#until i reached like the second drawing & my laptop broke & after i got it back i wasnt in the mood to draw anymore lol

[binxyu]

Jungkook was meant to be just a guilty pleasure. Not your guilty pleasure, but a guilty pleasure. You knew never to fall in love with a man that thought loyalty was showing up on time. He was everything you never needed, but here you were. Your fingers pressed on the trigger that would start the flame of pain.

>>Pairing: Jeon Jungkook (dom) x fem!reader (sub) | fuckboy!jk x witch!reader

>>Word Count: 7.5k

>>Genre: Mini Series / Smut & Angst

>>Warnings/Kinks: Arguments, breast play, creampie, cum play, disloyalty, degrading, exhibitionism, fingering, hair pulling, marking, oral (receiving), praise, unprotected sex, and witchcraft

Jungkook was too beautiful for his own good.

From his pouty lips and sharp jaw line to his starry eyes. The man was perfection.

Even you had fallen for him, a woman that stopped believing in love.

But, all you could do now was remember the times you had together as the fire slowly burns in front of you.

As your love for Jeon Jungkook disappeared into nothingness.

Your fingers typed away at the keyboard, writing the second of three essays you had due. It was nearing the end of the semester and, while you were ecstatic at the mere thought of summer vacation, the stress of exams was looming over you.

“Can you look over this paragraph for me?”, you peeked up over your laptop and nodded, moving your own device out of the way to make room for Namjoon’s. Kim Namjoon was a journalist in the making, a man that knew exactly how to put events into words. He was quite different from you, but study sessions together were always eventful. You were the perfect person to correct his grammar mistakes or to help add detail to his work and he was the perfect person to help explain a certain historical detail you may have missed.

Studying religions was what you had decided was your interest considering your unique practice. You enjoyed learning about the beliefs of people centuries ago but the facts could get scrambled in your brain and that’s where Namjoon came in. He almost seemed to have a never ending timeline in his brain.

“I’d add more emphasize on Jungkook. He did beat the record after all”, you quickly realized when you read the paragraph that he was writing for the school paper again. Despite your attempts to persuade the man that he could do much better with his time, he continued to write for it.

“That’s true. Wait, how did you know about that?”, you let out an amicable chuckle. Of course Namjoon would assume you did not know. Just because you despised sports did not mean you were deaf. The whole school had been talking about the student since the track meet. While you couldn’t remember the exact record he beat, it was still a record.

“People talk”, you shrugged and Namjoon nodded. It was peaceful for a moment as you went back to typing, managing to push aside your emerging migraine. Your body was begging for a good nap, but you had to get this done. You were, among less appealing qualities, a hard worker. Perhaps it was due to the pressure put on you as a child or maybe it was because that diploma was just out of reach. Either way, nothing was going to get in the way of your future.

And, like the biggest fuck you from the universe, Jeon Jungkook walks in.

Yet, you hadn’t realized and kept typing until Namjoon cursed loudly, drawing you out of your world.

“Are you okay?”, your voice was soft before your eyes met the issue. Oh, poor clumsy Namjoon.

He had spilt his coffee all over his shirt, staining the freshly new white blouse he had worn. You couldn’t help but laugh as you dug in your bag for a napkin.

“Don’t bother, it’s too much for a napkin. I’ll go to the restroom. Be right back”, you gave him a brief nod and a thumbs up. Still, you got up with your little pack of napkins and tried to clean up the remaining coffee staining into the table. The librarian is sure to kill you both if it does end up staining the wood. Standing back to examine your work, you almost screamed.

Standing by your laptop was a tall figure with the most sinister smirk you’ve ever seen.

Jeon fucking Jungkook spilt your coffee all over your notes and laptop.

Your mouth hung open for a moment before fury overtook the shock. You stomped up to the broadly built man and yes you didn’t believe in violence as a solution but all you wanted to do was slap the smirk right off his gorgeous face.

“Why did you do that?”, you also wanted to yell but the librarian was already eyeing the table and you couldn’t draw attention to the mess.

“Because I like to watch you suffer, sourpuss”, how have you not killed the man in front of you? You had no idea. Because that name infuriated you.

You knew it was the student’s way of messing with you, wanting to strike that minuscule nerve inside of you. No one else believed you could get angry but Jungkook knew you could. Mostly because he had caused that anger.

“And why is that? Because Jimin told you another lie about me?”, Jeon Jungkook was so impossibly similar to Park Jimin that it was uncanny who he had learned his traits from. Truth be told, you had the smallest crush on the man in front of you during freshmen year. He was so affectionate, caring, and friendly back then.

But, instead of ending up with the sweet heartthrob, you had ended up with Jimin for that year and the next.

Starting out, he was simply a popular boy and loved you with his whole heart. But, time went by and his true colors shun through like the sunlight through your irritatingly useless blinds. He was a playboy. An awfully good one at that for you to have never noticed the extra pairs of undergarments that laid on his floor when you slept over at his dorm.

He cheated, but he blamed it all on you and even Jeon Jungkook hates your guts because you were sure Jimin had told him exactly what he had told most of your friends. That you had broken his heart with your “horrifying” witchcraft and that you were dangerous. It explained why so many students asked to see your devil shrine the next day or tried to barge into your dorm to look at what Jimin talked about.

The most ironic thing was that you had never used magick around the man and you barely used it to begin with. You supposed it was for good reason considering that happened the first time you told someone about it.

“Jimin doesn’t lie. He’s never lied to me and I’m sure you’re well aware of what you did”, his finger jabbed harshly above your breast, just slightly lower than your collarbone. Among many things, Jungkook was dense and forgetful. You noticed that quickly when you started spotted reminders written on his fingers or palm. Just like the little note saying “library 7pm” was written on the finger jabbing you.

Unless the track star had another reason to be in the library he never visited, he wrote that down just to catch you in time.

“Tell me, Jeon. What did I do?”, you tilted your head and moved away from him, realizing the coffee was now leaking onto the floor. You desperately wished Namjoon would hurry up and get back to help you.

“You broke his heart. Using magick or something”, you bit your lips in annoyance and turned around to face him.

“Or something? Jungkook, I never did anything to Jimin. I know you won’t believe it because you look up to him like some god, but he cheated on me. He broke my heart”, you jabbed back, hitting the same spot he hit you, “and, if you haven’t noticed, Jimin doesn’t seem heartbroken, does he?”. If he dared to say yes you may have to use that horrifying magick Jimin lied about because your ex was anything but heartbroken. He was with a new woman almost every night and, even with this knowledge, they lined up to be with him. Who could deny the charming Park Jimin?

Finally, Jungkook shook his head, his curly black hair bouncing as he did the movement. If he wasn’t such a nuisance, you might’ve wished you could run your fingers through it. It looked so fluffy.

“Then, leave me alone. It’s been years of your torment and I’m tired of it”, you sighed and slung your bag over your shoulder after shoving your slightly wet laptop into it, walking out of the library after sending a text to Namjoon that you had felt bad because no one really knew about your fights with Jungkook and Namjoon would surely try to beat his ass if he found out about it.

Leaving the coffee on the table was a bold move but a part of you hoped that the asshole would clean it up. It was his mess after all. Not your’s.

“You’re coming to the track meet, right?”, the voice startled you and you sat up on your bed, making direct eye contact with Kim Taehyung. The only guy with a key to your dorm.

“Tae, I love you but you know I do not do sports”, you grumbled and flopped back onto your bed. Your classes had you beat and the need for a nap was too great to give up. Even if it was for your best friend.

“I know but it would mean so much if you were there”, don’t do it. Don’t do it.

You did it.

You made direct eye contact with those big puppy eyes Taehyung always used to get his way. You had fallen victim once again.

Which was why you had ended up in the cold, shivering as you watched the team run around the track for what felt like an eternity.

Taehyung had done great considering he barely moved before the season but who really stood out was Jungkook. His back muscles were only moments away from ripping through the flimsy shirt he was wearing and sweat was coating his hair. He was aware of how good he looked. He always was. He even was ballsy enough to wink at one of the girls screaming his name in the crowd.

Thankfully, the pleasant bliss that was drinking kept your mind off how irritated you were. You had snuck in a beer to drink (not that everyone else didn’t) and the alcohol loosened you up a bit.

After the meet was over, a sweaty Taehyung was clinging to you like a massive koala. He was high off adrenaline and couldn’t decide whether he wanted to cuddle or jump around.

“Tae, take this before you pass out on top of me”, you handed him a water and he gratefully took it, still leaning against you as he chugged down the drink.

Taehyung and you were polar opposites. He was an athlete, quite dorky, a great singer, and was overly optimistic. You, on the other hand, liked to keep to yourself, was not the best of singers, and always stuck to the reality of things. Even if you could manipulate that reality the tiniest bit.

“Let’s get you home”, you let the man lean his weight on you tiredly as you started to walk towards the exit of the field.

“Sourpuss, I need to talk to you”, that voice was definitely not the one you needed to hear when you were this tired and already agitated. What does a girl have to do to spend time in her bed?

“I’m a little busy if you haven’t realized”, you gestured to Taehyung, who was breathing directly on your neck and nuzzling his nose against the skin. It wasn’t an odd gesture considering your close friendship but his face was so cold it send goosebumps down your spine.

“I’ll help”, Jungkook offered, quickly coming to your rescue by crouching down and getting Tae on his back. The man grumbled but was happy to take the ride considering it was less soreness for his legs to endure the next day.

The Jeon Jungkook helping? What a trip.

“What do you want?”, you winced at how rude it sounded. Sure, Jungkook most definitely deserves said rudeness, but he was helping you.

“I’m sorry”, you legitimately thought you were hearing things and turned your head to look at him, stopping in your tracks.

“Can you say that again? I don’t think I heard you correctly”, the athlete groaned before turning to look at you, frustration evident on his face.

“I’m sorry. You were right about Jimin. He’s been talking shit behind my back for months and I had no idea”, if it wasn’t for your “told you so” attitude, you would’ve felt sorry for him. Jimin was one of his closest friends after all.

“Hate to say I told you so but”, he glared at you to shut up and you quickly did. His glare was so cold that a shiver went up your spine.

“Sorry, it was a joke. Jimin is really manipulative so don’t let him bring you down”, you reassured him, even bringing your hand up to pat his shoulder. By the way he flinched away, you would’ve assumed your hand was made of lava.

Noted. Jungkook hates being touched.

“I assumed so much about you and that was immature of me”, the man smiled softly at you. It felt like arrows pierced your heart. He had such a cute smile for an asshole. Like a bunny.

“It’s fine. Lots of people assume things about me”, you shrugged as you both started walking again, Taehyung looking down at you to make sure you’re okay. He was like your protective older brother and you couldn’t be more thankful to have him around.

“But they shouldn’t. So what if you follow a different religion? It doesn’t mean you’re evil”, that was probably the first time someone agreed with your practices besides Taehyung and Namjoon (mostly because he understood it better than others).

“Thank you for saying that. It means a lot”, you finally smiled back at him, sending his heart right into his chest as his heartbeat picked up. Needless to say, he adored your smile.

“I hate to ask this of you but could you tutor me on Epidemiology? I regret ever taking it and I’ll pay you”, you were wide-eyed with shock to say the least. You didn’t expect Jungkook to go out of his way to learn. Especially, not with you.

“Sure, you can join Namjoon and I in the morning”, you nodded before you saw the way Jungkook’s nose crinkled up in displeasure.

“What? What’s wrong with that?”, he sighed in response to the question as you both reached your dorm building. You’d just let Tae stay with you for the night.

“Namjoon hates my guts. We’re way too different. Besides, aren’t you two dating? I don’t want to be some third wheel”, Jungkook almost sounded disgusted at the idea, probably imagining you making out with Namjoon in front of him.

“I’m not dating him. He’s just the only other intelligent male I can tolerate”, he seemed to relax once you finished speaking but there was still tenseness evident in his shoulders which wasn’t due to the large man on his back.

“I still don’t get along with him despite the fact that he writes about me all the time. He once yelled at me for cheating and wrote an article about it”, that was a slap right to your face. Right, Jungkook was a player and he could throw your feelings aside like one of his cigarettes. Do not get attached.

“Well, don’t cheat”, you said because, let’s be real, it’s the truth. You unlocked the door and helped Taehyung off of his back.

“Bye Koo, thanks again”, your words were quick and you kicked the door closed with your shoe, your hands full thanks to the oversized man child clinging onto you.

Koo. He liked that.

Weeks had ticked by and, somehow, Jungkook had managed to get your number. Honestly, Namjoon probably slipped it out or Taehyung gave it to him. According to Tae, the man had been oddly friendly to him and they were (borderline) friends now. They played video games together, practiced together, and even barged into your place for snacks together.

Great. Now you had two man-children to take care of and feed. It was definitely taking a chunk out of your paycheck each week to get extra snacks for the two. They ate like starving animals whenever they came over. A small part of you even thought it was just to piss you off even more.

Jungkook finally managed to get you to agree for a tutoring session with him. Just one. If this one went well then maybe you would agree to more.

The only sad thing about the session was that it was scheduled to happen right after your last class on Friday in your previous dorm. The dorm you had just finished cleaning up since the last time the two adult toddlers had destroyed it.

Surprisingly, when you had woken up one morning, Jungkook was still there. You assumed he and Tae were too drunk to get back to their own dorms and had decided to just sleepover at your’s. It was quite annoying if you were to be honest, but the way Koo looked actually interested in your religion was enticing.

He didn’t look scared or disgusted when he looked at your little collection of crystals on your desk or the jar resting on your end table sealed with candle wax. If anything, he actually looked amused or even impressed.

“I’ll pick you up after class. I can’t believe you don’t drive and walk to your dorm every day”, Jungkook shook his head as he walked beside you. Coincidentally, your last classes were next to each other but you were shocked to hear him offer to give you a ride.

“Don’t judge me, Mr. Playboy. I just have a fear of hitting someone. Have you seen the lunatics at this campus? They will run out into traffic for fun”, the man chuckled wholeheartedly at the pout on your lips. Plus, your joke was actually pretty accurate. Even he had almost hit a drunk idiot when trying to get back to his dorm late one night.

“Okay, that’s fair. So, you okay with me driving you?”, you nodded cautiously. While Jungkook was guaranteed to know every path to your dorm by now, you were still guarded. Being in that tight of a space with him was going to be difficult.

No, you don’t get those so-called “butterflies” when you were with him. Honestly, those butterflies were typically a bad sign to you. Feeling sick because you loved someone sounded a bit odd and almost contradictory.

You actually found yourself with more powerful emotions than anything. If Jungkook made you angry, you were angry. If he made you happy, you were happy.

Everything just felt so much stronger when you were around him. Thankfully, he almost always made you happy. He made you laugh because, once he discovered that beautiful sound, he couldn’t get enough.

So, after your class, you met him out in the hall and he walked you to his car. Now you realized how such an undetermined man got into college.

He was filthy rich.

Sitting there in the parking spot was a brand new Mercedes Benz. Its black color almost matched the distinct leather jacket that he decided to wear today. It very much screamed Jeon Jungkook.

However, it did not scream you whatsoever. You were almost afraid to get near it.

“Hop in. My grade isn’t getting any lower”, he opened the door for you and you weren’t sure if it was because you were friends, or whatever the fuck you two were, or if it was because he wanted a discount.

That’s not fucking happening. He’s already stolen plenty of money through snacks from your cabinets.

Meekly, you got into the vehicle, immediately buckling your seatbelt as if it was going to hurl itself into motion at any moment. Jungkook shut the door and went around to get into the drivers’ seat. Apparently he trusted his own driving so much that he never wore a seatbelt (Namjoon would’ve had a stroke if he was told that) and he drove with one hand (scratch that- make it two strokes).

Despite those things, he was an actual good driver. You felt safe and he drove the speed limit. Maybe it was just because you were in the car with him?

Getting out of the luxurious leather seats proved to be a hassle considering you knew your seats in your dorm were no where near as comfortable. You could sleep in that passenger seat without a care in the world compared to your own bed. Still, you forced yourself to get out and you two went up to your dorm. Jungkook is way too familiar with the place now considering he barely talks to you. It’s your place and, yet, he comes here for Tae.

“Alright, what unit do you need help on?”, you asked softly as you took the needed supplies out of your bag. You actually already took Epidemiology. It had nothing to do with your major but it was interesting to you. Who wouldn’t want to learn about the science of the world’s biggest killer: disease?

Jungkook simply looked at you, blinking a few times and pressing his tongue into his cheek in that nervous habit you realized he had.

“Oh- for fucks sake, Koo”, you grumbled as you realized how long of a process this was going to be.

It had been months since you began tutoring the student and, finally, there was progress.

Standing proudly with his shoulders back was Jeon Jungkook holding a test with a big number ‘92’ on it in red ink. Your heart swelled with pride.

“I passed! This was the exam review test so I’ll pass the exam, right?”, you smiled brightly as you looked at his excited eyes. You never thought Jungkook would ever be excited over passing a class but you can’t judge people by their covers, right?

“Yeah! Just keep up with the studying and you got it”, you nodded quickly, looking away from his puppy eyes when you felt happiness engulf you like a fire.

Ironically, you were actually playing with fire. Your hand tugged on the trigger and a flame flickered from the end of your lighter. You brought it down and lit the candle in front of you. To be honest, you were a bit of a goodie two shoes but you did break one rule.

No fire in the dorms.

“Hey, I really wanted to thank you. I’m actually passing all my classes now and it fills like my life has purpose again”, woah, didn’t expect that.

“No problem, Koo. Your life always has purpose. What do you mean?”, you looked up from what you were doing, noticing he was leaning against the frame of your door.

“All I did was party and drink. Sure, I was a good athlete but that can only take you so far”, you nodded in understanding and stood up, walking towards him.

He followed your every move like prey waiting for the predator to attack them.

But, instead of an attack, he was met with a warm, genuine, and, all around, great hug.

“Do you think of me as everyone else does?”, you looked up at him, meeting his starry eyes.

Oh, you hated them because of how much you loved them. They held the galaxy within them and you could stare into them for hours if given the chance.

You were many things but, tragically for Jungkook, a liar wasn’t one of them.

“Honestly, I did before. I’ve seen you do some of the things the rumors talk about-“, smoking, cheating, fighting, “but now I know that’s not all you are. There’s more to you, Koo”.

All Jungkook had been able to think about was your words. Sure, he didn’t care about your opinion before but it truly did make him happy to know you thought better of him.

“Jk! Where have you been?”, oh no.

“Jimin? I’ve just been at the gym a lot”, lies. He had been with you a lot.

“Ah, I see. How’s the bet going?”, the shorter man asked, running his fingers through his precisely cut hair. What a born model.

The bet. The bet you had no clue about. The bet Jungkook was too dense to refuse.

“It’s going. She hugged me yesterday”, Jimin scoffed and then chuckled, vastly different sounds that almost made Jungkook double over in fear. Truth be told, he despised Jimin. He despised him because he scared him. The only other man more influential than him was Jimin and that meant Jimin could ruin his reputation in a matter of seconds.

“That’s all? Damn, she really is void of love”, the bet Jimin was referring to was the one he made with the younger at the beginning of the year.

“I bet you can’t make her fall in love with you. She didn’t even love me, Koo! Me! I’m telling you, if you make her fall in love with you then I’ll get you anything you want”.

Time was running out with exams coming up and Jungkook needed to hurry if he was going to win such a bet. But, was it worth it if it meant disappointing you? Jimin may be scary but you made him feel so happy and so proud.

The only time he had seen you disappointed was when Taehyung broke one of your jars, resulting in a mess of coins, herbs, and wax on the floor. That’s the day he decided he never wanted to be on the receiving end of one of those looks.

“Yeah, she’s guarded which is understandable-“, wait- did Jeon Jungkook just grow some balls? “I’d be void of love too if everyone judged me for something I believed in”. He did.

“Where is that coming from? She deserves it, doesn’t she? Come on, JK. Keep that head in the game!”, Jimin patted his head like he was a child with all A’s on his report card, which, for once, was actually true thanks to you.

What game? You? Were you truly just a game to him?

“Alright, I’ve got this”, damn. Maybe you were.

Most nights you found yourself at the library now. It was the only place that was filled with peace and quiet. Especially on a Friday. Not even the librarian was here.

“Guess who”, hands covered your eyes and you would’ve punched the man behind you if you didn’t immediately recognize his husky voice. It was soothing with just the perfect mix of roughness. You couldn’t help but wonder what it sounded like when he just woke up.

“An asshole who thinks it’s okay to sneak up on women in a deserted place”, you grumbled and Jungkook immediately removed his hands.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you”, oh here we go. Argument number two thousand.

“I wasn’t scared. I was just saying that, one, you’re an ass and, two, don’t do that to women”, he nodded in agreement and you thought that was the stopping of an argument. Boy, oh boy, were you wrong.

“I won’t anymore but you’re so weak. I’ve scared you so many times now”, you glared at him. Thanks to months of being by Jungkook’s side, you had become a bit more out of control. The feelings you used to keep caged up were now more out in the open. You cussed more often, even tried drinking (and almost spit it out on him), and your frustration was no longer hidden from the world.

“Jungkook, you are a menace to society and I would like it if you leaved”, it was a pointless threat. You didn’t really mean it. You adored his company but you wouldn’t admit that with a gun to your head.

“Liar, you love me”, shit. Did you? No, don’t ask that. It was just a joke.

Damn you and your overthinking.

“No, I hate you. Shut up”, that was also a useless threat. Jungkook never shut up. He was quite the talker and shutting up was not in his vocabulary.

“No, you hate me. Shut up”, he sat on the table you were previously working on, knowing this would take a while. Your arguments always lasted between thirty minutes to two or three hours. You both hated to back down.

“No, I love you. Shut the fuck up”, wait a second-

“As you wish”, he smirked victoriously and leaned closer, his face so close to your’s that you could smell his musky cologne.

“That was wrong”, you glared at him and he shook his head, “don’t open your mouth aga-“ you were cut off as his lips connected with your’s. He kissed you so intensely that your mind was fogged up, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

Finally, with your brain still hooked on adrenaline, your hands found their way to his cheeks, cupping his well defined face as you kissed back. You could feel him smile into the kiss before he pulled away, leaving a spark traveling down your body. Now, that’s a good feeling.

“Ah, I love when you shut the fuck up”, you were so close to beating him with your bag.

Everything was weird after the kiss. Life wasn’t some fairytale where you both lived happily ever after in some old palace somewhere.

No, you were both actually stuck in that “fuck, what are we?” mess.

Love wasn’t something you could control and that was why you never let it get that far, but, with Jungkook, it felt uncontrollable, spreading like wildfire.

So, you avoided him.

Of course, it wasn’t the most humane or easiest form of dealing with your feelings but it worked.

Well, for a little bit until Koo decided to block you off in the library, cornering you into the back section of the religious books. Oh, how ironic.

“What’s wrong?”, his voice made your knees want to give out. It was early and you assumed he woke up early just to catch you. His attire said that enough from his sweatpants to the tank top hugging his upper body. He obviously just threw something on before he left.

“What are you talking about?”, you tilted your head and tried to act innocent, but, once again, a liar you were not.

“Oh please, you’re obviously pissed off or scared of me or something”, bingo. You were horrified of what you were feeling and, in tune with it, Jungkook.

“I don’t know! Why do you even care? You’re obviously going to pass your exam so what am I needed for anymore?”, you winced at your own words, watching as the man’s usual bright expression turned into a sorrowful one.

“It’s much more than that, y/n”, that was probably one of the first times he had said your name. He usually called you nicknames like princess, sourpuss, or whatever else he came up with depending on his mood.

“Then what is it?”, the stare he gave you made you want to hide further into the corner. It was so predatory that your body was trying to fight its own instincts to run away and avoid the problem. You were always a flight over fight type of girl.

“You”, the one word made your eyebrows furrow, racking your brain for a response or understanding of what he meant. Jungkook shook his head as you watched your face twist in confusion.

“You’re so dense. Why would I kiss you if it wasn’t all for you?”, he leaned closer to you, hand resting on the shelf of the bookcase behind you. You silently thanked the universe that no one else was in there yet.

“Discount?”, it was the first thing you thought of and it caused a low chuckle to rumble out of Jungkook’s chest. He looked up into your eyes and it almost knocked the air out of you.

“Hmm, unless it’s a fuck buddy discount then I don’t think I want it”, he raised an eyebrow cockily and your eyes went wide. Little did Jungkook know that he just complicated your relationship even more.

“And what if I’m okay with making such a discount?”, the student practically groaned at the words, free hand finding its way on your hip, squeezing it. You don’t know where your new found confidence came from but you had gotten rather blunt since hanging out with Jungkook.

“Then I’d say you’re not the person I thought you were”, he hummed, leaning in to whisper in your ear. The way his breath tickled your ear sent sparks through your body.

“Is that what you want? For me to take you here against these books?”, yes you did. Looking around, you were met with many versions of Bible and other holy books of all religions. It was absolutely filthy and wrong to do it there which was why it was perfect.

“Yes, I want that”, your nails dug into the wood behind you, trying to ground your emotions down. It had always been an escape tactic to you.

“How naughty”, now you understood why he had chosen today of all days to corner you. He loved the skirt you were wearing and how easily it gave access to everything delicious underneath. Plus, your legs were perfect to him.

His fingers danced along your thighs before he pushed up your skirt, revealing the black lace panties underneath. Oh, you knew what was going to happen today and you definitely knew Jungkook liked his black.

“So pretty. Just for me?”, the question took you off guard, your own questions flooding your brain. Ultimately, after a few moments of silence, you decided he probably had a possession thing. Who didn’t like to feel powerful?

“Just for you, Koo. Fuck, touch me please”, so you decided to feed his little ego, edging him on until he pulled the panties to the side to reveal your glistening pussy.

The dim light of the library truly didn’t do it justice but he couldn’t help himself from finding it to be also perfect. He was in deep shit now.

His long fingers ran down your slit until they reached their destination: your pussy. He rubbed around it before he slowly plunged his middle finger into the wetness, curling against your walls.

Fuck, you always hated that finger but with it inside of you? Maybe you could make an exception.

Your body shook in response to the stimulation since you hadn’t been touched in so long, your hands gripping the wood tighter to keep yourself steady. Jungkook smirked when you clenched around his finger before he added another, stretching you out wonderfully as he scissored you open.

And that was when Jungkook found his favorite sound in the world.

“Jungkook! Oh god”, you moaning his name sounded like music to his ears and he couldn’t get enough. The only thing he hated was how quiet it was since you were still conscious of the library around you. He wanted you to scream it.

“You like that, princess? You want more?”, you obediently nodded, not in the mood to be denied an orgasm (which you were sure Jungkook would do if you didn’t obey). The man chuckled and leaned down, still pumping his fingers steadily as if it took no effort at all. If you had done this yourself then your fingers would have been cramping by now.

Your body jolted when Jungkook’s plump lips wrapped around your clit, sucking harshly on the nerve as if he was starving. To be fair, he had skipped breakfast.

You feared for the books behind you as your body spasmed, orgasming on the man’s fingers. You took deep breaths once you were finished and watched as Jungkook pulled away, pulling his cum covered fingers out of you.

With prolonged eye contact, he slipped the digits into his mouth and sucked the juices off of them. A new wave of arousal went through you when he tapped your lips with them, making you open your mouth. You gagged briefly when they hit the back of your throat but you sucked on it, licking your way up his middle finger.

“Good girl”, now that was going to haunt you forever. You whined when he pulled his fingers away and he smiled teasingly at you.

“I’m going to need to see these”, your eyes went wide when he gripped the collar of your shirt and ripped it clean down the middle, tossing it aside as if it didn’t cost you a fortune.

“Jeon Jungkook! That was expensive”, you huffed but he paid you no mind, just reaching behind you to remove your bra too so it can join the rest of your clothes.

“What if someone sees? I can’t cover these up quickly, Koo”, you crossed your arms over your chest, looking around cautiously. Jungkook just laughed and pulled your arms away, pinning your wrists above your head so he can press his body against your own.

“Take my shirt off and you can put that over you for the day. It’s fine, sourpuss”, oh you would’ve slapped him if you weren’t so turned on. He let go of your wrists and you quickly removed his shirt for him, revealing a muscular chest you could’ve never imagined.

And he never imagined how beautiful you’d look with your hard nipples pressed against the thin fabric of his white t-shirt. He grabbed them immediately and you failed to see the spark in his eyes as he squished them together.

“That was one of my favorite shirts. What a di-“, you yelped when he pulled your leg up over his shoulder, yanked his pants and boxers down, and pulled your panties aside to rub his angry tip against your folds. Your head rested back as he rubbed against your clit, covering his cock in your juices.

“What a dick indeed”, Jungkook chuckled deeply, arousal blurring his world into nothing but you. The only thing that mattered at that moment was feeling you.

His lips attached to your neck and you were so out of reality that you didn’t realize he was littering the skin with his marks, a silent claim on you as he pushed himself inside of you.

“Oh shit, it’s exactly as I imagined. So tight and warm”, and he was just as you imagined. So very big. You didn’t think anyone else could stretch you out as much as Jeon Jungkook and that thought made you groan.

“You’ve been imagining it?”, it was your turn to smirk and, for the first time ever, the man in front of you blushed.

“Oh please princess. I know you’ve been thinking about it too”, and you had been. Not that you’d ever admit that after he just basically friends with benefits zoned you.

“Just move you asshole”, Jungkook gripped your hair, tugging on the soft strands as he finally kept pushing, bottoming out inside of you perfectly.

His big hands moved to grip your hips, a little help to keep you up as he started to snap his own into your’s. He was mildly uncomfortable at first but, as you adjusted to his size, bliss filled your body.

Finally, you were doing something to make yourself happy and pleased. Maybe Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the best man to do it but he was making you feel so so good.

The man snapped you out of your thoughts as he brought your hand down to your clit. You understood and started to rub it, happy knowing that Jungkook was also looking out for your own pleasure too. Not that you’d know he had been thinking about you creaming on his big cock for months now.

“Keep doing that”, he whispered despite the heavy groan that threatened to come out. He was referring to the uncontrollable clenching you were doing around his dick, sucking him into your walls with each muscle movement. You listened and (despite knowing you were going to keep doing it anyways) clenched once again.

“Can I cum inside?”, you whimpered at the idea of Jungkook’s cum filling you up and, knowing you’re on grade A birth control, you nodded. While Jungkook was effortlessly attractive, kids were not part of your plans by far.

“You close too, princess?”, you nodded, a small moan spilling past your lips despite your best efforts to be quiet. With that knowledge, the man orgasmed and you could feel his seed start to coat your insides. The feeling made you tumble over into your own orgasm, coating his softening cock with your release.

“I think that’s the best sex I’ll ever have”, you praised him as you tried to put your cramping leg down off his shoulder. Instead, he held it tighter and pulled himself out of you. He watched as his cum started the spill out of you, dripping down your thighs beautifully.

So, he’s a man who likes to admire his work.

You almost screamed when he pushed it back inside of you with his finger due to the sensitivity.

