in the first place? Why let me drag you around if you’re gonna nag and complain about how miserable you are? Why say yes?”
“Because I love you Elvis!” At this moment his face softens immediately.
Your voice breaks into a cry as the strong walls you have built up from the ash have broken down again, “A-and I’m so scared, I’m terrified. Everything’s changing and I’m terrified of losing ya. I wanna make you happy, I want you to love me. But maybe I’m not cut out for it. I’m not good enough for this life.”
He reaches out to hold your hands, “Don’t say that—”
“I wish with every bone in my body that I was but I’m not. I can’t be the girl that you want me to be. Maybe you’ve grown from needing me and I’m still stuck. But if that’s true I gotta sort it out alone, I can’t hold you back.”
In this moment his lips touch yours and you are taken aback for a second from shock, immediately you close your eyes and kiss him back just as passionately. The kiss is years of pent up emotions and years of confessions unsaid.
He pulls away, puts his hands on your hips to stabilize you, and speaks confidently, “I love you, Satnin. I always have and I always will. If I haven’t been showing ya that recently then I’m real stupid. You’re all I want you to be, I beg ya believe me. I don’t know what kinda girl you think you can’t be, but we’ll sort it out.. I’ll make sure we see it through because I love you. I’m in love with you and my biggest regret is not telling you sooner.”
You’re at a loss for a verbal response so your body’s natural instinct takes over and it’s your turn to kiss him, both of your hands cup his face as your lips take ownership of what they’ve always wanted. It’s just as passionate as the kiss you two shared prior, but this one is full of heat. His hands roaming up and down your body feeling anything he can as his lips focus on yours just adds to the friction.
It’s a desire that fills and energizes, a desire that refuses to be tamed just by the touching of lips and moving of mouths. The tension in the room is different from the cold atmosphere of a few minutes ago; it’s dirty, it’s sloppy, it’s sexual. The seconds of kissing turns into a few minutes of a make out session, one that has only occurred before in your fantasies. You’ve both been standing for a while but neither of your legs are tired.
The kiss is only broken when Elvis moves his hand to your ass and after a squeeze he picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as your arms do the same around his neck.
He whispers seductively in a tone you’ve never heard him use with you before, “I’m gonna show you how much I love ya. Just you wait. I wanna make it up to you.”
He carries you over to his bed and places you gently onto the soft sheets. Elvis kneels down on the ground in front of you as you lay, biting your lip in anticipation. His hands go to take off your heels, the ones that were killing your feet earlier but adrenaline dulled the pain. “Don’t want your little sooties to be all sore now.”
You blush light pink at the baby slang for your feet, the softness of his words contrasting from the passionate feelings of this moment.
It’s when he comes back up from his spot on the ground to lean on top of you on the bed, the veins on his arms showing themselves off beautifully as he holds himself up, that you realize the seriousness of what’s about to happen.
His lips move from your mouth, down your chin and to your neck. At first it starts with little ticklish pecks, then sucking on your skin that is sure to leave marks all over you in the morning. It isn’t until the first small moan escapes your mouth that you realize the seriousness of the moment. Your back instinctively arches as he moves to your collarbone; it’s as if your body has known for a while what’s going to happen, what it wants to happen, and your brain has just unfuzzed enough to catch up. He wants to have sex with you and you want to have sex with him too.
The arch in your back gives him the cue to lift you even more up to reach the zipper on the back of your top. Your heart pangs and he lifts his mouth from your skin when he notices the way you shiver at his touch on the small of your back. “I-Is this alright? Are you comfortable with this? I don’t wanna move forward if you aren’t comfy.”
“This is more than alright, Elvis. You can keep going…please.” He nods without saying a word and uses his right and unzips your top seamlessly, it’s like it was meant to be taken off this way. The only non gentle part of this process is him taking the top in his hands and looking at it before throwing the garment across the room. This took you by surprise at first but he did buy it for you, so you suppose it’s his to take off and throw. Before you know it your bra is unclipped as well and the room’s cold air hits your warm chest making you shiver again.
“Wow, honey.” Elvis’ licks his lips as he takes you in. Your breasts move up and down with your breathing. “Can’t believe you’ve been hiding ‘em from me…”
He bends down and gives each of your breasts a long kiss, evoking a small giggle from you. His mind compares your laugh to the most beautiful of melodies.
