#my favorite part about this image is that orange is like ''hold up. I got this'' and then immediately after
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On the set of Head, 1968.
“‘What stood out for me with Davy as an artist was his spontaneous stagecraft,’ Tork recalls. ‘He enjoyed himself on stage, for sure, gloried in his part. He was so alert as an entertainer and so relaxed that things would come to him out of the blue and he would just go with them. He could be incredibly funny. Micky and I were always breaking up on stage. [...] I’m so sorry he’s gone. I’m going to miss that wit and heart.’” - Billboard, March 1, 2012
“Genuine, reliable and huggable, Peter is a natural person — really gets off on talent — loves other musicians and can jam along with the best of ‘em. I saw him holding his own with Hendrix, Stills, Young. He encouraged me no end. Bought me my first guitar and my first drum kit.
[…] Never really got into fashions — he had his own. The first guy I ever met who wore different-colored socks. Wore his belt buckle on the side. Hated boots. Always had on sandals or moccasins. He used to walk with a swagger, swinging his arms with a confident air. He calmed hysteria, and lifted depression.
‘Dried banana, anybody? Piece of orange?’ — smiling, waving, running his hand through his hair.
He knew all the crew by their first names. Kids crying at his feet he lifted and hugged like a father calming a child.
Health food was just starting to catch on in the sixties and Peter was kind of a forerunner of that whole scene. I’m afraid that sort of image was a little thin for two other guys I could mention, but I understood — I really did. And I think he knew it. […]
He’s the most musically talented of us all by a mile. His songs are real. ‘For Pete’s Sake’ — which replaced the Monkees Theme at the end of the some of the shows of the second season — is one of my all-time favorite songs by anybody.
I’ve joked a lot about Peter giving everything away. But it was true. He was always giving his spare room to someone who needed it for the night — anyone. And he always seemed far away somewhere — in a different space. But I’m glad I know him. Of all the things he gave, he gave me lots of laughs — and food for thought.” - Davy Jones
“[Micky] and Mike and I have a very cordial relationship and share a lot of common topics. We go to lunch together when we’re all in town and have a good time. I love and respect each of these guys in their own way, although the real joys that I shared with Davy were special. At one point we had some good hard connections but as the years rolled on, those things faded away. But I am sorry to see Davy go. He was the one member in the group that I had the strongest human connection with. I still have two guys that I love and respect left from the band, but we share a different dynamic.” - Peter Tork, Review Mag, May 27, 2016
"I only now have, in the last couple of years, come to understand how smart and good-hearted Davy Jones could be. I did not have the skills to notice that, even though I was drawn to it without knowing exactly why. But I certainly did not have the first clue of how to encourage all of the good stuff from Davy that I loved. I wish I could have known how to do it - and he might still be with us, even.” - Las Vegas Weekly, September 14, 2016 (x)
“Well, I’ve never been really close with Michael [Nesmith] for some reason. You know, I have a lot of respect for him and admiration. But somehow we’ve never integrated. We’ve never been warm with each other. We worked together and did pretty well at it really.” - Peter Tork, Clevescene, March 13, 2017
Q: “I’m curious about the various reunions that happened over the years. Is it safe to say that you guys were never really friends?”
Peter Tork: “Oh, I don’t know. I would say I was pretty good friends with Micky, and there was a lot of love between me and Davy. I have a lot of respect for Mike Nesmith and we’ve structured ways to work together. Things rotate. It’s like having a basketball team. You know, gosh, it’s like having a championship basketball team. They go on the road every so often and do tours, you know, just exhibition tours but fortunately your music skills don’t deteriorate as fast as your basketball skills do, but I wouldn’t know what else to compare it to. We had a chance to go out together and we took it, and we had a great time, and if we were not friends at all we would not have been able to do it. We played tours months and months long: ‘86, ‘87, ‘89, ‘91, ‘92, ‘96, ‘97, 2001, 2002 and 2011, so we couldn’t have been such enemies.” - Phawker, circa 2012; re-published 2019
And a throwback to Michael's 1972 Hit Parader comments about Peter in an older post.
#Peter Tork#Davy Jones#Micky Dolenz#Michael Nesmith#Tork quotes#The Monkees#Monkees#Peter and Davy#Peter and Micky#Peter and Michael#long read#Head (1968)#Billboard Magazine#Clevescene#Las Vegas Weekly#Phawker#can you queue it
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Mabel Sweater/Part 1: About
oh, how happy I am with this one.
I had this project in mind for a while so bringing it out into the world and having it fit and look exactly how I wanted is amazing. I will write two posts about it, because I want to 1- tell you all about it (yarn, pattern, duplicate stitching) and 2- explain the surgery I did on the sleeves to avoid re-doing them completely.
if you don't recognize it, this sweater is inspired by one worn by Mabel in the animated series Gravity Falls (check Disney+, it's so good, so worth it).
the yarn
Wool of the Andes (WotA) is my favorite worsted weight yarn. it's affordable, available in a wide range of colors (many beautiful heathered colorways, too, which I adore), it's non-superwash but not too itchy. it spit splices like a charm and has great warmth. you can knit it at various gauges in the DK-aran range with no problem. not an ad - I just really genuinely love this yarn, lol.
here are the colors I used, from left to right: dragonfruit, creme brulee, poet, tranquil and pumpkin. I think it's a prettttyy good match! I didn't want the orange to be too bright so pumkpin is perfect.
I was very intimidated by the dragonfruit colorway as I don't wear bright colors very often, but it has unlocked a love for pink I didn't know I had! and enough people have told me that it looks good on me that I believe them, now, lol.
the pattern
I wanted a loose-fitting, drop-shoulder, crew neck sweater. I know Mabel's sweaters all have that turtleneck action going on, but I am not comfortable in anything closer than a crew neck. I didn't use a pattern because I can make my own ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ hot take: drop shoulder sweaters are the easiest to grade and any decent designer should be able to have all sizes available. also, as a knitter, you can just knit bigger arm openings if you need bigger sleeves, simple as that.
so, I did some math to figure out how many stitches the body had to be. I divided that in two, for front and back. I decided that there would be one purl stitch on each side for a "faux-seam". I also decided that the neck opening should be a little under a third of the width. so I cast-on for the right shoulder, knit a few rows, put those on hold, did the same for the left shoulder, cast-on my neck stitches in between them, and worked the back until I had reached where the underarm would be. I then put my back stitches on hold and started working on the front. I picked up stitched from the right shoulder and just started to knit, shaping the neckline by trying it on me every few rows until I was satisfied. I put that on hold, mirrored it on the left side, then cast-on stitches in the middle, and knit straight until the front was as long as the back. I then joined everything to work in the round until I was satisfied with the length. so, you know. pretty basic improvised top-down drop-shoulder sleeve construction!
speaking of the sleeves, I picked up stitches with no regard for my row gauge. there were too many, the sleeves were puffy, and I didn't like the look. more on how I fixed them in part 2. aside from that, I opted for decreasing in the round every ten rows or so instead of decreasing under the arm. you can see the decreases on the sleeves a little, but I don't really mind, I like the fit better than if they were triangular.
the shooting star
I made the grid in Stitch Fiddle. I just googled something like "mabel rainbow shooting star sweater" and found an image of the design. I imported it in Stitch Fiddle and ... fiddled ... a bit with it. I figured out how many stitches wide I wanted it to be, and I had to slightly tilt the image so the star wouldn't be too wonky. it would have looked better if I had user a thinner yarn for the sweater, but I think I got a decent result for my gauge.
for the shooting star, I opted for duplicate stitching because I hate intarsia. it took three tries to find the technique that worked best for me and I ended up falling in love with the rhythm of it. for real, I was sad to be done at the end. I worked left-to-right, breaking my yarn for every "line" except the very short ones. here's a pic of the backside, if you're wondering what it looks like.
final thoughts
so yeah, pretty proud of myself on this one. I learned new techniques, I improvised a pattern. it was an exercise in trusting my instincts as I tend to overthink everything I create. it was also a project I knit for fun, for me, without the pressure of writing the pattern or having a deadline. as a bonus, I now have an easy Halloween costume!
#mabel pines#gravity falls#mabel sweater#cosplay knitting#knitters of tumblr#plus size knitter#knitting
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part 2 of this ask
📝Process for hurt mezu drawing
here are the steps i dug out of an art server's wips channel lol
1. initial sketch
2. refine sketch. thats lines now babey. (omitted "the sleeves are KILLING ME WAHHH" stage that led to this)
3. grayscale, to use with gradient map (this is a more polished grayscale than I started with, i dug the working file out to get better images)
4. find nice gradient map (ended up being the same one I'd used for the piece i made right before. the goal is to make what's essentially an underpainting, not to color the whole thing with one map)
5. tweak and add colors that arent in the map with hard light layers & also sneak in a layer for special effect and atmospheric/ scenic perspective while you're at it
6. shading & more finishing effects. pretty much all of the shading was done with hard light layers! the only non-hard light layers I used for the shading were the particle effect layers & like one faint glow layer to fix some values. blood was done with linear burn
✨Inspiration for hurt mezu drawing
the coloring method (grayscale -> saturated gradient map underpainting -> additive color adjustments) is something I tried out with the piece i'd made right before (the one where gozu is holding mezu from behind) & turned out really well, so I wanted to keep going with it
I also wanted to draw them angstily again because it'd been a very long time. like half a year at least. angsting them is very enriching for my soul so I try to do it regularly, this one was overdue
subconsciously referenced the poses in the initial sketch from this old thing (feb 2021). i love doing this. all my for-fun works recycle old elements in some way. my favorite game is "what old art reminds me of what im doing rn" im so good at digging stuff out of my archives for it. everyone loves when i do this
the gangi-kozou panel also
i went through a "shade in bold red-orange & dark blue with hard light layers" phase in like..april/may of 2021. i still like that stuff a lot so I wanted to revisit it
💚Things you like about hurt mezu drawing
repasting the link there but the sixth image in the process is essentially the final so you can just look at that
the colors are nice!! I'm real happy with using more saturated colors n I think the warm vs cool balance works really well
the sleeves (man being dramatic on the sand meme)
no like fr look at the 2021 piece's kimono sleeves vs the one I just did 2.5 years later. so satisfying
Gozu's expression came out nice
i think the claws and flash lines successfully added Emphasis to Gozu's expression & the piece overall
the poses … the drama …. the brush textures are also good
⏳Things you’d do differently with hurt mezu drawing
add in a liiitle more contrast...aka use a wider range of values. Some lighter lights and darker darks. I miss my 2021 hard neon lighting
a bit more distinction between the characters and the background also
the composition isn't bad but it could be better. Should've thought more about the way the eye would flow around the image in the drafting stage (solid b&w color block thumbnails are good for this)
Moar Sparkles. (I put a solid amount of large & low opacity light bubbles in there & some finer brighter dots especially around the claw stems, but I think more clusters of tiny bright lights on the characters themselves would've gone hard)
💌Some favourite feedback on art
as the wise man Austin Kleon once said: keep a "praise file" of all the positive feedback you get (if you've never read "Steal Like an Artist," you must). so. i am prepared for this question hold on
tastes like sugar glass
multiple people have told me my art is soft & dreamlike
jayce you reblogged my touchstarved art with nice tags on april 10th ive got that saved love uou
umm theres a lot...anytime someone keysmashes or feels emotional because of my art i get happy ,,, lys messaged me about the hurt mezu piece that made me happy also,,,,,there is so much joy in the world
#shitboxposting#asks#shitbox drawn#JM SORRY I FEEL LIKE THE FORMATTING ISNT EASY TO READ NO MATTER WHAT I DO....AUGH#all my class work with actual conecptual meaning is monochrome what am i doing...man.......#i need to post more art and i also need to make more art. aghhh. boots up ultrakill and magical drop again#im actually Not sure how im going to afford the next few years of my life 😭😭 a bitch gotta have time to do fuck all but i need money..!!!!#whatever its fine. i have time to do fuck all right Now and thats what matters
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GABIT INSP 2022 Part II - Q&A session #1
Disclaimer: I am writing this summary from my memory and the notes I have taken. I make no claim to completeness or accuracy since it's a very personal view. If anyone would like to add anything, feel free to do so in the reblogs or replies. Pictures are from different sources.
After a night of little sleep, I couldn’t wait to see Amanda on stage and ask her my very important question. The one I’ve been holding onto for 2.5 years.
First, Becky greeted us, and they showed a short tribute video of Amanda as Sam, Helen, and several other characters throughout her career.
Finally, Amanda entered, and the crowd cheered.
Somehow, she couldn’t believe that so many people still wanted to see her. She thanked everyone for being here with her, said she missed her mum terribly and feels her spirit/ghost is with us for the weekend.
She admitted to having had a crappy year, has eaten her weight through the pandemic, and wants to use this convention to kick the past year in the ass and start a new, better chapter.
Next, she apologized for not being active on social media and vowed to mend her ways.
After that, she tolds us little bit about Olivia and her remarkable ability to use logic to talk her way out of a strife. "Mom, I've always been a good kid. Please let me have this moment." How can you argue against that?
The other night, she had chatted with Teryl who sends her love. And Suanne feels like sisterhood.
She tolds us a story about how she woke up and Julia next to her didn’t make a noise (usually a loud snorer). Since Amanda feared Julia was dead, she poked her but didn’t get an immediate reaction until, a few seconds later, Julia snored again. That was a huge scare!
(this picture was displayed later during the 2nd Q&A but fits best here)
And the night before, Amanda couldn’t sleep, so she watched Gogglebox. (side note: Gogglebox is a British reality television series which documents families and groups of friends around the United Kingdom who are filmed for their observations and reactions to the previous week's television from their own homes.) She landed on an episode of Naked Attraction. She felt simultaneously attracted and repelled by what was happening: a dating show with naked people. Only strategically placed cards prevented her from getting a full view of the contestants. However, she reacted with "Argh, penis!" when the camera panned up the legs of an excited guy and the comment was “Oh, he shaved his balls.”. Now, she couldn't get certain images out of her head. It caused a lot of laughter in the room and became the running gag of the event.
Next, the Q&A part started (I can’t remember the first question) and I asked, “What is Samantha Carter’s favorite color? Please don’t say blue.” Amanda admitted she had never thought about it and went like “If you look at her house, maybe green... or orange...*walks from one side of the stage to the other*... good question... blue...*laughter from the crowd*... do what you want with it.” As an afterthought, she added, “Indigo? Indiorange?” (Thank you, Amanda. And yes, I will do whatever I want with your answer. I just have to convince my muse to settle for one option.)
Someone asked if she could only one thing for the rest of her life, what would it be - acting or directing? - Directing because she would have a longer career.
We got to talking about her dog, Riley. He’s doing well and she likes to take long walks with him.
Someone asked what her thoughts were on the AI reading. She said that the first script felt stilted and had poor grammar. But the second one was better, and she was surprised how well the AI nailed Jack’s sarcasm. She didn’t understand where the AI got the impression that Daniel would come down the stairs in Jack’s cabin and not Sam, and that, unfortunately, the AI is unable to write for Teal’c because it needs a certain amount of words, and “Indeed” isn’t enough.
Just before the end, Suanne surprised Amanda and joined her on stage.
They talked a bit about life in general and how good it was to see each other again.
On the screen, the last minute was counting down, and Amanda, who is known for overrunning, received the following message when she wouldn't stop talking.
That’s it for the first Q&A session. Since it’s already a long post, I decide to split the sessions and write a post about each of them.
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[Fanfiction] Filmstrip (Part 1)
After all these years, I've finally written a fanfiction for UtaPri (and my first one since high school).
It's a oneshot of Ren and Tokiya (of course). I intended for it to be TokiRen, but it can be read as RenToki as well (in the future I plan to write a Part 2 for both scenarios). It's non-explicit but there's implication towards the end, so I've labeled it for sexual themes just in case (Part 2 will be explicit). Story is below the cut--I hope you enjoy!
"Filmstrip" (Part 1)
Ren & Tokiya oneshot, non-R18 (sexual implications towards the end)
Minor Starish Tours movie spoiler warning!
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“...please stop saying I’m cute.” Without even turning to look at Ren standing over him behind the couch, Tokiya already knew there was a mischievous grin on his face. He could feel it–or maybe what he was feeling was just the burning of his face from embarrassment. He turned a page in his book as smoothly as he possibly could.
“But you are? Just look at this smile!!” Ren replied, unwilling to acknowledge Tokiya’s request. He knew that ‘c’ word wasn’t Icchi’s favorite but he couldn’t help it this time. Two days before, he had managed to hide his identity and sneak into the theater to watch Maji Love Starish Tours–very much to Tokiya’s disapproval–but he absolutely needed to get those tiny film strips that everyone was raving about, even if it was just one.
He lucked out–even though he went in not having any preferred shots, the first one he got was one to die for–a close-up of his precious Icchi, eyes closed with the purest, most child-like smile on his face during START OURS. As soon as Ren saw it, he knew he had to place it in a clear sleeve, and then in a protective card case, to keep it safe from any damage. At some point he’ll probably have his butler George take it to a photo studio to get a blown-up print from one of the frames.
