#anyway this came over me and i had to write it

[wandaslittlebird]

Professor!Wanda Headcanons

I typically don’t write professor/student, but you’ll have to forgive me, I’m experiencing a moment of weakness.

Professor Maximoff was, by no means a well liked professor. Her class was infamously difficult, and most of her students found her cold.

You, however, grasp the subject matter surprisingly well. That never stopped you from coming by her office to “further your studies.”

She liked it when you came by, she told you. “It feels like I’m in here all the time. And no one comes to my office hours anyway. It gets a little dull in here with just me.”

Her office was simply decorated with only a single chair in the corner for students to sit, but as it started to become a regular hang out for you, a nice loveseat mysteriously appeared.

It got to the point where you were talking to her almost every day. You came in in between all your classes, lounging on her loveseat and getting some work done.

Whenever you complained of being hungry, or simply wanting a nice treat for yourself, she handed you her phone, open with DoorDash and her credit card information already loaded in.

She’s started to get very possessive of you. She sees how the other students and professors look at you. She just wants to keep you safe, she tells herself.

But whenever you have a one on one with another professor, she can’t help the way her body tenses and her blood pressure spikes. She’s always sure to stop by to inform you that after your meeting is over, she’s bought you your favorite lunch in her office. Better not wait too long. It’ll get cold.

She starts making comments when your clothes when your shirt collars hit too low and your jeans had too many rips. “I should dress code you, you know. You’re lucky I like you.” Over time, you amass a decent collection of very expensive blazers from the days you come in in something she deems too revealing.

In her office, however, you’re allowed to wear as little as you wish. Which is convenient because it’s starting to get very hot in there for some reason. She can stand the heat if it means getting to watch you do your work in an undershirt.

When she asks what you’re doing for the Thanksgiving holiday and you shrug and tell her nothing, she’s all too quick to jump on the opportunity. “You can come over to my place. It’ll just be me. We can make a turkey. Come on it’ll be fun.”

Thanksgiving break bleeds into Christmas break as well. And her guest room bleeds into her bedroom. Her bed is just so much more comfortable. And it’s a California king. The two of you are practically sleeping in different time zones.

Late one night, you hear her whisper “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” you whisper back.

“Will you still come to my office? Next semester? Even though you won’t be in my class anymore?” She asks, almost anxiously.

“Of course,” you respond. “I really enjoy being around you. Even outside of you… being my professor and everything.”

She smiles, but you couldn’t see it so well in the dark. “Good,” she said. “That’s good. I like being around you as well.”

She inches towards you nervously, but you reassure her when you start to move towards her as well. She wraps her arms around you while you curl into her chest. And you fall asleep in her arms, for the first time.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Scarf To You ~ KSM

☪WORD COUNT: 1.7K

☪GENRE: established relationships, cute fluffy, seungmin and reader having a crush

☪PAIRING: Seungmin x Fem!Reader

☪Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - September 2024

☪MASTERLIST

a/n: I hope this is okay for you! I’ve tried to write it in a way with everything included 🥺

Your fingers fidget with the edge of your jacket as you sit in the nurse's station, trying to focus on anything but the nerves bubbling in your stomach. This job was supposed to be exciting — working as an on-site nurse for JYP Entertainment — but the pit in your chest told a different story. It's not the new environment that has you anxious; it's the possibility of running into him.

Kim Seungmin.

You haven’t seen him in almost a month, not since the rumours started swirling about him dating someone else, not like the two of you were a couple but the endless flirting you'd done back and forth certainly made you feel that way.

It had been a gut punch, hearing it through the grapevine, and seeing the photos circulate online of him and some unknown woman cuddled up together. Even though nothing was confirmed, it hurt more than you wanted to admit. After all, the two of you had shared something… something you thought was real, even if unspoken. Even if you weren't exactly sure what that something was, there was something there between you and you knew he felt it as well.

Now, sitting here in the same building where he spends most of his days, it feels like your heart is ready to leap out of your chest at the thought of seeing him again. Your friend told you there was little to no chance of you running into each other but it didn't exactly put your heart at ease.

"Earth to Yn," your friend, Hana, calls out, snapping you out of your spiralling thoughts. She’s perched at the edge of the desk, her eyes studying you with playful curiosity. She was the reason you took this job, she'd told you to take it since you'd been on the hunt for something similar anyway.

"You look like you’re a million miles away. What’s going on?" You offer her a tight smile, shaking your head slightly. If you told her what was going on in your mind she'd tease you for it, or worse actually find Seungmin.

She was on the side of telling him the truth about everything. Admitting how much you loved him and just letting it all out into the air but you were refusing to.

"Nothing. Just… you know, first-day jitters." You shrugged and she smirked at you, shaking her head a little. She knew exactly when you were lying.

"It's about him again, right?" She watched you, studying your reaction but you shook your head. Moving over to the drawers inside of the room and doing a stock check on everything even though you'd done that four times already.

"I don't know what you're talking about," You mumbled, looking at all of the bandages in the drawer you were searching through. Trying to appear busy so she would drop the subject and move on already.

"Sure, and I'm a princess from Eldora. Tell me what's going on." She pulled your hand away from the drawers and made you look at her.

Sighing a little you rolled your eyes, she was probably sick of hearing you talk about it but you couldn't help but let it all out.

"It's weird...What if I see him? Do I act like I don't know about the dating rumours?"

"Yes, because they're not true." She mumbled at you, sitting you down on the edge of the bed and shaking her head at you. She'd been telling you this from the start that none of the rumours had actual hard evidence behind them.

"But-"

"Yn, if Seungmin was dating someone I would fucking know about it. I have eyes and ears all over this place. that man's solely had his eyes on you for the last six months." She laughs softly and you feel your body heating up.

Seungmin and you had been talking for six months, ever since he'd seen you helping an elderly woman who'd fallen in the street and he came over to help as well. You had no idea who he was at the time and it wasn't until your second time meeting that you realised he was an idol

But by then you'd already fallen for him and not because he was some famous popstar...Which Seungmin loved. He'd adored the fact that you treated him like an actual human instead of just someone who was famous. The two of you hung out a lot.

To the point where the lines blurred between friendship and dating and it was hard to determine if you were a couple or just friends. That was until his birthday when you'd seen dating rumours of him seeing someone else, someone he hadn't told you about and you felt your whole world crumble.

You'd not seen him since, despite having made him a hand knitted scarf for the winter, wanting him to have something handmade from you and something to keep him cosy.

"Hana-"

"Don't say my name like you're giving up on everything. Seungmin would never do something to hurt you." She tells you but you shake your head. It wasn't as if you were a couple, if he was seeing other people it was okay.

"It's in the past." You whisper a little trying to get off the subject now but she scoffs,

"That scarf you made for him says otherwise. You carry it around like it's a security blanket," Your breath catches in your throat, and you freeze, hoping no one else heard that. The scarf was always in your bag, she was right it was like a security blanket. You glance around the empty station trying to make sure no one heard you both, but your heart skips a beat when you realize you're not as alone as you thought you were. Footsteps approach from behind, too quiet to be anyone else but someone familiar.

You don’t dare turn around.

“What scarf?” a voice asks. That voice. The one you've been thinking about every single day for weeks now. The same voice that made your heart skip a beat whenever you heard it and your whole body erupt in goosebumps.

Seungmin.

Hana’s eyes widen in surprise, her hand flying up to her mouth as she stifles a laugh and you already knew she had something to do with him being down here.

“Oops,” she whispers to you, before straightening up with a smile, completely unbothered by the tension hanging in the air.

"Oh, this scarf that Yn made—"

"Stop!" You interject, your voice too loud, too hurried as you put your hand over her mouth to stop her from revealing anything else to him. You feel the heat rise to your face as Seungmin’s gaze locks onto yours, amusement and curiosity flickering in his eyes. His lips quirked up into a small smile, his expression soft but focused on you.

“You made a scarf?” Your throat goes dry, and you can’t think of a single reasonable response. The scarf. You had made it for him a month ago, back when things between you two felt simpler when your heart didn’t ache every time you heard his name. You had never given it to him, too scared of what it might imply — too scared of how much you cared.

Now, he’s standing in front of you, looking like he actually wants to know the answer.

“I—” you start, but your voice falters, you don't know where to begin or what to say. Was saying something too much? Was it weird that you made him it? Your eyes dart to Hana for support, but she’s clearly enjoying this too much to help.

"It’s nothing," you manage to say, barely above a whisper.

"Just something I made f-for you a while ago." Seungmin tilts his head slightly, his brows furrowing as if he's trying to piece something together. He takes a step closer, and suddenly the room feels smaller, the space between the two of you charged with unresolved emotions.

"For me?"

"Yeah, it's just- and I- and you- and then-" You stumbled over everything and it made Seungmin smile to see you so flustered in front of him. All of the other times you'd been so calm and collected around him, it was nice to see this side for once.

Without a word, Hana slipped silently out of the room leaving the two of you together as he smiled at you,

“Well, I’d like to see it sometime,” he says softly, his voice gentle, almost teasing. You swallow hard, unable to form a response as his eyes linger on yours for a moment longer

"Seungmin-"

"Please? It's been so long since I saw you and I missed you on my birthday." He admits shyly as he sits down on the nurse's bed and watches you closely.

God, it had been so long since you'd seen him and you'd missed him too but hearing him say it to you had your heart racing and your stomach twisting.

"It's...It's nothing, it's just a scarf." You stumble a little on your words as you reach down and grab your bag, pulling out the scarf you'd spent weeks making for him. Seungmins eyes lit up as he saw it,

"You made this?"

"Yeah..yeah, it was, well it's your favourite colours." you smile warmly as he takes the fabric from your hands, your fingers brushing against one another sending a wave of electricity running through you but it was nothing compared to seeing him wear the scarf around him

"I love it," He admits as you feel your heart leap into your throat and he smiles at you, a small blush on his cheeks.

"You don't have to lie, it's nothing special and I know you're with someone else," You whispered but he took your hand in his, running his other across your face and smiling sweetly as you leaned into his touch.

"There's no one else, there's never been anyone but you, Yn." He smiles as your eyes meet his, your heart practically racing and handing itself over to him.

"The first time I saw you I count as day one of our eternity together." With that he kisses you softly, your breath catching in your throat as you kiss him back gently wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and pulling him closer to you.

"I'll pick you up after work," He smiled as he leant his forehead against yours as you giggle a little,

"Sure-"

"We're going on a date too, okay? Because I'm yours and I don't want any doubts in that pretty little head of yours." He smirks before kissing you once again.

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[yan-randomfandom]

P!Yandere!Pines Family x GN!Teenager!Reader

[PLATONIC] a continuation to this! decided to just make them all yanderes cuz y not lol errmm just subtle ykwim... i'm not proofreading all this so just have my draft

warnings: staring, violence, alcoholics, abuse, blood, implied murder. woah intense

❤️‍🔥

"Then I saved Ford by slicing its eye! You should have seen it!"

You laughed, settling down from your dramatic gestures that you've been making throughout the entire dinner. The entire Pines family watched you in awe, especially Dipper and Mabel, easily captivated by your personality and story.

"Yes, well, they certainly saved my life," Ford chuckled as he fed himself a spoonful of food.

"You have to stop lettin' kids save your life so much," Stan scoffed.

Dipper grabbed a book out of nowhere, clicking his pen in preparation—

"No writing at the dinner table! We talked about this!" Stan called out, earning a sheepish smile from Dipper who immediately drops the book on the ground.

"But what did the monster look like?" Dipper stammered, eventually turning to you with a curious look on his face. He looked eager to learn more. That's what you can tell anyway, if you remove his reddened face, which is most likely from embarrassment.

Mabel, who sat across from you, leaned towards you with the biggest smile on her lips. You grinned back to return her energy. "Bet it was super gross! Was there a lot of blood?! Blaarrrgghhh!!!"

"No gross sounds at the table, pumpkin!" Even Stanley felt like he's tired of his own voice. This is him trying his best to not let you be uncomfortable. Well, he supposed you and his brother brought up the story in the first place.

Speaking of, why were you even here? Ford came back in the mystery shack after missing for a day, only to bring a random teen with him. It's a good thing he cooked extra since he thought Soos was coming over.

But he needed answers fast.

"Ford," Stan whispered firmly, catching his brother's attention. Tilting his head, he tried to signal him to move out, but someone interrupted them before they could do anything.

"Hey! No sneaking out the dinner table!" Mabel exclaimed, pointing a fork at her grunkles.

Stanley stood up and Ford followed his actions. They were already heading out the door with Stan holding his twin's wrist. "Well, sweetheart, VERY REASONABLE EXCUSE!"

As soon as they were out of sight, you and the other kids exchanged looks.

"He did say it's reasonable."

"Yeah, I can live with that."

... You snorted. "You guys are a funny bunch. He literally said the excuse, and you let him go just like that? You must trust each other a lot."

"You have no idea, stranger, you have no idea," Mabel laughed. "Sorry, what was your name again?"

💥

Meanwhile, deep inside the mystery shack, where they were sure there'd be no eavesdropping happening...

"You let the kid stay here without telling their parents?!"

Stanley was freaking out. Yet, he really shouldn't be surprised Ford would do this. Ironically, poindexter would even criticize his behavior, his grunkle methods! How ridiculous is this whole thing, huh?!

"It's more complicated than that! Look, I know this sounds bad—"

"It does!" Stan yelped, his hands clenching. "Their parents must be so worried! And we can't just let them—"

"No, no, Stanley, walk with me here," Ford said, placing his hands on his brother's shoulders. "It's their parents that are the problem."

A few deep breaths from Stan. Alright, okay. This is making more sense now.

"We'll take them to their house first thing in the morning," Ford explained. "Let's see what we'll do from there."

🔥

"I hope my drawing isn't too bad," you chuckled, giving the journal back to Dipper. His eyes skimmed over your illustration of the monster you killed. "It doesn't match yours and Mabel, but..."

"Are you kidding?! It's perfect! Thank you!" Dipper beamed, writing more notes down the rest of the page.

From above, Mabel had her legs folded over the ceiling wood of the house. You looked up and made eye contact, as much as you can anyway. She's upside down.

"Hi! How old are you again?"

How did she even get up there, you wonder. You glanced around, smiling when you realized, and worked your way up.

They stared at you in awe when you climbed right next to Mabel's side. Now you're hanging upside down too. "Cool tricks, Mabel. Hope you don't mind me copying you?"

She doesn't respond, starstrucked. Glancing at Dipper, his jaw was also on the floor.

"Uhhh," you awkwardly smiled, "But I just turned sixteen! You guys are turning thirteen, right?"

"You're the coolest," Mabel whispered, dragging a hand across your face. Okay. That's a bit weird, but it's welcome.

"Thanks," you grinned, manually removing her hand from your face. You looked down at Dipper again. "Hey, Dipper, what time is it?"

He scrambled around and grabbed a watch from somewhere. "Uh, nine o' clock."

"Nine?!" your sudden outburst caused you to fall to the carpet, a pained groan leaving your lips. At least you managed to drop skillfully. "Oh, that hurt."