His eyes bounce back and forth between your giggle-induced bouncing breaths as he begins to talk to them. “She’s been covering yall up? Hiding you two from Elvis? That aint fair ain’t it?”
“Elvis stop that.” You give a small eye roll as the laughter vibrates your whole body and the smile on your face lights up the room.
He smiles as he gives your nipple a small nibble in order to get another reaction from your body before looking up at your eyes again. Your blush reminds him of a pretty picture, “It’s like ya locked me out of heaven.”
You laugh at his exaggeration, “You’re too much.”
“You’re just enough.” He kisses your lips again.
He moves his mouth down your stomach and stops when met with another roadblock: your skirt. He just shakes his head and the zipper is undone faster than the one that was keeping your top together. You lift your ass to help shimmy out of the fabric and with Elvis’ help it rolls down your legs to drop on the ground between his feet.
The sight he sees below him at this moment is one he has only seen in his wet dreams, one he has moaned about when erections snuck up on him, one that makes him get even harder in his pants then he already is.
You lay before him with the cutest shade of pink flushing your face, your lips slightly parted as you stare at him awaiting his next move, your chest fully exposed as if inviting him in, and the only item of clothing still keeping some sort of mystery from his eyes is the cotton white panties on your bottom half. It’s the only thing that he isn’t quick to take off once it gets in his way, it’s like a gift on Christmas. A special present you’ve been anticipating all year, for him longer.
Your blush gets even redder in embarrassment as you assume that he’s looking at the growing wet spot dampening the fabric, staining the sea of innocence. It’s one you can’t explain, a wetness that you only get when around him. One that makes you clamp your legs together subconsciously whenever an innuendo hits the right spot. It’s one that calls for obliviously necessary panty changes when you rush to bathroom expecting your monthly blood, to pull down your pants and find out that the “blood” is a pool of translucency.
“Can I take these off, honey?” His fingers play with the upper band of your underwear restlessly, waiting for permission to get exploring a new world. Lewis and Clark getting ready to explore Louisiana. Settlers waiting to go travel west in the search for gold. Elvis doubts that any gold buried in California is a good comparison to the teasing quality of your snatch against the see through white veil of your panties. He looks at you patiently, you’re the fucking American Dream.
You nod your head shyly at him, still unsure of the fact that you’re about to be truly exposed before him. It’s a vulnerable state in which all humans come. Adam and Eve weren’t aware they were naked until after they sinned and you’re about to eat the apple.
Unexpectedly, Elvis shakes his head at you as if you got an answer wrong in class and he’s trying to lightly break it to you. He will break it to you, firm but encouraging, dominant but soft, “Nuh uh. Gotta use your words, baby. Be a big girl and answer me, I need to hear ya say yes. You usually ain’t got no issue with that. Such a talker and now you’re as quiet as a dormouse?”
“Yes. You can ta-take them off.” Your quiet voice doesn’t beat the dormouse accusations and you can’t help but be embarrassed by your weak stutter but you are all the way sure that you want this. You’ve never wanted anything more.
“Thank you.” Elvis wasn't gonna fight you on that, he was a racing horse ready for the starting gate to open, a hungry tiger waiting to pounce. After hearing the sweetness of your consent, there never was a sweeter sound, he gently but efficiently pulls down your panties, exposing yet another part of your delicate body to the cold air. With the same fate as your black skirt, your panties start to be rolled down your legs but instead of letting them reach the ground, Elvis lifts both of your legs slightly to grab the white fabric and put it in the pocket of his pants. He knows that the pants won’t stay on for much longer but even when they eventually fall to the floor, his party favor will stay secure.
He does a full look over you again from your face down to your pussy, a sight that for a while he thought he’d never get the blessing of seeing in person. A sight that there are no words to describe quite right. His voice is breathless as he speaks to you, “You’re gorgeous.”
You’re too focused on looking at his concentrated face to notice his fingers going to touch your soaked cunt, a high pitched moan of surprise leaves your mouth. Not only surprised at his tender fingers touching the hissing heat, but surprised at how fantastic it feels. The two fingers making contact are the perfect balance of soft and calloused. They go back and forth, exploring your pillowy pink cunt like it’s a new guitar waiting to be tested out. Even with just a few seconds of touch, your arousal coats him welcomingly already. “All this slick is for me? I did this to ya? All this for Lil’ Elvis, he’s a lucky guy.”