Tokiya was somewhat curious about which smile Ren was talking about, but resisted and continued reading. Suddenly the book in his hands went from chest level into his lap; Ren had pushed it down and crouched down on the floor in front of him.
He was beaming. “Such joy, I wonder what you were thinking of,” he mused, holding the sleeved film by the edges up to Tokiya’s face. Ren's eyes squinted slightly as he looked up at his lover.
Tokiya's gaze narrowed at the piece of plastic in front of him. His jaw clenched tightly at the thought of the camera possibly capturing his face in what he’d consider an unflattering form. But he and Ren have always been very mindful of camera positions and angles during any and every performance. Besides, they’re professionals who rehearse many times, and they always review their work post-production, so there shouldn’t be any reason to worry. But this filmstrip movie bonus was something new for them. Even though they were told all of the undesirable and blank shots would be excluded, the idea of having thousands of possible shots cut up and distributed, and one of them getting into the hands of–
“Icchi…Icchi? Icchi. ICCHI!!”
He could feel several taps on his right thigh and finally snapped out of his daze. His eyes re-focused–not even having taken in a clear image of the film in Ren’s possession–and he glanced past it to see his orange-haired partner with a mix of concern and confusion on his face.
Ren’s eyebrows furrowed. “If it’s really not okay, I can give it away,” he pouted.
This time it was Tokiya’s turn to squint. Nice try putting on the sad kitten face, Ren. “And to whom would you be giving it?”
The sad kitten face turned into a sneaky cat grin. “Probably Bukki or Ikki–”
“ABSOLUTELY NOT.” Tokiya pulled the cased filmstrip out of Ren’s grasp and held it up high–somehow still being sensitive to the film’s fragility–and Ren let out a hearty laugh. Still kneeling on the floor with his left hand on Tokiya’s thigh, he stretched his right arm up for the film, which was obviously out of his reach.
“Be careful Icchi,” he chuckled. “If I have George take it to a secondhand shop it has to be in pristine condition!”
“You’re not doing that either!!” As feasible as it would be for the butler to visit a shop in Ren’s place, it would probably be better to not get any more people involved. A fellow professional having a filmstrip wasn’t really all that bad so there was no reason to try to rectify the situation.
“Then what am I supposed to do?” Ren whined. He lowered his arm, and pressed both hands lightly into each of Tokiya’s thighs, using them for support as he started to get up.
Maybe it was the continued weight on his lap activating a particular mood within him, but Tokiya’s inner greed wanted to take Ren’s question as an invitation to make demands and then indulge. His defiance slowly waned as he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he directed his gaze towards Ren’s face. “Can you give me something in return?”
Ren, not one to falter so easily, turned his mouth up slightly into a subtle smile. “Of course. And what would that be?”
With his free hand, Tokiya tugged lightly on Ren’s shirt to bring his body closer to his own, fixing his turquoise eyes on the ocean blues in front of him. Without looking away, he placed the filmstrip between the open pages of the book in his lap, no longer interested in what the shot looked like.
“I want you to show me a face that not even the fans nor cameras can see.”
Ren’s expression changed from curiosity to one of calculation. Hands still pressed onto Tokiya’s thighs, he finally shifted his weight and pulled himself up onto the sofa next to him. His eyes searched Tokiya's face as he leaned closer, eager to see where his partner was going to take this conversation before his desires got the best of him.
“You sure you don’t want cameras?” he teased.
“Are you implying the image would be forgettable?” Tokiya countered coolly. He caressed Ren’s cheek and further closed the distance between them. “Or that it won’t happen more than once?”
Ren huffed slightly while trying not to break his smile. Seeing this, Tokiya closed the open book in his lap–sandwiching the filmstrip inside as a bookmark to keep his place–and reached past Ren to set it on the side table behind him. As he did so, he pressed his lips against Ren’s ear. “Or perhaps you want to watch yourself afterwards…?”
Ren swallowed hard at the scandalous image Tokiya just put in his head. He knew Icchi was always hiding a beast when in the public eye, but since their last concert, he's grown even bolder and more confident than Ren expected he would, not just on stage but also when they were alone. Until now he always had the upper hand in their playful banter; he was starting to lose control–or perhaps starting to relinquish it more willingly–and Tokiya was quick to take advantage of his vulnerability.
Releasing the book onto the table, Tokiya leaned back to see that his beau was no longer smiling, but instead biting his lower lip, chest heaving as exhales of air escaped through his nose. Tokiya stood up from the couch, looked down at the man who was just a moment away from conceding defeat, and held out his hand.
“Come,” he whispered, nodding his head towards the bedroom. “Let’s go find your camera.”
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#utapri#uta no prince-sama#ichinose tokiya#jinguji ren#utapri fanfic#utapri fanfiction#tokiya x ren#ren x tokiya
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I manifested a new album from my favorite band by writing an undertale fan fiction.
Here’s a little factoid about me you might not know I have a three days grace tattoo on my arm, It was on my arm at the time of writing somewhere between red and orange, my Undertale fanfiction.  When this album first came out, I immediately bought the vinyl and the CD. I knew immediately that the comparison must have been too close to just be a  coincidence. After many months of this album already being out I think im finally ready to post my theory. While I wrote this story with this tattoo on my arm, I helped manifest  undertale imagery to the band members of three days grace, Caused them to be motivated to write a new album ( remember, this is during the course of a few years. When I started, they had just released outsider their album before ‘explosions’)
So to explain, Three Days Grace released an album called ‘Explosions’ around spring of last year. Each song was represented by a different soul color. With the color choice for the album cover being a very bright, red and orange fiery soul.
The album contains the song choice called “I am the weapon” which readers of the story will know Ember soul was in danger of becoming a weapon. Because if the monster kingdom had her on their side, her power would be enough to summon blizzard, a Cerberus capable of wiping out humans, planned to be used should there ever be another war, the need for leverage arises, Embers assistance would be requested. So in short, Ember (me) could utilize her soul, because her soul could power any weapon. (however it always requires her consent)
It’s ironic because the whole album talks about us being small when it comes to the entire universe.
The song, ‘souvenirs’  on the album, reminds me of how the monsters in the underground got their information from the items that appeared in waterfall.
Of course, I believe this album manifested to me in my life, and how I view objects as some thing that aren’t permanent enough to stress over but are important enough to respect as memories and moments in our lives. I will always be proud of my memories with Undertale, because writing this fanfiction about my beloved had become such a big part of my life, so much so I chose to go to college for creative Writing.  I’m currently still working on my reworking of the story, so that I can rewrite and this time use all of the skill and polish I’ve learned here in college.
What have I learned from this album, created by Destiny just for me? It talks about the feelings we have as humans here on this earth, but most importantly, it speaks as it from my own personal triumphant perspective. The album with each song informed me of how powerful I am and told me of how strong and how i will always be the survivor and savior of my own life, not even once defeated because “There’s no way I’m giving up, cause it’s just not in my blood.” I knew getting that tattoo was the right choice, just like I knew the writing this story was the right choice too. Just look at what I’m capable of when I focus my effort.
Just look at the amazing power of love and effort that I have. I can do anything with the power I have. I can write a story about anyone and make it come true, but I guess it’s the power of being who I am, I can write my hopes and dreams into existence. By writing.
Overall TL;DR I wrote an Undertale fanfiction while I had a Three Days Grace tattoo on my arm. Then, two years later (a year into my complete reworking) the prior mentioned band, then came out with an album. The album cover art is an exact likeness to the symbol of my book series. (just like two hands holding an apple, is the imagery symbol for twilight). The album cover is ‘Ember’s’ (the main character in my story) soul. It is Almost identical to the very first image of Ember’s that first appeared in my fanfiction. (The image I’m referring to is that of my current icon: also posted as one of the first posts on this blog’s timeline.) Virtually identical to what Embers soul would have looked like before her betrayal lines or once healed from them. I manifested the album and heavily influenced the theme, of my favorite bands newest album.
Defense/clarification:
“Why could it only have been me?”
I write for an entire year with a three days grace tattoo on my arm, and Undertale fanfiction were the main characters soul was so similar looking to fire She was nicknamed ‘Ember’.
 Then, two years later, TDG came out with this album.
“Isn’t a heart image too common to consider this more than a coincidence?”
Actually no, you see the world is equally an unbiasedly random. If the only evidence was just the album cover art being a fiery red heart alone, inclined to believe you. However, that was not the only evidence and the imagery in this album isn’t the only evidence either. It’s an every song, lyric and song, title and way the song is played. Not to mention,  there’s more obvious evidence that relates and connects back to my story. The fact that ALL colors of souls used in Undertale, were also used for the album. Each color present in both the album and the game.
“But again why just you?”
Because you must consider all the evidence as a collective. It’s the perfect timing, the fact that I had this tattoo before during, and after the writing process. It’s the fact that I was writing a story where its imagery, directly correlated to the album, because the band chose to prioritize the Orange and red fiery heart color for the final album cover art.
“Do I think three days grace knows about this?”
 No, I think this was more of an act of destiny and an act of God however, Spiritually, they may have been doing it on purpose which is really sweet.
I’d like to think they’re completely unaware of this. I knew where to find this album so it means I could have the opportunity to be made aware by the universe.  A guiding light from all the gods telling me I’m on the right track.
#somewherebetweenredandorange#undertale#ao3 writer#three days grace#TDG#explosions#album#mysoulmatesloveme#kolerwasproudofme#showinghimhowarealqueenbehaves
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yeah, kalos wasn’t generic’s favorite region
the legendaries were rude, the restaurants were “eh,” and this one guy was determined to reset the world at any cost?
(image descriptions under the cut)
Comic with grayscale backgrounds, taking place in the Team Flare underground base in Geosenge.
1. Anonymous ask: What what did Lysander do???
2. Generic is dressed in his Kalos adventuring outfit: a beanie that hides his iconic 3-pronged cowlick, his usual fingerless gloves, a simple overshirt covering a plain t-shirt, jeans, and his usual sneakers.
He turns to Yvonne and Shauna outside the door of Lysandre’s lab and tells them, to their dismay, “Listen, you two. You did a great job helping me with the Grunts and door lock, but I think you should get somewhere safe now.”
“But we’re all friends, aren’t we? We’re supposed to be doing this whole journey together!” Shauna pleads, her eyes shining. “Even the scary parts!” Yvonne adds, clenching her fist with determination.
“Well, yes, but this isn’t just scary -- it’s dangerous. The Legendary Pokemon is probably going to be in pain or grouchy about being woken up and it could lash out.” Gene holds up his hands helplessly, trying to get through to his young rivals. “I’d be a pretty bad friend if I put either of you in that situation. Besides, what would I tell your parents if you got hurt because of the Ultimate Weapon? ...You can help and be safe if you go get the Professor, okay?”
Yvonne crosses her arms, and Shauna perks up at at least having a goal. “Okay...!” “Okay...”
3. Gene enters the room where Yveltal is sleeping, curled up like an egg on a pedestal surrounded by immense power cables.
It’s Yveltal after all... Guess that’s why Xerneas wanted me to come to Kalos so quickly after Hoenn. Gene looks up at it, then pulls out a Pokeball and sighs, a flat expression on his face. Guess I’ll catch them. This won’t take long.
Quite a while later, Gene is standing in a pile of used-up Pokeballs, glaring up at Yveltal. “What the heck, Yveltal?! Don’t you want me to help you escape?” He snaps at it, but its eyes are huge and vacant.
“Of course not.” Lysandre walks in behind Gene, wearing his cybernetic suit. Gene glances at it, judging its tacky hovering energy-draining little robots and Lysandre’s slatted orange glasses as Lysandre continues. “It’s under my complete control.”
4. Lysandre walks past Generic, expressionless, ignoring his side-eye as he scoffs, “Of yeah? How did you manage that without some sort of energy-filled Orb?”
“I can’t tell you that right now. But Yveltal will do anything I tell it to until I get what I want.”
Lysandre turns and faces Generic ominously, and Generic rubs the back of his neck, sweating. “Really? Do we have to battle again? You’re just going to lose!”
Lys peeks over the rim of his glasses, and Yveltal mimics his movement. “I know. No ‘villain’ has ever been able to win when a ‘hero’ chosen by legendaries exists in the region.”
5. “So... what then?” Gene crosses his arms.
“So obviously I have to get rid of the hero in the region.”
Gene takes a split-second to process the implications of that, then looks up at Yveltal with a terrified “SHI--”
But his swear and the reflex to put his hands up to protect himself are cut off as Yveltal unleashes OBLIVION WING. It’s red. Everything is so red for a moment and then it fades to black.
6. The faint sounds of “eternal healing!” and two voices frantically begging “get up!” ring in Generic’s ears as he comes to. He’s lying face-down on the floor outside of Yveltal’s chamber, blood slowly moving again from where it had started pooling in his limbs, his eyes sunken and barely open. Celebi and Xerneas are tugging at his overshirt, pleading with him to be alive -- an overshirt that has a massive hole burned through the back of it.
In an instant, he realizes that his lungs are working -- screaming for air -- and he pushes himself up with one hand and GASPS. Tears are streaming from his eyes, which have dampened again, and the pink and blue glow of Xerneas’s healing isn’t working fast enough to stop him from shaking like a leaf with the sheer effort of sitting up into a kneeling position.
Xerneas looks rather pleased with itself, but Celebi’s relief and love is palpable.
“wh----” Gene gasps, looking with terror at the gaping hole in the back of his shirt (represented by a dark gray Y shape in the last panel).
“I slowed down time as much as I could but the Ultimate Weapon is almost charged! You have to go back in and catch Yveltal with the Master Ball and beat Lysandre!” Celebi looks scared for their hero, and guilty at having to burden him again in this state.
7. Inside the chamber, Lysandre has discarded his cybernetic machine, their purpose of draining Yveltal’s power complete. “At last... my new world... It’s almost ready...” He stares up in awe at Yveltal and types out some commands on the gadget around his wrist. The door “vwoosh”es open behind him.
A Thunder Stone THONKs off of the back of his head
and then Generic is in the doorway, propped up against the frame, clutching his sides and barely able to stand, but holding a Masterball steady. His eyes are still sunken and his face is scrunched up, both from fury and the Herculean task of staying upright.
“hey asshole” his throat is still dry. the words are barely coming out as a croak. “it didn’t work”
And he throws the Masterball right past Lysandre’s head, catching Yveltal.
8. Lysandre raises his shoulders and gives Generic a disgusted look. “FINE. I can’t win... today.”
Gene clutches at his chest with both hands, panting and dripping with sweat from the strain of being alive. His face is full of pain and disbelief as Lysandre continues, “I’m going to destroy this base with the energy in the Ultimate Weapon. Get out. Tell the rest of Team Flare to initiate the escape protocols.”
Lysandre slams on his wrist machine, which bleeps out a “WEAPON LAUNCH INITIATED”
“NO--” Gene tries to raise a shaky hand to stop Lysandre from -- getting away with it all, getting away -- but he can’t move. Lysandre teleports out of the base in a burst of blue, hurling one last “This isn’t over.” at Gene.
9. Later, Gene sits at a table in just his turtleneck, with his face resting in one hand and tracing the glow of Xerneas’s power with the other hand. “So... When do I stop glowing?”
“WHEN MY WONDERFUL GIFT OF ETERNAL LIFE HAS EXPELLED ALL OF YVELTAL’S DESTRUCTIVE ENERGY FROM YOUR CORPOREAL FORM AND HEALED THE DAMAGE IT DID! ...IT MAY BE A WHILE”
Even later, Dialga shouts at Celebi with the concern of a parent whose kid just ran into traffic. “I LEAVE YOU FOR TWO YEARS AND YOU MANAGE TO LET OUR SON DIE?”
Celebi waves their little arms reassuringly. “nooo babe it’s not like that it was Xerneas’s fault”
This is not reassuring.
#oceandi answers#anonymous#oceandi arts#generic protagonist#lysandre#yveltal#xerneas#OH yeah#cw swearing#it's like one word but I know some people don't like that#also uhhhh#cw implied death#it was only for a few minutes he's fiiiine pshhh#yeah I mentioned it in like one panel in my original backstory summary sjkdhfjkdshf#BUT to be fair at least no rivals were traumatized in the making of this personal conflict#dshfsdjhsdfjkdsf anyways I'll probably do a short pun comic this week and then I have like 2 more D: themed things and THEN#I can go back to alola where things are so much better sdkjhfkjsdhf#oh this was like 4-5 years ago in his current time though#that's what the therapy is for lol#that and having to start existing in his /20s/ I mean what a bad time fjkshdfkjhdsf
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For @pufferssss, happy late birthday!! ❤️
Waiting for sunrise
Words: 2968
The first and last time Levi visits Petra`s grave.
