#And LIKE TWO AIR FRYERS and i think that's hilarious

[thealicedoll]

Feeling insane after making a plushie like i needed to breath, first human one i've made, i truly just winged it, zero tutorials just a rabid need to create him, Victor Frankenstein style, that's why he looks silly but I love him like that!

Might take some weeks but will make a proper post of it once i get all the clothes muahaha but here's a sneak! Black Jack!

(Bowtie is a stand in for now)

[embe95]

Saturday

Synopsis: Mac's a good guy, okay? Well, I mean, he's the only one who cares about me... right? But then along comes Felix, who just changes everything.

Felix, again... He's just lovely to write for, idk man. This took waaaaay longer than I thought it would. And it is LONG. 6,800 words, jeepers.

Warnings: emotionally abusive relationship (reader has a toxic ex), cursing, talk of sex (not explicit) but yeah, here we are

Late again! Fuck… fuck Y/N, you can’t keep doing this!

I cover my face with a pillow, groan and stagger up quickly even though my body begs me to catch up on my sleep some more. Late… I’m late. Again. Minho is going to slice my head clean off.

Where- oh right, there…

”Y/N?” I hear his groggy voice from the messy bed. It’s covered with regret from corner to corner.

Fuck. Not again.

”Mac! You’re up!” I turn, grinning with panic, arms still flailing around to try and grab my clothes.

Mac leans up on his elbows, toned biceps flexing, hair a mess, and so it all comes back to me.

I’m at his house again. Why, why, why do I keep doing this?

I pull on my sweats, grateful that some part of me must have considered the fact that I have practice today.

This is not at all surprising. I came here after an anxiety attack and we had sex. Disappointing, yes, both as a decision and as an activity, but not surprising.

”You have practice again?” Mac’s voice sounds like a chain saw, but his tone is nonchalant. He’s gonna ask when he can see me next. I’m already bugged by the question.

”Mhmm… yeah.”

Where is the damn- oh yeah, there.

I pull my shirt on.

”When can we meet up?”

”Mac, listen, this was fun, but I don’t think-”

���Yeah, yeah, just stop. You say the same shit every time. Just face it, it’s not like you’re gonna find someone better. What we have is fine.”

”What we ha- You know what? Not now. I’m late. We’ll talk later.”

Mac’s reply ”see you tonight” rings in my ears as a disheartening taunt, a threat, a promise and, unfortunately, most likely a fact.

The city streets are filled with people who just can’t seem to understand that they are in my way and not moving quickly enough. The ride on the bus takes longer than it usually does. Seoul flies by, colours, sounds, smells all mixing together. What if I don't see Mac tonight? What if I do? Will he be angry if I'm alone? If I decide to be by myself will I end up going back anyway?

My body is tense and I check the time every few seconds, half waiting and half dreading the famous message I’m about to receive.

| What degree would you like me to set the air fryer to?

Actually, no. That one would be Minho when he’s not in his all-consuming choreographer mode, but when I’m just late for a coffee date etc. Nah, the text I’m about to get is from the team.

*Ping*

Called. It.

| Jinnie: What temp should Min set the air fryer to?

| Felix: I’ve hidden it, don’t worry

They’re hilarious.

| Y/N: eta 3 min

I’m usually late when I sleep over at Mac’s. It feels like a cycle, an unhealthy one at that. Are cycles ever positive? I digress.

We officially broke up over three months ago. Why did we do that again? Did we ever really? Bitch, please. I’m the one who called it off because I felt like there was a rhino sitting on my chest whenever we were together. But then… I don’t know. The rhino became a constant presence, and without another body close to mine it wiggles and jumps and dances. Sex is a distraction. But it’s never quite what I need. Maybe I'm the problem? Maybe I'm too much in my head? Maybe I'm bad at it? It’s more of a sport, really. At least dancing makes me sweaty and satisfied. 

Speaking of.

After what seems like 3 hours to me, the packed bus finally glides to my stop and I squeeze myself out from between two suits smelling of expensive Sauvage. The perfume stays with me as I speed to the studio on the 10th floor.

Almost there. Already sweaty.

I toss my bag and jacket, bow as deep as I can without falling over and join the warm up.

The next half an hour is grueling.

”Hey you,” Felix sighs as he slumps down next to me. He’s panting nearly as hard as me.

Thank goodness it’s not just me being out of shape, Minho is really working us today.

I wish I was focusing on him, his freckles and that incredible blonde hair that’s sticking to his forehead and neck. Instead I’m stuck staring at the luminescent rectangle in my hand, at the text underneath a number that should’ve been deleted long ago.

| Can you grab some toilet paper on your way over?

”You alright?”

”Yeah, I’m fine,” I sigh and discard the phone back into my bag. Airplane mode on, obviously, no phones during practice.

Felix stays quiet, fiddling with the strings on his hoodie.

”What’s up with Hyung today?”

”Right?” I leap at the opportunity to distract myself from the message I just received, but its effect on my mood is evident.

But Felix is his gentle self and doesn’t push it. He knows it’s not the time or place. He knows I don’t much care for talking in general.

”Break’s over! C’mon!”

We’ve been a dance team for a while, me, Felix, Hyunjin, Jisung and Elle. Three months to be exact. Minho focuses on the choreos but sometimes the formations he comes up with require pairings, and so he hops back in to where he originally began; dancing with his friends. I met them all during Minho’s classes, Hyunjin first at contemporary, Elle and Felix in street styles.

When my dear friend opened his dance school a few years back I attended it as more of a ”supportive friend” sort of thing, but ended up loving it so much there was nothing to do but become a standard fixture in Minho’s classes.

Then one September evening after a particularly sweaty contemporary class Min asked if I��d have the guts to try out for a team he was putting together. I almost started crying because of how touched I was that he wanted me to join so desperately.

It felt like magic, the way we all just clicked. We have ambition, Minho’s choreographies and just a shit-load of fun together. I didn’t even completely comprehend how far Minho’s reputation had spread before I found out that Felix had flown all the way from Australia just to attend his workshop. And now, here he is, next to me, practicing the most difficult combo I’ve ever witnessed Minho do.