“Al-all for you, Elvis. Always for you.”
Elvis in all his experience knows exactly where to go to make you twitch in satisfaction, the tiny bundle of nerves is the sweet spot. His fingers move in a circular motion, his fast pace never tiring. Your moans start to pick up and Elvis swears it’s the best sound he’s ever had the privilege to have heard in his 21 years of living. The moans are soft and breathy for the most part, here and there you let out a deep alto coming from your core.
“Oh, Elvis!” The first yell of his name is like ecstasy for him.
As if suddenly aware where you are, a motel room, not a floating cloud in heaven, you bite your lip to be careful. You can just imagine the weird stares you’d get from people in the morning, especially the ones that know it was your high voice disrupting an otherwise peaceful late night.
As if noticing those satisfying, constient noises of pleasure being muffled, rather terribly, Elvis looks up from your distracting pussy for the first time in a while. His fingers never stop their circles on your clit. “Let me hear ya. Don’t keep those sweet noises from me, darling. Don’t ever do that.” You're amazed at how he can multitask, a small reprimand comes out of his mouth while his fingers give the most pleasing feeling in the world, all simultaneously.
Remembering faintly behind the wispy clouds fogging your mind the loud sounds that you’ve heard from other guests while staying in random rooms around the country, your concerns manage to string together a sentence. “Th-the walls are thin. People can’t hear m-me.”
People can hear you. They can hear you well, what you meant is that you don’t want people to hear you but the words didn’t quite come out that way.
“You want em to hear ya moaning and screaming? Gonna up the ante, doll?”
“N-no, no! Don’t wanna…don’t want them.”
“Oh. Well t-those folks don’t matter none. Nothing matters right now but you and me. Me and you.”
To drive this idea into your mind, to take your worrying head off of consequences, one of Elvis’ fingers makes his way inside of you gently. Your walls naturally squeeze around his finger and his cock pulses in his pants in pure jealousy, Lil’ Elvis getting impatient for his turn. His long finger curls just a bit before sitting still inside of you for a second, your button hissing at being left abandoned. He moves his finger in and out of you gently as he speaks, “Jeez, baby. When was the last time someone touched ya? You’re as tight as a virgin.”
You freeze in that moment, for you are a virgin and he senses this immediately from your hesitation, the way your bright eyes widen and long eyelashes flutter as if a secret just became uncovered. From your reaction you’d think he started fucking you already. “Elvis…I-I…”
“Oh. You are…? A w-while ago you were with that…thought you were….Never mind that. I know I gotta give ya that extra attention now. I’m gonna get ya prepped for me, honey. Ju-just wish ya would’ve spoken up and let a guy a know…It’s a big thing for ya pretty head to keep secret.”
Having a bigger duty and responsibility on his shoulders after learning that you’ve never taken a cock before, Elvis knows he’s gotta take extra time with you and he has any complaints about that. Even if you weren’t a virgin, he would’ve been mindful with you anyways for it was the gentleman thing to do. Elvis Presley might be a horny man, a horny man who’s cock wants nothing more to be buried inside of you fucking you senseless, but he’s not selfish son of a bitch.
He wiggles and works a second finger inside of you, your eyebrows furrow and eyelids close at the sensation. As he sets his pace inside of your pussy, your moans get louder as if building up to something. You make no attempt to hold them back, but even if you tried there’s no way you could for the pleasure was too strong.
“Elvis! O-oh…yes, yes!”
“There you go…Let all that shit go, all those bad thoughts. Atta girl.”
You feel something build deep inside of your lower stomach, it’s like a fire being fed. When Elvis feels your walls start to clench, he stops and immediately slips out of you. It’s quick and easy since you are so slick.
What you didn’t expect more than his touch leaving you was an anger building inside of you. Your brows furrowed in confusion and your voice was quick to implore him for answers, “What the….? Why’d you stop? You can’t just—”
He chuckles, making you more annoyed. “Shhh….Imma give ya what you want, Imma give ya everything ya need.”
In his kneeling position at the edge of the bed he adjusts a little and moves his head down so it’s face to face with your cunt. “Such a needy girl with an even greedier pussy. Greedy for something it don’t even know.”