"Are you okay?!" Dipper rushed to your side, offering a comforting hand on your back.

"Yeah, I just," you paused. "It's nine already? My parents are gonna kill me, man. I gotta go home."

"What!!"

Mabel also dropped down from her outburst, but her landing isn't painful as yours, because you caught her in time. She gazed at you from your arms, stars forming in her eyes.

"Woah. You have fast reflexes!" she squealed as you gently put her down.

Dipper shook his head. "But you can't go home this late at night. Didn't you say you're from outside of Gravity Falls?"

You crossed your arms, pondering. "Yeah, but... Okay, wait, where's Ford?"

Footsteps followed your words. All of you turned to the doorway, seeing the older set of Pines twins. It's kind of amazing, really, you rarely saw twins and this family has two pairs.

"Oh, there you are!" you grinned, walking over to him. Ford blinked at you. "I'm sorry, dude, but I think I overstayed my welcome. I'll go ahead and—"

"Eh, nah," Stanley chimed in, earning your attention, "It's too dark for ya to go out. Let's take you home tomorrow, yeah?"

"But-"

"No butts, they're for sitting," he continued, gently pushing you down on his recliner. You sat down, albeit confused. "Think of it as a sleepover. That's fun, right kids?"

Mabel skipped to your view, an eager grin on her face. "Yeah! We can paint your nails and everything!"

"While I'll show you more of the journals," Dipper beamed, showing one of them to you.

Their ideas were nice, it truly was, but the circumstances are concerning. You couldn't help the frown forming on your lips. They all noticed.

Ford stepped in between them, kneeling and offering you a smile. "Don't worry, kiddo. We'll take good care of you 'til morning. I'm sure your parents will understand."

"I guess I can't really do anything about it," you muttered, eventually accepting the situation. You stood up with a grin. "Okay! Who wants to be unaware of me stealing cool stuff here?!"

"I do!" Mabel screamed, only to pause. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah," Stan squinted, "What?"

You hummed, suddenly behind him, and stared at his wallet. Ford shook his head at you. "You have a very alarming number of IDs. Is this normal? Then again, you're old."

A laugh left Stan as he took his wallet from you. "Oh, I could use that type of skill. Didn't even hear or feel you take it!"

"I can teach you," you smiled.

"Please don't," Dipper groaned.

🌬️

"This journal is amazing! And Ford wrote this? Seriously, no wonder why he was so smart!"

You flipped the book page by page, your jaw dropped the whole time. Sure, a while ago, you saw one page, but only because Dipper told you to draw on it. You didn't expect a whole research surrounding Gravity Falls!

"Interesting enough for you to visit Gravity Falls more often?" Dipper chuckled as he watched you.

"Woah," you smiled, "You like my company that much, Dipper? Don't you have any friends here— oh shoot, wait, I didn't mean—"

A ghost of a frown spread through his face. Why did you have to ask that?! You were just projecting if you had to be honest, but still!!!

"Sorry, that was insensitive," you blurted, closing the book and focusing all your attention on him. "I only said that because I feel that way. I know, that's pretty lame."

He looked surprised. "Really? But you're so cool?"

"Some people think I'm weird is all. But thanks for finding me cool, Dip," you laughed, glancing at Mabel who was snoring. "I find you and your sister cool too. A lot, actually. So it's nice to know you both like me."

Dipper sniffed. "Man. Ditto."

You grabbed a blanket and placed it over Mabel's body, making sure she's covered head to toe. She snuggled up to it unconsciously.

"Welp, bed time," you murmured, reaching for another one. You stretched the blanket, letting Dipper be able to invite himself in. "Come on."

He happily accepted, nestling his head next to your shoulder. Mabel followed him, her head tilting to your chest.

You slept, content.

🌪️

You woke up, disturbed.

The first thing you saw after sleeping is Dipper and Mabel staring at you in silence. As soon as you noticed them, they scrambled away from you and tried to act natural.

Yet, you couldn't forget the small glimpse of their faces. Wide-eyed, a bit of judgment, but most of all, solemn.

Before you could question them, Dipper yelled, "Grunkles! They're awake!"

You winced from the volume of his voice, having just woken up. He immediately apologized to you, but it's all good.

"Visit us again soon! Byeee!"

The next thing you know, you're in the backseat of a car with Stanley next to you. He was pouting, arms crossed.

"This is literally my car. I can't believe it! You won't even let me drive my own car?" he sneered at Ford who sat on the driver's seat.

Ford rolled his eyes. "I can't have you get in trouble by driving again. Think of the kid."

While driving to your address is certainly much faster than walking, it still took a while. You managed to fall asleep, tilting your head on Stan's shoulder. It seemed that you're not alone in being unconscious, because he snored loudly.

Glancing at the mirror, Ford simply exhaled.

You're here.

He parked in front of your house.

Ford nudged Stan awake, who poked you awake next.

You stood up drowsily, holding Stan's hand while walking up to your house. Ford took the lead and knocked on your front door.

To both grunkles' disappointment, things get messy.

Both your parents, drunk, loudly told them off and took you away roughly from Stan. Tears leaked out of your eyes, saying countless apologies to the Pines twins and your parents.

Without much of a fight, Ford forcibly grabbed you back, carrying your body with one arm. He looked at Stan who placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Psst, I'll handle this," Stanley murmured in the midst of your father yapping nonsense. Maybe the professional con-man can knock some sense into your deadbeat parents.

Ford took you back to the car. You sobbed relentlessly, whispering the most saddening things he wished to unhear. He hugged you tightly, muttering sweet nothings until you fell asleep.

After a long while, Stan finally came back.

His eyes were wide. He was shaking.

"I didn't mean to. They started it—I had no choice!"

Gazing down, Ford realized Stan's hands were covered in blood. He swallowed the thickness in his throat.

"...I'll help you clean it up."

[redrose10]

#5 from the picture game

Warnings: Swearing, mention of suggestive stuff, maybe cheating

Thanks for the request!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“I hate him! I hate him! I hate him.”, you shrieked throughout your small apartment after throwing your bag down on the floor. Your roommate, Sarah, concerned with all the commotion came walking out to see what was going on with you.

“Bad day?”, she questioned.

“Min Fucking Yoongi.”, you spat.

She sighed, “What did he do now?”

“Alright class, you’re going to work in small groups of two or three for this project. Pair up on your own and I’ll send around the sign up sheet for you to write down your names. Remember this project will count for 80% of your grade so it’s kind of a big deal and shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

You scanned around the room making eye contact with Namjoon. He nodded before getting up and making his way over to you. You felt relief that you would be working with not only one of the smartest guys in the school but also someone who was respectful and reliable. For some reason this school seems to have attracted every arrogant fuckboy within a 500 mile radius and you hated it.

Namjoon took a seat next to you but before he could speak someone else cleared their throat.

The leader of said fuckboys was standing right in front of you like you had summoned him by thinking too much about him. You bit your lip so hard you tasted blood.

“Hey Yoongi! Want to join our group?”, Namjoon happily asked oblivious to the tension in the air.

“He can’t. He’s already working with Tia.”, you gritted through your teeth. You knew she was a regular of Yoongi’s. Yoongi looked over at the woman who was trying to look seductive but looked more like she was in pain than anything.

“Nah we’re kind of going through a thing right now.”

Namjoon chuckled, “I get it man. You can work with Y/N and I. It’s not problem.”

Yoongi took a seat and pretended to listen to Namjoon as he came up with a game plan while you sat there and stewed in your anger. You knew Yoongi wasn’t going to lift a finger while you and Namjoon did everything yet he’d still be given a good grade.

Before you knew it class was over and Namjoon said his goodbyes before quickly running off to his next one.

You were angrily packing up your bag when you heard Yoongi speak.

“Y/N are you not going to speak to me this entire project? We have to work together.”, he asked.

You scoffed, “No we don’t. You and I both know you’re going to flake and it’ll be all on Namjoon and I to do all the work so why don’t you just do us a favor and get lost already.”

Yoongi stood up and leaned slightly over your desk, “Maybe you should get laid for once. You need to get some of that bitchiness fucked out of you.”

And with that he was gone and out the door leaving you red faced and so angry you couldn’t think straight for the rest of the day even once you finally walked through your front door.

Sarah chuckled only infuriating you more. “Y/N I get it. Yeah that was a really shitty thing to say but you do always seem to be the one to start things with him. Maybe him and Tia really are going through something and you two were the only option to work with. I just don’t know why you have this extreme hatred for the guy.”, she said after seeing your upset face.

You rolled your eyes before heading to your room and flopping down on your bed.

Was Sarah right? Are you the instigator? And if you are then you’re sure that he deserved it 99% of the time anyways.

Ever since the first day you met him he has been a thorn in your side.

You met Yoongi in Kindergarten. He sat behind you and would constantly pull on your ponytail and when you turned around he’d just sit there with a big smile. You complained to your parents who told you he probably just had a crush on you but that you should ask him to stop if you didn’t want him to do that any more.

Then in the fifth grade he was playing basketball at recess. He tried passing the ball to someone else but instead it came flying at your face breaking your nose. He was at your side in an instant using his jacket to stop the bleeding. He apologized profusely saying it was an accident but you’re sure he did it on purpose.

Your freshman year of high school he overheard that you had a huge crush on a boy named Jin. He was a year older than you and so handsome and funny. You thought maybe he liked you too until he started distancing himself. You found out a couple months later that Yoongi had told him that you had some incurable contagious skin condition.

Somehow though over the next couple years you had grown fond of Yoongi, even developing feelings for him. He had matured and was pleasant to be around. You were ecstatic when he asked you to be his date to the senior prom. The night had been going well and you really thought you were going to share your first kiss with him. The dj announced it was time for the last dance when you realized Yoongi was taking a really long time in the bathroom. Walking the halls looking for him you found him pushed up against the lockers with Mia, the prom queen, sticking her tongue practically down his throat. You ran out of the dance that night ignoring the shouts of your name coming from Yoongi who was chasing after you.

While walking home with a broken heart you made yourself a promise that you would never let Min Yoongi hurt you ever again. So much so that you ignored any contact he tried to make with you even finally going to his parents when he didn’t get the hint.

In college you tried your best to avoid him. The first year was easy. You had different majors and different friend groups. Then Sarah started dating one of his best friends Hoseok leading to there being lots of time spent together. You watched as he often left the hangouts with some random woman he met. You’d always roll your eyes realizing he never changed. He always had something to say to you or about you too. His little comments here and there to purposely get under your skin only added to your irritation.

Maybe that’s why your first emotion around him now is always anger.

Thankfully your emotional day helped you swiftly fall into dreamland and stop thinking about him.

“Y/N, let’s go!!”,Sarah shouted from behind your door.

“Be right there.”

You took one final look at your outfit. Your dress was a little tighter than normal but you were hoping to get the attention of this guy you met on campus, Taehyung. You weren’t really into going to parties but you were in a pretty good mood since Yoongi had skipped class all week as expected of him and once Taehyung asked you if you were going to be at this party you were quick to agree.

The smell of alcohol and sweat and just dirty funk quickly hit your senses. You’d think they could’ve sprung for a couple $1 air fresheners but what could you expect from a bunch of college guys.

Once further into the home you were able to easily spot Taehyung. He walked over with two bottles of beer. One was still sealed which he cracked open for you. You appreciated his thoughtfulness.

You were really starting to like Tae, as he told you to call him. He was funny, gentle, dangerously handsome. You could see yourself having a future with him. He went off to get you another beer when you felt someone’s glare on you.

Yoongi was also at the party. You should’ve known. It was a perfect spot for him to prey on some woman who was too buzzed to care. He was leaning up against the wall, head slightly cocked while looking at you. He was wearing a black hoodie that fit him perfectly, rings adorned his long fingers, that stupid headband he’d been into wearing recently. You hated him but you hated it more that he still had an effect on you because you couldn’t stop thinking about how good he looked.

He smirked when he noticed you staring at him. Your body only heated up more when you noticed him looking you up and down.

“Y/N…I didn’t think parties were your thing.”, he said after walking over.

“Well I’m here with someone else. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Uh yeah I saw that you were here with Taehyung. You should really think twice about him.”

You rolled your eyes, “Then why don’t you do something to ruin it for me Yoongi? That seems to be what you’re best at.”

Thanks to the darkness of the party you didn’t see his confidence falter a little at your words.

“Look Y/N I don’t give a fuck what you do. I’m just saying maybe don’t get too hung up on him.”

He left and walked past you into the kitchen leaving you feeling uneasy but Tae showed up just in time with another beer to take your mind off of him.

Two hours later, eight beers, and countless songs danced to you were needing some air. It had been a long time since you were this buzzed. Sarah was long gone with her date so it looked like you were going to get your wish of going home with Taehyung.

He walked you outside to sit on a bench underneath a big oak tree on the property.

“You alright?”, he chuckled after you let out a long sigh.

“Yeah just tired.”

Taehyung remained silent as you took in the night sky. For some reason that you hated, Yoongi was heavily on your mind. You figured that by now he was probably on his second hookup of the night which only hurt you more making your stomach just a little more nauseous.

“Hey uh Y/N can I ask you something?”, Taehyung spoke from next to you.

Your body woke up with excitement.

“Of course.”, you nodded.

“Your friend Sarah…Is she…Is she seeing anyone?”

You stared at him in disbelief. He wasn’t interested in you at all. The whole reason he asked you to the party was to get the details on your friend.

Feeling like you were going to cry or throw up, maybe both you stood up to begin walking home.

“Let me get you home safe.”, Taehyung said reaching for your hand.

You tried to pull away but a third hand grabbed yours first instead.

“No thanks. I’ve got her.”, a familiar voice broke the silence.

Yoongi was already leading you to his car before you could even protest.

He helped you into your apartment and to your bed. He’d been there several times when Hoseok and Sarah were dating so he knew his way around.

You were broken hearted once again and nauseous and exhausted and just didn’t have the strength to fight him any more.

You told yourself you were definitely never drinking again especially after the last thing you remembered being you asking Yoongi to stay and lay with you for a while.

And thankfully you remembered asking him that because if you hadn’t you probably would’ve woken up half the city with your screaming when you woke up and saw him peacefully sleeping next to you. You tried your best to get out of bed without him noticing but it didn’t go as planned.

When he woke up he looked even more shocked than you did. He jumped out of bed only to land awkwardly on some books which caused him to slip and end up on the floor with a loud thud. You stifled a giggle as he hastily got himself up again.

“Fuck Y/N I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Nothing happened. I swear I didn’t try to pull anything funny. You were crying and you asked me to stay and I felt bad. I was only gonna stay until you fell asleep but I must’ve dozed off myself. It’s these classes are killing me and I’m working two jobs and I’m just exhausted.”

“Yoongi it’s okay. I remember asking you to stay. It was an accident.”, you said trying to calm him down.

He looked at you wearily, “Are you feeling okay? The Y/N that I know would’ve already threaten to chop my balls off and shove them down my throat.”