I have the best time with all of them, no matter what we do. But Felix… he’s so kind and bright and pure like a fresh summer breeze. While my humor is more on the dark side (thank you, Min), we get along much better than I dared hope. My only ”problem” is that he never seems to be in a bad mood, and I don’t trust people without a dark side. He’s competitive, absolutely, and gets a little frustrated when he doesn’t learn a choreography as fast as he’d like. But according to him, when I compared his outbursts in those situations to mine or Elle’s, he just shrugged and smiled, stating that he’s a slow learner and that’s okay.

What gets him mad? What shakes him up? What makes those dark eyes darker? Maybe I'll find out some day.

”Min, one more time, please?” Elle pleads, eyes big, chest heaving, t-shirt soaked.

We four hum in agreement.

Practice runs until three pm. as agreed and I realize the rest of my Saturday is free.

Well, I mean… Mac is waiting for the toilet paper.

Minho startles me as his strong hands land on my shoulders.

"YA!" I snap and flip around.

His forehead is coated with sweat, hair sticking to it like running ink. My face expresses the distain for the previous gesture, but it's hard to keep an insulted composure when he looks at me like this; the small, mischievous smile more than familiar.

"Just coming to compliment you, but fine."

"Go on then."

"Why were you late?"

"Ha!"

My exclamation holds confidence, but as soon as Minho's eyebrows reach for the ceiling and his eyes turn worried, the façade shakes. He knows about Mac. He knows as much as I let him, but being a close friend has probably granted him the burden of seeing through my words. It's difficult to hide the calls and constant texts. And the running mascara.

"I'm here you know, just let me know if you need anything." This time his strong hand is gentle as it grips my shoulder. I nod and reach for my bag.

"Thank you, I know. It's all good."

"Why don't we have a proper movie night? Maybe some drinks?" Minho leans down to search for my gaze. Instead of waiting for my answer, he hurries towards Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix and Elle, all four of them already heading out. "You guys free tonight?"

I feel giddy from the idea of spending time with my friends.... beats having to be a delivery girl by a thousand miles. Well, that's not completely fair, I stay at Mac's house so it's only fair that I buy stuff too. But seeing my team smile and nod eagerly and immediately start making plans on what, where and when is like serotonin of a different kind. It's calmer than the energy that comes from dancing, it's more comfortable than explosive, if that makes sense.

So a plan is made: we'll all meet at Minho's house in two hours. I'll get the wine, Hyunjin is in charge of chips, Felix is on dip duty, Jisung will bring the sweets and Elle takes care of the donuts. Minho will order the pizzas.

"Hey Y/N, I uh..." Felix opens the building door for me as we all make our way out. He looks a little nervous, but I can't see why that would be the case. Did I do something to upset him today? Was I rude? Did he want to tell me off for being late again?

"I don't really need to head home, mind if I just come to your house with you and we can head to hyung's together?"

Oh. That's all? I sigh in relief and smile, both at his question and my own thought process. He's never been to my house but I don't see why that's a problem.

"Sure, yeah, let's go catch the bus."

The bus is as full as when I arrived four hours ago. Felix and I are squeezed together, chest to back at first, but I get frustrated with not being able to reply when he talks next to my ear, so I flip around after the first two stops. His neck is in my eyeline, I find his eyes by tilting my head up. I'm so happy he's not Mac.

"You don't wanna shower or anything?"

"Do I smell?" he smirks.

"No! No, that's not what I- I mean just that-"

"Calm down," Felix chuckles, his chest vibrating against mine. His tongue quickly swipes across his lips. "You have a point, I guess I didn't really think about it."

"You can shower at mine," I shrug and feel my phone buzz deep in the pocket of my hoodie. It seems irrelevant, all I'm focused on is watching Felix's cheeks and ears change color. I don't think there's any need to be shy about such things, a shower is such a normal need and I so happen to have one at my place, as well as a clean towel and some shampoo. I always have this need to make people feel at home at my apartment, even if they haven't been there before. My goal is that it's easy for them to be with me and around me if that's a space I want to give them. And Felix has more than earned his space these past months.

Why does every suit wear Sauvage nowadays?

We laugh at nothing, damn near skipping our way to the elevator.

As the doors open to reveal the end of my blissful Saturday standing in the hallway, I find myself wishing that Felix had come home with me any other night. The rhino suddenly leaps onto my torso again, begins a little jig and my feet go a little numb. Tonight sounded too good to be true anyway.

"Where have you been?"

The text from earlier... I could've prevented this. Ignore the question, he knows where I've been.

"Felix, this is Mac, Mac, this is Felix."

Mac doesn't take Felix's outstretched hand, only stares at him up and down. I want to smack his judgmental jawline.

"Oh... uh. Hey, man... what's up?" Felix uses the hand meant for a polite handshake to rub the back of his neck.

"I'm her boyfriend."

"Ex-boyfriend," I specify abruptly, sending a pleading look at Felix to... well, I don't know what.

"What are you?" the owner of the rhino asks, voice as judgmental as his expression.

This is normal. Mac never got along with any of my friends. That's how boyfriends are. Or some boyfriends. We're meant to spend time together by ourselves and then we both keep our own friends as separate entities. He didn't want me to get jealous of his pretty friends. And of course he shouldn't have to see me being happy with other guys.

I fumble with my key and feel Mac's eyes burning my skin very uncomfortably. Maybe if I take too long, Mac will leave?

"Open up, I've been here for like... ten minutes."

"You knew I had practice."

"How was I supposed to remember what time it ends?"

He hasn't remembered before, why would he now? But we didn't make plans this time, but... I did, with my teammates.

"What's he doing here?" 

Mac pushes past me into the apartment, practically shoving me against the door. Felix's arm flies behind my back to stop me from falling.

My place is small, about 25 square feet which is really all I need. I try to keep it tidy, but every corner here screams "hectic lifestyle". Felix takes off his Converse immediately which makes me smile. I probably should be embarrassed by him seeing the laundry and dishes, but who doesn't have those in their apartment? Having two guys in here though... that's a little out of the ordinary.

"Felix and I just came to swing by, we're heading to Minho's for a movie night-"

"What? I thought we were hanging out?"

"I never said that! Minho asked and we all thought it was a great idea-"

”I drove all this way to get you!”

He did. He drove the whole five blocks for me.

”I know, okay,” I sigh and cross my arms. It hurts to turn to look at Felix, whose expression is completely unfamiliar to me. But his eyes aren't on me, they're on the man currently slumping onto my couch, I hear the heels of his shoes hit the small table in front of it. I wish he wouldn't do that.