“See you later, sourpuss”, Jungkook smirked and put your panties back to their original position before he pulled his own boxers and pants back up. He walked off and you were left gobsmacked with his cum dripping out of you onto your panties.

As the weeks passed by, the world became more vibrant and cheerful but also more chilling and worrisome.

Exams were over and you were free to go wherever you pleased but, somehow, you always found yourself wanting to be with what was supposed to be your secret guilty pleasure. Now, he was your everything. He truly brought color into your world; sadly, color always comes with black and white.

“I won the bet, Jimin. I want what I asked for”, you listened intently from the other aisle of books. The library had become your go to spot to find Jungkook. Surprisingly, the once unmotivated student was more frequently in here because of the sheer relief he got when you stood before him with a proud smile. What a softy.

“Really? She fell for you? Damn, you still got it. I can’t believe you asked for this though”, the disgust in your ex’s voice was evident and you so desperately wanted to see what he was referring to. You truly thought Koo had stopped being friends with Jimin after he apologized but apparently you were wrong about a lot of things. Most of all, you were wrong to love again.

Feeling your tears start to spill down your cheeks for the first time in years, you forced yourself out of the library. You should’ve seen it coming. What would a playboy want with you? A woman looking for a serious relationship? You’re an idiot and you’ll fix it.

Said playboy must’ve spotted you because you could hear his heavy footsteps behind you as you rushed out of the library, hurrying into a run with the safety of your dorm in mind. It was time to end this.

So, here you were. Remembering everything from the past few months as the candles in front of you burned, getting so desperately close to the string connecting them. You had carved an evident ‘JK’ on one and your initials on the other, bonding them to the people who needed to be apart from one another.

Watching his candle, you noticed the wax dripping down the long wick and you knew they were tears. You knew because of the loud banging coming from your dorm door, the man on the other side screaming and sobbing for you to let him explain.

Your candle, however, burned strongly with vengeance. It stood so tall compared to Jungkook’s and, as the fire finally burned through the string tying you both together, you felt free. It was like Jeon Jungkook had never affected you before and his name slowly slipped from your mind.

Eventually, the banging stopped as the candles reached their ends and the fire flickered out under your gaze. You felt so blissfully numb as you walked towards the door, opening it to reveal a confused Jungkook looking up at you.

“What did you do? It’s like-“, you cut him off with your hand, pulling him up rather roughly.

“You never knew me. That’s how I want it, Jeon Jungkook. You never knew me and I never knew you. Now, get your prize and leave me alone”, you slammed the door in his face. You felt pure relief but Jungkook could still feel a pang of want in his body.

You had failed to notice the little wax left of his candle that stood strong as you dumped it in the trash and he failed to notice that he had left his “prize” outside your door as he rushed off.

A gorgeous rose quartz necklace.

What a way to declare your love to a witch who just cut it all off.

#binxyu #btsghostie #lsn.works #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #jungkook smuts #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshots #jungkook oneshot #bts jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagines #bts oneshots #bts scenarios

[quinncupine]

Hiiii quinn! I never realised you did requests but if it would be fine (and also because its my sole goal) could you do a boom boom boi and izubby with having their own cat or dog as a pet??? I'm seriously thinking that boom boom boi would be both a cat and dog person, don't u agree? (Ily lots and don't feel pressured to do this if you have a lot of stuff going on!)

Hi Dorki! I'm finally making my way through my requests and I was really excited to write this one! Okay, hope you like it!

Quinns Masterlist

Wanna request something?

The Boys with Pets

Word Count: 1,750

Featuring: Izuku Midoriya and Katsuki Bakugo!

Warnings: dogs, cats, cursing

Izuku Midoriya

Now Izuku loves pretty much all animals, but I can totally see him getting a dog. Dogs are loyal and full of energy just like a certain green-haired hero. The perfect duo.

He would probably rescue one from the pound, the one with the biggest, saddest, cutest eyes because how could he not? But someone has to go with him because he'd try to rescue them all if there was no one there to stop him. Once a hero, always a hero I suppose.

I'm thinking for names, he would definitely pick a name that reflects his favorite heroes. Don't be surprised if he names his dog something super cheesy like Mighty or Rocky…

Wait, okay, I've decided, he names his dog Mighty and that is the hill I will die on.

The life of a hero is quite busy so when he goes off on long missions, he drops the dog off at his mom's house. Inko has fallen in love with this sweet pup, so much so that she sometimes begs him to stop by with the dog for a visit. It's the closest thing she's got to grandbabies at the moment, she'll take what she can get :)

Now, this cute pup draws in the attention of just about everyone so he's gotten an influx of attention and a few numbers slipped in his hand during their walks, much to his flustered surprise.

Best wingman ever.

This dog goes on regular runs with Izuku and sometimes even helps him with training. I'm thinking a Collie or an Aussie would just be the perfect fit for him to keep up with his personality and lifestyle. He needs an active dog!

I can see it now, he goes on his daily morning runs with this cute Lil furry training buddy and they race the whole way! A few regulars on the trail know about this and it's become sort of a tradition to cheer the two on as they pass.

 ...

The morning air was crisp with the slight scent of the coming autumn, the perfect morning for a run. Izuku, dressed in his usual training wear, had a steady rhythm going for the last forty minutes, letting out even, controlled breaths. This was the easy part of the run, a warm-up if anything, and he hadn't even broken a sweat yet. The canine jogging by his side was enjoying the dewy morning air as well, tongue happily flopping out the side of her mouth. The shared morning ritual between man and man's best friend: Mighty.

Her tail picked up speed, wagging uncontrollably as they neared the bend where the giant jagged rock towered over the path. It was the place marker to start the race. A three-mile run to the top of the hill located at the center of the park. It was also Mighty's favorite part of the morning.

"Ready girl?" Izuku grinned down at the ecstatic dog who barked in reply.

The instant the two of them passed the big rock, they both broke out in full speed, leaving behind a cloud of dust. Happy barks filled the air as she gained the upper hand. Izuku laughed as the dog turned to look back at him lagging behind her. He always did these races without his quirk to assist him. It was only fair and it helped him work on his natural stamina in case he was ever in a situation where he couldn't use his quirk. Always good to be prepared.

He watched as she bounded up the first steep hill on the trail. There were a few small hills on this route, but this one was the hardest to climb and Mighty had the advantage with her four legs so she always managed to pull ahead first. She stopped at the top and barked him on before quickly disappearing over the crest.

When he reached the top, he stopped for just a second to take in his surroundings. This part of the park was a heavily wooded area with numerous trails that many people used to hike or run. It also served as a great view of the city skyline and he couldn't help but stop and admire the rising sun from between the foggy buildings every time. Then Mighty barked to pull him out of his thoughts.

"It's not over yet!" He called after her and raced down the hill, putting on an extra burst of speed to easily close the distance.

Tail wagging, she nipped playfully at his feet as they sprinted along the path, side by side. There weren't many people out this early so he usually had the trail to himself. The only sounds were the wind in the trees, the leaves crunching under feet and paws, Mighty barking beside him, and his own unrestrained glee as they ran together.

These were the mornings he loved. Just the two of them, away from the stresses that came with pro-hero work. He wouldn't trade being a hero for anything, but sometimes it got to be too much so coming here to clear his mind with a little run was always a cathartic release, only made better by the furry companion by his side.

The short bridge that arched over the creek signaled the last mile. Getting more serious, Izuku pulled ahead of Mighty, not able to hold back the giant grin as he streaked across the bridge, startling a few birds off the railings which Mighty barked at as she came up behind him.

Up ahead was a large open meadow with a small duck pond near the center. A few benches were scattered about the path and he saw the same elderly couple sitting in their usual spot with a bag of rice and seed to feed the plethora of ducks waddling around their feet.

"You got him this time Mighty!" The old man looked up as the two of them zipped down the path towards the couple.

"Show 'em what girls can do!" The woman cracked a smile, waving her hands.

"Morning Mr. and Mrs. Fujino!" Izuku waved as he passed. "Don't count me out yet!"

Mighty barked her greeting and took a detour, herding some ducks closer to the couple then with a quick lick to Mr. Fujino's hand, she sprinted back to catch up to Izuku.

The Fujino's marked the last leg of the race. The only thing left was to climb the top of the largest hill in the park to the old oak tree at the top. That was the finishing line. It was always a gamble as to who finished first every day, but Mighty sure had a competitive spirit.

Izuku pumped his legs as he steadily made his way up to the dirt trail, Mighty just behind him before she suddenly veered left and disappeared into the shrubbery. He was so focused on the tree that slowly came into view just around the curve as he neared the top that he didn't notice.

Just as the path leveled out, almost to the finish line, he glanced back to see no sign of his dog. The tree was a few feet away when a furry mass ambushed him from the side, knocking him clean off his feet. The pro hero landed in the grass with a heavy Oof. Sitting on his chest was Mighty, looking quite proud of herself.

"Cheater!" He laughed, trying his best to hold back the slobbery licks she was determined to give him. "Okay, okay, I'll call it a tie!"

 Katsuki Bakugo

Now Katsuki on the other hand would totally be a cat person. Not that he has anything against dogs, but cats are more his style. They don't need constant attention and are pretty much self-sufficient. Just the way he likes it.

That being said, Katuski would go all out on toys and the latest gizmos to take care of his cat. Has a self-cleaning litter box, a waterfall bowl, an automatic feeder, etc. You get the picture.

Oh, and toys galore. If he has space, this cat is getting a personal jungle gym that lets him walk up to the ceiling. S.P.O.I.L.E.D.

Doesn't like to tell people just how much he actually loves this cat because he's never been one to express emotions, but this cat just gets him to his core. They share the same wavelength and he appreciates that. The cat is the only one he trusts to open up to, so sometimes you might catch him ranting to the poor thing who just stares back with big wide eyes and occasional meows. Yup, totally gets him.

I see him with a super chill cat, like maybe a Ragdoll or a Russian Blue. Something that tolerates his constant screaming and explosions.

This guy is just as bad at names. It'll definitely be something long and dramatic like Lord Cat Explosion Demon God of Furballs. Yep. He doesn't take criticism so most people call him Lord Furballs, much to his disdain.

Katsuki won't ask for attention from the cat, but the little furry feline is a total cuddler and will often find itself curled up in his lap or even on his neck if Katsuki's sitting on the couch. You better believe this guy won't be moving until that cat decides it's time to move. He's been late to meetings with friends because of this cuddly cat.

He's a hero so this cat is definitely being treated right. Katuski is no slacker when it comes to caring for his lil buddy. The vet is on speed dial should anything ever happen.

Did someone say a custom-made collar that matches his hero costume to a tee?

He's never loved anything more.

 ...

"Uh, hey Bakubro, why is your cat glaring at me?" Ejiro asked, staring down at the feline.

"What?" Katsuki didn't even bother to look up from his laptop.

"Your cat. It's giving me the evil eye. I thought it was supposed to be friendly." The red-haired hero frowned, not able to break eye contact with the cat. "I don’t think it likes me."

The small furry creature had lazily curled up in the sunspot next to Katsuki's feet, purring away without a care in the world. It seemed harmless enough, except for the heavy glare it was shooting Ejiro's way.

"Heh," Katsuki finally glanced down and crossed his arms. "He's not glaring. That's just his face."

"Ah," Ejiro nodded, "like father like son."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean!?"

Taglist: @thecindy @peachsenpie @awilddreamerwrites @miriobaby @kiyoobi @dragonsdreamoffire @amive2567 @justscar @kenmaskitten10 @freckledoriya

#izuku midoriya #katsuki bakugou #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #izuku midoriya headcanons #katsuki bakugou headcanons #my pets #cute dogs #cats #yes i did name his dog Mighty #come at me #I got really inspired so i wrote lil stories to go with these headcannons #i laughed when I wrote Katsuki's #of course that cat would pick up on his mannerisms while being a precious sweetheart #and that dog is literally just Izuku in dog form so #this turned out so goofy #lol #request

[ktheist]

03 — show me yours & i’ll show you mine | m

➙ muses. seokjin x college student / gamer!reader ft. best friend! taehyung

➙ genre. best friend’s brother au. university au. working au. fwb au.

➙ word. 1.9k

➙ warnings. explicit content, fingering, mild exhibitionism

➙ index. 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | finale | side story 1 |

➙ synopsis.  “why are you doing this if you’re not gonna fuck me?”

x

saturday evening, taehyung comes up to you with a face of a blank canvas, phone in his hand facing the ceiling and relays the news of his break up.

you’re in the middle of watching a show with his two brothers on your laptop.

“wh-what?” is all you manage to say whilst namjoon and seokjin freeze in their spots.

“i broke up with her,” taehyung’s shoulderline rises as he casually shrugs.

“but why?” deep down, you have an inkling - but your mouth moved on its own before you can even stop it.

“cause she was shit talking you,” and with that, he twirls around, heading back to the hallway where one of the doors connect to his room.

and just like second nature, your body shoots up, trailing after the slumped man like a mother to her pupper.

“you guys watch without me,” you briefly say to the two men on the couch, their faces scrunching with growing concern.

for the first time in a long time, you and taehyung bare your hearts to each other. talked about your fears and hopes and what keeps you going. which is, to an extent, each other and the two brothers. you’re not sure how you fell asleep but you wake up with a leg sprawled all over your stomach and a snoring sound echoing against the wall. the blanket draped over you and taehyung isn’t part of his bedset because one, you and taehyung end up sleeping on top of the sheets and two, you know the only one brother out of the three loves the color blue so much, his bedsheets and blankets are always themed with light cerulean. and this blanket - you’ve definitely seen seokjin use a dozen times.

"hey, morning,” you greet the two brothers whilst they’re unpacking what seems to be takeouts from a store you all collectively agree have no bad item in their menu.

everyone eats just about anything from that restaurant.

“morning, sleepyhead.” namjoon shakes his head, smiling - it’s probably the hair pointing in different directions.

“how’s taehyung?” seokjin asks when you come to sit on the stool next to where he’s standing.

“well, i mean - he’s not in a good place,” you begin, “i know he really liked her. and i know she talks shit about me behind my back and she knows i do too and he’s always caught in between, but he always seemed to brush it off and never take sides you know? so i didn’t think he’d break up with her over it.”

“hey, it’s not your fault,” the hand on your shoulder is warm, seeping into your heart as you examine the sincerity of those brown eyes, down to the reassuring smile of those plump lips.

“thanks for saying that, jinnie,” you want to ask for a kiss (and maybe some dick) but with namjoon - though he’s cluelessly continuing with his task of preparing the takeouts - around, you settle for patting his hand that’s on your shoulder.

after washing your face and returning to the kitchen, you find the previously sleeping-like-a-long giant perched on one of the stools, rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes.

“look who’s up!” a smack lands on taehyung’s back.

the aforementioned man doesn’t even flinch as he takes another second to rub all the sleepiness away before craning his neck to look at your smiling face - it may be a dumb smile but someone’s got to be lifting the atmosphere.

“i thought you left,” he grumbles, before his arm snakes around your waist and brings you in for a side hug.

the recoil is almost automated as your smile scrunches into a cringe, arms flailing to push him away and at least get a few inches gap in between,“ew, what the hell.”

“i’m sad! gimme a hug,” he laments whilst namjoon laughs, commenting something about how “adorable” the two of you are and how it “...reminds me of the good old days, you know?”

he means when you and taehyung aren’t as resistant to skinships.

but all your attention goes to the eldest brother whose glance lingers a second too long before he tears his gaze off from you and taehyung.

x

it turns out that little bitch tried making taehyung choose between you and her after he’d texted her (in an attempt to placate her jealousy-prone heart) about how you’d opted to room with seokjin in yesterday.

give them and inch and they’ll take a mile.

“i should’ve known,” taehyung shakes his head, bags heavy under his eyes as he lies in his bed, cocooned by the light cerulean blanket, “you don’t like her but you like everyone-”

“don’t you go justin bieber on me,” you smack him in the stomach, to which he curls up into a caterpillar, moaning in pain and something about suing for personal injuries.

but the fact that he can complaint at all means that he’s recovered half of himself.

“i’m getting some food from the kitchen, you want anything?” you roll your eyes.

“how bout a new girlfriend?” he manages to say, despite the so called blow to the stomach.

“potato chips it is,” you nod before strutting out of the door.

the hallway is dimly lit, save for the lone light in the ceiling and the slightest bit of gap that allows luminescence to pour out of seokjin’s room. so you knock on the door, leaning against the frame, “hey.”

kim seokjin sits on the chair you previously occupied the night before, round glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as his eyes widen for the briefest second before offering you one of his warm smiles, “hey, how’s taehyung?”

“he’s eating,” you shrug, trying to appear casual even though something in the way his shirt swallows his already broad built and making him appear like you can fight him and win - gets your heart doing flips.

“that’s gre-” he can’t even properly get his response out because you’re already crossing the short distance between you and him, hands cupping his cheeks before smashing your lips against his. as if you haven’t had water for days. as if you’ve been breathing with your head barely above water.

his hands find their way on your hips, kissing you back more delicately than you can ever control yourself. tingles dot your skin from where his hand caresses your elbow and travels up your arm, lingering there, as though forgetting the reason his warning touch.

“i needed that,” you break away only to steal another kiss before confessing.

seokjin chuckles, his hand slipping over to your chest before attempting to pinch your nipple. to which he fails because your padded bra successfully blocks him off.

“oh, you’re wearing a bra?” the genuine surprise gleaming in his eyes should offend you.

“unless you want your brother accidentally touching my nips while we were wrestling each other to decide who gets to use your comfy as hell blanket,” you roll your eyes.

taehyung won, obviously. which explained why he was lying in bed like a human burrito just now.

“i’d have to give taehyung a personal beating if that happened,” the dorky grin and amused glint in his whenever he cracks a not-so-funny-but-adorable joke, isn’t present.

your heart’s always done this thing where it skips with every smile that curls on his lips, yet the lack of it and the underlying seriousness of his tone is making your heart lurch in your throat, warmth spreading all over your body.

“anyways, i need to get taehyung some chips, thanks for the kiss.” you wave but something wraps around your wrist like an iron hold seconds before you find yourself perched in seokjin’s lap and the man dangerously close to you - despite having shared a passionate kiss just a moment ago.

“taehyung this, taehyung that,” his hand slips under your shirt, coarse hand trailing up your back until you feel him unhooking your bra in one go.

like he’s had enough practice in the art of seduction.

“well, he’s the one out of the four of us with a broken heart,” you pray to the constellations and deities that your voice is levelled though it soon proves to be pointless if his other hand’s snaking up your front and hovers over your chest where he could feel the organ beneath beating wildly.

“you’re breaking mine though... with spending that much time with my brother,” he traps your nipple in between his thumb and index finger, caressing, teasing with a smile that ironically has probably broken a few hearts of his own.

“i can fix that,” you beam, finger tracing down his front and down to the waistline of his pants, to which you can’t reach unless you scoot away to allow your hand to -

“not right now,” the sound of wind chimes drum in your ears as he chuckles.

it makes the umpteenth rejection a little less prickly, as you pout, “when?”

“soon,” and with that, he takes your wrist in his hand, making you push your own shirt up until your nipples are bare in the open, “hold this up for me, please.”

it’s the please that gets you.

ever the gentleman even as he’s about to tease you with his teeth against your nipples and his free hand fondling your other breast.

“why are you doing this if you’re not gonna fuck me?” you grunt, displeased, but arch your back anyway to make it easier for him to suckle and bite on your erected nipples.

you’ve always thought his hair looked soft but it’s softer as you bury your free hand in it. at first, it’s just a gentle caress - just like patting a golden retriever. but then as his tongue lapse over your protruded nub and the pressure in his free hand in your other breast grows more intense, you’re surprised he’s not moaning out in pain from the way your hand’s instinctively grasping at his roots.

“ah!” a yelp escapes you when he leaves your left nipple for the other one, biting down harder than you’re used to but not enough to draw blood.

you’re lost in the pain and pleasure of his tongue and apt fingers, where his mouth isn’t sucking on your nipple, his fingers are pinching and groping it. somewhere in the back of your mind, you distinctively remember a midly pressing matter-

“what the fuck?”

something about a heartbroken best friend and an unclosed door.

"t-taehyung!” you gasp, body almost jolting upward like a criminal caught red handed but seokjin’s arms around your body roots you down in his lap as he slowly pulls down your shirt before turning his attention to his youngest brother.

“taehyung, calm down,” he instructs with ease but his wide-eyed gaze is filled with concern.

“this isn’t-” you begin, slipping away from seokjin’s loosened grasp to pad over to your best friend who looks like he’s seen a ghost or his brother and best friend almost-fucking. either one works, “this isn’t what you think.”

“no-” the younger cups his mouth as he doubles over, his other hand held up in the air as if to tell you to “stay the fuck back-”

“oh, come on,” the slightest brush of your nipples against the material of your carelessly-pulled-down bra makes does not go pass you, yet you put your hand on your hip, rolling your eyes, “don’t be so dramatic.”

and that’s when taehyung hurls his guts out in front of seokjin’s door.

x

note. ooof 

i wasn’t sure if this drabble was gonna gain any eager readers. when i say eager, i mean those who look forward to an update, but some of you showed interest and it warms my heart! so here’s to another update! hope yall enjoyed!

taglist. @aretha170​ @scalubera​ @ambersaesthetics​ !

#seokjin scenarios #bts smut #seokjin smut #jin smut #seokjin fanfic #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts x you #bts fic #seokjin fic #seokjin x reader #bts x reader #bts imagines #seokjin imaines #seokjin x you #bts #seokjin #bts fluff #bts au #seokjin au

[milfgritty]

constellation of asters | m. frost & j. farabee

❀ ⇢ requested: yes | no ❀ ⇢ genre: poly!au | soulmate!au | gender neutral reader ❀ ⇢ word count: 12.9k ❀ ⇢ a/n: yea i have no excuses for this. enjoy.

everyone has a soulmate, it’s just a simple known fact. a red string, a soulmark, first words tattooed on the inside of your wrist, there’s something to help every person find theirs. except, well, you never had any of those. growing up, you (kinda) came to terms with the fact that you might just not have a soulmate at all. it’s not until you meet morgan and joel that you begin to reconsider the possibility that you actually have not one, but two.

⇢ posted: 02.07.21 . | . masterlist

There are the lucky ones in the world who are born with an identifying soulmark. Something that leads them straight to their soulmate, whether it be a red string of fate, or the date of their other half’s birth, or even a tattoo shared only by the two of them. 

You, though?

You wish you were one of them. But alas, no string, no tattoo, no drawings, not even a damn clock. Nothing to ever even allude to the existence of your supposed other half. When you were younger it terrified you, made you think that something went wrong wherever soulmates were paired. Left you alone, destined to never be the perfect match for anyone. You used to watch in envy of all the kids in the schoolyard proudly displaying their tattoos, showing off whatever new their soulmate drew on their skin that morning. Knowing that they would remember that you were one of the unlucky ones soon enough, the ones people whispered about under their breath, never loudly as though terrified if someone heard them their own soulmate would vanish.

Not having a soulmate was kind of a big deal, if you couldn’t tell. 

And still years went by and you grew up with half-assed reassurances of ‘don’t worry, I’m sure your soulmate is out there somewhere, you’ll see’ and ‘maybe you just have an invisible soulmark, didn’t you know those are a thing?’. Years went by, and you grew up, and you rationalized. 

You didn’t need a soulmate. People without them got along just fine, and sometimes people lost theirs without ever meeting them in the first place. Hell, you were actually luckier than everyone else because you had the free will, the agency, to pick who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. So what if they weren’t handpicked and perfect for you, you would be happy, dammit.

That’s what you told yourself, at least. 

~

Done with a particularly rough day of classes, you figured it was only fair to reward yourself with your favorite drink from your favorite cafe near campus. It was a special treat that you rarely afforded yourself, what with you fitting the stereotypical broke college image to an almost painful extent. Dodging other people on the sidewalk, you clutched your jacket closer around your body to protect from the harsh wind. The bag on your back straining under the combined weight of your single (five subject) notebook, textbooks, and laptop, you cursed yourself under your breath for not at the very least putting it in your car before making the five minute trek. 

Slipping into the tiny cafe nestled on the corner, you allowed yourself a sigh of relief. You took the moment to drop your stuff at a vacant table before making your way to the counter. Waiting in line, your eyes scanned the menu despite knowing exactly what you would get, as you did every time you let yourself come here. Back aching and your hand attempting to massage it from the worst possible angle, the line continued to shorten until you could order and retreat back to your table. 

You were tempted to stay, even after getting your coffee. Free wifi, decent music, and minimal noise? Easily get through at least homework for one class. But a larger part of you yearned for your warm bed and cozy blankets, preferably with pajamas. And so, it was with maximum effort that you picked back up your bag and coffee and slipped out the door and into the windy outdoors once more. 

The walk back to your car was more bearable with the addition of a hand warmer, so much so that you took the longer way through the small park you had walked past on your way there. With the trees above and around you and the dancing leaves raining down, their colors slowly changing from their normal shade to the yellows and oranges of autumn, a smile slipped onto your lips. Your eyes lingered on the flowers lining the pathway, your mind trying futilely to identify which ones they wer—

A body slammed into yours, shoulders knocking violently as you were shoved off balance. Your still mostly full coffee fell from your hand, lid flying off and spilling onto the ground. You landed miraculously not in the growing puddle of hot coffee, but still flat on your ass as you stared up in shock at the man who had somehow remained standing. 

Seconds ticked by as you stared at each other, uncomprehending. The tall and outrageously sturdy stranger broke through his shock first.

“I’m so sorry, holy shit,” he rushed out, hand reaching down to help you up. Gazing unblinking at the outstretched limb, you allowed him to pull you up. Bare skin touching yours, you only allowed a split second of disappointment when there was no discernable reaction before smothering it back down.

Really, you thought, what did I expect? A mark to show up on our hands linking us together? How naive. You really thought you had gotten passed doing that.

“It—it’s fine,” you mumbled, sparing a despaired glance down at your spilled coffee, “don’t worry about it.” How neither you nor your bag didn’t end up in the puddle was beyond you, but you’ll take it. 

His gaze followed yours, landing on the pitiful cup. “Fuck, your drink, I’m so sorry.”

“Seriously, it’s fine. Stop apologizing,” you told him, adjusting your bag and turning to leave. There was no way you were going back to the cafe and getting another drink, this one was already indulging yourself. 

“No, hey,” he lightly grabbed your jacket, stopping you. “Let me buy you a new one, make it up to you for spilling that one.” 

Suddenly much closer to his tall frame, your eyes caught on his brown ones. There was just something about him that you could already feel your resolve chipping away. 

“I was on my way to Starbucks anyway, it’s no problem,” he continued, as though sensing he was breaking you down. At the mention of Starbucks, though, your nose involuntarily scrunched. Something he definitely caught. “Or wherever it was you got that,” he laughed, his smile making your heart catch a beat. 

You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. Not when he’s oddly pretty and he could have a soulmate who’s not you and—

“Yea, sure.” You smiled, “Luckily for you, it’s pretty close to here.”

His smile widened, eyes crinkling at the corner, and his hand dropped from your sleeve. It was strange how much you felt its absence, but you pushed the thought away. “After you then,” he stepped aside, gesturing you forward. 

Moving around him, you fell in step together, going back the way you came. 

“I’m Morgan, by the way,” he—Morgan—introduced himself after a beat. Studying him for a split second, you thought the name suited him. 

“Y/N,” you said in response, ignoring the way his smile made you want to smile, too.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.” And the two of you kept walking. 

~

Two months. It had been two months of hearing Morgan talk about Y/N this, Y/N that, and Joel still wasn’t quite sure if he liked or hated you. 

Depends on the day, really.

It wasn’t anything against you as a person; it was just, well. He wasn’t sure what it was if he was being completely honest. Maybe it was the way Morgan brightened at the mention of your name, maybe it was how he always brought you up in conversation, maybe it was how obvious it was that he liked you.

But he definitely wasn’t jealous. Of course not. How ridiculous.

He watched Morgan move around in their shared kitchen, rambling on and on. Something about how you joked earlier when you were hanging out that you would wear his jersey if he bought it for you. At that moment, he couldn’t hold the thing he couldn’t quite identify in anymore. “So have you brought up how you feel, yet?” 

Morgan stopped and closed the fridge door that he had half his body shoved inside and digging around in as he turned to face him. Brows furrowed, he shook his head with a look of poorly feigned confusion. “I—what? No, it’s not like that. Why would you even ask that?” he questioned, staring him down.

Joel shrugged, fidgeting on the stool he had perched himself on when Morgan went into the kitchen. He really wasn’t sure why he had asked. He just had. A part of him didn’t want to know why.

“Just feels like the two of you have been hanging out as much as you can. The way you talk, it’s pretty obvious how you, at least, feel,” he replied. He picked at his sweats, avoiding his roommate's gaze.

Morgan cleared his throat, turning back to the fridge. “I don’t—not like that, man,” he told him over his shoulder. He gave the fridge a second glance before closing the door, walking past Joel and out of the kitchen. 

“It’s not a big deal if you do,” Joel said as he followed him back into the living room. “You haven’t found your soulmate yet, plenty of people date before they do.”

“Why are you so concerned about it, Beezer?” Morgan pivoted on his heel to face him, forcing Joel to stop in his tracks unless he wanted to run him down. 

“I—I don’t, I’m not,” he answered, mind racing, “I just think you’ve been practically obsessed with them for months and I haven’t even met them—”

Morgan laughed sharply, cutting him off, “Is that what this is about? Seriously?”

“I mean, kinda? It’d be nice, at least.”

“Fine, then I’ll ask if we can all do something together this weekend. Is that good for you, Joel?”

Ignoring the sarcasm in his last sentence, he maneuvered around his body and flopped down onto the couch. “It is actually, thanks.” In his head, however, he was less certain. How was he gonna be able to interact with you? Would his jealousy—no, not jealousy—be obvious to Morgan, to you?

Aside from the noise coming from the TV, the next few minutes passed in relative silence after Morgan crashed down next to him. Their previous conversation already partially forgotten, Joel became focused on the shitty reality show that had started to play without them noticing earlier. 

“Look, it’s not like I’m an idiot,” Morgan started suddenly, scaring him slightly. Joel’s head turned toward him, brow lifting in question. Morgan glanced at him before returning his gaze to the TV and continuing. “It’s just, yea. Maybe you’re right.”

He trailed off, leaving him to wait. “And?”

Morgan rolled his eyes and shuffled further into the couch. “And, I don’t know if I even have a soulmate,” he steamrolled on, “Just because I might not doesn’t mean—doesn’t mean no one does, you know? I don’t want to be the selfish asshole who gets into a relationship with someone who might have a perfect match waiting for them, someone that isn’t me.” 

“You don’t know if you have a soulmate?” The piece of information stuck out to him. Hit him in the gut and made his heart jump into his throat.

His roommate shrugged, continued to steadfastly ignore him. “Never had a mark or any of the other shit people had. It’s not—not that big of a deal. But I don’t want to be with someone and always be afraid that they’re going to find what I can’t and leave me behind.” 