You chuckled, “Yeah well this Y/N, is pretty hungover so I’m gonna let it go this time.”

He relaxed a little and sat back down on your end which did annoy you a little but you let it slide because the prior nights events were slowly coming back to you and you had some questions.

“Hey Yoongi, did you know that Taehyung only asked me to the party so he could ask about Sarah?”

He slid his tongue over his teeth. A habit of his he did when he was nervous. He nodded, “Uh yeah. He mentioned something about it to Jimin and then it got back to me.”

“So is that why you tried to get me to stop talking to him?”

He nodded.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

You scoffed? “Well you kind of have a history of hurting me more than helping me so I’m just wondering why all of a sudden you cared enough to try and stop me from getting hurt?”

Yoongi turned to stare at you. His face flushing, either from anger or embarrassment, you weren’t really sure.

He sat fidgeting with his rings for a moment before looking at you, “Y/N…that night…that night at the prom. I didn’t kiss that girl.”, he paused, “I had written you a song. It was stupid and cheesy actually…”, he chuckled, “I forgot it in my locker so I told you that I had to go to the bathroom so I could go get it. Mia came up to me. She knew I liked you and she always hated it. She said it was the last dance and you were looking for me. I tried to push past her but as soon as I did she pushed me against the locker and kissed me. She knew you were standing there. She wanted you to see. I chased after you but you wouldn’t stop. I stopped shouting your name but I followed you home to make sure you got there safely.”, he shook his head, “You never answered any of my texts or calls. I even did dumb shit like leaving notes in your locker. Then my parents told me that I needed to back off before I got in trouble so I let you go. I guess I was childish and built some resent towards you. I’ve liked you ever since kindergarten when I used to pull on your ponytail with that ridiculous Minnie Mouse clip you always used to wear. And you just completely cut me off without letting me explain. I was hurt and started acting out towards you.”, he sighed, “I’m sorry Y/N. For all the messed up stuff I’ve said to you. I didn’t mean any of it. I guess I…I guess I just wanted to push you away from me. The further you were the less I remembered about how I broke your heart and how I never even got the chance.”

You stared at him in disbelief.

“So all this time you liked me?”

He nodded.

“Is that why you told Jin I had a contagious disease? Because you knew we liked each other?”

He chuckled at that, “Yeah I did. I was a little bit jealous and come on Y/N, you knew you could do better than him. He was more beauty than brains. I mean I told him you had stage 4 Cootie-Cockilus and he believed me…”

Laughter erupted in the room.

“Okay maybe that one helped me more than I thought.”, you laughed.

The room fell back into an awkward yet comfortable silence.

“Y/N, can we start over…please.”, Yoongi suddenly asked.

Bitingng your lip in thought you finally nodded in agreement, “Yeah I’d like that.”

“Alright well let’s get some breakfast then. I know a great cafe just outside of campus.”, he said motioning for you to follow him.

You grabbed your bag and walked in front of him.

Just before your hand reached the door handle you felt a tiny little tug on the end of your ponytail.

Your heart skipped a beat making you stop.

The biggest gummy smile greeted you when you turned around to playfully eye culprit.

[balkanradfem]

Okay so I know I just hit you all with the controversial chestnut poll, but I have some new development in life that I want to complain about, and in order for me to complain about it, I need to give you the context.

I don't particularly want to give you the context. You're going to diagnose me with female socialization, and some of you will feel the urge to click the anonymous ask button and tell me off. Today I need you to fight that urge! I am feeling insecure, I am feeling lost, I'm not certain in my choices, I've acted without thinking, and got myself into a situation I can't control. So please don't be mean to me. I deserve to complain on the internet and not be called out, alright?

So this is the story of how I accidentally became a live-in caretaker for an injured, elderly woman. It's temporary! She'll get better, hopefully.

I worked for her occasionally, and she's always been kind to me. She would give me a little jar of jam sometimes, and I love little jars of jam, it's a way to win my heart. A few days ago, she called me in a panic, telling me she fell, and she needs my help. I came over, and found out she broke her arm in two places, and one of her rib is broken. She fell unconscious, after being dizzy all day, and fell on a big metal lantern, breaking it. She was now in so much pain she couldn't get up by herself, dress herself, or do any kind of household tasks. She went to the ER, got her arm wrapped up, and was trying to get a pain injection. I helped her get trough the day, and promised to come early next morning, to help her up from the bed.

Next day I found her in tears in her bed, unable to get up, desperate to go to the bathroom. It became clear she needed 24/7 assistance, and she asked me if I would move in until she got better. I said yes without thinking, because I was at this point, severely concerned, and wanted to do anything to help her out.

So this is all not so bad, right, I'm being normal, it's normal to offer help to an injured elderly woman who is nice, but there's a catch. She doesn't live alone. She lives with her older husband. Who is also disabled and can't help her at all. So in order to help her out.. I had to move into a place where a male lives. That is the worst part of this.

I'm still in the first few days of living like this, and my own life had to fall to the background. I can't go foraging for chestnuts every day, I can't go to my garden as much, I'm still going to work, just from her place. I'm overwhelmed and struggling to get used to the new situation. I'm not used to being around people at all, and now I'm forced to socialize almost all day. Caring for someone comes fairly natural! I'm already so in sync with her, she can just look in the certain direction and I know what she wants me to do. I've figured out where everything is in her kitchen, closet, and basement. She's pleased that I know how to do basic household tasks, and am willing to do it in her way. And she's nice, she's telling me things like 'thank you' and 'what would I do without you', which feels good. But I am very exhausted and sleep deprived, she wakes me up at 1am, and then 5am again, and I'm unable to fall back asleep in a room I lack familiarity with. I miss my room.

She and her husband said they were going to pay me, and in my natural ways, I said something like 'no you don't need to' which I feel like everyone will get mad at me for, but they did insist they would pay me anyway. I as usual lack the sense to care about money – someone's arm is broken, that's way more serious issue to me!

Alright so now to the part of the post I wanted to write, a fun poll where you guess, what has her awful husband done by this point :) go ahead and guess!

You have one day to guess! Which one of these scenarios happened in the first few days of his wife breaking three bones in her body. I'll tell you the correct option tomorrow!

[romanarose]

Wreckage

Joel Miller

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Summary: Joel and Tommy go back to Joel's home the morning after outbreak day and comb through the wreckage of their life.

Warnings: I'll be clear, Joel attempts suicide. Major, major, major trigger warning. Joel's extreme grief, guilt as a parent, just sadness. Endless slightly hopeful, a hint that he will find healing. But it's mostly wump. PLEASE head the warning, i cried writing this.

Based on Wreckage by Pearl Jam. I heard it and immidiatly thought of Joel and Tommy, pleeeeeease listen.

Visited by thought, another darkened day

How you're like the sun, hiding somewhere beyond the rain

I'm needing for the light, stormy is the grey

Rivers overflowing, drowning all our yesterdays

It was over. His life was over. Sarah, his baby daughter, his sweet teenager who was his reason for getting to the end of every hard day, his smart, talented, matured-to-early-because-he-couldn’t-give-her-what-she-needed daughter died in his arms hours ago. Minutes later, him and Tommy were arrested, torn away from where he held her, Sarah’s young body limp in his arms. Joel screamed as the soldiers tried to take him, wanting him to walk away from her when he wanted to lay down and waste away in the field with him. Tommy tried to calm him down but eventually the soldiers took them both away. They were released not too long later, sent back to their little town to gather up their things and move into some quarantine area. Wanting to avoid it, they went to Tommy’s first, grabbing his identification and what he could fit into a bag. Tommy lived in a studio, a messy bachelor pad… Joel had to look through a whole life lived in that house. They stood at the front door, bodies of their neighbors having been cleaned up already. Tommy put his hand on Joel’s back. 

“Are you ready, brother?”

Joel shrugged Tommy off. “No.” He opened the door.

Visited by thoughts on another darkened week

How even every winner hits a losing streak

The mistakes we all make and perfectly repeat

Chains are made by DNA refusing

Refusing to release

Everything was her.

Her soccer shoes on the floor he yelled at her to pick up that day.

The countertop she sat on as a toddler as he cooked breakfast for her on a Sunday that Tommy inevitably would come over and eat. Joel always made extra just incase.

The staircase they had their first major fight when she was 11. She came home late and after years of fairly lax parenting for a mature little girl, he laid down the law. She screamed that he was never around anyway, so why did it matter? Joel wanted to tell her it mattered because he was worried, that he spent the last hour calling every parent he knew, Tommy driving around town after dark because they didn’t know where she was. Instead, he got defensive and raised his voice.

The couch. Every late night movie they fell asleep watching, every time he woke up and she was dozed off on his chest or the arm of the chair. Every night he scooped her up and carried her to bed. Nights she faked being asleep so he’d do it. Feeling her growing up in her arms and feeling his age in his knees but never letting that stop him from picking her carrying her up the stairs, even in her teens. He would have done it last night. Instead he carried her past burning buildings and people killing each other as he and Tommy tried in vain to save her.

Combing through the wreckage, pouring through the sand

Surrounded by the remnants, what we could and couldn't have

Raking through the ashes, falling through my hands

Charcoal on the faces in the burned up photographs

“Whaddya need?” Tommy asked, the question two fold. They were being moved, shuffled to some containment area to be assessed for illness and then… who knows. Joel and Tommy would need clothes for a few days, they were told. But Tommy was also asking Joel, ‘How can I help you?’ But he couldn’t. Not really.

“Some bags in the cupboard.” He answered, looking at Sarah’s 100% paper he hung up on the fridge. Tommy grabbed them, waiting on Joel. They didn't have luggage, he didn’t travel enough for it. Well, Sarah had one, but he didn’t feel like taking a Spongebob suitcase. He had a backpack upstairs where he’d put his clothes in. “Food. Get canned shit.” They had enough of it. Joel was always feeding Sarah chef boyardee and campbells soups, like the lazy parent he was. Why didn’t he take the time to cook her real food? He was always so tired… too tired to take care of his only kid? She was in soccer, she was growing, she was in puberty, why couldn’t he be what she needed? WHy did he have to fail her, again and again and again and…

“M’ going upstairs…” 

Tommy said something, but Joel’s ears were ringing and he couldn’t hear. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t face his daughter's bedroom… Joel closed his eyes as he walked past. Backpack was in his closet, he would just grab it, shove some basics in there, and get the hell out. When Joel opened his closet door, his backpack was there… And so was the gun he had up top for emergencies.

Oh, visited by thought and this I got to say

If you're feeling the leaving, I can't make you stay

I've only ever wanted for it not to be this way

But you're now like the water

And the water will find its way

He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. Joel was baptist, he was raised think suicide meant he was going to hell, but what was this world without Sarah? For 13 years, Joel poured everything he had into raising her and it wasn’t enough. He was never home, she said as much in the card she gave him for his birthday. He didn’t feed her right, he didn’t spend enough time with her, every single one of her accomplishments from soccer to her grades was all her. 

The gun was enticing,  up there for him, hidden in a lock box after Sarah got sent home with a pamphlet on gun safety after Columbine. Maybe he should just take it, just incase there was trouble… No, that was stupid. If the government was rounding up civilians, they weren’t going to let him walk in with a gun, everything would be searched. And one guy with a gun wasn’t going to be a match for 100 guys with guns. Joel would probably end up getting Tommy shot too, failing everyone he loved. 

Still, Joel got the keys and opened the lock box.

Combing through the wreckage

Holding out, holding on

Combing through the wreckage

Combing through the wreckage

“Joel, you wanna take a picture or something?” Tommy calls upstairs, startling Joel as he looked at the gun. He barked a no. Joel didn’t need a reminder every day of how he failed Sarah, how his one fucking job was to keep her alive and he couldn’t do that. He was a failure, and without Sarah there was no point.

There was no point.

Oh, visited by thoughts and not just in the night

That I no longer give a fuck who is wrong and who's right

This game of winner takes all and all means nothing left

Spoils go the victor and the other left for dead

Joel took the gun to Sarah’s room. If his home hurt, the pain he felt in here was unbearable. Purple was everywhere, her favorite color. Her bed was unmade, because it never was. He traced fingers over the pictures on her walls, her with her friend, with im, with Tommy. He looked around the room. She was everywhere and nowhere. Tears burned in his eyes, and he didn’t hesitate to let them fall again. Half done homework. When would this have been due? He didn’t know because he didn’t ask. A hair bonnet on the bed stand with some vampire book. The cover looked suggestive, was she old enough to be reading it? Joel knew so little, he was realizing. Did he know too little? It didn’t matter now. All those failures collided into that moment one last night, the moment he lived over and over again. The moment that would be his last thought.  

Combing through the wreckage

Holding out, holding on

Combing through the wreckage

He was taught to believe suicide meant going to hell, but Joel couldn’t fathom that. If there was a God out there, and Joel believed there was, Joel would pay his dues in purgatory and then go on to heaven. If there wasn’t a God, he would just be at peace. 

Either was better than this world without Sarah

Combing through the wreckage

Joel laid down on her bed, smelling her hair products on the silk pillow. 

He raised the gun to his head.

“I’m coming, baby girl.”

Holding out, holding on

Holding out

Holding in

Holding on

Combing through the wreckage

“Joel?”

He flinched. It was a flash of a thought at he pulled the trigger. Tommy. 

The gun went off, grazing his head.

Holding on (combing through the wreckage)

Holding on, oh (combing through the wreckage)

Holding on (combing through the wreckage)

It was unbearable.

When the gun went up, Tommy screamed Joel’s name, running upstairs to find his big brother bleeding out on his niece's bed, and there must have been a moment when Tommy thought Joel was dead.

The pain in his head wasn’t what hurt so bad, it was the pain of Tommy seeing him like this, of being so vulnerable, of having to have the person he should be protecting worrying about him. It was the pain of Sarah’s death. It was the pain of every failure that mounted in his house.

Joel began to scream. He wasn’t sure when it started or when it stopped, but as Tommy sat on the bed and pulled Joel into his arms he screamed.

Falling through the wreckage

“I need you, Joel!” Tommy shouted, frantic as he held gauze to Joel’s head. “You don’t get to leave me! You don’t get to do this!” Tommy was crying too.

But he was right.

Crawling through the wreckage

He had to take care of Tommy. Tommy had to live. Joel had always watched out for his brother, raised him, protected him, made sure he was fed when their dad was passed out drunk and their mom was out late with ‘friends’. Joel had to keep him alive. He failed Sarah, he couldn’t fail Tommy too. 

Joel would lock everything away. He’d push away it all, he’d shove down every feeling about Sarah. He didn’t want a picture, wasn’t going to think of her every day when he had to focus on Tommy.

He looked down at his wrist. When he went to go unlatch it, leave it in the house… but he couldn’t. In that moment, removing the watch would be like removing her again. He decided to keep it. A watch was useful, right?

One reminder. A reminder of what he lost so he remembered to do better for Tommy.

Everywhere, and nowhere at all.

