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milfgritty · 3 years

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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 ~

184 notes · View notes

jingabitch · 4 years

Text

Plugged Up

SUMMARY: Tae and Jimin return from the army, and you fulfill a promise made to Tae.

RATING: E

A/N: went on hiatus but almost immediately wrote this LOL. it got finished a lot earlier than I expected because my wifi went out for a couple of hours yesterday and I had nothing better to do.

Big thank you to my betas @knjkitten @astrobabezblog @xoxrinaxox (tumblr wont let me tag) for looking through this for me!

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

series index

For Taehyung, the two years spent in the military were akin to hell. He was away from his brothers, his dog, his family and most of all, you. You were the sweet and soothing presence in his life who’d made being in the spotlight so much more bearable. It was less annoying and painful being in the spotlight, having to answer silly interview questions about his ideal type and his favourite line in every comeback single when he knew he could come home to you.

There was also the matter of the promise you’d given him right before all of them had left for the military. He thought about it in every spare moment he had, every night before going to bed, all the times that he spent sitting in the parade square with his company waiting for something or other, every time you’d come to visit, or he’d had a weekend off to come home and visit you. After all this time and energy spent thinking about it, the anticipation was killing him.

By some strange twist of fate, he and Jimin are being discharged on the same day and coming straight home to you. The logistics of having you at their discharge ceremonies, especially with all the cameras and people, were too difficult, so you’re at home waiting. His family came to pick him up and take him back to Seoul, and he feels bad, but he’s never been so uninterested in spending time with them in his life.

When they finally drop him off at the dorms, he’s just about vibrating out of his skin in excitement, something his family chalks up to seeing the boys again, after all this time. And they’re right, kind of. It’s not even the half of it. He doesn’t let them come into the dorms, spouting some bullshit about how it’s late and he’ll be fine, that they should just get home safely.

He bursts out of the lift onto his floor in excitement, his giant army pack no deterrent for him as he makes a beeline for the dorm. You’re right on the other side of the front door, he knows, and the second that it takes the electronic lock to recognize his thumbprint feels like an age. When he finally hears the jingle that means the door is unlocked, he pushes it open so forcefully that it bangs against the wall. Jumping at the noise, he feels a bit like a fool until he catches sight of you, standing in the hallway staring at him with wide eyes.

It’s not like you hadn’t seen him for the entire time he’d been away, but it had been a couple of months since his last day off, and you’ve missed him so much. You want to take in how good he looks in his army uniform from a distance, but more than that, you need to hug him now, and you take off, sprinting towards him at full speed.

With instincts honed by years of being with you, he takes a step into the apartment, drops his backpack carelessly on the ground and opens his arms to catch you. When you’re close enough, you take a running leap and wrap your arms and legs around him, pressing your lips onto his urgently. Taehyung doesn’t miss a beat as he wraps his arms around you securely, kissing you back with all the pent-up desire and love that he’d been holding on to. He doesn’t bother taking off his shoes as he kicks the door shut blindly then slams you against the wall, the feel of your tongue sliding against his, making his belly tighten.

“That was quite an entrance.” Jimin comments from behind you, standing on the edge of the genkan, his toes curling over the step. Taehyung turns to regard his friend, letting up on you so that you can put your feet back on the ground. You smile as you watch the two friends’ reunion, Taehyung closing the gap between them to hug Jimin. He’s so much taller that even though he’s standing in the genkan, they’re about the same height, and it’s adorable.

Taehyung and Jimin hadn’t seen each other in over a year, because for some reason their breaks never coincided with each other, so you don’t take it personally that they seem more excited to see each other than either of them had been to see you. After a long hug they finally separate; still smiling at each other sappily and you skip over, taking their hands in yours.

Jimin cocks a brow at you, smirking as he strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “This one here’s been excited for you to get back.” he tells Taehyung, who grins at you rakishly in response. It appears that he hadn’t been the only one excited for your reunion.

You whine in embarrassment and step out of the genkan, burying your face in Jimin’s shoulder. "You said we couldn’t start until Tae got back!” you protest, voice half-muffled.

“Start what?” Taehyung asks interestedly, although it’s obvious he knows the answer already. It’s written all over Jimin’s ruffled hair and the pretty flush on your cheeks and going down your neck, disappearing into the neckline of the babydoll that’s barely staying on your body. One of the straps hangs off your shoulder, causing the neckline to droop dangerously.

The clear intent to which Taehyung stares at your breasts almost spilling out of the babydoll soothes your ruffled feathers somewhat. You know he’s been thinking about this – the dirty texts and calls had been increasing in both frequency and intensity as his discharge date inched closer.

About six months ago, you’d gone to have your IUD removed, and Taehyung had, of course, been the most excited of your boys about it, fussing over you as much as he could from the military base where he was stationed. He had sent his assistant over with samgye-tang, even though you were completely fine and could order your own food if you needed it. It had still been nice though, and you always felt loved and cared for by Taehyung, even when he couldn’t be with you in person.

Since then, however, the knowledge of what he was going to do once he got back from his military service has been there in the background in every single one of your interactions. Taehyung, like all the other boys, knows about your cycle in intimate detail and pulled strings to make sure that he would get back from the military just in time to catch your ovulation window. Initially his discharge date was two weeks later, however; you would be on your period, and that was just… wholly unacceptable.

He and Jimin are the first ones to be discharged, which means that breeding you will be their privilege. The knowledge darkens Taehyung’s gaze as he eats you up with his hungry gaze.

“Tae…” You whine impatiently, clenching your thighs together. You are turned on beyond bearing now, seeing the intense gaze he trains on you, his hand tightening over yours. At his request (order?) you’d avoided touching yourself for at least a month now, and Jimin, who arrived home a couple of hours ago, had teased you without relief for ages.

“What’s wrong, love?” Taehyung asks, sliding into the persona that he wears so well in the bedroom. He might be a cute and cuddly puppy most of the time, but both you and Jimin know that when it comes to sex, he’s in charge.

“I missed you.” You pout, tugging on his hand.

“I’m here now.” He teases, grinning at your obvious need.

“Tae…" You whine, pulling harder, and he chuckles at you this time.

“I need to take off my shoes.” He tells you, and you drop his hand so he can unlace his boots. Standing right behind Jimin with your chin propped on his shoulder, your hands slide under his shirt, greedily feeling up his abs. The army had been good for him and his body, you think. They fed him well and worked him hard, and he looks so much healthier now than he was when he left. Watching absently as Taehyung fiddles with his shoes, you sneakily dive your hand into Jimin’s sweatpants to grope him, knowing he’s already hard and waiting for you.

Unfortunately, right before your hand closes around his dick, Jimin lets out a breathy laugh and grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away from him. “Be patient, love.” He chastises, despite your pout. Taehyung, stepping out of his boots, grins at Jimin. You miss the look they share completely, distracted by the feeling of Jimin’s body under your hands. Taehyung knows, though, why Jimin stopped you. It’s uncharacteristic of the smaller man, since he’s usually a complete hedonist and takes his pleasure where he can get it.

Tonight, though, is different. Taehyung and Jimin had agreed to abstain for the past month, to increase their chances of success. It means they have nice, thick loads for you. It also means that both of them are working on a hair trigger. After teasing you, listening to you moan and beg for him for over an hour, Jimin is having a difficult time reining himself in. He’s determined to cum inside you and nowhere else.

When Taehyung finally steps out of his boots and away from the genkan, you reattach yourself to him like a limpet, something he’s only too happy to indulge. He picks you up off the floor entirely and hurries to his bedroom, Jimin trailing behind. Feeling your soft, warm body against his after so long of not seeing you… it’s nothing short of torturous, and he can’t wait to be inside you.

He drops you almost unceremoniously on the bed, but one bounce later you’re surging back up on your knees to attack the buttons on his uniform. It’s complicated though, and with the way your fingers are clumsy from eagerness and arousal, it takes you way too long to figure it out. So, with a chuckle, Taehyung pulls your hands away from his shirt and gets to work stripping himself off.

You sprawl out on the bed, watching with a hooded gaze as he shrugs out of his uniform shirt with practiced ease… Only to find another shirt underneath. With a growl of impatience, you sit back up to pull the shirt off him, while Taehyung just laughs delightedly at how impatient you are.

Jimin chuckles along while sitting in a comfortable chair. That's his usual spot for when he watches you and Taehyung. Usually he would stroke himself while waiting for his turn, but tonight he thinks it best to keep his hands off his junk. Watching your reunion with Taehyung is more than enough to keep him hard anyway.

Getting you out of your skimpy lingerie is far easier than getting Taehyung’s top off had been – one rough yank is enough to send the babydoll flying over your head, and Taehyung tugs so hard on the thong you were wearing that one of the hip seams rips against your thigh, something that neither of you pay attention to. Once you’re naked, you wrap your arms around Taehyung’s neck and pull him down onto the bed insistently.

With one hand bracing his weight and his other working the fastening on his pants, Taehyung can’t stop kissing you. It’s deep, filthy and wet, only a lewd promise of what’s to come. With his trousers finally undone, he crawls onto the bed, clad in just boxers. It’s something you’re not used to – Taehyung usually prefers going commando – but the army uniform doesn’t really allow for that. You hook your fingers in the waistband of his boxers to take them off, leaving them around his thighs as you grab his dick and start stroking.

“Fuckkk,” Taehyung swears against your lips, his brows drawing together. Urgently, he pushes your knees apart, his long fingers diving eagerly into your wet cunt. After all this time, he knows he needs to be careful to stretch you out properly, or it’ll hurt, but God if slowly fingering you open isn’t the hardest thing he’s ever had to do when all he wants is to be buried inside you.

With his thumb circling your clit, he gently pushes two fingers into you, pumping them in and out then scissoring them slowly. You shudder, moan and whine, clawing at his back and shoulders, begging incoherently for him to just stop teasing and fuck you already, dammit. He refuses to give in, even though you can feel him grinding his hips against your thigh and the kisses and bites he lavishes on your neck get rougher and less controlled.

When he finally deems you ready to take him, he is as much of a mess as you are. his muscles jumping sporadically under his skin and his jaw clenched. Words seem to be beyond him as he takes his hot length in his hand, rubbing the tip against your pussy to get it nice and wet.

Now that you’re about to get what you want, you calm down, docile under the weight of his body as you press kisses to his jawline. Your legs bracket his hips and you stroke his sides soothingly, feeling the tremors of his body. He exhales a series of curses as he pushes in, pressing his forehead against yours.

“You’re so goddamn tight, fuck.” He grinds out. He reaches down with one hand to rub your clit, and you clench down on him in response as you shiver in pleasure. All the while, he’s slowly inching in, until finally he bottoms out with a groan. “Missed you so much, baby. I’m gonna breed you so good, and then Jiminie is going to do the same,” he coos at you. “Do you like that? We’re gonna get you nice and pregnant.” He grunts as he begins thrusting in earnest.

Jimin finds that he has no choice but to squeeze the base of his dick as hard as he can to avoid cumming untouched at the way you wail as Taehyung pounds into you, finally letting go of all the pent-up stress of the past two years. Being away from his brothers and from you, having to tell so many lies to his platoon mates and the media about him being single – all of it had taken a toll on him that he’s now taking out on you.

For your part, you absolutely adore it, attempting to pull him deeper into you with your legs wrapped around his hips, leaving long scratches down his back from how good it feels.

“Such a good girl for us, aren’t you?” Taehyung pants. “Gonna fill you up so good, and then Jiminie is going to do the same.” He says, looking up at Jimin who’s watching intently. At first, you’d wondered if Jimin ever felt left out from having to watch you with Taehyung, but he thrives on it. While they were in the military, he’d gotten the chance to be with you alone during his breaks, and he’d never gone as crazy as he does when fucking someone else’s cum out of you.

You tilt your head to squint at Jimin, but your vision is slightly blurred from tears. As Taehyung continues pounding into you, you try your best to smile at Jimin, wanting him to feel included too. You can’t see very well, but you know he recognizes your gesture.

It doesn’t take too long for you to reach orgasm after being denied for so long, and as you cum, you clench down hard on Taehyung. “Fuck, you feel so good.” He pants, pressing his face in your neck as he buries himself as deep into you as he can get.

“I love you so much.” He groans, releasing his massive load deep into you. You stroke the back of his neck as you feel his cum spilling inside you, painting your insides white. He slumps on top of you after that, his bigger body blanketing yours, and you hug him close.

“Jiminie." You call softly, holding your hand out to the other man. He comes over to you, brushing your hair off your face affectionately.

“What is it, jagiya?” He asks, smiling down at you.

“I love you too." You tell him sweetly.

He leans down to kiss you. “I know.” He says smugly, and you roll your eyes at him.

He then moves to kiss Taehyung, slowly, lazily. When they break away, Taehyung pulls himself off you and grabs a pillow from above your head, stuffing it under your hips.

“You have to be careful,” he instructs Jimin. “Or else it’ll all come out.”

“I know, I know.” Jimin waves him off, kneeling between your spread legs on the bed. He leans over you, and you giggle as you loop your arms around his neck.

“Did you enjoy Taehyung, jagiya?” he asks. You nod in response, your gaze darting towards Taehyung for a moment before you look away with a slight blush.

“Do you feel up to taking me tonight?” Jimin says next, his fingers brushing over your used pussy. It’s all a bit – you both know that you’ll bite your lip, pretend to think about it, then accept coyly, and that’s exactly what you do.

The best part about going second, Jimin has found, is there’s absolutely no need for foreplay. He doesn’t need to stretch you out or worry about whether you’re wet enough, because Taehyung’s already taken care of that. Easing himself into you, with Taehyung’s cum as lubrication, is another way for him to feel close to his best friend, even as he makes the most intimate connection there is with you.

“Jiminie.” You coo at him as you tighten your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. As turned on as Jimin is, he likes to start slow, building it up and making it last.

“Baby.” He responds with equal amounts of affection, brushing his nose against yours as he starts a slow, steady rhythm.

“I missed you.” You sigh. “You always fuck me so good.” Jimin responds well to compliments, so you make sure to keep up a steady stream, kissing him softly, stroking his sides and back, telling him how good his cock feels inside you. It’s not a lie – Taehyung is big, but Jimin is just a little girthier, and the stretch burns pleasantly as he thrusts into you.

“Ah jagiya, you’re always so good to me.” He moans, speeding up a little. Despite Taehyung’s warning, you can feel his cum squelching out of you, making a mess of both you and Jimin. He probably won’t like that, but it’s a nice feeling, and you hug Jimin closer to you. He doesn’t last long either, but makes sure to get you there first, angling his thrusts so that his pelvis bumps against your clit as he reaches that magic spot inside you with the tip of his cock. He remembers that article he read that said the chances of conception are higher when women orgasm, and redoubles his efforts to make you cum.

After so many years together, he knows your body like the back of his hand, and you find yourself falling apart under his expert ministrations. Almost against your will, you feel yourself tightening around Jimin, broken gasps escaping you as you begin climbing the peak again. You fall apart with a shudder, and Jimin groans as he feels you clench hard on him. Finally, finally, he lets himself cum into you, driving in hard one last time before he spills with shuddering moans into your soiled pussy.

“I love you.” He gasps as he slumps over you bonelessly. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He repeats, nuzzling into your cheek. Equally winded, you pat his back gently, your eyes seeking Taehyung’s.

He stretches out beside you and presses a kiss to your other cheek. “You did well tonight, love,” he praises. “You’re not done yet, though.”

Still a little addled, you don’t have the words to ask him what he means, but the inquisitive tilt of your head has him grinning at you as he holds a pussy plug in front of your face. “So you don’t let any out.” He explains, winking at you.

Jimin heaves himself off you with a grunt, lying flat on his back beside you. Taehyung takes his cue to sit up, pushing your knees apart so he can insert the toy. You fidget uncomfortably for a second, and he strokes your thigh gently. “Such a good girl." He says softly. “Just wanna make sure you keep it all in.”

You force yourself to lay still as he puts it in, then he lies back next to you, one arm flung across your waist. Jimin, on your other side, clings just as hard, and you let yourself drift off to sleep, knowing that round two is coming as soon as they get their breath back.

#kwritersworldnet #btswritingcafe #smutcentralnet #ficswithluv #magicshopnet #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #bts #bts fic #bts smut #yandere bts #bts yandere #taehyung smut #jimin smut #fucked up #bts idol au

776 notes · View notes

eveenstar · 3 years

Text

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒲𝒶𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒

𝙰 𝚁𝚎𝚍 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚁𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝟸 𝙵𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙸𝙸

Summary: In 2031, a journal is found. It tells the story of a woman named Y/N L/N, who claims to be a time traveler from 2021. This is the story of her life.

Tags/Warnings: Nothing to add yet.

Note: Also, this is a Javier Escuella x reader. The reader is also female, sorry!

“What the hell?”

“Is she alright?”

“Don't just stand there, help the poor girl!”

I remember waking up on a bed, not soft at all, reminded me of a rock.

The rays of the sun made the girl groan and sit on the bed. Rubbing her eyes, she looked around and noticed the strange ambient she was in. A few people walking around, yet none of them noticed she was awake. The woman got up slowly, swaying on her feet, and took slow steps towards her bag left on the ground, until a small voice startled her.

“Mama, the weird lady is up!”

“Already?”

(Y/N) sighed, her head up, and watching as all the eyes were on her. Her mind was still processing the information from the past hours, time-traveling. Right, right, she knew what to do. At least, what she was supposed to do. Her body felt different, probably still adjusting to going through a portal, her mouth was dry and she could still taste a bit of dirt on her lips from the fall.

“Hey, lady, you good?” A silvery voice ringed, waking (Y/N) from her thoughts. Looking at the group of people surrounding her. The man wearing a sombrero got closer to her with a cautious look on his face. The girl didn’t answer, the shock beginning to take over her body. Only know did the poor girl realized what she had done.

“Javier, be careful. She could be…dangerous.” Another voice coming from behind him said.

Dangerous? Well, she kinda is, right? Being a skilled hacker and knowing her way on a gun, but that probably wouldn’t serve much in this era. The hacker part, at least. (Y/N) focused on the loud voices coming near them, they were arguing, and probably about her too.

“Why are we keeping her alive, Dutch? The woman came through that shiny golden circle on the sky and you decide to keep her here?” A blond man waved his arm towards her angrily. (Y/N) recognized him from the old picture the other woman had shown to her; Micah Bell.

“We can’t just kill her, Micah. We need to hear her first.” The other man, Dutch van der Linde, or the dude with fancy clothes, replied. Seemingly annoyed by Micah.