Joel swallowed roughly, his heart racing. “Oh,” he mumbled, voice as quiet as Morgan’s had become by the time he had gotten done speaking.

“Yea,” Morgan huffed a bitter sounding laugh, “Oh.”

“You know,” Joel spoke lightly, softly, as though worried that talking too loud would ruin everything, “People always say that things work out in the end, even if it’s shit getting there.”

This time the laugh that escaped Morgan was more real, less cold. “Is that your way of making me feel better, Beezer?”

“Depends,” he smiled, bright at the sound of his laugh, “is it working?”

Morgan threw a pillow at him, it bouncing lightly off his head. “Dude, shut up,” he told him, the smile on his face softening his words. Following his advice, Joel adjusted himself on the couch, heart feeling just a bit lighter than it had previously.

~

“So I was thinking,” Morgan started as you walked down the street together.

“Absolutely shocking, continue,” you cut in, rewarded with a shove as you laughed.

“As I was saying,” he stressed, “You should come over for a game night or something this weekend.”

“Uh,” you stuttered out. “Yea, sure. Sounds fun. Will Joel be there?” You hadn’t meant to sound so shocked, but as it was, you most definitely were. In the what, two, three? Months since you had known Morgan, you never went to his place. Never met his elusive roommate. Sure, you had heard about Joel. It was hard not to when Morgan could—and had—talk for hours about his teammate. 

But you had never met him. And to be honest, at this point you were kinda scared to. 

Sure, he seemed like a nice enough guy. Except he clearly meant the world to Morgan, and well, Morgan meant the world to you. And yea, you weren’t sure when he began to mean so much, but he does. And you want Joel to like you. What if he doesn’t?

“Yea, Beezer’ll be there. Finally get to meet him.” He nudged you lightly, shooting you a smile. Smiling nervously back, you ducked under his arm and into the cafe as he held the door open for you. 

Coming to the little cafe on the corner had become tradition, Morgan falling in love with the shop just as much as you had. It didn’t bother you in the slightest since he pays for you whenever you two come. Which is, to say, far too often.

Placing both of your orders and finding a table, you turned to your friend. “Do you think,” you began nervously, picking at the edge of the table, “do you think he’ll like me? Joel?”

Morgan looked up from his phone and tilted his head. “Of course he will. Why?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, lying through your teeth. “It’s just, he’s your roommate—and your teammate—and wouldn’t it be, like, a little awkward if he actually hates me?”

Your question seemed to stump Morgan for a minute, his mouth opening and closing, eyebrows scrunched up as he looked at you from across the tiny table. You sat quietly, watching him think over his answer. Eyes wandering his face, your lips quirked as you just managed to pick out the way his lashes curled at the ends. So unfair, you thought, why does he get the long eyelashes? Finally, he seemed to get his words in order.

“Even if he doesn’t like you, which he definitely won’t,” he rushed out the last half, “But if he didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. It’s not like we would stop hanging out or anything. We would just, just keep hanging out the way we have been.”

Watching him, you chewed on the inside of your lip. “Promise?” you asked, voice coming out quieter than you had wanted. You hated the way you feared losing Morgan, scared that he had wormed his way into your life so quickly. 

His foot nudged yours under the table, breaking you out of your thoughts. Eyes meeting yours, your heart gave a tug at the sweet smile dancing across his lips. “Yea,” he told you, “I promise.”

Breath catching, you smiled back. “Then this weekend it is.”

~

The weekend came far sooner than you expected. 

“But you’re on your way, right?” Morgan questioned you over the phone. Figured you were running late today of all days. It was Saturday, dammit, you slept in late. That wasn’t a crime.

“Yes, Morg, I’m on my way. Leaving right now,” you reassured him, grabbing your keys off the counter and making your way to your door.

You heard his—frankly, exaggerated—breath of relief even on your end, gaining a fond eye roll out of you. “Okay, good,” he replied, “See you in like, twenty?”

“Uh-huh,” you muttered halfheartedly in response, more focused on locking up behind you. “I’ll see you in twenty.”

The only downside, of course, is that twenty minutes was definitely not enough time to settle your anxiety. And so soon enough, you were at Morgan’s shared apartment, and walking up to Morgan’s shared apartment, and oh god you were in front of his door, oh no—

This is fine. This is fine. Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself that no matter what, even if Joel didn’t like you, Morgan wouldn’t drop you. He promised. 

Christ, that sounded lame even in your head. 

Psyching yourself up, you raised your hand to their door and knocked. Ignoring the way your hand trembled lightly, you almost jumped when the door swung open faster than you expected.

“Hey,” Morgan appeared in the doorway, beaming down at you, “You made it.”

A snort left you without your permission. “Yea, you dork, I made it.” 

Catching his eye roll, you grinned as he stepped aside and swept his hand out. “Welcome to our apartment.” Your grin widened at how dumb he was and moved past him, brushing lightly against him as you entered. 

Walking in, your eyes caught on the form draped against the couch. Heart stuttering, all the anxiety that had briefly left you came flooding back. Morgan stepped around you, guiding you over to the living room. 

“Hey, asshole, you gonna say hi or what?” he asked, picking up a pillow and throwing it at Joel. It thumped softly onto his chest and rolled off the couch, causing him to glare up at Morgan. 

You stared wide eyed as Joel huffed and slung his legs over the side of the couch, standing up and unfolding to a height similar to Morgan. Giants, you scoffed lightly under your breath, they’re literally giants. Casually, you maneuvered until your body was just barely behind Morgan.

“Sup,” he did a weird head nod thing, his eyes roaming up and down your body. “I’m Joel, it’s uh—it’s nice to finally meet you.”

You smiled weakly up at him. “Y/—” you tried, cutting yourself off and clearing your throat, “Y/N. Nice to finally meet you, too.”

The two of you stared the other down, silence filling the room as Morgan watched the two of you watching each other. Rocking on your heels, you alternated between looking at him and around the room. 

“You know, uh,” Joel started abruptly, slipping his hands into the pockets of his sweats, “Frosty talks a lot about you. Can’t shut up, I don’t think.”

“Dude,” Morgan hissed at him as a laugh slipped past your lips. You felt your cheeks warm, your smile finally feeling less forced and more genuine.

“It’s funny,” you told him, ignoring Morgan, “he talks a lot about you, too. Once he gets started, it seems like he can’t stop.”

“I hate both of you. Why did I think this was a good idea,” Morgan said, throwing his hands up and slipping in between the two of you into what you assumed was the kitchen. The sound of yours and Joel’s laughter followed him, the pair of you sharing a conspirator’s smile. 

Joel was the first to break, his smile lingering as he spared you a glance and followed Morgan. “Don’t be like that, Morg. We’re getting along already. Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

Giggling, you walked in after them. “I don’t know what I was worried about,” you teased, sidling up to the counter, “Joel is great.” 

“Oh, you would think so,” Morgan rolled his eyes, pulling a sweet tea out of the fridge and handing it to you. Smiling in thanks, you opened it and took a sip.

“Wait,” Joel stopped and shook his head, “were you actually worried about meeting me?”

Eyes widening and head shooting up, you were positive panic flitted across your face. “Uhhh,” you started, shifting from foot to foot and shrugging, “A little? I mean, you’re his roommate and teammate and he talks about you all the time—”

“—I do not—”

“Yea, you do, Morg,” you laughed, glancing over at him before returning your attention to Joel. “But, yea. After so long without meeting, I guess I kinda built you up in my head and I got worried you wouldn’t like me and things would, I don’t know, be awkward for Morgan. It’s dumb.”

It was dumb, you realized, standing there. Joel was...you didn’t even know how to describe it. He was soothing. Calming in the same way Morgan was to you, like a balm to your anxiety. Easy to talk to, joke with. It had barely been ten minutes and already you could tell that. It was the same feeling that made you let Morgan buy you another drink when you first met.

“It’s not dumb,” he told you, lifting one shoulder in a half shrug, “I guess I felt the same way.”

“Really?” you asked, surprised. For some reason, you didn’t really expect him to feel much of, well, anything when it came to meeting you.

Grinning, he nudged your foot. “Don’t look so shocked. Even NHLers have feelings, you know.”

“Shut up,” both you and Morgan chorused, glancing at each other before laughing. It was then you realized how close the three of you were, the kitchen not exactly the largest room. If you moved one way, you’d bump into Morgan. If you moved the other, it would be Joel. 

“Wanna play fortnite or something?” Morgan asked, clearing your thoughts. He knew you well enough to figure out what the scrunch of your nose after his suggestion meant. “Or not fortnite, you have a better idea?”

“What else do you guys have?” You asked, hoping against odds they would have something that wasn’t completely awful. 

Joel and Morgan shared a look, communicating silently. 

“Uhh,” Joel started, “I think we have like, Skyrim? Never got around to playing it, though.”

Eyes immediately brightening, you straightened. You almost didn’t notice how the move brought you that much closer to him. “Dude, Skyrim came out like ten years ago. How have you never played?”

“Looks like Skyrim, it is,” Morgan muttered, squeezing past you to the living room. 

“I don’t know,” Joel tried to defend himself, “It’s not what I usually play.”

“Well, that changes today, buddy.” 

“Did you just call him buddy, oh my god,” you heard Morgan’s voice distantly, covered mostly by Joel’s shocked snort. 

Thirty minutes later found the three of you sprawled across the couch, limbs just barely intertwining as Joel tried still to make his way through the character creation screen. 

“Is that a cat? Do they have fucking furries in this game?”

“I swear, I’m gonna throw my sweet tea at you,” you threatened while swallowing down laughter at Joel’s commentary.

“Do it, I’m not getting you another one,” Morgan told you, his hand lying lightly on the bottom of your calf. 

“Yea, you would,” you smiled over at him. 

A snort came from Joel’s direction, followed by, “Dude, you would.”

“Shut the fuck up, Beezer, I didn’t ask you.”

Mock gasping, you reached over and hit Morgan’s shoulder, eliciting a sharp ‘hey’ from him. “No being mean to each other,” you laughed, settling back down, shoulder brushing against Joel’s side.

“You heard the lady, Frosty,” Joel smirked, sticking his tongue out at him. 

“I’m never letting the two of you hang out again,” Morgan groaned, throwing his head back. His thumb had paused in the motion of rubbing circles into your leg. 

Exchanging a glance with the boys, you smiled. “I think it might be a bit too late for that.”

~

“You know,” you had innocently told Morgan and Joel a few days ago, “it’s kinda funny that two of my closest friends are professional ice hockey players and I’ve never even gone skating before.”

He was shocked at the revelation. Horrified, even. And definitely planning on rectifying that minor fact, something Joel fully supported and helped plan. Sadly, it took a few days before he and Joel were both home and didn’t have practice or a game and you didn’t have classes or homework, leaving the three of you able to hang out. 

He always counted it as a minor miracle when all of your schedules lined up. In the months he and Joel had known you, it happened far less than he would’ve liked. But as much as it felt better, more…more right, for it to be the three of you—which was normal, you were best friends; he didn’t like one of you more than the other—he took what he could get and didn’t complain. 

Much.

That’s how Morgan found himself at an ice rink with his two closest friends on his day off, watching one of them tie the other’s skate.

“You could’ve done this yourself,” Joel told you, fingers making quick work of your laces.

You beamed down at him, a satisfied little smile on your face, “But you do it so much better than me.”

Morgan laughed to himself, bending down to finish lacing up his own skates. Joel had gotten his done first and found himself helping you, not that he exactly put up a fight. Finishing up, he stood and leaned against the boards, peering down as Joel worked. 

“You waiting for us? That’s so sweet,” you smiled up at him, resting your weight on your hands behind you. 

Joel huffed a laugh and half turned to look over his shoulder at him, flashing him a smirk, the asshole. “Our Morgan? He’s just a sweetheart, isn’t he?”

Morgan reached out and kicked him, mindful of the blade of his skate. Rolling his eyes, he maneuvered around both of you and stepped out onto the ice. 

“Just for that, I’m going without the both of you.”

Hearing the teasing calls of his name accompanied by laughter, he smiled and went to do laps around the rink. Slowly he went through the motions, glancing behind him now and then to see if Joel had finished yet. 

When he finally did, Morgan made his way back to the two of you. “You ready to see what you’ve been missing out on?” He teased, eyes catching on the way you wobbled unsteadily and clutched tightly to Joel’s arm next to you. 

“Quick question,” your laugh came out high pitched and as unsteady as your walk, “just how hard is skating?”

“Please, don’t worry,” Joel scoffed, shortening his steps to help you. Morgan watched his teammate stabilize you, the steady rock to your choppy sea. “Skating is one of the easiest things in the world.”

“Okay, let me rephrase,” a cheeky smile flitted across your lips, “how hard is skating for us normal people?”

He shared a fond look with Joel, laughing quietly. “Trust us, you’ll be fine.” 

“I do,” you responded without a moment’s hesitation, pausing in your baby steps before continuing. “Trust you, I mean.”

The breath left his lungs in a quick rush, not expecting that, not expecting how sincere and matter of fact you had said it or how it affected him. It wasn’t fair, how quickly you could throw him off balance with what seemed like barely a thought. 

Joel cleared his throat, his hand tightening around yours. “Good,” he told you, voice remarkably soft and low before returning to normal. “I guess it’s time to get you on the ice, then?”

Morgan had to laugh a little at the fear that filled your face at Joel’s words, the way you immediately clung somehow even tighter to him. Smiling, he reached out to you, offering you his hand.

“You said you trusted us,” he told you, “So trust us. We’re not gonna let you get hurt.”

He watched your eyes meet his and fly down to his outstretched hand, back and forth between the two. One of your hands slowly let go of their iron grip on Joel and settled into his.

“Promise?” You looked from him to Joel, eyes painfully doelike. 

Once again, he shared a soft glance with his teammate before looking back at you. 

“We promise.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath and appearing to steel yourself. “Okay, alright, I’m good. Let’s fucking do this.”

Laughter peeled out of him and Joel. “There’s our Y/N,” his teammate grinned, helping you out onto the ice. The two of them kept their grips on you tight as you shakily stepped onto the ice, making sure you didn’t immediately fall.

Your first steps were wobbly, with the only thing keeping you from eating ice being him and Joel. Slowly, the three of you made your way across the ice. “There you go,” he encouraged you, “just like that. Slow and steady for right now—”

“Head up, try not to look down so much, alright? We’ve got you,” Joel reassured, the two of them going back and forth, offering advice and making sure nothing happened.

It took a bit, but soon you were giggling and flashing them pretty smiles, your grip on them loosening slowly but surely. It was enough for Morgan to speed up and swing around to skate backward in front of you.

Catching your worried glance, he smiled. “Still here, just letting you skate more on your own,” he squeezed your hand, now being held more for assurance than to help keep you up.

And so the three of you kept skating around the rink with you getting more and more confident until you were on your own and no longer needed them to hold on to. Morgan watched proudly as you went from wobbly steps to actual skating, though your arms still stayed out by your sides for balance. 

“Show off,” you yelled and laughed, attempting to shove Joel when he went to skate in wide circles around both of you. 

“What?” Joel threw his hands up, laughing loudly and dodging you. “I’m just skating circles around you.” 

“Ha ha,” Morgan grinned when you sarcastically laughed at Joel’s antics. “You’re simply hilarious, you dork.”

“I know,” Joel smiled happily, swooping in to smack a loud kiss to your cheek before speeding away. The kiss nearly knocked you over, leaving you gawking after him.

Morgan observed the two of you as he glided in front of you, a wide smile stretching across his lips. Small huffs of laughter left you as you skated—still not great, but definitely better—over to him, grabbing his hand and trying to tug him. 

“Morgan, come on,” you giggled, “help me avenge my honor.” 

“Oh, of course,” he replied, nodding his head in mock seriousness. He pulled you along in chase of Joel, the three of you laughing as you went around and around the rink. 

It wasn’t until you two caught him—Morgan suspected Joel had let them catch him, like they wouldn’t have been able to eventually—and Joel decided to try to teach you how to skate backward as Morgan followed that he realized something. 

He realized as he watched the two of you smiling and laughing, as he skated behind while Joel held your hands, as both of you made corny jokes and looked back at him to make sure he was still with you, he realized that—fuck.

He was fucked. 

Because he looked at you and heard your laughter and felt his heart tighten. Because he looked at Joel and the way he looked back at him with a fond look and toothy grin, and his heart stopped.

Because he looked at both of you and felt the same exact thing. And he realized it didn’t feel right when all three of you were together because you were just his closest friends. 

It was because when he was with the two of you, his heart skipped beats and all of these feelings weighed him down and lifted him up and—and—

Fuck. He was well and truly fucked, that’s what he realized.

~

Humming quietly under your breath, you picked up the plates from the table and made your way back to the kitchen. Stepping around Morgan, you reached down to put the dishes into the sink for him to wash. After you let them sit, you hoisted yourself up and onto the counter next to him and watched as he grabbed for one of the dirty plates.

“You think Joel will be back soon?” You asked him, tilting your head and pursing your lips. 

Morgan met your gaze and held it as he washed the plate. “Hopefully, we can’t start the movie without him.”

Dinner and a movie at their place. It was almost like a date if you let yourself think about it. But you didn’t, because they’re just your friends.

Your tall, attractive friends that you had completely platonic feelings for. Okay, mostly platonic feelings for. Fine, not at all platonic and actually very romantic feelings, but you refused to think about it. There were two of them and one of you and that, that was weird. Right? 

Right?

Kicking yourself mentally, you shot him a tiny smile. “Do we even want to know what he chose this time?” Every movie night, a different one of you had complete control over the movie. Tonight was, regretfully, Joel’s night to choose and he refused to tell either of you what you were watching. 

It went without saying that you were a bit scared. 

“I don’t think so,” Morgan made a face, putting another plate in the dish rack. You laughed lowly to yourself, watching a smile creep over his face as he glanced back at you.

“Either way,” you told him, “he needs to get back soon, I’m starting to miss the weirdo.” Shimmying down from the countertop, you walked over to the fridge to get a drink. 

Morgan made a noise of agreement, finishing up and turning off the sink. He turned to face you, grabbing a hand towel from next to him and leaning against the counter. He stared down at you without responding; the action causing you to grin slightly in confusion. 

“What’s up?” You questioned him, stretching your foot out to lightly tap his.

Head shaking slowly, his mouth opened a bit. Closing it, his eyebrows squished together in what seemed like deep thought. 

“Do you ever think about your soulmate?”

The question caught you off guard, making your body physically recoil just a touch. You shook your head, mouth hanging open. “Uhhh,” you stuttered, a startled laugh making its way past your lips. “Not if I can help it, why?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, brows still furrowed and an intent look painted across his face.

Shrugging, your eyes flitted around the room. At your side, your fingers twitched against the counter, creating a muted tapping noise. “Nothing, just...I don’t know. It’s not my favorite subject. You?”

“Yea,” he said with a forced smile, “Same thing, I guess. Not if I can help it.” 

You hummed softly, trying to figure out his expression and the change in subject. You couldn’t recall ever, ever, talking about soulmates with either Morgan or Joel. Not in the entire time you had known them. It was like some sort of weird unspoken taboo topic, never brought up, never talked about despite how popular it was for everyone else. Never asking what your soulmark was, or what date was splayed across your skin. Like there was a sense of fear lingering around it, which made sense for you but never for your boys. 

The boys. Not—not your boys, you scolded yourself.

“It’s just, you and Joel,” Morgan started, scaring you a little. “The two of you get along really well.”

Was he? Was he implying that you and Joel? Soulmates?

For a split second, your mind ran wild with the thought. To be soulmates with Joel, with his smiles for just you and Morgan, and his wild hair and dumb hats, and horrible facial hair and horrible jokes and—

How nice it would be. How irrevocably nice it would be. 

But even as you let yourself think about it for that split second, you knew it wasn’t what you wanted. Not entirely. Because it wasn’t just Joel in your daydream, but Morgan, too. With his pretty eyes and the look of exasperation he always had when he was with the two of you. The three of you. 

Always the three of you.

Shaking your head before you knew what you were doing, you replied, “Me and Joel? No, no, I mean—”

“You’re always happy and smiling around him,” Morgan cut you off, not making eye contact, “maybe the two of you—”

“I’m always happy and smiling because I’m with the two of you, you idiot,” you rolled your eyes as you cut him off in return, ignoring the way your heart pounded in your chest. 

He pursed his lips, about to retort when the sound of the door opening caught your attention. 

“Alright, assholes. I’ve got the goods,” Joel’s voice called out, the door closing behind him and keys clattering loudly into the horrible gritty tray you had gotten them. You and Morgan remained quiet as Joel made his way into the kitchen, digging around in the bag he was holding. 

He paused upon entering, eyes lifting to look from you to Morgan and back. His arms slowly fell, his face screwing up in cautious confusion. “So, uh, what did I...miss?” he asked, stepping inside apprehensively. 

“Soulmates, apparently,” you told him sarcastically when Morgan kept silent. You made grabby hands for the bag, reaching in to grab your bag of peach rings. 

Joel winced, a just barely audible ‘oh boy’ falling from his lips. “What got you on that god awful subject?”

You snorted, already shoving a peach ring into your mouth, “So you agree? It’s an awful subject?”

“Oh yea,” he nodded, reaching over and tugging at the peach ring balancing between your teeth before it tore in half, shoving his stolen half into his mouth and chewing obnoxiously. 

Pulling back, you batted at his outstretched hands, “you should’ve gotten your own. Stop stealing, thief.”

“I prefer the term rogue,” he replied, shooting you a cheeky grin. A soft ‘oh my god’ left you with a groan as you rolled your eyes and set the bag down.

Morgan’s continued silence worried you, and you could tell it unnerved Joel just as much. You stole glances at him, his posture tense and face troubled. The whole soulmates thing wasn’t your favorite, but what was going on inside of his head that had him like this? Was he still thinking about you and Joel—which was a ridiculous idea. But maybe that’s just because you knew the truth you resolved yourself to. That you just didn’t, for some unknown reason, have a soulmate to begin with. 

“What’s going on in your big boy brain,” Joel nodded at Morgan, eyebrow quirking as he watched him.

Morgan startled almost imperceptibly, his attention shooting to his teammate. He shook his head, “Nothing, just the whole soulmates thing.” 

“Still?” You frowned as you crossed your arms, puzzled. 

“Dude, just move on already,” Joel told him.

Morgan rolled his eyes, shifting his weight from foot to foot. You saw his grip on the countertop behind him tighten for a second before relaxing again.

“What’s going on?” You asked him, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm.

He flinched back, a tiny movement that you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t already watching. Swallowing roughly, you stopped and let your hand fall, hurt coating your insides. Morgan licked his lips and rubbed at his chin, face screwing up. 

“Don’t either of you ever think about the people you have feelings for being a perfect match for someone else? That it doesn’t matter what you feel in the end?”

Taken aback, you share a look with Joel as you grasped for words. Because you do think about that, about how Joel and Morgan have someone waiting for them that isn’t you and you don’t know when it’ll happen, only that it will and you’ll end up left behind like you always are. Alone. It wasn’t often, but late at night, the knowledge crept over you like thick sludge, refusing to move or leave.

“All the time,” Joel spoke before you could string together a sentence, his voice weak and a frown marring his features. “But it does matter, doesn’t it? Because you still have time with them now, and you can’t waste it for something that might happen.” 

“But it will,” Morgan stressed, the hand that had rubbed his chin flying out to his side with a look of helplessness. “It will happen.” 

“But you don’t know that,” you countered, fighting to get the words out. Your throat was tightening up, your heart pounding away. “No one really does. You don’t even have to end up with your soulmate.”

“Why wouldn’t you,” Morgan laughed without humor, “why wouldn’t you leave to be with the person hand picked for you?”

“Because I don’t have one,” slipped past your lips without your permission, the truth behind your words hitting you like a brick. Tears pricked behind your eyes as you swallowed harshly, stepping into yourself. 

Morgan moved back and hit the counter behind him with a dull thud, staring at you with an unreadable expression. To your other side, Joel looked down at his feet, hands shoved into his pants. 

“I never had one,” you continued, softer, quieter. Weaker. “I’ve always been the person without someone made just for me, but I’ve moved on. Because it doesn’t matter. It’s what I make of it, and it’s the scariest fucking thing, but it is what it is.”

“What if I can’t move on?” Morgan whispered, unable to meet your eyes. 

“Then the people you were scared of leaving weren’t worth it to begin with,” Joel told him, gazing at him sadly. 

Morgan’s face dropped forward into his hands, rubbing harshly. The three of you were silent, the tension nearly suffocating. Waiting, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I can’t just get over it,” Morgan said, shaking his head. 

“Why not,” Joel questioned just as quietly, running a hand through his hair. 

“Because I just can’t,” Morgan threw his hands up, voice raised as he stepped forward. “I can’t stop thinking that my feelings are a waste. That all of this is just a waste.”

“All of this?” You asked, uncomprehending.

“Yes, all of this,” he told you, gesturing wildly between the three of you. “Us. This. It’s a waste.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Morgan,” Joel was the one to ask this time, his voice low and daring. Daring Morgan to say it, to tell you exactly what he means.

“That I look at both of you and see two people who are going to leave me. Two people that I care about, that I want to be with, and know that it won’t last.”

The shock that came from him admitting his feelings and finally giving you the knowledge that you weren’t alone in your pining all these months still wasn’t enough to overwhelm the rest of his confession. The part that said that we were a waste, that cut a part of you that you kept hidden.

“Did you ever stop and think about how we felt?” The words left you as you stepped away, needing to get away. “That we might, for just a second, feel the same?” 

“But it doesn’t matter,” Morgan nearly cried, voice shaking. “It never did.” 

Nodding, you swallowed down tears. “Okay,” you whispered, maneuvering around Joel, who had remained quiet. “Okay.” 

“Where are you going?” Morgan asked, reaching toward you.

Nearly laughing, you told him, “Away. I’m sorry, Joel, but I can’t be near someone who thinks everything about us, our friendship, our relationship, our feelings, are a waste. Not right now.”

Joel nodded, glancing back at you and offering a weak smile. “Don’t worry, I get it.” 

Returning it, you turned and went to grab your things. 

“Wait,” you heard Morgan before you saw him try to follow you, looking between you and Joel. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It doesn’t matter, Morg,” you whispered, shrugging lightly. “I’m gonna go for awhile. I need to go.”

“No, please—”

Dodging him, you left the apartment. Vaguely, you heard Joel tell Morgan to stop, to let you go. Silently, you thanked him. You just couldn’t be near them right now, constantly reminded of your feelings and knowing at least one of them thought it was all useless.

All of this is just a waste. Us. This.

You nearly ran out of the building and to your car, just barely making it in before a yell forced its way out.

“Fuck,” you hit the steering wheel, letting your head droop forward to rest on it. You gave yourself a minute to pull yourself together and turn your car on, starting your journey back to the apartment you had slowly considered home less and less. 

And so you drove away from the one you had begun to consider home, and from the boys that made it feel like that, and to the place you could finally let yourself break down.

~

Day after day became a week and then two. There was now this tension between him and Morgan, you weren’t replying to his texts the same way, and he wasn’t even sure if you and Morgan had talked at all since that night. He hated it.

Joel hated this. 

It didn’t help that everything was bleeding over onto the ice and he couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop making rookie mistakes, couldn’t do anything when Morgan got yelled at for fucking up on a play. Couldn’t do anything.

The two of them were this close to getting benched, they both knew it. He knew this couldn’t keep happening, but he didn’t know how to stop it. 

He saw his phone light up on his nightstand out of the corner of his eye. Mentally, he debated leaving it and continuing his inner dilemma, but a glance at it convinced him otherwise.

Sitting up in bed, he struggled against the blankets tangled around his legs to reach over and grab it. He crashed back down, lifting his phone above him and pulling up the text.

[10:38pm] armrest ; coffee tomorrow? 

Seeing the name he had you under brought out a grin. You hated it the moment you saw it and argued that everyone was short next to a group of hockey players, which is exactly why both he and Morgan had you listed as it. In a sense, it was a reminder of better times.

[10:40pm] bumblebee ; yea ofc

[10:40pm] bumblebee ; the two of us?

He didn’t miss the fact that you texted just him and not the groupchat—the one aptly named the 3 stoiges, because Morgan made it with a typo and you and Joel kept it there to bully him. Time after time, Morgan tried to change it, and yet every time he went back, there it was once again in all of its dumbass glory. 

[10:43pm] armrest ; yea i wanted to talk about everything. just the two of us for now

[10:44pm] bumblebee ; im there just lmk when

You texted him back the time, and that was that. The entire exchange left him feeling underwhelmed and anxious. It felt wrong. Stilted. He missed the jokes and subtle digs at each other. The goodnight texts that just kept on going. 

He had a hard time going to sleep after that, not that he was doing a good job of it before. Tossing and turning, knowing that his teammate was his roommate and just a door over and that it didn’t matter because they hadn’t actually talked since the fight. And probably wouldn’t, since that was how things seemed to be going.

But tomorrow, maybe tomorrow would change things.

~

Morning came and went and he woke up to his alarm, feeling the opposite of well rested. He had slept like shit, just like he had been for the past two weeks. Getting out of bed, he got ready to go meet up with you, ignoring the absence of Morgan in the kitchen or on the couch. The lack of a good morning and a smile from his arguably favorite teammate. 

He left the apartment in a rush, something he had found himself doing a lot of lately. Not on purpose, he didn’t think. It was just like a lot of other things in his life now; it felt different. Less warm, duller. Void of life, of everything that made it home to him. 

An open bag of peach rings still abandoned on the kitchen counter, never moved. A little shittily made origami crane knocked over on the coffee table, never fixed. Hoodies missing, never returned. Reminders.

He made it to the little rinky dink cafe on the corner soon enough, refusing to admit he hesitated a bit before he went in. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you at all since that night, but he would be lying if he said it was the same as before. 

You were at their usual table, wearing a recognizable sweatshirt—one of theirs, but at this point he wasn’t really sure if it his or Morgan’s—and clutching a cup in your hands with a cup sitting across from you. Hearing the bell ring, you looked up and spotted him, giving him a tiny smile.

He didn’t want to think about the way the sight made the tension bleed from his body, the familiarity filling him with a rush of warmth. He made the short walk to you, slipping into one of the open seats.

Both of you ignored the still empty third seat.

“You’re late,” you told him, with just enough of a smile to take the edge off. 

He grinned back. “You telling me you weren’t, too?”

Your laughter rang softly through the mostly empty cafe. “No.”

“Thought so,” he replied, taking a sip of the coffee in front of him. His go to order, just the way he always got it. 

God, he missed you. 

A few beats of silence passed with the two of you just soaking up the other’s presence. 

Clearing your throat, you looked down at your hands and picked at your nail. “I think it’s probably time we talk about…”

“That night?” he finished for you. “Yea. I think so, too.”

Another pained smile passed between both of you. Another beat of silence. 