I step between them. The rhino standing on me makes it hard to move. ”I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I'll just text Minho. I’m so sorry for this Lix… dragging you here…”

Those beautiful brown eyes soften as he turns to me, it almost looks like he's reaching for me.

”You didn’t-”

”Lix? Are you a cat?” Mac laughs at his own quip.

He’s not funny, but at least he tries? I guess. But it’s not funny when it’s aimed at my friend.

”Shut up,” I reply. ”There’s no room for that with so many burgers in your name.”

Felix chuckles low and glances at me, hands in his pockets. I’m happy I make him laugh, it feels like an achieved goal. His smile falls quickly when his gaze does the same; he sees me throwing my bag over my shoulder and my feet inching back towards my discarded shoes next to the door.

”You really shouldn’t try to be funny,” the burger scoffs from the couch, grabbing a fistful of sourcream chips from the bowl on the table. I made him angry with my joke, I knew I shouldn't have said it. ”Or eat these, I thought we talked about this,” he mumbles as they turn to mush in his mouth.

He’s right, we have talked about it. Mac has said many times that he’s noticed how they make my face bloat. He’s right, I’m trying to be a good dancer, after all, I need to look the part.

I hum in response and lean down to tie my laces.

”You ready or what? What’s taking so long?”

”Almost!” I reply fast.

I return to an upright position so quick my head spins, but I have to hurry because Mac is getting impatient. I'm already mentally preparing to head for the door, when a sudden chill runs through me.

”Felix?” I stare at his expression, from the side his eyes look black. I hold out my hand, my trembling fingers reach for his arm but before they make their landing, he steps towards Mac.

”Leave.”

I’ve never heard a voice so low, it’s primitive and raw. Mac freezes in his spot, chips stilling in his mouth.

”Now.”

”Excuse me?”

”Lix, I-”

”No, I’m sorry. Excuse me. Let me be more clear.”

Felix approaches Mac slowly.

”Get off your ass, walk to the door, open it, step out of it and then close it. I don't care what the fuck you get up to after that, but leave my sight right now, or I won't be responsible for my actions.”

Mac looks at Felix, then me. His expression emits complete disbelief. I don't move for an instant, but when I see Felix's head begin to tilt to the left, his back so tense he's shaking, I'm flooded with the strength of the small army he and I form together. I stare back at my ex, eyes ablaze, and cross my arms.

Mac scoffs and stomps toward the exit.

"You're just a mess of red flags, Y/N, psycho friends and all this shit, good luck finding someone to fuck!"

The silence that follows the slammed door is deafening. My hands fall to my sides slowly, the rhino walks away. I can't stop staring at the bowl of chips next to the couch. Why shouldn't I eat those if I like them? Why should I go just because he tells me to? I can find people to fuck me, to love me... I-I think I can. Right now I think I can.

”Thank you.”

”I’m so sorry,” Felix says speedily and his voice overlaps with mine. He pulls me in for a one-sided hug. I can’t respond out of the confusion in my brain.

”Sorry? For what?”

"I know you don't need saving, I just lost it, I'm so sorry if I hurt you by treating you as someone helpless, you're not, at all!"

Only Felix could turn doing something so kind and hot and decent into something to apologize for. I reach for the sides of his head which is now buried in my shoulder. He's still shaking.

"Lix, look at me."

He does.

"You did nothing wrong, thank you. I mean it. He needed to hear that. As did I."

His lower lip trembles.

"Oh come here, silly," I pull him back to the hug he began. Arms flung around my torso tightly, we remain like that and just breathe together until I feel his vibrating muscles calm.

So, that's what he's like when he's mad. That's one of his buttons; he's protective of his friends. Interesting, sort of obvious and very fitting.

Felix has to crouch, almost fold over to have his head reach the crook of my neck. This is the first time he's ever felt tall and small simultaneously, it's endearing. I'm suddenly very conscious about the fact that I haven't showered yet when I feel his nose brush the nape of my neck. My breathing pauses from the feeling. I hope I don't smell. Why did that feel so... intimate?

His arms tighten and he inhales deeply. Shivers travel throughout my existence and I have to force out an exhale.

"Are you okay?" Felix straightens up and focuses all his attention towards my eyes. It's magnetic, I just stare back. His eyes are brown again. I've never noticed that freckle next to his eyebrow.

"Y-Yeah, I'm good..." I mumble and then realize what I said.

The rhino is actually gone. I can breathe. I test the thought in practice and start smiling, the full kind.

"I'm good. I'm good! That felt so, so good! Felix, oh my god. Thank you for standing up to Mac, oh my god, I feel okay, I really do!"

I prance and hop around my apartment, blabbering all the while. My friend laughs aloud with a bright expression, his hip to one side, weight on one leg and hands in his pockets.

"I'm happy to hear it. I'm sorry I got so angry though," he goes serious.

"No, no, I loved it!"

"Huh?"

I stop mid jump and feel like what I just blurted out is floating in front of me like a subtitle. Without knowing my thought process I can see how this could be confusing.

"He's gone," I sigh and turn to look at Felix. "He's gone, and it's good. I love that you did what would've taken me another six months of my life to finally do."

The whole team knows we started dancing together around the time me and Mac "broke up". I watch realization spread onto Lix's handsome features and wonder what it is he realized. That I was too weak to be alone? That I basically lied about the break up and that I've been seeing Mac this whole time? That I'm an idiot? That I'm pathetic?

"Has he been like that to you the whole time?" His eyes are dark again.

That's a tricky question in a sense. I really want to say he wasn't like that at first. That he changed. But maybe he was always like that and I was just too into him to see it. We disappeared from my friends' sight so quickly that no one in my social group really ever got to know him before the bigger fights began. Maybe they would've seen that he was a walking red flag.

"I'm not sure, actually. I think... it may have changed around the time he found out about my anxiety," my voice is small. I find refuge on the bed because the couch seems to still have his ass print on it. "I-I... Well, what really helps me when I get anxious, like have an attack or something, is physical contact. Mac made me feel like... I guess he made me feel like he was the only one who wants to help me. So even though I always felt heavy with him, and I did, truly, I feel so small and- well, just wrong when I'm with him it just... It felt like a better option than the wrong way I feel when I'm by myself. Whenever being alone got too much and I needed someone to hold me, hug me, touch me... love me, I'd go back to him. I guess I think it's better than being alone. And sometimes I just freeze and stare at everything this effects in my life; my family, friends, the team... I love dancing with you guys so much, but if I keep being late and just fucking everything up, I don't know what'll happen... Great, here I go. I'm sorry."