“We have far too many mouths to feed already. We can’t have another one.” A feminine harsh voice announced. “Who comes through something like that in the middle of nowhere? In our camp? She’s dangerous.”

The woman let out a heavy and annoyed sigh. Crossing her arms and looking to the gang, with her brows furrowed. She wouldn’t let them talk like that about her like she wasn’t there. Everyone quickly looked at her.

“If you let me explain myself first before any of you open your mouths.” (Y/N) could see the surprised look on a few faces, but an angry one on the others. Maybe having an attitude wouldn’t do her any good here, probably should get rid of that before causing any problems amongst the gang. After all, she needed to gain their trust.

“I’m sorry, Miss…?”

“(L/N).”

“I’m sorry, Miss (L/N), they can be quite suspicious about strange folks. Of course, we’ll let you explain yourself after…that.” Dutch spoke softly with an educated tune, being the calmest and reasonable of them all. The girl took a few steps back, stumbling on her words a few times, even mumbling in Italian. Everyone’s eyes were on her like hawks, most of them curious but suspicious. It wasn’t hard to understand them, a random woman popping out of a hole on the sky dressed weirdly would any person be suspicious and probably very shocked.

(Y/N) was taking too long. Hearing a click of the tongue made her straighten up and fixing her eyes on the wanted gang.

“Well, err, I am…from the future-“

“The future?! I can’t listen to that bullshit!” Micah replied almost immediately.

“Shut the fuck up I’m talking!” The sudden shout made their eyes widen a bit, but she could still hear a few mumbled laughs on the background. “As I was saying, I came from the future. I’m from 2021. Someone sent me here to…help you all before a big tragedy takes place.”

After seconds of shocked nonbelieving silence, a few loud voices were heard around. Mostly because they didn’t believe one single word she’d just said, others were questioning why Dutch decided to let her live and how they should just throw her on the river. But, one of the girls slowly approached her, more calmly.

“Why you?” The young brown-hair freckled woman asked, one of her brows up in a questioning way. She sounded so gentle when she spoke.

I adored Mary-Beth. I think she was the kindest and most gentle member of the Van der Linde gang.

“Oh. Well, you see….” (Y/N) gazed hesitantly to Dutch for the first time. He was watching her with his arms crossed, with a heavy brooding expression and eyes narrowed. The leader was wearing a black and red vest with a blue and white pinstripe shirt, with gold chains on his vest, with a smart black jacket and a black hat. He was taller than her and stronger; with a thick, black mustache and soul patch under his lips, he also has dark black, slick backed hair that curls at the end. Taking a mental note on his appearance, he seemed far more intimidating in real life.

I recall thinking “Damn, is that my great-grandpa? He’s hot.”. But in a serious note, he seemed to be so cold-hearted but at the same time, kind and trustworthy. He did look like a gentleman. He was an outlaw, and well, I guess it does run on the family.

What was she doing? Why did she take the stupid decision on going back to the past just because someone didn’t like how this gang’s fate ended? Many, many lives didn’t have a happy ending too. So why change only theirs? (Y/N) was already regretting the foolish decision she took, but hey, she still had that block thing to go back. Nothing was lost yet, she just had to justify herself and get the hell out of there before they decide to kill her or worse.

Hearing a forced cough woke the girl from her thoughts. Feeling embarrassed when she noticed she had been staring at him this whole time. Good, just wonderful.

“I’m Dutch’s…great-granddaughter.” The words merely escape her lips and heavens, how she felt like throwing herself out of a cliff after it. A burst of loud laughter was heard, coming from some of the men. A great joke, yes, that’s what this was. They didn’t believe her, not without proof, and she couldn’t honestly blame them.

“You can’t possibly believe this crazy woman’s words, Dutch. C’mon.”

“Miss, please elaborate on that.”

“Dutch? C’mon boss, she hit her head when she fell!” Micah shouted, not very happy with the leader deciding to hear her story before making any judgment. (Y/N) was glad for it, who knows what would happen if he decided to listen to that idiot.

She grabbed her bag and started to look for her phone, it probably wouldn’t work much there but if time traveling is a thing, maybe ghost WiFi was too. Who knows. Probably asking for too much there. (Y/N) took a few steps closer and turned it on, showing them the colorful wallpaper and the date, “2021”, proceeding to shows some pictures of streets and buildings she had on her gallery. It seemed to have worked, has everyone had a terrified look on their faces. Most of them were still a bit hesitant, and probably scared of the unknown.

The girl turned to the leader, she didn’t have any proof about being his great-granddaughter. Wait, she didn’t ask for it too. Damn it, did she just get fooled by that woman?

“I don’t have any proof, sir, but that woman told me I was…your granddaughter and needed me to save you all.” Before he replied, she added. “She did mention a one night woman you were with.”

“If what you’re telling us is the truth,” He began, slowly. Still watching her closely. “I guess you’ll have to stay with us.”

Giving the man a slight smile, the girl nodded. She heard a few angrily mumbles coming from behind them, some of the gang’s members weren’t very happy with that sudden decision. With a gentle pat on her shoulder, Dutch made his way to the middle of the camp and looked at everyone, rubbing his hands together with a serious, yet sympathetic expression.

“Family, Miss (L/N) will stay with us for the time being. I don’t want any complaints about this, she showed us proof of her story and if she’s here to help us, we should give her a home.” Nobody spoke, just silence. Maybe they didn’t want to oppose their leader. “Miss Grimshaw, please help Miss (Y/N) prepare a tent and show her around.”

The older woman nodded, looking at Dutch and then glaring suspiciously at (Y/N).

“Miss (Y/N), I would like to speak with you…privately.” Feeling a sudden jump of beat on her chest, the girl nodded. The serious tune on his voice addressing to her caught her by surprise, she didn’t like that tune coming from adults. Perhaps because every time that happened, they would blame her for something afterward and treat her like a child.

“Don’t worry, he just wants to talk to you about that great-granddaughter thing, ya know,” Mary-Beth said, giving (Y/N) a warm smile. “I’ll catch you later, ‘kay? Someone has to show you around and meet the other folks.”

“Thanks…?” The girl tilted her head a bit. That’s right, they didn’t present themselves yet.

“Mary-Beth. You?” The young woman replied. Her name fit her perfectly, she looked like the main character of a romance novel.

“(Y/N).”

“Oh, well, nice to meet you, (Y/N). It’s better if you go now, don’t wanna keep Dutch waitin’.” Mary said, already making her way to another tent. (Y/N) nodded in agreement, putting her brave face and walking confidently to Dutch’s tent. Alright, probably not that confident, but she couldn’t let the others think she’s weak or scared now. She had a role to keep! The thought about going back to 2021 was already in the back of her mind and probably would stay there for a very long time.

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde #javier escuella #javier escuella x reader

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worldserasingandcreatinginmymind · 4 years

Text

Flesh & Blood | Part Two

Series Summary: A mysterious stranger with ties to your past shows up in your small village

Chapter Summary: a quiet village, every day like the one before... until a mysterious stranger arrives

Pairing: Count Dracula x reader

Word Count: 2126

Warnings: none

A/N: as always spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :) if you want to be added to the taglist please drop me a message in my ask box

Y/B/D = your birth date, Y/H/T = your home town

Masterlist | Part One

- - - - -

2020

The shrill beeping of your alarm wakes you up with a jump. You groan and roll over, picking up your phone from the bedside table and hitting the snooze button before dropping it back down. You allow yourself to stay in bed for the next 5 minutes, but its not long before the alarm is reminding you it’s time to get up and start the day.

An hour later you're ready and leaving for work. You close the front door of the cottage you live in and head down the hill toward the village high street, taking in the views of the sea as you walk. You’ve lived in this village for as long as you can remember, but the view still makes you smile.

The high street is one main road that runs through the small village and is lined with shops either side. As you walk down the street you greet various other villagers opening up their shops for the day. You hold your breath as you pass the butchers so you cant smell the scent of the uncooked meat hanging in the window. Then you pass the florist and take a deep breath, floral scents flooding your senses. You stop when you reach the local clothes shop and see the owner cleaning up shattered glass.

“Morning Roger” you say and he turns to look at you with sad eyes “what happened?”

“oh someone broke in last night. Smashed the window and stole the suit straight off the mannequin” he points to the naked mannequin left standing in the broken window display.

“did they take anything else?”

“Nothing. Not even a penny from the till. Just the one suit, thats it.”

“that’s weird. At least theres not too much damage though”

“I guess I should count myself lucky that it could have been much worse. Have a good day y/n” he says with a tired smile as he takes the bucket of broken glass inside the shop.

You pass a few more shops before you reach the door of the bakery cafe and swing the door open, the familiar scent of fresh baked bread and cakes fills the air.

“Morning Maggie” you call as you drop your bag behind the counter and head into the kitchen at the back.

“morning love” She responds, looking at you over the top of her flour covered glasses as she kneads dough on the counter. Maggie is an older lady, with a friendly wrinkled covered face and greying curly hair which was currently contained in a hairnet. She had always been like a grandmother to you, and since losing your parents she was the only family you had left. Apart from being a bit of a gossip, she was a really lovely lady and you love working for her and listening to her crazy conspiracy theories. “did you hear all the drama last night?”

“yeah I’ve just seen Roger outside, he told me all about the break in” you respond, grabbing your apron off the hook and tying it around your waist.

“oh no I meant about the drama on the beach?”

“no? What happened?”

“oh it all kicked off. Helicopters, sirens, the works. You didn’t hear any of it from up the hill?”

“nope, must have slept right through it.”

“you young people, you’ll sleep through anything” Maggie says putting another batch of bread in the oven “well you missed all the fun. They dragged a body out of the sea and-”

“a body?!” You interrupt.

“well according to Carol anyway. She said she heard from Jan that someone had reported a body on the beach. Her grandson works in the police so she finds out things from him. Anyway, the police raced down there straight away but when they got there the army had already arrived and told them to leave. Army outrank the local police apparently.”

“wow”

“and thats not all. I ran into Nigel this morning in the supermarket. Nigel lives right by the beach and he said he heard a gunshot and a load of shouting last night. He looked out the window and saw a woman lying on the sand bleeding, and people in black uniforms running everywhere. Looked like there were chasing a man. He ran down to see if he could help but by the time he got there the beach was empty. No sign of anyone at all. Strange right?”

“very” you nod, trying to seem more interested “what do you think happened?”

“maybe it was a vampire” a mans voice suddenly speaks and you both turn around to see a tall man with jet black hair stood looking at you through the serving hatch.

“a vampire? Now theres a suggestion I didn’t expect to hear” Maggie laughs and the stranger laughs back at her, but you get the feeling he wasn’t really joking.

“What are you cooking back there? Something smells.. exceptionally good” he says, his dark eyes fixed on you.

“All sorts of magic happening in these ovens, but unfortunately we’re not actually open till 8am” Maggie replies in her usual customer service voice and she walks through into the shop. You stay back in the kitchen, mixing the dough for the next batch of bread.

“oh I’m very sorry, I didn’t know. I’m new around here” you hear the man say, he talks like an old fashioned gentleman.

“no bother, it’s alright. If you want to take a menu and come back in half an hour we’ll be happy to serve you a slice of magic”

“wonderful. I’ll be back then.” You watch as he turns to leave, then stops. “see you later Y/N” he shouts through to you and your eyes go wide as he shuts the door behind him.

“ooh I think someone likes you” Maggie teases and she walks back into the kitchen.

“how did he know my name?” You say, not really asking but more thinking out loud.

“hmm I don't know. Probably read it off your name tag” she replies casually as she carries on baking.

You look down at the small name tag you forgot was attached to your apron and let out a small sigh. Of course that makes sense. But you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach when you thought about the darkness in his eyes.

— — — —

The day was dragging. The usual customers came and went, each with their own theories about what had happened the night before. Maggie was happy to listen and share her own views with them but you ended up zoning out every time. Instead you wondered about the stranger from this morning. Who was he? He said he was new here, does that mean he’s staying or just passing through? Either way, something about him made you feel weird and you found yourself watching the door anxiously every time the little bell above it rang.

You were clearing tables after the lunch rush before you could go on your own lunch break, when the door bell dinged and a woman you didn’t recognise walked in.

“take a seat, I’ll be with you in a moment” you say politely as you carry a tray of dirty dishes and mugs into the kitchen. You pick up your little note pad and pen ready to go take her order when Maggie stops you.

“its okay love, I’ll serve her. You have your lunch” she says gesturing to the plate of sandwiches she’s made for you then walking out into the cafe greeting the stranger in her usual loud and bubble manner.

You smile and take the food out through the back door and take a seat on the grassy bank. The sunshine warms your skin as you tuck in to the delicious sandwiches which Maggie has packed with your favourite filling. Once you’ve finished eating you lie with your back on the grass, watching the seagulls fly high above you and the white clouds moving slowly across the perfect blue sky.

You lie there daydreaming for a while but when a fly noisily buzzes past your face and makes you jump you sit up, swatting it away with your hand. You check the time on your watch, almost time to get back to work. You take a few deep breathes of the fresh air before standing up and brushing the grass off you. Something catches your attention in the corner of you eye and you turn to look.

There he is.

The stranger from this morning stood in the shade, leaning against a tree trunk. A shiver tickles down your spine and he smirks at you as the two of you lock eyes.

“Y/N love, could you come back in now?” Maggie calls, poking her head out the door.

“yes yeah ill be right there” you respond looking at her and she goes back inside. You look back over to the tree but he’s gone. Was he ever really there or is he just on your mind?

You walk back into the kitchen, deep in thought.

“are you alright love?” Maggie ask, concerned when she sees the look on your face.

“yeah I’m fine” you snap out of it and smile at her. You spot the unknown lady still sat at the same table she was at before you went on lunch. “she’s still here?”

“she asked if she could use our wifi to do some work on her computer, I said its fine as long as she buys something. Anyway, I’m just nipping out. Will you be okay to run things here for a while?”

“of course, see you in a bit” you smile as she heads out the front door. The lady looks up at you from her laptop and you smile, but she just looks back down and carries on working.

Ten minutes later the cafe is empty apart from you and the mysterious lady.

“excuse me, could I get two more coffees please?” She calls to you and you nod.

“two? Sure yeah, coming up” you reply slightly confused. Two? Maybe someone is coming to join her.

You make the coffees and carry them over to her, carefully placing them down on the table next to her laptop.

“Thanks, this one’s yours. Will you sit?” she gestures to the chair opposite her.

“huh? Oh, no thank you. I cant, I’m working right now”

“theres no one else in here. Just sit for a moment. I have something important to discuss with you” she says friendly enough but with a serious undertone.

“i don't understand-” you start

“Y/N Y/L/N. Born Y/B/D in Y/H/T, but moved here to this village when you were 4 years old and you’ve lived her ever since. Your parents died 5 years ago in a car crash and since then you’ve lived alone in your family home, the lovely little cottage up on that hill.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“Sister Y/N, your great great grandmother, was a nun in Saint Mary’s convent of Budapest in the late 1800’s. In 1897 every nun in that convent was slaughtered. All but three, your great great grandmother was one of them. She fled to England and started a new life. A family.”

“How do you know this?” You repeat, getting frustrated.

“Because I am a direct descendant of one of the other survivors, Sister Agatha Van Helsing. I’m Dr Zoe Van Helsing”

“What, so, someone broke into a nunnery and killed everyone. But our ancestors got away?” You don't understand why any of this matters.

“not someone, something” she pauses “a vampire”

“a vampire?” You stare at her in disbelief and she nods. She’s not joking, she really believes this. “this is ridiculous, I don't know what game you're playing with me but I want no part of it” you say walking away from her.

“this is not a game, this is real. Y/N, a vampire killed all those nuns back then, and now he’s back. He’s here, and I think he’s looking for you”

Her words stop you dead in your tracks.

“He could have killed her, Y/N, but he didn’t. He made the decision not to kill her and he let her go.” She continues and you turn to face her again. “it’s all here in this journal written by your great great grandmother. I think you should read it”

You slowly walk back over to her and take a seat at her table. She pushes a very old, slightly torn and battered journal across the table to you. You open it up to the bookmarked page and begin reading.

“1897.

It all started when the undead man arrived…”

Part Three

Taglist: @a-dorky-book-keeper @agent-smulder

#Dracula #flesh and blood #Dracula x reader #Dracula fanfic #Dracula imagine #Dracula bbc #Dracula netflix #claes bang #Claes Bang dracula #Claes Bang x reader

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5sos-seavey · 4 years

Note

Request: drew starkey.... do with it what you will

well here it is, hope you like it, don’t die :)

See You in Austin - Drew Starkey

Warning(s): none

Word Count: 1434

Tags: @snarkystarkey, @maybe-maybanks, @baby-bearie, @jjmayibeyoursbanks, @katie-avery, @drew-starkey (if you want to be tagged in future outer banks fics let me know, also let me know if you wanna be untagged in future outer banks fics)

See You in Austin by Dakota Striplin

After hours on FaceTime, he decided it was time to put it all out in the line.

You and Drew had only been dating for about two months and when he got the job for Outer Banks you were obviously very supportive. The only thing that was gonna be hard was that the filming location was quite the plane ride away. Drew was very adamant on wanting to make it work though and you were not opposed; you really liked him. “We’ll call and text all the time,” he told you at the airport as he went in for a hug. You were tearing up a little bit into his chest as you held onto him, “I’m gonna miss you Drew.” He let go and put his hands on either side of your face and kissed the top of your head, “I’ll miss you too. I have to go now though.” He hugs you again, tightly and when he pulls away, he kisses you as tears fall down your face. “Don’t cry, we’ll see each other soon, I promise,” and with that he goes in for one last kiss and heads farther into the airport with you watching him go.

Later that night you get multiple snapchats from Drew. When you open the app you see that they’re all videos he’s sent you. “What up babyyyy just landed and waiting for them to let us off the plane!” In the next one he’s singing what he’s saying, “I’m getting off the plane, getting off the plane. I am. Getting. Off. The plane. Off the plane,” which you laugh at. “Now I’m waiting for my bag,” then he whispers, “someone’s staring at me, I’m scared they’re gonna take my bags.” “I’m in the car! No bags were stolen!” “I’m in my hotel room! I’m laying on the bed,” then he gets quite and a little upset it seems, “I wish you were here with me, hopefully you can come out soon.” And that’s the end of his snapchats, they must’ve all sent once he connected to the hotel wifi, you think to yourself. You decide to send him a text instead of snapchatting back.

y/n: seemed like your flight went well, along with the whole trip to the hotel lmao

Drew: it was lol hope you enjoyed the snaps

Drew: wanna FaceTime?

y/n: always

Three weeks later and things were still going well with Drew. You knew he wouldn’t be able to FaceTime everyday, but he made up for it with texts and snapchats when he could. That’s how you knew he cared for you, that even when he couldn’t give you his attention, he still did his best to give it. You were the same too, school was really on you right now, and Drew knew that. Sometimes when you’d FaceTime you would just be in each other’s company. You could be working and writing papers and he just wanted to be able to see you and be with you. When you were both absolutely free though, he would sometimes want to schedule that the two of you cook the same meal and eat together regardless of the time difference, so it felt like you were actually together.

y/n: you free tonight?