Levi arranged his cravat again, self-conscious at the thought of visiting her for the first time. He stood frozen in place, with a bouquet of orange lilies in his hand. Her favorite flowers. Just a mere coincidence, not an effort on his part, of course. He never imagined he would visit her here so early on. Staring at the newly carved headstone, he tried to set aside the nagging thought that the earth underneath it only held an empty coffin.
What should he say to her?
“Your dad came to see me after the mission, and I had to tell him that I don`t even have a body to bring back home to him”?
“I failed in getting justice for you and the guys”?
“I miss your tea”?
The only words he could spurt out were “Hi, Ral.”
He groaned at his awkwardness and settled on presenting her with the flowers he chose for her. He could feel his hands getting sweaty from anxiousness, much to his confusion. He had nothing to be nervous about. It was just Petra in front of him. His subordinate. Petra, who fought by his side for years. Who swore to devote her life to him. Just his Petra.
Levi sat on the ground next to the gravestone, unconcerned about the dirt he would have to clean out of his clothes at the end of the day. “I hope you can hear me, wherever you are. I like to think you`re listening.” He never spent much time concerning himself with death and the life that supposedly followed it, but ever since losing them as well, he found himself wishing they were happy. He knew that those brats would be wasting the rest they earned to look over him, no matter how much he objected.
“I hope you like the spot I chose for you. It`s sunny, but you also get some shade from the tree. I thought you`d like listening to birds singing." On their free days, he could always spot Petra with a book on her lap, under the shade of the oak tree in their yard. He never dared to bother her, worried he would disturb the angelic aura of the image, content with being fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of it. He never dared get so close to the sun.
"I`m going to bring some flowers we can plant next time I visit. I know you had a green thumb.” Levi omitted in letting her know it only took a month for the plant in his office that she cared for years to wither away in his care. Or maybe it just knew Petra would never be back.
Levi closed his eyes, lulled to sleep by the quietness around him and the feeling of the afternoon sky on his skin, considering if someone would bother him if he moved to the tree trunk to nap. He craved some peace.
“I`m sorry I didn`t get to come earlier. You missed a real shit show in Sina.” He took a glance at his wounded leg and sighed. “It`s not as bad as it looks, no need to mother me.”
Without raising his eyes from the ground in front of him, Levi admitted to her in a hoarse voice- “I kept calling out orders for you, and Erwin had to remind me that you`re not here anymore. Like I could ever fucking forget.”
Despite the emptiness in his chest, he went on- “Eren misses you. I really wish you could help me manage that brat. You always knew what to say to him. Hange misses you. I… everyone misses you.” They left a hole behind that he doubted he would ever patch.
Levi cleaned off some dust from her headstone before promising her he would be back as soon as he could.
As promised, the second time Levi visited her, he got her some daisies to plant next to her resting place. After wiping his hands clean on a rag, Levi sat down against the tree trunk to admire his work. He was sure Petra would be proud of the progress he made regarding gardening. He had even gotten a new plant to replace the one on his desk.
“Tch, not talkative today, are we? That`s alright, you know I always talk a lot.”
Visiting her calmed his restless spirit. His anxiety over the plan, his worry over Erwin`s wellbeing, his longing to have his old squad by his side again, they were all pilling up for the last few days. Levi found himself losing even more sleep lately. But he would never tell her that since it would most likely end in another one of her scoldings.
“You`re missing it, the final push. The brat`s finally going to do it, he`s going to seal the Wall.” Levi hoped that they would be able to carry out the mission. That his squad`s sacrifice to keep Eren alive would not have been in vain.
“You`re not being fair, are you? You already know what we will find in the basement, and yet you keep it all to yourself. Tch, be like that.” Would it all be worth it? The pain, the countless sacrifices, and the lives lost along the way? He wished Petra could answer that for him.
He never wanted to upset her, but Petra always encouraged him to let others help him carry the burden. Levi took a deep breath before speaking again- “I think Eren misses you. He`s been going on about how he wants to visit you again. Bring you flowers. To help me maintain this place clean." Levi rolled his eyes again and the memory. "Like I would ever need his help with that.”
Levi took the ribbon out of his pocket and started fiddling with it, ignoring the slight pang of guilt at how he came into its possession.
“I hope you won`t mind I took that.” The first night he spent without them, Levi found himself roaming the empty corridors of the castle. When his steps took him in front of Petra`s door, the urge to hold on to something physical to remember her overtook his sense of shame. He was aware that her belongings would go back to her parents in the next few days, but he hoped the red ribbon Petra used to tie her hair with would not be missed.
“I took your patch at first. I was going to keep it in my breast pocket. To have a reminder of your sacrifice. But when I saw that kid eaten up by guilt, I knew what I had to do. I knew what you would have wanted me to do with it.” He had no regrets about that. It was the perfect way to honor the kindest soldier the Survey Corps ever had.
When the light began to fade, Levi got up from his spot and left without saying another word to Petra. He did not want to say goodbye to her. Levi felt no need for it since death could be in his cards the next day. And he could get to see her again sooner than he thought.
The third time Levi visited her, it was not with a flower bouquet in his hand but with a bottle of cheap alcohol he found on Moblit`s desk. That night, Levi allowed grief to consume him.
"Erwin died. But I have a feeling you know that already, don`t you?" Levi wiped his nose with the back on his hand, too absorbed in his anger to even care about the disgusting habit.
"Are you mad at him? Are you mad that he chose to sacrifice your life?"
But only silence greeted him.
"Are you mad that I didn`t even question it?"
No answer again. The rage burning inside him overtook him, and Levi smashed the bottle against the headstone.
"Shit. I`m sorry, I shouldn`t have done that." Levi crouched down and collected the pieces of the bottle into his handkerchief. The grief, the anger, and now the shame for denigrating her place of rest were eating him alive.
"We found out the truth, you know? It`s a shitty world out there, Ral. But I have a feeling not even that would have cut off your wings."
Levi found himself craving touch. Her touch. And for the first time in his life, he felt the need to be comforted. He smiled to himself bitterly. How cruel must the deity who created him be for making him desire the impossible?
The fourth time Levi visited her, he brought a special gift for her. A small, odd thing that Armin called seashell.
“We saw the sea today. Just a big old pile of saltwater. But you would have loved it.”
Seeing the brats play in the water with carefree smiles on their face made him yearn for a glimpse of amber hair in the picture. He missed them all dearly.
“I would have to pull you out of it by the collar of your shirt, I bet.” For as devoted and strict as she was, Petra always seemed to cause him distress. Not that he minded it, of course. Levi found himself wishing to hear her timid knocks on his door again, even in the middle of the night. He longed for those times, where she shyly approached him after needing his help in whatever problem she found herself stuck in again.
While that was not his intention when he first came to her, his heart was heavy with words he never said to her. "The world hates us, Ral." He could never imagine how someone would ever detest someone as kind as Petra just for the blood running in her veins. But if he had to be true to himself, a part of him hated Petra as well.
"Maybe I hate you too."
Petra broke his promises to him, after all. Two years ago, when death was imminent on an expedition, and Petra put down her swords in acceptance, Levi fought with her. He made her promise she would make it to the end. That she would be by his side the day they kill the last titan.
"Do you remember your promises to me? Such bullshit. Never thought you were a liar, Petra."
But Levi knew she would have never left him had she had a choice. That she would have fought for even just a second more by his side. But it never dulled the pain of losing her.
With a heavy heart, Levi said his goodbye for the evening, guilty for blaming her for things out of her control.
The fifth time Levi visited her, it was snowing outside.
It was always a wonder how someone radiating light and warmth could be a winter child. But Levi was sure he memorized the date right. It was an important one for him, after all. Levi fought to make sure he had enough time to get ready for celebrating her birthday. She deserved nothing more than a perfect day. Hange had been more than understanding, the wound left by losing Moblit still fresh in their heart.
Levi put the bouquet of twenty-two golden roses on the frozen ground. “Happy birthday. Twenty-two, huh? You`re turning into an old woman, Ral.” The irony of his words made a slight pang of guilt rise in his chest. The passing of time would never touch her again.
“I have your favorite”- he said, lightly shaking the box containing a small vanilla cake. Sugar was a rarity, but getting a cake was an unspoken rule in his squad. Their lives were too short to worry about the money. The first thing Levi noticed about Petra was the faint flower smell emanating from her. The first thing after setting his eyes on her clean nails, of course. On her first birthday that they celebrated as a squad, Levi gifted Petra a bottle of scented body lotion. And some high-quality cleaning rags, of course. But she did not pay attention to that. She and the rest of the Survey Corps never knew how to appreciate the finer things in life. But Levi did not miss the way her face lit up when he noticed something she enjoyed.
“I could never understand your sweet tooth, but today, I`m going to have a slice of cake.” Levi always refrained from indulging in this vice. Having grown unaccustomed to sugar, the idea of sweetness was unappealing to him. He always felt bad for disappointing her each year when she sat in front of him, with a small piece of cake she had cut for him. “Or two slices. Two is more appropriate anyway. If I get cavities, it`s on your ass.”
The ground was too cold for him to sit down on, and Levi made a mental note to build a small bench close to her headstone. He opened the box and eyed the cake wearily, considering if he should change his mind. He took a small bite of the cake, and he almost choked on it. “Oi, this is so damn sweet. How the fuck could you eat so much of it?” But it did not stop him from finishing his slice.
Levi expected to find some flowers lying in the snow or at least some tracks leading up to her grave.
“Does your old man still come around? I`ve never crossed paths with him since the expedition.” Sometimes, when he closed his eyes at night, he could still recall Mr. Ral`s pained expression when he realized there was no one left for him to wait for.
“Maybe it`s for the best. I bet he doesn`t want to see me again.” To see the face of the man who was supposed to protect his daughter. The face of the man his daughter wanted to devote her life to. The man who could not even bring him a body home to bury.
“I`m a shit. Ruining your birthday with talk like this.” Levi was never good at this. In his spot, Eld would have teased Petra about her first expedition. Tell her how now that she was a big girl, she ought to refrain from soiling herself again. Petra would turn red from embarrassment and elbow Eld in the ribs. Gunther would point out that despite their age, they are still children. And proceed with teasing Petra himself. Oluo would try to defend Petra`s honor to gain her attention, which would make him the target instead. Levi gave a small smile at the thoughts. He missed them dearly, more than he would ever care to admit.
Levi crouched down and cleared the layer of snow covering her headstone. He ran his finger alongside the letters of her name, wishing he would have had more opportunities to write it down.
“Happy birthday again, brat.”
The last time he visited her, Levi had company. Gabi and Falco did not give it another thought before offering to help him see her again before they would all leave for a new life. A better life, he hoped. But without her by his side, it was never going to be perfect. Gabi set down the flowers before they gave him privacy. While they never asked him about who she was, they knew Levi must have cared for her a great deal.
"Hi, brat. It`s been a while."
He had so much to say to her, and yet, he did not know where to start. A part of him expected to join her during the last battle, but fate always had something new in store for him. Levi was uncertain if it was luck by his side or a curse to watch everyone he ever cared about die. But life was looking brighter, and Levi promised himself he would never lose anyone again.
"Are Hange and Erwin with you now? How about the guys?" He wished for nothing more than to be there by their side. But Levi knew they would never forgive him if he did not try to live the remainder of his life to the fullest. And for them, he would try.
"Does Oluo still bite his tongue? Did he try to flirt with you again? Is Eld still teasing you? Does Gunther still treat you as a little sister?" Levi chuckled at the memory of their antics. He learned the hard way that he never appreciated them enough before he lost them.
"I hope there is an afterlife. I hope it`s peaceful. You all deserve it. Such a shitty end..." He closed his eyes and sighed at the words coming out of his mouth. "I`m sorry, I didn`t mean it. But you already knew that. I was always an open book to you."
Levi felt guilty for leaving the home they bled for behind, but if he were truthful, it had not felt like home to him for years. With no one left by his side, nothing was keeping him in Paradise anymore. While neither of them voiced it out, he had dreamed of a future with Petra by his side. And for her, he would try to live a long and happy life. Before he got to be with her.
"I`m sorry... for the future I never got to offer you. The one you deserved. I`m sorry for the house I never got to build for us, for the vows we never got to take, for the brats that will never play in my backyard." Levi knew Petra would encourage him to find love, but he never would again. He could never imagine a future by someone else`s side.
Levi glanced back at her grave for one last time before he set out for the remainder of his life- "I`ll see you soon. Wait for me."
ao3
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The Lost Boys: Take-Out Intrigue Part 1
Part One | Part Two
Marko x Reader
Word Count: 2,400
Warnings: racial slurs, some gore
Summary: You catch Marko’s eye while he’s waiting on an order. (Since my blatant favoritism towards Dwayne was called out, I’m trying something new!)
“Nin hao ma,” Marko called out as he entered the small restaurant.
The familiar scents of garlic, rice vinegar, and sesame oil wafted out from the kitchen in the back. Marko personally preferred the take-out joint down the block but it was David’s night to choose so he didn’t complain. Much.
The older woman at the counter bowed her head slightly with a smile. He wasn’t a regular but he was there enough that she recognized him. “Hao, hao.”
Mandarin was fluent but these owners spoke Cantonese which he wasn’t as familiar with. He supposed he could take time to learn but he’d been occupied with spray painting and the birds for the past few years. That didn’t leave much time, or desire, to pick up something else. Pleasantries out of the way, he switched back to English. His
“Let me get three orders of the sweet and sour pork, one sweet and sour shrimp, four chow mein, one lo mein, and one fried rice.” After a second of thought he added, “Oh, and some egg rolls.”
The owner wrote it all down quickly and waved the paper slip in between her fingers. “Wait here.”
She disappeared to the kitchen, leaving Marko by himself to admire the scrolls of art that hung on the wall.
In the back, she calmly walked over to where you were hunched over an open textbook, frantically taking notes. It was noisy in the kitchen so you didn’t notice her until she cuffed you on the back of the head.
“Oww!”
“Time to work. Keep an eye on the customer out front,” she nagged in Cantonese.
“Fine, fine. I’m going.” You held your hands up in surrender. But you snagged you stuff when she wasn’t looking and hoofed it to the register before she could chastise you again.
You stood at the register and it was impossible to miss the customer. He had a riotous mass of blonde curls pulled back into a ponytail and wore a patched-up jacket that was simultaneously too busy to look at and too interesting to look away from. He must have felt your gaze because he suddenly shifted his focus from the calligraphy on the walls and stared you straight in the eye.
You held your breath and after a few seconds, his face relaxed and he smiled at you. The smile only added to his attractiveness but you instinctively knew that he wasn’t as sweet as it would lead you to believe.
“You’re new,” he commented.
“Y-yeah. I mean, no,” you sputtered. That was embarrassing. You’d never struggled to speak with a customer before. The fact that he stared without blinking made it worse.
He merely hid his smile behind the fingerless gloves and stuck a thumb in his mouth. A possible oral fixation—? You stopped that thought dead in it’s tracks. It was highly inappropriate to think of a paying customer that way. His actions were none of your business.
You cleared your throat in an attempt to start over. “Actually, my family has known the owners forever. But yes, I’ve only been working here for a few months.”
“I don’t remember seeing you,” he said crowding you despite the fact that there was a register between the two of you. “What’s your name?”
You weren’t sure why, but you felt the need to defend yourself to him. Which was ridiculous. You talked with chatty customers all the time, no problem.
“My name is Y/N. I always take the busy shifts since my English is better. This is the first time I’ve stayed later than the dinner rush.”
That answer must’ve settled something for him because he took at thumb out of his mouth and gave you the first genuine smile you’d seen thus far. In turn, you smiled back and the mood in the room calmed.
His attention went back to the calligraphy and you opened your textbook to the spot you left off at. Everything was quiet. “So…you like calligraphy?” he questioned.
The next fifteen minutes passed quickly as he got you talking about the restaurant’s décor. He was especially absorbed by the painting of a fiery-scaled eastern dragon, which you also liked. But your favorite was the Chinese phoenix on the opposite wall.
“Did you know the fenghuang is a lucky omen? They’re the bird of all birds in traditional mythology.”
That seemed to intrigue him. “The bird of all birds, huh?”
You latched on to the tone in his voice. “Do you like birds?”
He toed the tip of his worn boot into the linoleum floor. Laughed a little. “Yeah. You could say that.”
He opened his mouth to say more but at that moment you were called to bag up his order. A little reluctant, you excused yourself and went to kitchen. The food was already portioned into their respective white cartons, the top flaps folded in neatly.
Opening up the plastic bag, you quickly arranged the cartons inside and tied a with a small, snug knot at the top. Stapling the receipt to the bag, you drew a smiley face on it with a blue-ink pen. The smile came out a little lopsided but you left it alone, afraid it might turn out worse if you tried to fix it.
You lingered near the door, twisting the plastic in your hands. For some reason, you would be disappointed to see him leave. Which was crazy as you’d only talked for a few brief minutes. Judging by the size of the order, the poor guy probably needed to leave so he could bring other people their dinner too.