Tears have begun to run down my cheeks all the way to my hoodie. I didn't look at Felix once during my monologue, it felt so personal and self-reflective that I should've been on a leather futon in a therapist's office. All of a sudden he lands in front of me, knees colliding with the floor.

"Don't apologize, please."

Felix's hands envelope mine and he squeezes them gently. "I'm so sorry you've had to go through all this. If I'd known... He's an asshole, you don't need him. You have so many people who'd be happy to help you with whatever you need. People who adore you."

His hands protecting mine feels comforting, but there's something very exciting about his touch. I'm happy I'm crying, because it hides the real reason I think I'm shivering right now. But it's Felix... I mean it's Lee Felix, he's my friend. My teammate. I mean... have I thought about what he's hiding underneath his clothes, what he'd look like out of them and under me? Sure, yeah, of course. Obviously. But never in a serious manner. I haven't even let myself think about having a new crush. There's only been Mac. The one whose supposed to be the only one to love and take care of me... I imagine what sex would be like with everyone I dance with, I guess. How can someone who's been having sex regularly be so horny? Maybe it speaks to the satisfaction level of the activity. Or the one offering the services. I digress. What is it about Felix that makes our contact so monumental all of a sudden? 

And now I know he can get mad, his eyes do get darker. And it happened as he protected me. I loved it. It's like I've unlocked a new level.

My tears cease, the last two fall when I smile.

"Thanks, Lix, that's sweet."

"I mean it, I... We really care for you. And if you ever need company or anything, you know, just call me- or any of us!"

His eyes haven't left our joint hands once.

This would be the perfect moment to kiss him.

As if reading my mind, his eyes find mine. They're big and beautiful, glowing. He's glowing.

This is the wrong time to kiss him, or anyone. It's not fair, I'm just fragile and excited and frazzled, and anything that could happen now could just as easily be me trying to control these roaring emotions with something concrete. That something should be taking a shower, not kissing my friend.

But he's so beautiful and staring at me and just right there, looking so ready for the taking.

SHOWER, WOMAN. DO IT NOW.

My hands fly to Felix's cheeks and his eyes light up even brighter. I smack a dry kiss onto his forehead and get up clumsily.

"Thank you, you're amazing. Really, I'm so happy we're friends," I chirp, heading to the closet to grab fresh towels for us both. I toss the yellow one to him just as he's getting up, eyes now on the ground, the corners of his lips seem to curve down. He must not like forehead kisses. "Let's talk more okay, I really do want to go through this properly, but I really need a shower first. Just make yourself at home."

An accepting hum follows me to the bathroom.

I'm quick when I shower, but I'm happy that Felix took my comment to heart and relaxed enough to sit on my bed in the five minutes I spent away from the shared space. He smiles quickly and heads straight for the shower after me. The door slams shut. It feels aggressive.

Did he look sad? Mad? Annoyed? I'm not the best at going through this, deep conversations I mean. How do I express how grateful I am for what he did? I've never been in this situation, having someone kick another someone out of my apartment, having someone stand up for me. Granted, it was a coincidence Felix was here and saw Mac in action, I'm lucky to have friends who would've kicked his ass months ago if I'd given them the go-ahead. But maybe Felix wanted me to kiss him? But why would he? Would that have been a good thank you? Did he feel like I wasn't being fair? That I'd kiss someone like Mac but not him? Not Felix... surely he wouldn't- I pray he doesn't think that. He's not the guy who thinks I should "repay" him. He's not.

While my mind rolls me down this very steep hill I somehow find my way into comfortable yet clean clothes. We should really get going.

"Hey, mind if I borrow a hoodie? I didn't bring a change of clothes and would be nice to throw on something fresh."

I can't breathe, he's gorgeous, the towel flung over his other shoulder while his sweats hang low on his defined hips.

SPEAK.

"Yeah, yeah, sure, yeah, of course, that's fine."

I toss him a hoodie just like I did the towel fifteen minutes prior, he catches it just as easily. Only this time I can see the muscles that work while that movement happens.

"We should really get going."

We should, and we do. Felix is a tacit conversational partner the entire way to Minho's, mostly because I'm so nervous I'm blabbing his ears off. The quiet, very clean creature next to me doesn't seem to mind the listening role though, so I keep going until we get to Minho's apartment.

"What took you so long?" a fresh-out-of-the-shower Minho groans loudly.

"We're early!" I reply and shove a wine bottle into each of his free hands. Felix chuckles. "Jinnie, Ji and Elle aren't even here yet!"

"I'm hungry now, and I assumed you'd be earlier to make up for being late again today!"

We make our way to the kitchen.

"YA! You know I'm sorry!"

"Your apologies mean nothing to me."

"Hyung," Felix shakes his head solemnly.

Everything goes quiet. Minho's look jumps from me to Felix, obviously annoyed he doesn't understand, not knowing what he's supposed to not talk about. It's really not fair, and I don't want Felix thinking he's not allowed to talk about what happened, how he helped me.

Fine, I'll just come clean.

"I've been late because I've been sleeping over at Mac's. A-And sleeping with Mac."

Minho's eyes widen.

 "And when I do that I... I loose sense of everything else. I'm sorry, Min."

"But we're gonna help her now," Felix's soft smile makes me tear up again. "So she'll realize she doesn't need him."

I believe Felix.

"Felix kicked him out of my apartment today."

Minho's whole being brighten's up. "Really?"

"Yeah, and I'll do my best to keep him out."

"And we'll help," Min replies and reaches out his hand. "Phone."

After a moment of misplaced incredulous staring, as if I didn't know the next step was necessary, I hand it over. With a few calculated, overjoyed swipes and clicks, Minho does his part to ensure that Mac's gone. I have the best friends. The thought floats in my head like a proud flag I proudly fly, but then the door bell rings. And ten minutes later it does the same thing. And I only get more proud from there.