“You know—I mean—” you tried to say, taking a moment to close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I care about you and Morgan. About both of you. Not—not platonically either.” 

He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading, the heat creeping into his cheeks. “Yea, I figured.” You deadpanned at him and he had to resist the laugh bubbling up inside of him. He nudged your foot under the table. “Me, too. Non-platonically care about both of you.” 

“Yea,” you rolled your eyes, grinning, “I figured.”

Letting the laugh out, he shook his head. “Ass.”

You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink, “You started it.”

“I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too,” you whispered back, smile gaining a sorrowful edge.

Staring at you, he felt so many emotions. So many things, and yet something was still missing. 

Licking his lips, he risked a glance to his right, at the empty seat next to him. “It doesn’t—things don’t really feel the same without him, though.” 

“Yea,” you looked at the chair for a second, pain flashing across your face so fast he almost didn’t catch it. “They don’t.”

Hearing you agree, he let the breath he had been holding go. He picked at his cup, resisting the urge to down it. Dimly, he realized you had gotten his coffee before he got there. Which meant you bought it for him. The broke college student who rarely gets anything from here got him coffee without thinking twice. That feeling in his chest grew, fondness for you radiating throughout him. It was a small gesture, one you probably barely thought about, but it made him fall even harder.

“You know, I keep,” you stopped, tilting your head with a jaded smile before steamrolling on, “I keep hearing him say it in my head. ‘Everything’s a waste.’ And I know he didn’t—didn’t mean it like that, but…”

“But it still hurts,” he finished for you quietly, watching you and the way your shoulders hunched forward. 

“Yea, it still hurts.”

“We’re all just miserable anymore, aren’t we?” he asked, knowing the answer and asking anyway.

You laughed softly, glancing up at him. “That we are.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“No,” you held eye contact, steady and intent, “It wasn’t.”

The bell above the door jingled, your conversation dying down. The two of you nursed your drinks, avoiding the painful subject. Pushing it off and dragging it out just a little more.

“I don’t want us to end here, Joel,” you told him, voice barely a whisper. “Not like this. I don’t think I could handle it.”

“I don’t think I could either,” he replied. He could handle not being everything he wanted with the two of you. He resigned himself to that a long time ago. Could handle not being in a relationship, unable to hold or kiss either of you, to look at you and know both of you were his.

He could handle that. What he couldn’t handle? 

This. 

These past two weeks, the three of you barely talking. The tension, the awkwardness, the lack of everything that made you work. Not having either of you really, truly, in his life anymore. 

“I’m gonna talk to him,” he told you, not letting himself think too hard about it. He nodded, ignoring your unreadable expression, and kept talking. “I’m gonna talk to him and then we’re gonna—we’re gonna—”

“We’re gonna fix things?” You croaked out, gnawing at the inside of your bottom lip.

“Yea,” his throat tightened, making him force out the words, “Yea, we’re gonna fix things.”

~

He cornered Morgan later that night in the kitchen when he finally came out of his room to get something to eat. 

“We need to talk.”

Morgan jumped, keeping his back turned to Joel as he dug through the fridge. “About what?” He asked, the forced casualness of it shining clear.

“I think you know what.”

He slowly drew himself up and closed the fridge. “I don’t think—”

“Yea, we do,” he cut his roommate off, his arms folded across his chest. “We both know we do.”

Morgan turned around, facing him with his eyes closed and shaking his head. “Please—”

“We can’t keep going on like this, none of us can,” Joel forcibly told him, refusing to back down. He was doing this for them, for you and for Morgan and for him. “I was with Y/N earlier.”

Morgan flinched back, ducking his head. “Yea? How—how is—”

“Good,” he softened his voice, uncrossing his arms and taking a step toward him. “Come on, let's go sit down.”

“Okay,” Morgan whispered, nodding and following him slowly to the couch. They sat further away than they usually would, a space left open for the one not there with them. 

Joel opened his mouth to start, but Morgan cut him off before he could.

“I’m so sorry,” he told him, avoiding eye contact. Clenching his hands tightly on his lap, he squeezed them periodically. “I didn’t—didn’t mean anything I said that night. Not really. Not like that.”

“I know.” 

“I was just scared,” he kept going, still not looking at him, “I still am. Fuck, I wish I could go back and just—”

“Morgan,” Joel stopped him, getting up and moving to sit down on the table in front of him. “Look at me.”

It took a second, took him reaching out and nudging his face toward him. 

“We know. We’re all scared. And we can’t take back what was said, but we can move forward. Together. The three of us.” 

Morgan shook his head, tears lining his eyes as he leaned imperceptibly into his hand. “How?” 

He almost laughed, but stopped himself in time. “I don’t know,” he shrugged helplessly, smiling at him. “But we will. Because we care about each other. That’s all that matters.”

“Yea?” 

“Yea,” he laughed this time, his hand pressing further into Morgan’s face, the other coming up to rest on his knee. 

Morgan’s hand found his, and they stayed like that for a while, taking comfort in finally being near each other again. Mentally, physically. 

“I missed this,” Morgan told him, blinking softly up at him. 

Joel grinned back, “Well, I don’t know if we’ve ever done anything like this before, but—”

Morgan scoffed, rolling his eyes and pushing him away. One of his hands came up to subtly wipe at his eyes and Joel pretended not to notice as he reached out and pulled him back to him. 

Hand threaded in his hair, he tugged him in to rest his head against his neck. “Kidding,” he laughed, turning to nuzzle into Morgan’s hair. “But seriously, I did, too.”

Morgan’s hand squeezed his side, the two of them lapsing back into silence. At least, until he broke it.

“So, which one of us is gonna text our better part?” 

~

[8:17pm] frostbite ; come over?

The text from Morgan lit your phone screen and sent your heart into a steady gallop. You knew Joel was going to talk to him, but for some reason, you hadn’t thought it would be so soon. 

Was it bad that you didn’t feel ready?

Honestly, if you thought about it, you didn’t think you would ever feel ready. In a way, this was the buildup of months of dancing around each other. It was terrifying, that tonight everything would be out in the open.

You would be lying if you said a part of you couldn’t wait.

[8:19pm] armrest ; omw over

Rushing around, you put on shoes and threw back on the hoodie you were wearing earlier when you saw Joel. You grabbed your keys and locked the door behind you, making your way to your car. 

The drive to their apartment was short, though it still took everything in you to obey the traffic laws on the way there. The walk up filled you with even more anxiety, your hands shaking despite your best attempts to settle your nerves.

You knocked lightly on their door, unable to manage more than a mediocre tap. Luckily, it was Joel that opened the door, beckoning you inside with a hand on your waist. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, sending heat into your cheeks.

“He’s in the kitchen making tea,” Joel told you, closing the door behind you. 

You nodded, dropping your keys onto the Gritty tray. Together, you made your way to the kitchen. 

Seeing Morgan for the first time in two weeks, after not having spoken at all was...was strange. It hit you like a fist to the gut. 

You saw how exhausted Joel looked earlier, disheveled and messy. But compared to Morgan, he looked only a bit different from usual. Morgan, though—

He looked rough. 

Heavy bags under his eyes, hair wild, clothes wrinkled. Even his shoulders were hunched in more than usual. Your heartstrings tugged just looking at him. 

“Hey,” he mumbled when he looked up and saw you, mustering up a weak smile. 

Slowly, you made your way to where he stood. He set down the cup of tea he was reaching out to offer you, worry plastered on his face.

He took a deep breath and started to talk, “Look, I’m so sor—”

You caused him to stop mid-sentence, throwing your arms around him and gripping tight. “You’re such an asshole,” you told him, voice muffled in his shirt. Burying your face deeper, his arms came up and wrapped tightly around you.

“I know,” he said, laying his head on yours, “I’m so sorry.” 

You didn’t respond, taking the moment to really let everything sink in. Giving him one last squeeze, you let go and stepped back, picking up the mug that you claimed as yours on one of your first visits.

“Living room?” you asked, smiling at the two of your boys—because you finally let yourself give in and call them that, because they were yours and you didn’t plan on letting go so easily. 

“Living room, it is,” Joel answered, reaching around to grab his mug and guide you over. Morgan followed behind, staying close. 

Like none of you could bear to be more than a few feet anymore. It was just a tad ironic at this point. 

The three of you settled down in your usual seats, with you in the middle, Joel to your right, and Morgan on the left. You put your tea down after taking a sip, smiling when it tasted exactly how Morgan always makes it for you. 

“So, I guess this is where we talk about everything,” Morgan said, putting his cup down next to yours and turning to face the two of you. 

Joel followed suit, nodding. “That it is.”

For a second, the three of you sat there in silence, looking around at each other. 

“Any volunteers to go first?” You ventured finally, raising your eyebrows. Your question earned you a pair of laughs. 

“I’m the one that started this mess, so I’ll go, I guess.” Morgan darted his tongue out to lick his lips, glancing between the two of you. 

“That night, I let my fear take over. And I know I’ve already told both of you, but I’m sorry.”

“Morgan,” you tried, but he stopped you. 

“Let me talk,” he smiled, so you let him. “At that point, I just really let myself consider that I had feelings for the two people I thought of as my closest friends. And it made me scared, because there are soulmates out there and I know—I think—I don’t have one. But as far as I knew, both of you did. The thought of losing you to someone I had no chance against, it made me lash out. 

That was wrong. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. We’re adults, mostly, and I should’ve handled it better. I’m sorry.”

You were aware you were gaping a little, but you were unsure on how to stop. Joel got his bearings back before you.

“Yea, you definitely handled it like shit,” he said, shrugging and getting a snort out of you and a ‘fucking hell’ from Morgan. “But it is what it is. It got the ball rolling and we can’t go back. We can only go on.”

“When the fuck did you get good at talking about your feelings?” You turned to him, an incredulous look on your face. “Seriously, you were like the last person I expected to be spouting off relationship wisdom.”

“What can I say,” he grinned, “I’m a man of wisdom. Isn’t that why you care about me non-platonically?”

“Why do I like you,” Morgan muttered to himself, covering his eyes, “Literally why.”

“Moving on,” you announced, choking back a laugh, “On the subject of soulmates, as far as I’m aware, I don’t have one either, so there’s that. And right now, I don’t know if me having one would even stop me from wanting to at least see if this is something worth having. Which I think it is.”

“Yea, I remember you mentioning the soulmate lack,” Joel nodded, “And I agree, with the second part.”

Bumping his shoulder, you went to pick up your tea. 

“So that’s two out of three?” Morgan asked, looking at both of you.

“Make that three out of three,” Joel butted in, raising his hand. “Like 99% sure I don’t either.”

“So none of us have soulmates?” You looked between Morgan and Joel. “Really?”

“Lucky?” Morgan hazarded a guess. 

“I’ll take it.” Joel grinned.

“And to clarify, there are mutual feelings here? Threeway feelings?” 

“Don’t—don’t call it that,” you replied to Morgan, wincing. “That’s just bad.”

“I don’t know,” Joel told you, grinning, “I like it. Threeway Feelings. New groupchat name?”

“Yes.”

“No.” 

You glared at Morgan, repeating, “No, motion overruled.”

“You’re two to one,” Joel teased.

Smiling sweetly back, you told him, “Cute that you think this is a democracy.”

Laughter rang through the apartment. It was almost like the past two weeks had never happened at all. 

“But let me clarify,” Joel started, sitting up straighter and holding up a hand, fingers up, “All of us think we’re soulmate-less, and even if we’re not, it’s something we’ll deal with when we get there,” one finger down, “All of us have feelings for the other two people in this room,” another finger, “and we’re not dating yet?”

“Correct,” you confirmed.

“Sounds about right so far,” Morgan nodded.

“But we should, though,” Joel said, glancing at you, “Date, I mean. It’s the next logical step, right?”

“Kinda worrying when he uses logic,” you leaned over to stage whisper to Morgan. 

He nodded, leaning close, “I agree.”

“I’m right here, jackasses,” Joel threw a throw pillow at Morgan, apparently taking the name literally. 

“Were you? I couldn’t tell,” Morgan replied sarcastically, throwing it back. 

Closing your eyes, you sucked in a deep breath and tried not to laugh. 

“I agree with Joel, though,” you told them, stopping them in their tracks. “About dating.”

“You wanna date us?” Morgan asked you, Joel pointing at him to back up his question. 

Rolling your eyes, you smiled, “Yes, I wanna date you. Do you wanna date me?”

You felt ridiculous for asking, like a flashback to kindergarten with a note saying ‘do you like me? yes or no’.

“I don’t know, what are the options?” Joel asked, pretending to think about it.

“Yes or yes,” you deadpanned.

“I think I’m gonna have to go with yes on that one,” Morgan told you, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. 

“I’m gonna have to go with yes, as well,” Joel nodded, kissing your other cheek. 

“Okay,” you tried to ignore the pulsating heat in your cheeks. 

“Wait,” Morgan stopped, clearing his throat and looking over at Joel, “Are we? I mean—”

“Dating?” Joel asked, lips quirking into a soft smile. 

Morgan nodded, staying quiet. 

Joel shook his head and laughed, “Yea, I think I could manage dating both of you.”

“Yea?” Morgan smiled. 

“Yea.” Joel returned it.

“Cool,” Morgan said, running a hand through his hand before stopping and frowning. “I know that all of that shitshow was my fault, but we’re never doing that again, right?”

“Oh, seconded,” you immediately replied, “Never again.”

“Thirded,” Joel agreed, nodding wholeheartedly.

You looked at your boys—now officially yours—and smiled. 

~

Their first date, it was decided, would be dinner at Morgan and Joel’s apartment, just the three of them. Private, no pressure. 

You showed up, dressed up but not too much, as per Joel’s vague instructions, at 8pm on the dot, making it the only time you were ever on time for something. You liked to think that if it wasn’t at your boys’ apartment, they’d be late, too.

“Well, don’t you look lovely,” Morgan let you in, bending to kiss your hairline. 

“I could say the same for you,” you replied, taking him in, pressing a kiss to his chin.

Not the usual pre-game suit, you noticed, unable to decide if it was disappointment or relief in your stomach. He was clad in a nice pair of pants, his dark blue button up undone at the top and the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Sans shoes, because of course.

On the whole, a very nice look, in your humble opinion.

He noticed your glance down at his lack of footwear and grinned, “Footwear optional.”

“You should’ve mentioned that sooner,” you groaned, bending down to remove your own shoes that had already begun to pinch at your toes. 

He laughed, waiting for you to finish and take his hand, leading you to the kitchen. 

Joel waited for you there, bent over a pot on the stove. Shirt completely unbuttoned, tie hanging around his neck. Shaking your head, you stepped up behind him to wrap your arms around his back, kissing his shoulder blade. 

“Who let you be in charge of dinner?” You teased, catching his eye as he turned around in your embrace to return it. 

“Say the word and we’ll order pizza,” he whispered back into your ear, lips lightly brushing it.

A tingle ran down your spine as you withdrew, sharing a secret smile and ignoring Morgan’s snort. 

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” you told him, leaning against a counter. 

A laugh bubbled up and out of you at Morgan’s subtle wince. “Dinner’s just about done, anyway. Guess we’ll find out,” he said, getting out a few plates. 

“So, what exactly is on the menu?” You questioned, unable to quite tell. 

Joel looked up at you, opening his mouth and closing it quickly. “You know,” he answered, hand bracing on the countertop, “I’m not sure if I can pronounce it right.”

Giggles flew out of you even as you felt a sense of apprehension take over. “This is gonna be good.”

Sharing a laugh, you got to work setting the table and bringing over the food, which you cautiously noted smelled somewhat decent. Not—not really entirely good, but decent.

“Not gonna lie,” Joel told both of you once everyone was seated with a plate, “Kinda scared to eat this.”

“You’re really not filling me with confidence here, babe,” you replied, getting a tiny forkful of food. 

“On three?” Morgan proposed. 

“On three,” you and Joel agreed. 

“One,” you started.

“Two,” Joel continued.

“Three.”

You shoved the food into your mouth, barely giving yourself a moment to reconsider. Slowly, you chewed, watching your boyfriends’ faces.

It seemed the general consensus was…not good. 

“I think we fucked up somewhere,” Joel swallowed loudly, grimacing.

“Oh, we definitely did,” Morgan agreed, pushing back his chair and standing. “I’ll get my phone.”

“Pizza?”

“Pizza.”

~

“We’re only here to get essentials,” Morgan reminded the two of you, grabbing a cart. 

You and Joel followed behind, hands swinging between your bodies. “Yea, totally,” you smiled, “Essentials.”

“Of course,” Joel nodded gravely, before turning to you and whispering, “We’re definitely getting the stuff for ice cream sundaes, right?”

Giggling, you nudged into him. “He said essentials, Joel. Obviously, we’re getting the stuff for ice cream sundaes.”

“I can hear both of you, you know,” Morgan called back, looking over his shoulder at the pair of you. 

You shot him a smile and blew him a kiss, knowing Joel was beside you doing something just as cheesy.

The next thing you knew, Joel was speeding up and dragging you along to catch up to your other boyfriend. “I’m getting in,” he dropped your hand, lifting a leg over the side of the cart. 

“No—Joel—oh my god,” Morgan tried to jerk the cart away, laughter spilling out of him.

“Joel, you’re not getting in the cart,” you shoved him, blissfully ignoring the stares coming from the old lady down the aisle. 

Joel pouted exaggeratedly, turning to face you. “Why not?”

In a quick motion, you propelled yourself into the cart. “Because I am!” Your giggles came out maniacal, joined with Joel’s bark of laughter and Morgan’s groan of disappointment. 

“Where’s the food gonna go?” Morgan asked, continuing to push the cart with you in it. 

“In the cart with Y/N,” Joel told him, bumping lightly into his shoulder with a grin. 

You pointed at Joel, agreeing. 

Morgan shook his head, that exasperated fondness prevalent on his face as he sighed and tried not to smile. “Fine,” he relented. 

~

“You know, that monkey kinda looks like you,” Morgan overheard you tell Joel as he paid for the cotton candy. 

“You’re such an ass,” Joel pushed you, laughing. 

“Speaking of asses,” Morgan said, coming up behind you and handing over the cotton candy, “Do you think they have donkeys here?”

You threw your head back with a loud laugh. 

“This is the zoo,” Joel replied, grabbing his hand, “...I actually don’t know. We should check.”

“In the whole zoo, you want to see donkeys?” You asked in bemusement, leaning into him. 

He shrugged, wrapping his unoccupied arm around you. “What can I say, I’m a man with taste.”

“Oh, for sure,” Joel retorted, snorting and squeezing his hand in his own.

~

Limbs tangled, you relaxed on the couch with your boys.

A book in one hand, you carded your fingers through Joel’s hair with the other. Sprawled across your lap as you rested against Morgan, he was the perfect image of relaxation. Rain pattered against the windows as a romcom played in the background, the volume just low enough to zone out. Morgan and Joel—okay, just Morgan, because you were pretty sure Joel was half asleep at this point—were watching, attention set on the tv.

All in all, an excellent night. 

~

Seeing your boys over the summer was difficult, but you made it work. You always did.

It was one of those incredibly rare days where you lounged about in the midsummer heat with them, Morgan and Joel taking a slight break from offseason training to just be together. It was nice, and it was quiet and exactly what you needed. 

You had made the mistake of putting on one of their thinner, more threadbare hoodies last night and the decision was catching up to you. You untangled yourself from the pile of limbs on the bed belonging to your two boyfriends, ignoring their cries of protest, and just barely managed to get up. 

First, you were gonna turn up the air conditioning, and then you were gonna take off this damn hoodie. 

Meandering over to the A/C, you accomplished one mission and moved on to the next one. Pulling the hoodie over your head, you felt your shirt slide up and refuse to separate from it. 

“Hey,” you heard Joel call from behind you, “Did you get a tattoo without telling us?”

Confused, you yanked the hoodie the rest of the way off and turned back to them. “No?” You answered, but it came out less sure than you would’ve liked. 

“I definitely saw something on your back,” Joel insisted, reaching over and swatting at Morgan to get his attention. 

“Hmm?” Morgan grumbled, switching sides to look at you. 

“Come here,” Joel beckoned, an action you reluctantly obeyed. His hand on your hip turned you to face away from him, your back in his line of sight.

You shivered, feeling his fingers glide across your skin as he lifted your shirt. In an instant, you felt his grasp waver, a choked gasp slamming out of him.

“Holy shit,” Morgan breathed, the bed creaking as he shot up. 

Spinning, you turned to face them, grabbing at your back. “What?” You demanded, terrified of their answer, “What it is?”

Adrenaline poured through your veins as Joel lifted his gaze, now wet with tears, to meet yours with a wide smile.

“It’s a soulmate tattoo,” he told you, standing up and cupping your face. His lips came down fast and hard to yours, the emotion behind the kiss slamming into you. 

You felt Morgan come to stand behind you, lifting your shirt to look. His fingers traced down your spine, almost reverently, sending shiver after shiver through your body. 

“Liar,” you croaked when you and Joel split, refusing to believe it. 

Joel shook his head with a disbelieving laugh, “I’m not. Go look in the mirror.”

You pulled away, making your way slowly to the mirror by the door, your boys close behind. You twisted around, craning your head as you pulled up your shirt. Your breath stilled to a halt when scrawled writing along your spine become visible out of the corner of your eye with every inch of skin shown. 

And there, once your shirt was all the way up, was an indisputable soulmate tattoo curving down your spine.

morgan frost ~ joel farabee

The names of your boys—your boys, you nearly cried—written in calligraphy on your body, separated only by three flowers. 

“Soulmates,” Morgan whispered, finger stilling on the flowers. 

Recognition sparked deep in your mind, a memory surfacing behind your eyes.

Your eyes lingered on the flowers lining the pathway, your mind trying futilely to identify which ones they wer—

“I know those flowers,” you mumbled, lips parting as you stared uncomprehendingly. 

Joel laughed a little, fingers running up and down your side. “I didn’t think you were into flowers.”

You shook your head, fixated and unable to look away. “No, I know those flowers. Asters. They were—”

“In the park by the cafe,” Morgan finished for you, catching on, “The day I bumped into you.”

“The day we met,” you said, smiling. “I was trying to figure out what kind they were, it’s why I was distracted. Why we—”

“Met,” Morgan gaped, a smile slowly spreading across his lips. 

You nodded, unable to talk just yet. The sight of those flowers, ones that you hadn’t really given any thought to after you had googled them one day after being curious. Flowers that were now imprinted on your body, a permanent reminder of everything you gained in such a relatively short amount of time.

To your side, you watched Joel take off his shirt and turn around, revealing flowing names down his spine separated by three dainty flowers. 

y/n ~ morgan frost

Morgan mirrored him on your other side and sure enough, there were your names in identical print and the same tiny three flowers. 

joel farabee ~ y/n

A perfect set.

~ fin ~

#morgan frost #joel farabee #morgan frost imagine #joel farabee imagine #joel farabee x reader #morgan frost x reader #my own #mine #writing #renwrites #philadelphia flyers #imagines #soulmate au #poly relationship #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl writing #morgan frost fic #joel farabee fic #nhl fic #hockey writing #hockey imagines #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #beezer #frosty #flyers

[wendimydarling]

The Thirst is Real

Summary: Little Freya might not be who she says she is...

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Little Freya 

Word Count: 1965

Warnings: uhhh.... slow burn; dirty thoughts; erotic thoughts; mentions of arousal, daddy kink, spanking, oral, masturbation, and thigh riding; size kink; slight manhandling; dom/sub kink if you squint.

A/N: So it’s been buzzing around The Cavillry that @littlefreya​ is either a mole in the community or Henry himself... @agniavateira​ (my beautiful goddess of a beta who also beta’d this fic for me) and I had a sensational conversation about what Freya and Henry’s weekly meet-ups would entail, and this beautiful birthday present was born! It’s also a little different that what I’ve done before, as I might have used some real life thirst examples in the fic. 

Did I call you out? I guess you’ll just have to read. 😈

You’ll get another gift on your actual birthday my love, but for now, please enjoy!!

~~~~~

Freya adjusted her curls in the mirror, adding one last dash of eyeliner. She was preparing for her weekly meeting with Henry, but this time her stomach was twisting itself in a spiral like a shirt ready to be dyed. 

When Henry first suggested the idea of her going on Tumblr to spy for him, she was hesitant at first. What if she couldn’t make friends? What if they didn’t trust her? But now, with a solid 6k followers under her belt, she knew she could say just about anything and people would flock to the thirst.

With a nervous look at her reflection, Freya gathered her things and headed out the door, sending a quick couple of texts to Henry.

I’m on my way. You should post on your IG stories… they’re wondering what you’re up to this morning. 

Perfect, thanks. I’ll send you what I’m about to upload.

A couple of seconds later Freya received his text, quickly setting up a post and waiting for Henry to update his Instagram. She smiled to herself; Tumblr would be buzzing in a matter of seconds once she posted, and what better way to show Henry what went on in the torrential world of social media than to show him live? Freya’s phone chimed again, indicating Henry had done as she’d suggested. 

She couldn’t help but grin like a demon as she hit the small blue button.

Pocketing her phone, Freya enjoyed the scenery on the short walk to Henry’s place. He was in London briefly as was she, so they were meeting at his home instead of Skyping like usual. Why she was so nervous, she didn’t know… Henry had been a friend for quite a few years now, even becoming one of her closest companions. He confided in her and she in him, and it was always a joy to see him. Every day she looked forward to their flirty banter. But that was easier when it was over the phone; doing so in person was an entirely different matter.

Freya reached Henry’s small home and knocked on the door. She’d only been there a couple of times, but the tiny house never ceased to give her a wonderful sense of charm and sensibility. A loud bark and clack of nails on the floor signaled that Kal was ready and waiting to greet her, which meant Henry wouldn’t be far behind. Freya fidgeted with her fingers and chewed on her lip in taut anticipation.

The door swung wide and there was Henry, sporting a puppy dog grin on his face and his large frame filling the entire entryway. His muscular chest was practically bursting from the snug grey shirt he wore, and his dark blue jeans couldn’t have looked more sinful. He had Kal by the collar as if the dog weighed nothing, and Freya couldn’t help but feel incredibly small. Henry reached out his hand, softly tugged her bottom lip from her teeth, then swooped her up for a one-armed squeeze.

“It’s so good to see you,” he murmured against her ear, sending chills down Freya’s spine. Her feet dangled helplessly as she wrapped her own arms around his neck, inhaling the sharp scent that had long since faded from the hoodie he’d let her “steal”. The fact that he was holding her petite stature in one arm and still controlling Kal with the other wasn’t lost to Freya, and the images it provoked in her mind of what exactly he could do to her with that kind of strength made her tingle. 

Oh, the positions he could put her in...

All too soon Henry set Freya down, shaking her from her sudden daydream. 

“Come on in,” he said, maneuvering Kal and ordering him to sit. Freya crossed the threshold, imagining what it would be like if she was in a long, white gown…

“I’m making a smoothie, would you like one?” Henry broke into her thoughts again and Freya flushed, hurriedly setting her bag on the table and pulling out her laptop. 

“Just some water please,” she replied, swallowing thickly as she realized how dry her throat was. She logged into Tumblr as Henry bustled about in the kitchen and quickly reblogged a few thirsty comments, scrolling through to find some good ones while she waited for Henry.

“Go ahead and start, tell me what ‘The Cavillry’ has been up to this week,” he stated, not quite a command but it thrilled Freya nonetheless. Stupid filthy gutter brain. She pulled out her notes and dove straight in.

“Well, a few of them like Lisa and Berry have a theory that there’s a mole in the community,” she laughed. “Some of them even like to surmise that I’m you!”

“Do they really?” Henry’s deep chuckle resonated throughout the living space and Freya closed her eyes momentarily, picturing that chuckle after a rather exhilarating round of cardio between soft, silken sheets…

“What else are they saying?” Henry’s voice was in Freya’s ear and she jumped, startled yet again from her indecorous thoughts. Henry set her water down next to the laptop and placed his hands on the table, caging her in his warmth as he leaned over her shoulder to read. Freya felt the familiar flush of arousal start to creep its way up her thighs but she did her best to ignore it, continuing on with her notes. 

“Marta made some really funny memes,” she stammered, “And Demi excels at clipping audios, where it sounds like…”

“How does it sound?” Henry’s hot breath ghosted over her ear, and his exhale came out nearly a growl. Freya felt lucky she was sitting down, positive her knees would have given out on her if she hadn’t been. 

“Like you just had a--an orgasm,” she faltered, grabbing her glass of water for a big gulp. Henry hummed, and Freya nearly choked on the clear liquid. 

“What else do they say? I want you to read it… out loud.”

Freya was shocked for a moment. What was he playing at? Wait a minute... this is a game; Henry is playing a game. Emboldened by her sudden epiphany, Freya switched personalities from timid bird to devilish vixen, determined to win whatever it was that Henry had set in motion. She arched her back and leaned her head against Henry’s shoulder, pointing at the screen.

“Well look, see what your post this morning has done? We descend into a thirsting frenzy every time.” 

She scrolled through a couple of posts, landing upon one that would give her what she needed.  

“For example, Miya writes: 

‘I guess good to know he’s on a morning run instead of fapping off… 

But good sir, you will have to shower after that no? And unless he’s a never nude, he’s going to be naked very very soon ladies. KEEP THAT IN MIND! IN A SHORT FEW MINUTES, HENRY WILL BE NAKED AND RUBBING HIMSELF IN THE SHOWER.’ ”

 Freya emphasized the last sentence and was rewarded with a small hitching of Henry’s breath. He recovered quickly.

“However did they know,” he quipped in a low rumble, reaching over Freya’s hand to do some scrolling of his own. Her hand was trapped in his but her thoughts were elsewhere, immediately flooded with the image of Henry getting off in the shower, water cascading over his hairy torso down the line of his abs and through the rabbit trail on his groin to the surely insurmountable…

“This one next,” he stated, drawing her back to the present. His thumb brushed softly over her skin before landing just out of reach of her touch. Freya focused her attention on the screen and a small groan escaped her lips. He’d chosen one of Wendi’s Smutbombs.

“...My eyes were instantly drawn back to his fierce gaze.

“You wanted to use that mouth,” he snarled, staring at me with lewd concentration.

“So use it.”

Freya’s palms grew clammy at the thought of using her mouth around Henry, in exactly the way the raucous words depicted. The way he would stretch her tiny lips until they burned, the way he’d fuck her throat without a care, the way he’d…

Henry grabbed Freya’s hand and abruptly slapped his phone on her palm, severing the thought. 

“Read this one,” Henry commanded her again, his voice now clear and authoritative. This time his tone left no room for argument; he was doing it on purpose. His arms still pinned her to the table with no way to escape, and she could feel the dominance that was dripping off of him tingling down her spine. 

Freya looked at the small screen, recognition of the words dawning on her face. She faltered, and cleared her throat.

“Yes, my bottom is always bare, Sherlock. Bare and ready for you to spank me and take me any which way you want.”

“Who wrote that?” he questioned sternly. Freya took a deep breath.

“I did.”

“Read the next one.”

Freya whimpered, clenching her thighs together tightly. 

“Fuck this shit I want to die on this man’s thighs.”

“Who wrote that?”

“I did.”

“Keep going.”

Freya’s chest was heaving. Her head was swimming with lust and need. Her arousal had long since wet her panties to the point of extreme discomfort. She was certain Henry could smell it too, as she certainly could and his head was still right next to hers. She watched his fists tighten on the table, the veins in his arms becoming more prominent with every passing second. Freya imagined what his hands would look like with one wrapped around her throat and the other buried knuckle deep inside her…

“I said keep going; you’ve got one more.”

It wasn’t just Henry’s voice this time that dragged Freya back to reality; he wrapped his hand firmly around her nape and pointed her toward his phone. 

She blinked rapidly and scrolled to the last quote. 

“...They share a mutual smile and she forces herself to look away.

They have always liked each other, he has always been kind to her.

Sometimes he would touch her as they sat with friends, a feverish stroke, innocent or by mistake, but that would be enough to make her heart flutter like a huge butterfly in the cage of her chest. 

To see him physically hurts sometimes. Especially on a night like this when she is supposed to be happy, yet her heart feels sorrowful.”

The moment her lips finished moving Freya was pulled off the bench and thrust against the wall. Henry pressed his thigh between her legs, his own arousal evident as it strained against the ridged fabric of his jeans. His face was gentle and sincere but his eyes were as dark with lust as she was certain hers were, and the tremor of his voice left no room to imagine anything but desire.

“Who wrote that?” he whispered softly.

“I did,” Freya whispered back.

“Did you mean it?” Henry searched her face, looking for any scrap of evidence that would present him with permission. Freya brought a hand up to his curls, brushing the one out of his eyes that always seemed to disobey.

“Every word.”

Henry slammed his mouth against Freya’s, probing her deep and hard. She kissed him back with just as much fervor, tugging on his curls and wrapping her legs around his waist as he hoisted her in the air. Never in her life had she ever thought this moment would happen, that he would want her this way. But now, here in his arms with his lips on hers and on their way to his bedroom, she couldn’t picture anything else. 

The man had ruined her for anyone else over a decade ago, and she’d been thirsty for far, far too long.