Resigned, and uncomfortable with that feeling, you went back out to the register. You made sure to use your most polite voice as you rang him up. The exchange happened normally and he dug a wad of dollars bills from his back pocket. It made you cringe to see the money so wrinkled and spotted with an unknown stain, but you kept your reaction to yourself.
“Have a nice night,” you wished him as you tried to hand him his change.
He waved it off with a shake of his head that sent his curls bouncing. “Nah, keep it.”
And that was it. He turned to leave, swinging the plastic bag at his side with every step. There was no hesitation on his part and you sighed. Clearly, your interest was one-sided.
Logically, you knew shouldn’t take it personal, but emotionally, you couldn’t shake the feeling of rejection. Remembering that you were in the middle of reading, you went to open your notes again. You flipped through the pages slowly, your heart not in it.
Outside of the small restaurant, the red neon open sign casted hazy lighting on the cracked cement sidewalk. Marko hovered just far enough from the door that you couldn’t see him. He snickered.
Your disappointed sighs had followed him as soon as he turned his back on you to leave and he had to be honest—it delighted him. Good to know that you were attracted to him. He certainly liked you.
Santa Carla was full of interesting people, alive, undead, or otherwise, so it was hard to catch his attention. But as soon as you started spouting off about mythical Chinese phoenixes, he was hooked. Yes, he was into birds, screw you, but he’d never heard that story before.
He supposed you could’ve been talking out of your ass but he didn’t get that vibe from what he had seen. Your eyes lit up when you talked about the image so he bet that you truly did admire it. Your voice was steady for the first time in the encounter, meaning that you were comfortable saying those things, had probably told them to other ears dozens of times.
So, yes, you could be making it up. If you were, he’d be the first to admire your skills. But you seemed too straight and narrow for that. After all, you were actually studying at work. What kind of person did that?
The tantalizing combination of authenticity and passion for your Eastern mythology made him want to talk to you again. That way he could pick your brains more and maybe, if he was lucky, make you stutter again. Still, he wasn’t going to walk back in there like a sap. Not after he just left.
“Hey!”
His ears twitched and he finally got a look at the guy he’d been watching stagger down the sidewalk the entire time he’d been outside. He chose not to saying anything figuring the human would keep talking anyway, which he did.
“You get that food from here?” The human pointed to the restaurant with his thumb.
Marko nodded, biting on his thumb.
“These chinks, or japs, or whatever any good?”
Marko’s eyes that had been taking in the guy’s appearance the entire time paused in the bird pin he had on his cap. It was yellow orange. Similar shade to the fenghuang’s wings. He took his thumb out of his mouth, his slick fangs descending to bite into his bottom lip.
The ass hadn’t even noticed, still talking and seemingly some kind of inebriated. Fine by Marko. He liked surprising people.
His clawed hand shot out faster than the human eye could track and plunged into the guy’s chest. A hole was torn clean through. The blood and heart organ felt warm and wet as it stuck to his fingers. “I don’t think you need to worry about that you prick.”
The hole was much more pronounced and blood began spilling out. In the light of the moon, the blood looked black instead of red. The about-to-be-dead offender’s jacket absorbed some of the liquid but the rate at which it poured out was too much for the fabric to soak it all up. It wouldn’t be long until he was officially dead.
The shock registered late and by the time the human looked down, Marko had already pulled his hand out and was sucking at the blood. He laughed at the other’s confused expression. The last thing the guy saw was Marko giggling and playfully waving his fingers.
The corpse sagged to the ground and Marko wrenched it up by one of the arms. He must’ve used too much force because he heard the shoulder pop off out of its socket.
He shrugged, not really bothered. No one else was out on the streets at this time. Especially not during a weekday. Getting rid of the body would be easy. Strengthening his hold, he flew into the night sky to dump the body where it would never be found.
When he came back, the white bag of Chinese take-out was sitting exactly where he left it. Excellent. Bending down to rip off the receipt, he pinned his new yellow orange bird pin to it. There was a small speck of blood on the glossed paint near the small bird’s wing that he licked clean.
He didn’t mind scarring you, but he didn’t want you so freaked out that you went to the cops. That would make things a little messy and make David pissy.
Following his nose, he wandered over the car that smelled of you. A quick glance through the driver’s window showed a stack of other notebooks and…a ridiculously bedazzled charm dangling from the rear-view mirror. It made him raise his brow, but he decided he liked it.
Mythological creatures, bedazzled charms…he couldn’t wait to find out more about you.
He arranged the paper backed pin under the windshield wiper to keep it from falling or blowing away. Marko prided himself on giving gifts and he wished he could be there to see you find it, but he’d been gone long enough. The boys were already going to give him hell for it. And he was getting hungry, too.
Besides, he knew where you worked. He’d find you again when he had more time.
Revving the bike, he raced down the road, the plastic bag quivering where it hung from his handle bars.
---XXX---
“See you later, Auntie,” you called out. A bell jingled as you pushed the front door open. You weren’t used to working this late and were long past due for sleep.
“Bye bye, drive home safe,” she said in Cantonese, the gruffness failing to mask her fondness for you.
Being in the restaurant all night, the crisp air outside was a nice reprieve. You loved the food, you really did, but oil could be headache inducing after a while. There was a slight breeze, too, that refreshed you with its invisible caress.
Most of the other businesses in this area were closed by now, leaving the streets dim and vacant. Luckily, there was a streetlight by your car so you didn’t have to walk in the dark. There was no such thing as being too safe in Santa Carla.
You shifted your things so you could get the keys and stopped in your tracks when you noticed a small piece of paper on the windshield. You looked around, not seeing anything else out of the ordinary. Still, you couldn’t shake the wariness.
Was it a ticket? A threat? A piece of trash that just blew into the window?
Creeping forward, you recognized the smiley face you had drawn earlier. What the—? When you were close enough to snatch it, you realized there was something weighing down the corner of the flimsy paper. A pin.
You angled it toward the streetlight, unsure what it was. An orange, no, golden orange bird gleamed in the light. Its wings spread wide and were smooth under the pads of your fingers.
Warmth spread through your chest. There wasn’t a message on the receipt, but the smiley face gave it away. This could only have been from that customer with the curls and jacket. Had he been wearing it inside? You couldn’t remember.
Clutching the pin, you sat in the driver’s seat. The car ran idle for a bit and you fiddled with the back of the pin. There was plenty of space on your bare jacket to place it wherever you wished. With the delicate gift attached securely to the jacket, you backed out of the parking spot, a smile on your face the entire way home.
Hopefully, he stopped by again soon.
_______________
My first time writing for Marko! Thumbs up or thumbs down?
Regardless, East Asian (and any) racism isn’t cool peeps. Let’s do better :)
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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
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Take Me
Fandom: Dragon Age/Modern AU
Pairing: Solavellan
Rating: E
Word Count: 2158
Tags: cunnilingus, some dom/sub play, some body worship, they both have a praise kink
AO3
—
She twists the ring on her finger. The light glints off the large square sapphire lined with tiny diamonds. Glancing around her before she enters the hotel bar, she yanks her ring off and deposits it in the front pocket of her purse. She tosses her flaming curls over her shoulder and smoothes her white blouse, undoing an extra button before throwing open the lounge door. She slips in unnoticed. Wanders over to the soft light of the bar, sticking to the shadowed end farthest from the restroom. As she waits for the bartender to make her way over, she checks her makeup in her compact. She touches up her deep burgundy lipstick, snaps her compact closed, then smiles up at the bartender.
“I’ll have a whiskey, neat.”
The bartender smiles that fake smile of every worker who’s had enough, does. “Coming right up.”
“Thank you,” she says.
Swiveling in her stool, she folds one leg over the other and surveys the room. Her eyes fall on the man playing piano. He’s seemingly lost in the enchanting melody coming off his fingertips. His tall frame sways with the tune and she watches, mesmerized. He finishes the piece and she gives a small clap. Catching her gaze as he stands, he grants her an alluring smile before coming her way.
“That was beautiful,” she tells him.
“Surely not as beautiful as you.”
Her cheeks feel warm. “You flatter me.”
“I am merely stating the truth.”
“Merely?”
“Declaring it then.”
She smirks. Her heart is already thrumming wildly. He’s good. She’ll give him some credit for that. “I’m Sarya,” she offers her hand.
He takes it, suavely planting a kiss on her knuckles.
“Solas.”
She shivers under his silky intonation and his undivided attention. Then he drops her hand and she curls her manicured fingers around her glass. Sarya takes a sip from her drink as the bartender returns. There’s a part of her that wishes she’d asked for something chilled.
“I will have the same as her,” he says.
Sarya adds, “put it on my tab.”
“Sure thing,” the bartender throws her a wink and a dazzling smile.
Sarya runs a finger round the rim of her glass. Leans in towards Solas as he does the same, knees bumping into one another.
“I do not believe I have seen you here before.”
She’s trying not to think about his knee against hers or the way his lips are so close. But he’s gorgeous in that nonchalant way. The more you stare, the more his attractiveness reveals itself. The smallest dimple in his chin. The faint freckles scattered across his face and the mysterious scar above his brow that only appears when the light hits it just so. The angle of his jaw and perfect pillowy lips. Even his baldness suits him, juxtaposed with all his angles.
“What if I told you I was a regular?”
“Then you must not frequent at this hour.”
“Why do you say that?”
His hand comes to rest on her knee as he leans even closer. Whispers in her ear. “I would have noticed long before tonight.”
“Well, I–“ She clears her throat, downs her shot. At least now she can blame the burn on the alcohol and not his touch.
“Are you staying here?” he asks.
The bartender sets his glass down before him. Refills Sarya’s glass. “Thank you.” There’s a nod before the bartender takes off for a man waving her down at the other end.
“I am,” Sarya says. “I’m here on business.” She can’t stop staring into his eyes. The way he listens when she speaks. The way he makes her feel wanted. “Would you like to accompany me to my room?”
“Yes,” he says and she finishes her drink. “Room 501. Meet me in ten.” She slides her extra keycard over to him. Then she leaves more than enough cash for their drinks and a tip and sashays out of the room.
—
There’s a knock and the door opens.
“I see you found the room easy enough.” Sarya doesn’t bother to tie her silken robes, allowing him to drink in the sight of her. She wears a matching set of soft pink lace which reveals more than enough. He wants her naked already anyway.
“I did.” The door closes with a hushed click behind him.
He doesn’t hesitate at the door. He has no shame, no shyness, only cool confidence. She takes one, then two steps forward. Meets him in the middle of the room and hooks her fingers around his tie, thumb skimming along silk as she gives a tug. He doesn’t stumble. He’s all too familiar with following the lead. He’s maybe an inch away from her lips, his breath laced with alcohol.
“Perhaps I should wait until we’re both sober.”
She releases the tie. One step backward.
“No. I know what I’m doing. So long as you consent and still want the same thing?”
“Yes. Yes I want this. Though I should be honest…”
His expression remains unchanged. Patient.
“I’m a married woman.”
“And for me to judge you would make me a hypocrite.”
He closes the distance between them once again.
“I see,” she whispers.
“What do you require of me–Sarya?”
“For you to touch me. To adore me. To–“ She doesn’t get the chance to finish her words. His lips are on hers and his hands are greedy, grasping for every inch of exposed skin.
She shimmies out of her robe then her fingers work at his tie. They’re a mess of frenzied kisses and erratic breaths as she tries to yank off his shirt. But it gets a little stuck and they both chuckle as he has to do it for her.
“It’s always a seamless transition to being naked in the movies. Sadly I’ve never mastered the same flawlessness.”
“It’s movie magic,” he tells her.
Then he pushes the robe off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.
His eyes roam over her body. And she almost covers her stomach where it sags and the stretch marks branch out in white lines. It’s good that she doesn’t or he’d have to yank her hands away. He wants to be gentle. She blushes under his gaze. So pretty and so pink. But Solas doesn’t look at her like those lines are some kind of failing on her part. No, they are a part of her beauty and what defines her as well, her. Instead, he kneels before her and kisses just below her breasts and all across her stomach. His hands slide up her back, fingers feeling for her bra clasp. The pressure of the elastic releases and her breasts spill from the bottom before his fingers rake down her arms and remove the damned thing altogether.
His hand cups one of them and he takes a singular nipple between his teeth. A nibble, a lick and he draws one into his mouth then lets it fall out, admiring the small bounce before stilling against her chest. Both her nipples are hard now, though he’s only tasted the one.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs as his gaze flicks back to her face. Then he takes the neglected breast in hand, lavishing it with just as much attention. Making sure to show no favoritism.
“What does that mean?” she asks. “When you say that?”
He stops what he’s doing to take her chin in hand. Searches those ocean blue eyes of her. “It means I am in awe of you. I could get lost in the visual worship of you–that your image is burned into my memory and whenever I am hopeless, I can remember that you exist and I had the privilege of dwelling within your existence.”
“Well–fuck.” Her hands cling to his neck and she tugs him forcefully to her lips.
He pushes away. Licks his lips. “Sarya?”
“Hmm?”
“May I have the pleasure of tasting you?”
“You can have the pleasure of doing whatever the fuck you want to me so long as praise keeps falling from your lips.”
He chuckles. Then removes her lace thong. His hand trails down her stomach, down past her curly thatch of hair and his fingers are spreading her folds and—he hesitates. Glances back up to see her swallow. Relishes in her anticipatory gaze. Her eyes look heavy beneath her lashes. Full of such longing and impatience. Then she groans as he dips his chin between her legs and licks in long languid strokes.
“Do you like this or–“ he switches to a circular motion with his tongue, “this?”
“That–definitely that,” she murmurs.
He buries himself in her. Surrounds himself in her scent. Succumbs to her flavor and loses himself to those delightful sounds she’s making. She’s close, he can tell and it’s his cue to slide one finger inside.
“More,” she demands.
Of course he obliges with a second finger. Curls them together and he gasps when she grasps the tip of his ears.
“Faster,” she says. “Gods I’m almost–“ She cuts her own words off with a whimper as he brings her over the precipice. Then tips her over the edge.
He pulls back, wiping her slick from his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he looks up to her as she releases his ears. Kneels down before him and grabs each side of his face, nearly tackling him to the ground, flooding him with kisses and touches.
With his back against the floor, each of her legs straddles him and she’s got one hand wrapped around his cock while the other digs into his shoulder. He slips inside so easily and she rides him with a pace that he’s not sure he can keep up with.
“Sarya–fuck–I’m–“
“Not yet, Solas. Don’t come for me yet. Hold up just a little longer. Can you do that for me?”
“Mmm, yes,” he groans. And he doesn’t think it’s a lie.
She loses herself and he watches. Those orange curls flopping around just above her breasts. Open and arched and exposed for him. And she is everything–everything like this.
“So beautiful,” he finds himself muttering over and over. If he focuses on the words, he can maintain the control she needs.
But then she cups his balls and– “come for me. Come for me now, Solas.”
He is nothing but at the mercy of her command. He lets out a shattering cry and spends himself inside her. The way she clenches and squeezes, sends him spiraling in an overload of sensation.
“Good boy,” she says to him then kisses him again. Hard and soft at the same time. And he wants more of this–more of her.
Eventually she slides off and helps him to his feet, dragging him to bed for another go. And then another.
It’s hours before the lights are turned off and they are tangled together for sleep.
“That was fun,” she says curled up against his chest.
“Yeah? I thought so too. You played your part well.”
“Thanks. So did you.” She pauses.
“Hmm–I sense some critique is coming.”
“Not about you! Mmm no, you–you were wonderful. Especially all those smooth lines. Reminds me that you’d get me in bed every time.” She glances up at him to see his smug smirk and it makes her smile too. “I just–do you think it was believable?”
“I think we may have fooled the bartender.”
“I don’t think the bartender gave a shit about us,” Sarya says with a laugh and Solas kisses her head.
“I think the most unbelievable aspect was that you trusted me so quickly and left me with your keycard minutes after we had supposedly just met.”
“Damn.” She lets out a disappointed huff of breath. “You’re right. Can’t say my greatest skills are in acting. Was probably weird we didn’t go up together too. Oh and we missed some fun opportunities! Like making out in the hallway a little? Or getting handsy in the elevator?” Her fingers trail down his chest.
“I suppose we will simply have to try that out next time.”
“Guess so.” She kisses his chest then. “Mmm. Can I admit something?”
“Of course.”
“I miss our kids.”
He chuckles. “Me too, vhenan. I think that is a good thing.”
“But I also like this. It was so nice to be loud and not be half worried the whole time.”
“I agree.” Solas gently combs his fingers through the curls splayed out on the pillow.
Sarya snuggles in closer, lifting her head to meet his loving gaze. She kisses him deeply. When they finally part, too tired to keep it going, she happily sighs.
“Ar lath ma, vhenan,” Solas says in a sleepy hush.
She lets out a small yawn. “I love you too. So much.”