Combing through the wreckage

As they stepped out of the house, the cul de sac seemed far too bright and sunny for the occasion. Too nice. Too happy. But it didn’t matter, Joel reminded himself. He looked at his brother, the younger man’s face seeming aged 10 years in one night. Joel found a new sense of hope.

He’d live for Tommy, he’d keep his family alive. Save who he can.

It didn’t matter what Joel had to do to do it.

*************

Thank you so, so, so much for reading and giving this a chance even though it's not a x reader. I appriciate each and every bit of love you all give.

2 more Joel WIPS to clear out before i excit this fandom

I hope yall give the song a listen, i cried listening to it while writing.

tagging those who might like but dont feel presured!!! i know it cn be triggering

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @miraclesabound @jennaispunk

[coltermorning]

Of Love and Loss Ch. 20 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You and Arthur finally find solace in a town and in each other, breaking down every last wall that remains.

Author’s Notes: Sexual content in this chapter. Chapter twenty of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

~

Of Love and Loss

Twenty: The Power of a Name

Word count: 6609

She really thought I would leave her here. What nonsense, especially after what happened in the last town and how much it haunts her. I suppose I’ll be seeing this journey through to the end. Either that, or long enough for her to tell me to get lost. Surprisingly, that ain’t happened quite yet, though I ain’t holding out hope that it won’t after how much of a fool I been towards her. We shall see, I guess.

~

It had taken ten more days to get back to civilization. The town of Ogallala was small but growing fast due to the rail built through it. Arthur knew it made you nervous to be around this many people again, but the law in this town was sparse, and the two of you kept your heads down well enough and found a hotel tucked away to stay hidden in in the meantime. If anyone came through looking for you, they’d have to go door to door to find you, and many of the townsfolk weren’t local besides. That meant no real reason to turn in two people folk hadn’t really noticed in the first place. That left Arthur calm enough not to worry over your safety like he had been the past week and a half. And that left him more relaxed than he had been in a long time.

It turned out you were nervous about more than just the law and the local population—he’d had to wriggle it out of you, but Arthur finally figured out you thought the local train station meant his departure. Your final destination wasn’t far, and you had thought he was impatient enough to get back to his gang that he would take the first train to Denver and leave you here to fend for yourself. He couldn’t begin to explain how wrong you were and had instead led you to the hotel without a word, a little miffed you thought he cared that little about you. Then again, he hadn’t outright expressed much reason for you to think otherwise, and he was starting to think it was time to. You’d immediately collapsed onto the bed upon arrival, worn from all the hard travel, so he didn’t have a chance to speak his mind anyway. Later, he told himself. Though he was in denial about the fact that very soon, there wouldn’t be a later.

Arthur sat on the floor beside the bed and chewed on a bit of cooked deer meat Beth had insisted the two of you take, looking over his journal to pass the time. Really, he wondered what to say to you. He wasn’t the best with words, especially when it came to matters of the heart. He thought of writing it down but had come up with his pitiful new journal entry instead, cowardly as ever. Then, annoyed, he turned back a page, knowing exactly what he would find. He didn’t know why it surprised him. But there you were, laid out on that bed in that barn, half-naked save for his coat. And underneath, your name. Your real name, written out after he’d finished every last gentle curve and arc of your body. He never thought knowing a name would be such an honor, but he realized that it had been your way of expressing to him what he had yet to express to you—how much you cared for him. It was obvious he felt the same, obvious in the few stolen kisses he’d gotten since what had happened in that worn down barn. But maybe the pair of you hadn’t come together like that since because he was the one holding back, not you. And that left him shameful.

Arthur looked over at you on the bed, your back steadily rising and falling in sleep. You were faced away, so he couldn’t see much of you apart from your hand draped over the bedside. Even that small glimpse of you had him thinking of how little time there was left between you and how precious this closeness was. It was time for him to admit things he never normally would or risk letting them fester within him, nothing more than regret that would chafe like hell the farther away he got from you.

Arthur stowed the deer meat and went back to studying the drawing of you. One thing he liked most about it was the look on your face—the smile. Upon first meeting you, he never would have thought someone so heartbroken could eventually be so willful again. That smile was catlike, just for him. It turned him on a little. And the rest of the drawing didn’t make matters better, nor did the thought of what the two of you had done together to cause that smile.

Arthur thought of other ways you had surprised him, as you continued to do every day. How good of a shot you were, for one. Hell, just the thought of you being so good with a gun you’d snapped that noose clean in half had him hard. Then his mind drifted to your hands wrapped around a gun, and just like that, he was lost.

Arthur’s eyes followed the curve of your breast in his coat as he thought of how argumentative you were, the way you snapped at him without fear time and again. He was used to being intimidating enough to make everyone else hold their tongue, but not you. You let him have it.

And your mouth. The way you kissed him despite not quite knowing how—it was unfair to be so good at it. Unfair to be so innocent yet so arousing. Timid yet wild, broken yet strong. All of it.

Arthur let out an annoyed breath at how aroused he had become, setting his journal aside and turning to look at you. He wouldn’t leave you again, but he was suddenly desperate to take himself in hand, something he would rather not do in front of you, asleep or not. But, he considered, you had just fallen asleep. It could be hours. You weren’t a very heavy sleeper, but he could be quiet. He could…shit. He shouldn’t be considering this. But he thought of you waking up and catching him in the act, and that made things immeasurably worse. How would you respond? That put a smile on his face. You’d never seen him naked, nor any man if he had to guess. He loved seeing that shy, surprised look on your face his overly confident words brought, and he had no doubt the sight of him pleasuring himself would make you go so red it would leave you speechless for once. Or maybe it wouldn’t, and maybe you would be curious enough to crawl off that bed and come over here, crawl in his lap and-

“Christ,” Arthur whispered, in the same sorry state he had been in that bath, thinking then of what he would do with you on the first bed you’d shared. Only now, he had no reason to feel guilty over wanting you like that. He had half a mind you wanted the same from him. Or he hoped you did, at least. If how you had responded to his touch the last time was any indication, you certainly did.

And then Arthur was thinking of what he knew he shouldn’t be, because it would lead to his hand drifting downward when he really shouldn’t allow for such things. He thought of his fingers between your legs, all those perfect sounds you made. He thought of your whispered fervor, the words don’t stop cutting through him worse than any bullet. He wanted that again. By God, he was desperate enough to wake you for it. But he wouldn’t. He would let you rest and have what little peace he could offer. Because what he was considering wasn’t quite peace so much as it was demanding, outright gratification. A desperation he could no longer tame and one he hoped to drag from you right alongside him. But again, as much as it killed him, he would wait for your desire to match his. And as he pulled another cigarette out of his ever-dwindling stash to distract him in the meantime, he knew what he felt for you must be real—nothing had ever nagged him so bad as to make him more honorable. And there was something to be said for that.

~

Two months and fifteen days. You woke up to the ceiling of yet another rented room, plagued by the thought of your parents’ deathdate. Your mother had been keeping up with the days, if only for some way to pass the time, and here you were doing the same two and a half months later, nearly to the day. It had been a Wednesday. The ninth of September. And now it was nearing the end of November, and all you could hold onto was how much you regretted not marking their graves with their birthdates and deathdates. With crosses bearing names you were proud to display but couldn’t bear to part with at the time, just like your own.

You looked to the windows lining the wall, noting the gray sky beyond. It was snowing again. It had been for nearly the entirety of the past week, though part of you wished it would give. There were many things you wished would give, namely the ache in your chest at the constant absence of your parents’ guidance. As far as you had come without it, you knew you could survive on your own, but that guidance was a crutch you would have loved to feel one last time. Comforting in its surrender.

Your eyes flicked to the man propped up against the wall, one leg bent at the knee and hat slung low over his eyes. He was either asleep or resting, and you didn’t want to disturb him either way. He didn’t allow himself to do so very often after the two of you had gotten so tangled with the law, but he deserved this. He was toughened, hardened by a life you would never have come out of alive. It made him strong in a way you wanted to grant respite to. Strong in a way you knew he never would himself. Stubborn, more like, but you couldn’t deny you recognized that only because you were the same.

Turning on the bed, a loud creak resulted that had Arthur raising his hat brim to look at you. Part of you wanted to pretend to be dozing anyway like you used to do as a child, but you met his eye instead. Held that stare until it turned contemplative. Until you were both looking beyond the eyes into the soul beneath.

“Didn’t want to sleep up here?” you said softly.

Arthur looked to the window, like of all things, that was what finally made him meek.

“You needed some sleep. And didn’t leave me much room besides.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. When he turned back to you, all you could say was, “It’s snowing again.”

“Yeah,” he said in a manner that made you recall the secret he had bestowed to you—something no one else knew about him. Your very own piece of him.

“And you don’t like the cold, do you?” you teased.

He scoffed. “No.”

Stubborn and gruff. You were grinning as you said, “That’s too bad. Guess I don’t have to face my shortcomings quite like you do.”

“Meanin’?” he said, annoyance in his voice though you knew he was curious enough not to drop it.

“The postman,” you admitted. Then he was letting out a laugh.

“I guess not.” He shook his head and looked back to the gray light of the nearest window. And something about doing what you had just done to ground yourself made you ache for him.

“Come up here.”

The words were out of your mouth in a second. There wasn’t an ounce of regret in you, not even when he looked to you with questioning eyes.

You scooted back and patted the bed in front of you. He didn’t make a fuss about it—just rose and walked over, his spurs jingling with each step. He swiped his hat from his head and sat, holding your eye as he folded his lumbering frame down on the bed beside you. You lay facing each other when he set his hat on your head, an action so fond you nearly choked up with it.

He smiled at you, likely because of the way his hat was much too big and sat crookedly, covering one of your eyes completely. You had the sudden urge to give him yours, but it was on the floor behind you, and you wouldn’t move enough to ruin this perfect moment with him. He was never so…tender. Especially not with the way he looked at you. Like it was a privilege to do so.

You tilted his hat so you could see him out of both eyes and smiled at him. “What?”

He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. “Just…”

He took a moment. You would have given him all the time in the world to know what that look was for.

“You,” he admitted on an outward breath. “Ain’t what I expected.”

“How so?”

His eyes flicked away then, like he wasn’t used to this kind of talk. He obviously wasn’t, as you’d never gotten this much from him before, but it still softened you to see him so nervous over it. Like he was trying hard to get the words right.

“I didn’t expect you to be so…alive.”

Blue eyes met yours on the last word, and they nearly took your breath. Because he understood you in a way you hadn’t realized. You’d never been so proud to be called such a mundane thing. But it meant the world to you.

“I didn’t either,” you admitted. “I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

He made a huff of surprise. Or maybe disbelief.

“I mean it,” you told him. “As much as you like to grate on my nerves, I think you’re good for me.”

“Am I?” he said, a tease in his tone.

“You are.”

“Well, I…” He trailed off, his gaze averting again. His breathing quickened and grew heavy. You were willing to bet he would kill for a cigarette right about now. But you let his words hang, hoping he would finish. Hoping he would voice what you already felt.

“I’m glad I met you,” he said lowly. “You’re pretty damn good for me too, and I ain’t just saying that because you saved my neck.”

You chuckled. “No?”

He shook his head, those blue eyes flashing. But your gaze was suddenly drawn to his throat, to the subtle line you hadn’t noticed before. He had remnants of that noose on his skin, a slightly reddish-purple scar on his throat. It looked to be healing still, like he may rid himself of it yet. You hoped he did. That was a grim reminder of something he hadn’t deserved.

Without really thinking, you reached out and touched his skin, running your thumb over the edge of the mark. He flinched but didn’t push back.

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered.

He shrugged this off, catching your wrist and tugging it away. “Ah, I’ll survive yet. Besides, look at you now. You would have been fine without me.”

“No.” You met his eyes, needing him to know how serious you were. “No, I wouldn’t have.”

He stumbled a little over your hard gaze but went on. “I have no doubt you could have made it to your folks without me by that point.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

Again, he hesitated. Just watched you.

“I would have been heartbroken all over again, Arthur.”

This shocked him. Surprisingly, after everything the two of you had been through and blatantly felt for each other, he was still taken aback to hear that you cared so much.

“I couldn’t—can’t—do this without you.”

He studied you for a beat. Then, a little gruffly, “Me neither.”

It was your turn to be shocked.

“I mean…” he went on, trying hard to get his words right. “I don’t want to.”

And there it was. Just what you had been hoping so deep down that you wouldn’t even admit it to yourself—how much you wanted him to stay. How badly you hoped he would pick you over his old life.

“Me either,” you whispered.

His eyes flicked back and forth between yours, his hand finding the side of your face. You thought he would speak again, but instead he leaned forward and brought his lips to yours. It was all you ever needed to know, better than any word he could speak.

Within seconds, you moved into him, closing the space between your bodies. The kiss was slow but loving, just like the two of you. Slow to admit anything to each other but sure of it once that fondness was shared.

You broke away from him, finally finding your courage. “When we get to North Platte, I’d like you to consider staying. With me.”

The look he leveled you with was devastating. Pure shock. Awe at being so adored.

Instead of answering, his strong arms came around you and pulled you down, turning you beneath him as he kissed you. He kissed you hard, and you returned it. The act was plenty answer enough about how he felt.

Before you had even a measure of your fill of him, he broke away. But then he moved down, his mouth finding your throat just like it had in that old barn.

This, you thought. This, with him, was all there was. And you wanted all of him.

“Arthur,” you breathed, his lips like fire lighting your skin. He stopped and met your eye. “Teach me.”

His gaze went dark, but he asked anyway. “Teach you what?”

“All of it. I want all of you.”

He studied you. Then, quietly, “You sure?”

“More than I’ve ever been.”

His mouth crashed to yours. His hands skimmed against your sides until he grabbed your hips and pinned them flat to the bed. Then he was moving down again, fervent. Deliberate as he started with your boots, just like the last time. You were a bundle of anticipation as you watched him, felt him. But this time, you wouldn’t stand for him to do all the work himself.

Once he had your shoes off, you came forward and pushed him down to the bed instead. You knelt over him and started taking off his boots, unbuckling his gun belt. You didn’t care that you hadn’t done this and didn’t know what in the hell to do other than copy what he had done to you the last time. You shed your own coat and leaned forward, kissing him as you ran your arms through the sleeves, shedding the burly garment. And you kept kissing him as you brought his coat over his shoulders, letting him lean up as you pulled it away from his back and arms. Once he had one arm free, he wrapped it around you and pulled you tight against him as he kissed you hard, landing you right in his lap. His tongue was desperate against yours, and you could feel every inch of your arousal explode at the feeling of him so close. Of what was to come.