~~~~~

@wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ @killjoy-assbutt-1112​ @achaoticaugust​ @demivampirew​ @raspberrydreamclouds​ I hope you don’t mind that I used your thirst! I though it might be fun, but if you don’t like it just let me know, I’ll remove it. 😊

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fic #author story #birthday present #i love you boo

[woogyu]

A World Tinted Gold | Mingyu; Chapter Two

Kalon; beauty that is more than skin-deep

streamer!y/n x werewolf!mingyu

notes; werewolf au

word count; 1749

previous | next | masterlist

summary; The only werewolves you encountered were the ones living inside your video games. They were nothing more to you than mythical creatures you often had to kill in order to complete objectives. You had a good thing going with your online gaming setup. Your supporters were kind and usually tipped well during streams. Sure it meant you had to deal with the occasional creep sliding into your DMs, but it was worth it. Playing games online was putting you through college. Little did you know your quiet life was about to be turned upside down at the hands of someone you didn’t think existed outside of the virtual world.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Are you seriously watching that steamer again? Why don’t you just play the games yourself?” Seungcheol questioned as he stepped into Mingyu’s room, chuckling as the younger wolf quickly turned around and blushed.

“It’s not the same… I’m not really interested in the games, I’m interested in her” Mingyu admitted sheepishly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. He didn’t know what it was about you that made him so transfixed, but he had a hard time tearing his eyes from the screen. Hell, just the other day when you read his comment aloud, he was over the moon.

“It’s rare for you to show interest in a girl at all” Seungcheol remarked, eyebrow pulled up in question. Until a wolf found its mate there was little reason to get involved with or show interest in others romantically. There were of course some wolves that preferred being unmated; it allowed them to be explorative with their romantic partners. Not all wolves longed to find their mate, and not all wolves would end up finding their mates. He knew destiny had a hand to play in it all, but the thought of never finding who he was supposed to be with made the wolf in him whine. Mingyu wasn’t an unmated wolf that enjoyed exploring his options, he was desperately waiting for the day he met his mate. Right now, Mingyu wasn’t sure if he was simply lonely or if there was something more going on.

“There is just something about her…” Mingyu started, pausing for a second to find the right words, “I just have a hard time tearing my eyes away from the screen. There is something about her that just draws me in” Mingyu explained. He wasn’t doing a very good job at explaining the feelings that bubbled up inside him when he saw you on screen. When he tried to explain it he could never quite describe the feeling that settled over his chest and body, it was a warmth almost like a subtle glow within him.

Seungcheol didn’t comment on it any further as he moved into the room and crossed his arms over his chest. Mingyu knew better than to ignore the alpha, closing his laptop he turned to face Seungcheol fully. Their pack had a different dynamic than most. Normally a thirteen-member pack would be impossible because of the strain it put on the head alpha. It worked for them because while Seungcheol was their main alpha, they had two secondary alphas, Jihoon and Soonyoung. The three of them shared the work of looking after the group and it worked perfectly for them. He liked that the alphas didn’t abuse their power, there was a lot of lenience in the pack and it made for less confrontations.

“Joshua has to head into town tonight and won’t be able to run the perimeter. Would you be alright with doing it?” Seungcheol asked, pursing his lips as he looked down at the younger wolf. Mingyu normally enjoyed running the perimeter, it meant he got to shift and stretch his body, but this time he was a little bit more hesitant with his answer. Mingyu knew that later on tonight you would have a new video posted and he would have to wait even longer to watch it. It seemed like a silly reason, but his heart ached at the thought of not being able to ‘see’ you on screen until early tomorrow morning.

“Sure! I don’t mind” Mingyu answered with a half-smile, Seungcheol never asked him for much so he figured he could help him out with this. Seungcheol breathed a sigh of relief as he leaned back against the wall.

“Thank you, I didn’t really want to be the one stuck doing it again” Seungcheol admitted, the alpha had been on perimeter duty for the past 3 nights and must have been eager for a good night’s sleep. Mingyu smiled and nodded his head a few times, his own wants would just have to be paused for a little while.

Before leaving the room Seungcheol patted him on the shoulder, yawning a little bit as he headed toward what Mingyu assumed was his own room. Mingyu was thankful that Seungcheol’s parents had left him their families pack house. Coming from a family of alpha’s certainly had its perks, and it meant they all got their own rooms.

Once Seungcheol was gone he checked the time, he had roughly 4 hours before he would have to head out.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“I just don’t understand what this trend is supposed to be” you complained to Ciri for probably the 20th time over your video call. Apparently, there was a trend going around among streamers to recreate video games in real life. You hadn’t thought much of it when it first gained popularity, but now Ciri thought it would be a good idea for the two of you to join in on it. Her big plan was a two-part video where the two of you recreated iconic aspects of the Witcher 3 video game. You should have known she would want to do it, she already owned a Cirilla cosplay.

“It’s going to be fun” Ciri reminded you, drawing out the last syllable as she drew a fake scar along her face, effectively transforming herself into the iconic video game character.

“Come on, I even sent you the Yennefer cosplay and everything!” she exclaimed, using her make up brush to point at the camera accusingly. You rolled your eyes as you reached up to adjust the dark black wig that you now wore. To her credit, Ciri had sent you everything you would need to transform yourself into Yennefer of Vengerberg. How she somehow guessed your sizing right you would have no idea. Probably the Witcher powers.

“I wish we lived in the same city” you sighed, leaning your head back and looking up at the ceiling. Things would be so much easier if you and Ciri, and the other girls, didn’t live so far away from one another. But that was the price you paid for finding your friends online.

“Me too” Ciri said with a gentle sigh, setting her make up tools down and picking up her phone, her face coming into full view.

“I sent you the script, I won’t be able to stay on the call with you while we are filming because data rates are crazy, but I know you’ll do amazing” Ciri said with a reassuring smile. You would have to film all of this on your own, which was just a little bit intimidating. Ciri’s script mostly just directed you to do a lot of handwaving and she would add in the ‘magic’ elements later.

“Just find a good spot in the woods and it’ll be perfect” Ciri finished with a nod of her head. You sighed, straightening yourself up and looking down at your phone.

“I’ll call you later on when I’m finished to send you the video” you mumbled, pouting a little bit as you stood and picked up your phone.

“Good luck!” Ciri told you, waving a little bit before ending the call. Great, now you actually had to go do it…

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were lucky there was quite a bit of woods around where you lived, the problem was going to be trying to get to the woods without anyone seeing the ridiculous clothes you were wearing. You threw on a huge coat, effectively covering up most of the costume. After grabbing the bag with your equipment, you ventured outside, keeping your head down as you walked to avoid drawing attention.

Twenty minutes later you were standing in the middle of a beautiful calm forest. Now that you were here you questioned why you didn’t come out here more often. You couldn’t hear the loud noises that came with living in a bustling city and the air felt fresh on your face. Once you reached a small clearing by a river you laid your things down and took a deep breath, basking in the coolness of the air. Maybe this trend wouldn’t be so bad.

After setting up your camera in a place you were at least half sure wouldn’t result in it falling over, you walked into frame and took a deep breath. You briefly checked your phone to see what Ciri’s notes asked of you, before you began doing your best to follow directions. Your portion of the video wouldn’t be long, but you did re-film it 4 times to try and get your motions to be less stiff.

After forty-five minutes of waving your arms around, you walked back to your camera, picking it up before taking a seat on a nearby log. Reviewing the footage, you winced at how awkward it looked, you seriously hoped that Ciri could work some magic on this because you didn’t have it in you to film it again.

The forest around you was darkening as the day began to draw to a close, but you couldn’t bring yourself to head back right away. The forest was too peaceful and serene. Reaching up you pulled your wig off, stuffing it in your bag as you sighed with relief. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, focusing in on the sounds of nature around you. Maybe coming to the woods would become a weekly thing for you, like therapy.

A low deep growl broke you out of your trance, your eyes flying open and flickering around to find the source. Your heart hammered against your chest, and your whole body stiffened in fear. A few moments later a dark black wolf emerged from the trees, larger than any wolf you had seen on tv. You could vaguely see blood dripping from its muzzle, and its dark red eyes were focused right on you.

It paused at the edge of the clearing, its lips pulling back to reveal sharp blood-stained teeth. Your breath came quick as you leaned back, unsure if you should run or try and hide behind the log. Both seemed unhelpful in this current situation, but you were really low on options.

The wolf’s body tensed before springing toward you. Your hands instinctively grabbed whatever was nearest to you, which happened to be your very expensive camera, and threw it toward the wolf. This did nothing to deter the predator from its prey, and within seconds the beast was on you.

#seventeen werewolf #werewolf!seventeen #werewolf!mingyu #seventeen x reader #ultkpop #seventeen #svt #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #kim mingyu #Werewolf!AU #werewolf!svt #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #mingyu x reader #seventeen mingyu

[eideticmemory]

EMERGENCY II | SPENCER REID

Description: Part 2 of EMERGENCY! Read the first part here! Filling the request, “Spencer is in a relationship with the reader but is hiding it from the team and they all know he’s hiding something but don’t know what until he gets hurt / shot in the field and the hospital calls her in as his emergency contact :).”

Word Count: 1,658.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Graphic sexual intercourse, unprotected sex.

“[y/n], I can walk, babe. Really,” Spencer said. But you wouldn’t hear it. You positioned one hand on his waist, and the other on his shoulder, trailing him as he moved up the stairs. “I feel fine.”

You matched his strides as the two of you stepped towards the apartment door, “Fine, Spencer? You feel fine?”

“Okay, maybe that’s overselling it. I feel fine considering I just got shot in the neck.”

“What did I tell you about the ‘S’ word?” You gasped, your hands working to unlock the door.

“Same thing you told me about the ‘G’ word and the ‘B’ word.”

“Exactly,” you popped the door open, subsequently guiding him into the living space. “Those words do not enter this apartment. This is a healing space. Only positive thoughts and positive vibes.”

“You have been spending way too much time with Garcia,” he laughed. You shook your head at him, as you two walked into the bedroom where you helped him lay down.

“Penelope is amazing. She stayed with us the entire hospital stay, decorated your room, brought me food when I didn’t want to leave you. She’s a gem.”

“Yeah, she is,” he smiled. “I’m glad you got to meet the team.”

“Me too,” you tucked him into the cover of the duvet, sitting at his side. “JJ and Emily took me out for a coffee a few times to get me out of the hospital. And Derek was telling me all these stories about my beloved boyfriend.”

“Oh, no!” He groaned.

“Oh, yeah. All about my little boy wonder — when you first joined the unit, all the cases you’ve cracked, all the facts you’ve told him.”

“Mhm, I’m sure he only had lovely things to say.”

“He did! He came to visit you everyday, even if you weren’t awake. That’s a good group of people you work with, Spencer Reid.”

“Yeah, they’re awesome. And I promise you as soon as I’m all better, we’ll all go out for dinner. Where I will properly, formally, introduce you as my girlfriend.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Emily and I are going shoe shopping tomorrow. I’m well settled in.”

Spencer smiled. In his efforts to divide his work life from his personal life, he’d separated the most important people in his life. And he vowed, never again.

It took Spencer exactly 100 days to heal. 100 days of physical therapy, psychological therapy, and you, doing nothing to caring for him. He insisted you go to work, but with the extenuating circumstances, you were able to work from home - Spencer’s home. And you were able to watch him, cook for him, clean for him, encourage him every step of the way until he was ready to go back to work.

Work, you thought. Work. And you dreaded the thought of the career that’d nearly cost you your greatest love. But you bit your tongue, sucked it up, and watched Spencer leave for his first day back. He held you for ages beforehand, and you swore that when he was ready to let go, you’d let him go as-well. But neither of you moved for a long, long time. You two were embraced in the warmth of each other’s bodies, facing the idea of being separated for the first time in months, terrified, and very, very in love.

“I love you,” he whispered.

You placed your forehead to his shoulder, “What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

He chuckled softly, “I love you, [y/n].”

“I love you, Spencer.”

You watched him all the way to his car, waving until he was out of the parking lot. And you suddenly felt very empty. Very scared. It was clear you would not feel secure again, not until he was back. Back and in your arms.

You kicked your feet up on the couch, laptop perched on your legs as you began your work for the day. You tried with every ounce of effort to keep your attention focused, and your mind from wandering to Spencer. It didn’t really work. You watched your phone like a hawk, scared that it might ring at any moment. Scared of reliving one of the most traumatic moments of your life. But it never rang.

Instead, not even an hour after Spencer had left, he came barging through the front door and headed straight for the bedroom. You shot up, calling out to him, “Spencer? Baby?” But he didn’t stop. He entered the dark room and took a prompt seat on the bed, removing his shoes.

You followed him, face twisted in confusion and instant worry. “Spencer? What’s wrong, my love?”

He frowned, shook his head and anxiously ran his fingers through his hair. “They—they wouldn’t let me fly. They wouldn’t even let me stay at the bullpen. They sent me home.”

“They what?” You gasped, stepping over to him and placing your hands on his shoulders.

“They said I’m required to spend at least another week at home. Claimed my psychological evaluations didn’t give me enough clearance. How? How? I was ready to go back to work. I’m fine!”

“Oh, baby,” you whispered. “It’s okay.”

“No, no, it was humiliating.”

You sighed. As much as you dreaded the idea of Spencer being out in the field, you dreaded his sadness even more. “Okay, okay,” you said. “We’re not going to let this happen. We have done too much to make sure you’re happy and healthy and ready to go back to work and I just refuse to let them ignore that.”

“[y/n]—“

“No, Spence. I won’t let them do this to you. That team is your life, your family, you deserve to be back. Who do I have to call? Hotch? I only met him once, but I will call him. I will call him and verify that you’re healthy enough to work. And if he doesn’t accept my verification then I will include every doctor, psychiatrist, physical therapist that I can until he does accept it.”

“[y/n],” Spencer repeated, eyeing you closely, with a look on his face that even a trained profiler themselves couldn’t read.

“What?” You replied, tilting your head. “What’s wrong.”

He exhaled slowly, staring up at you, his eyes glazed over. “[y/n], will you marry me?”

The words hung in the air like smoke, filling your lungs and your ears so powerfully that your senses became overwhelmed. You froze in place, jaw dropped and your eyebrows furrowed together. “What?”

“Will you marry me?” He said. This time stronger, louder.

“Y—you’re asking me this now?” Your voice broke. “Spencer, what the hell?”

“Is that - is that a no?”

You darted your eyes around the room, attempting to blink away the tears in your eyes. “It’s, it’s a yes. Of course it’s a yes. Yes.”

He smiled up at you, “So, what do we do now?”

“How about,” you cleared your throat. “Something we haven’t done since you went into the hospital?”

“And what’s that, [y/n]?”

You stepped over to him and held eye contact with him, as you slowly stripped your shirt off of your chest, leaving you in a pair of pajama bottoms and no bra. You stepped out of the plush shorts, “I hear engaged people do this all the time.”

“Yes. Yes, they do,” he whispered, taken aback by the sight of you. He reached out and touched your waist, pulling you into his body gently. You straddled his lap, taking his face in your hands, and kissing him softly.

Spencer fell back against the bed, hands running down to your ass and back up to your spine. Everything was slow. The kisses, the touches, the removal of Spencer’s clothes. Gazes were intense and focused. You wound up with Spencer’s fingers inside you, his wrist perched between your legs as you sat on top of his legs.

You massaged your breast as you rode his fingers, your thighs working to bring you up and down in a gradual motion. You could barely keep your eyes open, so struck with passion and pleasure.

“You’re so beautiful,” Spencer whispered, his hand loosely holding onto your face. “I can’t believe I get to marry you.”

“Well, believe it, baby. Because I’m saying yes,” you moaned. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

“Come here,” he pleaded, drawing his fingers from your core and pulling you onto the mattress, laying you down on your back. He placed himself between your legs, continuing to stimulate your clit as he pressed his cock into you.

“Oh, shit,” you huffed. “I missed this. I missed you.”

“You did?” He whispered, his hips moving at a steady pace. “Tell me all about it.”

“Spence,” you whined. Your body had tensed up at the slightest of movements, racked with sensitivity and heat.

“Hm?” He hummed, kissing your neck as his fingers rubbed your clit in slow circles.

“One—one day,” you breathed. “When you were, were, were asleep. You were moaning my name. A—and all I could think about was this. And how much I wanted to touch you, make you feel good, f—feel you inside of me.”

“I dream about you all the time. You’re—you’re all I dream about actually,” he whispered, suddenly cut off by a moan. “You feel incredible.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You placed a gentle kiss on his lips, holding his face in your hands as he worked his magic on you. All while maintaining eye contact. The two of you were so connected, it was first time you’d nearly orgasmed at the same second. Spencer followed you in a fit of moans, thrusting into you sloppily and whimpering your name. “Oh, God, oh, baby,” he panted. “I love you so much.”

Coming down from your own high, you gave him a sweet smile and assured him you loved him more. He laid beside you and held you against his chest.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “I buy you a ring.”

“But for now,” you whispered. “We’re just going to lay here.”

“Yes, my love. We’re just going to lay here.”

A/N: PART 3? WEDDING FIC? WE SHALL SEE.

#mine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reidxreader #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid

[talesofphantombandits]

Zero to Six ~ Going Underground - Edited Version. Part 3.

Characters: Four X Zero (OC) Summary: Zero was the first person to be ‘saved’ by One, she was his first honorary Ghost. Her knowledge in tech meant she got the role of ‘Hacker’ she recruited new team members, looked for missions and locations and made sure every security measure was looked at. You know normal hacker spy stuff. But her tough up bringing meant that if needs be she could fight, she was maybe even better than some people on the team knew. But due to One’s protectiveness over her she had to stay hidden, she was more of an actual ghost than the rest of the team was. This didn’t mean she couldn’t have her fun though, over the months of being with the full team she had formed quite a passionate love/ hate relationship with the handsome Four. Who knows what sparks would fly if they were ever to meet. Warnings: Slight swearing, some suggestive flirting in later chapters.

Tagg list: (I know this is a edit of my original story but if anyone wants to be tagged let me know.) @raylan-c​

Zero to Six ~ Part 1. Edited Version. Materlist. ​

​​

It was exactly one month after Zero had last seen One in her flat, she had flown back home two days after the incident and hadn’t heard from him since. Apart from tickets emailed to her for Las Vegas and a hotel room that she assumed was where their next mission was going to be. 

She’d flown out to Vegas a few days back, part of her was glad that she hadn’t had to converse with him. She was still incredibly upset that just the thought of hearing his voice nearly put her into a fit of rage. She kept all contact to a minimum while throwing herself fully into her research, she’d only kept in regular contact with Three and Five, although Four would randomly drop in to annoy her. 

She’d woken up at about 10am, she hopped out of bed only for the purpose of making food. Once the pancakes had finished cooking she hopped back into the comfort of her bed and opened her laptop, she went back and forth eating and doing research. The next time she found herself looking at the clock it was 12:30pm, it took all of her will power to drag herself back out of bed to put her plate and utensils in the dishwasher and then into the bathroom for a shower. When she reemerged from the steaming room she was greeted by the ding that signalled she had a email. 

She opened it and the first thing that caught her attention was that it was from One. Sighing she knew that she couldn’t ignore it, for it might have been something really important. 

‘Meet me at the Golden Cafe down the street at 17:00 sharp, make sure to wear something that won’t draw attention to you. Wear a black cap.  P.s Remember don’t say anything the others about this. -One.’

‘Don’t wear anything that will draw attention to you.’ who the hell did One think she was? She really had to calm herself down before she went to meet him. If this meeting was going to go well, she would have to have a level head around him.

“Ah Zero, you’re online. To be fair I should have guessed as you’re always online.” She slightly jumped as Fours deep voice burst through the speakers. 

“Jesus Four.” She put a hand over her heart to calm herself down. 

He started to laugh. “Did I startle you darling?” She huffed and plopped down on the bed next to her laptop so she could connect the earpiece and speak to him properly. 

“No, I just wasn’t concentrating fully that’s all.” She glanced at the time again, It was still early she furrowed her brow confused. “What are you doing up so early anyway? I thought you always stayed up late doing dodgy stuff on the internet?” 

He just scoffed at her in disbelief. “Excuse me darling, but who do you take me for?” 

“She’s not wrong though is she? I think I’ve accidentally walked in on you enough times to say that, that is the truth.” Two chimed in, to which Four immediately started up his defence. 

Zero just laid back in her bed and basked in the happiness that was, to her a family argument. 

Four had the last word though. “Oh shut up Two! I bet you’ve seen worse, Wait a second How do you know what I’m doing on a night?” 

Zero all but gasped. “Is that a confession Four? And I might have to carry out routine security checks on the bases internet. Which means looking through some of your histories.” 

“Jesus woman.” 

She couldn’t help but giggle at how worried Four sounded, knowing that she could see everything he searched on the internet. “Look I’m just doing my job, I’m just keeping everyone safe.” 

“But you’re basically stalking me.” Four hissed. 

Zero clicked her tongue. “Did you not hear me sweetie? I HAVE to look into your history for security reasons. Don’t get all shy on me now Four, plus your history isn’t even the spiciest.” 

“So who’s the worst then?” 

She laughed, like she was going to tell him that. “That sir, I can’t disclose.” 

“You’re no fun Zero, I thought we told each other everything.” She could hear the pout in his voice and she wished she could see his adorable face. 

“Oh we tell each other everything do we?” She laughed. “Then how come I didn’t know you had a marking kink?” 

“LISTEN STOP STALKING ME! I SWEAR TO GOD ZERO! JUST YOU WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU I’L-” Just like that she cut off the coms laughing hysterically at Fours outburst. 

Looking to the clock she noticed that she just had enough time to change and dry her hair before she had to make her way to the cafe.

When she finally made it to the cafe she spotted One straight away, he was stood by the counter. When they made eye contact he ushered her to follow him to the furthest booth in the back of the shop. 

“Why did we meet here? Why didn’t you just come up to the hotel room?” She whispered as she sat down by the side of him.

“Because I’m here, and he doesn’t want me to know where he’s keeping you.” Zero’s head shot up to the second voice, she looked at one expecting him to instantly tell her who this other woman was.

But her brain finally caught up to her and it registered the accent. “Five?” She said in disbelief.

She quickly snapped back to One who seemed more interested in the phone in his hand then on the meeting. “I thought you said I couldn’t tell the others about this?”  

“He asked me to help you get ready for tonight.” Five had now moved around the back of One’s chair and took a seat. 

“Tonight?” Zero’s brows furred in confusion. “You mean the mission is tonight?” 

“Yes.” One said still more immersed in his phone, It was starting to piss her off. “Did I not mention that in the email this morning?” 

Zero gritted her teeth. “No, you made no mention that a big mission, not to mention my first ever mission would be tonight.” 

Finally he peered up from his phone to see Zero angrily staring him down. “Okay look.” Finally the phone landed on the table. “It’s simple really, You’re going to be working as a bartender. Which luckily for you, you already have experience in. Serve drinks to anyone that comes up to the bar, start conversations, ask questions but most importantly listen to the conversations around you. People get drunk at these things and spill shit that their not suppose to, and so the rest of the team aren’t suspicious your coms will be off when you start your shift.”

“What will you tell them? Isn’t it going to be more suspicious that I’m not at the end of coms?” She looked between One and Five. 

“It’s not really a tech based mission, I’ll just say I gave you the night off.” He shrugged. 

“What about the others? Where will they be?” By that she meant where would Four be, but she wasn’t going to outright say that, not in front of One at least.

“Two and Three have their own little mission in the hotel, Seven will be taking a backseat and Four and Five will be working the floor in the club you’ll be serving.” She looked to Five at the mention of Four, her eyes lit up. “AH! Don’t even think about it, off limits Zero.” 

She just scoffed at him, he acted like he was her real father sometimes. “As if I didn’t know that already, I’m not a child One. I can handle myself.” 

“Yeah well I’m trusting you, don’t fuck this up Zero. Five has everything prepared for you she’s going to leave first, you wait twenty minutes then follow her to the hotel. Room 374, she’ll get you ready for tonight.” 

One got up from his seat without a single sound, he nodded at both the women and then headed for the door.  It wasn’t until he was out of sight that Zero looked over at Five, they just smiled at each other. With all the information she had just consumed she hadn’t even stopped to think that she was actually in the presence of one of her family members, one that wasn’t One!

“This is crazy.” 

Five just smiled at her, a genuinely beautiful smile that Zero couldn’t help but return. “It’s so nice to finally put a face to the voice.” She looked down at her watch and sighed. “We shouldn’t do this here though, I’m going to leave now I’ll meet you at the hotel. Room 374 remember.” 

“Got it! I’ll meet you there.” She couldn’t stop smiling as Five got up and waved her goodbye. 

The twenty minutes she waited to follow Five were the longest twenty minutes she’d ever had to wait in her life, it seemed to drag on she was so nervous she had to physically hold her knee down to stop her leg from shaking. 

The walk to the hotel didn’t take too long and she reached the lobby in no time, she put on the dark cap paired with some black shades. Nothing too out of the ordinary but it kept her face hidden none the less.  Once she walked inside she was in awe, she’d never seen the inside of such an expensive and vast hotel. It was absolutely beautiful, she dreaded to think what a room would cost in this place. As she walked further in she lowered her glasses to get a better look at the foyer her eyes were glued to the ceiling so she didn’t know she was on a collision path with a tall beefy guy who was looking down at his phone until they hit one another and she nearly went flying. Luckily he had reacted in time and broke her fall, though her glasses weren’t so lucky. 

She got up and brushed herself off. “God I’m so sorry mami!” Her head shot up at the familiar voice. 

Staring back at her was Three, she quickly had to remind herself who she was and where she was. “No problem, I think we were both at fault, I was mesmerised by the ceiling and you by your phone.” The first accent that came to mind was an Irish one, so she went with it. 

He just nodded in agreement and gave her a lopsided smile. “Ah! here, you dropped these.” He bent down and handed her back her sunglasses. 

“Thanks, sorry again.” She smiled at him one last time then scurried off to the elevators. 

Once she was secured and alone in the metal box she let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, and sighed. This was going to be one hell of a long night.  Her thoughts were interrupted when the elevator dinged, she rushed down the hall and knocked hurriedly on the door labelled 374. She had no intentions of bumping into anyone else, not even a second later Five opened the door and Zero rushed inside.

“Woah, what happened? Are you okay?” Zero moved to the couch in the room and laid down, burrowing her face in her hands. 

“I just accidentally bumped into Three downstairs.” She sided eyed Five who looked at her in shock. “Don’t worry I don’t think he knew who I was, I put on an Irish accent. Don’t tell One though he’ll probably pull me from the mission if he finds out.” 

Before Five could even respond to her, Zero took notice of her laptop and ear piece on the table in front of her when it started to crackle. “Hey party people, are we all ready for tonight? It’s a shame I won’t get to hear your beautiful voice in my ear tonight Zero, can’t believe that One has actually given you the night off.” 

She reached out and took the earpiece. “Don’t be too sad Four, at least you’ll be able to actually concentrate on this mission.” She looked up at Five who was just giggling, It was so strange to actually be in the same room as her. Zero smiled, she could get use to this. 

“Who I’m I going to piss off tonight though?” She could practically hear the pout in his voice. 

“I’m sure you’ll find some beautiful girl to have on your arm and piss off the entire night.” She felt sad just thinking about it. “Well good luck team, do me proud! and don’t miss me too much.” She shut the communication line down before he could respond. 

She looked up to Five as she shut the laptop and took out her ear piece, placing it on top of the laptop. She wouldn’t be needing that now for the rest of the night.

“You okay?” Five gave her a sad smile.

Zero forced herself to look completely unphased. “I’m fine, let’s go get ready.” 

.....

Zero stood at the bar, Five had dressed her in black skinny jeans paired with some black Doc Marten boots, a black silk button up and a deep green velvet waistcoat. She wore a dark black wig that came down to her chest and flowed in light curls, her makeup was smoky to match the uniform. She looks professional. The venue was dark, with moody but classy lighting which meant she blended right in.  The bartender role came naturally to Zero, before she was a ghost she had worked in a small bar for about two years before everything had kicked off, the events of which led her here. 

She started the shift by just cleaning up glasses, serving mostly already drunk customers and listening to every word of every conversation. About five minutes early she had spotted Five enter the room with a rich looking man on her arm, she’d caught Zero’s eye from across the room and winked at her which put her at ease. 

Suddenly the air in the room shifted, she couldn’t explain it but her eyes were drawn to the entrance of the club. A man walked in, his blonde hair was slicked back on the top but the sides where shaven. A tight black tux hugged his body, Zero wished she could picture this moment for the rest of her life, butterflies started to stir in her stomach.

It was Four. 