#solas#Lavellan#solas x sarya lavellan#solarya#dragon age#bear writes#nsft#please mind the tags at the top of the fic
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my only angel
super fluffy harry taking care of you during your period!
tiny mention of mustache!harry and italy!harry towards the end (just the outfit he was wearing in the most recent pictures for reference)
word count: 2,383
@geoffwittek is an angel for being my beta reader and putting up with all my technical problems today haha
tw: blood mention // tw: pills (ibuprofen)
//
It had been a restless night for you.
Harry, like always, had slept peacefully next to you.
Around 6 a.m., you got up to go to the bathroom only to discover the reason for your restless night. The cramps should have been a sign, but if they weren't, the blood on your underwear now confirmed it.
You quickly finished up and ran back to the bed. Thank goodness nothing had leaked through to the sheets or blankets on your side. Not that Harry would be upset, but you would have felt guilty.
Harry stirs slightly, "Y'okay, bub?"
"Yeah, H. I'm fine. Just got too hot and can't fall back asleep. I'm gonna take a shower, okay? I'm alright." He nods and his eyes flutter closed again.
You quickly gather a change of clothes, careful not to make too much noise. Oversized t-shirt, new underwear, comfy shorts, and fuzzy socks. Your go-to comfort outfit.
The hot water fills the small bathroom with steam quickly. At the last minute you decide to light the vanilla candle, knowing it's one of Harry's favorite scents.
Right after you step in and close the curtain, you hear the squeak of the door.
"Baby? You sure you're alright? Oh.." His voice is still somewhat heavy with sleep. You know by the way his voice dropped that he saw the bloody clothes.
"I'm okay, really. I'm sorry I woke you. I'll be out soon." Your voice echoes faintly off the tiles.
"No worries. You need anything? I can run to the 24 hour shop on the corner?"
"No, no I have everything I need. Go back to bed, babe." You poke your head around the curtain and give him a tired smile to reassure him.
"Alright. Just shout if you change your mind or need me."
You take your time, hoping that Harry actually listened to you and laid back down for more rest. Knowing him though, he had already taken the clothes and thrown them in the washing machine for you. He was most likely searching for your heating pad and making sure he had enough ibuprofen on hand for you for the next week. Harry had become a pro at taking care of you when you needed it.
Your suspicions were correct. The clothes were gone and after dressing quickly and running a comb through your hair, you find Harry fiddling with the cords of the heating pad, trying to untangle them.
"Here, plug this in on your side. There's an outlet behind the-"
"Harry, I know where the outlet is, angel. I don't need that right now. The cramps aren't that bad."
The look of sleepy confusion he gives you almost makes you laugh out loud, but you're able to stop yourself so you don't hurt his feelings. He's being so sweet trying to take care of you.
"I'll leave it on my side just in case I need it, alright?" You take it from him and finally convince him to lay back down.
But your body decides to betray you as you're getting comfortable in bed. A particularly intense cramp hits and you're thankful the light is still off so Harry doesn't see the wave of pain cross your face. Unfortunately, you can't stop the wince that escapes your lips.
"That's it, here," he sits up and grabs the bottle of ibuprofen that you're sure he snuck in the kitchen and grabbed from the medicine cabinet while you were still in the bathroom, "There's no point in trying to be brave. You need this. Take it."
He shakes out two of the small, round orange pills into his hand and extends them out to you, "Hold these. I'll go get you some water."
He's up before you can stop him. His feet shuffle across the carpet and he makes it to the doorway, "Harry, no.." emotion hits you out of nowhere and you feel hot tears starting to form. You feel so ashamed and embarrassed for letting yourself get so overwhelmed so quickly.
He's back to your side in a second, "I didn't mean to upset you I just..if you won't use the heating pad and you won't take something for pain..how am I supposed to help you through this, honey?"
You know if you can just get comfortable enough to fall asleep for a while, things will be better.
You both sit in awkward silence for what seems like ages, just the sound of your soft sobs and the feel of his warm hands soothing up and down your arm, trying to console you. Finally, he breaks the silence, "Tell me what y'need, love. I'll do anything to help."
"Want you," it seems so childish, and you know you'll hate yourself later for being so needy, "Just want you to hold me, H."
"Alright, I can do that. But you gotta let me do my job and take care of you first, deal? Two of these and some water and I'm all yours."
You nod an agreement and Harry squeezes your shoulder before disappearing to the kitchen and coming back with a glass of water, "Here, the bottle says you can have 2."
The pills go down easily and your reward is a "good girl" praise from Harry.
A shiver rolls over your body, "You cold, lovie? You want an extra blanket or a hoodie?"
"Hoodie. One of yours?" You hate the neediness in your voice but all you want right now is comfort so you let the wants and needs overtake your guilt. You could hate yourself for it later.
"Of course, bub. Be right back," You shiver again but he's only gone for a second before he's back, "C'mon, arms up. There ya go. Comfy?"
You nod again. Exhaustion is starting to set in. Warm arms wrap around you and you fall into them, the two of you adjusting until you're settled back down.
The arms tighten their grip slightly. Just enough to pull you closer. He moves one hand to cradle behind your head, in your hair. The other arm draped over you with his hand firmly on the small of your back. The tips of his fingers softly move over your scalp and through your hair and you're grateful for the touch. It's another want you were too tired to express.
He kisses your forehead and mumbles a sleepy "love you" in your ear before you both drift off.
//
When you wake a few hours later, there's an emptiness to the bed. You're still surrounded by warmth, but you quickly realize it’s not Harry.
Pillows. He had replaced himself with pillows. One under your side and one pressed firmly against your back. As if they could ever be a replacement for his softness.
Faint noise can be heard in another part of the space you share. After a quick trip to the bathroom, you discover the noise coming from the kitchen.
Harry stands over the stove, his back is to you but you can tell he's stirring something, "Harry?"
"Hey! There's my sleepy girl," He crosses the kitchen in a few steps to meet you, "I was hoping you would sleep a little longer so I could surprise you with lunch."
He envelopes you in an embrace so deep you fight not to cry again. You've never had someone love you as much as he loves you. Any touch from him reassures you and reminds you of that. It had been a source of frustration for him in the beginning of your relationship, getting you to accept and learn that you deserve the love he continuously showered you with. You still had days where it was hard, today was one of them.
You hide your face in his chest and just let him hold you. He kisses the top of your head and then loops one of his long fingers under your chin, pulling your gaze back up to his, "How's your tummy feel? Any better?"
His hand rests on your hip and rubs small circles on your side. You notice the absence of rings and fingernail polish today. It feels so strange and foreign but it only means he feels comfortable enough with you to leave them plain and untouched.
"Better."
"Good. You hungry? I attempted to make mac and cheese for you. The white cheddar kind you love so much."
You don't have the heart to tell him no, he's so proud of himself, "Yeah. Sounds good."
//
After lunch, you both sprawl out on the couch in front of the tv, Harry flipping through the channels until he lands on one of those cheesy romance movies he knows you're secretly obsessed with.
He sits opposite you, your head propped up on throw pillows, your feet stretched out into his lap. His hand smooths up and down your leg, eyes still focused on the tv. He won't admit it, but he gets just as sucked into these movies as you do. You don't even think he realizes what his hands are doing, it's just second nature at this point for him to be touching you in some way.
When the movie takes a sad turn, you find yourself wiping your eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie you're still wrapped in.
"Angel." His voice is soft, almost a whisper, but it's loud enough to make your head turn towards him to see he's gesturing for you to join him on his side of the couch. You shift around, head falling into his lap, his fingers running through your hair.
Normally he would tease you about getting so emotional over these movies, an elbow nudged playfully into your side until you look at him and both fall into a fit of giggles about how silly it was. He doesn't do that now, just watches you for a minute, thumb swiping away tears, "What part made you so sad, baby?"
"She lost her husband. He was just gone and I..I know you're not my husband but, you're mine and I couldn't imagine losing you like that." The tears are free flowing now, the thought a vivid image in your mind because of the scene that just played.
"Oh, lovie. You're not gonna lose me. Not anytime soon, anyway. And definitely not like what happened in the movie. Was a little ridiculous how he just.."
You cut him off with a kiss, sitting up to press your lips tenderly into his. He leans into it, a hand slipping behind your neck to gently push you into a more upright position in his lap, pressing slightly firmer before pulling away, "What was that for?"
"Just a thank you for taking such good care of me, being so good to me. The clothes and the food..this."
"You're welcome, this is my favorite part. Seeing you all soft and emotional. I don't always get to see that side of you, you hide it so well. Clothes are fine, by the way, I pulled them out of the dryer earlier. I put them away for you."
He chuckles, "Was so anxious I might wake you up with that squeaky drawer of yours. You looked so sweet, face smushed against my pillow."
"Oh no, H. I was probably snoring! I don't know how you stand to sleep with me." You bury your face in your hands so he doesn't see the deep shade of crimson spreading across your face.
"Hey, none of that now." He pulls one hand away from your face, bringing it down to settle on his chest, "But yes, you were. It was incredibly adorable."
He kisses your forehead, pausing there for a moment longer than he ordinarily would.
"Hmm, that feels nice. Do that again, made my head feel better."
"Yeah? Your head aching, darling?" Warm fingers move across your face, his thumb landing on a spot right between your eyebrows, "Here?"
You nod, leaning in to his touch, a contented sigh slipping from your mouth.
"Was thinking about what we should do for dinner, if you feel up to going out."
"Mhmm, what were you thinking?" You're still floating, absorbing every bit of his touch.
"Thought we could try that new Italian place up the street, the one that just opened across from the bakery with those cookies you love so much. We could go there after. Or we could get dessert from the restaurant..they had a nice selection. I looked at the menu online while you were distracted by the movie. We could also get it as takeaway or have it delivered if you'd rather. It's up to you."
"Let's go there. Wanna see you all dressed up." You open your eyes, hands drifting to his jaw, then up to cradle his cheeks. Thumbs smoothing over the mustache covering his upper lip.
"Yeah? Like it when I get all pretty for you, huh?" A smug smile brightens his whole face.
"Mhmm." Your teeth sweep your bottom lip into your mouth, unable to stop the smile that flashes across your own face.
"Alright then, love. You're the boss. Be ready in 30, yeah?"
//
30 minutes turned into 45 and he impatiently watches you, leaning against the frame of the bathroom door. He's selected a simple black, short sleeve button down shirt. He’s left a few buttons undone, pairing it with bright linen pants. A silver cross necklace shines against his tan skin.
"Just a second, can't get this curl to cooperate." You twist it in your fingers, trying to make it settle in with the others framing your face.
You're considering turning the curling iron back on to run through it again, when he lifts himself from the door frame and slowly steps behind you, eyes never straying from your reflection in the mirror. They sweep over you, taking in every inch of your curves, the soft flowy fabric of your dress hugging all the right features. One hand rests on your hip, while the other brushes your hair back away from your neck. He places a kiss to your exposed shoulder, then up to dip into the curve of your neck.
"Better hurry, baby," his eyes dart up to meet yours in the mirror, "I might not make it to the restaurant before I want dessert."
#harry x reader#harry styles imagine#bf!harry#my writing#pretty proud of this honestly#the end was kind of rushed but..#enjoy!
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The Wind Witch
The Wind Witch by Susan Dexter
Ok, so I just looked it up, and this book is from 1994 and now I feel old.
I love it, and for probably 20 years I’ve considered this one of my absolute favorites. Might be silly, but once I saw the author was releasing the books from this series?? I kept checking back like once per month, hoping that it finally arrived, because they’ve been out of print for ages.
So, anyway, technically this is part 2 of a 3 book series (6 if you count the other 3 book series set in the same world), but it can be read standalone. The previous book - The Prince of Ill Luck - is the story of her grandparents, which is shortly skimmed over at the start.
Druyan had been married to a man much older than, on a farm in god-knows-where, with sheep and grain and the ocean nearby. She had been rather content with life, at least until pirates attacked and her husband got killed. Now she’s desperate; she’s sure her own family wouldn’t want to take her back in, and her husband’s family would marry her off to whoever they want to give the land to. If anyone finds out her husband is dead, that is. A childless widow only has to hold the estate and pay the taxes for a year and a day, then it’s hers. So that’s what she’s gonna do and no one will stop her.
Unfortunately, most of the men have been called into the war against the pirates, so all people left on the farm are her, the housekeeper, three children - and one of the pirates the men had captured before moving out to drive back the attack.
He’s Kellis, from a land across the sea. He’s a mage, he can have visions by looking into reflecting surfaces like water. He did not join the pirates too willingly, as his people had been attacked by them, too. But he had to find a way to leave his home, to sail across the ocean in search of the fabled city of mages.
Druyan strikes a deal with him: Help her hold the farm, work for her for a year and a day, then she’ll give him a horse and provisions to help him on the way. He doesn’t need her help for his travel, but he feels indebted to her because of the attack and agrees.
I don’t want to spoil too much of the story, but it’s half about keeping the farm, half about defeating the pirates, and both of them will be heroes in their own way.
I’m having a hard time putting into words why I love this book so much. They’re both ordinary people, trying to be happy with whatever life throws at them, while being told what to do by just about everyone. And both have extraordinary skills, which are mistrusted by others. I love Druyan for being so resilient, for fighting for what she wants, after all her life everyone has told her that it doesn’t matter what she wants. I love Kellis for being so good and kind, trying to do his best, even if everyone distrusts him.
The story is written from both Druyan’s and Kellis’ point of view, with very few different ones sprinkled in.
Content warnings I would add: Violence (she gets hurt, too), animal death, death of side characters, misogyny, implied sex
[Image description of the cover: It shows the black silhouette of a woman riding a horse, in front of a full moon, over solid black grass. Inside the moon are the silhouettes of four horses in a circle, connected with a dotted line. They look like they are jumping over something. The background is cloudy sky in a gradient from orange at the top to pale blue at the horizon. At the top the cover reads: Book two of the Warhorse of Esdragon in a small, white, sans-serif font. Below is the title The Wind Witch, in large, white letters, and the starting letters T and W are decorated with swirls. At the bottom, inside the black grass, the author’s name is written in white, in a similar font. End ID.]
Tagging: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi (There’s a lot of wool and spinning and weaving in there :p) @dont-touch-my-soup
#salad-books#The Wind Witch#Kellis really puts the emotional into emotional whump doesn't he#Throwback to the time I considered downloading a pdf of the book#to make my own ebook of it because I couldn't stand the thought that something could happen to my copy#I am very glad the ebook has been released now :D#But for those looking for physical whump: Sorry not really
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fanatic // bakugou x male reader
Bakugou Katsuki, pro Hero Ground Zero, meets one of his biggest fans and gets roped into walking him home. He finds out just how big a fan he is.
NOTES: So this was my first xreader fic. I wrote it basically for one of my partners @spacebunnywrites before he was one of my partners. It’s a rough dom Bakugou but there’s some aftercare I promise. Tags: all the holes, rough sex, toys, some embarrassment.
x fem here
x nonbi coming soon
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You’re on your way home from a coffee date with friends when you hear the first explosion. It’s coming from somewhere vaguely to your left, eyes immediately shifting in that direction in time to see some civilians fleeing onto your current street from an alley. Your heart stops in your chest, but not from fear.
It can’t be… you think. He’s never in this district. But you need to check, and your legs are moving toward the gap in the buildings before you’re really thinking about it. Soon you’re running through the narrow passage, pulse quickening as the sound of the blasts grow closer. You’re almost there, you just need to see -
You skid to a stop at the alley mouth, eyes widening as a heated explosion rockets past you followed by a maniacally grinning blonde.
“DIE!!”
Oh my god it’s him! Bakugou Katsuki, pro Hero Ground Zero, in the flesh. Your heart stops again as you watch him sail through the air, so elegant in movement despite his abrasive quirk and even more abrasive personality. Most of your friends fantasized about Midoriya Izuku – Deku – the shy green haired number one hero or Kirishima Eijirou – Red Riot – the sturdy number five hero and Ground Zero’s battle partner. But you? Your heart beats for the wild blonde with the crazy smile who constantly pushes the limits.
The battle was moving down the street. You had to get closer. Where all the sane people were running away from the dueling villains and heroes, you were running closer. This was the first time you had ever seen Ground Zero in person and would likely be the last – he was never in your district and you honestly didn’t know why he was now. That didn’t matter though, he was here, and you’d watch him fight or die trying.
You at least had some sense of self-preservation, ducking behind sturdy objects so that you wouldn’t get hit with some flying shrapnel. You watch in awe as your favorite pro Hero uses his quirk to shoot through the air and slam into one of the villains, giving an appreciative sigh. Fuck, he is so hot.
You’re so focused on watching the explosion hero in action that you don’t another fight right behind you; Red Riot is sparring with a huge, muscular villain. The red-haired hero slams the guy into the wall, but your ears are ringing from being so close to Ground Zero’s detonations that you don’t hear it. Then Ground Zero looks at you. Your eyes lock. Your heart stops. His mouth is moving, making words, and the look on his face goes from sheer confidence to panic.
The world around you starts moving again and you hear ‘Hey, LOOK OUT!’ before something slams into your head and you fall to the ground, the world going dark.