Drew: yes! Can we both have pasta?

y/n: lmao yeah

y/n: call me whenever you’re able to, I’m not doing anything all day

Drew: I’m gonna have to call you while making dinner or after, is that okay?

y/n: yeah of course that’s fine! Let me know when

A few hours later, when you were making pasta, your phone started ringing; Drew was FaceTiming. “Hi Drew!” “Hey! How’ve you been? How was your day?” “I’m good, everything’s good. How’s filming and everyone?” “It’s so fun, I still can’t believe I’m doing this,” Drew said smiling, “everyone says hi by the way.” You had gotten to know some of his castmates given the amount of time he spends with them, and the amount of time and attention he insists on giving you. “Hi back,” you laughed, “I’m almost done making dinner. Did you finish already?” “Yeah, I finished a few minutes ago, don’t rush though, I don’t mind waiting till your done.”

The following weeks went on just like that. Then before you knew it, it was your five month anniversary with Drew. You really wanted to fly out and see him since neither of you had made a trip yet, but he told you not to because of how busy his and your schedule was, and he especially didn’t want you more distracted from your school work. You appreciated how much he cared for you and your schooling, he knew how much it meant to you, but school wasn’t distracting enough to make you forget about how much you missed him. You even voiced that to him, “I promise I won’t be distracted and I won’t distract you, I’ll stay at your place while you film and do my work and when you’re back from filming we’ll spend time together,” you finished and pouted. “Don’t look at me like that babe,” he laughed, “I’m not worried about you distracting me, because I wouldn’t mind that,” he smirked. “Hey,” you said and laughed. He laughed again, “I just don’t want your school work to suffer because you’re here and wanting to spend time with me. I’d rather that you waited until you had a break from school so you could come to the sets with me and experience filming with me,” he smiled, knowing that he got through to you. “Fine,” you huffed, “then when it is our anniversary next week, can we have dinner together like usual?” “Yeah, I was gonna say we can do that, and then once we’re together we can go out,” he smiled, “I really miss you though and wish we could actually see each other in person again.” “I know, but I have a break next month so I’m gonna try and come see you.”

It was the day of your anniversary and you and Drew were texting each other all day. Neither of you could FaceTime until dinner since you had exams coming up you had to study for, and Drew obviously was filming all day. You had gotten dressed up nice so you didn’t have to change once you finished dinner since you wanted to call Drew dressed all nice as soon as possible. Just when you were about to start cooking dinner, Drew was FaceTiming you. “Happy anniversary babe!” “Happy anniversary Drew!” “What are you making?” “I was just about to start making pasta, ya know, it’s a little simpler while I’m studying and stuff.” “I was gonna have pasta too!” You laughed at his enthusiasm over the two of you having the same meal. “By the way, I sent you something that said it was delivered a couple hours ago. Can you check and see if it’s at the door?” “Yeah, sure. So how was your day,” you ask as you head towards the door. “It was good, just a little tired though.” “Yeah I bet, you’re like constantly filming.” “Yeah but not just because of filming,” he said as you were unlocking the door to open it. As you were opening the door you asked, “why? What happened today?” When you opened the door he said, “I was on a plane coming to see my girlfriend.” And there he was, standing right in front of you for the first time in three months. You dropped your phone and jumped into his arms and wrapped your legs around him as he held you. “I couldn’t not see you for another day,” he whispered into your hair and kissing your neck as you cried into his shoulder. “I missed you so much, Drew. I missed you so much,” you whispered back into his neck. Once he put you down, he grabbed the sides of your face and kissed you, finally. You stayed in your doorway for a few moments kissing him until he pulled away said, “glad I got here before you started cooking because I may have made a reservation for us downtown,” she slyly smiled at you. “You’re pretty amazing, you know that,” you said and gave him a quick peck. “Before we go though, I have to tell you something.” You looked at him strangely, “what?” He had a large grin on his face, “I love you, so much.” You grinned back at him just as wide, “good thing that I love you too then,” which made the both of you laugh before he leaned in to kiss you once more. “Okay, let’s get going then shall we.”

#drew starkey imagine #outer banks imagine #obx imagine #drew starkey #outer banks #obx #sams work

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optimistic-dinosaur-nacho · 4 years

Text

Blood Roses

Dark!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, Kidnapping (That’s all I got cause I’m not doing smut) Summary: You don’t remember anything since that crash. But someone who claims to be your husband is taking very good care of you. Until you found out the truth of your real life.

This goes for the weekly challenge! The Moodboard choosing is up above! If you want to join! Click here Weekly Challenge

Going into 3 challenges which is crazy? I’ve never done that before

As always lovely people @donutloverxo @captain-a-rogerss

Check out the other two challenges!

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork - Challenge Time

@jtargaryen18 - 30 Days of Chris

Might seem familiar to some, it does have similarities to a movie I once watched.

~~~

“Y/N!” He roars out, you were whimpering, running through the forest with a large limp. Your head turning back every second and turn you took on the trail. “I’m not in the mood for this!” He continues.

He sounded closer than usual and you immediately slid down the hill and hid in the leaves. Your wheezing and cries were audible so you closed your hand over your mouth.

His broad shoulders came into view and his pace was quick down the trail, you knew he was gonna find you and catch you quickly. Your ankle ached, you stood up and stepped on a twig, causing it to snap. You gasped. “Where are you, sweetheart?”

. 24 Hours Earlier .

He said your home was miles from town. You remembered what he said to you, keeping you in the house and took care of you. He was there when you first woke up. Claiming to be your husband, he bought you your favorite flowers. Red roses.

He held your hand with the wedding rings touching each other as they come together once again. He kissed your knuckles and smiled softly.

“You’re safe with me.”

Not knowing who he was, he tried to name all the things you two used to do together. He said you would ride on his motorcycle at nights. He even brought you to work to meet his friends. Had a few beers, laugh and all. Gotten married not too long after.

The night on that special day, he said he wouldn’t forget it. Even showing you a photo of you two in a wedding picture. He had a clean shave at the time, he said you wanted him to grow it out but you don’t remember anything.

You were hoping to remember him.

Steve Rogers. The day he met you in the hospital, he introduced himself again and he sounded heartbroken almost. Almost a few days of being in the hospital and getting to know Steve more, he took you home.

They gave you a cane and a wheelchair. He helped you in and out of the car. The house was big. Steve said there was a lake that was down the trail a bit, said that you two would go down there and watch the sun hit the waters.

He took you there once. Enjoying the sun setting in the distance, giving the water a nice gleam of peace. It calmed you. You tried walking around with a cane. Steve told you not to work on that ankle a lot around the house. Make it worse as it is.

You were mostly in the wheelchair.

You were smelling the bacon and eggs as you stared outside, looking out to the rose bushes that seem to be blowing with the wind. Sometimes you’d see Steve go out and cut them. Putting them in the flower vase at the table in front of you.

“Did you hear me, sweetheart?” His voice beams. You inhaled softly and turned your head to look over your shoulder. You hum, “What?” Steve puts the breakfast onto a plate and takes it over to you. “You zoned out, everything okay?” He asked.

You look at him and give him a grin, “Yeah. Just thinking.” Steve wore a dark sweatshirt that was too tight on him. You could see the muscle bulge out of his shirt on the urge to rip through. He quirks a grin, “What were you thinking about?” He asked.

He came behind you as you shook your head, “Just trying to think about what we did before this happened.” Steve’s hands come to your shoulders and he gently massaged them.

“It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna head out, though. Stop by the office to say hi to a couple of friends and I’ll grab some groceries for tonight’s dinner. You look up and smiled at him. “Okay. I was thinking about walking around the house, anyway. To see if anything could trigger my memory.”

His hands tighten on your shoulders before he released them, “Don’t overdo it, sweetheart.” He takes his leather jacket and slips it on. “I’ll be back.” He grabs his keys and placed a kiss on your head.

You didn’t remember him, but it was nice that he still loved you no matter what. But you weren’t sure why you married him. You couldn’t remember. You weren’t sure if you loved him anymore. But he was a nice man.

You hear him leave and you continued to finish your breakfast. After you did, you took your cane and stood up. Wincing slightly at your ankle that you fractured in your crash.

You had been in an accident and they said you’d have to walk for a few minutes, heal your ankle every once in a while. You walked around the house. Walking into a room that happened to be Steve’s office, you saw his computer on the desk. You sat down and opened his computer.

A password was needed.

You bit the inside of your cheek and thought about adding the date of your wedding that Steve had told you. It didn’t work. You added your favorite flower into the password. Roses. Nothing. You leaned back in your chair and thought it through.

Why were you going into his space? He wouldn’t like you doing into his things. You sighed and stood up again, catching the wifi router by his desk. Steve said you don’t have signal. You reached for it and saw that the back of it was ripped. Shredded.

You placed the router box back and felt suspicious about that. You left his office and limped into the living room to looked around and find something familiar to trigger something.

You turn and saw Steve slam a guy into the wall, aggressively slamming his head against the wall with full force. You gasped and blinked, almost stumbling so you catch yourself on the table, toppling a few things over.

You look back and Steve was not slamming no one into the wall. They were gone. What the hell was that? You puffed out a sigh and looked towards the table you caught yourself with and lifted the fallen frame up.

The wedding picture of you and Steve. You grin softly at the picture, seeing how happy you two were. You wished you remembered the day. But your smile faltered at the sudden picture.

Steve’s face was almost a different tone than the neck part of him. As if he plastered his own face on someone else’s. Even his shoulders were huge but the picture, he didn’t have shoulder mass.

You fixed the frame on the desk and looked over to the next photo. You and Chris at a friend’s party, he had his arm around you and your smiles were big. That one seemed normal. Maybe it’s just your eyes seeing things. You eventually relaxed and did match the card game to regain your memory.

Steve came back home an hour later, getting dinner ready for you and him. He thought having a special night, he could try and start all over. Have you get to know him more.

But your mind was on the photo. The wedding one. The unknown flash of him shoving another man’s head into the wall. It had you staring at the table, thinking. Steve peered up and furrowed his brows. “What’s going on?” He asked.

The room you two sat in, it was dimly lit. The candle at the center of the table was lit and you had a glass of wine by your plate. You look up to him as he took a bite from his food, really wondering what was up.

Could you tell him?

“The photo...” You said. Steve looks up to you in confusion, “What photo?” He continued to eat. You watched him eat, seeing his movements closely. “The wedding photo. It looked strange to me.”

Steve stops and looks up to you, his jawing tensing as he chewed. “What?” He asks. You inhaled softly and blinked up at him, “I saw you... and another man... you were bashing his head in.”

You noticed his grip on the fork got tight and he managed to laugh softly, “Sweetheart, I think your mind is making things up. But it’s okay, I can give you your pills when we go to bed.”

“No.”

Steve looks up to you, “No?” Your eyes seem to stare at his, your hands twitching out of fear. “You messed with the router... That’s why my nurse isn’t calling.”

Steve shook his head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart-”

“Don’t call me that. Who are you?” Steve was frozen now. But he chuckled, “You know who I am. I’m your husband.”

You shook your head at him. Steve stood up, his face was dark with anger. Or what you thought. You stood up as well, shaking. Steve comes around towards you, your eyes dart to the wine and you reached for it at the right time. Steve went to reach for you but you slammed the glass on his head.

The man falls on the ground and you gasped. Limping on your foot, you take your cane. Reaching for his phone in his back pocket, you ran out the door. You whimpered as you ran through the front yard, walking into the dirt that he said was gonna be a farm soon.

You look back to make sure he wasn’t following till you fell. With a yelp, you hit the ground and landed in the dirt. A shovel was beside you and you turned to see a hand sticking out of the ground. You gasped till something hits you on the side of the head.

Your eyes fluttered open to the light. You winced and Steve’s face came into your peripheral. He looked down at you, “It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart.” You don’t remember what happened. Your eyes close again and he walked up the stairs to take you to your bedroom.

Placing you down on the bed, you fully brought your vision back. He reached up to your head, “Oh, you’re bleeding. Here,” He walks into the bathroom and grabs a wet rag to wipe the blood off your forehead.

“What... What happened?” You mumbled, Steve hisses at the sight of your head. “You were running on that ankle. Hit your head when you fell. You can’t go running out like that.”

He finished off cleaning your head and he sighs. “Here, you need to take your pills.” You shook your head, “No. I don’t need them.” He pulled one out, “Don’t start. You need to take it, it can help you.” You tried to push him away but he managed to get it in your mouth and handed you the glass.

He forces you to drink it and he pulls the glass away. “There. Now get some sleep.” He helped you slip under the covers and he stood up. He pulled his shirt over his head and revealed his bare torso.

You watch him as he undoing his belt and tugged down his jeans to join you in bed. He slipped in next to you and lightly reached for your arm. Once his fingers touched your arm, you jolted causing him to sigh. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You woke up the next morning, feeling sore as always. Walking around has your ankle aching in pain as you sat up. Steve was already gone so you stood up, taking your cane in hand and headed out into the hall.

You met the stairs. You stopped. With one bad foot, it could be one bad fall. You took the risk. You stepped down and hissed, bumping your ankle on one of the steps. You grabbed the railing to hold yourself up along with your cane.

Almost there. You felt too proud of yourself and that all goes downhill when you take misstep and you fall forward. “Woah!” Steve comes around the corner and catches you in his arms. You grab his bicep and chuckled breathlessly.

“You’re up. And walking?” He says, you stable yourself on the ground floor and looked up to him, “Thank you.”

“You got to be careful with that ankle.” You furrow your brows when you see him in his leather jacket. “You’re heading out?” You asked, Steve looks down and nods. “I just need to pick up something. I’ll be back. Don’t walk around for too much.”

He kisses you once again just like yesterday, making you feel like it was a repeating day. Once the door close you looked around the home. You remembered running and you fell. You remembered everything coming back. You head for the garage.

Limping your way in, you grimaced at the smell that was in the garage. Heading over to the black car, you walked into the front seat and sat down. Looking for the keys, you came across a phone.

You stared at it and took it in hand, opening the screen you see yourself and another man. Not Steve. The man was hugging you, placing a kiss on your head.

You gasped and covered your mouth. You hear the front door open and close. “Sweetheart, I forgot something!” You hear him call. You opened the trunk thinking something can be used to defend yourself. You popped it open, making a loud beeping sound in the garage. You limped over to the back and screamed.

A man was laying in the trunk, completely loss of color. His eyes were opened, staring at you. You fell on the ground. Steve comes in and sees you on the ground. “Sweetheart, what are you doing-?” He stops when he sees the trunk open.

His eyes turned dark. Just like at the table. “I thought I told you not to go through things.”

“Who are you!” You screamed, kicking away, “Just let me go! Please!” He comes towards you and you tried to scoot back. “Please, don’t hurt me.” Steve takes both your ankles causing you to yell in pain and he grabs your waist and throws you over his shoulder.

“I thought we agreed you’d stay in the wheelchair. I trusted you,” He says. You sobbed as he carried you out of the garage. “Please, just let me go! I won’t tell anyone about this!” You plead.

He chuckles darkly, “I don’t think you have that choice, sweetheart. Not anymore.” You sob as he practically tosses you on the bed. You tried to scoot away from him, bringing your back to the bedpost. He takes your injured ankle with a grip causing you to shout in pain again.

“Please! I won’t go through anything!” He pulls out a rope and puts your ankle on the metal post. He began to tie your ankle to it. “You’re mine. I love you. You know that?” He says.

You sobbed as he ties it and walks over to pull a strand behind your ear, you flinched under his touch. Steve leans in and places a kiss on your lips. You tugged on your ankle and bit at his lip causing him to pull away with a yell.

He brings his hand to his lip, his bottom lip bled. His hand hovers over your ankle that was bound to the post, you knew what was gonna happen. “Please... don’t... I’m sorry-” You shout in pain as he grabs your ankle and tightens his grip.

You scream out and he lets go, fuming with anger, “If you continue with problems, I will decide what happens. When I come back and I see you on this bed still. Maybe I’ll consider.” He looks at you one last time before heading out the door.

You then hear the door lock on the other side.

Whimpering, you tugged your foot. Yelling in pain, you try to reach for the rope tied to the post. The knots were tight enough to not let your finger pull at them. All you could do was tug your foot.

You hear his car leave and you continued to tug your foot. The roughness of the rope dug and scraped against your skin like it was on fire. Your ankle was red enough to the harsh crash. You needed to leave this house.

You struggled more, shouting every second. You could possibly take the trail and find service somewhere and use that phone you found. You slipped it into your pocket. Steve luckily didn’t search your pockets. You felt your ankle slowly crack a few bones causing you to grip the sheets and shout. Your foot them slips out and you quickly limped over to the door.

You pulled the door and it doesn’t open. “Shit...” You look around the room and found the small bowl on the dresser. You found a hair pin and limped back over to the door.

It took you about 10 minutes to unlock it. Once it clicked, you ripped the door open and limped out, he left your cane in the garage. You didn’t need it. Right now, you needed to get out.

You rushed out of the house and stumbled into the rose bush. You pulled away and saw blood on your hand. Looking toward the rose, you saw blood. Your hand was bleeding.

You hear beeping and looked up to the front door. Above it was a camera. Steve is gonna come back. You pulled your phone out and began to lift it, rushing out to the trail.

Pushing through the brush, you pant and whimper. You tripped over a rock and hit the ground with a loud ‘oof’. You then hear a car door close. You lifted yourself up and yelped in pain when you stood on your foot.

“Y/N,” Steve’s voice sounded like a warning, “I’m not in the mood for your games.” His feet were heavy against the dirt as he rushed through the same trail he saw you go on the trail.

You limped further down the trail, “Y/N!” He roars. You sobbed quietly and slid down the hill. You hid in the leaves as his broad shoulders and blonde dark locks came into your view as he stormed further down the trail.

You stood up once he passed and turned the other trail. Stepping on a twig. “Where are you, sweetheart?” He calls. You stumble on your feet and rushed down the trail. Raising the phone up to the sky, you couldn’t run down the road for miles. You could probably call the police.

“Goddammit, Y/N!” He shouts. You come across the dock towards the lake and you were completely stuck now. You rushed over to the brush and hid. Steve’s boots hit the dock, walking down the dock. You turned to see a log by your side.

Taking it in hand, you slowly emerged from the brush and came up behind him. Going for the swing, Steve turns and catches it at mid-swing. His face darkens, with a tug, it jerked you and you fell into the lake.

You feel yourself sink further as it got colder the more you sunk. You tried to swing up but you couldn’t. You see his silhouette at the surface staring down. You watched his figure disappear off the dock, walking away. You saw the bubbles float around you and up.

You then closed your eyes and choked on the water.

You gasped for air and rose from the tub, slightly choking and you looked around. “Y/N?” Someone called, you jumped when they entered the bathroom and looked at you.

“You okay?” They asked. You blew out a exhale and nodded, “Yeah... sorry.” He shook his head, “It’s okay. Maybe consider taking a shower instead?” He slightly jokes, you tried to smile.

He turns away till you slightly rose, “Steve?” He peaks his head around, “Yeah?” He asks. You swallowed thickly and grinned softly. “Could you maybe pour me wine when I get out?” Steve looks down at the ground and softly nodded.

“Of course. I’ll cook dinner, too.” You nodded and he gave you a grin. “Okay. Love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too...”