#6 underground #6 underground fanfiction #6 underground four #6 underground fanfic #6 underground billy #four #four fanfiction #billy #billy fanfiction #billy x reader #billy x oc #billy x scout #four x reader #four x oc #four x zero #ben hardy #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy four

[dorminchu]

Insult to Injury: The Director's Cut — Chapter 01

Note: All right, it's been a hot minute since I uploaded anything substantial in regard to this fic. So I'm going to try something a bit risky! I've archived Insult to Injury as you all know it, with the exception of a few errant reblogs outside of my control. But that's neither here nor there; I am very excited to present to all of you all the definitive version of this fic — the Director's Cut, if you will. ;)

Fandom: James Bond Characters: Madeleine Swann, Lyutsifer Safin, various OC(s) Relationships: Madeleine & OC(s) Warnings: Strong language, intense scenes of violence, general cynicism. Rating: M Genre: Crime/Drama Summary: A troubled psychologist desperate to escape her past criminal ties finds herself drawn into a far more insidious schism. [Post-Skyfall]

[Ao3 | FFNet]

— ACT I —

“Everything which is done in the present, affects the future by consequence, and the past by redemption.” — Paulo Coelho

— Episode I: A THOUSAND DETAILS —

In the sterile comfort of her office, Dr Madeleine Swann stared blankly at her computer monitor. The notification that her application as a psychologist consultant with the Médecins Sans Frontières had been sent six days prior blurred with lack of focus. The location of the mission in question was Conakry, Guinea. Her contract duration would last from the start of May to the end of August; just shy of two months away from now. There was an additional caveat:

All non-ECOWAS foreigners are required to have a valid Guinean visa and a vaccination card in order to be granted entry. Yellow fever vaccination cards are verified upon entry into the country at Gbessia.

Approval for the visa necessitated a seventy-two-hour window of clearance. And it would be at least four weeks until she heard back from the Human Resources Office—up to six if she were unlucky. She sat erect and the movement alone was enough to incite a sharp stab of pain into the back of her head. Through the window the sun cast a reddish glare, obfuscating the monitor and warming the nape of her neck. She shoved her face into the heels of her palms while the pressure in her skull abated to a dull throbbing.

Usually she made a habit of drawing the blinds. There were already enough odd complaints about her office being too cold and sterile passed along by the secretary. It had been a stressful enough week that Madeleine saw no reason to keep the shutters closed, so her clients might have something else to focus on besides four polished wooden walls and the analog clock.

What came off to most outsiders as a cool and direct manner of conduct was simply pragmatism. She had a laptop computer used primarily for sending emails. She recorded the bulk of her notes on patients by-hand and revised by means of portable recorder. She kept no photographs in her home nor office. The casual anecdotes she provided to her colleagues were ostensibly as droll as her taste in décor; though her efforts to blend in had largely gone unappreciated.

There wasn’t anything else immediate to review for tonight. She wished a curt good-night to the secretary before donning her coat and exiting into the crisp evening air.

⁂

It was only a fifteen-minute walk from the clinic to the flat. Above her head the clouds hung grey and pregnant with snow. By the time she had ascended the staircase and opened the door to her apartment her fingers prickled. Numbness seeped into her skin. She’d never much cared for the colder seasons.

“You’re back early,” said Arnaud—a fellow Sociology major from her college days. After graduating from Oxford, Madeleine had taken his offer to return to Paris and transfer over to the 8tharrondissement with the understanding that they would be rooming together. Her colleagues back then often referred to them as friends-with-benefits as Madeleine had showed little interest in dating before. After three years of cohabitation, her co-workers at the office wondered how she and Arnaud remained so cordial while balancing their careers and relationship.

“Yes.” Madeleine hung up her coat, noting that he had not yet changed out of his own. “I submitted my request with the MSF a week ago. If I am accepted I’ll be working as a psychologist consultant. In that case, I’ll be out of the country until August at least.”

“Well, you’ve never landed a position that didn’t suit you.” Madeleine smiled politely. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, thanks.” She looked away from him towards the window. “You could open the blinds. It's very bright in here with the lights on.”

“There’s hardly much to look at when the sun is in your eyes. Isn’t that what you say?”

For the most part, Arnaud was easy to live with. Neither of them required financial support and he was of equitable social standing. Her relentless volunteer work did not always lend much time to get to know his inner mind. “It’s late. Are you going out again?”

“No, I got back first. And it’s fortunate. You looked awfully cold when you came in.”

“I can hardly control the weather. And you needn’t worry, I always carry a key on me.”

“Madeleine, we live together. It wouldn’t be right to avoid you. But you know, if I were going out to an unscrupulous club it would make for a pretty good story.”

“Hm.”

“And knowing you,” Arnaud continued, “you probably won’t be going out drinking. The sunrise disturbs you in the mornings, and you woke up before I did, at seven. I assume you’ve been busy all day. In just a few weeks you’ll be working that much harder. You ought to get some rest while you can.”

“So,” a little cooler, “you’ll be another mission?”

“Most likely.”

“All these countries must seem the same after a while.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t expect you to understand. When was the last time you volunteered out of the country? 2011?”

Arnaud laughed. “Jesus, this isn’t a competition.”

“But it’ll give you something to talk about to your friends while I am away.”

Arnaud said nothing. Madeleine frowned. She went into the other room and began to change. He could not approach her in the same casual manner as his peers, nor dissect her outright. His life was one of prestige as well as privilege, and Madeleine could not foster any underlying resentment towards him for acting in his nature. The silence held, strained. Then Arnaud said:

“It’s always been important to you. That’s what should matter.”

⁂

In two weeks’ time she got a response from the HRO; the initial interview was scheduled shortly thereafter. By the middle of April she was making preparations to depart. Thanks to Arnaud’s tactic of avoidance she had little reason to tell him the details. No one would know where she was headed unless they broke inside her laptop and hunted through her mail. The situation in Guinea had kicked into mainstream awareness back in February for a week or so before gradually sinking back into obscurity.

Reports from several news outlets cited the emergence of an outbreak primarily affecting South Africa. Originating inland, a mysterious illness that revealed itself first with fever and spells of vomiting, then gradually ate away at the flesh of those afflicted and bore their bones and muscle, vulnerable to further rot. More emboldened journalists had taken to calling it the Red Death on account of this. Neither a cure nor a place or origin had been discovered.

The situation had not improved in the last two months so much as stabilised. Madeleine had been assured several times over email and electronic conference that those working in the field had already taken precautions, and she’d be instructed further on what to do upon her arrival. She was issued a few pamphlets and strongly advised to vaccinate before boarding the flight. Which she had done, but it was very kind of them to remind her.

In spite of Arnaud’s apparent disinterest, his last words to her before she departed had been: “Last year it was four missions. I'd never seen you so tired. I wish I knew what you’re trying to prove.”

After managing to get some sleep on the plane she touched down Conakry International Airport around mid-morning and contacted the Project Coordinator; a shorter man in his mid-forties with a photogenic smile and toupee. He clasped her hand in both of his clammy ones and said: “Very glad you've made it, Doctor. We need you on-site in twenty minutes. Make sure you are ready.” Her luggage was dropped off on the second floor of the Grand Hotel de L’independence, where she and the other MSF members would be rooming. The staff were polite enough, though their attention was fixed on the Project Coordinator.

Her room was spare and a little dingy, and the only means of fresh air came from opening the window and polluting the room with outside noise, but it was at least reasonably clean. A fine sheen of sweat was building on her skin. No reason to delay the inevitable.

Upon reaching Donka Hospital she met up with the rest of the team, most notably the Medical Coordinator, and the Psychosocial Unit. It soon became apparent that there were still not enough medical doctors to handle the influx of infected. An isolation ward had been established before the MSF’s involvement, but they were reportedly at full capacity; the workers in there were clad in full-body personal protective equipment. Another section of the grounds had been set aside and fenced off; rows of tents all lined up, reminding Madeleine distantly of a prisoner’s accommodations. No matter where you went the stench of rot always seemed to hang pervasively in the air.

She was paired off with another psychologist by the name of John Herrmann; American, around her age. He was of a friendlier disposition than she was used to, introducing her semi-formally to the rest of the group before adding:

“So, one thing you should know now, we’ve been having problems with the electricity on site as well as the hotel. There’s no running water either.”

“This isn’t my first mission with MSF. And I lived out in the countryside when I was small. I know how to look after myself.”

Herrmann smiled. “That’s fair.” He scratched his neck. “The mosquitoes are worse. Bug nets won’t help worth a damn. Make sure you close your windows at night, I had to learn that the hard way.”

“I see.” The humidity combined with the smell off-road were already becoming intolerable. But she did not want to appear so snobbish or weak in front of someone she would be monitoring for the next three months. “I won’t go any easier on you just because you are unaccustomed to the environment.”

 “See ,that’s the kind of attitude we need around here!” He clapped a hand on her back; Madeleine regarded him levelly until he relented. “Good to have you on the team.”

The other members on the Psychosocial Unit were as amicable with Madeleine as the situation permitted. None of them got on her nerves as much as Herrmann. His enthusiasm was never to the point of seeming false or obsequious, but he remained just enough of a go-getter to piss her off. After a week of monitoring them she came away with the impression that Herrmann was genuine. He had been consistently genial with the clientele and hospital staff alike, no matter the severity of their condition. She saw no reason to socialise with him outright. The most he ever noted about her mood was: “You’re pretty reticent for a psychologist consultant.”

“I’m here to do my job. That’s all.”

Herrmann shrugged. “I can respect that. We all deal with the situation in our own ways.” He paused. “I can see why the Project Coordinator wanted you. You’re handling this situation a lot better than I would have.”

“Thank you.”

“The workload must be insane compared to what you’re normally used to. I know it took me time to adjust—" he stopped as Madeleine threw him a look of confusion “—what is it?”

“Back home, I am usually referred to as what one would call a workaholic. Or didn’t anyone tell you?”

“Oh, hey, I didn’t mean to imply—”

“No offence taken.”

The higher temperature was not so bad as the humidity that slapped her in the face whenever stepping outside—according to the forecasts, it was only going to get worse within the coming months. There was no manner of ventilation or air-conditioning in the hotel so often times she had to draw the curtains and keep her hair back. She resigned herself by reminding herself that it was better than sleeping in a tent.

There wasn’t much time to be hung-up on much else besides her assignment. The members of the Psychosocial Unit all looked good on paper, but they betrayed their inexperience through a shared level of idealism towards the mission that Madeleine deemed ill-fated. She did not blame them. Young, perhaps fresh out of school, looking to make a difference in the world without truly anticipating the gravity of the situation. Their time spent observing the crises of the rest of the world through the lens of journalism and outside empathy could not compare with the experience of actually sitting down and listening to the stuff their patients talked of with prosaic seriousness.

It often sounded outrageous when Madeleine played back the recordings, taking down notes in the quiet, stuffy hotel room. Mortality was an expected outcome, and the implication of negligence by their government a common topic of discussion among patients. Most conversations were conducted in French or else by way of an interpreter, though the antagonism in the voices of these patients needed no translation.

There was a growing disparity between the narrative put into circulation by the news and what was happening in the field. According to several members of the MSF and the staff at Donka, the media blew the problem out of proportion. The people whose condition had kicked off the “Red Death” story had been subjected to long-term exposure. Most of the patients that came through were not in that same condition, but it created an illusion of immediacy that incited concern in the public eye and a need for donations. Government officials wanted to cover up the severity of the situation as not to detract from any potential business opportunities; until the MSF got involved, they were only employing the most rudimentary of safety procedures.

This latter revelation had shaken up the Psychosocial Unit considerably; Dr Herrmann had lost his patience with the Medical Coordinator. To this end, he’d apologised profusely to Madeleine afterwards though she would hear none of it. Whatever he felt about the situation was not necessarily invalid, but out of consideration for their patients, he would not bring it up again.

Herrmann never held it against her. So Madeleine busied herself in her own work. Whatever quiet camaraderie forged between the other MSF members was not her business. When pressed for advice, she would talk calmly, carefully with the rest of the team about what would be optimal but never overreach. In the sweltering nights and throughout the early morning, Madeleine would pore over her notes, listening to the passing automobiles and indistinct conversation carried over by civilians.

⁂

June crawled by. Currently the MSF were in the process of dealing with a new influx of internally displaced persons (IDPs) from the surrounding prefectures and villages, all of whom had to be tested and separated from those not stricken with disease. Thanks to the cooperation with the local civilians and tireless efforts on part of the medical staff and Medical Unit, there had been a forty-five-percent decrease in fatalities compared to the start of the year.

The atmosphere within the hospital was not improving. The topic of insurgence was the new favourite with patients. Allegedly there had been several attacks on neighbouring villages; a consequence of the lack of tangible progress coupled with deep-seated mistrust of government officials. Now the Force Sécurité/Protection, or FSP, had been brought on in collaboration with an additional Protective Services Detail (PSD) by the name of Kerberos, to ensure the hospital and surrounding property remained untouched.

Their Project Coordinator called them all in for the sake of reviewing protocol in the event of an attack. Outright criticism of the government’s method in handling the situation was discouraged. Madeleine was savvy enough to keep herself abreast of any controversy. For the rest of the Psychosocial Unit, she presumed they were either too naïve or willing to look the other way.

The only exception to this was the Vaccines Medical Advisor, Francis Kessler; a stoic older man with thinning hair and glasses. He and Madeleine had cooperated a handful of times beforehand, at the discreet behest of the Medical Coordinator. Madeleine had found nothing wrong with his conduct. A diligent worker, he acknowledged her judgement fairly but did not overextend his gratitude. Outside of his work he was straight-laced and reserved and wouldn’t be seen socialising with any of the younger MSF who all talked about him as though he were some out-of-touch stick-in-the-mud. As the situation in the hospital became more dire he would stay behind on-site, late into the evening. Whenever they had a break, he would disappear on calls. Once he came back late by only a few minutes and apologised to Madeleine.

“I was supposed to be sent home last month, but with the situation being what it is, I decided to stay on until things are resolved.” He did not sit down, his attention turned towards the path back to the infected ward. “It’s madness. We’ve already waited until things are too severe to think of bringing in a proper security detail—who the hell does the Project Coordinator think we’re fooling?” Madeleine ignored him. “Dr Swann. The Medical Coordinator tells me you’ve been involved in volunteer work for a while.”

“Five years, as of March.”

“Perhaps they would be more willing to listen to someone with your expertise.”

“I’m flattered. But it’s fortunate that I was not selected for my personal opinion.”

Kessler chuckled. “You’ll go far.”

Madeleine had no interest in pursuing this topic any further. “Who were you speaking to?” He froze up, didn’t answer immediately. “My apologies. I shouldn’t have been so blunt. But you leave often enough on calls, and it appears to be taking a toll on you.”

Comprehension dawned on his face, his shoulders relaxed. “Just my wife. This past month has been no easier on her. But I find that it can help somewhat, just talking to someone outside of this element.” Madeleine nodded stoically. “I’ve never seen you contact anyone outside of your unit.” Madeleine did not anticipate the conversation to take such a turn, nor did she wish to divulge much about herself. But she could not deflect as she could in the clinic back home, and Kessler seemed forthright enough to warrant a harmless response.

“I’m living with a friend. We graduated from college together.”

“And you keep in touch while you are abroad?”

“He tends to lead his own life while I am away.”

“That’s a great deal to ask of someone.” Madeleine inclined her head in his direction. This was not a man that emoted often; now the thin mouth was set, and the eyes behind the glasses disillusioned. “Few women your age would devote themselves to a thankless vocation as this. Not everyone is going to want to stick around until you decide you want to settle down.”

Madeleine’s smile did not touch her eyes. She hadn’t even mentioned the nature of her relationship to Arnaud. “We have an understanding, that’s all. Besides, I don’t bother him about his social life.”

Kessler shook his head. In a few minutes they were back to work as usual. By the end of the day, Madeleine resolved to let him dig his own social grave without further interference.

By the time July rolled around Madeleine found her mind snagging easily on technicalities. She became less tolerant of the Psychological Unit’s personal hang-ups with the lack of resources and lack of any obvious moral closure. Smell of rot and disinfectant permeated into her clothing and hair until she had begun to associate the smell itself with a total lack of progress.

She left the window to her hotel room cracked most nights, afraid to open it completely. Alone with her own mind and the recorder. The conversations now circled back readily to death and terrorism. An overwhelming fear of retaliation from looming insurrection.

Madeleine stopped the recording. She checked the time and cursed under her breath. Just past one in the morning. In six hours she would return to Donka Hospital and repeat the process. A month and a half from now she would be on a flight back to Paris. Her mind wouldn't settle on either direction.

Outside her window she heard the distant voice of Francis Kessler. He was conversing in German, from a few storeys down, but as Madeleine came over to the window she understood him clearly:

“…I’ve been saying it for weeks, and they dismiss me every time. These wounds are the result of prolonged exposure from chemicals. We’ve seen evidence of IDPs coming through, exhibiting the same symptoms as the PMCs we treated back in February. How we can expect to make any progress if the Project Coordinator refuses to bring this up? We’re putting God-knows how many lives at risk waiting for a vaccine that we don’t know if we need—and even so, it won’t be ready for another week. There’s not enough time to justify keeping silent….”

Madeleine closed the window carefully. She’d never been one to intrude on family matters.

⁂

When Madeleine exited her room the next morning, she found the Project Coordinator waiting for her in the hallway, along with the head of security from Kerberos and a couple Donka Hospital staff Madeleine knew by sight but not intimately.

The vaccines had arrived earlier than anticipated, around three or four in the morning. Several members of the Medical Unit had stayed on-site in order to determine if all had been accounted for and subsequently realised it was rigged. Thanks to the intervention of Kerberos the losses were minimal. Several doctors had suffered chemical exposure and were currently isolated from the rest of the IDPs to receive immediate medical attention. Others, such as Drs Kessler and Herrmann, had been less fortunate.

Now there was additional pressure from the hospital doctors and Logistics Team to begin moving the high-risk patients to a safer area. The fear that this story would circulate and any chance of obtaining vaccines would be discouraged could not be ruled out. So they would not be reporting this as a chemical attack, but as a failed interception of an attack by local terrorists, stopped by the FSPs.

“Dr Swann.” The head of security, Lucifer Safin, gave Madeleine pause. His accent would presume a Czech or Russian background but his complexion and eye colour invited room for ambiguity. The MSF on staff commonly referred to him by surname; perhaps Lucifer was simply an alias. What set him apart was his face. Gruesomely scarred from his right temple to the base of his left jaw, though the structure of his eyes and nose remained intact. In spite of the weather, Madeleine had never seen him without gloves. “I understand that you were one of the last to speak with Dr Kessler?”

His manner wasn’t explicitly taciturn, more akin to the disconcerting silence one might experience while looking into a body of still-water—met only with your reflection.

“Yes,” said Madeleine, “but that was nearly five days ago.”

“You were instructed to monitor him during that period by the Medical Coordinator?”

 “That’s correct.”

Safin glanced at the Project Coordinator. “I’ll speak with her alone.”

“Of course.”

Safin nodded. They walked down the length of the hall back to her room. His gait was purposeful and direct. He had a rifle strapped to his side. Madeleine tried to avoid concentrating on it. Her attention went to the window. She'd forgotten to lock it.

“Dr Swann.” The early morning light put his disfigurement into a new, unsettling clarity. Too intricate to be leprosy or a typical burn wound, it was more as if his very face were made of porcelain and had suffered a nasty blow, then glued together again. “What was the extent of your relationship to Dr Kessler?”

“I did not work with him often. We talked once or twice but that was all. I have my own responsibilities with the Psychosocial Unit. From what I could tell, he never made an effort to befriend anyone.”

“But you were asked to monitor Dr Kessler.”

“I was requested to do so on behalf of the Medical Coordinator. There were concerns that Dr Kessler was somehow unqualified to continue his work. In observing him, I had no reason to suspect he was unfit for the position psychologically.” Safin said nothing. “The only issue I could see worth disqualifying him for, was that Kessler and the Project Coordinator had very differing views on protocol.”

“He spoke to you about his views?”

“He expressed to me once, in confidence, that he did not understand the Project Coordinator’s hesitance to bring in a security detail.” Safin’s attention on her became sharper. “He also told me he’d elected to continue volunteering here past his contract duration, just to ensure the operation was successful. That was my only conversation with him outside of a work-related context. You would be better off asking the other doctors about this.”

“We have video surveillance in place on the Grand Hotel de L’independence. At around one in the morning, Dr Kessler exited the building and contacted an unknown party by mobile phone. Then, a minute later, you were at your window.”

“Oh, yes. I have been forgetting to close it. With so many longer days, it can be difficult to remember these things.”

“Your room was the only one to show signs of activity at that hour.”

“I was reviewing my notes from that day’s session. I heard a voice from outside, though not clearly. It was distracting me from my work, so I got up and closed the window.”

“Do you commonly review your notes in the early hours of the morning with an unlocked window?”

“I just wanted some quiet. I leave the windows open because otherwise I seem to find myself trapped with the smell of rotting flesh as well as humidity.”

Safin’s expression became easier to read, but not in a positive sense. This was not a man you wanted to be on opposing sides with. Madeleine kept any apprehension away from her face and her voice tightly controlled.

“Look. Without information about Dr Kessler’s lifestyle outside of the MSF, I cannot give you an answer in good faith. I was assigned to survey him. He showed no signs of dereliction in his work, and to my knowledge kept his personal views separate from his work. Whatever he said to me during outside hours was assumed to be in confidence. Many people say things to one another in what they believe to be confidence that they would not admit to otherwise. If I had reason to suspect he was unfit to work, I would have contacted the Medical Advisor immediately.”

Safin held her gaze. She did not dare avert her face. Then he said: “Thank you for your cooperation. The Project Coordinator is waiting for you downstairs.”

The rest of the day she spent in a different wing of the hospital. The Psychosocial Unit was cut down from four members to three. Another inconsequential day of thankless work that never seemed quite good enough. That night Madeleine laid back on her bed and watched the shadows on the ceiling stretch over peeling paint until daybreak.

When she’d arrived at the airport she could stave off her doubts with shallow, private reassurances. As long as you are here, you are just Dr Swann the psychologist consultant. Your father is many miles away and he won’t contact you again. No one else will come looking for you in a place like this.

With a guy like Safin around she was undoubtedly safer than she would have been with the FSPs alone.

Safer, but no longer invisible.

⁂

July brought hotter weather and brittle peace—the vaccines had finally arrived. The wing of the hospital that had suffered the terrorist attack was still closed and they had lost several more staff members wounded in the initial attack. Madeleine and the remaining MSF were encouraged by the Project Coordinator to take earlier shifts. Progress remained steady but there was no clear resolution in sight. The stench of rot imprinted into Madeleine’s senses to the point where she no longer consciously registered her own nausea. Discontent among the staff continued to bubble under the surface on account of the closed wing and bad press.

It couldn't last forever.

A week away from August. Just another humid morning at six AM. Madeleine rose and prepared herself mentally for the day ahead. Stress kept her mind working late into the night, but her position with the Psychosocial Unit barred her from working overtime in the hospital. She was overwhelmed with keeping up the pace, not yet to the point of exhaustion.

There was an inordinate of activity on the road outside as she got dressed and left the room. She put it out of her mind.

Outside the hotel she met up with the Medical Coordinator and a few members of the Logistics Unit. They spent about ten minutes standing idle in the humid air, too weary to speak. The streets were usually empty this time of day.

An unremarkable black Jeep pulled up. The Medical Coordinator opened the door and was about to step into the car when it happened. The Medical Coordinator’s head burst over the interior of the vehicle and Madeleine. The body slumped like a doll to the dirt. Madeleine wanted to scream but could not. She turned and found herself facing down the barrel of a rifle.

Around a dozen men with guns, sans insignia, circled them. The man who had fired addressed her harshly in French: “Where are the rest of the MSF? Why are they not at the hospital?”

“I don’t understand.” Madeleine could see another group of men approaching from the rear. A massacre, onset.

“We’ve been waiting for months for a solution, and you have been injecting us with a useless vaccine.” He aimed right at her sternum. “Your doctors gave them all false hope for months. Now the MSF have abandoned you.”

“You have been protecting them!” the insurgent roared, levelling his weapon. “All this time! You knew why they were here, and you allowed them to experiment on our families like dogs!”

The man at his left turned and fired. The insurgent fell dead. “That’s enough.” One of the men from Kerberos in plainclothes. A dozen more in military gear materialised as if from nowhere. “There is no need for additional bloodshed,” said the plainclothes. “Release them now or you will be shot.”

All around her at once, gunfire. Madeleine didn't wait to see who had fired first. She prostrated herself, hands clasped over her neck, breath clogged in her throat.

All sound ceased. Her head continued to ring. Her eyes were open but she did not process the colour staining her skin, on her clothes, the smell of it. She hadn’t been shot. Her heart hammered against her ribcage.

Heavy footsteps approaching. She closed her eyes awaiting the kiss of metal at her temple.

“Dr Swann.” Madeleine shrunk away instinctively from the gloved hand upon her forearm. “It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Another soldier pulled her upright. Sight of blood on dry earth briefly mixed up with blood spattered across wooden floorboards. Madeleine went limp. Ushered into the backseat of an unmarked Jeep, she could not stop trembling. Shoulder-to-shoulder with another man she recognised as head of Logistics, Peter Miller. The door slammed shut, jolting her back into her own body. Sound of the ignition set her into trembling. Miller’s naked hand materialised on her shoulder. His voice overtaken by the roaring in her ears. Madeleine bowed her head into her hands like a child, whispering: “Ne me tuez pas. Je n’ai rien fait. Je ne sais rien.”

#no time to die #madeleine swann #lyutsifer safin #several ocs #crime drama #fanfic #fanfiction #multichapter #canon is gonna joss this into the sun probably #haha... unless? #slow build

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

A New Kind Of Misery (Part 2)

Summary: After a night out, the reader wakes up the next day to discover her soulmate mark is now on her body. Except she has no idea who they are…

Pairing: soulmate!Dean x Actress!reader

Part 1

Square: Slow Burn

Word Count: 5,900ish

Warnings: language, brief nudity

A/N: Written for @spndeanbingo​​

____

“Alright,” said Dean as you sipped on a beer on your couch, Dean pacing back and forth in the family room. You watched him go, smiling at him as you took him in. “I’m obviously not explaining this correctly or else you’d be freaking out.”

“Your mom was killed by a demon which led to your dad going on a vengeance trip in which you and your brother got dragged along. You were raised on the road and into this hunting life. Your dad died, the demon is dead but a whole lot of other stuff happened and you hunt monsters. I don’t think I left anything out,” you said. You held out the still full beer sat on the coffee table to him. “You got to try it. It’s from this brewery out near Napa and-”

“You are a little celebrity. I’ve been on the most wanted list. I’m legally dead and a criminal. You and me, we don’t mix.”

“Just because I act doesn’t give you a right to talk down to me,” you said. You got to your feet and he rolled his eyes. “I earned everything in this house. It wasn’t given to me. I did that.”

“My point being is that you live in an incredibly nice house and have money out your ass and your biggest worry is probably who sat next to who at some celebrity party or whatever. My problems? Life or death, every single day.”

“I thought I made it extremely clear,” you said, putting your drink down and getting in his face. You grabbed his arm and tugged down his jacket sleeve to reveal his matching mark. “We’re soulmates. I’m with you, you’re with me. There’s not getting out of it.”

“I’m not...listen,” he said, putting his hands on your shoulders and guiding you to sit down. He went with you, giving you a forced smile. “So we’re soulmates. It does not mean we have to be together. You can stay here with your life and I can go back to mine. This never has to be an issue.”

“You’re something else,” you said, shrugging him off. You stood and left the room, heading upstairs to your room. You sat down on the floor and leaned back against the bed, reaching underneath for a shoebox. You pulled it out and opened the lid, taking out the small drawing you’d done years ago. It was a ring of fire, something you’d done in school when you learned about your marks. It was supposed to be an exercise on reflection and what you thought you mark would be. You remembered being scolded for drawing it but holding it up to your wrist, it was a near perfect match.

“What’s that,” he asked. You hadn’t heard him come in and shoved the drawing back in the box. “I remember doing that in school too. I drew the flames in a circle back then.”

“Why don’t you want me?” you asked quietly. He sighed and sat down on the other side of the box, tucking his knees up.

“Not a matter of what I want, sweetheart. It’s what’s right and what’s wrong. Getting you killed doesn’t seem very right to me,” he said. He flipped off the lid of the box, staring inside. “That a picture of you and your family?”

“Yeah. My parents and older brother,” you said.

“You’re cute,” he said, skimming through a few pictures. “These are important to you.”

“Our house had a fire when I was little. I took my bear and box out with me,” you said.

“Maybe it’s why we got flames. We both had fires growing up.”

“I don’t care what you do or how dangerous it is. It sounds like you’re really important actually. But no matter what you do, the most wrong thing you can do in the world is reject your soulmate.”

“You will die in my world. Even if I wanted to teach you, something will hurt you, take you, torture you, kill you, all before I even have a chance. You will be in pain and horrified and I might not be able to stop it. It’s not an if, it’s a when. And I can’t do your world. I just can’t. You live in the spotlight. I hide in the shadows. Coming here once was a risk I could justify but anything more and something might follow me and come after you. This conversation is all it can ever be,” he said.

“Be selfish and tell me what you want.”

He turned towards you and reached his hand up to your face, pulling you into a deep kiss. His jaw was a gentle kind of scratchy, his lips so damn soft and you could feel your wrist warm at your mark. He broke off and looked down, a deeper black making it up now.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. “Fuck.”

“Cementing our bond? Tough shit. Now we need to-”

“You need to-” he said before you felt like you’d been hit in the gut. You gasped, a rush of who he was down in his soul hitting you. He grunted and grabbed your hand, riding through it himself. It felt wrong though, so much pain and trauma filling you up in your core. “Y/N. Y/N, breathe. It’ll be over in a second.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said, taking another gasping breath. “You’re not feeling this bad ever again.”

“Y/N, you don’t understand. It’s not-”

“We’ll make it work,” you said, his hands catching you as you started to fall. The dark pit in your stomach began to subside and you shut your eyes, putting your head between your knees. Dean picked you up and sat you on your bed, sitting close by as he ran a hand over your head. “What was that?”

“I may have left out the part where I was in Hell for 40 years,” he said. You jerked your head up and stared at him, water forming in your eyes. “Don’t cry about it.”

“I’m sorry I care about you. It’s not like we’re connected on every level or anything,” you said. You rested your head down again, Dean moving his arm over your shoulders.

“I spent 30 being tortured. Then I couldn’t take it anymore so I picked up a blade and tortured for a decade. I became the star pupil,” he said. You risked a glance over, Dean staring at the bedding.

“I don’t know how you lasted that long. I couldn’t...s’not your fault for doing that. You had to stop the pain,” you said. He pulled his arm away and rested his hands in his lap. “Dean. It’s alright.”

“That is the tip of the shitty iceberg. You have to stay away from me.”

“No,” you said with a smile. “I’m sorry but no.”

“Why?” he asked. “You don’t know me.”

“I don’t, but we kinda do. You would not have come here if you could really stay away. We’re connected. No matter our situations, it’ll work,” you said.