Eventually, the two of you parted enough for him to get more of your layers off. But your focus was never so sharp as it became when you went to undo the buttons of his shirt and union suit. Each inch of skin revealed was a gift. He was muscled and broad, with hair lining his chest and scars on his slightly freckled skin. One jagged pink line just under his collarbone drew your eye, and you kissed it. Your mouth was never so addicted to someone as it was when you started kissing his chest, moving upward, toward his neck. Then, finally, his mouth. Nothing was ever so perfect. He let out a satisfied breath and laid back down, content to let you kiss him. You were just the same. You suddenly wished you could draw like he could so that you could record this moment in your memory forever—what it looked like. You on top of him in nothing but your chemise and pants, sure as you kissed him. Him splayed below you, perfectly content to be there, his broad body encompassing yours and his shirt and union suit halfway off. That was doing things to you that you couldn’t explain. Your barely covered breasts were pushed up against his bare chest, and the heat and friction it brought was pure pleasure. Not to mention his mouth and how fully he took you, exploring every inch of you. One of his hands had fallen to your backside and was squeezing you with the slightest pressure but over and over again so that your bodies moved together. It was so good you needed more.

Finally finding the will to back off him again, you took his shirt and threw it aside before beginning to unbutton his pants. His head fell back to the bed, and he let out a low groan when your hands worked over what you were willing to guess was the most sensitive part of him. The anticipation to see his bare body ate at you so that you sped up, slipping his pants from his long, muscled legs. All that remained on him was the bottom half of his union suit, and the material was thin enough for you to see the outline of a hard bit of muscle running alongside his thigh and toward his belly. You knew next to nothing about a man’s anatomy but knew this was how one differed from a woman. So, without really thinking, you laid your hand on him there. He let out a groan so arousing you wanted this to happen already, wanted to feel that pleasure he had wrought from you so easily before.

You moved back up his body and started kissing him when he flipped you again, laying you underneath him. The sight was, again, something you’d never forget. Those broad, strong shoulders your gaze kept snagging on shifted and flexed as he worked the buttons of your pants. His chest did too, every scar moving under his strength. His arms were equally distracting, and you knew then it was no wonder people were easily intimidated by him. But you weren’t. And you admired every inch of him you could see as he slid your pants off and made to push your chemise up your chest.

“I’m making the same deal with you as before,” he said lowly as he admired your body. “You don’t like anything about this, and you tell me. I’ll stop.” His eyes met yours in their sincerity.

“You know I won’t stop you,” you breathed, the words coming out feminine and needy.

“We got a deal?” he said anyway.

You nodded. And because you remembered he preferred you to say it aloud, “Yes.” Then he pushed your chemise up and over your breasts, over your head and arms until he was dragging it all away. All your hesitation and inexperience, gone. All of it lost in the wake of his want of you.

He immediately brought his mouth down to your nipple, the feeling of warmth it brought just like last time. You’d forgotten how perfect it felt. You brought your hand to the back of his head, playing with the short strands as your mouth fell open in pleasure. He was moving against you this time, his heavy body lining against yours in a way that drove you mad.

You let out a moan at a particularly harsh swirl of his tongue, then did it again when his free hand found your other breast. God above, you could feel this for an eternity and never tire of it. But this wasn’t just about you.

Your hand slid down his muscled back, down until it reached the edge of his union suit. You wanted it off. Wanted him bare, completely.

You started to tug at the fabric when Arthur’s hands shifted, and his mouth moved away just enough for him to get his balance as he stripped his remaining clothes away. You watched him in awe. You watched as he turned slightly to get the union suit over his feet, the sight of his bare side so muscled and strong like the rest of him wholly distracting. But it wasn’t until he turned back toward you that your gaze caught and held. You could feel his eyes on you, could sense his amusement in his resulting chuckle, but you didn’t care. What you had touched before between his legs was now free of any clothing, a hard line of muscle just like the rest of him that stood erect against his body. The sight alone swallowed you in arousal.

He clambered closer, beginning to speak. “You-”

Your hand was around that proud length before he could say another word. He hissed a breath at your touch, and you quickly let go, thinking you’d done something wrong.

“Christ, woman,” he mumbled, nearly falling on top of you in his fervor to kiss you again.

“I’m sorry,” you said into his mouth, not knowing what it was you’d been trying, only that you couldn’t resist.

He pulled away and looked into your eyes, his gaze full and heavy as the smirk beneath it. “Shit, don’t apologize. I’d prefer you did it again if it wouldn’t cut this meetin’ so short.”

You were more confused by that than anything but didn’t respond, especially when he leaned down to kiss you and you felt that length against your thigh, hard and impossible to ignore.

You moaned into his mouth, feeling his hand begin to skim down your side. His fingers brushed over the bumpy, scarred skin near your ribs and hesitated. He broke away, looking down at the scar he had mended back together himself. His fingers ran across it, caressing it. A wordless apology for what had happened to you. The touch made conflicting emotions fight to be free from deep within you. Because the scar was a painful reminder of what would never go away, a loss so potent you could cry over it even now. But you wouldn’t, because you were equally as enthralled with Arthur’s loving touch, with how he had stitched you back together both physically and emotionally. He was still doing it to this day. And the touch was a tangible reminder—how much he would surrender himself over to you just to make you somewhat whole again. Something you’d never thought you would be gifted by him but, you were beginning to learn, something he did naturally. Kind, selfless man.

Arthur brought his mouth down to your side and pressed a kiss to that scar, tender and patient. It nearly brought tears to your eyes.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, needing to put your thoughts elsewhere. Needing him to put the pieces of you back together again one more time.

He obliged you. All sadness was lost as his hand drifted downward and between your legs, a blazing heat taking its place. Just like before, he worked his fingers against you as a slickness gathered there, urging you to rock against him. And you did, a bundle of anticipation over waiting for what you had felt last time—his finger sliding inside of you. But he took his time and circled his thumb around those nerves again, making you arch into his touch.

After enough of this, it turned into a pleasurable sort of torture. You broke the kiss. “Arthur,” you warned, though it sounded more like begging. And perhaps you were.

He let out a low laugh that caught on every inch of your arousal. “Just making sure you’re ready for me. Don’t want to hurt you, darlin’.”

Darling. How endearing. Now that was a nickname you could grow used to.

You considered what else he’d said and remembered that slight feeling of discomfort at his finger moving inside of you, like your body wasn’t used to such things. But you also remembered how good it felt to get beyond that feeling, that and his chosen nickname enough to have you wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him back down in a kiss. He let out a low noise this time, more of a satisfied breath. And it was enough to have your tongue finding his as his finger dipped inside of you. You froze, completely focused on the feeling. Arthur took control of the kiss, of everything, as he moved his hand against you. You were breathing heavy in seconds, the feeling beyond satisfaction.

After enough of this for that curling feeling to take hold deep within you, he slipped another finger into you. You were wrong before. That was beyond satisfaction. Your eyes rolled back in your head, and you couldn’t kiss him anymore as you rocked against his hand, completely caught up in those thick fingers moving so persistently. He didn’t miss a beat, his mouth going to your neck instead, pressing hot kisses to the spot just below your ear as you panted for him.

The feeling from before, that explosive feeling you so wanted to experience again, was nearing. “Please,” you whispered, desperate for it. But before Arthur could drag it out of you, his fingers were slipping away. You nearly whimpered at the loss, looking down to see why he’d stopped. Your heartbeat pounded through you, right between your legs, when you saw where he moved. He was settling between your legs, the hard length of him running against the inside of your thigh. And you understood then exactly what this was, what you had asked of him and what he was about to do. To be fit together so perfectly, so completely, that there was no beginning or end between you.

He met your eyes, boxing you in completely beneath his heavy body. “You sure you want this?” His voice was rough with his own arousal.

“Desperately,” you breathed.

That made him smirk, the look of it so perfect on his face you wanted to kiss it away. But he beat you to it, his mouth coming down on yours. And in seconds, his full weight was against your body, and he pushed his hips into yours until you felt the head of his length slip inside of you. You moaned, your head falling back to the bed with how perfect and full it felt, and Arthur grunted as his hands found your head and he devoured you in a kiss, his hips moving slowly and carefully, in and out as shallowly as he could.

You couldn’t get air down but didn’t care as the feeling of him moving inside of you stretched you wide. He went deeper with every rock of his hips, the small bout of pain returning like it had before, but you didn’t stop him. Wouldn’t dare. It was more pleasurable than it was harsh, and besides, it was doing things to him, not just you. Things you wanted to hear and feel from him every moment. He was as lost as you were, beginning to pick up his pace as his mouth on yours became distracted.

You were soon both panting, both riding on pleasure so full and growing fuller the deeper he rocked into you. He finally broke the kiss, bearing all focus on where your bodies met. By now he was so deep inside of you it was impossible to think of him never not being there, like he belonged there. And the thought alone of him taking you like this, making you his, was forcing that tension deep within you to ratchet up at every thrust.

You whined his name. He groaned low and rough in response, shifting his hands to your hips to hold you steady beneath him as he thrust hard. It felt so good you knew you would be unraveling again in seconds. And, to add to that perfect build, you brought one leg up and hooked it around him, making for a better angle for him to sink into you. It was immediately euphoric.

“Y/N,” he groaned, a desperate plea.

And that—the power in that utterance, your name on his lips—was your undoing.

You let out a small cry as your pleasure snapped in two.

He cursed a filthy word, and your world constricted to the feel of him inside of you, rocking those beautiful hips, pulling every ounce of pleasure your body could give. It shot through every part of you. It tore you apart and put you back together all at once. Just like his fondness for you did.

You were letting out one long whine for him when your senses came back. And, you realized, he was saying something. Your name. He was saying your name like a prayer. Never in your life were you so proud for someone to have it, for someone to use it in this way. So reverent and honored by it, like it was a gift to know it and a privilege to speak it.

You loved him then. You were sure of it.

Arthur’s pace stuttered a moment before a breath rattled through his chest and he pulled back, sliding out of you. He half-collapsed on top of you, something warm and wet meeting the skin of your stomach as he groaned like a man utterly unraveled. You knew then he was experiencing the same pleasure you just had. Knowing you’d both felt it, together, because of each other…you were so proud that the feeling fought to be free from your chest.

Arthur drew in each labored breath above you, only propped up by one strong forearm now. The other fell lazily over you as he held the side of your face like he would never release you again. His hair fell over his gaze, and only when he looked up at you did you smile. Just for him.

“Pretty girl,” he murmured, running his thumb along your cheekbone as he went back to attempting to control his breathing.

You blushed under those words but pushed through the flattered feeling it brought you and said what you couldn’t resist. “Was that- was I…okay?”

He scoffed a laugh. “You kidding?”

“I don’t exactly know what I’m doing-”

He cut you off with a less than innocent kiss and pulled back with that smirk on his face. “You were perfect.” He rolled to his back beside you, the bed creaking with his weight. Still, he sucked down air like he couldn’t catch it. That proudness of yours reared its head again at the sound. “So perfect,” he continued, “That I’m gonna need to do it all over again just to be sure it’s as perfect as I remember.”

Now that, you could get behind. Those muscles low in your belly were already tightening at the mere mention of again. But before you could turn to him and coax him into repeating the act, he was leaning over the side of the bed, his strong back flexing with the movement. The sound of his satchel opening and shutting filled the room, and then he had a black cloth in his hand and was touching it to your belly. Right—you’d forgotten about that wetness from before, and now you watched as he wiped whatever it was away.

“What’s that?” you had the courage to ask.

Arthur’s eyes flicked up to yours, and that incessant smirk returned. “‘Course,” he said, swiping the last of it away and tossing the cloth aside. “Forgot you knew as much about this as I do about living up in them mountains.”

“Very funny.”

He snickered. “It’s…well. When a man finds his pleasure, that’s what happens.” His expression filled with amusement as he shifted to his side, propping up on an elbow. “You don’t know nothing about this, do you? About being with child?”

You shook your head. “I figured sex leads to pregnancy, but I’ve never really thought past that.” And suddenly, the very idea had worry blooming sharp and fierce within you. “I won’t…I’m not going to get pregnant, am I?”

He snickered again and shook his head more with amusement than any sort of affirmation. “No, you won’t.”

“How are you so sure-”

“Relax,” he teased, drawing the word out. “The only way that could happen is if I’d done that inside of you.”

You felt Arthur’s smirking stare like a brand then, because just those words had your arousal flaring. Did part of you…want that?

You must have made a face, because Arthur pushed you on it. “What?”

“Nothing,” you insisted.

He chuckled, the sound making you turn away or risk admitting that particular genius.

“Can’t lie to me, darlin’.”

There was that word again. You turned back to him, finding you were watching his mouth of all things. “You finally landed on a decent nickname, then.”

“You like that one?”

God, his smile. The way he said those words. You were a mess of fondness over his annoyingly handsome face when you quipped, “Much better than the others.”

“What, nameless or sweetheart?”

You swatted at his bare chest and immediately regretted it when your hand met with hard muscle. “Damn you,” you muttered, but you were smiling as you said it. Stupid, perfect man. He smiled right back.

“At least you never have to call me nameless again,” you offered.

His smile turned thoughtful. Content. “No. I don’t.”

You remembered then how he had said your name before. It ate you up inside to think he had only used it in the moments that mattered most. The first time being when you’d offered it to him, something that led to your walls coming down right alongside his. Then moments ago, giving up the last pieces of yourselves to each other. And maybe that’s what that utterance had been to him—a surrender. The damning truth that you both felt too strongly to shy away from it any longer. There was no more space for reluctance to stay. There was no more time for it either.

You recalled your request before all this, asking him to stay with you. He’d never answered, but when he said your name with so much care, any worry about the matter vanished. Because there was love in that word. He felt for you just as you felt for him. And that was more answer than anything else he could have said because he had used the perfect word to make you understand—the word most important to you of any of them. Not a yes, but a confession. Not an acceptance, but a name. The one word you had left to hold dear. And looking at him now smiling down at you, you felt that fondness and understanding from him better than you’d ever felt it from anyone.

Instead of any response, you kissed him. Acceptance in your own form. And just as soft and supple as a yes on his lips, he kissed you back.

_________

tag list: @nayomi247 @ultraporcelainpig @photo1030 @spiritcatcherxo @calcarius445 @meet-me-backstage @marygillisapologist @formula1mount @oziozzioslo @lunawolfclaw @c1gs-coffee

[fakeagatha]

Hi! I have a request on "stress!R x Agatha"? How agatha reacts to R having stress from exam?

A/N: First of all, I'm so sorry this took so long to get done, I haven't really been focusing on my writing at all. It's not very long, but I hope you enjoy! Secondly, Agatha all Along is actually incredible, so I just had to add that.

Exam Crap | Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: You and Agatha have a movie night as a break from your exam studying.

Word Count: 444

Exam season has begun for you at university, and it's more overwhelming than you assumed it would be. You stare blankly at your laptop, notes and books scattered along your desk, almost drowning you as they piled around.

Your girlfriend, Agatha, wandered into the room after she came back from running errands and paused when she spotted you. 

"You okay?" You heard her ask, and you snapped out of your thoughts, looking up at her.

"Oh yeah, yeah I'm alright..." You nodded, "Just with exam season coming up, everything is a bit hectic." You admitted, leaning back in your chair.

Agatha raised an eyebrow, "What crap are they making you learn anyway?" She peered over your shoulder, "I swear, you'll never use most of this in your life anyway." She shook her head. "How long have you been sitting here?"