~~~

Oh man... Dark fics are not good for me. Would I even consider this a Dark fic?

Also no part 2 cause nah. I suck with Dark Fics

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

The Stars Made Us (Part 21)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge – You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 1911

Warnings: angst and language throughout

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @dontshootmespence, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong and @arrow-guy and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mordo began escorting you around, giving you a tour of the grounds.

“And that’s all,” he said as he turned around to face you two. “Now, at Kamar-Taj, we don’t allow distractions. That means that you will have to take refuge somewhere else.”

You frowned, looking between Stephen and Mordo. “Oh, I thought I could stay. I’m pretty far from home.”

“I realize that but here is a sacred area for study, training.”

“Well I just thought… Stephen’s all alone. I think he’d be much better suited if I was here, with him.” Panic started to course through you as you instinctively moved closer to Stephen.

“I’m sorry it’s just--”

“Can she really not stay?” Stephen suddenly asked. “The Ancient One already said she has a disposition for the mystic arts. Maybe she can help me with my study and training.”

Mordo began shaking his head. “I wish I could but--”

“Master Mordo, is our new recruit already causing difficulty?” the Ancient one asked as she stepped up to the three of you.

“Uh, Stephen and Y/N here would like to stay together on site. I have been insisting that unless they are both enrolled in the training, that they can’t both stay.”

The Ancient One nodded. “While it is true that we don’t advise distractions, I think in this case, Y/N here will be an asset. Soulmates are a very sacred and spiritual bond, something that I think Mr. Strange will need.”

“Are you sure?” Mordo asked, frowning. Clearly he believed you would not be a benefit.

“Yes,” she said as she looked at you and Stephen. “Welcome to Kamar-Taj.”

And off she went before Mordo showed you to your living quarters.

“Bathe, rest, meditate if you can. The Ancient One will send for you,” he instructed as lit a candle as he handed Stephen a small slip of paper.

“Uh, what’s this? My mantra?” he joked sarcastically.

“The Wi-Fi password. We’re not savages,” he said with a grin before leaving.

You and Stephen were now alone, and painfully aware of the quaint quarters of the single sized bed, a small chest of drawers, and a desk with a lamp. You never stayed the night at Stephen’s, and other than helping him shower, neither of you had done anything remotely romantic or physical.

But now, it was staring you in the face that you’d have to share a bed and live in a room as big as his walk in closet.

“So,” you said, dragging it out.

“So, uh, yeah, one bed,” he noted, gesturing vaguely to it.

“You know, I can just sleep on the floor.”

“That's preposterous,” he scoffed.

“Well, you’re the one in actual training. You’re the one with the damaged hands,” you reminded. “You need the real rest.”

“We could always… share.”

“Share?”

“Yes, soulmates share everything, right?” he asked with a bit of a cocky smile.

You let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, I suppose they do.” You put your suitcase on the bed and said, “Well, you relax, I’ll unpack us.”

He walked over and started pulling things from the suitcase, making you frown. “We can unpack. I have nerve damage, I’m not dead.”

A half smile lit up your face as you worked with him to get your clothes put away and you got your laptop out and connected it to the wifi. You sent an email to Charles to update him while Stephen got a bath.

The Ancient One retrieved him and you stood awkwardly in the room.

“Should I come with you two or…?” you asked unsure what to do while Stephen went onto this training.

“Mr. Strange should be alone for his training, but you’re welcome to explore the grounds or go to the library,” she responded with a soft smile.

“Thank you.”

“Be back,” Stephen said with a bit of a small smile. You nodded and they left.

You took up the Ancient One’s offer to explore. You got to learn the building you were in very well before Stephen ran into you in the hallway. You two got some dinner on the grounds, even though it was very late. There was a small kitchen that stayed open until midnight and they cooked small meals for people.

When you were finished, you went back to the small room where again, suddenly the tight quarters made you hyper aware of the situation.

“Uh, guess we should start getting ready for bed,” you said awkwardly.

Stephen raised his eyebrows in response. “Yes, I suppose we should.”

“Well, I’ll just… grab my stuff,” you said quickly before grabbing your things from the drawer and running into the bathroom.

This felt so odd. In one sense, it felt absolutely right. He was your soulmate after all. In another sense, it felt bizarre. Like an arranged marriage. Maybe Stephen was right about being “forced” to be with someone.

But, despite the awkwardness, you did feel attracted to Stephen. Although you’d only seen the unkempt version of him, you were attracted to his body style, his arms. You’d seen him entirely naked, but when you saw him that way, it was strictly clinical. Sex or physical attraction was the absolute last thing on your mind.

But now, the stakes were different. You weren’t his nurse anymore. You weren’t his cook any more. For right now, you were his companion. All of the other roles were stripped away. In this little room, you two were just two soulmates.

His wit and intellect helped too. You were a bit of a pushover for a guy with charm, arrogance, and a genius mind to back it all up.

You slipped into your shirt and shorts before taking a deep breath and exiting the bathroom. Stepehen was already under the covers, his eyes fixated on you as you walked over and put your clothes in a pile beside the bed. He was propped up on his elbow.

Without making much of a fuss, you just drew back the covers and got into bed, laying on your back. You stared at the ceiling.

“Is this uncomfortable for you?” he asked, clearly not fazed by the situation.

“No,” you managed to say, shaking your head.

“Is Charles okay with this?” he asked.

“Yes, he said I’m not his property and I can do whatever I please.”

He nodded in surprise. “Wow, quite the free spirit.”

“Understanding,” you corrected. “But enough about that. How was your first day? Did you learn anything?” you asked as you rolled to face him.

“Not much, but it’ll take time. I was given some homework, some light reading.” He gestured to the three books on the desk.

“Ah so just some pamphlets,” you joked back.

“Right. I’ll have them read in no time though. I’ll start at dawn.”

“Nothing determined about you,” you teased.

“You don’t become the world’s leading neurosurgeon because you’re a slacker,” he shot back.

You simply nodded in understanding. “I’m glad you stayed. I’m happy you’re doing this.”

This time, it was his turn to nod. His eyes went down to the sheets. “Not that I have much choice, but thank you.”

After a moment of quiet, you had a thought swimming in your head. “The watch… who gave it to you?” you asked.

“Jealous?”

“No,” you honestly answered. “Curious.”

“Christine,” he answered.

“Ah. Do you still love her?”

“A bit, yes, but, not enough for a relationship. We’re better as friends.”

“You don’t have to try and convince me, Stephen. If you still love her, that’s fine. I won’t come between you two.”

“First of all, I don’t lie to protect anyone, ever, so remember that. Secondly, I don’t love her like that, that’s true. Third, I never said I don’t want you to come between us.”

A heat rose to your cheeks quickly. This was the closest thing to romance Stephen had said to you. Sure he made a few nice comments here or there, but ultimately, they were more polite than anything.

“Right,” you said. “I’m sorry about your watch, about earlier. I wish I could’ve helped. I should’ve hit harder.”

“Do you always do that? Take the blame for someone else’s actions?”

You let out a soft chuckle. “Uh, I didn’t realize I did it. Um, I suppose, yes.”

“Must be a heavy burden to carry around all the time.”

You shrugged. “Not really.”

Stephen stared at you and you at him, both of you getting lost in each other's eyes. You never noticed how blue-gray his eyes were, how haunting they were. They held a mystery to them as well as a certain… tenderness.

“You’re going to do great here,” you suddenly said.

“Oh? How do you know that? Do you have a crystal ball? Or, no, wait, you’re psychic, that’s what the Ancient One was talking about, is that it?” he joked, laughing loudly.

You pushed him while laughing. “Okay, jackass. No, you’re a fantastic surgeon. Regardless of why you do your work, you must’ve done it very well for the paycheck you were getting. To be speaking at conventions and conferences. You love your job and this will get it back for you, so I know you’ll put your heart and soul into it.”

He looked down. “I do it because… because my sister was hurt once when I was fifteen. I helped her and I became fascinated with this idea of healing. But then, when I came home for my 19th birthday, we were swimming together and… she drowned. Doctors said her muscle cramped up and she couldn’t stay afloat. It seemed like i was only turned around for a minute, but I guess a minute was all it took.”

You frowned, feeling a wave of sympathy and sorrow wash over you. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks. Yeah, after that, medicine didn’t hold the same wonderful mystique about it. But I also became determined to save lives. It just wasn’t personal any more. If I couldn’t save her…” He let the idea hang in the air. “It’s just not good to get invested in your patients, because if they don’t make it…”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Now it all made sense. He was terrified to get close to patients, to love people. He’d known loss, and didn’t want to experience it again, and to be honest, you didn’t blame him.

“I am so sorry you’ve had to go through that.”

He shrugged. “We’ve all had hardships, right?”

“Doesn’t make them any less heartbreaking.”

“You must think I’m an asshole, though. That my concern with the patients starts and ends with the bill.”

“I don’t think you see patients as a number, or a check waiting to be cashed. I think you just don’t emotionally involve yourself. Even if you did, what would it help? Clearly, not involving yourself has still got you world wide success and being known as one of the top surgeons in your field. So, motives aside, you do your job and do your job well. As a patient, that’s all I would care about.”

“And what about as a person? As a soulmate?” he asked, his voice low.

“My answer is the same.”

He smiled at you, touched by your answer. “There I go, underestimating you again.”

You smiled and laughed before the two of you drifted off to sleep, exhausted from a long day. But for the first time Stephen could remember, he slept soundly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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2018shawn · 4 years

Note

3 and 12 from fluff with Shawn!!!

“Have you seen my hoodie?” “Noo.” “You’re wearing it, aren’t you?”

“Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

a/n + warnings: hi hello I actually don't really know if I like this but hey HO. the part in italics are flashbacks!!! love u all!! request from here!!

It was a strange feeling for Shawn - you going away and him being the one at home, pining for you to return. It was usually him travelling the world and coming home to call you straight away, begging you to come over. You weren’t an official couple and hadn’t even had the conversation with each other yet, but other people knew you was his and he was yours; nothing more needed to be said.

"Was your flight okay?” Shawn asked, holding the phone to his ear by pushing his shoulder up to his cheek. He carried his guitar in one hand and fiddled with his keys in the other, until he found the key to his condo.

You could hear him struggling over the phone, laughing to yourself as you flopped onto your hotel room, king sized bed. “It was okay. The most creepiest, sugar daddy kind of guy was sat next to me on the plane. He asked if I wanted to go out with him one night, seeing as we’re both staying in London.”

Shawn’s jaw tensed at your story as he placed his guitar bag down on the floor, kicking the door shut with his foot before disabling the alarm system. You could hear the secure beeps all the way from London. “I hope you told him...” Shawn had to stop himself, remembering that he officially couldn't really say anything, although that almost killed him. “That you’re a lesbian?”

You chuckled uncontrollably at his response, almost feeling giddy that he didn’t want you to go out with another guy. “Not quite, but I told him I’m a one man kinda girl...”

“Oh?” Shawn asked, taking his bottom lip in-between his teeth as he bounced up the stairs, heading straight to his office to load up his computer. He knew you were into him, that was obvious, but he’d never heard you turn anyone down for him before.

“Yep,” You started, popping the p, “so my boyfriend will happy that I shot him down.”

“Oh, your boyfriend?” He asked, raising his eyebrows, not that you could see him.

“Yeah, you really think I'm here with work?” Shawn laughed down the phone, relieving you that he knew it was all a joke, “nah, I'm kidding no one wants to wife me up.”

“We’ll discuss that when you’re home.” He stated, with a hint of dominance lacing his words that only made you feel like a little girl with her first crush. You weren’t sure if the feelings he gave you would ever dissipate, but you hoped not. “Oh, also, question...” he started, slumping into his desk chair and spinning around as he waited for the computer to load up. “Have you seen my hoodie?” You pulled your lips together, keeping quiet as he continued, “you know the grey Saint Laurent one? I don't know if I left it at yours before you left?”

The strings of said hoodie were currently wrapped around your finger, being twirled as you wondered what you were going to tell him. You hadn’t exactly stolen it, he was the one that carelessly left it and surely boys should know, it is the ultimate mission for a girl to steal their (almost) boyfriend’s favourite jumper. “Noo.” you replied, holding out the last syllable.

“You’re wearing it, aren’t you?” He smiled to himself, not remotely annoyed but more warm and fuzzy. He fiddled with the computer, putting you on loudspeaker so he could multitask - which men couldn’t do very well at the best of times.

“No? What would make you say that?” You knew you didn’t sound confident in your answer, but that’s because you were well and truly lying.

“Because you can’t lie for shit,” he laughed, “I’m hanging up now, FaceTiming you on the Mac because my phone’s gonna die.” Before you had chance to reply, the line went dead and your phone was ringing again, the FaceTime ringtone filling the echoing hotel room.

“Okay fine, I'm wearing it.” You laughed as you answered, holding the phone above your face, instantly trying to fix you appearance. You looked like shit, really, you’d just been on an 7 hour flight and you were extremely exhausted, but he didn’t think you looked bad at all. He thought you looked incredible, actually. He loved the way your hair was still in their loose curls, contrasting against the white pillows of the hotel bed, and the way your freckles were on show due to being make up free.

“I’ll let you off this once, but only because it looks better on you than it does me.” He said, raising his eyebrows and nodding at you through the camera. You admired him in all his beauty; leant back in the leather office chair, curls crazy from his long day but smile still as bright as ever. You made yourself feel sick at the thought of missing him already; you weren’t the type to pine after boys, especially when they’re not even classed as your boyfriend yet. But wherever Shawn was, home was. He took a moment to admire you too, and although you admittedly looked tired from the journey, he basically turned into the heart-eye emoji and wanted to put you on a flight back home already.

Both of you, of course, were too stubborn to tell one another this.

“What time is it there, like 11:30?” Shawn asked, looking at his watch for reference of his own time zone.

You knew you should try sleep and wake up so you weren’t as tired in the morning, but when you worked out the time difference in your head, you’d only just be finishing work and getting ready for your evening routine back home. So instead, you readjusted yourself on the bed, laying on your stomach with your phone held up in front of your face. “Mmhmmm, so that means it’s 4:30 there?”

Shawn’s face screwed up, looking at you like you’d just asked him to work out some algebra. “I thought you was supposed to be clever?”

“Hey! I am clever” You puffed, flipping him your middle finger.

“Babe, it’s 6:30; you’re 5 hours ahead not 7.” He picked his phone up off the desk, the screen automatically illuminating as he raised it to the lens of the computer. He flashed you the screen, the image just clear enough for you to make out, no thanks to the hotel’s crappy wifi. “See, 6:30.”

You went silent, for once in your life not bothering to argue or come back with some smart arse comment. You’d seen his lock screen, although the time covered a tiny area of it, the picture was familiar enough that you recognised it.

Your feet padded across the carpeted floor of Shawn’s bedroom and although you tried your hardest to be quiet, you’d still manage to wake Shawn, who rolled over in bed and shot upright when he noticed you weren’t there. “Can I steal a t-shirt? I don't wanna make breakfast in last nights dress,” you laughed awkwardly. It was the fifth time you’d stayed over at Shawn’s, and you told yourself the night before you’d have enough willpower to not go home with him. You wanted to keep him on his toes and make sure he didn’t think you’d fall at his feet every time he flashed his stupidly handsome smile. Obviously, it didn’t work and you were now naked in his bedroom, nothing but your clubbing dress to cover your body.

“Of course, take your pick.” He admired you from where he lay, phone in his hand as he silenced all the incoming texts and calls. You let your fingers drag across the material of his tee’s, sliding open a couple of drawers, expecting something to jump out at you. Knowing you, you’d end up picking his most expensive t-shirt and spilling coffee down it or something. Your eyes caught glimpse of a sports top, cobalt blue with some sporty logo’s on the front and you thought that would be ample. Anything was ample compared to your lingerie clad body, which you suddenly didn’t feel so confident in now the alcohol had worn off.

As if Shawn wasn’t hard enough this morning, after sleeping with your ass pushing into him all night, his cock twitched when the t-shirt draped over your shoulders. And he thinks that’s when he knew he was falling deep. He swipped up on his phone, the camera app loading and focusing on the image in front of him.

His personalised jersey, his last name printed above the numbers on the back, looked perfect on you, even more so when you reached up to hang the hanger back on the rail and your white lace panties peeked out from underneath, and he wanted to be reminded of it every time he picked up his phone. He was caught out when the flash went off, and your cheeks flushed a deep red, running over and trying to steal to phone off him. “No, let me keep it!” he whined, telling you it’s for his eyes only. “plus it suits you!”

You hid your face in the crook of his neck, mumbling into his skin, “it’s a jersey, it suits everyone.”

“I meant the name.”

You were grinning to yourself, butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. “Am I your lockscreen?”

His eyes widened, looking at his phone and then back up to the camera. He felt like an embarrassed teenager; like how you’d feel when your best friend would tell the person you like, that you like them and the rest of the class would tease you for it. Or when you had your first kiss and everyone wolf whistled and it became the talk of the school. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

-----

taglist: @imaginashawnns @fallinallincurls

#Shawn mendes #Shawn mendes blurb #Shawn mendes imagine #Shawn mendes oneshot #dee's SM blurbing

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matsumi101 · 4 years

Note

For the promts, maybe 367 with Maria Reynolds, modern au?