The rest of the night is amazing. I haven't felt this light in millenniums. The five of us indulge in wine, chips, pizza, donuts and movies. It's exactly what life should feel like. Sometimes I catch Felix staring at me. His response to our gazes connecting is either a swift redirection of his head or a goofy face. I'm sure I made him uncomfortable somehow. Maybe he thinks that I know what that thing was and wants me to not feel bad about it. Because he's kind and selfless that way. But the thing is that I don't know what the damn thing is. The drink swirling in my wine glass isn't wine, it changed into a demonic version of a Gin & Tonic two full glasses ago. It's Sprite and Gin, the two ingredients Minho has in his apartment, if you don't count milk. Which I do not. The blasphemy still goes down fairly easily, and I'm finding it harder and harder to stop staring at my beautiful, blonde savior. I need to know what made him make those faces as well as how he feels about everything that went down - and didn't go down - at my apartment.

I'm pretty sure my brain is demanding things I shouldn't really demand of him. He doesn't owe me anything, it's the other way around really. But I don't want to repay him physically. I mean I do... but only as a disguise to hide the fact I really do want to touch him and feel him. Okay, I'm going over the rails. I set down my glass, slowing down the drinking to make my thoughts calmer, but... when did I empty this? Never mind.

"Y/N-ya, it's almost one, you need to go or you're going to miss the last bus," Minho's voice rings from the kitchen. One? How can it already be one in the morning? "Wanna sleep over?" he continues after a slight pause, mouth obviously full of something. I've taken shelter in his lovely home countless times, but somehow I feel like going home. Today has been such a hurricane.

"Nah, thanks," I get up and skip to the kitchen, pulling my best friend in for a hug. "But brunch tomorrow?"

Minho nods against my shoulder. He hugs me tighter than usual. He utters the next sentences without lifting his head.

"I'm fucking glad that he's gone. I wish I'd known you were still... Anyway, call me, Felix, anyone else when you get low okay?"

My turn to move my head up and down. I hear the quietest, most fragile "I love you" before he straightens up and ruffles my hair sloppily. "Get going, or you'll have to run!"

I give Hyunjin, Jisung and Elle their goodbye squeezes, but as I'm rashly moving closer to Felix's torso on the couch, he captures my hands in his and fixes his eyes on mine, this time obviously wanting me to notice. They're slightly glossy, a little red, as is his nose. An intense feeling burns through me as his skin glues to mine, identical to this afternoon.

"I was thinking of heading out too, can I make sure you get home okay?"

I swallow and nod.

We stand about twenty feet from the bus stop as we watch the vehicle drive by, almost empty. I let out a laugh. Last night bus, cab costs an arm and a leg, walking takes an hour and it's freezing. So...

"Well, back to Minho's I guess," I rub my hands together and glance at Felix, ready to turn back to the mini party only a few minutes back the way we came. "I can wait for your bus with you if you want,  where does it-"

"I can walk, I... I live pretty close."

"But..." I mumble and stare at the imaginary Google Maps opening in my brain. "You could've just gone home to shower today then, you didn't have to come to my house. I thought you lived so far that it wouldn't have made any sense for you to..." my voice disappears when the shyest and most embarrassed smile I've ever witnessed starts to adorn his features.

"Yeah... I live like, fifteen minutes from here. I just... I don't know, I just wanted to hang out. With you."

"Why?"

Felix laughs, loud, incredulous, glancing up at the dark heavens. "Why? 'Cause you're amazing, that's why. I've been... shit, okay... I've been wanting to hang out alone with you for weeks. I've had a crush on you since- well I guess since the first time I saw you in class months ago. It was just physical at first, I think, but then we got into the same team and you just... every day you just turn out to be cooler and cooler and I've just been gathering the guts to fucking ask you out... I was going to ask today, but then we made these plans, so I just used that to try to steal a few moments alone with you. But then..."

I gulp.

"We met that asshole who made me lose my shit, and I'm still just so sorry I got angry, but I just needed to get him out, I mean, how could he talk to you like that? Treat you like that? And then when you cried and I held your hands for the first time, all I wanted to do was kiss you, and I thought you wanted the same thing, and I'm so sorry for that."

We've made our way to lean against the apartment block's stone wall side by side, eyes on the ground. But the flood of questions that take over my brain at this apology physically fling my gaze to him.

"I'm sorry I was thinking of something like that when you were so vulnerable. You obviously didn't want that, you made it really clear with how fast you left the room and how nervous you've been since... I made you uncomfortable, and I'm so, so sorry. It was never my intention. And... well, the more I think about it, the sillier the thought of you wanting to go out with me feels-"

"Why? Because you're kind? Handsome? Funny? Talented? Intelligent?" I blurt and turn to stand in front of him. "Felix..." I whisper and take his hands into mine, suddenly shy again, since I can't seem to look up. "You didn't make me uncomfortable. Not at all. The reason I did this," I repeat the forehead kiss, only slower. His body goes fully stiff. "And ran into the shower was so I wouldn't kiss you right then. It didn't feel fair."

"What do you mean?" his voice is low and hoarse, chin tilting up so his eyes reach mine. How can someone look this ethereal?

"Because... I didn't want you to think that I was only doing it because I was trying to get over Mac. I haven't let myself think about anyone else since we started going out and I... Now, I feel desperate to just forget about him and find something better. I want to believe I deserve it, it's a lot of work but because of you, what you did today, I think I can. I just... desperately need to get him out of my system. I want something more."

"You deserve it. You deserve so much," he whispers and I watch his Adam's apple bounce.

How does alcohol give me so much confidence? Four drinks ago I would've turned as red as a tomato and moved away, but now my eyes stay on the man in front of me as he slowly straightens up and is suddenly towering over my short form. But when Felix towers, it's safe and strong, not intimidating in the slightest.

"I'd like to help you think about someone else."

"I want to kiss you," I bring our hands up, placing them between our chests. "But only because I want to kiss you, Felix, not just anyone. You."

"B-But I don't want you to feel like-"

"Shh... I don't. I want you. I just don't want to hurt you, because I don't know what my heart can take at the moment, I can't promise that I'll be a good person to date right now, I-"

"What if..." Felix gently lifts my chin higher with his thumb as his voice trails off softly. "We just... kiss good night, and then I'll take you on a date tomorrow... Let's see how it goes and... take it from there. Sound good?"

"Mhm."