You blinked, "Three hours, I think?" You said uncertainly, and Agatha sighed.

"Right, let's do something better, shall we? You need a break." Your girlfriend said, taking your hand and leading you to the bed. "We'll watch a movie or something, yeah?"

You reluctantly nodded, knowing that you needed to relax but also too tired to protest.

Agatha sat you down on your shared bed, before gathering a couple extra pillows and blankets and organizing them. "You want me to make you something? I can make that hot chocolate you love?" She raised an eyebrow, and you nodded.

"Thank you, Agatha." You smiled, and she wandered into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two cups of hot chocolate. 

She set them down on the bedside table, before laying down in bed next to you and wrapping an arm around you.

You sigh in contentment, as she flicked through the apps on your TV. "Now... We could watch something scary, or funny, or romantic?" She grinned at you, and you leaned into her with a smirk, "What about a Comedy Horror?" You asked, and she looked at you.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I don't want you feeling even more stressed with something scary..." She said, slightly concerned, and you shook your head, "No, don't worry, I'll be fine." You chuckled, and she just shrugged. "If you say so..." Agatha said while she scrolled through the movies, inspecting the thumbnails until you both found one that looked appealing enough.

"What about that?" You pointed, and she nodded in agreement. "That looks quite good..." She pressed play, and held you even closer to her, while lazily running her hand through your hair.

As the movie began, you looked up at her, "Thank you," You mumbled, giving Agatha a soft smile. "I love you..." She pulled you in for a short kiss, "I love you too."

[amyelevenn]

All I know is that you drove us off the road

PAIRING; Oscar Piastri x driver!reader

SUMMARY; Oscar insists on taking you to the airport after a race, but faces engine problems on the way there.

WARNINGS; none really - mainly fluff! maybe a car breaking down?

A/N; I really enjoyed writing this! let me know any thoughts and feelings are always appreciated!

1.8k words masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・♥︎・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・♥︎・✫・゜・。.

“No, please. I can make my own way to the airport, Piastri,” you laugh, giving him a shit eating grin at his implication. “I can drive, ya know.”

It was the Monday after the Melbourne Grand Prix; it wasn’t a particularly notable race for either of you, despite you both finishing in point scoring positions. It wasn’t an overly entertaining race; no flags or spectacular overtakes from anyone in particular.

“You were drunk last night, not sure you should be driving,” he grinned, mischief dancing in his eyes.

A couple drinks were consumed the night before at a local bar Oscar’s friends had told you about. It wasn’t much, not overly busy on a random Sunday night in March. It allowed for some kind of anonymity, something that was quickly becoming a foreign concept to you.

You shove his shoulder, giggling as you feign anger. “I had two drinks! In what world does that classify as being drunk?”

Oscar rolls his eyes, shaking his head with a happy chuff. “Please, come to the airport with me. I’m going that way anyway!”

It’s hard not to deadpan at him; you may not have been a local, but you knew well enough that the Melbourne Airport wasn’t exactly near anything else. It was well over an hour from the city, where he was claiming to be headed.

“Osc, just accept the no,” you half beg, beginning to roll your suitcase away from him and towards where your team were gathered. You almost manage to take two steps before his hand wraps around your arm, pulling you back in his direction.

He had miscalculated how close you would end up being to him – you were mere inches away from his face, bodies all but pressed against each other.

“I insist. Let me take you to the airport, love,” he mutters, with an air of intimacy that came with the proximity.

You hadn’t realised you were holding your breath in anticipation until your body forced you to sigh. Finally, you give in to his insistence, silently nodding in acceptance. He takes a second, closely examining your face, before moving in the direction of his car. your face heats up ever so slightly, the butterflies fluttering in your stomach not something you were wanting to experience.

You are just friends, a little voice screams in the back of your mind. But the way he looks at you makes you wonder – what if there could be something more?

You were quick with your goodbyes to your team, informing them Oscar had pestered your walls down enough to convince you to ride with him. You comically exaggerate it as much as you can, making him into some sort of creepy guy who doesn’t leave you alone until you finally agree to go out with him. They all laugh, hard, which confuses you until a hand taps on your shoulder, revealing the man himself standing awkwardly behind you.

You excuse yourself from the group, laughter echoing behind you as you and Oscar walk away, his teasing grin matching your own.

“You really think I’m some annoying loser?” he teases, bumping his elbow into yours as you enter the hotel carpark. You barely even notice his hand resting softly on the small of your back as he guides you towards his car.

“Ha ha,” you sarcastically laugh, purposely losing all tone from your voice. He shakes his head as he silently giggles to himself, opening the passenger door for you. You thank him faintly, making a mental note of his little actions that have really established him at the respectful, gentlemanly one on the grid; and rightfully so.

Getting in himself, he revs the engine before pulling away from the crowded midday carpark. A soft silence envelops you, punctuated only by the gentle hum of the radio. It wasn’t uncomfortable, nor foreign, sitting in the quiet of each other’s presence. In fact, the tranquillity was a welcomed constant in your ever busy careers.

You had known Oscar for a couple years now, and he was one of the few drivers who actively went out of his way to maintain a positive relationship off the track, despite your lives depending on besting the other ever odd weekend.

As the car navigated the city’s complex grid, the beauty of Albert Park in autumn faded from view, leaving you in awe of the towering Melbournian metropolis—a testament to human ingenuity that always amazed you.

“You drove really well yesterday,” he gives, not necessarily trying to fill the comfortable silence.

“Thank you, Osc. It was certainly better than the crash I had in Bahrain!” you laugh, beginning to find it increasingly hard to ignore his constant glances over to you. “You drove a great race too! That overtake of Leclerc was really quite something.”

He sighs, dismissing the comment as if it meant nothing. He tried so hard to act nonchalant on the surface, but internally? He adored hearing any praise you had for him, even if it wasn’t directly from you, but instead Lando or the PR manager telling him you said ‘Osc is so beyond talented!’

It didn’t take much for you to compliment him, which was the best part; he was always doing something amazing that prompted telling him just how good he was, or how lucky he had gotten that day, or how cool his special livery looked.

Even it was miniscule, you always had a comment for him that would make his day.

You hadn’t even noticed the car slowing to a stop, pulling over on the side of some random suburban road until you were at a full stop, the engine beginning to smoke under the hood.

“Oscar what the hell have you done…” you raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Uh, I’m not sure but I reckon we should maybe get out of the car,” he stutters, pushing himself out of his side before opening the hood to assess the severity of the situation.

You shook your head in disbelief, a chuckle escaping your lips at the absurdity of your situation. Here you are, stuck on the side of the road, while a Formula 1 driver fumbles under the hood. Talk about irony.

It was difficult, watching him rattle around underneath the hood when he clearly had no expertise here and not laugh your ass off. “This feels like…some sort of karma for forcing me to ride with you. I thought you knew how to drive?” you finally laugh, the ludicrosity of it all hitting you like a brick wall.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you watched him struggle – maybe he needed more than a racing licence to handle car troubles.

“Hey, i didn’t twist your arm to get in, love,” he huffs. “And I am an amazing driver, thank you so very much.” He tries to stifle the smile breaking out on his face, but you notice it before it got hidden away.

Before you are able to retaliate, a middle-aged couple emerges from the house you had broken down in front of.

“You fellas alright?” the man asks, pushing the gate outwards so they have a better vantage point over the smoking vehicle.

“We are so sorry, are we in the way?” you ask, putting on a sympathetic show that you had become so used to having for the fans. “We were just about to call for help, they shouldn’t take too long to get here.”

“Nah mate, they’ll take foreva to get ‘ere and cost ya an arm an’ a leg. Let me help youse,” he offers, but doesn’t allow you the option as he waddles over to where Oscar is still hunched over.

The woman moves to stand next to you, introducing herself, Kristyn, and her husband, Mitch. You give yours in return, to which she compliments you on your name. “’ve never met one before,” she muses, repeating your name gently under her breath to herself.

You smile softly, making light small talk as Mitch explains to Oscar what is at fault with the engine.

“You two seem like a gorgeous couple. How long’ve you been datin’?” she asks, not noticing the caught-off-guard expression you have on your face.

You feel heat rush to your cheeks as she compliments you, your heart racing at the unexpected attention. It almost bugs you more than you would have anticipated, a sense of embarrassment creeping along your flushed skin.

You ponder telling her the truth, that you aren’t together, but figure it would be easier to go along with it, for her and your sake.

“Almost a year now, yeah,” you smile, feigning a sense of admiration for your ‘boyfriend.’

“Aw, bless your sweet young hearts,” she hums, gently patting your shoulder as if to say you had her approval. It was weird, but it felt nice to have her endorsement of a relationship that wasn’t even real. Maybe you wanted more with Oscar?

You nod along, answering any and all of her follow up questions about him, like how you met, how he asked you out, if marriage was on the table. You almost enjoyed making up a whole story for her, weaving this intricate narrative for her to invest herself in. the pair of you had gotten so caught up in each other that you hadn’t noticed the car being put back together, Mitch reviving the engine in approval of a job well done.

“Well, at least he isn’t the only one who can’t handle car troubles!” you muse, laughing with Kristyn as the boys make their way over to you.

Mitch wraps a lose arm around his wife, and you follow his lead as you intertwine your own around Oscars waist, to which he accepts with no questions.

“Thank you so much for your troubles,” he murmurs. “Can i give you some money or something? It’s the least we could do.”

The couple scoff in sync, laughing at the idea of being paid for merely helping out a stranger. “Nah, we don’t want your dough mate. Just don’t blow the car up, that’ll be enough.”

“Are you sure? Please, let us compensate you in some way, as a thank you,” you suggest.

“Maybe you should drive instead of him, aye?” Kristyn laughs, breaking the four of you into a fit of giggles. You nod in agreement, to which Oscar immediately shoots down with the reason of it’s his car.

“Well, thank you again for your help. We really appreciate it.” Oscar squeezes your shoulders, then releases you as he walks over to the passenger side to open it for you. It wasn’t until then that you realised how much you had been leaning into his side, missing the warmth of him almost immediately. You say your goodbyes, telling them it was really nice to meet them, and one final thank you for their kindness.

As you drive on, laughter spilling between you, you can’t help but think maybe this unexpected detour was just what you needed to explore what’s brewing beneath the surface.

.・。.・゜✭・♥︎・✫・゜・。.

as always, feedback is appreciated!

[utilitycaster]

(you don't need to publish this because a) it's not a question and b) I don't want that maybe you're getting attacked/vagueblogged over it) I just wanted to say, that I originally came to your blog because of your nuanced, deep and really really good Caleb meta and that Imogenfans are missing out big time. I think, if Im/odna fans wouldn't have acted the way they did and talented people hadn't stopped writing meta about them, at least I would have warmed up to the characters way more....

Hi anon,

I hope you don't mind me publishing it anyway just because it's a good opportunity to elaborate on a few rather fanwanky feelings in one brief-ish statement.

I don't really care if people vague me and I think people who don't like being vagued are valid, but people who don't like being vagued, whine about it, and then continue to vague others are, understandably, idiots making the situation worse. Most people who had issues with being vagued re: the above simply stopped writing meta, which is why there's not much of it. Also a lot of what people call vaguing is just meta that disagrees with theirs, to be honest. I mean I do vague, a lot, and I'm very good at it, but I've also written 100% good faith meta about things I was thinking about the narrative without consideration of other peoples' opinions and it was called vaguing because I used aggressive tactics like citing my sources.

I've covered the fact that Imogen was actually treated very similarly to Caleb with the key difference that people who wrote meta about Caleb were treated badly by his haters, whereas people who wrote meta about Imogen were treated badly by her then-supporters who are now mostly defending Ashton and Dorian because Imogen started saying things they don't like and don't want to address. I just want to reiterate that if someone ever says that The Male Characters Played By White Actors Never Receive Hate you should just block them and stop taking them seriously. The hate is obviously not motivated by bigotry against real people, typically (though some criticism of Veth was certainly misogynistic even though Sam is a man, for example) but they still did receive pretty intense hate. It is kind of telling, personally, re a certain lack of backbone that people will bring up the horrible things people said about Liam or Travis or Taliesin in their own defense and then turn around and willingly engage with the people making these accusations they clearly know to be false, but you know. Unsurprising.

I tried to write something longer that really dug into the outline of events but it really comes down to this: a lot of the direct harassment (not vagueing) of meta writers, especially with regards to Imogen or Laudna, occurred during episodes like...20-50 of this campaign, and I think those doing the harassment either thought this would somehow make meta writers go "oh my god you're so right about the thing that you said I should die for not agreeing with, I'm going to write meta for you now" or that this would shut them down but wouldn't make other meta writers say "oh this environment has become hostile", which obviously it would. Coupled with the fact that this is when a lot of meta writers realized the campaign pacing was fucked and the party wasn't clicking in the same way past ones had and it really turned into a case of high risk of unpleasantness for a not really worth it reward for many of the meta writers who were around in earlier campaigns, and that in TURN meant that it's harder to have a good conversation without having existing chats so it's a less pleasant place for new fans. Anyway uh. I think the lesson here is that those C2 meta writers ARE around for Midst and Candela Obscura so it's also kind of a waiting game in the event that there is a future campaign (and if not, they will still be here for Midst/Candela/Possibly Daggerheart or future EXUs); they're just not here to write about Imogen or Laudna because it's not worth the trouble.

[kieraelieson]

"One Emo Latte, with Extra Soulmates"

All Five Chapters - Or Read on AO3

Roll the Poll fic 1: Janus, Virgil, and Remy in a triad. In a Hurt/Comfort fic with a Soulmates universe and the prompt ‘housing’.

Content warning for kidnapping, fear of death, mild self-injury, quite a bit of cursing, as well as societal and specific poly-phobia.

Virgil’s head nodded and he jerked it upright. He’d hoped the smell of coffee would keep him awake, but he’d been nodding off ever since midnight. 

“Heya, babes,” the barista said, giving him a wry, apologetic smile. 

Virgil knew immediately why he was there. “Two hours again already?” 

Remy nodded, peeking at Virgil over his shades. “Why don’t you head home and get some sleep? You could certainly use it.” 

Virgil sighed, his inhibitions broken down by the lack of sleep and the way his favorite barista had allowed him to nod off in the corner all night, only following protocol when necessary. Namely, that a customer had to buy something every two hours, or else be asked to leave. 

“I’m having… housing difficulties…” Virgil admitted, not willing to share any more. 

Remy put a hand on his hip, considering Virgil. He then glanced around the cafe, confirming that it was empty. He sat down across from Virgil. 

“We may be open 24 hours, but this really isn’t a great option.” 

Virgil nodded. “Yeah, I know. I can— I can just go.”

“Hold on, bitch. I’m not kicking you out. Just trying to help you find a place to sleep.” 

Virgil shrugged helplessly. “I don’t have much cash for a hotel or something.” 