367. “I didn’t think love existed until I started loving you”

Notes:

> Reader x Maria Reynolds Modern AU

> Anon i love u for this do u know how giddy i am when i wrote the last part hnngh

> Fem!Reader I hope u guys don’t mind some (not so) wholesome lesbeans

> WIFI ANG GOOGLE DOCS HAS BEEN AN ASS IVE BEEN TRYING TO FIX THE ONESHOT BC IT KEPT GETTING PASTED OUT OF ORDER HNNGH

Type: fluff

Warnings: domestic abuse mention, implied sex

-------------------

“Your Honor, the members of the jury find the defendant... guilty.”

You gave a low whistle while the Judge gave the final words, putting up a hand to return your co-counsel’s high-five without even having to look at him. Your smug grin never left your face even after the court was adjourned, only breaking into a more hyper celebration once you were out of the building.

“Fuck yeah, we deserve to celebrate!”

You laughed in agreement. “I couldn’t have pulled this off without you, Alex,” you sighed. Alexander simpered, taking the compliment very well. “Well, what can I say? I’m always up for the challenging ones.” He shrugged his shoulders, pride oozing out of his presence. You couldn’t blame him, though. You were an excellent public attorney par with even Alexander Hamilton himself, but this case had you on your toes for months, even with Alexander’s help, and the outcome was well worth the sleepless nights you shared with your friend.

The topic returned to the celebration. “We should invite everyone to me and Eliza’s place and throw a party because damn we deserve it,” Alexander suggested. You hummed thoughtfully at his offer for a bit before responding. “I’d love that, but can we move that a little later? I wanna celebrate alone with Maria, first,” you pointed out. Alexander pulled an all too knowing smirk, to which you rolled your eyes at.

“I haven’t given her much attention ever since this case came, and I’m sure Eliza’s in the same situation. Our own partners deserve to be pampered after all of this, don’t you think?”

“My Eliza’s fine-”

“Hamilton.”

You crossed your arms and raised a brow at your friend. “Let Eliza share the victory with you, I’m sure she’d be thrilled to listen about how your hard work paid off,” you reasoned out. “And besides, it’s the closest I’ll get to apologizing for stealing you away from her for months.” Alexander laughed at that, getting your point. He pulled out his phone, most likely to share the great news to his fiancé.

“Let’s have the big celebration next weekend, yeah?”

You could tell from the eagerness in his voice that he was excited to come home and spend time with Eliza. “Perfect,” you agreed. You were about to bid farewell, but Alexander was already in call with Eliza and chatting away with unprecedented joy. You chuckled at him and went to your car, dialing a number while you started the engine. It rang a few times before it was picked up.

“Hello?”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Washington! Is Maria Reynolds still at work?”

“Oh, Miss Y/N! It’s always a pleasure to talk to you.”

You smiled at this. Martha had always been a caring boss, which is why you recommended Maria to her business when she was looking for a new job. You placed your phone on the holder at the dashboard and set it to speaker while you pulled out of the parking lot. “Maria’s still here, why’d you ask?” Martha asked sweetly. Your smile grew into a more excited one, your plans already playing out in your mind.

“Well you see, I plan to surprise her tonight with her favorite food because I won what probably is my biggest case to date.” Martha gasped and gave you a quick congratulations. “But I still have to buy the things I need. Can you stall her for me? I just need an extra two hours.”

There was a thoughtful pause at the other end of the line. You took your eyes off the road for a split second to check if the call was still ongoing, which it was. “Dear, as romantic as your plan sounds, I don’t think Maria would like being cooped up here for so long,” Martha sighed. “She’s been stressed for the past months, and I don’t think she’s taking your disappearance so well lately, to top off the work she needs to finish today...” Your heart sank at the information. Yes, you were more than aware that you’d been neglecting Maria over the case, more than you’d like, and even if she was understanding enough that you needed to prioritize your slowly rising career, you knew there were unavoidable insecurities that followed her wake.

“I’m going to make it up to her,” you replied, voice steady. “I’m going to smother her with attention for the weeks to come ‘til she gets sick of me.”

Martha laughed heartily at your determination. “So please, can you help me out and give me two hours? I promise It’ll all be worth it,” you pleaded. It didn’t take as long for Martha to answer. “Okay, but I want to see Maria coming to work next Tuesday with an honest smile. I miss seeing her so positive.” You beamed gratefully, even though she couldn’t see it. “You’re giving her a long weekend off?” you asked almost too happily.

“Aside from letting her spend time with her favorite woman, I’m sure she deserves the rest for working so hard the past months.”

“Oh Martha, thank you so much! I owe you a lot.”

Any semblance of formalities melted away. “Oh dear, you know I’m a sucker for romantic gestures! I’ll make sure she tells me everything about your night when she gets back to work,” she teased. You giggled, excitement crawling up your body by the minute. You ended the call and finished your groceries as fast as you could, and by the time you got back to your shared apartment the sun was just starting to set. Perfect, you thought. You had more time than anticipated, but you were sure to utilize every second and got to work.

After a dragging day at work, Maria finally found her way back home. She was stuck in the office for a good two hours past her supposed time out due to Martha’s unexpected request to finish some extra paperwork. She would’ve declined it, but the offer of getting a paid day off in return was too good to miss out that even an extra hour long traffic didn’t stop her. She was far too exhausted, both mental and physical, to think of anything else but to crash into the soft sheets of her bed despite her empty stomach begging to be filled up. When she got to her apartment’s door, however, she couldn’t help but stop and look at it.

She didn’t know that today was the day you’d bring the case to the court one last time for a verdict, so all she expected was to come home to an empty apartment, and despite everything still in the same place it felt more barren the past few months. And yet, as she unlocked the door and flicked the lights on, she was greeted with not only a noticeably cleaner living room but also a delectable smell wafting through her nose. It caused her stomach to growl again, and with the new smell filling the place she dropped her bag and headed to the kitchen.

“You’re home!”

Maria’s eyes popped out at the sight. There you were in your sweatpants and loose shirt, sitting across the table with your hand resting atop your intertwined fingers. A large grin splayed across your face, which grew even wider at the sight of her. The table was set up with two plates, a bottle of wine and whiskey (a strange combo, Maria thought), about three dishes, and a bowl of soup accompanied by a smaller bowl of croutons. The food before her was definitely made presentable, and if Maria wasn’t too occupied gawking (and maybe drooling a little) she would’ve pointed out how your outfit didn’t even match up to the setting.

“We won the case,” you told her, your voice laced with softness and excitement.

Maria had to compose herself just enough to answer. “Really?” she squeaked out. She was happy beyond words, both for your success and you finally being there to greet her home for once and having done this seemingly large dinner after months of surviving on leftovers in the fridge and take-outs. You nodded, watching her expression with a smile, but it quickly dropped when you saw her starting to cry. Alarmed, you got off your seat and pulled her to a tight embrace, to which she eagerly returned, taking in the faint scent of the soap you used for your bath. You planted a long kiss on the crown of her head, and the gesture only seemed to make her cry more.

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

And there she poured everything out. She missed coming home to your arms every night, but ever since the case you were always either gone in the office at work or holed up in the one at home. The thought made her disappointed, and maybe with a twinge of anger and paranoia, but she had to hold it back. She knew how much work meant to you, and she admired how passionate you were for it. She tried her best not to think too much of it, but the fear of you growing cold towards her scared her to no end, admitting that the effects of her past relationship with James was still affecting her.

You didn’t speak the whole time and let Maria vent it out until she reduced into quiet sobs. You kissed her forehead before pulling away from the hug so you could meet her eye to eye. “I know I’ve been so busy, which is why I’m going to make up for it,” you whispered soothingly. You cupped her face and gently wiped the tears away with your thumbs, and you could see a smile slowly grace her lips that made your heart melt. You then peppered her with short, sweet kisses all over her face, which made her giggle and squirm.

“I missed you so much, Y/N.”

“I missed you too, but I’m not going to let you have dinner with such an uncomfortable outfit.”

Maria followed your eyes to her office attire. “I drew you a hot bath just a few minutes ago, with lots of lavender from our mini garden,” you told her softly, pulling her by the waist and kissing her cheek. Gosh, you missed her so much. Maria sighed as you nuzzled your face on the crook of her neck, already imagining the beautiful smell of the bathroom awaiting her. Unfortunately, she had to pull away from the hug so she could actually get there.

After Maria took her time in a relaxing bath and changed to her own comfortable clothes, you two spent the night together, savoring the full course dinner you made with both of your favorite foods and hers, then surprising her with strawberry mousse, her favorite, for dessert. After that, and an empty bottle of wine, you two went to the couch to cuddle and watch a movie together. Though the film on the television was soon forgotten when you kept on showering Maria with kisses and compliments. Even if she asked you to stop since she genuinely wanted to watch the movie, you only replied to her with,

“Nah, I’m going to spoil you the whole weekend, and for the following weeks to come.”

And you did just that. Your attention was all on Maria day and night, and her heart could never feel so full at the sight of you. You took care of her and she took care of you, too. Of course you respected her boundaries and remained gentle with how you held her, but she knew that with you she was safe. Her initial fears of abandonment were soon thrown out the window. Maria trusted you more than ever, and you made sure to show her that she would never regret that choice.

Maria sighed wistfully, stroking your hair as she stared at the wall. The heavy drapes were drawn shut, preventing the moonlight from entering the dark bedroom. You were nestled on her bare chest, sleeping soundly while you had your arms wrapped protectively around her waist. A smile adorned your lips, and Maria took notice of it when she looked down at you.

You were at peace, contrast to the tired and frustrated expression you constantly seemed to wear while you were working the past months. Your breaths were slow and relaxed, making Maria hold a smile of her own as she studied your features. She brought a hand to your face, and you subconsciously leaned against her touch. She caressed your cheek with a thumb, her gaze trailing over to the bags under your eyes. Without your makeup, it looked much worse, but Maria didn’t care. She loved everything about you, even those eyebags that carried all the success you worked for, and she never felt luckier for having such a caring and passionate girlfriend as you.

“Oh Y/N,” Maria sighed for the nth time that night. “I didn’t think love existed until I started loving you.”

You barely stifled your amused chuckle, making Maria jump slightly at the vibration. “I’m glad to be the one to make you realize that,” you murmured, opening your eyes and ignoring the noise of surprise that she made when you let it be known that you were still awake. You shifted so that you could fully look at Maria. It was dark, but you could still make out her wide eyes that slowly softened. Her hand was still pressed to your face, so you put your own on top of it and moved to gently kiss her palm.

“And you deserve every bit of love, sweetheart.”

The way you said it so sincerely just made Maria absolutely melt, even more so when you pulled up to give her a long, tender kiss. Her hands wandered you, fingers trailing the marks she left on your skin before a hand made its way to your bare back while the other tangled on your already messy hair. When you backed away to breathe, you gave Maria one last peck on the lips before lying on her side and pulling her close.

“You know babe, seeing you like this makes me want to look forward to more of your difficult cases.” Maria laughed when you tiredly groaned in annoyance.

“No. If the next one is anything like the last I’m shoving it to either Alexander or Jefferson. I missed you too much.”

#hamilton #hamilton musical #reader insert #hamilton reader insert #maria reynolds #maria reynolds x reader #hamilton x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #hamilton fanfic #hamilton fanfiction #my wifi has been an ass istg it's making the parts all messed up

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green-eyed-whumpster · 3 years

Text

My OC Universe: Rowan 97

Chapter 97 Summary: Everything’s okay now, and it ends, if I may say so in my very biased opinion, very sweetly. (Tags: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @much-ado-about-whumping, @abitefullofeverything, @whump-me-all-night-long, @sky-or-something-idfk and @tears-and-lilies)

Trigger Warnings: Nup! This is just sweet, but Rowan still has PTSD. But, you know, Olivia.

Rowan sat against the side of the cottage and swallowed the sobs that were threatening to break through his chest. The day had begun so well, Peter wasn’t mad at him for Olivia being on the bed, and he was allowed to go into a town, and he enjoyed the markets. And it went downhill so quickly. He didn’t know why he felt so afraid when he thought of his father, he had wanted this, some dreams would focus on him coming back and being remorseful, but now that it had happened, panic swelled in his chest at the very thought of it.

He could hear the muffled voices of Cordelia and Peter through the wall, if he strained, he could even make out what they were saying. But it made him sick to listen. He knew they were talking about him, blaming themselves for him being upset, scolding each other for arguing in front of him, wondering how badly they had affected him. He hated how much of their attention he already took up; let alone how long they would dwell on this.

“I can’t believe I called him a victim in front of his face.” Cordelia muttered, she was leaning against the benchtop, her voice was clearer. “As if he needed any other reason to feel guilty.”

“What about me?” Peter groaned, he was pacing, every sentence was stronger in a different ear as he passed back and forth across the floor. “Gods, to be sarcastic about that? How must he feel, hearing me speak so nonchalantly about him being abused?”

That’s nothing to what I’ve heard.

Rowan didn’t want to listen; he didn’t want his friends to feel ashamed at the way they had been treating him. They had done so much for him that they were deserved an outburst occasionally, he didn’t have to worry about them abusing him, hurting him the way he had been hurt, so it didn’t matter as much if sometimes they snapped at him. Only, they didn’t snap at him, they became upset with each other, instead. He’d rather they didn’t fight. He could handle abuse; he didn’t like it when anger was directed at others.

He never found the energy to move, though. And, even if he did eventually, Olivia had fallen asleep beside him, with her chin resting upon his thigh. He didn’t have the heart to move, even if he had desired to strongly enough.

He didn’t even notice that the sun was setting, and slowly a blue haze was lowering over the familiar clearing. The only notice of it was the chill that settled with it, clinging to the hairs of his arms and tugging. He realised suddenly that the sounds from inside had quieted, they were no longer talking so loudly, every once in a while there would be a soft mumble, and an equally-quiet response, but Rowan couldn’t ever make out what was said despite straining.

Rowan had leant his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, blocking out the world for a while. It was nice, just letting his mind wander for a while. Never too long, though, because somehow it would inevitably find its way back to the trail of William, or what had happened, and he didn’t have the energy anymore to struggle with that anymore. The only movement was his hand, softly stroking Olivia’s skull, content with her heavy breaths on his leg.

“Rowan?”

The voice sounded in his ears and he was drawn slowly from his meditation.

Oh, Peter, I hope he and Cordelia aren’t upset anymore. I never liked conflict, and they remind me of William and Maria. And when Maria upset William he always took it out on me.

He realised that Peter’s voice had grown worried and finally opened his eyes, realising it was dark, only a glimmer of light coming from the window above him.

“Rowan? Where are you?” Suddenly Peter rounded the corner and sighed in obvious relief.

“Oh, Rowan,” He breathed, walking over to him and kneeling on the grass before him. “I was worried you had run away somewhere and had gotten lost, or hurt again.” He said and Rowan shook his head shamefully.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” He muttered, looking down.

“No, don’t apologise –“ Peter reached out and hesitated, pulling his hand back again sheepishly. “It’s been a while, I was just afraid that I had left you alone, and that during that time you were hurt or scared and I hadn’t even noticed.” He answered. “Are you feeling all right now?” Rowan nodded slightly and glanced up again.

“Are you and Cordelia still fighting?” He asked and Peter scoffed softly.

“No, realising we were hurting you kind of put a stop to all of that,” He admitted. “We spoke a bit more about what had happened, but we made sure to stay civil.”

“That makes me feel a bit better,” Rowan muttered and Peter smiled at him.

“Well, that’s good, will you come inside now? It’s cold out here, wouldn’t you like something to eat?” Rowan nodded slightly and accepted the hand Peter offered to him to help him up.

“Thank you,” He said as he rested on his feet again and wavered slightly.

“Are you all right?” Peter asked.

“Yeah, I-I’ve just been sitting down a long while,” Rowan said with embarrassment. “I’m fine, though.” He began walking first, making his way back around the house to the steps.

“I put your things on your bed,” Peter said gently. “I really…I really am sorry for being so callous, I should have been able to control my temper, it’s just, Cordelia and I just care a lot about you but we have different ways of worrying, and so we clashed.” Rowan looked at him from the corner of his eye and blushed.

“Do you two really care so much about me?” He asked softly, almost inaudibly.

“We do.” Peter responded earnestly. “Of course we do. You haven’t had many people who truly cared for you, and we want to make sure that, no matter what, you always know that we do want to look after you and make sure that you understand that people do exist in the world who think you’re worth more than everyone else claims you are.”

Peter shouldn’t have been surprised that Rowan burst into tears at saying that but he somehow was, and became almost as distressed as Rowan clearly was.

“I really care about-about you, too!” The boy squeaked through his sobs and threw his arms around Peter’s neck, pulling himself against Peter far more intimately than the man was expecting.

“Oh, it’s all right, Rowan,” He said softly, rubbing Rowan’s back with one hand while he placed his other on the boy’s shoulder. “I-I know you care,” He took a step back but Rowan shook his head vehemently.

“No! I-I want to stay here a while longer!” He hiccupped and curled closer.

“Can we go inside, at least?”

“I really don’t want to let go,” Rowan murmured. “I’m sorry, but can I stay here a little longer?”

“Would you mind if I picked you up, then?” Peter asked gently and Rowan flushed.

“N-no,”

He squeaked when Peter’s hands moved to his legs and picked him up, manoeuvring so Rowan’s legs wrapped around Peter’s waist. After a moment he seemed to settle and Peter felt him relax remarkably into the embrace. He fit far too easily against Peter, and it made his chest ache slightly.

“Are you all right?” He asked and Rowan nodded, in his advanced height his face rested against Peter’s shoulder and he felt the boy’s nose rest against his neck. “Good, now we definitely have to get you inside because you don’t weigh anywhere near enough.” He was happy to hear a small giggle come from the boy.

“I think this is the most I’ve ever weighed.” He muttered and Peter let out a surprised chuckle.

“Have you ever made a joke to me before?” He asked as he pushed open the door.

“I don’t know,” Rowan whispered. “I can’t remember.”

Cordelia looked at the creature that came through the door, followed by Olivia.

“Putting a spin on the beast-with-two-backs?” She commented sarcastically.

“He won’t get that joke, Delia, you wasted your wit.” Peter replied. “Come here, Rowan doesn’t know how to properly convey his emotions so we’re going to hug it out.” She chuckled at the notion and obliged, moving from where she was at the sink and standing in front of where Rowan’s back was at her chest.