"Yeah?" he grins before leaning down to press his lips against mine. Right before they touch, he hesitates. He's kind. Too kind. His breath beckons me, calls for me to close the gap.

They're so soft. I need to grip hold of his hoodie just to stay upright as we melt together. Felix's hands pull me closer by my waist, I feel him crumpling up my hoodie too. He tastes like sprite, it's heavenly. The good night kiss turns into a much longer goodbye, as we slowly explore how our lips and tongues fit together. I could stay here forever. I can't remember anyone I've ever gone on a date with, dated, let alone kissed before this. It's heavenly. It's all just... heavenly.

Today, I found two things that make Felix's eyes darken. That's really exciting. They're almost black when they open as we pull away from each other, but return to the gentle chocolate shade when he smiles.

"Good night," I whisper and give him one more peck, which almost turns into a another session.

I wave shyly as I watch him disappear behind the corner. I don't know how I'll get to sleep. Or how I'm going to explain this grin that just won't. Go. Down.

The next day I have brunch with Minho, and Felix and I head to the movies in the evening. That date turns into another, and another... and another. By the time Christmas comes around, we've been together almost every day. I've found a lot of things that make Felix's eyes darken.

But since we've been together, I haven't been late to practice once. Okay, once, but that time we were late together.

[atc74]

Soul to Souls - One

Square(s) Filled: None for this chapter

Warnings: Mentions of death, wolf hunt, Sassy OC, Guilt Ridden!Dean, so many more to come

Summary: Since she was four years old, Annaleigh has seen the same boy in her dreams. For twenty-five years, she grows to love the boy that has now turned into a man. Dean Winchester just lost the only family he has ever known. The guilt drives him to work harder than ever before. He works to forget the pain, until he meets Annaleigh and she turns his world upside down. What she learns changes both of their lives forever, but what will he do when he discovers the truth? Will he accept it or run back to the only life he has ever known?

Pairing: Dean x  OC Annaleigh (evenutally)

Word Count: 1974

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches​, @katehuntington, thank you both for being my guides! Dividers by the amazingly talented @talesmaniac89​.

A/N: This was my very first series I ever wrote four years ago in September 2016 and I am so happy and proud to bring this back home. 

Like Dean’s scent? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker!

There are things that go bump in the night. Monsters, demons and the like. This isn’t about human monsters or the fact that we all have our demons. No, this is about real monsters. Vampires, werewolves, black-eyed bastards; things you have nightmares about. If your kid says there is something in his closet, don’t go look. Grab your family and run.

Dean Winchester and his brother, Sam, hunt the non-human monsters of the world. They were raised to be hunters. Their mother was killed by a demon when Dean was only four. Sammy was still a baby, six months old at the time. That night, their dad packed up and moved the family from town to town, doing his best to eradicate the evils that plague our planet. Heaven and Hell, angels and demons, God and Lucifer; it’s all real. 

Since the age of four, the constant moving and fighting evil was the only life Dean can remember and the only life Sammy has ever known. This isn’t just what they do, it is who they are. 

Their dad was killed by a demon about four years ago, when he made a deal to save his eldest son's life. That was the turning point for Dean; he finally understood his father’s need for vengeance, for justice. It had just been Sam and Dean ever since. The only family they had left was Bobby Singer - hunter, lore expert and surrogate father - to keep them on the not so straight and narrow path through this life. 

It had been just the two of them, until Sam inadvertently started the Apocalypse and ended up in Hell, in the cage with the Devil himself. Now, Dean was flying solo, feeling like he was losing his way. Dean chastised himself for not doing more; not being able to save his brother. Everything was written in the Heavens many millennia ago. Dean didn’t know that there was nothing he could have done to save his brother. 

Dean spent days, nights, weeks on the road; for months he drove. He followed one hunt after another, never stopping. Wherever Bobby needed him or whatever he could find on his own, he went there to keep busy. It didn’t matter how big or small the threat; Dean took it without question. He needed it. He needed the action, the danger, the adrenaline. Anything to keep his mind off Sammy. Anything.  

Ever since Sammy was taken from him, Dean had felt empty inside. The adrenaline of the hunt felt good for a moment, until he finished and remembered he was all alone once more. He wished he couldn’t feel anything, well, most of the time anyway. Until he met her. That was three months ago.

Bobby had asked Dean to look into a possible werewolf case on his way back from another hunt, so there he was in a sleepy little podunk town in Idaho. The view wasn’t bad, but he really wanted out of there as quickly as the hunt would allow. He checked into a run-down motel and quickly went in search of food, beer, whiskey, and pie, not necessarily in that order. He could already smell the rain permeating the mountain air. He just hoped it held out long enough. 

Not far from the motel, he found a bar with only a few cars in the lot. Walking through the front door, he noticed three guys shoulder to shoulder watching something mindless on the bar television. One bartender, one waitress. Easy, Dean thought to himself, as he slid into the corner booth where he could keep an eye on both entrances.  

The waitress approached his table. She was short, cute, and curvy. She had a nice smile, the bluest eyes he had ever seen, and straight red hair, up to her chin. Dean looked away quickly before her eyes met his. 

“What can I get you?” she asked, not too sweetly, just a little bit of an edge to her voice, like she had had enough tonight.

“Whiskey, neat. Beer, bacon cheeseburger, fries,” he replied without looking up.

Without a word, she walked away. She returned soon enough with the whiskey and a bottle of beer, setting them down sharply on the table. “Sorry,” she mumbled and turned to walk back to the bar. 

Dean sat in the booth, scrolling through his phone while he waited for his meal, looking at pictures he had of his little brother. He didn’t need this down time, thinking about Sammy rotting in Hell. It was a new form of torture, one he was a little too intimately familiar with. 

A chuckle escaped Dean’s lips when he saw the picture he had snapped of the drool hanging out of Sam’s mouth during a case in Utah. Dean kept scrolling through the pictures, landing on one he didn’t remember. He was standing next to Baby, his pride and joy, a 1967 jet black Chevrolet Impala, with Sam by his side, both of them with a cold beer in their hands. Sam was laughing at something without a doubt hilarious that Dean had said. When was this taken? He thought. Then it hit him: this was after Dean was cured of the ghost sickness and they all thought he was a goner. Bobby, that sneaky bastard, must have snapped that photo, Dean thought to himself. He kept looking at Sam in the picture, how happy he looked, how happy they both looked. Was it because he said something funny or was Sam just glad that he was able to save Dean for once? Dammit! I was the big brother. I was supposed to look out for Sammy. And I let him down. Again, Dean thought to himself.