“Is he okay?”
“Fuck if I know, shitty hair, but at least the bleeding stopped.”
You blink as you come to, surroundings hazy and out of focus. Your world is a swirl of greys with splashes of red, black, orange, and yellow. Part of you wonders if it’s sunrise before your vision clears and you’re looking up into the concerned face of Red Riot, and the scowling face of Ground Zero.
Oh fuck.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt? A medic team will be here shortly, and we didn’t want to move you.” The sturdy hero has concern pouring out of his tone, his eyes flicking your face for any sign of pain.
“Are you fucking stupid?” Ground Zero hisses out, his eyes narrowing further than they were before.
“Bakubro, don’t be like that! He’s a civilian, he probably got trapped! He WAS right in between our fights after all!” Red Riot frowns at the blonde who is still glaring daggers at you. “You gotta work on your image man, your publicist is gonna straight up kill you one day.”
“Fuck off, Kiri.”
Your eyes are focused on Ground Zero, frowning at the anger that is radiating from him. You knew he was like this but it’s different when it’s directed at you instead of at villains or the press.
Both heroes look up as an ambulance squeals to a stop nearby, followed by police to apprehend the villains.
Red Riot immediately pops up and waves an arm. “Hey, he’s over here!”
Ground Zero is still staring at you as Kirishima gets the attention of the paramedics. Red Riot returns quickly, flanked by two more people.
“Hey, these healers can take care of you.”
One of the people holds out her hands, scanning over your horizontal body. “There appears to be no major damage, just a shallow gash to the back of the skull. It’s superficial, Nightingale can heal it without the need for stitches.” She steps back and her partner steps up next, placing a hand to the top of your head. You feel like warm water is rushing over your skull and the dull ache of pain recedes.
Red Riot gives you a relieved smile.
“He’s all set.” The medic, Nightingale, steps back and goes with her partner back to the ambulance. You sit up, automatically steadied by Riot’s large hands.
“Careful, uh...”
“(Y/N).” Your voice sounds a little raspier than usual and you wince.
“(Y/N). It’s nice to meet you! I’m Kirishima, and this is Bakugou. Can we escort you home to make sure you make it okay?”
Ground Zero’s eye daggers are now aimed at Red Riot and you hide a smile behind your hand.
“That would be great, actually.” You hope that you look calm on the outside because your heart is hammering WILDLY in your chest. Ground Zero walking you back to your apartment? Your mind races with all the ways that could end, except now he’s back to glaring daggers at you.
“Red Riot!” All three of you look up as a police officer comes over. “We need a report from you.” His eyes flick to Ground Zero, still crouched near your side, and a flash of fear shoots through them. “Ground Zero we don’t need both of you so you’re free to go.”
Ground Zero rolls his eyes and stands, the movement as graceful as a dancer. “Fine, I have shit to do anyway.”
“Yeah, like walking this one home.” Red Riot stared at his friend, Ground Zero glaring back, before the blonde hero tossed his head back with a sigh.
“Fucking FINE. Whatever. Let’s go.”
He yanks you up, ignoring Red Riot’s suggestions to be gentle. You let out a squeal of protest on your own, attempting to pull your arm back out of his gloved hand. He’s strong though, so much stronger than you ever imagined.
“Wait, Ground Zero, Ground Zero STOP!” You yank hard on your arm, stumbling back when he lets you go and whips around to face you.
“What?!”
You huff, scowling back at him. “You’re going the wrong way.”
His eyes narrow. “Well, you didn’t tell me where you fucking live.”
“I didn’t get a chance to! You just dragged me off like some fucking animal!”
“The fuck did you just say?” Ground Zero closes the distance between you two, his crimson eyes glaring into your (e/c) ones.
“I said… you dragged me off like some kind of animal.” He may be the object of all of your carnal lusts, but you were not about to be rag-dolled through the city. At least, not in this manner. You don’t flinch as he glares at you, feeling a thrill of victory as he emits a growl.
“Fucking… fine. Come on then. Which way...?” His voice is low, and you can hear the annoyance laced through it. You grin and head off in a different direction, looking behind you at the angry blonde planted on the sidewalk.
“Well come on, Red Riot will be pissed if you leave me alone.” You smirk as his scowl deepens. Since he more or less promised your safety to his partner, that left you free to push his buttons. You weren’t very happy about being yanked like that, but fuck you loved the aggression that the blonde exuded. Every scowl and squint were sending chills down your spine and you wanted to see if you could get him yelling at you before you got back to your apartment. Fuck, that would give you something to get off to for months.
“Fine.” You hear the stomping of boots following you and you can’t help the smirk pulling at your lips. This was fun. Your heart was still pounding in your chest being so close to him, talking to him, teasing him, but you liked to think that you were holding your own.
You annoyed him with chatter and banter for the whole ten-minute walk to your small apartment, easily swapping between teasing him (there’s a hole in your uniform Ground Zero, are you getting slow?) and yammering about anything and everything happening around you. Ground Zero might think it was nerves, and he wouldn’t be entirely wrong. Your nerves were firing off like sparklers, bright and heated, but it was mostly the thrill of watching the storm cloud that darkened your favorite hero’s face as you walk.
You’re twirling as you go down the sidewalk, generally making a nuisance of yourself just to annoy him further, when suddenly you’re overcome with a dizzy spell. You stop twirling and put a hand to your head, the world spinning around you as you start to fall. You hear loud boot stomps and then strong arms are wrapping around you, catching you before you hit the ground.
“Fuck, do you have no sense of self-preservation? Why would you do shit like that after you just had a head injury?” Ground Zero has you fixed with that familiar angry scowl and you smiled up at him. You feel almost drunk as you reach out and ‘boop’ the hero’s nose.
He snarls. “Which fucking apartment building is yours, you shitty fuck?” Your arm flops toward your building and he grumbles as he takes off to it, carrying you bridal-style in his arms.
Your head is lolling back and he’s cursing under his breath. “Fuck. Which apartment? Where are your keys?” Your hand slips into your pocket and lazily fishes out your keys, promptly dropping them on the ground. Ground Zero curses again and crouches easily to pick them up. Your fuzzy brain has it together enough to be impressed that he’s able to squat and snatch your keys from the pavement like you weigh nothing. So strong. Swoon.
Ground Zero carries you effortlessly up the stairs to the third floor. Luckily your apartment number is on a tag on your key, so it takes him no time to find it. You aren’t really paying attention as he unlocks your door and swings it open, stepping into your home. You feel him pause, his eyes sweeping the area. You live alone and your home is small, but it’s cozy and you love it.
He spots a mass of pillows by the window in the main room and decides that is the best place to lay you. You squirm on the pile of squishy pillows and trying to make yourself comfortable; all the while Ground Zero watches you with a scowl. He knows for a damn fact that if he leaves you before you’re coherent that Kirishima will have his hide, so he’s trapped here until you wake up. Great.
He might as well try to find your bathroom and some medication, you’re bound to have a headache when you wake up fully. There’s only one door off the space you’re both currently in, so without hesitation he crosses to it and moves to open it. You open one eye in time to see Ground Zero’s hand wrap around the knob to your bedroom and you squeak out a weak protest, but the door opens. He stands in the doorway, frozen.
“...What the fuck is this.”
Shit. Now you were in for it. You try to pull yourself up, fighting the dizziness in an attempt to defuse the situation. You knew exactly what he was looking at. Your bedroom was absolutely covered in Ground Zero merch, both official and unofficial. You rise and shakily make your way to him. “Ground Zero, ah, don’t…”
He whirls on you, eyes narrowed. “You weren’t trapped between our fights. You came specifically to watch me.” It’s not a question and your cheeks color as you nod.
He inhales and turns from you, stepping into your bedroom and looking around at the amount of stuff. Posters, figurines, plush pillows that look like his grenade gauntlets. His eyes sweep your bed and pause at the elongated shape hidden under the blankets. Without asking for permission he rips back the black and orange comforter and you gasp as he reveals a body pillow of himself.
“Are you fucking kidding me, (Y/N)?” Luckily it’s on the tame side and not the lewd side.
Then Ground Zero flips the pillow over. He looks at you with raised eyebrows. Your face floods with heat and you turn you turn away from him; missing the cocky smirk that graces his lips for a split second.
“If you have this so brazenly in your bed, what the fuck else are you hiding in here?”
You eke out another protest as he prowls around to the other side of your bed, zeroing in on a pair of doors. He opens the first, but it’s your small bathroom. The blonde hero shoots you a look and closes it, then grins as he opens the other one.
“People always hide weird shit in their closets…” He rips the door open and instead of a quick look like he did in the bathroom, he begins pulling your hanging clothes to the side, checking the floor, sweeping his hands on the shelf. He finds the thing you’re dreading quickly – a small box shoved in the corner of your highest shelf. “Hmm. Looks suspicious.”
He pops it open with a smirk that quickly vanishes, and you want to sink into the floor and die. You know exactly what’s in the box, and there’s a reason it’s hidden where it is.
Ground Zero holds up the bondage harness as you watch, mortified, his eyes sweeping the black and orange straps. "Is this... is this official merch? I'm going to kill my entire marketing team."
"No. I, um..." You swallow, averting your eyes as your cheeks flush. "I made it."
Ground Zero stares at you for a second, then a grin slowly curls up the corner of his mouth. "Yeah? You made it?"
You nod. "There's, um. There’re matching arm binders that look like your gauntlets. And leg binders that look like your boots." You risk raising your eyes to look at him and you feel the breath knocked out of you at the hungry, feral look in his eyes.
"Put it on then.” His grin widens as he throws the harness at you.
You catch it, acting more out of reflex than anything. “What?!”
“If you're so desperate for my cock. Fucking earn it."
He casually fishes out the arm and leg restraints, looking them over the way he looked at the harness. “You fucking heard me. If you want it, you have to work for it.” Crimson eyes flick to you. “Especially after the way you fucking teased me the whole walk here.”
Teased him? I mean yeah, you were a little sassy, but… your eyes widen in understanding. He likes the sass. That made you look at all his glares and glances in a new light, and… Your eyes flick to the heat in them now. Fuck were you in for it, and fuck were you all about it.
“I’m not going to say it again. Put. It. On.”
His voice is like steel and you drop the harness on your bed, hands going to your shirt. Fuck, was this really happening? Were you really going to do this? You hesitate as you toy with the hem of your shirt and Ground Zero uncrosses his arms, cupping his palms, and lets off a few warning sparks. Your heart leaps into your throat and you yank the shirt over your head, throwing it nearly across your room before yanking off your pants and kicking them after the shirt.
You look at Ground Zero as you stand in your underwear, and he motions to the small garments. Your face heats up as you slowly slide those off too. At his raised brow you pick up the harness, carefully stepping into it.
“I uh, I can’t put this on by myself. It’s why I’ve never worn it before.” Your face flushes, the harness straps hanging from your frame. Ground Zero shifts his weight, moving like a cat stalking prey. He slowly walks around you, reaching out for the straps, and pulling them tightly into place.
“So, I’m the only one to see you like this, hah?” His voice is low and rumbling, hot like raked coals.
You shudder and nod.
He pulls the strap he’s tying tighter and leans into your ear. “Good. It had better fucking stay that way.” The words spike directly to your core and you groan, immediately moving to slap a hand over your mouth. He just chuckles darkly and finishes tightening the straps, and you look down on yourself. The harness is very nice, if you do say so yourself. You can’t help but feel a little proud of your handiwork.
Then you notice Ground Zero holding the arm and leg binders and grinning.
You immediately start to shake your head, but he just grins wider. “Ah ah, you made them, you must be dying to try them out.”
You’re only semi-surprised at the skill and nimbleness that he displays locking you into the binders, and you wonder if this is something he does regularly. Your arms are twisted behind your back and locked into place, and Ground Zero guides you down to the floor so he can use the leg binders to keep you in a kneeling position. It’s a good thing he has those huge knee pads on his hero outfit – they provide an excellent cushion from your hardwood floor. You’re glad you included them.
“There. And now that you’re all nice and tied up…” He walks to the front of you as he removes his gloves and reaches down, a calloused thumb teasing at your lower lip. You immediately open your mouth and he gives an approving rumble deep in his throat, using the pad of his thumb to stroke your eager tongue.
You roll your eyes back in your head at the flavor – he tastes like rich caramel. The scent rises off him now that his hands are so close to your face. You’re vaguely aware that it has something to do with his quirk, and that the nitroglycerin he sweats can be toxic, but you’re way too into him being in your mouth to care. He grasps your chin with his fingertips, holding your jaw in place from the inside. You give a small whine, closing your lips to suck on his thumb.
“Greedy little slut, aren’t you?” He pulls the thumb out and wipes your saliva on your cheek. “You know, that body pillow you got there? It’s fucking wrong.” He smirks a little, hooking the thumb that was in your mouth through a belt loop. “I bet you want to see the real thing, don’t you? You’re dying for it. I can see it in your eyes.” You whimper and nod, your eyes immediately going to the crotch of his pants. “Well too bad. I’m not done looking through your shit.”
You let out a much louder whine as he turns away from you.
“Let’s see now. I’ve already checked the closet, how about… in here?” He moves to your nightstand and yanks open a drawer, but all that’s in it are a few odds and ends. He gives you a scowl and slams it closed before pulling open the second one. That one yields much more fruitful results, and you feel like your face can’t get any hotter as Ground Zero lifts out a ball gag colored like a grenade, and a blindfold in the shape of his mask. He gives you a very direct look before carefully laying the items on your bed, then dives back in. Next, he comes out with a thin paddle made of wood with a slab of rubber on it, the rubber looking like a boot imprint.
“What the fuck is this?” He squints at the tread, then lifts his own boot and looks at it. “Is this my fucking boot print? How the fuck did you even get this?”
“Someone… after a fight in your district, someone made a casting of your boot print in the dirt. I uh, I bought it and cast the rubber to make a spanking paddle… with your boot tread on it.” You swallow a little. “I’m glad to know it’s authentic.” You give a tiny, nervous chuckle.
He stares at you for a second and then drops the paddle on the bed.
“You filthy fucking bitch. You just want me to walk all over you.” There’s definitely a vein of arousal in his voice, and when he turns you can see that the crotch of his pants is tighter than it was when he was standing in front of you. He shifts through the rest of the drawer, casually putting a bottle of lube on top of the night stand.
Without a word he gets on his knees and looks under your bed, pulling out another box. You’re so far beyond embarrassed at this point. The delicate lace of arousal in his words, the strain against his pants, you’re going to get fucked stupid by the hero you idolize. You wish desperately that your leg binders didn’t keep your thighs spread, robbing you of any friction you might have been able to produce for yourself.
Your breath intakes sharply as Ground Zero returns up from the floor, holding a sizeable black and orange dildo. “Did you fuckin’ make this too?” He’s catching on that all your sex toys are in his trademark black and orange.
You shake your head. “Commission,” you squeak out.
“Ah, you keep my dildo right under your bed, hah? Has to be in easy reach so you can stuff yourself as soon as you need to feel my cock in you?”
Your breath intakes harshly at the words. “Yes.”
He stares at you with hard eyes for a second. “…Fuck.”
He stands, eyes drilling into you as he pulls off his boots. Next go his gauntlets, clattering to the floor, followed by his top, and despite the fact that you’ve seen his naked chest countless times in either battle damaged costumes or professional photo shoots, you’re not prepared for the real thing.
You make a hiccup-y gasp, and his grin goes feral.
“Be a good boy and don’t move.” He closes the distance between you and easily scoops you into his arms, placing you on the bed with your back facing him. He glances at the hardwood floor where you were originally sitting. “Tch. Haven’t even fucking touched you and you’re already making a fucking mess.” He gestures at the floor where a small pool of liquid betrays how turned on you already are. You feel a slight sliver of shame but it’s heavily outweighed by the sheer force of your arousal.
You watch as Ground Zero, now stripped of everything but pants and socks, moves behind you again. Hands reach out and caress your sides, softer than you thought the blonde was capable of. You moan, trying to arch your back in the tight bindings. You hear a chuckle behind you and then clothed hips are grinding into your ass, the feather soft finger tips now grabbing your waist hard enough to leave bruises. You cry out, pushing your ass back into the hips, and are rewarded with a soft groan as the cleft of your ass encompasses the hard dick in Ground Zero’s pants. Your eyes widen – he wasn’t kidding, your body pillow did him no justice.
“The fuck do you think you’re doing? I didn’t say you could have that yet.” He smacks the round globe of your ass with his hand, then releases you.
You pant in need, trying to push your hips back again, desperately trying to feel his length against your body again. He makes his ‘tch’ noise and you bite your lip. You can feel him move behind you, then his arm comes in to view and he’s grabbing the boot paddle. Your breath hitches in your throat as the wooden handle slowly drags backwards across your messy bed. He’s going this slowly on purpose, you know it. He wants you to anticipate what’s coming.
You freeze as you feel the ridged rubber slide sensually across your ass.