“I don’t like not knowing what you guys are talking about,” Rowan murmured dejectedly and the pair chuckled as Cordelia finally closed the difference and hugged Rowan’s back, arms reaching Peter’s ribs.

“I like this.”

Rowan’s voice was weak as he felt Cordelia’s chest against his back. It was the strangest embrace he had ever been in, but it was one of the nicest. Maybe because there was no way William would have ever had the confidence to do something so strange.

#whump #medieval whump #my writing #oc #Rowan #Olivia #Peter #Cordelia #PTSD whumpee #therapy dog #also if you get the beast with two backs joke be my friend

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shireness-says · 4 years

Text

skating in circles (with no way to stop)

Summary: Anne Elliot likes her life just the way it is. The last thing she needs is her handsome, charming, professional hockey player ex... something to show up during lockdown and prove just how wrong she is about that. ~7.9K. Rated T for language. Also on AO3.

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A/N: For @welllpthisishappening, who is going a little stir-crazy during the NHL break. Also because it is absolutely her fault I ever thought “What would a hockey-flavored Persuasion AU look like?”

Special thanks to @snidgetsafan for her beta skills. Any mistakes, hockey-type or otherwise, are absolutely my own.

Tagging the potentially interested parties: @profdanglaisstuff, @thisonesatellite, @ohmightydevviepuu, @thejollyroger-writer, @snowbellewells.

Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

Social distancing almost doesn’t seem so bad in weather like this, the snow outside Anne’s window falling in huge flakes more furiously each second. Weather like this is designed for staying inside, curled up in an armchair with a cup of tea and a soft knitted afghan. It’s almost enough to soothe the little voice in her head that chides her for not working; there’s genuinely little for Anne to do from home as a school nurse, beyond writing and filing the reports she usually puts off until the end of the year, but that doesn’t stop her from feeling guilty at not doing more. Even if she isn’t expected to. Even if she is actually supposed to bunker down.

It’s been odd, adjusting to a life of jigsaw puzzles and overly involved embroidery projects and all the books she swore she’d read two years ago and never did. Hell, she’s even taken up online archiving projects after an old friend from school sent her a link, just for something to do. Her social life hasn’t particularly suffered; she’s a transplant to this town, anyways, drawn back by the memories of one beautiful, peaceful year, only really meeting with folks from work or her old roommate, and infrequently at that. Every few days, she’ll go through the motions of calling her sister Mary just so the younger woman can chatter away about all her own complaints; truthfully, that’s all the socializing she can handle. Anne has always kept to herself, and usually even likes it; the only difference now is that it’s by governor’s decree, not by her own introverted preferences.

Way out here, it’s not surprising that the power eventually goes out; it’s not uncommon, when the snow gets too heavy on the power lines in heavy storms like this. This is exactly why she has a generator - it’s all but a necessity when you’re living here year-round. Sure enough, the generator roars to life a moment later - an auditory nuisance, for sure, but a necessary one when you like such things as central electric heating and wifi and refrigerated items not spoiling.

The crunch of snow under tires outside her little cottage is more surprising, however, especially under the circumstances. She hasn’t ordered takeout, or grocery delivery; there’s no reason anyone should be pulling up to her house, especially in this weather. Peeking out the window reveals the kind of SUV only people with money buy, and the last person in the world she ever expected to see climbing out of it; she’d almost think it a hallucination brought on by isolation, if she hadn’t already seen him from a distance at the grocery store, earlier in the week.

Anne barely has a chance to pull herself together before the knock at the door sounds, bouncing off the walls of her little house. Opening the door reveals Frederick Wentworth, the dream she put away nigh on nine years ago, standing on her stoop in a ridiculous hat and a peacoat that’s not remotely suited to the practicalities of winter in rural New Hampshire.

“Believe me, I hate this just as much, if not more, than you do,” he begins, plowing forward before Anne can even remember to reassure him that it’s not true, “but my power’s out, and I need your help.”

As it turns out, Frederick - her handsome, charming, professional hockey player ex… something - is all that’s required to upset any equilibrium the snow might have brought.

———

Frederick Wentworth hadn’t intended to return to Kellynch, New Hampshire. Then again, he hadn’t intended to be sitting out indefinitely with the rest of the league because of the current pandemic.

New York just feels odd like this, the tourists all gone, the streets practically empty. Fred has never credited himself as one of those maniacs who claim that New York is the only city in the world, and there’s nothing like it; he’d been happy in a small town, and he’ll be happy in a different city if the worst happens and he ends up traded. That’s the way these things work. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t formed opinions over the last years about how this city is supposed to feel, and it sure as hell ain’t this.

So he gets in his car, arranges for a rental house, and drives up to Kellynch. If nothing else, he hopes it will be easier to look outside in a place he’d expect to see barely a soul even under the best conditions. Nothing ever happens in Kellynch, after all; maybe that will include the virus too.

(Well, that’s a lie. Exactly two things have ever happened to Kellynch, and he’s one of them. The other… if they’re very, very lucky, they’ll never have to deal with egotistical directors and their ilk again. Even pretty, quiet brunettes aren’t worth that trouble; in fact, sometimes, they make things worse.)

The irony to all this is that usually, Frederick craves a little bit of solitude. He spends essentially his entire life around the same group of guys, at practice and in games and especially on the road, when he’s got to share a hotel room to boot. Hell, he even lived with them for years, sharing an apartment with Harville and Benwick. A man can be forgiven for wanting some time to himself.

And he’d gotten it, at least for a while. Harvey had met his now-wife and moved out, and now Benwick’s got a girlfriend who giggles and his own place to giggle with her in or whatever. Fred can finally come home and just collapse in the closest thing to silence one ever gets in New York, and truthfully, he’s been enjoying every moment of it.

There’s a difference, though, in solitude on your own terms and solitude on others’ terms, and Frederick can’t help but feel lonely as he remembers that in the middle of all this, his friends and teammates are cozied up with those they love, and he’s all by himself in the empty apartment he once yearned for. In Kellynch, at least, it’s a solitude of his own making; his parents are long gone, Sophie out in Virginia with her husband, and for the most part, he hasn’t talked to his old school friends in years. There won’t be this constant awareness of all the people he can’t see if there’s no one about that he’d want to.

Maybe he ought to try dating again, he thinks as he drives. Obviously, there’s nothing to be done in the moment, what with social distancing and impending stay-at-home orders, but maybe later. Maybe Harvey’s wife has friends he’d like - he’s always liked Amelia and her steady personality and good-natured humor, so unlike Benwick’s high-maintenance Louisa and her ear-piercing squeals. Her friends have got to be similar, and Amelia would probably even be kind enough not to make him sound completely desperate.

It’s not that he hasn’t found anyone interested in the past years; he’s got a decent face, after all, and a better paycheck. But the thing about that face and that paycheck is that it’s hard to trust that any woman is interested in him, him alone, the person he is without all that. It’s not a great way to live, but it’s hard to move past.

There’s also the matter of the pretty quiet brunette who came to Kellynch when he was 16, seized his heart, and never really gave it back. Walter Eliot may have been an asshole - every cliche of the self-absorbed Hollywood director, convinced that their town was “quaint” and “just what he needed” to spark inspiration while demanding kowtowing and wrecking havoc wherever he went - but his daughter, Anne, had been of a different mold altogether. He’d met her at the annual Fourth of July parade, of all places. It was obvious she hadn’t intended to be noticed; indeed, she’d blushed and done her best to fade into the background while her father and older sister had made some kind of scene that Frederick can’t honestly remember anymore. He’d been too intrigued - and later, enchanted - by Anne to pay much attention to the rest of the fiasco she’d called a family.

She’d probably felt then the same as he feels about people now - some strange boy coming up to her out of nowhere with mini-donuts, someone she’s never met but undoubtedly knows her and her family, stuck wondering if he was interested in her or all the rest of it. But it had always been her; she’d initially been fascinating just in the contrast, but as he’d talked to her Fred had gotten to see her sense of humor and her brilliant mind and caring heart, and been smitten with the whole package.

That was, until she’d ended things between them, insisting that they’d never work across such a long distance, that she didn’t want to try. Maybe they’d only had 8 months, but he’d been all in, with all the conviction of youth that this was it for them, in some kind star-crossed true love way. She was the first thing, besides his family, that he’d loved more than hockey; truthfully, he still hasn’t found anything or anyone else to match that. It’s hard to move on from that kind of heartbreak. Maybe it’s finally time he tried.

The house he’s rented proves to be up a winding, hilly road lined with pine trees stretching in every direction. The seclusion is its own kind of calming - exactly what he needs, when the rest of the world feels like it’s going to hell in a handbasket. There’s something about being alone amongst the trees that feels comforting in a way that being alone in the city can never touch - almost like a hug. Or something else less weird-sounding. English was never his thing. The house itself is just a little two-bedroom cottage, but that’s more than enough space for just him. What’s more important is that there’s a TV and WiFi and plenty of blankets to bunker down with for however long this lasts.

What he doesn’t expect is to see Anne Eliot - the same Anne Eliot who he thought had left Kellynch for good, who’d broken his heart - at the supermarket like any other local, presumably looking to stock up on supplies just like he is. He doesn’t think she spots him - Frederick ducks into another aisle as soon as he spots her - but just the briefest sight of her sets his heart beating faster in a way that he doesn’t really want to examine closer.

(It would be ridiculous to still have feelings for her after all this time, even if that’s sure what it seems like.)

He tells himself that it’s just a fluke; that they won’t run into each other again; that they can avoid each other without any problems, given the situation. He is wrong on all counts. The cottage sits at the top of a hill, and on days where the fog hasn’t settled around the tops of the trees, he can see just a peek of a few houses and driveways down below.

And just who should he happen to see wrestling with her trash bin one evening, but the woman herself?

(Some higher power really has it in for him, he’s certain of it.)

Still, they don’t call it social distancing for nothing. It’s easy to avoid the people you don’t want to see when you don’t even leave your house. He naps a lot and catches up on Netflix and even attempts a puzzle that he finds in the hall closet (though it just winds up abandoned on the dining table).

In eight years, though, he’d forgotten about the weather up here. It’s late March, technically spring; the worst of the snow should be over. Should be over isn’t the same as is over, though, and he’d forgotten about the late-March snowstorms that pop up more years than not. They’d had them in Minnesota, too; the locals there had always joked it was because of the college basketball tournament. Well, the NCAA tournament may have been cancelled, but the weather sure didn’t get that memo, as the flakes start falling huge, heavy, and fast just outside the windows, almost pretty in a way that’s only possible when you know you don’t have to go outside in the storm.

Fate has other ideas, though. At least, Frederick has to believe it’s fate, otherwise this is all a cruel, cruel trick, and he doesn’t like to think about what he might have done to deserve that. Where he’s going with this is that the power goes out, knocking out the heat and the lights, as well as all those systems he’d been so thankful for until now. There’s a fireplace, but he hadn’t planned for this, and there’s not enough logs and he doesn’t know where or how to chop more and as much of his life as he spends at an ice rink he is not prepared to spend the night in these kind of temperatures without heat and —

— and when he looks out his window, he can just see a hint of light from Anne’s house, just hear the hum of a generator.

And he really doesn’t have any option at all but to throw himself on the mercy of the last woman he wants to see.

———

Anne’s house is neat, from what Frederick can see - small, but cozy, with everything obviously in its very particular place. It reminds him of her, in a way, or at least the her he remembers - quietly comforting and well turned out. It’s exactly what he expected, somehow - just the kind of house he’d expect her to inhabit.

The woman herself, on the other hand, looks tired - vastly different than what he remembered. Anne is worn down, somehow, in a way that makes her look older than she is. Frederick supposes that’s what happens when she’s undoubtedly been carrying her family members in the way she always has; it would exhaust anyone, especially under pandemic circumstances.

“Nice place,” he comments as Anne leads him towards a promised spare bedroom once he’s retrieved his bag - more out of an effort to fill the empty space than anything. Anne was always quiet, but this is just unnerving in its discomfort. They’d always been able to talk, or at least exist contentedly in the quiet; this is the opposite of all that.

“Thanks,” she replies. “I like it.” Just the kind of response a person makes when they don’t know what the hell else to say.

And maybe that’s what makes Fred dive straight into topics they should politely ignore - the absolute blandness of everything else they could say.

“I didn’t expect to find you here,” he tells her foolishly.

“In my own home, during quarantine?” She says it with a slight smile and the tone of voice she’s always used to hide her sense of humor, and suddenly Frederick is hit with a powerful wave of nostalgia.

“No, here. Kellynch here.”

The amusement flits away just as quickly as it had appeared, the smile turning polite and wooden. Another look he vividly remembers. “I didn’t plan to come back, either,” she tells him softly, “but I like it here. I got out of school and there was a position open and… it was too good an opportunity to pass up. I’m a school nurse,” she clarifies. “Over at the elementary.”

And that… fits, in a way he should have realized. She’d talked about going into nursing way back when, back when they were still practically kids, but this makes a lot more sense than trying to imagine Anne in some busy hospital. More tender, more stable.

“I bet you’re great at that.”

“Thanks. I like it. You’re… good at your job, too,” she finishes awkwardly.

(Even if the words are halting, uncomfortable, they send a little thrill through Frederick’s veins. Does that mean she’s watched, sometime in these past couple of years? They’re decidedly out of Rangers country and New York broadcasting range, way up here, but there are ways around that and she’d said…

Had she watched? For him?)

“Just doing my best,” he replies, just as uncomfortably. What a pair they make now.

“I don’t know if you’ve eaten already, but I was about to make up some dinner,” Anne tells him - an abrupt, but welcome, change of subject. “I’d be happy to do up another serving if you like.”

“That’d be great, thanks.” He has no idea what kind of meal he’s committed to, but who the fuck cares; right now, it’s a way to get a moment to collect himself.

“I’ll see you in a little bit then.”

(If he’s not mistaken, Anne flees the room with just as much relief as he feels watching her go.)

(Kellynch was supposed to be his getaway, his haven - but right now, all it seems like is a terrible mistake as Frederick wonders what the fuck kind of situation he’s gotten himself into.)

———

Dinner isn’t exactly an illustrious start to this whole thing, to say the least. Anne stresses about every step of making spaghetti - spaghetti, for goodness sakes, jarred sauce and boxed noodles, nothing a normal person could possibly find a way to stress about - only to realize as soon as they sit down that this is what they really should have worried about: what in the world two people who have unwillingly been forced into the same space have to discuss.

(“How’s your family?” he asks at one point - probably a subtle dig, if he’s remembering the same uncomfortable dinner that she is, in which her father had done his best to treat Frederick like an utter idiot. Fred had always thought she’d let them walk all over her, anyways - an accusation that isn’t far off.

“Mary is fine. She just got engaged to a lawyer,” Anne relates as neutrally as she can. “I don’t much talk with Walter or Elizabeth anymore.” There’s a variety of reasons for that - especially their tendency to never listen to a single word she’s ever said in her life and making snide comments about how she’d rather live in some backwoods nowhere than in someplace with civilization like LA or New York - but the memory of the way they’d treated Frederick, and everyone else not like them had contributed too. “And your sister?” That’s a safer topic; Sophie and Anne had liked each other.

“She’s good. She lives down in Virginia now - her husband’s some big shot in the Navy.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”)

(And that had been the end of that feeble attempt at discussion.)

Anne thinks a lot that night about what she must have done to deserve this. Clearly, something terrible in some past life to have earned this particular variety of torment. Frederick is everything she remembered, only colder - not that she can blame him. After what she did, all those years ago, the way she broke them… she’s more than earned it.

Still. She can be strong, Anne tells herself. She can remain detached, and collected, and unaffected by his presence. She’s had years of practice, after all, pretending that she still isn’t carrying a torch.

(It was always a foolish idea to watch him play online - but then again, she’s always been a fool.)

It’s a little harder to keep up that calm facade, however, when Frederick is walking out of the bathroom in the morning with nothing more than sweatpants and wet hair. God, but he’s handsome, between that face and that wonderful smile and the fit frame he must be displaying just to taunt her, like a reminder of all she rejected. Naturally. It’s no more than she deserves. Her relief is near palpable when he emerges from the spare room in another bright blue t-shirt.

It gets easier as the hours pass and one day bleeds into another. It’s not Frederick’s fault that she’s so shaken by his very presence, and he really is trying to be a good houseguest. He picks up after himself and helps with the dishes and doesn’t argue with whatever she puts on TV. It could be worse.

Still, she can’t help but feel like everything from their past sits between them, unspoken, in every interaction. It’s the elephant in the room, the loudly unspoken words in every little mundane interaction they share. They can reach a point where they’re able to converse without the overt distrust and borderline hostility of where they started this, but comfort is too much to ask.

(Does he feel it too - the pressure of all the what-might-have-beens, pressing down upon them? Or is she the only one that’s haunted?)

She can do this - survive Frederick’s presence when every moment is a reminder of all she threw away. But that doesn’t mean it won’t just crush and kill her.

———

Frederick finds that he doesn’t mind being cooped up with Anne, likes it much more than he anticipated or planned. It’s not that they do much of anything - there’s limits in a small cottage like hers - but the companionship is nice. As it turns out, he was maybe lonelier than he’d wanted to admit. Even the stupid jigsaw puzzles go easier in her company; she’s got a system of sorting that Fred never would have had the patience to implement.

Really, Anne is better equipped, literally and emotionally, for this whole isolation situation. Frederick has always needed to be out and active and doing, little planning involved; Anne, on the other hand, has all the supplies she needs, and the temperament for these kinds of quiet, time-wasting tasks to boot. It’s so entirely in character; he should probably have guessed. Then again, he was trying very hard not to think of Anne until he was forced to show up at her door, practically begging for shelter.

Anne, of course, has plenty of firewood, unlike him, stacked neatly under a tarp at the side of her garage where it’s protected from the elements. She lives here year-round, after all; unlike his own dumb ass, she obviously remembers that it’s not uncommon to receive snow all the way through March and into April, and planned accordingly. Her central heating works fine, obviously, but there’s something about this weather that calls for a roaring fire. Plus, retrieving the firewood gives Frederick a chance to think away from Anne and all her distraction.

He’s not sure what he expected of her - tears? Begging? Apologies? The kind of aloofness the rest of her family has so perfected? None of that is Anne; she’s always been too accepting of her circumstances, even to her own detriment. Once upon a time, Frederick had viewed that tendency with a kind of fond exasperation, had wanted to help her understand that she deserved more than she had always settled for; now it just makes him sad, and angry. She should feel more than this, should be angry or distraught or anything now that he’s here.