“God, you’re as stubborn as I am,” he said.

“Looks like it. Can we agree to try at the very least?” 

He was quiet, absently staring at his wrist. He ran his thumb over it and you caught sight of some light scars on his body. 

“Your life is scary but it doesn’t mean the scary stuff is going to make me run away. I’ll learn and so will you,” you said.

“I can’t date the lead actress in one of the biggest Netflix shows,” he said. “The second I’m in the public eye-”

“There are ways around the public eye, Dean. No one even knew I spent most of the past year dating someone,” you said.

“Really?”

“Really. I can sneak out of here very easily. We know we can’t walk away from each other.”

“I’m in charge though. I need to stay away, I stay away.”

“I’ll let you think you’re in charge if that makes you feel better,” you said with a smile. He grumbled and you moved over to his lap, his pretty green eyes watching you the whole time. “It’s not me, right?”

“What’s not you?” he asked softly.

“You being so hesitant. It’s because you want me to stay safe, right. It’s not because you don’t...you know...like me,” you said. Something in his face changed and there was a fluttering in your chest. He slid his hand up to the back of your neck and kissed you slowly, hot breath fanning over your face when he moved away an inch.

“Don’t ever say something like that again,” he murmured. “I need you and that’s scaring the shit out of me.”

“I completely understand,” you said. “My brother told me it feels like you’ve known them forever and you just met them all at once.”

“Pretty good way of putting it,” he said. “Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t stay,” he said. He was looking over to the doorframe and you saw another man there. You jumped off of Dean but he held up a hand. “It’s just my little brother. That’s Sam.”

“Hey,” said Sam with a quick wave. “De. The nest. We gotta go before it starts to get dark.”

“Nest?” you asked as Dean stood up.

“Yeah. Vamp nest. It’s what brought us to LA in the first place. It get dangerous if we wait until night. I’ll be back later, okay?” said Dean. You nodded and watched as he headed out of the room.

“Be careful,” you said, catching them in the hall. He smiled and you returned it. “Wait a second. Can I come?”

“No,” he said, the smile wiped clean off his face. 

“We said we’d try though.”

“Y/N. Stay. I’ll be back later,” he said. 

“Alright. You guys can stay here tonight if you want,” you said.

“I’ll be back,” said Dean. “Don’t worry, sweetheart.”

He took off down the stairs with his brother and you frowned, hearing the front door shut. You jogged down to your office and sat down behind your laptop. You grabbed a notebook from the drawer and a pen, turning over a new page before you were on the internet. For a beat you paused but then you were searching vampires and writing down anything and everything you could about them.

Four Hours Later

“Hey,” said Dean, knocking on your office door. You jumped, Dean smirking to himself. “You weren’t-”

“Oh my God,” you said as you stood up and saw him covered in blood. You were wide eyed but he laughed. “You need a hospital!”

“This is from the vamps. I have a few bruises I think but that’s all,” he said. You walked up to him and looked him over, Dean carefully keeping an eye on you. “Y/N? You gonna freak out on me?”

“No. You can clean up in my shower,” you said. “I can order takeout.”

“Alright,” he said, glancing over at your computer. He followed you upstairs and to your bedroom. You flipped on the light as you headed into the bathroom, Dean taking it all in. You found some big towels for him and set them down on the counter. He was staring in the mirror when he seen he’d been caught by you. “You have a gorgeous bathroom and I look like a brute.”

“It’s just a bathroom,” you said, showing him the shower. “Feel free to use my stuff to wash up. I’ll try to clean those clothes of yours up for you while you’re in here.”

“Bleach and elbow grease normally works,” he said as he started to take off his jacket. “You really don’t have to. This stuff is gross.”

“Blood in clothes doesn’t bother me,” you said. “I’ll uh, give you your privacy.”

“Doesn’t really matter,” said Dean. “It’s not like were not going to see each other naked at some point anyways.”

He undressed and left his wallet on the counter along with his phone and watch. He got down to a pair of black boxer briefs and you cocked your head.

“What?” he asked.

“You have a very cute butt,” you said. He smirked and shook his head. “What?”

“Should have seen your own ass in season 1,” he said.

“Take your shower, goofball,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Oh. How do you take your steak?”

“Medium? Why?” he asked.

“I’m getting us takeout, remember?” you said.

“We have very different definitions of takeout,” he said. “Don’t get me like some vegetable on the side please. Vegetables aren’t my thing.”

“French fries?”

“More than okay,” he said. You found your hooded robe from your closet and put it on the counter as well, hoping that it was oversized enough to at least get his top half covered up for dinner. You ducked outside and went to the laundry room to grab the empty basket, returning to the sound of the shower on and Dean’s bare backside greeting you. 

“Damn,” you said to yourself. He looked over his shoulder with a shy smile but he didn’t cover himself up. You felt heat in your cheeks and quickly gathered up his clothes and took them to the laundry. You called for some dinner before you set out trying to clean the clothes, quickly realizing this was going to be more difficult than you thought. You pursed your lips, quiet footsteps behind you.

“I can get that,” said Dean in a towel around his waist. His hair was damp and you spotted a few stray droplets he’d missed wiping off of his chest.

“It’s alright. Relax. You had a rough night,” you said. He smiled and stepped beside you, taking the bottle of stain remover from your hands. 

“You got some gloves?” he asked. You pointed up to the cabinet over the sink and he reached up to pull down two pairs of rubber ones. He slipped it on and bundled his clothes up in the sink before he grabbed a bucket on the floor and filled it up with some water and mixed in some bleach. He set the bucket in the sink and poured some on his clothes, humming as he started to roughly scrub the clothes between his gloves and you began to see red stain come out. When it looked good he would toss it in your washer and wash what he could down the sink. “Easy peasy.”

“Do you not have any other clothes?” you asked.

“I’m not much of a clothes guy,” he said. “I have my duffel in my car with some. I didn’t really think to grab it before Sammy went back to the motel.”

“A motel? He could have stayed here,” you said. He shrugged and took off his gloves.

“We’re simple,” he said. “Your uh, robe was a little short.”

“What size are you?” you asked, pulling out your phone.

“XL. Why?” you asked.

“One hour delivery,” you said. “I’ll get you some clothes. Dinner’s going to take a bit anyways. Do you like salmon?”

“To eat?”

“No, the color,” you said, showing him a hoodie on your phone. He raised an eyebrow and you glanced in the washer. “Black?”

“Black is good. Really, Y/N, you don’t have to.”

“I can’t hunt and I’m not great at washing up vampire blood apparently but I can do this for you,” you said. 

“Alright,” he said. You turned on the washer and you headed downstairs, getting Dean a blanket to wrap around himself while he took a seat on the couch. You gave him the remote and ordered a few things for him before going into your office and putting away your notebook. When you returned he was watching an old episode of Scooby doo and you smiled, taking a seat on the couch beside him. “Were you researching vampires while I was gone?”

“A bit,” you said.

“I have a journal I can send you. It’s got the actual information you need in there,” he said. “On anything and everything.”

“Cool,” you said. “I’m guessing the garlic thing isn’t real.”

“No, no. The sun irritates them but it’s not like they can’t go out in it. I had a buddy who was one, wore sunglasses and a coat out and he was pretty good,” said Dean. You went wide eyed and he smiled. “Not all monsters are bad just like not all people are good. It’s a gray world. I have a good friend that’s a werewolf.”

“Your life is so weird.”

“My best friend is an angel. My other friend is the Queen of Hell,” he said. “Oh and I help raise the son of Lucifer.”

“I can’t believe you’re not besties with God too,” you laughed. He rolled his eyes and sighed. 

“Chuck’s a dick but he’s dead at least,” said Dean.

“Did you just say God is dead?” 

“Like I said, it’s a gray world.”

“Right.”

You slumped back into the couch and shut your eyes. 

“When you said your life is dangerous…”

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s a lot of weird stuff.”

“How do you get through it? Who takes care of you?”

“Me and my brother just push through it. It’s what we’ve always done,” he said.

“It seems like an incredibly hard life.”

“It has it’s moments. Your life can’t be easy either.”

“I make a TV show,” you said. You crossed your arms and absently watched the cartoon. Dean moved beside you and you felt his arm slid around your waist. “I don’t even watch horror movies because I get scared. Your life is a horror movie.”

“Yet you’re still here,” he said. “Not only that, but you’re trying. Let me try and do the same.”

“I make a TV show,” you said again.

“You’re telling me there’s no pressure involved with that?”

“No. There’s an incredible amount of pressure. It’s not life and death though.”

“Yeah but you doing a really good job, that gives a ton of other people jobs. It puts food on their tables, pays for the roof over their head. You sacrifice your privacy, your time. Your job is harder than you make it seem.”

“If it wasn’t me in the job, it’d be some other actress,” you said.

“Trust me, people watch for you,” he said. 

“Do you...watch the show?”

“Yeah. We always binge the new season when it comes out. It’s good,” he said. 

“Thanks,” you said, something tickling at the back of your mind. You took out your phone and checked your messages, groaning when you saw the one’s from Patrick. “I completely forgot I’m supposed to go to a party tonight. It’s for Danny, my co-lead. He’s like my brother. I…”

“Go,” said Dean with a smile. “It’s okay.”

“You could come if you wanted? After dinner,” you said. Dean made a face and you smiled. “It’s private, I promise. Danny’s a quiet guy.”

“Okay,” said Dean.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m sure people are going to notice your mark appeared anyways. I don’t think introducing me to some trusted friends is a problem,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said, kissing his cheek. “I’ll let him know we’ll be a little late.”

“My black hoodie is dressy enough?” he asked.

“It’s a backyard party with beer and a bonfire. You’ll fit right in.”

“That steak was so good,” said Dean, rubbing his stomach as you got out of your car at Danny’s house.

“Good. You deserved it after going all Buffy today,” you said.

“Was that a tease, princess?” he smirked.

“I think it was, Buffy,” you laughed. You grabbed his hand, led him around to the back gate and walked around the house to the patio. There were less than ten people there and you knew all of them, Danny turning his head and catching you. “Hey birthday boy!”

“About time! Seriously though, you just met your soulmate today. You didn’t have to come, Y/N,” he said, giving you a hug. “I’m Danny.”

“Dean,” he said, shaking Danny’s hand. They shared a strange look with one another before they broke off. 

“Winchester?” asked Danny quietly. He nodded and Dean smiled. “Haven’t seen you in...fourteen years?”

“I’m 32 so that’s about right,” said Dean. “How’s the family?”

“Good. We laugh about it now,” said Danny. “Tell your dad thanks again when you get a chance.”

“He died a few years back.”

“That’s too bad,” he said before he looked at you. 

“Keep her safe,” said Danny.

“I plan on it,” said Dean. 

“Well there’s drinks in the fridge or you’re welcome to the liquor cabinet. Y/N can show you,” he said. 

“How do you-” you said as Danny shook his head.

“Some stuff, you just don’t talk about, Y/N,” he said. “We’ll keep him under wraps tonight.”

“Thanks, Danny,” you said. You guided Dean inside and set Danny’s present down on his kitchen table, heading over to the counter where he’d set out some alcohol. “So. How do you know him?”

“Ghoul case in his town when I was about eighteen. He was a few years younger if I remember. Him and his brother Joe got into a bit of a mess. We got them out of it,” he said.

“How many people have you saved?” you asked.

“What?”

“How many have you saved?” you asked as you started to make yourself a whiskey sour.

“I don’t really keep track of that sort of thing. I think more about the ones I couldn’t save to be honest.”

“I’m going to guess you’ve saved more than you lost,” you said. “Cut yourself a break.”

“Self-hate is kinda my thing,” he said with a chuckle.

“We’ll see about that,” you said, grabbing another glass. “You want one?”

“Sure,” he said. “You know, just cause we’re soulmates and we’re trying doesn’t mean you’re gonna fix me.”

“I’m not trying to fix you. I just...wish you saw what I did.”

“You barely know me.”

“True. But my soul knows your soul very well. Let’s call it a gut feeling,” you said. He hummed and you made another drink for him, Dean carrying it out to the backyard. You introduced him to a few more people and found a pair of seats by the fire. He relaxed more the longer you were there but you knew he was nervous. After a few hours you said your goodbyes and headed home with him, Dean easing up once you were back at the house.

“It’s getting kind of late,” he said. 

“Do you want to head to bed?” you asked.

“I think...I’m going to grab my stuff and head back to the motel. Sam and I have a long drive in the morning,” he said. You stared at him and he rubbed the back of his neck. “This’ll never work. I can’t...I can’t pretend. I could barely pretend in front of eight people tonight. We don’t live in a bubble. I’m sorry, Y/N. This isn’t going to work,” he said. 

“Then leave,” you said. You went upstairs to the laundry room and took his things out of the dryer, carrying them down and shoving them in his arms. “Never come back.”

“Y/N. If you weren’t-”

“But I am, Dean. I’m in the public eye and you hide from it. Fine. Go hunt and I’ll stay here and we’ll both be miserable. I was never asking you to give up what you do, you know. It scares me but I was willing to try. You lasted two hours at a party with my friends who think you fix cars for a living. It’s obvious you wanted a way out. You’ve wanted out since you came here. So just go and stay away.”

He looked down and went outside, waiting on your front steps for about twenty minutes before you heard a car pick him up. 

You wiped off your face and went up to bed, crawling under the covers and wishing you’d never met him in the first place.

Three Months Later

“Back off!” you shouted at the guy dragging you down a hall in a sketchy warehouse. You kicked your leg back and hit him hard but he didn’t budge an inch. He dragged you over to a chair and tied you to it before pulling out a sharp looking knife. “I have money. You can-”

“I’m a demon, sweetie. I need to talk to your boy toy,” he said.

“I haven’t spoken to him in months. I barely know the guy,” you said.

“Hm, not what your internet search history says. You suddenly into the supernatural now?”

“Why is a demon checking my browser history?” you asked.

“Honey, the second word got out that Dean Winchester’s soulmate was out there, every demon with a bone to pick with him went looking for you. I just so happened to get lucky and possess a guy in your manager’s office.”

“Lovely,” you mumbled, swallowing when he pointed the blade at you. “Maybe we can negotiate a deal before you use that.”

“My deal will be with Dean, not you. He’ll be dead and so will you so I wouldn’t-”

“Cory my dear,” said a female voice behind him in the darkness. He glanced over his shoulder and shot straight up.

“Rowena! How nice to-”

“Cory. What did I tell you about the Winchesters?” she asked.

“They’re hunters. There’s no such thing as off limits hunters,” he said.

“Go,” she said, snapping her fingers. You stared as she stepped into view and she gave you a smile. “Hi dearie. Don’t worry about him. He’s off in purgatory.”

“Dean said you guys were friends, right,” you said.

“Yes,” she said with a smile. “Would you like to go see him?”

“Not-” you said, suddenly in the middle of a large room. You spun around, books everywhere, tables here and there and Dean eating cold pizza out of the box at one of them. 

“Y/N?” he said, getting up and looking to Rowena. “What happened?”

“Troublesome demon took her. She’s fine and he’s dealt with. It was nice meeting you. I’d stick around but you two look like you need to have a conversation,” she said. She disappeared and you blinked, Dean walking over to you.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” you said, pulling your hand away when he reached for yours. “Just drive me home.”

“We’re in Kansas.”

“...Well, drive me to a rental car place and I’ll drive home myself,” you said. “How do I get out of here?”

You tried to go past but he caught your arms, sliding his hand down to your mark. You glared at him and he sighed, running his thumb over the skin there.

“This changes absolutely nothing you realize. Stay out of my life,” you said. You tugged on your arm and he let you go. “Where’s the exit?”

“Just...give me a second,” he said. He went over to a cabinet by the wall and opened a bottom drawer, pulling out a folder. He set it down on a table and opened it up, an ID and other documents in there. “I need to be anonymous. It has to be just us. No friends. No family. It’s too dangerous. But we can go places and be alone. You can come-”

“Anywhere I go there is a chance I am recognized and a chance someone takes a picture and it ends up on the internet. People are already dying to know who you are. This only works if you give up what you do or I give up what I do and that’s not fair to either one of us.”

“Then from now on in public, I’m Dean Campbell. It’s what I go by around here. I’m just a quiet Kansas boy who works on cars for a living who will try to stay out of the limelight and the other part of the time, I’ll go do my job,” he said.

“Just like that, you’ve changed your mind.”

“Not just like that. It takes time to forge a new identity. People will ask questions. Now they have answers,” he said. “This stuff is out there if anyone wants to go digging. It took time to get it in place.”

“How long?”

“About three months. We have to do it ourselves and to make it credible, it takes time.”

“So what was your next move?”

“Get out to LA. Stand at your door. Hope you could understand.”

“A demon kidnapped me today.”

“I don’t guarantee that doesn’t happen again,” he said. “All I can offer is my crappy soul.”

“It’s not crappy,” you said, taking a seat. “Dean, you walking away like that hurt. A lot. Even for good reasons, it hurt. I’m not ready to try and date you.”

“I get it,” he said. 

“Friends?”

“I’m okay with that,” he said. “I know I’m pushing but would you want to stay the night?”

“Sure. Just as friends though.”

“Just friends, I promise.”

Two Months Later

“Did you see that!” you said, Dean shaking his head as you jogged back over to Baby. “I shot a ghost!”

“That’s real good, sweetheart,” said Dean as he kept trying to light a match. You spotted the ghost behind him again and shot, Dean nearly jumping down into the grave. 

“Sorry!”

“It’s fine,” he said before he tossed the match in. He took a deep breath and walked back over to you, giving you a once over. “Not bad for a princess.”

“I’m supposed to be getting ready to go to a network party right now,” you said.

“Yeah but hunting’s more fun,” he said, wiping a bit of dirt off your cheek. “Get scared at all?”

“Oh definitely! But I think I got that adrenaline high thing right now,” you said, Dean chuckling as he took the shotgun from you.

“Just a smidge,” he said. “I got a surprise for you.”

“What?”

You blinked and found yourself back home in LA with Dean, Rowena giving you a wave before she disappeared from view.

“Want to go to your party?” he asked.

“Why are you here though?” you asked.

“Because after a hunt, you go out and celebrate.”

“What about Sam? And the car?”

“Baby’s fine with Sammy. Come on. I bet I look good in a tux,” he said.

“Dean,” you said, smiling at him. “Want to stay home instead?”

“Yes,” he said and you let out a big laugh. “The party is fine too. Just...home is better. Actually a diner would be amazing.”

“I know a place,” you said. “Let’s go take a ride.”

“You have the best pie,” said Dean to the waitress about an hour later. She laughed and you munched on a french fry, Dean already wolfing down his last bite.

“Can we get another piece of the cherry for him and I’ll take a slice of that chocolate looking one,” you said.

“No problem,” she said. After a moment she returned with the food, Dean diving into his pie again.

“I knew you liked pie. This must be really good,” you said.

“I place it at number four. Above Sally’s in Bismark but just below 511 outside Phoenix,” he said. “This is high quality pie we’ve got here.”

“Part of the after hunt tradition?” you asked.

“On the good hunts, yeah,” he said.

“What we did tonight, that was super easy, wasn’t it.”

“Yeah. But you start small. I wouldn’t mind keeping you away from the big hunts permanently,” he said. 

“Going soft on me there, Winchester?” you asked.

“Maybe,” he said. He leaned over the table and gave you a kiss. He smiled when he moved back to his seat and took a bite of his pie with a hum.

“You kissed me. In public.”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” he said, smirking to himself.

“I hadn’t realized we shifted into dating,” you said.

“Y/N. If you never wanted me to be anything more than a friend, I’d live with it. I deserve it for how I acted before. But-”

“No, you don’t,” you said, standing up and sliding into the booth beside him. “I want us to be together because we want to, not because you felt like you owed me.”

“What about the rules of being soulmates?” he asked. 

“Screw the rules,” you said. He smiled and slid his plate of pie in front of you. 

“Well I don’t share top ten pie with just anybody,” he said. “Maybe next week I can go to your premiere party.”

“You don’t have to,” you said.

“I know. I want to.”

“Okay,” you said. He took your hand under the table and returned to eating, absently brushing his thumb over your mark. “Dean?”

“Mhm?” he said.

“Don’t call your soul crappy again. It’s beat up but not crappy.”

“Maybe that’s why it’s you. I need someone to believe what I have a hard time doing myself.”

“We’ll get there,” you said, kissing his cheek. “Now how about that pie, Winchester.”

_________

#spndeanbingo #supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean #winchester #dean spn #au

[jisungffs]

coffee breath - felix.

words: 5.1k

reader: gender-neutral

genre: fluff

tags: best friend!felix x aromantic!reader, coffeeshop au, non idol! au, implied lgbtq!felix, minho is a minor character, minsung is mentioned. this whole thing is strictly platonic, none of this is meant to be romantic. just a cute fluffy fic honestly. the end has a little tension but not a lot.

warnings: THIS WHOLE THING IS PLATONIC, DON’T READ IF YOU WANT ROMANCE, swearing, multiple descriptions of food.

requested by @aritodla​, check her out, she’s an amazing artist and a really sweet person overall. 

Lee Felix was a sweet boy. He had kind eyes, freckled cheeks, and an air of infectious happiness around him. He always tipped generously, he never got angry at the staff, and he always cleaned up after himself. Lee Felix was a sweet boy. And it was a shame all you knew about him was his first name and his coffee order.

 Even though Felix only started visiting your coffee shop a few weeks ago, you could tell he was a genuinely nice person. Everything about him was lovable.

Like the way he always said thank you after you took his order. 

Or like the way he gripped his coffee cup with both his hands when the weather was cold.

Or the way he had a billion stickers on his laptop, adding a new one every week.

Or the way his eyebrows furrowed when he wrote something down..

Or the way he nodded along when he heard music he liked.

Lee Felix was a sweet boy. And even though you didn’t know much about him, you really wanted to. Because Lee Felix was sunshine. And you were in need of warmth. 

It was a sunny day — one where it was warm enough to find solace in cafes and under the awnings of fashion stores, but not warm enough to make you want to curse out everything around you. The perfect weather, really. It was on this day that Lee Felix decided to wear his Twice t-shirt. It was barely noticeable — just a little white logo on the breast. It looked like a regular black tee from a distance. But you noticed. Because not only did you want to get to know Felix, you were also a huge fan of Twice. 

Felix gave you his usual order of a cappuccino and a chocolate scone and went back to his seat.  Felix liked Twice! You wondered who his bias was. Or what his favourite song was. It was really cool that Felix liked Twice right? You finally had something in common. 

You drew a little Twice logo on the coffee foam. You didn’t even realize it. It was pretty usual for you to draw about what’s on your mind, and your cafe didn’t exactly have strict rules about foam art. 

Felix was once again on his laptop today. You could recognize the colourful sticker-covered laptop from a mile away. His brows furrowed as he typed away, only getting up to collect his order. He was back in his seat and was about to continue whatever he was doing when he noticed the logo on his coffee, drawn on foam. His eyes widened slightly, his mouth broke into a grin. You noticed him getting his phone out and taking a picture before you had to attend to other customers.

-

It was a windy night. Felix was already in the cafe by the time your shift started, and was peacefully nibbling on a muffin while doing something on his laptop. His eyes never left the laptop screen. He checked his phone from time to time, but never spent more than a few seconds on it. From the looks of it, he was unaware of everything outside his screen and his table. 

The closing shift never had a lot of customers. It was just Felix, you, and a couple of regulars in the little cafe. 

And the regulars had already left by the time you were done cleaning up. It was five minutes until closing time, and Felix was still there, probably not knowing he was the last one there. You knew you had to tell him he had to leave soon, but you didn’t know exactly what to say. You weren’t the best at the closing shift.

You approached his seat awkwardly. “Excuse me…? Sir…?”, you said tentatively before gently tapping on the table.

Felix jumped slightly at the interruption. He quickly looked around the cafe. “Oh”, he said smally, “Am I the last one here?”

“Yes, and the cafe’s closing soon”, you said with a patient customer service smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t even realise”, he laughed. “I was working on some music and I guess I got carried away”

“Well,”, you struggled to find something to say,” If you like to sing, we have live music on Fridays”

What was that??? Who says that??

“I’ll keep that in mind”, he laughed, shutting the tabs on his laptop. 

His phone screen played the Fancy MV, connected to headphones lying on the table. He was probably streaming it, and your mind raced at the conversation starter.

“You’re streaming Fancy!”,  you said without thinking. You immediately cursed yourself for not spending more time thinking about what to say. He barely knows you, for god’s sake.

Felix didn’t seem to mind. “You like Twice?” Felix said with raised eyebrows and a goofy grin.

“I do”, you replied, mirroring his grin, “Chaeyoung’s my bias.”

Felix's eyes widened. “Wait a second!”, he said,  “Were you the barista who drew the logo on my coffee yesterday?”

“That was me!”, you said laughing.

---

It was a sunny day - the kind where you technically could go out, but it was just a lot more comfortable staying inside. You started mixing Felix's drink as soon as he came to the counter. Felix looked pleasantly surprised. “Guess I don’t have to order anymore”

“I mean,” you said with your eyebrows raised, “You do have to try other drinks at some point, you know? You’ve ordered the a cappuccino and a chocolate scone everytime you came here, and they’re not even that good”

“Hey!” he cry-laughed. “Don’t you dare say that about my cappuccino.”

“By the way,” you added, “I think you’ll like the music today”

Felix raised his eyebrows. His lips quirked up when he realised a lo-fi playlist of Twice songs played through the speakers. 

-

It was an average day -- the awkward phase between afternoon and evening, the weather so ordinary there was nothing to comment about it. Felix shaked his head as he reached the counter and saw you start to make his drink. “Oh I’m not having that today”

You raised your eyebrows, “Oh?”

“Yeah”, Felix said, fixing his posture and smirking. “I’ll have a black coffee, please”, he said in an over dramatic voice.

“Brave today, are we?” 

“Yes, and”  he said like a child boasting about his most recent tag game, “I won’t add any sugar to it”

“Oh boy”, you sighed, shaking your head.

Five minutes later, Felix’s (black) coffee was ready. Five and a half minutes later, Felix’s black coffee was at his table. You watched as he took his first sip.  His entire face scrunched up at the bitter taste. He noticed you looking at him. He gave you a thumbs-up, still wearing the most pained expression known to man. Felix should not drink black coffee.

It was a windy day, the thick grey clouds above threatening to spill over during the night. Felix apparently wanted to prove a point, seeing as he once again ordered a black coffee (no sugar).

“But you hated it yesterday!”

“Clearly you didn’t see the thumbs up”

“Yeah, I was too busy looking at the agony on your face”

He pouted, “But I want a black coffee~”

You sighed. “This will be your villain origin story”.

Not surprisingly, Felix had the same expression of disgust as soon as the black coffee touched his lips. Still not surprisingly, he kept up the cool-edgy-guy-who-drinks-black-coffee schtick.

-

It was a cool yet humid day - the most polarising weather possible. It was a lonely afternoon with hardly any customers in the coffee shop. It was a weekday afternoon, after all. Felix came into the store wearing a black hoodie and a smug grin.

“Please don't tell me you want a black coffee”, you said even before he fully got to the counter. The boy clearly hated the bitterness, but wanted to prove a point anyway. 

“Hey, this was your idea!”, he laughed.

“We have more than cappuccinos and black coffee, buddy. We don’t have to go into the extremes right away”

“Well I’m hoping that if I keep drinking the black coffee, I’ll get used to the disgustingness.”

You shook your head and laughed. “Tell you what,” you clapped your hands together, an idea hitting you. “I’ll play around with some ingredients and make you something I think you’ll like.”

“Ohhhh”, Felix said. "That sounds fun"

"Yes and maybe it'll help me add drinks to the menu too", you grinned.

"I shall not show you mercy, O worthy opponent". Felix spoke with a British accent, bowing to add some flair. 

You played around with steamed milk, vanilla syrup, espresso, chocolate powder, and sugar. Plus whipped cream for good measure. A few minutes later, the drink was ready. Felix came up to the counter and looked at the drink in mock apprehension. 

"I call it the Felixir", you said, . "Get it? Like Elixir?"

Felix let out a laugh. 

“I know. It’s dumb. But!”, you said, "I played around with a bunch of stuff I know you like. It has chocolate, espresso, whipped cream and some other stuff. I have no idea how it tastes, but my barista senses told me this would be nice".

"I trust your barista senses". Felix took a sip of the Felixir.  Whipped cream made a button on his nose. Felix's lips curved into a smile. His half-moon smile shined through. "Your barista senses rock", he said, punching the air.

"Do you like it?"

"I LOVE it. I don't know how you got my favourite ingredients so spot on."

You laughed. "Barista instincts, my friend". 

Felix took another sip, holding the cup with both hands.

"Anyway," you continued, "this one's on the house. You deserve it for enduring the black coffee".

"This is so much better than black coffee", he babbled. "Black coffee has so much caffeine in it?? I was practically vibrating all of yesterday". 

"Black coffee is for people with a lot of shit to do and not enough energy to do them", you agreed. "This one has espresso too, and also a shit-ton of sugar, so you might still vibrate today, just letting you know."

"I'll take being a popular kid's iPhone if it means I can have whipped cream and caramel and the other stuff".

-

It was a sunny day. Ladies in sundresses waited for their dates outside the cafe. 

“Not a lot of people here, huh?” Felix commented.

“It’s a weekday afternoon, what do you expect? Only teenagers on their lunch breaks come here. And you, for some reason”

“How could I stay away from my favourite barista?”

You rolled your eyes. “Since you’re here anyway, let’s talk. I’m bored.” Was that too blunt?

“Cool, what do you wanna talk about?”

“The meaning of life, God, or Twice. You pick”

“Trick question, Twice is God and the meaning of life”

“You’re too smart”

Felix stroked his hair back, “I know”

You roll your eyes. “What are your favourite songs by them?”

“Literally their entire discography, but Fancy or TT if I had to choose”

“Fuck yeah. Those songs are queens”

Felix looks at you approvingly. “We should hang out sometime”

-

It was a clear day. Trees danced around in the wind. Another afternoon where there was hardly anyone in the little coffee shop. Felix ordered his Felixir once again with a cheery tone. You spent some time cleaning up the kitchen and rearranging the items on display. Felix was waiting near the counter once you got done, absent-mindedly checking his phone. He put down his phone and gave you a bright smile when he noticed you coming back.

You smiled back. “What’s the occasion, bub?”

“Nothing, I’m just a little bored and I wanted to hang out with you”

“Well, there aren’t a lot of customers so I guess that works out perfectly”

“How’s your day going so far?”

“It’s pretty boring, to be honest. Maybe I’ll watch a movie when I get home. My shift ends in like half an hour.”

“Whaaat? I was planning to watch a movie too! I live right upstairs, actually”

“Really? That explains why you’re always here”, you laughed.

Felix laughed back. “I have nothing to do today”. Felix gave you an expectant look.

Oh. 

“Me neither”, you said casually. “Do you think we should watch something together?”