“What about your soulmate?” Remy asked. “I’m sure they’ll be willing to put you up for a night.” He winked at Virgil. “Pretty lil emo down on his luck, I’d tap that too.”

The flirty joke pulled a half grin out of Virgil. “I haven’t met him yet,” he admitted. 

Remy shrugged. “Loads of soulmates are close to each other before they meet. Scribble down the address of the cafe. See if he shows up. Here, I’ve got a pen.”

Virgil took the pen, staring at it doubtingly. 

Remy stood and stretched. “I need some caffeine in me too. I’ll treat you for this one.” 

Virgil’s eyes went wide and he gaped at Remy. “No, you don’t have to do that!” 

Remy just waved a hand dismissively in his direction, already going behind the counter and starting to pull out cups. 

Virgil’s gaze was drawn to the pen again. He didn’t really dare to ask his soulmates for help. Not writing on his skin in public. They too clearly had different handwriting. Were too clearly Two. 

It was the very reason he was out here now. Slipping up and referring to plural soulmates. His roommates didn’t want someone near them with two soulmates. No one did. 

He’d been stopping by this cafe for over a year now, had made friends with Remy. He didn’t want to throw that away on a chance of a bed. He’d manage. He’d be fine. Somehow. 

Maybe he’d try to get back inside the apartment anyway. Just cause his roommates didn’t like it, it wasn’t like they would physically force him out, right? If he just stayed in his room. Kept the door locked. He already wore long shirts and pants. As long as his soulmates didn’t screw him over with writing on his hands or face or something. 

Remy came back, setting a steaming cup in front of Virgil. A to-go cup. 

“Any responses?” Remy asked. 

Virgil forced a smile. “Yeah, um, I’ve gotta get on the next bus, but he’ll meet me.” 

“There you go!” Remy praised. “Have a nice night, practice safe sex, tell me all about it at some reasonable hour.” 

Virgil stood up, taking the cup and laughing along with Remy. He left the cafe, abandoning the warm lit environment for the empty streets. 

Someone entered just as he was leaving. Virgil only got a brief glimpse of him, but he was very unique, especially wearing a hat like that. 

••^*^••

Remy huffed as Janus entered. And just after Virgil left too. He usually got a bit of time to chill on an overnight shift. 

“Oh, and I’m just overjoyed to see you too,” Janus said smoothly, leaning against the counter with an entirely too attractive grin. 

Remy rolled his eyes. “What’s your snakey ass doing bothering me at bitch o'clock in the morning?”

“A man can get a coffee, can’t he?” Janus purred, looking perfectly innocent. 

“Not you,” Remy snarked, already starting to make Janus’s favorite. 

Janus just smiled. 

“Why are you really here?” Remy pushed. 

Janus looked at his wrist, noticeably lacking in a watch. “Oh dear, what time is it?” 

Remy scowled. “No.” 

Janus looked back up at him, all innocence. “No? I genuinely do not have the time.” 

Remy gritted his teeth. “You know someday I will not do this for you.” 

Janus batted his eyelashes. 

Remy shoved his coffee at him. “You’re lucky you’re pretty, bastard. It’s 4:27 am.” 

Janus smirked triumphantly. “I was just chatting with you and sipping my coffee till 5.” 

“Bitch.” 

Janus wiggled his gloved fingers in Remy’s direction, sauntering out of the cafe. “I’ll owe you~”

“You better pay up this time, asshole!” Remy snapped at his back. 

Fucking pretty ass Janus. And fuck his own crush on the man! He’d never have been dragged into all this if he could just keep it in his pants. 

••^*^••

Janus arrived at the location. Why Remus had ever decided they had to meet up here was a mystery. As were most things about the man. 

But. It was within walking distance of that cafe where Remy worked, so he had an easy alias and no license plate to track. His hat kept his face out of view from any cameras he didn’t discover ahead of time and avoid. It was early enough in the morning that both night owls and early risers were likely to be in bed. 

Janus waited outside the apartments, putting himself in the shadow of a large ornamental shrub. Just a few minutes later a car drove up. 

“Heya, Jan!” Remus greeted, throwing open the driver side door. 

Janus grimaced at his volume, snapping in hushed tones. “Would you keep it down?”

Remus rolled his eyes obnoxiously, and then fished out a folder. “I got all the juicy details for you~” 

Janus accepted the folder, flicking through it rapidly just to confirm Remus hadn’t swapped it with some folder of which sex toys he preferred or some nonsense. 

“I appreciate it,” Janus said. “I’ll pay you the usual—“ 

He cut off as there was suddenly a loud crash from inside the nearest apartment. Janus cursed. This was why he would have preferred a different meeting location! 

Remus craned his neck, trying to sneak a peek through the apartment window. “Oh this is perfect! Any suspicious persons’ reports will point right to those guys.”

Janus tensed, despite Remus’s optimism, as yelling continued from in the apartment. It was too muffled for him to tell what was going on, but he didn’t care to know either. 

“We should get out of here,” Janus said. 

Just then, the door to the apartment opened, and someone was pushed roughly out, falling to the pavement. 

“Don’t let me see your freak ass again or I Will beat the shit out of you!” A man from within the apartment yelled, slamming the door shut. 

Janus winced. He did not want to be a part of some domestic dispute. He turned to walk away, even if Remus was going to be an idiot and stay to watch. 

But then the crumpled man on the ground said something that stopped Janus in his tracks. 

Just one word. A simple, “You?” Implying recognition. 

Fuck. 

Janus didn’t know the man from Adam. But he was not allowing someone to see him, in this location, at this time, knowing who he was somehow. No. He could not leave witnesses. 

He turned to Remus. “Help me.” 

Remus, showing off one of his brief streaks of competency, scrambled out of the car and dashed the few feet towards the man. 

Janus slid into the driver’s seat just as Remus pulled the struggling man into the backseat, one hand covering his mouth. He sped out of the apartment complex, taking roads with less cameras and getting out of the town. 

Fuck, what was he going to do now?!

Chapter Two

Virgil was going to die. 

He’d thought he could just slip into the apartment and to his room with everyone asleep, but Roger was still up, and saw him immediately. He confronted Virgil, ruining all plans of laying low as his words quickly became yelling. Virgil tried to defend himself, that he couldn’t help how many soulmates he had, and he hadn’t even met them! But Roger didn’t care. He wanted Virgil out. 

Virgil, with a confidence built only of the coffee he could still taste on his tongue, had refused to leave. He’d thought that, angry as they might get, his roommates wouldn’t actually escalate to physically pushing him out. 

Oh how wrong that was. 

His ribs still ached from the several hits they’d absorbed before he’d been shoved out the door. And his head was spinning and aching from the impact against the coffee table. 

And also the fact that he was going to die. 

That guy with the hat was doing some, some drug deal or something, who knew, and Virgil like a supreme dumbass had opened his mouth. 

Tall, big, and stinky had grabbed him, an arm wrapped around both of his, pinning them to his torso, and the other hand clamped over his nose and mouth. He couldn’t scream, couldn’t get the breath to. All his kicking and wriggling hadn’t been enough before he was pulled into the car. 

And now they were driving away. 

He was So Dead. 

The guy holding him shifted the hand over his face once the car was moving, uncovering his nose so Virgil could breathe freely. He sucked in air, tears beginning to leak from his eyes. 

He was the fucking worst, unluckiest son of a bitch to ever exist. Two soulmates, homeless now, kidnapped. And they didn’t have masks on. No masks meant he could recognize them, and they wouldn’t leave him alive. 

He was going to die. 

He didn’t want to die! 

His whole life he’d been looked down on or bullied for having two soulmates but he’d never even met them! He wanted to at least see them before he died. 

Virgil’s breath came faster, catching in his congested nose and making him panic. He needed to breathe! He couldn’t breathe! 

His chest heaved with sobs and his desperate attempts to get air. 

“Might get loud,” the man holding him said, and then abruptly the hand over Virgil’s mouth was gone. 

Virgil gasped, drinking in the air. Without the cover over his mouth his sobs rang out loud in the otherwise silent car. If he wasn’t so thoroughly miserable and about to die anyway he would’ve been embarrassed, might’ve managed to stop himself, but he just couldn’t. 

“I don’t wanna— Please, don’t kill me!” He forced out between sobs. 

“We’re not going to kill you,” the driver snapped. 

He didn’t know if he could believe it. But even without a single assurance that it was the truth, relief flooded through Virgil. 

“I didn’t see anything,” he blurted. “I-I don’t have a clue who you are. I don’t know what you were doing. I d-don’t know anything. I swear I won’t tell anyone anything!” 

The driver made a frustrated sound. “Just— shut up.” 

Virgil fell silent, other than his breath coming in hiccuping half-sobs. 

“What is our plan, Jannie?” The man holding him asked. 

The driver made a rough, growling sound. “For now, I’m getting us out of town. We’ll have to find a way to manage him without you carrying him everywhere so I can drop you off. I’ll figure out what to do from there. And I’ll need to keep the car.” 

“I’ve got duct tape!” The man said, entirely too happily. 

Virgil squirmed against his hold, trying to get his arms free to— to— to make a nuisance of himself at least. Of the two men, one had recognized his need to breathe, and the other had told him to shut up. He liked his living chances better with both of them than just the one. 

But the man holding Virgil was far too strong for him to fight against, and soon Virgil was pressed down into a car seat, his arms pulled behind his back. He bit back another sob as his wrists were taped together, and then the tape wound around his torso and arms haphazardly. 

“Check him for anything dangerous,” the driver said. “And anything he could use to contact someone.” 

A chill ran down Virgil’s spine. He was gonna die anyway, wasn’t he? 

••^*^••

Janus’s mind had been nothing but a steady stream of ‘Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck’ ever since he’d heard the crash in that apartment. 

Now he had a man tied up in the car, terrified for his life, and no idea what to do with him. 

Now that he had the folder, Janus’s plans had been to buckle down and work on the contents. It would take him days, and that was if he managed to be fast enough. He didn’t have Time for a problem like this! 

And even if he Had time, that still left the question of what was he going to do?? He couldn’t let him go, that was obvious. He definitely wasn’t going to kill him. The only other option seemed to be keeping him, but that wasn’t at all viable long term. 

At least for the moment though, Janus couldn’t see any other options. 

Remus had flipped up the man’s hood over his eyes, so he couldn’t look out and around at where they were as they approached a place where Janus could drop Remus off. He also properly buckled him in before he got out, a thing he ought to have done ages ago. Since then, the man had been quiet. 

Janus drove, looping around and doubling back multiple times on his way to his house. The less the man knew about where they were and how to get back, the better. 

Janus sighed heavily as he parked. His gut was already twisted in knots, his conscience screaming with how much he’d already done to this random person. And here he was about to scare him more. 

He pulled out the gun he knew Remus had hidden in the car, pointing it at the man, held low enough that he could see it under the hood. 

The man stiffened, but Janus didn’t give him time to beg for his life again. He didn’t think he’d manage to hold onto him at all if he did. He was cursed with a bleeding heart and if this man begged again he might just let him go and fuck all the consequences. 

“You’re going to stay quiet.” Janus commanded. “You’re going to come with me into the building, and you’re going to do everything I say.” 

The man nodded rapidly, his breathing getting fast and shallow. 

“I don’t want to bother keeping this gun pointed at you the whole time, but be assured I will always have it on hand.” 

The man nodded again. 

Janus tucked the gun into his waistband, wishing he’d had the forethought to bring a holster. Then he got out of the car. When he opened the back door, the man stayed silent, as he’d been told to. Janus undid the buckle and guided him into the house. 

He breathed slightly easier once he was inside the house with the door locked. 

Now what? 

He couldn’t just start in on work with curious eyes wandering around. 

It was nearly seven now. Maybe he’d make breakfast. 

He knew he was just continuing to push the real problem down the road, but he hadn’t come up with any answers. 

Janus left the man standing in the dining room and started looking through his fridge. He wanted something that would take a bit of time. Push that problem just a bit further before he reached a point where he had to deal with it. 

He finally pulled out some vegetables and started chopping them. He took his time slowly making complex omelets, only looking towards his captive when the man maneuvered his way to the floor to sit. 

Unfortunately, even after the long cooking, Janus didn’t have any better ideas. This was so far out of the realm of what he expected he’d never planned for it, never considered it before. 

He carried the plates into the dining room and set them at the table. He helped pull the man up so he could sit in a proper chair. Then he flipped back his hood. 

It was the first real look he’d gotten at the man’s face. Janus swallowed. His… very pretty face. If he wasn’t careful this would be Remy all over again, only worse because he’d already drug this man so deep into his mess he couldn’t see a way to get him out again. 

Janus’s second reaction was pity. The man was blinking in the brighter light, out from under the shade of his hood, and his face was tearstained and red, streaked with black eyeshadow. Janus also noticed a large bump near the back of his head. 

He gently probed it, concerned as the man winced, trying to duck away from his hand. This was recent. Remus hadn’t knocked him around any. It must have been in the commotion in the apartment. 

Janus went back to the kitchen. He got a cloth and dampened it, then also got an ice pack. 

“If I take off the tape, you will not attempt to attack me or run away,” Janus said. He’d found that in many cases, phrasing questions as statements and statements as questions tended to throw off the other person, and he got what he wanted more easily. 

The man nodded silently. Janus remembered that he’d told him to be quiet earlier. He moved behind the man, cutting at the tape with scissors. “You’re welcome to speak, so long as you aren’t loud.” 

“Thanks,” the man muttered. 

“Are you in pain?” Janus asked, considering whether this was a simple ice and ibuprofen type of situation, or whether he would need to attempt further first aid. 

The man shrugged, picking up the cloth and cleaning his face, then holding the ice pack to the bump on his head. 

Janus rolled his eyes at the non-response. “Would you object to taking painkillers?” 

That prompted a quiet, “No.” 

Janus retrieved the bottle, opening it in plain view so it could be seen he wasn’t switching the pills with anything. He got two cups of water, and then sat down to eat his own, rather cool by now, breakfast. 

“What’s gonna happen now?” The man asked, looking up at Janus. 

His gaze was piercing, possibly even more so because he didn’t intend it to be. Janus feigned nonchalance. 

“I’m not telling you. You’ll find out as it happens.” 

He could see a faint shudder run through the man. He didn’t have a better answer though, for him or for himself.

••^*^••

Remy had been thinking about Virgil ever since he left. He hoped it had gone well, getting picked up by his soulmate. 

It drew his mind to his own soulmates. At a young age they’d come to realize how dangerous it was to be three, and they tried to spare each other the danger. 

He didn’t know either of their names. Didn’t know where they lived. What they did for work. Nothing. He hadn’t even contacted them in several weeks. 

He wanted to. 

The desire built up over the remainder of his shift, and when he got home Remy caved to it. 

He scrawled in sharpie, high up on his thigh where it wouldn’t be easily noticed regardless of what he chose to wear, Heya. How’s it going?

Chapter Three

Virgil noticed the note on his thigh when he used the bathroom. It gave him an idea. A brief flutter of hope. 