He should be paying more attention to the task at hand than the woman in the other room, unfortunately, as the end of a twig clipped off a log slices the skin of his palm as he deposits his load by the hearth, causing Frederick to hiss in surprise at the mild pain. It’s not a deep cut, or hurt that badly - he plays a contact sport for a living, for fuck’s sake, this is nothing - but he can already see blood starting to bead. After making sure the logs are stacked as best as he can one handed, Fred quickly crosses to the kitchen sink to rinse it out. Anne finds him moments later as he examines his hand for splinters.

“Are you alright?” she asks, that soft voice filled with the kind of concern that sends a pang through his heart.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just scratched myself on one of the logs. No biggie.”

Still, Anne pulls his hand closer to examine the little cut herself - gently enough that he could easily pull away, but somehow, too tenderly for him to ever want to. This is her life now, Frederick realizes suddenly - scrapes and bruises and doubtless all other kinds of minor playground injuries that need more tenderness than true care. School nurse, after all.

“I’ll get you something for that.”

“Oh, you don’t have to —” but it’s too late; Anne is already walking down the hall with her determined pace, disappearing into the bathroom. Resistance is futile, or something. Faintly, he hears the squeal of a cabinet hinge before Anne pads back into sight in her stockinged feet, carrying something he can’t quite make out clutched in her hand.

“Just a bit of neosporin,” she explains, tugging his hand back towards her to apply the cream before peeling open the wrapper of a band-aid - the skin-toned butterfly kind.

He nods towards the little adhesive. “What, no fun prints? I’m appalled.”

“Left all my princesses and superheroes back in my office at school,” she smiles back. “You’ll just have to make do, I suppose.”

“I guess I’ll make it, somehow.”

(When she smiles, the ridiculous urge to ask her to kiss it better pops into his head with an ease that nearly frightens him. With a care that would impress even her, he shoves it back down.)

———

It gets easier to share the same space as the days drag on - to learn to expect another person in her space, to expect that other person to be him. It would be overstating the matter to say that she’s not affected by him anymore; indeed, Anne is almost painfully aware of his presence at every moment. But she can prepare to face it when she’s come to expect him, and that feels like a victory all its own. She is braced and ready, long since versed in ignoring and minimizing those feelings that still linger from so long ago. Frederick’s physical presence in her space is a complicating factor, but certainly one that she can overcome.

If she can ignore the way her heart aches, it’s almost kind of nice, having him around. They fall into a pattern of meals and Netflix and quietly finding their own distraction in between. It’s the kind of mundane existence she could almost dream of sharing with him if she was foolish enough to entertain those thoughts.

(She can’t afford to be such a fool - not when it’s only a matter of time until the snow stops and the roads clear and he leaves once again. She likes her life as it is, and that will have to be enough.)

It’s probably inevitable that, on the fourth night, when the snow has finally let up but the temperatures have turned bitter and icy, they find themselves huddled up next to the fireplace with a strong drink apiece. Frederick sips on a glass of the nice whiskey Anne keeps in the back of a cabinet for occasions that call for a little something stronger, barely kissed with enough soda to call it a mixed drink; Anne, at least, pours the same stuff into a whole cup of tea. She’s never been much for liquor, especially straight, but there are occasions that call for it, and being cooped up with a man she never expected to see again is certainly one of them.

“What are the fucking odds?” Frederick declares after his second glass. “I come out here, trying to get away, and I find you. What are the odds.”

“Well, the last couple of years, I’d say pretty good. Since I live here and all.” He’s kind of cute like this - drunk and verbose. It’s something she never had a chance to see, before.

“Oh. Yeah. That.” He takes another swig. “Still. What are the odds that I came back while you’re here?”

“It’s a mystery, I guess.” Maybe it’s the last few days; more likely, it’s the drink. Whatever the case, Anne finds herself telling Frederick something she should never admit. “I’m glad you’re here,” she tells him softly. “I… missed you.”

He tenses up at the words; not the reaction she expected, honestly. A feeling of dread starts to bloom in her stomach instead. “Really,” he comments, utterly flat.

“Well… yes. Is that so hard to believe?”

“A little bit,” he tells her bluntly. “Especially since you’re the one that wanted me gone in the first place.”

“It was for the best.” For him, that is; this was never about her, anyways.

“Was it now?” His laugh is bitter, utterly devoid of joy.

“Frederick…”

“I just want to know what the hell is going on here,” Frederick demands, a liquored slur rounding out his consonants. “Because I’ve been here for days, and I can’t get my feet underneath me where you’re concerned. You sit there with that sad smile and you say it’s for the best and yet you don’t seem happy. And I don’t fucking get it. You’re the one who wanted to break up, but you don’t seem happy that we did.”

“I wasn’t,” Anne admits softly. “I’m not.”

“Then why? Because I’ve been trying to figure it out for nearly nine years, and all I’ve ever figured out is that you must not have felt anything. And after a week spent here, I don’t know that that’s true. So tell me, why?”

“I did it for you!” Anne finally bursts out, more a plea that a shout. “And I know that sounds like a lie and an excuse, but that’s why. We were so young, but God, I loved you. And you loved me, so much that you were about to throw away your chance at everything, ready to find some lesser school near Kellynch rather than taking Minnesota’s offer just so we’d be closer to each other. And I wanted it too - God, Frederick, you don’t know how much I wanted it, how close I was to letting you do that, because I wanted that too. I wanted you close. I loved you.

“But then… it wasn’t even some big game, but you wanted me there, so I went. And you looked alive out there on the ice, throwing insults and elbows and grinning like a maniac. I realized… that’s who you were supposed to be. I couldn’t hold you back from that, just to keep you close to me. Minnesota was your path to the kind of career that would last. How could I ask you to throw away your future?”

“Why didn’t you just say that? We could have figured something out. Done the long distance thing, I don’t know.”

“And you would have been hopelessly distracted from the start. Your mind would have been halfway across the country when you needed to be focusing on hockey and classes and everything else.”

He doesn’t have any response to that, not that Anne expected one. Frederick has never been great at admitting to things he doesn’t like.

“It was never because I didn’t care enough, because I didn’t love you,” she finishes softly. “I did it because I could see everything you could be, and I love - I loved you too much to let you waste that.” God, Anne hopes he didn’t hear that slip of the tongue, even if it’s true. “We were seventeen, Frederick. Kids. There was so much still ahead for you. I couldn’t be the reason you hindered your own dream, or even let it slip away. And you made it, didn’t you? You’ve reached that dream. No matter what I wanted for myself… I had to. For you, so you could have this.”

“I wanted you more than any dream.” Frederick has practically collapsed in on himself in the armchair, the very same one Anne was occupying when he’d showed up and shattered her quiet little world. It seems almost fitting that he sit there while she does the same.

There’s no words for this; nothing that could make it better. Telling him I wanted that too won’t fix what’s already been done, even if she wishes that was the case, even if that’s true. “Frederick…” she finally whispers for lack of anything else to say.

It’s too late, though - though that’s not quite the right phrase, not when it was already too late before this conversation even started, before he even showed up at her door in the snow. Now is just when he pries himself out of her armchair, standing with a finality that’s impossible to miss. “I’m tired, Anne,” he tells her. Anne doesn’t think she imagines an extra level of meaning to his words. “Goodnight.”

There’s nothing left to say - and no use saying it to an empty room anyways as she hears the spare bedroom door click shut down the hall.

There’s no changing the past, but not enough words to explain it either.

———

The next morning, the roads are finally clear, and Frederick can go back up the road to his own cottage. Anne watches silently as Frederick emerges from the guest bedroom, his duffle bag in hand. The silence only becomes more tense as they stare at each other, the luggage a physical barrier between them, both blessed and cursed.

“I suppose I should thank you,” Frederick finally says, breaking the silence.

Anne shakes her head. “It was nothing. Basic kindness. You don’t need to thank me.”

(Can he see the way this pains her? Read the plea in her eyes - for forgiveness, for understanding?)

After another beat of silence, Frederick finally nods decisively, turning towards the door. “Take care, Anne.”

“You too, Frederick.” It feels final; it feels like a farewell, of a permanent kind.

And then, with a last soft click of the door, he’s gone.

And Anne is left to herself again.

———

He should feel peace, now that he’s back in his own space, away from Anne and every memory that she’s dredged up.

He doesn’t.

Because now, back alone in the little house at the top of the hill, Frederick once again has to face the particular kind of loneliness that comes with knowing that it doesn’t have to be this way.

What it all circles back to is this: he should feel smug. After all, this is everything he’d wished for in his most bitter moments over the years: Anne, all alone, with no real support system, just living a quiet little life of little note and, to all appearances, little true happiness.

But it doesn’t feel good - not even remotely. How has he suffered? Sure, he hasn’t had her, but he got drafted, went to a top rate school, wound up playing hockey for a living in the NHL. By any measure, it’s a damn good life - all while Anne has been left to become the shell of herself he found four days ago.

And that shouldn’t be his problem. Technically, you could argue that she brought this upon herself; dug a hole of her own making. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel… sad, he supposes, to see what she’s resigned herself to. Maybe a little guilty, even.

And still, he can’t help but feel like there’s questions left unanswered. They’d talked plenty about the past, how they’d felt and why they’d acted the way they had, but that hadn’t touched on where they stand now. If there’s one thing he’s learned in these last few days, it’s that his own feelings aren’t nearly as dormant as he’s tried to convince himself all these years. If there’s any chance Anne might still feel the same… well, he owes it to them both to find out.

This chapter of their history doesn’t seem quite finished yet, and Frederick knows exactly what he has to do.

———

This time, she should have expected the knock on the door - social distancing be damned.

It’s been three days since the storm’s finally stopped - three days since snowplows had cleared everything out, three days since Frederick had left, back to his own little house up the road.

She’d been content by herself for so long - happy with her plants and her books and all the little hobbies that take up her time in the evenings and weekends. Anne had even found a new kind of solitary contentment in the pandemic, discovering tasks to give her days purpose and goals. Frederick was here for a matter of days, not even a week; it’s absurd to think he could change any of that.

And yet somehow, he has.

Because Anne had been… content by herself for so long - not happy, per se, but satisfied - but the house feels empty now without him. Even when they’d barely talked, or were in separate rooms, he’d been there, the energy of another person making the whole house feel full. She’d grown used to him, she supposes; allowed herself to remember, for once, all the reasons she had loved him, and all the dreams she once had had of what a life together could have been like .

She chose this life - here, in Kellynch, by herself. But for the first time in the only place that’s ever really been hers, she feels not just alone, but lonely. As much as she’s always claimed to like her life, just as it is, there’s no denying that the past days have illuminated all the ways that she’s been lying to herself. She tries to pass the time the same way she always has, but it’s just not the same; she even calls Mary at one point, hoping her sister’s dour moods might be an efficient distraction, but Mary is even more snippy than usual. It’s been days since Anne last called, and her sister feels an outsized outrage about the so-called abandonment; truthfully, Anne hadn’t even noticed it had been a week since her last call. Moreover, she finds that she doesn’t really care about Mary’s bad mood the way she always has, doesn’t feel the need to fix it or blame herself for the outburst. It’s easier just to hang up the phone.

(Maybe this is the first step in moving on: accepting that you deserve more than you’ve ever settled for. That doesn’t stop the yearning; moving on isn’t the work of a couple days, especially when the man himself has only just exited her life again, and is staying just up the road.)

As if she’s summoned him, tires crunch on the drive outside, heralding his reappearance. It isn’t right, the way her heart lurches with happiness and hope and excitement when she peeks out the window to once again see his SUV, once again see him climbing out in that ridiculous blue hat and shuffle to her front door without once slipping on her icy walk. There’s a sense of déjà vu as Anne draws a deep breath before she opens the door. There’s only so many times she can go through this, be subjected to such a blast from the past, before it will eventually break her. And yet, like a fool, she keeps opening the door.

“Can we talk?” Frederick asks. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets and his shoulders are hunched inwards, but there’s a look in his eyes that Anne is afraid to name.

(It almost looks tender - almost looks like hope - but it will hurt far worse to be proved wrong if she allows herself to believe that.)

“Of course,” Anne says softly, stepping aside just enough to let him in. It touches a special little bit of her heart to see the way that Frederick carefully knocks the snow off his boots at the threshold as he pulls his hat off his head, trying his best not to track anything in to her rug and floors. It’s such a simple little thing, but it’s care for her home - and, in a way, care for her. More than she ever expected again from Frederick Wentworth.

“Anne…” he begins, reaching out a hand for her, but she quickly takes a step back. Touch will be too much, too permanent a memory if this is the end.

“I think we ought to keep a bit of distance,” she explains at his odd look.

If anything, that only serves to confuse him further, his brow crinkling up in that endearing way she remembers. “We already spent days together. I think social distancing is kind of a lost cause, at least where we’re concerned.”

Anne shakes her head. “It’s not about the virus.”

She can see the moment it hits him, just exactly what she means by distance, as he physically flinches with the realization. She can also see the moment he decides to plow forwards anyways with whatever he came to say.

“I’ve been thinking, these last couple of days,” he tells her, “and I’ve had a lot of time to consider things. Everything you said and did, the other night and way back when. And I realized… I did a lot of talking about what I wanted, and what I felt. And in the middle of all that shouting, I never asked about what you wanted, or want, or how you felt. And you never told me, because that’s what you’re used to - people not caring enough to ask. That’s on me, and I’m sorry. But —” he swallows heavily, as if he’s forcing down the nerves he evidently feels — “but I’m asking now. I want to know what our break-up meant to you. Because the more I think about it, the harder it is for me to believe you did all this because you didn’t care.”

Anne fights the urge to turn away from Frederick; he deserves that much, after everything. Meeting his eyes is too much to ask, however, and she fixes her gaze instead just over his right shoulder, crossing her arms over her body protectively. “I loved you,” she tells him quietly. “I knew what I had to do, but I loved you. I hated every word that came out of my mouth.” Anne smiles sadly. “You weren’t the only one who wanted. You were the first person - the only person to look at me and see something wonderful and worthwhile, and it killed me to throw that away. I’ve had to live with that ever since.”

“And now?”

Anne turns pleading eyes upon him, sure that every emotion is now splashed across her face and too distraught to care. How dare he do this? How dare he make her speak this into existence if he’s only about to crush it all? “Don’t make me say it,” she begs.

“Please, Anne.” His voice is nearly as desperate - and that’s, ultimately, what breaks her, leaving the words to spill forth almost without her permission.

“And now… that doesn’t go away, you know. A love as big as that. You got to go be this success story, doubtless had all kinds of… distractions over the years, but when you have a quiet little life like mine, you don’t forget. It doesn’t go away. There’s a large part of my heart that is still yours - probably always will be - and I have to find a way to deal with that.”

“You still love me?”

Anne nods, whispering her response. “I do.”

She suddenly feels his hand trail down her arm, causing Anne to jerk abruptly to meet his eyes again. “Well that’s lucky,” he smiles down at her, achingly gentle, “because I haven’t forgotten either.”

Even as Anne’s heart lurches with hope, she shakes her head. “Don’t tease, Frederick. Don’t be that cruel.”

“I’m not,” he assures her, twining their fingers together. “Because you’re right, I’ve tried to distract myself, but… you have no idea just how unforgettable you are, Anne. How could anyone ever compare? And I tried so hard for so long to move on, to hate you, but I never could. You were a little spark in my heart that I could never quite stamp out. And now…” Frederick pauses as if to gather his breath, squeezing her hand as he does so. “And now, I hope I won’t have to.”

“You’d want that? You’d want to…” Even with new-found hope singing through her veins, Anne still hesitates to finish the sentence. This all feels like a wonderful dream; she’d hate to wake up and discover that’s all it was.

“To try again?” he finishes. “Yeah. Yeah, I want that. The real question is… do you?”

And she does, she wants that so terribly much, so badly that it aches, even as she hesitates. How could he want that, after everything she’s done? When their separation was her fault in the first place?

“I don’t deserve you,” Anne murmurs into the miniscule space between them, caving to the urge to brush his hair back from his face. It makes him smile, just a little bit, just a twitch of his lips, but that more than anything else sends a flood of peace rushing through her soul.

“I think we deserve each other,” Frederick tells her in return, his voice almost unbearably soft. “I believe that, and somehow, I’m going to make you believe that too. We deserve this, Annie.”

And he kisses her, like he wants to, like he’s thought about it just as much as she has. His lips are soft against hers - just like she remembers, all those years ago - but there’s a surety to his hands now that wasn’t there before, in the way he pulls at her waist to bring her closer and his fingers thread through her hair with purpose. There’d been a handful of ill-advised attempts at dating in the past eight years, but nothing ever came close to this joyful swooping sensation in her stomach or the feelings of safety and love and home. That’s something only he can manage; something that only exists between the two of them.

Her hands find their way to his chest as the kiss deepens, becomes more passionate, heads adjusting their position to allow tongues to tentatively begin to prod and search. Anne had known the difference 8 years had made on Frederick’s body, had seen with her own two eyes the way he’d filled out with more muscle, but feeling it is something else altogether, even through his shirt where his coat gaps open. It’s a reminder that they’re not the same - they’re older and more mature and have experienced different things than they had at 17. But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes, change can be good; it’s brought them here, together, at what otherwise feels like the end of the world.

Even as they break apart - to get a breath of air, to process what just happened - Frederick continues to stroke his thumb across the round of her cheek, like he can’t bear to stop touching her. It warms her heart in a whole new way, like it’s proof that he meant every word he told her - as if she needs any more after that kiss. It would be easy to let herself get swept away on that little touch, perhaps into another wonderful kiss, but Anne forces herself to meet his eyes.

“Stay.” It’s more than a question, but less than a demand - a plea, the dearest wish of her heart that she’s never admitted, now given voice.

“For as long as you want me, Annie.” His voice is tender and husky as he smiles down at her. “Because I really don’t want to ever leave you again.”

And that’s awfully lucky, as Anne doesn’t ever intend to let him go again.

#Persuasion #Persuasion ff #Jane Austen ff #Anne Elliot x Frederick Wentworth #Modern AU #my writing #skating in circles (with no way to stop)

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always5hineee · 4 years

Text

The Final Bell - Chapter 2: Let’s Go Shopping!

Chapter warnings: Mild language, mention of death

Word count: 3717

Story is also available under Taffysamg on Quotev and Wattpad.