“Yes!” He giggled. “I know I’m not the best with invites, but  I’m glad you picked that up”

“Honestly, I’m surprised I got that. I’m really awkward with invites too”

“More reasons to be friends, then”

“We live closer than I thought, by the way. I live across the street. It’s a five-minute walk.”

That afternoon was a pleasant one. Breeze played with the little children on the street. Felix and you were sprawled on the couch, mindlessly watching the trashy movie on TV. An orange cat ㅡ his roommate’s apparently ㅡ decided to laze around on Felix’s lap, his hand absentmindedly stroking its soft fur. 

“Why are early 2000s movies so much more dramatic than they need to be?” Felix commented.

“Right? I remember watching this as a kid and it wasn’t half as bad”, you replied

“So it’s true then. Adulthood only makes things go downhill”

“Hey now you’re the one being dramatic”

“Wrong, I’m always dramatic”

“Your apartment is pretty nice, by the way.”

“Thank you. You’re free to come over whenever”

“Won’t your roommate mind?”

“Not really. Minho’s out most of the time and he brings over his friends all the time too.”

You smiled. “Hey also,”, you said. “Since we live pretty close by, we can hang out at my place some time too!”

“That sounds great”, he smiled widely.

-

It was a cool day. Most of your patrons huddled themselves in hoodies and cardigans. Felix ordered his drink before giving you a curious look. “Did you come to the cafe yesterday?”

“No, I didn’t have a shift. why?” you asked, slightly thrown off.

“Oh that explains it”, he said, “I came in yesterday and you weren’t there. The other barista didn’t know how to make my drink. Or even what it was, actually. And," he paused, "I missed talking to you”

An embarrassing smile crept up your face. “That’s so sweet”, you said, barely audible.

Felix was about to walk back to his table when you said “Hey actually,”

Felix turned around. 

“I downloaded a really awful movie yesterday. Wanna make fun of it together at my place?” you said, just a little hint of nervousness in your voice. “My shift ends soon. But like, you don’t have to if you’re busy or something, we can always-”

“I’d love to,” he smiled. 

The evening was breezy as you and Felix laughed over the hilariously, excruciatingly bad movie.  Felix and you bonded very fast, apparently. Felix was resting his head on your shoulder. It felt so… natural. It was effortless. And comfortable. It was as though your bodies just did what felt familiar to them. You felt Felix’s body shake every time he laughed. You added sarcastic retorts every now and then, Felix joining too. The movie was terrible. But this moment with Felix was beautiful. 

-

It was a breezy summer day, about a month after Felix came over.

 Loving Felix was easy. It was second nature. Felix just clicked with you. The line between friends and best friends blurred quickly. And based on how much he spammed you with messages and how much he visited the cafe and how diligently he memorized your schedule and how many times you hung out,  he loved you too. 

Your phone buzzed.

felix:

are we doing anything today?

 maybe

im in the mood for hot dogs i think

oooooo should we go to the park then?

yes !!

after my shift sounds good?

yesss

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧

You used to find those emoticons cringey until Felix started using them. Now, it was just fucking adorable.

(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

The park was a few streets away. It was a big one. Preteens ran around and played frisbee with their friends or their dogs or their parents. But the two of you luckily found a park bench ever-so-slightly away from the noise and the chaos. 

As you sat there talking about nothing and everything, you quietly took in Felix's features. His skin was radiant in the setting sun. His freckles, darker from the sunlight, looked like little flecks of chocolate. His eyes lit up whenever he talked about music. Or cooking. Or you. His cheeks rose and fell with his words, his eyes crinkling up when he smiled. 

It was a beautiful moment. You lay your head on Felix's shoulder, half lost in thought. The sun painted the park in a subtle shade or orange. The kids around the park laughed and jumped, being loud and being kids. Felix had stopped talking by then, too busy taking in the sunset. His head rested on yours, your hands almost touching. It was a beautiful moment. But moments with Felix were always beautiful.

-

It was a cold night. You snuggled into your blankets, intently watching something on your phone. 

Your phone buzzed. Felix sent you a meme.

you:

???????? why are you awake

it's 2am

go to sleep

why are YOU awake ????????

im watching something 👉👈

im just reading fics and stuff akdkkdj

what kind of fics 👀

they're fluffy stop making everything dirty

i can't stop me (by twice)

sjskksksjjd

oh also

do you make the brownies and stuff?

or is that someone else

in the cafe i mean

that's me babeyyyy

why tho

i like them :D

:"D

baking w you would be fun 🥺

🥺🥺🥺

im good at baking

and so are you

but maybe we should yeet away the recipes and do whatever

baking is supposed to be precise tho :(

if it fails we eat the cookie dough and erase the whole thing from our memory

nice

i mean

im supposed to be precise with the cafe stuff too but the Felixir wouldn't exist if i followed the rules

now you're getting it

when are we doing this?

buddy

we live five minutes from each other

just come over whenever

fuck planning

im *this* close to straight up giving you my keys

me too tf

hell yeah

also this isn't distracting me from the fact that you need to sleep soon

i feel kinda sleepy actually ngl

sleep.

okay 👉👈

gn !! ily

and please sleep soon aksndn

ily2

 okay :]

-

It was a clear, pleasant afternoon, your curtains swaying in the breeze. The smell of freshly made cookies wafted through your apartment. Felix sat on top of your counter, his legs swinging. Felix took one of the newly-made cookies into his hand and regarded it intently. “Looks pretty good so far. It’s a little bit hard but that’s obvious, we added a lot of ingredients and didn’t adjust the flour properly”

“So much for experimentation”

“We did add a lot of fun stuff though, so my money’s on it tasting good”.

You both bit into a cookie. It was… alright. It wasn’t bad, but you expected it to taste a lot better or a lot worse. You both gave each other disappointed smiles. “Underwhelming.”

“But hey! It wasn’t bad!” Felix added.

“True. Still thought the cookies would be more… more. You know?”

“I know. But who cares about that?” Felix put his arm on your shoulder, “Making this with you was the most fun I had in a while and I couldn't care less what they ended up tasting like.”

You let out a small smile. “I love you”

“And I love you”

You looked up at him. His soft brown eyes were warm with affection.

“Now,” Felix continued, “The cookie dough’s gotta be better right?”

You laughed. “The cookie dough is chocolate sludge at this point”

“Yeah, maybe using M&Ms as chocolate chips was a bit much”

“Probably. But let’s race. Whoever finds the most M&Ms in the dough wins.”

“I already know I’m winning”.

-

It was a drizzly night. Streetlights reflected on the wet asphalt outside Felix’s apartment. Felix and you had decided to have an impromptu sleepover. It was almost 3am, both of you slightly delirious from the caffeine and the staying up. You were yelling at the TV, desperately trying to get your character to do something, damn it. Felix just smirked beside you, his character easily attacking yours. He was choosing not to kill you quickly, which was almost more annoying than dying straight away. It wasn’t long before Felix won the game. You pouted in annoyance.

“Maybe I should start killing you quickly so you won’t be loud and Minho won’t yell at us for making noise”

“This game sucks”, you pouted.

“You’re just new to it. Did you know you can do twice as much damage if you press B after you attack?”

“Really?”

“Yeah! And do you know how to dodge?”

“No” you said like a kid admitting to breaking something.

“Why did you make me skip the tutorial?”, Felix laughed.

“The past is in the past, Felix. How do I dodge?”

Felix spent a few minutes teaching you which buttons do what and which attacks are effective when. It only took a few slightly frustrating runs before you almost came close to beating him. Maybe he was going easy on you, but that didn’t matter. It was fun. 

“You are learning, my protégé”, he said approvingly.

-

It was a chilly evening. Old white sheets lay spread out on your bedroom floor, your furniture haphazardly moved to the living room.  Felix had texted you earlier that day, promising to help you paint your room. You were almost done painting half a wall when you heard his familiar deep voice. “Hey! Missed you.”

“Missed you more”, you smiled.

“What do you need me to do? How may I be of assistance?” he curtsied.

You rolled your eyes. “Just grab a paint brush and do that wall over there. Just make sure it's even and don’t get any on your clothes.”

“You say that with a million paint splatters on you”, he laughed. 

Felix got to work. Neither of you really talked. It seemed that Felix was lost in thought, letting his hands do the painting. But it was fine. Because moments with Felix were always beautiful, even the silences. 

You were finished with your first wall when you decided to play calm music on your phone. Soothing guitar chords filled the silence. 

It was hard to keep track of time. Five songs? Six songs? Maybe an hour? Both of you had made a lot of progress with the walls. It didn’t matter.  What did matter was Felix. Halfway through the third or fourth song, you noticed Felix singing to himself.

 It was barely audible, he probably wasn’t even aware of it. But his voice was soothing. And soft. 

You had never heard him sing before. You wished you did. You could listen to it forever. Felix’s singing voice felt like sweaters and cozy winter days. 

You didn’t say anything. You knew he’d be embarrassed if he knew you noticed. But the rest of the painting session gave you butterflies, to say the least.

-

It was a chilly day. Felix was hunched over his stovetop making ramen while you dramatically read out a fanfic to him from the table. You just finished the kissing scene when Felix let out a disappointed sigh.

“I know right?” You commented.

“I don’t get it. Don’t you think they’d make way more sense as just friends?”

“Waaaay more sense. I feel like the kiss scene is just so unnecessary.”

“I don’t get why writers think everything should have romance in it. I mean, love is friendship right? I mean, for me, it is.”

Your heart stopped. A smile crept up your face. You continued reading out the fanfic, but you didn’t focus on it at all. Because Felix said love is friendship. Love is friendship. Love is friendship!

-

It was a cold night. You were all bundled up in bed with a hoodie and a blanket. Felix was on the phone with you, refusing to hang up despite being half-asleep.

“Seriously Felix, you can’t even keep your eyes open”

“Mm. But I want to talk to you”, he yawned. His half-asleep voice was deeper than usual and very quiet.

“Alright bub. What do you want to talk about?” You started to feel sleepy too. 

“I don’t know. Maybe how amazing you are?”

You laughed. “Fuck off”

“No but… your hair is so soft. And your coffee is really good. And you’re awesome. What the heck. I love you.” he said. He spoke slowly. You could tell he was almost asleep. 

“I love you too you beautiful bastard”

You were met with the sounds of soft breathing.

Felix was very endearing when he was half-asleep. 

-

It was a rainy day, rain knocking against Felix’s living room windows. Felix shared a blanket with you atop the couch. You leaned on Felix, your head on his chest. His heartbeat  synced with the rain on the window. Felix’s arm draped your side. Both of you focused on the movie in front of you. It was a good one so far. The plot was well written, and the actors were doing a good job. 

A door creaked open behind you. Felix and you turned to look at the source.

Felix's roommate, Minho  entered the living room. He looked well dressed in a leather jacket and chunky black boots. "Do you think Jisung will like the jacket?", he asked Felix.

"He's gonna love it", Felix replied, smirking.

“Alright, I gotta go”, Minho said, picking up his umbrella and walking to the door. He looked at you. “Sorry we couldn’t talk today, y/n, but have fun with your boyfriend”.

He was already out the door before either of you could protest. Felix looked at you awkwardly before turning back to the TV. Felix was not your boyfriend. And clearly he wasn’t very comfortable being called that. To be fair, neither were you.

 “I’m sorry about him”, he sighed. Both of you looked everywhere but each other.

“Don’t be," you said, “ I know people think we’re dating because we’re comfortable with each other and stuff.”

“Right. But hey, you’re my best friend and you always will be.”

You smiled. “You too”.

It was nice being best friends with Felix. Everytime you’ve been this close with someone, they all seemed to expect more. They all seemed to expect romance. But that just didn’t work for you. Romance was weird.

You’re my best friend and you always will be. 

Felix wouldn’t mind, would he? Probably not. But what if he’s mad you didn’t tell him yet? What if he thinks you don’t trust him? Or maybe his whole view on you will change and maybe he won’t like you after that. What if that happens?

You’re my best friend and you always will be. 

You’re his best friend and you always will be. It’ll be alright. It’ll be harder the longer you wait right? 

What if he really will be mad at you though? He’s your best friend, why haven’t you told him yet?

A mere few seconds passed before you shifted off his chest. Felix sat up, sensing your tension. He paused the movie. "Y/N?"

Fuck it. It’s too late to ignore this now. You looked into his eyes before turning away.  “I’ve been holding off on telling you something.”

Felix’s voice filled with concern. “Tell me.”

You took a breath, trying to keep yourself from panicking. You were too nervous to look at him. “Minho joked about us being together and I know neither of us see each other in a romantic way, but I just… I don’t know why I haven’t told you this yet. But… it’s not just you. I don’t feel romantic attraction to anyone. I’m aromantic.” 

Felix put his hand on your shoulder and moved closer to you. Your thoughts were still racing, your heart rate still high, your breath still shaky. You were still too nervous to look at him.

You kept going, “I haven’t told you this. I know. And I’m sorry. But you’re still my best friend and I hope you don’t think I don’t trust you or something. I love you, okay? I just… I guess I just don’t like coming out. But I just had to today for some reason. I’m sorry if this makes you view me differently.” You thoughts were still racing after you said what you wanted to say. Your hands shook slightly.

And Felix noticed all of that.

He put his hand on top of yours. “Y/N”, he said gently.

You hesitated, then looked at him. His eyes were warm. His smile was understanding - the smile of someone who’s done this before. The smile of someone who’s already dealt with the emotions you were having. He gently pushed your head back onto his chest. “Breathe with me.”

His chest raised as he took a breath. You closed your eyes and took a breath too. He let it out in a few seconds. So did you. He took in another breath. 

Felix spoke softly. “Coming out is hard. Even if it’s to someone you love. What you just did there takes so much courage. And I’m so, so proud of you. I love you so much. And our love doesn’t have to be romantic for it to be deep. I love you. And nothing will change that.”

You buried yourself in his chest.

 His chest rose and fell with every breath he took. You breathed with him. His heartbeat was calming. 

 I love you. And nothing will change that.

“Thank you.” you said. “For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Felix?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it weird?”, you said quietly, “That we’re always so close together? I really like being with you. And hugging you. And cuddling you. But I won’t do it if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No. It’s not weird. Not to me. I love this. And we can do this all day long without it meaning anything more than friendship.” Felix gave you a forehead kiss. “Besides,” he said, “What good are best friends if they don’t give you hugs?”

You hugged him tighter. “I love you so much”

“I love you so much too.” His voice was warm and kind and understanding. You didn’t bother holding back the tears. 

Lee Felix was a sweet boy. And Lee Felix was the sun, giving you warmth and love and reasons to wake up. Lee Felix was a sweet boy. And the universe was a thing of beauty to let your love shine through.

a/n: this took a really long time to write bc of personal stuff im sorry, but this req made me realize i was aromantic skaskdlkdlk :’D. remember my requests are open so feel free to request stuff from me and i’ll try not to take eight years to do it. take care yall

#felix #felix x reader #felix x male #felix x gender neutral reader #skz x reader #skz x male #skz fics #best friend!felix #best friend fic #felix fluff #aromantic #coming out #coffeeshop au #skz #stray kids #skz fluff

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Whumptober, Day 6: “Stop, Please!”

CW: Intimate whumper, creepy whumper, abusive relationship (of a sort), slavery, degrading language, hand whump, blood, threats of death, shock collar

Jax Gallagher belongs to @comfy-whumpee and is used with permission

“We could move here.” Savvie points, and the end of her fingernail - perfectly manicured into a rounded tip, polished to high shine - taps against her laptop’s screen. “See, Jax? This is gorgeous scenery, isn’t it? Just for the summers, of course. I’d buy us an apartment to stay in in the winter.”

She shifts, her shoulder resting lightly against his where they sit on her bed, whiling away the afternoon. These are her favorite days, the ones where she finishes her practice time early and they have a couple of hours to spend just being together, here in her room, with the view of the woods that ring her home a beautiful backdrop out the window.

His eyes flicker over the image of what seems like a quaint little cottage situated just a few feet from a river, surrounded by beautifully green trees on every side. “Where… where is it, Miss Savvie?”

His voice is a little hoarse, but that’s his own fault. He’d had some sort of issue the night before, but she’d handled that, and only the occasional involuntary shudder of his muscles gives away that he’s still feeling the effects of the shocks. 

She’d discovered, a few weeks ago, that she could set the remote on a timer, and she’d kept that knowledge a secret, waiting until he did something worth disciplining him for. Last night, after his attitude problem, she’d sent him to his room to sleep, set his shock collar to go off for just a couple of seconds at high intensity every hour and fifteen minutes all night long, and gone to bed herself.

He must have screamed - he had nearly no voice left by morning, and every sip of his coffee clearly hurt him, even as she insisted he finish every single drop. His room is so well-soundproofed that Savvie never heard a thing. Besides, it doesn’t matter.

What matters isn’t whether or not he’s got a teensy sore throat - what matters is that today he’s much better behaved, and Savvie doesn’t mind those circles under his eyes since she knows she was the one to cause them. 

“Russia.” She breathes the word like it’s made of magic, reaching over to take his hand. He doesn’t pull away, but his fingers twitch against hers. If she were any less herself, she might realize it’s because he wants to pull away, but is stopping himself. “This is in the country. I’d get us an apartment in Moscow, too.”

His hands have always been rough and calloused, skin worn red and raw by cleaning chemicals. When he’s good, he gets to wear gloves when he cleans. When he’s not, well, somehow those gloves go missing, and the work still has to be done.

She’s kinder to his hands, these days, though. Not that she minds them feeling a little rough. 

She lifts his right hand up, and he stares steadily at the little house on the screen while she presses a kiss over the platinum band he wears on his ring finger. Ready to move to the left, once she’s certain. Once they’re safe.

Once she takes him so far away his fucking father can’t ever, ever find him and steal him away from her again. Once no one can brainwash him and make him think he doesn’t love her, doesn’t want to be with her forever, for life. She’ll never have to watch him say hateful, hurtful things on the stand. 

Never, ever again. She just has to keep him hidden so far away that no one can find him, until they think he’s dead, until no one is looking, until they know he’ll never come home because his home is by her side, for the rest of her life, where he belongs.

Whether he wants to be there or not.

His eyes scan the real estate listing, empty of emotion. It’s all written in Cyrillic, it might as well be hieroglyphs to him. But the photos tell him enough. It’s a little vacation home for a millionaire, tucked away in the woods. Subtly luxurious, on the inside, with old-fashioned wood-beam detailing but pre-furnished with the biggest, fluffiest-looking bed. Maybe even bigger than her bed here. 

It looks like it had to be built inside the room, just to fit.

“Why-...” His voice catches, and he winces. When she leans over to nestle her head into the crook of his shoulder, she feels him go tense and then carefully, slowly, methodically relax. “Why Russia? France is… probably warmer.”

“You don’t speak Russian,” Savvie says, dreamily, trailing her fingertips along the back of his hand, tracing the blue of the veins she can see beneath his skin. His fingers twitch again, but she ignores that. She’s going to be the only person who sees him cry, sees his faint, soft little smile. The only person who sees him bleed.

“I don’t speak any other languages, Miss Savvie,” he replies, and she wonders if he’s lying to her, then decides he wouldn’t dare. 

“The cottage in the summer,” She murmurs, “and an apartment for the winter. My parents had some friends who own a building in Moscow, full of families just like mine.”

He swallows, hard, staring at the screen like he could light it on fire with his mind, if only he could try hard enough. “Like… yours, Miss Savvie?”

He doesn’t talk much, any longer. Did he used to speak more, the first time? She feels like he spoke more, before. Ever since she made it clear that she wouldn’t settle for less than all of him, he’d gone more quiet, more reserved. Even this was more talking than he did, mostly, now.

Not that she minds. He’s as gorgeous quiet as he ever is when she can drag enough words out of him to call it a conversation. 

“Like mine. Which means they have people just like you.”

He nods slowly, his face a perfect mask of emptiness. His body shakes, suddenly - and then he’s still again.

“Aftershocks?” She slides an arm around his waist, pulling him close.

“Yes, Miss Savvie.” 

“Hm. You deserved it, you know.”

There’s a pause - minute, barely a fraction of a second. “Yes, Miss Savvie.”

“I liked Russia,” She muses, reaching out to click through the photos of the little summer home. One single big bed, for the two of them, just how it should be. The perfect place for them to start all over, somewhere new. “They’re good to classical musicians.”

“What about your ankle… tag?” He glances over at her, and Savvie frowns, shifting uncomfortably so her skirt will cover up the ugly black band she wears around her left ankle, with a box attached that has a small red light on the top. She’s worn it for long enough she barely feels it, unless he draws attention to it, or she thinks about all the places she cannot go, because of him.

Because of his hateful fucking lies he told on the stand, with his father sitting there glaring at her when she tried to tell Jax it wasn’t his fault for being stolen - they called it rescued - and she would make sure he didn’t have to be alone for long.

She didn’t want to be alone, either.

“One day, I’ll get it off,” She says, closing her eyes briefly. “When it’s time to go, Isaac will tell me, and we’ll take off the stupid thing and you and I will be gone before anyone comes here to see what happened. One day, no more ankle bracelet and no more parole. I’ll board Isaac’s plane and you’ll go with me, and we’ll be together forever, in Russia.”

“Miss Savvie-”

Her hand suddenly gripped back onto his, tightening, as she felt the fear of losing him twist up around her heart again. “They’ll never find you,” She says, but it’s vicious, words spat out with furious, all-consuming conviction. “Never, Jax. Not your father, not the fucking police, not detectives not any-fucking-one in the whole fucking world will find you where I’ll take you.” 

“M-Miss Savvie, my hand-”

“You’ll be safe.” She drags his hand up against her chest, over her heart, holding it with both of hers now, squeezing as tightly as she can until she can feel the bones grind together in her grip. “You’ll be with me, far away from anyone who could take you away, and you won’t be able to leave me, not ever.”

“I w-wouldn’t-... Miss S-Savvie, please stop, m-my hand-”

“You won’t ever fucking leave me.” She takes in a deep breath, lets it out in shaky little exhales, and lets him go. He jerks back from her, staring down with slightly wide eyes, and she looks, too.

His hand is reddened from being squeezed so tightly, his fingers splayed open. There are little red crescents dug into his palms, new wounds on old scars, where he sometimes keeps his hands in fists, a nervous habit, he says, nothing more.

Now, there are red marks on the back of his hand, not crescents, but inch-long trails over those same blueish purple veins - blood welling up under the skin where her nails pressed so deeply, so firmly, that they broke the skin as she dragged them down the back of his hand. He rubs at his palm, making the ring he’s wearing glint in the light, and the shine is a reminder, just like the black shock collar he wears around his neck, that he’ll always wear, until she can trust him.

“I would never hurt you,” She says, and even she can’t escape the incongruity of the words when compared to the beads of blood she can see where she’s already done just that, the sore throat that keeps him hoarse and half-whispering after a night spent in screaming pain locked in his room where she could hurt him without having to see or hear it happen. “But if you leave me-... if you try-”

“I w-won’t, Miss Savvie,” He answers quickly, maybe too quickly, his shoulders hunched, staring down at his hand, still.

“If you leave me,” Savvie says, voice flat and sincere, “I’ll make sure Isaac kills your father, and your mother, and your mother’s fucking dogs and I’ll make you watch every single one of them die… but I’ll never, ever let him kill you. Go wash your hand.”

He’s up and in the bathroom before she even finishes her sentence. The door closes behind him, not quite a slam, not quite careful, either. She listens but he doesn’t try to lock her out. He knows better. Last time he tried to lock a door she made him regret it.

She takes deep breaths, centering herself slowly. In through her nose, out through her mouth. In through her nose, out through her mouth. In through her nose…

She clicks through the photos of the little vacation home again. The house tucked away in the woods, the beautiful design, the riverbank and the huge custom-made bed. She imagines Jax, ring on his left ring finger now, making her breakfast. She imagines him wearing a beautiful leather collar instead of the ugly black shock collar. Once she thought he wouldn't wear one, one day - but in her daydreams, he always is.

Maybe she just can’t even imagine him without one, now.

She imagines him saying, I love you, Savvie. She imagines him somewhere where he can never, ever be rescued stolen away from her, ever again.

By the time he comes back from the bathroom, his hand wrapped in gauze, aftershocks running over his skin worse than before, she’s happy again, gesturing him back into bed with her. In a bright, cheerful voice, she asks, “Want to watch a movie?”

He stares at her, blank-faced, before he does… something that’s sort of a nod but also not really a response at all, and climbs back in beside her. 

Russia, she thinks, as she settles back in, feeling him tense and relax when she snuggles up against him, arms around his waist. He’ll be happy, really happy, there, where there will be only the two of them, forever and ever.

He’ll be happy, once he really understands that no one else but her will ever see him alive again.

---

Tagging: @astrobly, @slaintetowhump, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @moose-teeth, @eatyourdamnpears, @whump-tr0pes, @orchidscript, @whumpiary

#whumptober 2020 #no. 6 #please stop #intimate whumper #lady whumper #other people's ocs #whump #shock collar #death threats #captivity #slavery whump #creepy whumper #sadistic whumper #hand whump #whumptober2020

[frozenartscapes]

Hey, so remember that idea post from earlier today? I followed through with something...

-- -- --

“What...the fuck.”

Edelgard cocked her head to one side, eyeing her former professor with confusion. “Something has...happened,” she stated, blunt as she always was.

“Yeah, no shit!” Byleth exclaimed, running her hands through her hair as she tried to piece together what was going on. One minute, she was alone in the throne room of a palace-turned-museum. Standing before a solitary candle marking the spot where she once was forced to strike down her old student because of some stupid war and now...now...

That same student knelt in place of that candle, exactly how she had been moments before Byleth’s sword split her skull in half.

Edelgard frowned, mostly at the exasperated tone. She pulled her eyes off Byleth, who looked considerably less threatening now than she did mere seconds ago. She closed her eyes on a hardened mercenary, dressed to the nines in gaudy religious garb and wielding the most terrifying weapon in history. Now... She was wearing some kind of jacket - and using the sleeves properly - and had smooth, pristine pants and heels. There wasn’t a speck of dirt or blood on her, and rather than a weapon of incredible destruction she had a rectangular bag, strap slung over one shoulder.

Enough ogling her old professor... She glanced around and, yes, it was still the throne room. But...it was also different. The banners were wrong. There was a different rug. There were these strange...glowing orbs positioned at the top of each pillar, shining artificial light along the central nave. All of the chandeliers were outfitted with similar-looking lights. They weren’t real candles, she could tell that much.

Slowly, she pushed herself up to her feet, an undignified grunt leaving her lips as her body strained under her injuries. That was easier said than done - she had been using the Sword of Seiros as a crutch moments ago, but now it has vanished into thin air.

Byleth took a step back, subconsciously reaching for a sword that wasn’t there. “It’s...alright, my Teacher,” Edelgard breathed, “I doubt...I could give you...much of a fight...”

“Right. You...you’re injured,” Byleth remembered, “We would have just fought...”

Edelgard narrowed her eyes. “You don’t...remember?”

“I...” Byleth gulped nervously, shifting back and forth on her feet anxiously. She tightened her grip on the strap of her laptop bag, and drew a deep breath. Might as well rip the bandaid off. “It’s been... 850 years since our last battle, Edelgard.”

Edelgard blinked. Byleth assumed she was in shock, but then she looked around the throne room once more. “The palace...still stands after all this time?” she wondered softly.

“You...you’re not... Freaked out by this?” Byleth stammered.

“I am... Processing it,” Edelgard admitted, “I imagine...it will hit me when I’m...in better shape.”

“Oh shit, right. Here.” Without thinking, Byleth stepped forward and gently pressed her hand on one of Edelgard’s most concerning injuries. She tapped into magic she hadn’t needed to use in centuries, surprised at how easily it all came back. Healing magic spread through the Emperor’s body, and it wasn’t until most of the wounds were closed up that Byleth realized she had just healed the woman who she had been fighting to the death against.

She leapt back, drawing the only weapon she had on her: a small pocket knife. Edelgard regarded the weapon in curiosity more than anything. Although Byleth did see her reach for where her dagger had been on her belt, only to discover it wasn’t there. ‘Of course it’s not,’ she thought to herself in relief, ‘That dagger is in the Flame Emperor exhibit.’

“I’m not going to kill you,” Edelgard said simply, taking her eyes off the knife and focusing on Byleth’s face, “Not that I could. I appear to be unarmed. For some reason.”

“O...ok,” Byleth stuttered, still not quite ready to lower the knife, “Erm...why?”

Edelgard shrugged. ���If this truly is the future, then I find myself here without any kind of guide, and loathe as I am to admit it, I will likely need one of those. You seem to know what’s going on.” Her eyes narrowed again. “And you’re here, too. I suppose that means you cannot die, even if I tried.”

“Well, technically I still could...” Byleth began, before shutting her mouth. “Ok, so... I accept your truce,” she said, lowering the knife and tucking it back in her pocket, “I...I suppose I should... Oh goddess, what am I going to do?”

“Well, that depends,” Edelgard said, assuming that dignified air only an Emperor could pull off, “In this future, would something like the tyrannical Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg magically reappearing be received well, or would you rather keep such a thing a secret?”

Byleth’s eyes widened slightly. “I...” she stammered, before looking away nervously, “You were never a tyrant.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Professor,” Edelgard told her with a small, sad smile, “How does history view me? A monster? A madwoman? A visionary who lost her vision in all the bloodshed? There’s no need to sugarcoat it - I already know how I must have looked.”

“Misunderstood.”

“...What?”

“I...” Byleth blushed, awkwardly rubbing one arm. “I found...notes. In your office, after...” She gulped, and continued anxiously, “I found letters and drawings and diaries and drafts... I pieced together what happened to you. I made sure the world knew. I picked up where you left off. I couldn’t let the things that happened to you keep happening. Edelgard...the world we live in now wouldn’t exist were it not for you. You were a... troublesome political figure. But ultimately you were good. I made sure the people knew that.”

Edelgard stared at her, wide eyed and slack-jawed. Eventually, she broke her gaze away, turning and covering her mouth with one hand. “I...” she muttered. She quickly wiped away something on her cheek.

“Look... We should get out of here before someone sees you,” Byleth said, suddenly worried she had said something wrong.

Edelgard turned, and there was a smile on her face. “Yes. Lead the way, my Teacher,” she said softly.

Byleth nodded, feeling something wonderful stir in her chest at such a beautiful sight. “Ok. Let’s head to my car. I’ve got a spare room in my apartment - you can sleep there until we get things sorted out. I should have some spare clothes you can borrow, too.”

“I...I trust you, Professor,” Edelgard said, the slight stammer in her voice the only betrayal of her confidence, “I just have one question.”

“I’ll do my best to answer it.”

“...What’s a ‘car’?”

#au ideas #fanfic #i don't have a title for this yet #if i keep going it will eventually be domestic edeleth #but first el needs to learn about technology #frankly she's too overwhelmed to murder right now #if anyone wants to keep this going feel free #i'm open to this being a collaborative effort #fe three houses #edelgard #byleth #a world without gods