You whine as your body shimmy’s down further, desperate to meet his mouth. He puts his hands on your thighs, opening your legs more and keeping you stable at the same time. “Both of you are whining for me, huh? I’ll take care of ya.”
In that moment he kisses your cunt with a small peck and your mind flips on itself. His laugh vibrates your pussy. He’s amused by the fact that if that tiny kiss made you jump you had a bigger surprise waiting for you and oh he couldn’t wait to show you. He’s the only one who knows what’s coming next.
Elvis’ mouth makes contact with your cunt again, eating you out with unending strokes of vigor and passion like it’s what he was put on this earth to do, he’s close to the finish line of something he’s been dreaming of accomplishing for a long time: helping you reach your finish line.
Your legs bend around his head, encasing him in paradise. Your left hand meets and intertwines with his right one, holding hands is such an innocent gesture at a time like this but it’s so perfect. In contrast, your right hand grips the sheets with whitening knuckles. “Yes, Elvis! Just like that….Oh Lord.”
His tongue has no mercy as it devours you, he’s like a starving animal. Your hips, also chasing, buck up to meet his mouth halfway. He works you perfectly and it isn’t long before the storm starts to brew in your lower tummy again, like lightening is waiting to strike.
“Please, please, oh please, please.” You don’t even know exactly what you’re pleading for, just some release, some finish.
“I’m…I’m...oh my God.” Your words serve as a strong caffeine as Elvis starts to suck on your sensitive clit and that’s when the band breaks and you reach euphoria. A wave of satisfaction floods your body like the ocean, it's a feeling so foreign but so instinctual, new but always meant to be. Your moans are easily the loudest they’ve been so far and your legs start to shake intensely. The room seems to spin around you as you start to see the stars, the same ones you saw decorating the night sky outside. Elvis licks and sucks you through your high, tasting the sweet honey of your release on his face as your legs close tightly around his head, making him go deeper.
Moving your hips against him to ride out your finish, your body feels limp as you try to catch your breath. Elvis lifts his head and looks at you with a grin, an attempt to lift your hand to wipe his face is a failure since your hand shakes as soon as you bring it up and ends up falling right back on the sheets. He licks his lips and comes back up to kiss you.
His grin is boyish as if proud that he was the one to make you feel that way. The first man to give you an orgasm, the first man to make you writhe and moan, the first man who’s name is screamed by that parted mouth of yours. Hopefully the only man to ever make you do those things. His mind will remember this in the future when met with any of your smartass remarks, eye rolls, or teasing. Is it wrong for him to love that? Too damn bad he’d say.
He whispers in your ear, thick southern drawl and all, “You feel better, mhm? You were being so good for me, honey. You taste like some honey too, no doubt.”
Your voice is as shaky as your legs were just a second ago, “I l-love you, Elvis.”
“I love you too, baby.”
A need to give back fills your heart and you somehow manage in this jelly-like state to sit up, your hands going towards Elvis’ pants. When you cup the hard bulge in his trousers, his head falls back with a groan. “F-fuck…see what you do to me?” You nod, amazed at the fact that you are the reason for his arousal. When he unzips his pants and pulls down his underwear with them, he is as hard as a rock, standing at attention because of you.
After taking off his bottom garments, he kneels on the sheets of the bed and goes to unbutton his white dress shirt as you stare at his cock. Assuming that this is the first one you have ever seen, he isn’t all anxious but is instead proud of Lil’ Elvis and the gawking reaction he is getting from you.
The only time you had seen a penis was in middle school sex education class but that was only a drawing of one. It was 9am and the black and white non-detailed sketch of the male anatomy was met with giggles by your immature classmates. For you it was met with a yawn considering the time was 9 in the morning and your only objective in that time slot is to stay awake.
Fast forward to the present day sitting in front of a hard cock, the one belonging to Elvis Presley, was nothing short of fascinating. This one differed in some ways from the one you were shown years back in class, not only was it more detailed and quite a bit bigger, but there was extra skin covering the tip. This observation interests you and with curiosity getting the best of your racing mind, you bring your hand up to wrap your fingers around the thick of his length and pull just a little bit of skin back gently with a soft up and down motion.