To see the full chapter list, go to the “Final Bell” Tab on my page.

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When the group arrived at the campsite, Taeil brought the car to a slow stop, shifting into park and and unbuckling his seatbelt. (He was the only one who had been buckled in the first place.) Only then did he unlock the doors. Mark crawled past Y/N, being the first to jump out of the car.

"Hey!" He waved his arms, grinning. "We're back!" Taeil and Jaehyun stepped out much more calmly, and Jungwoo waited for her to exit the vehicle, shutting the door behind him. The first person to address them was a calm-looking boy with longer hair.

"Welcome back. What did you manage to find?" Mark looked to Jaehyun, who had been carrying the bag.

"Just the last few bits of non-perishable food, and some medical stuff." The boy in question answered, holding the tattered bag out. The first man nodded, grabbing it.

"Anything helps. Did the bell ring?"

"Yeah, we're thinking maybe three hours, on the safe side?" The man nodded a second time.

"I'll let everyone know- we kind of figured we couldn't stay long." Before walking away, he looked to Y/N, then back to the boys.

"Is she with you?"

"Yeah, this is Y/N." Taeil said. "Jae picked her up on his way back from town. Says she passed out, can't remember much, figured he'd help out."

"What a Good Samaritan." Another voice cut in. He sounded a bit like Mark, if not a bit more grating. "Pleased to meet you." He held out a hand. She didn't move. Shrugging, he continued.

"I'm Haechan. This is Yuta." The quieter boy, who she now knew was 'Yuta', looked to Haechan.

"Can you show her around? I know we're leaving soon, but it's probably better if she meets everyone. Plus, we normally set up the same way." Haechan whistled disappointedly.

"I'd love to, but I'm actually helping with inventory right now since Taeil went out." Yuta looked over, suspicious.

"Then why are you out here?"

"Good point! I'll leave you to it!" He walked off in a direction that was definitely not towards anything having to do with inventory, but Yuta ignored it.

"Fine, I'll see if Taeyong can do it." He looked to Y/N. "I'd show you around myself, but I have to get this stuff stored and start packing up. These guys just got back, so they deserve their downtime. Taeyong's kind of our unofficial leader anyway, so it's better that you meet him."

Taking this as their dismissal, Jaehyun and Jungwoo began to walk off, Mark catching up closely behind. Taeil stayed next to Yuta, who told him that he'd be to the storage tent in a moment. Satisfied, the boy walked off, leaving just Yuta and Y/N.

"Last I checked, Taeyong was in his own tent, so we're gonna head to center." Y/N nodded, not wanting to say anything out of place. She was still taking everything in. It wasn't a long walk, and soon they were at faded green tent. Yuta attempted knocking, which wasn't too easy on fabric. After receiving no response, he called out,

"Taeyong! We have a guest, can I come in?" After a moment, a muffled voice returned.

"Yeah, of course."

Unzipping the front, Yuta pulled the flap out of the way, stepping in. It was pretty roomy for a tent, but the ceiling was low enough that they had to sit down. In front of her was a much younger-looking man than she had expected. He was fairly thin, sitting cross-legged and reading a book. He had one earbud in, the cable linking to an old-school MP3 player. He was sitting on top of a sleeping bag next to a fold-out table littered with random items. Y/N looked curious, but neglected to say anything. Strangely, he noticed this fairly quickly.

"If you have a question, you can just ask." He said. His voice was soft, but definitely confident. He seemed interested in her, if only in a logistical way.

"How did you get music in the apocalypse?" She asked. She immediately regretted it- it was fairly stupid, after all. He laughed, but not rudely, just amused.

"I had this before everything went to shit." He waved the tiny device. "We do have one computer, but it's pretty useless without WiFi. Thankfully during the first few days of this disaster, Doyoung downloaded terabytes full of data, so we have a good bit of knowledge stored up. Not much music on it, though." Doyoung... she hadn't heard that name yet.

"If you ever need music, Taeyong's your guy." Yuta explained. "He makes it sound like he doesn't but I think he has every known genre on that thing." Taeyong laughed again, pulling his other earbud out.

"Anyway, you're not here to talk about that. What can I help you both with?" Yuta cut in to explain.

"Jaehyun found her in the neighborhood we just raided. She doesn't remember much, and they figured she could use the help. The boys are all busy, and we were hoping you could at least talk to her, if not show her around?" Taeyong stretched, preparing to get up.

"Sure, I don't mind. What's everyone doing?"

"Packing up- we have to move again."

"Ah. Anyway, I'd be happy to show..." He looked to her. "I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name?"

"Y/N."

"Y/N- I like it. Well, Y/N, we should be on our way, then." Crawling out after Yuta, he stood outside, cracking his knuckles. "And Yuta- make sure Haechan actually does something." The boy nodded, walking off to another tent. Taeyong looked to her, hands on his hips.

"So, would you prefer to start from here, or the front?" As this was one of the first questions she'd been asked apart from her name, she struggled to find an answer for a moment.

"Uh, I... From here is fine?" He nodded.

"Alright, let's get started then."

They walked the campsite, visiting various tents and clearings. Each tent was either uniquely colored or had a label indicating it's function. The big black tent was for storing resources, the orange tent was for medical supplies and treatment, the assorted blue and green tents were sleeping quarters, the clearing in the middle with the fire pit was for cooking and eating, the grayish-purple tent was for weapons, and the areas around the camp were for cars.

"Most of the cars are actually just stolen from the next town over. We bring them here, take the parts we want, pump out the gas, and leave them here as a barrier until we move. We all basically travel in the black van, and one person drives the old Ford with the extra stuff." He pointed to a beat up car.

"Generally Taeil drives the van and Jungwoo takes the car, but it can switch off. Can you drive?" Y/N nodded.

"I'm not the best, per se, but I can handle a car." He smiled.

"That's better than some of these guys can do, so that's already helpful." At that, his eyes widened slightly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot to even ask- are you thinking about staying? Not to be blunt, but it's a matter of planning."

Oh... was she staying? She didn't really have anywhere better to go, and going solo didn't seem like the best option, but she didn't even know these men. Still, they had taken her in, and seemed alright... Worst case scenario, they killed her, right? The zombies would do that anyway. Finally, she decided.

"Yeah, if... if it's not too much trouble? Safety in numbers, right?" He nodded.

"That's what we're hoping, at least. So, you haven't been inside any of the tents- except for mine, of course. Any interest? I can't promise the guys will want you in their spaces, but the public stuff it definitely up for grabs."

"I mean, not to be high-maintenance, but I'd like to see all of them." He waved a hand.

"No trouble at all! Let's hit the med-tent first, it's right over there." Taeyong led her to the orange tent, unzipping the flap and stepping inside. This tent was significantly taller than Taeyong's, leaving room to stand. There were two cots inside, as well as a few crates. On one of these crates sat Jungwoo, and another Jaehyun. The former was pushing the other's hair out of the way, shining a flashlight into his eyes.

"You don't have a concussion. It'll just bruise." Jungwoo said.

"I told you." Jaehyun grumbled, standing up to leave. Instead of the exit, though, he came face to face with the touring pair. "Oh, hey Taeyong. Y/N."

"Jaehyun- what happened? Did you get hurt on the raid?" Taeyong asked, concerned. He shook his head.

"No, just knocked heads with the new lady." He gestured. "I told him I was fine, but he wanted to check it out anyway."

"Speaking of which, you sit down as well." Jungwoo demanded, gesturing to her. Surprised, she shuffled over, sitting down on the crate. "Look at my eyes, don't move." She did as he told, meeting his dark eyes as he shone the LED in her face. He grabbed her jaw, slowly moving her head left and right.

"This doesn't seem like medical equipment." She commented awkwardly as he checked her pupils.

"It's not- we do the best we can. Thankfully, there are plenty of first aid kits in all those houses, so we have a surplus of bandaids and disinfectant." Clicking the light off, he seemed satisfied. "You're fine. If anything, I’d say you’re severely dehydrated, but that’s all.”

"See?" Jaehyun said. "You keep acting like we're all made of glass. You don't need to check up on us every time something hurts. You'd make me come in if I had a hangnail."

"What if you pulled the hangnail out, touched something with zombie-virus on it, became infected, and killed everyone before we could catch the disease?" Jungwoo shot back. Jaehyun just huffed, grabbing for the tent flap.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be in my tent." After Jaehyun had exited, Taeyong began to go a bit more in detail.

"We pick up whatever medical equipment we can find when we raid towns. Jungwoo is kind of our impromptu physician. As you can see, he worries, but he's pretty good at it." Jungwoo shut his eyes, clearly embarrassed. "Anyway, thanks, man! We're gonna head to the weapons tent."

Not long after, they had made their way to the purple tent, which was significantly smaller. This was likely because it didn't need to house so many people. The inside was sparse, housing only large wooden crates with bold black letters on the sides. Among them were, "Gunpowder", "Bullets", "Explosives", and "Blades".

"Actually, while we're here, we should get you a few weapons. You shouldn't be walking around unarmed. What do you like?" This surprised her.

"I'm not really familiar with anything in particular." He stared for a moment, and then laughed.

"Oh, sorry, I should have realized. Everyone kind of has their preferences. Just look around, see if anything catches your eye. I need to switch out a few anyway, and pack some stuff. Take your time."

Out of curiosity, she started with the box labeled "explosives". True to the name, it was full of fireworks, a few grenades, makeshift tinfoil bombs, gasoline, and even half-empty bottles of vodka. The bottom of the crate was littered with flint and lighters. Obviously, it wasn't the safest setup, and nothing really looked that appealing. She wasn't trying to accidentally blow her own head off.

After looking around another few minutes, she finally opened the "Blades" box. Originally, she had been worried, scared to find bloodied, rusting, scary knives. Instead, she was met with clean, well-polished blades of all assortments. There was everything from kitchen knives to full-on swords. Immediately, one caught her attention.

It was completely black, the edge slightly shinier. It was definitely bigger than a knife, but shorter than a sword, about a foot long if she had to guess. She swung it once, surprising Taeyong.

"Woah, watch where you put that!" He laughed awkwardly. "That's a classic, though. Did you used to watch zombie movies?" She shrugged.

"Not particularly."

"Huh. Well, you're welcome to it. Maybe grab a pocket knife as well, for utility. You should also pick out a gun."

After attempting to do what he asked, she finally had to request his assistance in picking a gun. Amused at her oblivious nature on the subject, he picked out a common handgun- a Glock 19. He took a few minutes showing her how to load and fire it, giving her a few boxes of ammunition as well. Soon, her arms were full of, well... arms.

"We should probably get you a belt for all that stuff. We can go the storage tent next." This tent was evidently the largest out of all of them, with at least three separate support sections. It was full to the brim of 50-gallon plastic containers, all labeled in different handwritings. There were a few people inside- Yuta was loading a box, saying something that she didn't catch to Taeil. Surprisingly, Haechan was there as well, although he wasn't doing much. As far as she could tell, he was occasionally throwing random items into boxes basketball-style.

"Ah! Y/N!" Yuta called as he caught her eye, walking over. "Hope everything's been going well." Looking to her arms, he laughed. "I see they already have you packing. I assume you're here for a belt?" She nodded. "Well, you're in luck. Jaehyun made a few the other day." Walking away and digging in a nearby bin, he pulled out a black belt.

It was obviously makeshift, as the original belt was a slightly different color. Still, the stitching was fairly neat, covering the appendage with loops and pockets. Yuta pointed as he explained.

"This is for a handgun, and these pockets are for ammunition. This big loop is if you have to carry a rifle, but it doesn't seem like you have one, so don't worry about it. This loop is for a larger blade, like a sword or that machete, and the rest are for smaller knives." Grabbing it from his open palm, she looked it over.

"This seems really detailed." She commented.

"Jaehyun's good with weapons, so he knows what's good to carry. Don't make fun of him for the sewing, he's actually kind of proud of it. Also, he'll probably kill you." This distressed her slightly. Jaehyun was not sounding like someone she wanted to hang around. Still, the other boys seemed comfortable, so she said nothing.

"So, there's not much to see here. We keep food, water, cooking appliances, wood, miscellaneous stuff, clothing-"

"Clothing?" Y/N found herself asking. She was already feeling dirty in her old clothes, and who knew how long she had been wearing them.

"Oh, you're probably looking for some new threads." He realized. "That doesn't seem very protective."

"Or clean." She added. He shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess. Taeil!" The other boy stopped what he was doing, looking up. "Can you help Y/N go through the clothes?" He nodded, waving her over.

Taeil led her to the back of the tent as Yuta started up a conversation with Taeyong. He popped the lid on a blue bin, explaining the wild organizations.

"Those are shirts, jeans, pants, underwear, masks and bandanas-" She watched as he started opening other lids. Digging through the pants bin, she quickly realized that this would be harder than she thought.

"I... don't suppose you have any... girls' clothes? Or something smaller?"

"Hmm?" Taeil looked back to her. "Oh... oh, right. We uh, don't usually pick up anything that we wouldn't use ourselves... sorry." She shook her head.

"No, it makes sense... I'll figure it out." She kept digging for something a bit smaller.

"Here," Taeil offered, "You pick out something that works for now, and we can go visit Johnny while the others pack up."

"Johnny?" She asked. Yet another name she was unfamiliar with.

"Yeah, he's kind of known for having a lot of random stuff. I'll bet he has some better clothes on-hand. He doesn't live near here, so I'll drive you out. It's hard to explain, you'll just have to see. I'll go tell Taeyong, you pick something out."

She nodded, turning back to the bins. After a few more moments of searching, she settled on a pair of black skinny jeans (that weren't so skinny on her), an oversized red shirt with a black collar and accents, a new pair of socks, and the best-fitting black boots she could find. Satisfied that there was no one around, she changed, thankfully uninterrupted. She looked herself over in the absence of a mirror, fairly pleased with the look. The belt full of weapons was definitely an unfamiliar sight, but it made her feel badass at least. Walking out to where the boys were still standing, she caught the tail end of their conversation.

"Haechan, you go and load up. Maybe you can actually be helpful." Taeyong said. "I'll go with Taeil to Johnny's, and we can make sure none of the guys need anything while we're out." As Y/N approached, he looked to her outfit.

"Oh, good you found someth-" He stopped.

"What, is something wrong?" She asked, worried that she looked stupid.

"No, no, sorry. Just caught me off guard. You have good taste- that's WinWin's shirt." WinWin. Yet another person she hadn't met.

"WinWin? Doyoung, Johnny? You have to introduce me to all these people." She said, already exasperated by the amount of names she was forced to remember.

"Sorry, I know it's a lot." Taeyong smiled apologetically. "Doyoung is almost always in his own tent, and Johnny doesn't live in the campsite with us. WinWin, uh..." He swallowed hard, eyes shifting to avoid hers.

"WinWin is no longer with us." Yuta finished for him, obviously seeing him struggle.

"Oh, I- I'm so sorry-" Y/N sputtered, trying to figure out what to say. "I can change if-" Taeyong collected himself, smiling sadly.

"No, no, you're fine. We don't carry around all of this stuff just for show- you're welcome to wear it. I should tell everyone the new plans, I'll see you all later- call me when you're about to leave!" He was evidently faking his cheery attitude, but no one was about to call him out on it. Taeil waved Haechan and Yuta back to what they were doing, leading Y/N out of the tent.

"Sorry about that. Taeyong sort of blames himself for WinWin... we all do. It's no accident that we're this well coordinated... we had to learn the hard way." She, once again, didn't know what to say. Obviously, the pseudonym 'WinWin' paved the way for plenty of jokes, and- once again obviously- none of them were appropriate. She didn't know him at all, but it still felt somber for some reason.

"I'm sorry..." Was all she could muster. He shook his head.

"No, I'm sorry for making things so... sad. We should get ready to go, I'll call Taeyong." Pulling a black device off of his own belt, he spoke into it.

"TY! We're rolling out, over." At this, she realized it was a walkie-talkie.

"What's the range on that?"

"Hmm?" He looked to the device. "Oh, about ten miles. It has twelve channels, though, so we don't get much interference. It was originally a lot lower, but Doyoung boosted them pretty well." There was the name Doyoung again.

"The computer and the radios? He seems like a tech guy." Taeil shrugged.

"Yeah, he kinda does all our electronic stuff. He's alright with helping me fix up the cars, too. Everyone just sort of... took up a place. You'll find something you're good at, too. We'll go get you your own radio afterwards." Right on time, Taeyong walked up. He had clearly recollected himself well, showing no signs of ever having been shaken up.

"Alright, let's get on the road! We'll take the van, and they'll load up the Ford while we're out." Taeil held out the keys to him.

"Do you want to drive?" He shot a dirty look.

"You know I can't." Laughing he spun them on his finger.

"Still funny."

"It's really not."

They walked to the van, Taeyong choosing to sit in the middle row with Y/N rather than shotgun.

"Are you gonna scan channels?" Taeil asked, receiving a nod from the leader. As they pulled out, Taeyong began meddling with his own radio.

"What are you looking for?" Without looking up, Taeyong paused.

"Johnny is usually nearby. He doesn't really have a choice, as we all live according to the zombie's migration patterns. Still, he's kind of an ass, and always switches what channel he's on. Sometimes he won't even pick up. We're kind of forced to just check every channel until something comes up." His eyes lit up after a particularly loud burst of static.

"Hold on, this might be him." Holding the device to his mouth, he said, "Johnny? This is Taeyong, we're looking to come grab some stuff. Where are you? Over." It was silent for a moment, humming in and out. Taeyong seemed annoyed.

"It's definitely him." This confused Y/N.

"Really? It doesn't sound like anyone's there to me." He sighed.

"Sometimes he won't even answer unless it's 'interesting'. He glanced her over. "Thankfully, I think this will intrigue him." Putting the plastic to his lips again, he said, "We're looking for clothes. Girl's clothes. Over." Sure enough, it was only seconds before they got a response. A deep, crackling male voice rang over the radio.

"Happy to help, supreme leader Tae! I'm about four miles Northwest of your campsite. I'm sort of in the middle of closing my stuff up, though, so make it quick." Taeyong looked to her with a sort of 'I told you so' look, then linked eyes with Taeil in the rearview mirror.

"You hear that?"

"Yep, headed Northwest."

And with that, they started their drive towards Johnny. He seemed all too strange for Y/N, but she didn't really have a choice. She could only hope that things would go smoothly. Taeyong had told her to ask questions if she was curious, but... she didn't want to interrogate them the whole way home. Finally, she simply settled into her seat, gazing out at the barren wastelands.

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