“You ever use this before?” Ground Zero is practically purring behind you.
“N-no.” Your breath leaves you in another shaky hiccup.
“Why the fuck not?” The boot tread continues to rub across your flesh as Ground Zero’s voice gets a little angry.
“No one was good enough b-but you.”
The tread stops and you hear a breathy ‘fuck’ behind you before the blonde hero is pulling his arm back and snapping it forward again. The rubber tread of the boot slams into your cheek and you cry out. It didn’t hurt as badly as you expected – maybe it was the thickness of the boot. Either way, it was the perfect opening.
“T-that all you got, Ground Zero?” Your breath is coming out harsh, but you make damn sure that he can hear the antagonistic tone in your voice.
You hear a growl behind you and the boot flies down again, this time you can feel the bite of the tread marks in your ass. You hope it is going to leave an imprint.
“Hah, I t-thought you were strong, Ground Zero.”
You tense as you hear an aggressive snarl and feel a quick movement behind you, followed by the sound of glass shattering. You’re able to glance to your left and see the broken remains of your table lamp on the floor next to the paddle.
You’re a little annoyed, until you hear his quirk spark to life behind you, and your heart stops again.
“You’re such a fuckin’ brat, hah? Just gotta be fucking mouthy? Well if you like my quirk so much, let’s see how you can handle it.”
The sparking sound intensifies, and you’re barely able to hold your breath before Ground Zero’s hand slaps against your cheek. Oh, oh FUCK yes. This is what you want. The sting is enough to bring tears to your eyes and it radiates across your flesh like fire. You can’t hold back your moan, and you lean forward more to present your ass better. He gives you a matching slap on the other side.
“Not so cocky now, are you?” Twin slaps to both sides again. He keeps going, hands still ignited, more and more until you’re sobbing, and he can see the outline of his handprint reddening your ass. “Fucking perfect.” He grins and places one more playful slap, your hips bucking in response.
Ground Zero moves to the front, grabbing your jaw in his hands roughly. “Open your mouth.” You do so without hesitation, and he grabs the ball gag with his free hand. His crimson eyes investigate your mouth for a few beats, and you take the chance to admire how handsome his face is. He is still wearing his mask, and there’s soft grey streaks from his battle on his neck and cheek. Then he leans forward a little and you wonder for a second if he is going to kiss you, but before you can close your mouth, he spits into it and stuffs the ball gag in.
“Good boy,” he purrs, tying the gag around your head. He smirks as he moves behind you again. You’re shivering in anticipation of what he’s going to do next.
The ball gag prevents your loud moan as your ass cheeks are separated and his tongue licks a long strip from your ballsack to your asshole. He doesn’t speak, he just starts to circle his tongue around the rim of your ass, inching the fingers of his right hand closer while keeping your cheeks spread. You fall forward as he hikes your hips up, just able to turn your head to prevent your face from pressing directly into the mattress. Your eyes are rolling in the back of your head as he fucks his tongue in and out of your hole, growling softly at the whimpers you’re making that are muffled by the gag stuffing your mouth. He stops suddenly, mouth and hands disappearing from your skin, and you let out a high-pitched whine at the loss of contact.
Ground Zero laughs and reaches over to the bottle of lube he’d previously placed on your night stand. He positions himself behind you once more, popping open the cap of lube and pulling one of your cheeks to the side. He squirts the lube directly onto your hole, grinning as you shudder at how cold it is. The hand not holding your cheek circles your hole, teasing, not dipping in. It’s not until you push your hips back that he slips his finger inside, eliciting a groan from both of you.
He slowly works you open, watches you swallow his digit eagerly, his erection straining against the pants of his hero costume. You rock your hips back into him, your eagerness clear on your face as you pant around the ball gag. You choke out another muffled moan as he adds a second finger, hips rocking back harder. You need more, you need him to fill you. He lets a third finger slip it, scissoring all three to stretch the tight ring of muscle.
“Mm, yeah. Gotta stretch you open so you can take my cock, right?” You give a high-pitched groan, unable to control yourself as the thought of taking his cock sends you over the edge. You ride through your orgasm on his fingers, eyes squeezed closed, and he stops moving them. “Did you already cum just from the thought of it? Damn, you really are desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” You can hear the ego in his voice, and he removes his fingers. This is it. You’re gonna get to cum on Ground Zero’s dick.
You feel the blunt head prodding at your entrance, but it feels strangely cold. You open your eyes and Ground Zero’s wearing a cocky grin, pants still zipped up, with the head of your dildo breaching you. You pout, or at least you pout as best as you can with your gag in your mouth, and the hero laughs. His grin is almost maniacal as he twists his wrist, watching your ass swallow the black and orange toy. Your pout doesn’t last long because the feeling of being stretched has you groaning again, pushing back against it, trying to take it further. He stops once the toy is bottomed out inside you.
You squirm against it, groaning as it rubs against your walls, watching the explosion hero as he slowly walks back around to the other side of your bed. He reaches down and unbuckles the gag, pulling it from your head. He pulls you up, positioning you so that you’re sitting on the dildo but pushes on your shoulders so that your head bows back down. Not quite all the way to the bed, but level with his dick.
“Stay,” he murmurs, and then reaches for the buckle of his pants. You hover there, eyes locked on the movements of his hands, your mouth already open and salivating. He moves slow, watching your face with an intense hunger. He pulls the pants off, sliding them down his muscular thighs, and kicking them off. His boxer briefs are straining to hold his erection and there is a damp spot where the head is, betraying how much your reactions are affecting him.
He palms his own cock through his underwear, smirking down at you. “Do you think you’ve earned this?” His voice is low, dark. Your nose is filled with the scent of caramel again and you nod. “Are you sure? I’m not.” His fingers slowly wrap around his shaft, pressing the outline out harder through his underwear. “Beg for it.”
“Please, Ground Zero, I need it, I need you, please just fuck me!” you immediately plead. Your body is squirming, and you open your mouth, sticking out your tongue flat and looking up at him. He bites his lip and pulls his underwear down, his cock bobbing just out of reach of your mouth.
“Keep your mouth open.” His voice is a low rumble and he holds his dick by the base, rubbing the head across your tongue and lower lip, smearing his precum on your skin. He doesn’t quite taste like caramel here, not like his hands and not like he smells, but he does taste sweet. You moan softly, enjoying the flavor, fighting all your instincts to not close your mouth and take him in as far as he can go. “Fuck, good boy. Good boy.” He presses his cock in, slowly, until it reaches the back of your throat. “Close your mouth.”
You moan and do as your told, immediately curling your tongue around the shaft and sucking deep. He chokes out a moan and the sound sends a spike of arousal to your core, making you clench around the toy. He gently pumps his hips, sliding in and out for a few strokes. One hand caresses the top of your head and your heart flips at the tender treatment, but then he grins and tangles his hand roughly into your hair, snapping his hips harder. He starts to fuck your face in earnest, using his hand in your hair as an anchor to keep you in place. You start to take quick breaths in between his thrusts, trying to relax your throat so he can fuck into it. You’re rewarded by a loud moan the first time he does, his hips stuttering as he rocks back and forth in your throat. He pulls his cock out of your mouth, rubs your lips with it, and then shoves it right back in.
“Fuck yeah.” His motions are fluid and graceful, he fucks like he battles. He’s gives you no time to swallow as he snaps his hips in and out, your saliva pooling and running down your chin every time he pulls them back. He finally pulls out one last time, holding himself at the base and looking down at your messy face.
Without looking, Ground Zero reaches into the drawer and retrieves a line of small packets. He rips one off the line and looks at it, then rolls his eyes back. “Okay, I know you didn’t make these.” You give him a shaky smile, still covered in your own drool, as he stares at the condom packet’s slogan. ‘BAKU BRAND: Reliable enough for your biggest explosions!’
He shrugs and rips open the condom, moving around to the back again. He rubs a hand over the print he left on your ass before slowly pulling out your dildo and lining himself up to take its place. He lets his hands crackle with his quirk as he slams his hips in, and suddenly you’re stuffed full with Ground Zero’s cock, and it’s like a dream come true. The hero immediately starts a brutal pace, shoving your face forward into the mattress with every thrust. You cry out with each pump, and it only takes a handful before you’re clamping down around his cock again, shooting cum into your blankets for the second time.
“Nngh, FUCK! You’re so tight. That’s right, cum on my cock.” His voice sounds harsh, like he’s losing control as he keeps pounding into you. His fingertips are digging into your hips again, definitely bruising, as he yanks you back into him. He slams into you one last time with a hoarse shout and you know he’s cumming. His hand reaches around to squeeze your neglected cock and that small pressure and the thought that Ground Zero was cumming in you was enough to get you off one last time, your walls clamping a little weaker around him than the first two times. He holds there for a moment, holding you up as you sag on the bed. He slips out and you hear the snap of rubber as he removes the condom.
“Damn,” he sighs, smacking your ass a little more playfully once more, “That was good. You freaky little shit.”
His footsteps leave the room.
He’s back a moment later, undoing the bindings of the restraints. Your body sinks into your bed in exhaustion and you follow him with your eyes as he moves into your bathroom. You hear your bath water running and blink as Ground Zero steps back into your bedroom, then back out of it into the main area. He’s walking around like he owns the place, and if you could move your body at all you’d say something about it.
He comes back again and lifts you into his arms, carrying you the same way he did on the way in to your apartment.
“Here.” He holds a glass of water to your lips and tilts it. You look at him, confused, as you sip from the glass. “Good. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He carries you into your bathroom, holding you until the water fills halfway. You think he brushes his lips across your temple as he waits but you feel so out of it that you aren’t entirely sure. Once the level is acceptable he is carefully lowering you into the half-filled bath. You hiss at the hot water and he immediately adjusts the temperature. He leaves the glass on the floor. “Keep drinking that. Don’t fucking drown.”
He leaves the room again.
If you weren’t so utterly, deliciously sore you would wonder if you were dreaming. You’re only mildly aware that he comes back at one point to turn the water off before disappearing again like some kind of shitty blonde ghost.
The warmth is seeping into your bones and you’re feeling drowsy. You’re not sure how long you spend drifting in and out, but you aren’t aware when Ground Zero comes back in.
“Hey.” His voice is soft, and you open your eyes, blinking at him with a small smile. “Lean forward so I can wash your hair.” You lean forward as best as you can, assisted by the hero’s hands more than you actually do yourself. You’re able to hold yourself up by bracing your arms on the sides of the tub, and you hear the pop of a bottle as Ground Zero opens your shampoo. Then his hands card through your hair. You can’t help but let a small moan slip from the relaxing sensation. He’s being so much gentler than you thought he was capable of, especially after how rough he’d just been.
He rinses your hair then carefully washes you with your body soap.
Once he’s convinced you’re clean enough he pulls the drain on the tub, helping you to stand and wrapping you in a towel. You’re not so pathetic anymore and you’re able to walk, albeit shakily, back into your room without his assistance.
“Get some pajamas. Don’t put them on yet.” Gentle or not his tone still leaves no room for disobedience, and you pull out a pair of boy shorts (Ground Zero ones, obviously) and a black tank top to leave on your bed. Ground Zero himself comes back out from your bathroom with the glass you didn’t finish and some aspirin. “Take this and finish the fucking water like I already said to.”
You take the pills and sip on the water, watching him sleepily. He’s rifling through his pants pockets, still in his underwear, and pulls out a small green tube. “Alright, lay on your stomach.” He rolls his eyes at the look you give him. “No, not for sex, this is fucking aloe vera. If I don’t put it on your ass it’ll burn for a week.” He does give you a smirk at that, and you place the water on your nightstand so you can crawl onto your bed and lay on your stomach. His rough hands soothingly rub the aloe into your abused skin, and you can’t help drifting off to sleep again. There’s no sass left, only satisfaction. This time though, you don’t wake up when he’s done. You vaguely feel yourself being shifted around, carefully dressed, and tucked into bed. You feel the push of something warm, soft, and sweet onto your mouth and you wonder if you’re dreaming about him kissing you.
When you do wake up it’s almost the afternoon the following day. You’re dressed in the pajamas you picked out and tucked tightly into your bed. You sit up, still feeling sore, and you can’t help but wonder if you’re imagining the whole of last night. It wouldn’t be the first time you had a dream like that, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. Pity you didn’t wake up next to him, though. You ease out of bed and stretch, popping your back a little, before shuffling into the kitchen. On your counter top there’s an envelope. You tilt your head and slowly grab it, pulling it open. Inside is paper yen and a note. You pull the note out and open it.
“There’s food in the fridge. Make sure you fucking eat it. Cash is for the lamp I broke.”
You smile a little and skim further down the page for more writing. Your eyes widen at the phone number, but you about drop the paper at what’s scribbled underneath it.
“For when you want to be a brat again. Maybe if you’re good, next time will be a creampie.
- GZ”
#bakugou katsuki#bakugou x reader#bakugou x female reader#bakugou x male reader#bakugou x nonbi reader#bakugou smut#bakugou imagine#mha smut#mha imagine#bnha smut#bnha imagine#dom bakugou#dom!bakugou#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#my writing
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Transformation
Pairing: Remus Lupin x reader (Marauders Era)
Requested by Anonymous
Summary: Remus is suspicious of how much time you’re spending with Sirius...
@once-upon-an-imagine
(I know I’m tagging someone in this, but I just want to say that I will not be making tag list, sorry!)
A/N: there’s a picture of your animagus form at the end, it’s soooo pretty
Also this got pretty long, but I’m really happy with how it turned out 😊
Sirius set a stack of books on the table before you, a serious expression on his face. “Alright, here’s everything I could find on Animagi,” he said, sitting down next to you. “Are you sure about this?” You nodded. You’d never been more sure about anything else in your life. You hated seeing Remus suffer every month and knowing there was nothing you could do. All you wanted was to be with your man while he transformed, but it was too dangerous. But when you expressed this to Sirius, he mentioned that he, James, and Peter were Animagi and they went with Remus every full moon to help him.
So that’s exactly what you decided to do, and with Sirius’ help, you knew you’d complete the transformation quicker than they had. “Positive,” you responded, and Sirius reached into his pocket. In his hand was a Mandrake leaf, and you took it. “It has to go in on the full moon,” he explained. “And you can take it out on the next full. After that, you have to put it in a vial that ‘receives the pure rays of the moon’. I’ll explain more when we get closer to those steps.” “Thank you, Sirius, really.” “Of course. Me and James will help you whenever you need it.”
You slipped the small vial containing the leaf in your pocket just as Remus entered the common room. He sat down next to you, pulling you into his arms, kissing your temple. “Hey Rem,” you greeted happily, and Remus nuzzled his face into your neck. “Bad day?” He shook his head, tightening his arms around you. “Not really. Moony’s really agitated, he needs his mate near him.” You coaxed his face from your neck and kissed him. “I’m here, Rem. Right here.” He hummed contentedly, and you gave Sirius a knowing look, as if to say “This is why I’m doing this.” But Remus saw that look, and while he tried not to read too much into it, but Moony snarled possessively.
***
Two days later, you were up in your dorm, the Mandrake leaf in hand. The full moon was shining overhead, and James, Peter, Remus, and Sirius had left for the Shrieking Shack a few hours ago. You heard Moony howl in the distance, and you placed the leaf in your mouth, pocketing it between your upper teeth and cheek. Hyper aware of the leaf now that you couldn’t remove it, you laid down and fell into a fitful sleep. The next morning you went to the hospital wing to see your boyfriend. He was propped up in his usual bed, eyes closed in slumber.
You sat next to him, taking his hand, and his eyes fluttered open. “Hey love,” he said, voice rough. “Hey. How was it?” “Bad, but it’s always bad. Missed you. Moony was going a bit mad without you.” “I’m sorry, baby. I wish there was something I could do.” Remus squeezed your hand, bringing it to his lips. “Having you here is enough. I love you, Y/N.” “I love you too, Rem.”
***
He noticed almost immediately: you were quieter since the last full, almost silent. That and you weren’t eating much, picking at your food and pushing it around the plate. “Are you feeling alright, darling?” Remus asked one night at dinner. It was your favorite, and yet, you’d hardly touched it. “Hm? Yeah, I’m fine.” The truth was, you were fearful of talking or eating more than was necessary in case you swallowed the Mandrake leaf or let it fall out. Sirius smirked, stifling a laugh behind his napkin. You smiled at him, and Remus furrowed his brow, a feeling of dread filling him. Something was going on, but he just couldn’t tell what. But somehow, he knew it involved Sirius.
***
There was a note on your nightstand the morning after the next full moon along with a small vial. Y/N, you can take the leaf out of your mouth now and put it in here. I left it on the top of the astronomy tower last night so it’s been in the moon rays. Tonight I’ll show you where you can get the dew for the vial. It has to be from a place where no light or people have been from a week. After that, you just add one of your hairs and the chrysalis of a Death’s Head Hawkmoth to it and put it in a dark place. I’ll explain more later. -Sirius.