When you do this, your glimpse at a pink tip and a bead of liquid forming in the slit was just a small glance because Elvis twitched around you immediately, a small moan. In fear that you’ve hurt the man you love, your hand immediately draws back as if he was a stone that burnt you.
“I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt ya, E. I should’ve asked, I really should’ve. You asked before—”
“Honey, honey!” He cuts your worries off. “It’s alright, you didn’t hurt me. I-It’s ju-just felt really good. The way you got all shaky when I kissed ya all nice? It’s the same thing.”
“Oh.” Just a simple motion would help him reach that dream-like state you were in just a few minutes ago? It seems like women were more complicated.
You weren’t oblivious to the fact that many women took cock inside their mouths to pleasure their men. You’ve overheard Elvis and his Memphis Mafia talk about women “giving them head” which you have assumed is a girl making them fall apart with just her head. There’s only one hole on the face big enough to please so your mind decided to fit the puzzle pieces together on its own, unsure if your puzzle matched the truth.
If you knew how to perform this critically acclaimed “head giving” you would in an attempt to satisfy your already watering mouth, but in fear of the unknown you decided to stick to what you’ve been told feels good. You decide to keep pumping him, up and down, up and down. His voice is breathy with encouraging praises. “J-just like that, baby. So good for me. Making me feel so nice…so nice.”
It’s pure vulnerability sitting across from each other fully naked, you pleasing him right after he pleased you. It’s when your fingertip goes to swipe at the beads decorating the slit of his red tip that he stops you with a hiss.
“You’re gonna finish me quick if ya keep on. Now Lil’ Elvis may not mind either way, you’ll find out he’s a horny thing, but it’s better if I’m in ya. I wanna be inside ya. Lay down, honey.”
You do as he says and lay down obediently, trying to mentally prepare yourself by taking deep breaths.
Part of him wanted to take you from behind, fucking you fast and rough until tears form on your face, tears of pleasure this time. But knowing what he knows about your lack of past experience and wanting to see your face as you take him for the first time, he’ll have you lay down comfortably. He has no problem at all either way, he’d even be pleased if the night ended right here without him coming to that sweet finish. A day ended after eating you out is a day well spent in his book.
“Imma go real slow. It might sting a bit cause you’re all fresh and new down there but you’re a big girl. My strong little satnin, I know you can do it. You’ll take me.”
“Okay.” You remember his demand earlier to use your words to respond and you do so.
He leans over you, getting in a good position to enter. While rubbing his tip against your cunt in preparation, edging you both in the process, he swears that he could finish right there easily.
You look down at the spot where you are to connect with amazement. Knowing for a fact that Elvis is anything but a virgin, you trust his skill and watch his process. It seems planned out prefectures and oh how glad you are to have a perfect man. No one on earth is perfect but Elvis Presley is so perfectly Elvis Presley. The things he excels at never disappoint.
You feel the burning plunge of his entry and immediately both hands go to grip as much of the white sheets as they can. Once he has the tip in his eyes go up and down interchangeably, watching both your face and your pussy while you take him. It’s better than any movie.
He continues on his slow journey inside of you. Meanwhile, you’re a pain you’ve never felt before, no way things are supposed to go up there. No way things are designed specifically to go up there. If they were, why is it so big?
His voice is breathy and his eyebrows furrow in concentration. “F-fuck…Tight ass pussy. Sucking me in.”
Your groan is a mix of pleasure at his words and of pain at the impaling you’re experiencing. For a split second you think about looking away, like not watching the needle go in you at the doctors office, but you can’t.
He’s only about half way in when you convince yourself that there is no way you can take more.
“It hurts like hell, Elvis. S-stop, just for a second. I need to breathe..I can’t breathe.” He halts the second you say stop and his attention is strictly on your face, his eyes full of concern. Tears start to form in the corner of your eyes as your breath starts to pick up.
“Breathe, baby. It’s alright. Take your time.” The only thing he wants more than bottoming out is for you to be comfortable. He wants to go deeper, he wants to fuck you until you can’t remember your name but his love and concern for you comes first always.
“I don’t think I can, Elvis. It’s too big, it’s huge.” These comments come not as an attempt to enlarge his ego (they are in fact doing that) but of actual concern for the state of your situation.