A soft hand on his cheek startled him, bringing him back to the dingy bar. Slowly and gently, the waitress with the piercing blue eyes wiped away a tear he didn’t even know he had shed before she sat down across from Dean. “Why so sad, Handsome?” It was just one simple question but he couldn’t even answer her. Where did he even start?

“Oh, nothing you need to worry your pretty little head with, Red.” Dean took the plate she offered and went to pick up his burger. She continued to peer into his soul as if she knew exactly what he was thinking, that he was a failure. 

“You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders and you don’t have to. I can help you, Dean, but only if you let me,” she said quietly, as she looked around the bar as if someone would overhear her words.

He dropped the burger and reached into the back of his pants, his hand on the pistol he had concealed there, finger already on the trigger. 

“Who the fu--” was all he got out before she reached a hand across the table and gripped his wrist lightly, interrupting his anger. 

“Bobby called me last night and told me you were on your way. I was just about to give up and leave.” She continued to gaze at him. “My name is Annaleigh Newmiller. I am a friend of Bobby’s. And, I know what you are going to ask. No, I am not a hunter, I’m just his eyes and ears out here in the boonies.” She let go of his hand, but he could still feel her touch lingering on his skin. 

Dean was more handsome than Annaleigh remembered; a little more rugged and much sadder. But, the same devastating smile and green eyes were there, with just a few more crinkles around them. The same, yet so different. 

Dean collected his thoughts as she looked at him, her gaze never wavering. He did not put the gun away but kept it next to him in the booth. One glance towards the bar indicated the three stooges didn’t even know they were in the back and wouldn’t be interrupting anytime soon. 

He had to get answers from her right now, he didn’t want to walk away to call the old man and risk her skipping out. “Bobby didn’t tell me he had someone out here in the mountains. He didn’t tell me someone would be waiting for me. How do I know you are who you say you are?” 

Slowly, she took an iron knife and a flask out of her apron. She took a sip from the small silver bottle then handed it to him; he checked to make sure it was holy water. Next, she wrapped her small hand around the handle of the knife and slid the blade through the soft flesh on her left forearm, letting a bit of blood bead up on the surface. Not once did she take her eyes off of Dean’s. She removed the purple bandana from its home around her neck and wrapped it around the fresh wound on her arm. 

When she was done, Annaleigh reached over with her right hand, grabbed a french fry off his plate and popped it in her mouth. “Field to fryer... good, aren’t they?”

Dean continued to watch her, slack jawed, while she ate more of his fries. Finally, Dean picked one up and brought it to his lips, taking a bite. She was right, they were good. Hold on, what the hell? Fries!? She’s distracting me from who she really is. He leaned forward in the booth grabbing her wrist with his free hand as she reached for another french fry.  

“Why don’t you start by telling me who the hell you are and what you know!” He didn’t exactly yell it, but it was loud enough that it brought an unwelcome glance from the bartender, who looked at Annaleigh, sternly, but she just nodded to let him know she was okay, and he turned back to the TV on the wall.

“Like I said before; my name is Annaleigh. Bobby was a friend of my brother’s. My brother... Well, he’s dead now, but every now and then Bobby calls, asks me to look into something for him. I have lived here in the mountains most of my life and I work here at the bar for extra cash. I’m a massage therapist full time and I work from home.” She was giving Dean the whole nine yards. He asked for it, so he just sat there, listening. And, boy, she had a lot more to say. 

“I am 29, I’m a Leo, my middle name is Grace. I enjoy strong men and stronger coffee. I like country music and classic rock. Yeah, an odd combination, I know. I do not and will not put up with other people’s bullshit. Anyway, a couple days ago, a body turned up in the woods behind my house. The heart was missing. I called the sheriff, and he said it was an animal attack. Animal, my ass. So, I called Bobby. I already figured it was a werewolf from all the research I have done in the past for my brother, but I needed him to send someone, because, while I know about the life and the lore, I don’t hunt. He said you were on your way back to his place from Oregon. How did you like the drive through the mountains? Can I get you another round?” 

He mulled over everything she had said. She didn’t seem like she was bullshitting him, but maybe just a little reluctant to get into the thick of it. He finally let go of her wrist and put his gun away. Dean picked up his burger and took a bite before speaking, ignoring the questions she had asked him. “Well, Red... looks like I have a wolf that needs putting down. Why don’t I finish up here and you show me where this body was found?”

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it! 

Soul to Souls tags: @emoryhemsworth​ @flamencodiva​ @iwantthedean​ @jensengirl83​ @deanwanddamons​ @smol-and-grumpy​ @waywardbeanie​ @whatareyousearchingfordean​ @princessmisery666​ @spnbaby-67​ @shy-violet-soul​ @lastcallatrockysbar​ @winchesterxfamilybusiness​

[missweber]

Lardo Week Day 2: accident

Here is my entry for day 2 of @lardo-week

Chapter 2 - happy accidents 

(chapter 1 can be found here)

One of Larissa's very first studio assignments at Samwell didn't actually take place in the studio. To fulfill the assignment, they had to go to a sports practice and fill a number of sketchbook pages with gesture drawings of athletes in motion.

As an assignment, it was a darned good one that she normally would have enjoyed. The only problem was that Boston was in the middle of a heat wave and even teams that had practice at ass-o-clock in the morning would be sweating through their jocks and/or sports bras in five seconds flat.

In short, yuck.

(Also, Lardo had already learned the hard way that charcoal and copious amounts of sweat were not mixy things.)

She skimmed through the athletic calendar looking for something like 'competitive air-conditioned yoga' but figured in the end that ice hockey—emphasis on the ice—was her best bet.

If it hadn't been for her phone's battery conking out in the middle of the night and killing her alarm, she would have gone to the women's practice at o' dark early. As it was, she got to Faber after the men's team had already taken to the ice.

She got a few curious glances from the players, but their captain (she assumed it was the captain) barked at them to pay attention to the ice, not the stands. One of the coaches nodded at her sketchbook and asked, "Professor Davila's life drawing class?" without expecting an answer. 