Relieved that the month had passed, you peeled the leaf from your mouth and pushed it into the vial. You locked it in your trunk and got dressed, getting ready to go about your day. That night, Sirius, as promised, came up to your dorm to show you where you could get the dew. Remus was well enough this month to leave the hospital wing, and as he was making his way back to the Gryffindor common room, you and Sirius were going to the grounds.
“What are you two up to?” Remus asked, trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice. “Oh, hi Remus. Sirius is just helping me with a Care of Magical Creatures assignment.” “At 9 o’clock at night?” “Yeah, we figured there'd be less people around.” Remus bit back a snide remark. “Alright. See you tomorrow then.” “See you, Rem. I love you!” You went to him and kissed him, which alleviated a bit of Remus’ anxieties. “I love you too, Y/N.”
You parted ways, and Sirius led you onto the grounds and into the forest. “Just around here,” he said, turning left and going down a small hill. “Okay, it’s down there.” Sirius pointed to a hole in the ground that you couldn’t see the bottom of. “It looks deeper than it is, I promise.” You took a deep breath and nodded, taking out your wand. You sat on the ground on the edge of the hole. Without hesitating, you pushed forward, falling three feet before hitting the bottom.
Lighting your wand, you found a small pool of water, and you pulled the vial with the leaf and a silver teaspoon from your pocket. You added the dew to the vial before corking it again and climbed from the hole. Sirius was holding another vial when you emerged, this one containing the Death’s Head Hawkmoth. You uncorked the vial and let him add it, plucking a hair from your head and adding it as well, corking it again.
“What now?” “Well, now you put the vial in a dark quiet place and leave it there until the next electrical storm,” Sirius explained as you made your way back to the castle. “In the meantime, every morning and night, and sunup and sundown, you have to put your wand over your heart and repeat the incantation: ‘Amato Animo Animato Animagus’. After a while, you’ll feel a second heartbeat when you say it.” You’d arrived back at the castle and were now at the door to the Gryffindor common room. Sirius gave the password and entered, you following behind him.
“Know where you’re gonna hide it?” “I do, actually.” “Good.” Remus was slouched in one of the armchairs, completely out of sight but able to hear everything. “Thank you for everything, Sirius. I couldn’t do this without you.” “Of course, Y/N, it’s nothing. Night.” “Night, Sirius.” Remus heard the portrait hole open and close and Sirius ascend the stairs to the dorm, and he felt tears fall from his eyes. You were cheating on him, cheating on Remus with his best friend.
***
A week passed, each morning and night you repeated the incantation with your wand over your heart. The double heartbeat was terrifying at first, but you took it in stride. Then, one day at lunch, the bright, sunny day turned cloudy, and lightning streaked across the sky. “Y/N,” Sirius gasped, and you stood from the table and bolted from the Hall. “Care to explain?” Remus asked, but Sirius shook his head. “It’s not my place to say.”
You ran as fast as you could to the seventh floor corridor, pacing thrice before the wall. I need to get to my vial you repeated in your head, and when the door appeared, you threw it open and sealed it shut behind you. There was a small cabinet on the floor, the rest of the room was a large open grassy space, specifically made for your transformation. You opened the cabinet, crying out in joy. The dew, leaf, hear, and moth had turned into a blood red liquid, just as Sirius had said.
Touching the tip of your wand to your chest, you repeated the incantation: “Amato Animo Animato Animagus,” and drank the potion. You dropped your wand and the vial as you screamed in pain, feeling as if there was a second heart beating in your chest. Then, the image of a cross fox, its fur a beautiful combination of orange and black, entered your mind, and you couldn’t help but smile.
You felt yourself shoot downward, your hands and feet changing shape, and your nose elongating. You opened your eyes, they’d shut from the pain, and you were about a foot from the ground. There was a mirror directly in front of you, and you saw your form for the first time. You had done it, you’d finally transformed! You shouted with glee, which as a fox, sounded like a yipping noise. Calming yourself, you focused on your human form, and you felt yourself shift back.
Grabbing your wand from where it rested on the ground, you ran from the room, a massive smile on your face. Sirius was waiting outside, clearly eager to hear how it had gone. “I did it!” you exclaimed, and Sirius broke out in a smile. “Y/N! That’s amazing!” He pulled you into a hug, elated for you. But at that moment, Remus had come up the stairs, his heart plummeting into his stomach.
“Y/N?” he said, sounding simultaneously heartbroken and enraged. You left Sirius’ embrace, your smile falling when you saw the look on his face. “Remus, I-” “What are you doing? Are you cheating on me with him?” You couldn’t help but laugh, adrenaline still coursing through your veins. “No! Why would you say that?” “You’ve been sneaking around with him, not telling me what you’re up to, looking at each other like you know something I don’t.
“I heard you the other night. Sirius asked you if you knew where you were hiding ‘it’. You said you did. After the last full, you were going out onto the grounds, and I know it wasn’t for class. Y/N, if you’re cheating on me, just tell me, don’t lie to me.” “Remus, baby, no, please. I’m not cheating on you, I would never cheat on you!” “Then what the hell have you been doing?!” He looked at Sirius, but he shook his head. “Y/N, it’s your decision.” “Tell me!” Remus shouted, immediately regretting his anger.
“Alright,” you said, stepping forward. “I’ll show you.” You paced before the wall three times, the door to the Room of Requirement appearing. “What are you doing?” “Trust me, Remus? Do you still trust me?” “I do,” he said at once, following you into the room. Once inside, you closed your eyes, focusing on the image of the cross for, and you felt yourself shift. Remus gasped, and you opened your eyes, looking up at him.
Remus crouched before you, and you padded over to him, sniffing his hand and crawling into his lap. He began stroking your soft fur, and you purred. After a few moments, you crawled out of his lap and shifted back. Remus was crying, his face in his hands, and you knelt before him. “I wanted to become an Animagus to help you during the fulls,” you explained, coaxing his face from his hands. “Sirius had been helping me with the transformation where he could. Remus, I’m so sorry you thought I was cheating on you, I would never hurt you like that. I love you, Remus, so much, and I did this for you.”
“Oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry I ever thought you’d cheat on me. I love you so much, baby. I love you, I love you, I love you. Thank you for doing this, you have no idea how much this means to me, you being there will make the fulls so much easier. I love you.” “I love you too, Remus, I love you so much.” You stayed in his lap for a while, letting Remus hold you, kissing your head. Sirius had left the room, a smile on his face. Remus’ heart had gone from nearly shattering to being fuller than it had been in years, now that he knew you could now be with him when he needed you most.
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the language of flowers | an akaashi x gn!reader fic
hey dino!! could i request a short fluffy fic about someone having a crush on akaashi and works part time in a flower shop? they start leaving him flowers with meanings behind them and a letter anonymously on his desk in school. eventually, they get caught and confesses to him?? im a sucker for flower shop aus and i'd love to see what kind of flowers you would use!! ٩(●˙▿˙●)۶…⋆ฺ -🍙
-- ahhh this request was so fun to write !! i planned it a while ago and just wrote it all down in one sitting hehe. i hope you like this !!
pairing: akaashi keiji x gn!reader
word count: 2k words
contains: fluff !!, lots of flowers and their meanings, hints at a mystery novel night, high school au
summary: akaashi keiji has been receiving flowers from a ‘mystery florist’ (aka, you) for quite a whole. except, he might be crushing on someone else.
a/n: requested by the amazing onigiri-anon !! i really wanted this to be more of a full-length fic because of how cute it is so i hope you guys enjoy it !!
the first flowers akaashi had received from you were twin alstroemerias: one in orange and one in white. he actually had no idea what the flowers’ names were because he had never seen any quite like it. both of the flowers had three main petals and three smaller petals closer to the center that had dark little stripes on them. the white one had a slight touches of pink and yellow in the very center.
akaashi saw the two flowers, wrapped in a pink satin ribbon, on his desk one day after class had ended. it was a few days after finals had ended and he was still feeling bitter loss that hit the volleyball team. but, the sight of the flowers: bright and fresh and sunny, put a little smile on his face.
when he was at home, he decided to look up what the flowers were. it took a great deal of searching through ‘flower pictures’ on google images for him to actually find the name: alstroemeria, also known as peruvian lily. and, because he was curious as to why there would be flowers on his desk, he looked up whether there was a meaning behind the flower.
white alstroemerias meant ‘concern for a loved one who isn’t feeling well’ and orange ones were ‘working towards ones goals.’ akaashi smiled and placed the flowers in a jar full of water on his desk. he didn’t know who it was, but there was someone out there looking out for him.
...
“afternoon, akaashi.”
“afternoon, y/n,” akaashi greeted, sitting down on the table next to you. as usual, you were the first two people in the clubroom. that was mostly because your other members of the literature club were freshmen who volunteered for a ton of other clubs but akaashi didn’t exactly mind. he liked your company.
“another gerbera?” you asked, pointing at the flower in his hand.
“yeah,” akaashi smiled. “it was on my desk this morning.” he had already looked up what the meaning behind that flower after he got it for the first time and saw that it meant ‘cheer up.’ “it came at pretty nice timing too,” he added. it was a pretty stressful week for akaashi with cram school every day and having to study for entrance exams. the flowers were always tied with a pink, satin ribbon.
“are you still on the lookout for who your mystery florist is?” you teased, looking up over the book you were reading.
“i still haven’t stopped my search,” akaashi said, lightly running his hands through the silky flower petals. “well, i do kind of like that they’re this mystery person. i never thought that receiving flowers would be this, well, nice.”
“good for you,” you smiled and returned to your book, sneaking glances once in a while at akaashi as he admired the flower. unbeknownst to him, you were the mystery florist who had been crushing on akaashi ever since freshman year. it had started out as a way to cheer him up a bit after fukurodani wasn’t able to enter nationals. the day after you left the alstroemerias on his desk, akaashi had entered the clubroom with a smile on his face, talking about how someone was nice and enough to give him flowers.
and from then on, you decided to leave him flowers whenever you knew he was feeling down. most of them were gerberas, since there were always one or two left over at the flowershop you worked part-time at. but sometimes, you carefully sneaked out one of the fresh white poppies from the new flower deliveries. akaashi wasn’t really the type to celebrate things like perfect test scores or successful practice matches so you liked sending him a white poppy once in a while to remind him to be happy for himself.
the sight of akaashi walking into the clubroom with a slight sparkle in his eye, a spring in his step, and a fresh flower in his hand became one of your favorite things. and even though you could never convince yourself to actually confess to him, just seeing that was more than enough.
...
‘oh, another flower,’ akaashi smiled as he saw one on his desk as soon as he entered the classroom. it had been a good few weeks since he last received another flower and even though he knew his mystery florist shouldn’t really be obligated to give him flowers in the first place, akaashi still missed seeing fresh blooms on the makeshift jar on his desk.
as he neared his desk though, he found that the flower wasn’t the usual gerbera or white poppy, or even the alstroemerias that he first received. its petals were white and it looked a bit like a rose, except that its petals were a bit bigger and the scent was a bit sweeter.
‘i wonder what this is,’ akaashi thought, pulling up his phone and once again looking through flower pictures. this one was a bit easier to find. the flower was a gardenia: secret love.
...
you were practically holding your breath ever since you left the flower on akaashi’s desk. for the past few months, you’ve been playing it safe with the flowers you were giving akaashi. but earlier that day, while you were opening up the shop, a fresh batch of gardenias was delivered which gave you a crazy idea. akaashi would surely find out what it meant and your heart was hammering in your chest.
“a-akaashi!” you practically squeaked in surprise as soon as he entered the clubroom. the gardenia was in his hand and you felt your face heat up. “another flower, huh? this one looks different from the rest.”
“yeah, it’s a gardenia,” akaashi said, sitting down next to you. unlike before, you couldn’t quite read the expression on his face and that made you even more nervous.
“did you look up what it means?” you asked.
“’secret love’, apparently,” akaashi glanced up at you. “i guess, these have been coming from a secret admirer all this time.”
“aww, that’s so sweet! i wish i had one who’d send me flowers,” you laughed nervously.
“yeah, well the thing is, i wouldn’t know how to tell them,” akaashi sighed.
“tell them what?”
“that i like someone else.”
and with that, you felt your hopes deflate. akaashi already liked someone else. ‘probably one of the pretty ones in class,’ you thought sadly.
“well, i’m sure they’ll understand,” you said in a small voice before returning to the book you were reading. unbeknownst to you, akaashi there was a hint of longing in the way akaashi glanced at you from the corner of his eye.
...
akaashi had a crush on you ever since freshman year, when the two of you met in the literature club. he had already signed up for the volleyball club but since he knew he’d be able to balance things well, he decided to sign up for another club of interest. on your first day as club members, akaashi recalled you intensively defending fanfiction as subversive literature and making very impressive points for that matter. he knew you weren’t very outspoken and you tended to be quite shy around your seniors, but you always spoke up when you felt you needed to.
being in the literature club was even more fun with you around. you were the one who gave the idea of a ‘mystery novel dinner’ event for the cultural festival where you invited other students and pretended to be guests in a house solving a murder. akaashi had pretended to be the well-meaning, intelligent detective while you were lady of the house who mourned the death of her husband while actually being the real killer. the event was a success and akaashi fondly remembered how you were consistently in-character, even when akaashi was apprehending you after he solved the mystery.
when he entered the clubroom the next day, wondering just how he was going to tell his mystery florist that he couldn’t reciprocate their feelings, he walked in to find that you weren’t there.
“oh, akaashi-san,” one of your juniors who was there instead, greeted him.
“y/n isn’t here yet?” he asked.
“oh, well they came here and just left their bag. i think they were trying to buy snacks before the cafeteria closed,” they answered, pointing at your bag that was in your usual seating place.
“thanks,” akaashi nodded his thanks at them and sat down at his usual spot. your bag was zipped completely open, one of your usual habits, and its contents were fully visible. akaashi spotted more than a few books, one of them in particular catching his eye.
“’the language of flowers,’“ he read aloud.
“oh, i think that’s the one from our collection,” his junior said. “y/n has been reading it for a while. i think it’s because of the new job they got.”
“new job?” akaashi asked.
“yeah, at the flower shop,” his junior nodded.
akaashi blinked at the book for a few seconds before standing up. “i’ll be back in a bit,” he said, leaving the clubroom. as quickly as he could, he walked back to his classroom and peeked into the small glass window.
and just as he suspected. there you were, standing by his desk, placing a pink rose on top of it.
...
“thank you for coming,” you bowed as the customers left the shop. as soon as they were gone, you let out a sigh as you surveyed the mess of leaves, stems, and leftover wrapping paper on your workstation. a man had just come by asking for one of the more extravagant bouquets to give to his wife and your fingers hurt a bit from the thorns on the rose stems. you had been dealing with roses all day, especially now that you they were your most recent deliveries since they were in season.
you had also given akaashi a rose. you knew they had very different meanings depending on the color, but the pink one that you gave him meant ‘trust, happiness, or confidence.’ you figured it was about time for you to stop sending him flowers, especially now knowing that he liked someone else, so you decided to go all out and leave him a pink rose.
you tried to focus on cleaning your workstation and leave all thoughts of akaashi out of your head when the shop bell suddenly rang as a customer came in.
“welcome to-- akaashi?” the sight of him made you stop in your tracks. in his hand, he was holding the pink rose you gave him earlier. you watched as his eyes glanced from the bin of fresh roses on your worktable, to the pink satin ribbon your ribbons case, and you knew he had just put two and two together.
“you’re the mystery florist,” akaashi said, stepping closer to where you were.
“i am,” you sighed, knowing there was nowhere for you to run. “but if you want, i’ll stop sending the flowers. that’s the last one.”
“why would i want that?” akaashi asked.
“because... because you like someone else,” you said softly.
“ah, but when i said i liked someone else back then, that could have meant anyone,” akaashi said, a smile playing on the corner of his lip. “it could even be... you.”
your eyes widened as you understood the meaning of what he had just said. “m-me...?”
“yeah.” now it was akaashi’s turn to feel shy. “i’ve... i’ve liked you for quite a while, y/n.”
“you have?” you could scarcely believe your ears. akaashi, the boy who you had crushed on for so long, liked you back.
“now, i guess it’s about time i be the one to give you flowers,” akaashi smiled, surveying the shop. “what do you suggest?”
you let out a giggle, feeling that rush of giddy joy at the knowledge that akaashi liked you back. you looked around all the flowers in the shop, so many meanings, so many ways to say ‘i love you.’
your eyes fell on the bin of roses at your workstation and remembered how the thorns hurt your hand. “well, at this point, anything except roses.”
taglist (still open to anyone who wants in!): @montys-chaos @miyumtwins @strawberriimilkshake @pocubo @sugawara-sweetheart @akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan @therainroguefanfiction @atetiffdoesart @stephdaninja @oikaw-ugh @charliefredb @dramaqueenweeb1469 @tremblinghearts @applepienation @doodleniella @haikyuu-my-love
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