“Shhh…it’s gonna fit. God didn’t make men and women not fit with one another, he made us perfect. You just gotta relax or else you’ll just tighten up again. Don’t mess up our progress, honey, it’ll hurt even more.”
It’s hard to relax when you’ve got the long lost cousin of metal pipe piercing into your body. You don’t say that aloud though. With a deep breath you continue, “Okay, you can keep going….just slow.”
He heeds your instructions and continues plunging into you with small rolls of his hips until he bottoms out with a loud grown, officially balls deep inside of you. You two moan simultaneously as he starts moving in and out carefully. Beautiful waves of pain and pleasure perfectly balanced move through your body.
“Fuck. Just like that.” Truth was you weren’t doing anything but moaning and arching your back, but that was all he needed. Just your body responding to his.
Your hips going up involuntarily to meet his thrusts is a signal for Elvis to go faster and that he does. He moves deeper and harder inside of you, one hand showing its veins as it grips the soft sheets next to your head and the other gripping hard onto the bone of your hip.
“Oh my God, Oh my God…” You gasp and bite your lip. Everything about this is so vulgar but so beautiful. Two beautiful bodies focused on nothing but making love. A moment like this is something you’d dream about at night and then in the morning sun pray to God for forgiveness from such thoughts. Now you are yelling up for mercy in a different way.
He leans down to whisper in your ear, his rhythmic thrusts never slowing. “It’s Elvis, honey. I’m the one doin’ it to ya.” You moan from the vibrations of his voice against your skin. His lips move smoothly to your neck, sucking on your skin to mark you as his own. He’s the one who ruined you and he wants the whole world to know.
As he makes a masterpiece of your neck, your hands grab onto his back, fingernails sure to leave red tracks. You’re both making your presence known on eachother’s bodies. Your cunt makes its satisfaction known with loud gushes going hand in hand with your loud moans. There is no vibrato left inside of you.
“Elvis! Oh yes!”
The man orchestrating it all lifts his wet pink lips from your collarbone, breath heavy. “So perfect. You’re made for me, I’ve always known you were made to be mine.”
“Mmmm….”
“I’m so cl-close….I’m gonna….” He wants to finish inside you, it would be his first time coming inside of a woman unprotected and he wants that special woman to be you. But he can’t. He knows deep down that it would be one of the most irresponsible decisions he could make. It would be a selfish decision.
It wouldn’t be in your freshly-fucked best interest, it wouldn’t be in his new careers best interest, It wouldn’t be in the best interest of the fans having to wait for Elvis Presley to get off of paternity leave.
If only he could fill you up without getting you pregnant. That’ll have to be a fantasy between him and his fist.
Quickly, he pulls out of you to prepare for his impending release giving his cock a few pumps to try to replace the warmth from your pulsing walls with his hand. Finally, a stream of white liquid comes bursting out of the slit of his and you watch with short breathed awe as his immediately head leans back, mouth moaning your name over and over like a prayer.
You’re the one who made him feel so good that he reached the clouds. Knowing that it’s Elvis’ turn to see the starry sky, experiencing the same state of bliss that you were able to encounter earlier, makes your heart so happy.
Your belly now is feeling a different type of warmth. it’s his release making a mess of your stomach, spurting like paint all over you. As soon as it’s all out of his system, Lil’ Elvis giving the show its last encore, the man in front of you cups your face into his hands and kisses you. He rolls to lay his body next to yours, your lips now the only parts still connecting.
Elvis pulls away and both of you try to catch your breaths.
“I love you, Satnin.” He whispers softly.
You respond back just as gently, “I love you too.”
That was…an experience. If you got this far thank you, thank you, thank you. I hope you enjoyed. My inbox is always open for questions, comments, and concerns. I take requests but there is no guarantee I’ll get to them. (they’ll probably give me inspiration to write more often though). Call me, beep me, if you wanna reach me. Adieu my loves. ✨
#not beta read#elvis#elvis presley#elvis fans#50s elvis#elvis x reader#1950s#fanfic#elvis presley fic#elvis presley fanfiction#elvis presley x reader#elvis presley x you#elvis imagine#elvis fic#elvis aaron presley
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Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of August. We really hope you enjoy this list and that you give these fics a lot of love. Happy reading!
1) Untamed Desire | Explicit | 1333 words
Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.