It wasn't until she actually started drawing that Larissa realized why she was the only member of her class who had taken advantage of the cool of the rink. Yes, she had heard of the hockey team's general loudness and obnoxiousness, but that wasn't the problem. The shouts and insults ('chirps,' she would later learn) were a comfortable part of the background along with the swish-swish-swish of the skates and the clatter of the sticks.

The problem was more fundamental than that, and brought with it an echo of her mother's protests of you need to focus on what's practical, sweetie. You need to set yourself up for a successful life.

Practical would mean staying at home and taking the T to school every day. Practical would mean constant, well-meaning, 'we just want the best for you' commentary on her choice of studies.

Well, fuck practical. And what did it mean to be successful, anyway?

A small, exhausted part of her said that successful people didn't have to work at one of the campus dining halls to make up for what her partial scholarship and college fund wouldn't cover.

And drawing hockey players wasn't the most practical way to succeed at this particular assignment. 

Larissa was debating whether or not she should just give up and join the majority of her class at the soccer fields when someone scraped to a halt right in front of where she was sitting.

Whoever it was had better not ask her to 'draw him like one of your French girls,' or he would need a gastroenterologist to remove his hockey stick from his ass. 

"What?" she snarled.

The player wasn't anyone Larissa had met before. She would have recognized that mustache for sure. His eyes were wide, and he held his stick in front of him in both hands like a talisman.

"Wow," mustache-guy said. "I was going to tell you to try to capture my left side, because that's the best angle if you want to do a portrait of me, but _damn _if that isn't the single scariest death glare I have seen in my life! Jack! C'mere! You gotta see this death glare!"

The captain skated over, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "Leave the nice artist alone, Shits." He turned to Larissa. "I apologize. In advance. For everything."

He grabbed mustache-guy by the back of the jersey and skated off with him in tow. 

Mustache-guy flailed and squirmed, but not to the point of actual resistance. "Jaaaaaack! You need to stop and talk to the scary lady! That death glare! Put her on D, and we'll have Brown shaking in their skates!"

The captain (Jack?) mouthed a silent 'sorry!' at her before turning his attention back to practice.  

She had just made up her mind to go draw soccer players for the rest of her assignment when the practice finally ended. She flipped through her sketches and was pleasantly surprised to find that she had nearly two-thirds of what was required.

She was less pleasantly surprised when mustache-guy scraped to a stop in front of her again.

"Um, I know this is really fucking forward of me, and you are totally free to say no—and wow, it's kind of fucked up that I even have to say that, isn't it?—but anyway..."

Oh, god. He was going to ask her out, wasn't he?

"I absolutely get it if you don't want to, completely one-hundred-percent get it, but could I see what you've been drawing?"

Lardo could only stare for a moment. "It's just gesture drawings," she blurted out even as she shoved the sketchbook at him.

"Gesture drawings?" He pulled off one of his gloves with his teeth so he could turn the pages. She could see how he looked at each little sketch in turn, not just skimming, but looking.

"Yeah. We're supposed to focus on capturing how the human form looks in motion."

The figures were roughly blocked out, with the occasional thick and swooping line showing the curve of a spine or sweep of a leg.

"These are really neat," he said after a while. "I mean, they're kind of scribbly in parts, but you can really see what's happening. Hell, I can even tell who some of these guys are!"

'Jack' was a tall, solid figure with classical proportions. "You can see how this this fucker just moves with power! Ah! Adonis made manifest on earth! And that's Johnson if I ever saw him," he said, pointing at a mess of foreshortening.

That was the goalie, captured as he dropped to block a puck, practically folding himself into something out of an Escher drawing in the process.

"Rans and Holster," he said, pointing at a tangle of overlapping forms that were still two separate people even though they occupied the same space. 

He turned to look through the pictures again, which was more flattering than Larissa would ever admit to anyone, while most of the other players headed towards the locker room.

"Thanks," she said. "I'm glad to hear that they work. I was beginning to think that coming here was a mistake."

The betrayed look on his face would have been hilarious if it wasn't so heartbreaking. "Mistake? No! There are no mistakes! Only happy accidents!"

Larissa laughed. "Did you just quote Bob Ross at me?"

"Please don't tell me you're one of those snobby art students who–"

"Bob Ross is awesome the way Mr. Rogers is awesome," she said plainly. "I'm not into his actual paintings, but you gotta love the way he loves what he does."

"Amen," mustache-guy said, sounding more serious than she would have expected. He was looking at his captain—Jack—as he said it.

(It was only after Larissa became Lardo that she would understand even half of what was going on with that look and everything behind it.)

"So why were you worried coming here was a mistake? Please tell me that none of the guys were douchewaffles! I know we're loud, but it's like we're the lacrosse team!"

"Ha! No, Professor Davila warned us away from them. What threw me were the pads. They make it hard to see what's actually going on, anatomy-wise."

She almost regretted that the instant she said it, because she could imagine all of the lewd comments she had just set herself up for.

That didn't happen. All that happened was that Mustache-guy nodded solemnly and Captain Jack glanced over to make sure he didn't need to come over and apologize for something.

"I see. It must be like trying to draw the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man."

"Close enough." She didn't laugh, but she did let a hint of a smile show through the unimpressed look.

"By the way, you can call me Shitty. That's not my real name, but that's actually worse."

"Hey, Shits!" Jack called out. "Ask her if she's interested in the team manager job!"

"Team manager? Like managing your team? The hockey team?" she asked Shitty. Strangely, the name fit him, but not in a bad way.

Shitty nodded.

"I don't know how to skate!" she shouted at Jack.

Jack stared at her as if she had just sprouted two extra heads and a tail. 

Shitty cackled. 

Johnson, who had been hanging around doing not much of anything, muttered something about not being needed after all and left the rink.

Shitty wiped away teas of laughter. "Aw... I think you broke Jack's poor, Canadian brain. Anyhow, skating isn't needed for the job. Dealing with stinky hockey equipment, on the other hand, is."

She shrugged. "It can't be worse than what I smell like after working the deep-fryer all afternoon. What's the pay like?" she asked, because being practical did have its time and place.

The pay wasn't much, but it was better than what the dining hall offered. 

"Well, I'd say this was a successful drawing session," she said as they exchanged fist-bumps. 

"Yup. Here's to happy accidents!"