Harry isn‘t happy with the new securities work etiquette.
2) Bet On It | Explicit | 2945 words
Note: The main pairing in this fic is Louis/OMC.
“We should make a bet,” Louis says out loud, waiting for Dante to look up from his tablet and see Louis’ pouty lips.
“Not a fucking chance.”
3) The Best Of Friends | Not Rated | 3226 words
This is mostly just narrative. So if that's not for you...well too bad. Oh, and top!Harry Bottom! Louis. So fucking long.....
4) Broken Nest | Mature | 3858 words
Louis hopes no one touches his nest, and when someone does, Harry is there to save him.
5) We Didn't Get It Right But, Love, We Did Our Best | General Audiences | 4965 words
“I can't be arsed to call Harry, it’s his fault” He said, a petulant huff to his tone that would have had Oli smirking to himself on a normal day. “This only happened because I was climbing on the counter to get the bath stuff he keeps where only his obnoxiously long arms can reach.”
And really, Louis deserved the feeling that almost winded him when he went to show how he’d had to stretch. The sudden movement felt like ripping a hole through Louis’ skin, and if that hadn’t shut the omega up the genuine fear on his best friend’s face finally did. Damn karma, damn his stupid little animated hands.
6) Snow Storm Rut | Mature | 5560 words
Request: So basically Harry, Louis, Liam, Zayn, and Niall were chilling at a picnic until it started snowing so they all went home. Louis was driving with Harry when they got a text that the storm was so heavy they needed to put the car next to the road. Suddenly, Harry felt his rut coming and needed an omega.
7) Wildest Dreams | Teen & Up | 17383 words
When Harry saw Louis at the Met Gala, it was love at first sight. Except for the fact that Louis has a boyfriend. Louis is head over heels for his beloved boyfriend, he’s sure they are gonna marry one day. But will Harry change all of that?
8) Only the Brave | Not Rated | 20032 words
He can do this.
That’s the phrase Louis’ repeating nonstop, like a mantra that will help keep him upright and fighting. He can do this. He has to believe he can do this, or he’ll drop to the floor, exhausted, dead, or whatever, and he refuses to make his efforts go to waste like that. He’s a warrior, he has what it takes to help defeat the enemy. He just needs to make it to the City, and he’ll be fine.
9) Science & Faith | Mature | 36442 words
Louis Tomlinson is a science major who's dedicated his life to proving that love doesn't actually exist.
Harry's the philosophy major determined to prove him wrong.
10) I Would Rather Go Blind | Mature | 67788 words
"I would rather go blind" is a heartfelt coming-of-age story set in 1960s England, where societal expectations clash with personal identity, and a young man named Henry embarks on a transformative journey at Oxford University.
Harry Styles, the son of a renowned lawyer from a traditional and affluent family, steps onto the prestigious grounds of Oxford with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. Caught between the weight of his family's expectations and his own desire for self-discovery, Harry seeks solace and understanding amidst the bustling student life.
It is in this unfamiliar world that Harry crosses paths with Louis Tomlinson, an enigmatic and free-spirited fellow student. Louis possesses an intriguing blend of charisma, wit, and fearlessness that captivates Harry from the moment they meet. Drawn to Louis's magnetic personality, Harry finds himself irresistibly pulled into a realm of adventure, rebellion, and a newfound sense of liberation.
Set against the backdrop of a transformative era for LGBTQ+ rights, "I would rather go blind" explores the struggles, triumphs, and personal growth of a young man grappling with his sexual identity in a time of societal conservatism.
12) Save Me (From Myself) | Explicit | 159327 words
The problem with being friends with Liam Payne was that he had a lot of friends... and forced them to be around each other.
When they finished high school, both Louis and Harry were equally relieved that they wouldn't have to tolerate each other constantly or whatever it was that they did.
For five years, it worked out perfectly. They'd only had to see each other a handful of times.
Unfortunately, Liam had to go and get engaged, ask them to both be groomsmen, and then go full groomzilla on their arses. With just twelve weeks to plan the 'perfect' destination wedding and throw every ridiculous pre-wedding celebration Liam and his fiancée stumble across, it was safe to say they were firmly back in each other's lives.
And no one could have predicted that was exactly what they needed.
Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.
You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.
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