His phone might have been taken from him, but if he could manage to contact his soulmates, maybe he could get help. 

He exited the bathroom, and immediately his captor’s gaze was on him, watching as Virgil returned to the couch. He didn’t seem to be unkind. He’d given Virgil food, and painkillers, and hadn’t hurt him. Was even letting him walk around this house without being tied up. 

And it was a house. Not like an abandoned warehouse or a back alley or any of the other scary locations Virgil had expected to end up in. He might… not die?

His captor was still incredibly intimidating though, and was keeping a close eye on Virgil. He didn’t know where to find a pen or a marker, and even if he did, he was sure he’d be discovered with whatever he wrote on his skin. 

But if he did something temporary maybe? 

Virgil tentatively laid down on the couch. His captor watched him do it, but then went back to reading through some paperwork of some kind. Virgil rolled over, facing the back of the couch. 

It made his skin crawl to have his back to the man, but he had a purpose for it. It gave him just a bit of cover, just enough hopefully. 

Virgil pushed his sleeve up. He was going to dare to do this on his arm. He knew his soulmates mostly wore clothes that covered skin, but if any part of them would catch their attention, forearm was a safe bet. 

Taking his thumbnail, Virgil pressed hard into his skin, dragging the nail to make a white line in his skin. The white quickly became an irritated red, but he knew from experience that the red would be gone in just a few minutes. He slowly made more lines on his skin, trying to keep his movements small so he wouldn’t be noticed. 

Help

••^*^••

Remy stared at the faint red lines on his forearm as they appeared. He’d noticed around the time the H was completed, while he was changing into pajamas to sleep the day away. His curiosity quickly turned to concern as the word finished. 

He grabbed a pen, scribbling onto his wrist. 

How? 

As he watched, waiting, the Help faded on his arm. Definitely not red pen. That… that definitely seemed worse. 

In response, he got a slow and scratchy-looking number. A phone number. 

Well. Remy could definitely call. 

The phone rung multiple times, eventually going to voicemail, unanswered. 

“Hey, this is Virgil. I missed you somehow, but just send a text or leave a message and I’ll try and get back to you later.” 

Remy frowned, confused and more than a little unbelieving. Virgil?? What did Virgil have to do with this?? With one of his soulmates? But it was definitely his voice. 

Virgil was supposed to be on a bus right about now, maybe even picked up already by his own soulmate. Maybe Virgil’s soulmate was nearby to Remy’s soulmate? This was all just so weird and confusing. 

Remy next tried texting. 

Hey, everything alright?

The response he got back alarmed him even more, though it didn’t remove any of his confusion. 

Hello. He’s at the hospital. Unconscious, but stable. He was in a car accident. I’m informing his family and work through his contacts, and then turning the phone off. He won’t be able to come in for a few days. 

Remy stared at the text for a long few minutes. So Virgil didn’t have his own phone. He’d never talk like that. And whoever did seemed to think that Remy was someone from his job? And he was in the hospital?!!

Remy wrote on his wrist, just under the how?

 ???

He didn’t have any better ideas of what to write. 

There was no response. Not for a while. 

Then finally. 

Help

Please

Remy started looking online to see if there were any way to track someone based on just a phone number. 

••^*^••

Janus didn’t know why he hadn’t considered that of course the man had a job. They’d both startled when the phone rang, and the man had cringed into the couch, rapidly throwing out any number of apologies for being called by his boss, as if Janus was going to fault him for that. 

Janus had figured out something to send back, and sent it to the top few contacts on the phone just in case before turning it completely off. 

What was he supposed to do now? 

Surely people would begin looking for the man sooner than later. And Janus could manage to whisk him into hiding, but that would be a lot of work. And… he wasn’t sure he could handle it, emotionally. The longer this went on, the worse he felt. 

He wasn’t cut out to be a kidnapper. Certainly not a kidnapper of a random handsome stranger. If he’d hated the man, perhaps he would be managing this better. 

An idea was beginning to form though. An idiotic idea. A stupid, horrible, terrible, dangerous idea. 

If he could get the man on his side, he wouldn’t need to hold him captive. On the other hand, if the man was absolutely against rights for people with multiple soulmates, well, it would be easier for Janus to hate him. 

On the dangerous side, if the man was smart and had an ounce of self-preservation, he’d go along with everything Janus said, at least verbally, and then go straight to the police as soon as he was released. 

The real question was if the danger of that outweighed the twisting in his gut every time he scared the man. Janus was way too fucking soft for this. He should’ve kept Remus here. 

Janus sighed. He was an over-emotional fool. 

••^*^••

Virgil was trying hard to stay calm. It wasn’t working. 

His soulmate had actually called. Really and truly. And then his captor had sent some kind of message in response and had turned his phone off. Virgil hoped he’d convinced him that it was just work calling cause he was late. But he hoped more that his soulmate could actually do something with the little information. 

Only one soulmate had responded to his desperate messages, but with such a short time on his skin, he wasn’t surprised that the other hadn’t noticed. 

His arm tingled unpleasantly, the skin irritated and tender. 

Suddenly, his captor let out a sigh. Virgil tensed as the man closed his folder and turned his attention entirely towards Virgil. 

Virgil carefully sat up. 

“I imagine you are aware that it is possible to have more than one soulmate,” his captor said. 

A tremor ran through Virgil. Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, he wasn’t kidnapped randomly cause he witnessed the deal. He was kidnapped for having two soulmates, this was So Much Worse! And he’d gone and asked one of his soulmates for help!! They’d be pulled into this! 

His captor’s lips pressed together. He continued speaking. “Having multiple soulmates is estimated to occur in 0.67% of people. Though many of those hide this fact, so the percentage may well be inaccurate.” 

Virgil hesitantly nodded. He had to try and stay on this man’s good side. 

“The reason it’s often a hidden fact is that society frowns heavily on those with multiple soulmates,” his captor said, emotion flickering over his face. An emotion Virgil never expected. Something like… grief? 

“Many people don’t know until they run into it that there are laws restricting actions by those with multiple soulmates, particularly if it can be proven that the individual has multiple.” 

Virgil actually didn’t know that. He’d heard rumors, but had always just tried to lay low himself. 

“Because of societal standards, it’s incredibly hard to change these laws… through normal avenues.” 

Virgil swallowed. This sounded an awful lot like telling him about illegal things. He’d be an accomplice. Maybe. He wasn’t entirely sure how that worked. But regardless, he’d never be allowed to live once he heard about illegal plans. 

He couldn’t deny his curiosity, but more than that he was scared. He covered his ears with his hands. 

“I-I don’t know why you’re telling me this!” Virgil blurted. “Look, good for you trying to help us, but don’t tell me illegal shit! The more you tell me the more I can tell police, and I’m not an idiot, I know you can’t just let that go. I don’t wanna end up dead, stop telling me things that’ll make me end up dead!” 

He finally managed to shut himself up. He’d never intended to say all that. He glanced up at his captor’s face, expecting a scowl, or even the gun pointed at him again. But instead there was a sort of pleased shock. 

“Us?” 

Virgil’s face drained of blood. “N-no, I didn’t mean that. I meant to say them. Them.” 

The man grinned. “You definitely said us.” 

“I didn’t!” Virgil protested. “Or I didn’t mean to!”

“You have multiple soulmates,” the man said, his grin widening. 

“I do not!” Virgil yelled, accidentally breaking the ‘be quiet’ rule. “I don’t! I-I-I’m normal! I’m not a—“ his voice cracked, and he swiped angrily at his eyes, which were leaking again. 

The man’s expression softened. “It’s alright,” he said gently. 

“It’s not!” Virgil argued. Why he was being an idiot and getting angry and upset and arguing when the man across from him had a gun he had no idea. But he couldn’t seem to help it. Feelings were rushing up from his chest, pouring out his throat. “It’s not ok! It’s never been ok! People always hate you for it and I can’t… I haven’t even met them!” 

He was crying. He swiped his sleeves over his face. 

“Why does everyone hate me for it? I didn’t even get to meet them. Everyone else gets to find their soulmate! Everyone else gets a happy ever after! Why do they fucking hate me so bad!?” 

At some point the other man had moved from his chair across from Virgil to sitting on the couch next to him. He took the hand Virgil was tugging at his hair with, loosening his grip on the strands. 

“I have multiple too,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, hard to hear over the harsh breaths stuttering out of Virgil’s mouth. 

“I didn’t even get to meet them,” Virgil repeated, the words coming out in a whimper. 

“You should’ve gotten to,” the man said. 

The words seemed to ring in Virgil’s mind, not quite sinking in, but refusing to leave. 

“You deserve to meet your soulmates,” the man said firmly. “You deserve to get to love them. To be near them. Just as much as anyone else.” 

Virgil stared at him, the validation cracking a dam he’d long held within him, emotion flooding out and overwhelming his already strained system. He lurched forward, clinging for comfort to a source he never would’ve considered. 

The man let him cling, even wrapped his own arms around Virgil, gently shushing him and telling him it would all be ok. 

Chapter Four

Janus wasn’t sure how this had happened. But he’d held the man while he cried, and now he had another damp cloth, wiping his face. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m like this. I guess I just haven’t slept and…” the man trailed off, hugging one of Janus’s throw pillows to his stomach. 

“Would you like me to take you home?” Janus asked. He hadn’t thought it through. But he didn’t regret it either. Regardless of what he chose to do next, this man didn’t deserve to be held captive and scared. 

The man’s face cycled from surprise back to teary. “I don’t have one anymore.” 

Janus pressed his lips together. Well, he had seen the man forcefully kicked out. 

“You’re welcome to stay if you like. As a guest. I won’t force you. Or if there’s somewhere you’d like me to take you?” 

The man’s face scrunched up, clearly caught between gratitude and suspicion. “Why would you do that?” 

Janus gave him a small smile and a shrug. “You’re like me. If I’m going to fight for us, how could I then hurt one of us?” 

“But—but I still saw your weird deal. A-and I can recognize you. I could tell the cops and— you definitely shouldn’t just let me go.” 

Janus’s smile became wry. “I’ll have to take the chance that you won’t.” 

The man just looked disbelieving. 

Janus set down his cloth. “I won’t ask that we start over. I’ve already done more than I expect to be forgiven for. But perhaps we could try introductions? My name is Janus.” 

Despite his disbelief, after a moment the man held out a hand. “Virgil.” 

Janus shook it gently. “I’m glad to make your acquaintance, Virgil. Would you honor me by being my guest? If you haven’t slept, there’s a bed you’re welcome to use.” 

Virgil rubbed his eyes with his sleeves. “It’s not fair to kidnap someone and then be all nice. Giving off real mixed signals.”

Janus couldn’t help chuckling. “I should not have kidnapped you. I’m truly sorry.” 

Virgil shrugged. “You had to. Someone saw you doing illegal shit. This is the weird part.” 

Janus kept chuckling, something traitorous in his chest doing little flips. “I’m well aware.”

Virgil blinked, slowly, and Janus could see as tiredness began beating his inhibitions. 

“I think… yeah. I might take you up on the bed. Would you…” The spark of fear returned to his eyes for a moment. “Would you put the gun somewhere? Out of reach.” 

Janus nodded solemnly. At some point, he would explain to Virgil that this particular gun was incapable of shooting, but this didn’t seem like the time. 

Janus stood, offering a hand to help Virgil up. Virgil didn’t take his hand, but did follow as Janus directed him to the bedroom. Janus left him alone and went back to work, but he was unable to get him out of his mind. 

••^*^••

Virgil curled up on the bed, feeling awkward about laying in someone else’s bedroom. The exhaustion was tugging at him far more than the awkwardness, however, and he was slowly relaxing. 

His mind was still full of swirling emotions, but fear had retreated to one of the smallest. The man- Janus, was definitely still doing illegal shit, but he was trying to help people with multiple soulmates. He may have kidnapped Virgil, but looking back, about the worst thing he actually did to him was to tie him up with tape and threaten him with a gun. 

Virgil frowned. Those were definitely bad things. So why was his brain trying to say they paled in comparison to what he’d said? Actions were definitely more telling than words. 

But those words. 

You deserve to meet your soulmates. 

You deserve to get to love them. To be near them.

They’d pierced somewhere deep within Virgil, letting light and air in, allowing him to want. And now he couldn’t stop himself from wanting. 

He felt he might owe Janus something deeper and more important than the kidnapping. 

And his mental image of Janus had shifted from the terrifying stranger in an odd hat, and now was all warm chest and soft words. And acceptance. 

They were alike. They both had multiple soulmates. Virgil had never met anyone else with multiple soulmates, at least not knowingly. Having his deepest secret not only known, but shared. It screwed up his self-protective instincts, already putting Janus as part of Us, when he should undeniably be a Them. 

Virgil’s brain flitted over the idea of helping Janus, and he tried desperately to cut off that possibility entirely. He was not about to get himself into criminal business just because a handsome man was just like him and trying to help and… oh fuck he was genuinely considering it. 

Virgil buried his face in the nearest pillow. This was idiotic. This was death wish levels of stupid. He should not be considering this!! He’d just been kidnapped by the man for fuck’s sake! 

••^*^••

It had been nearly an hour of Remy trying to figure out how to use a phone number to track a person. He’d stumbled across more information about Virgil than the anxious man would ever be comfortable knowing could be found on the internet, but no way of tracking where his phone was at the moment. 

And still the minutes kept trickling by. 

There were no new messages. Remy kept his sleeve rolled up, and checked it every few minutes just in case, but nothing. 

He was getting more and more concerned, both for his unknown soulmate, and for Virgil. 

He had one more option, either to help him, or to convince him that everything would be fine. Janus. 

Janus owed him anyway. 

And if he was in the cafe wanting an alibi the night before, he was almost sure to be holed up in his house ignoring all attempts to contact him. So Remy would have to go to him. 

That decided, Remy grabbed one of his emergency cold coffees from the fridge and got into his car. 

Janus’s house was maybe 20 minutes away. Remy kept his sleeve pulled high, glancing away from the road on occasion in case of further messages. 

He unlocks Janus’s door without bothering to knock first. 

“Jay! Gotta problem here.” 

Janus comes quickly around the corner, concern and alarm plain on his face. “What happened? Are you alright?” 

Remy gestures to his arm. “I am, but apparently my soulmate isn’t, and it’s got some weird crazy thing to do with my friend Virgil, and you’d better have some cool illegal way to track a bitch, cause I am not used to being a worrier and I hate it!”

Janus blinked several times at the barrage of words. Remy cursed at his slow uptake. “Come on, Jay! Open your little bag of tricks and help me out here.” 

“Virgil?” Janus asked, apparently painfully slow today. 

Remy groaned loudly. “Yes. I’ve told you about him before. And apparently I’ve got a soulmate near him, cause I was sent his number and a message for help.” 

Janus takes his hand, frowning down at his arm, bare of everything other than what he’d written himself. 

There’s the sound of a door from further in the house, and Remy has only a moment to wonder who Janus has over when a very familiar figure comes around the corner. 

“Remy?” Virgil asks, and then when he sees him, “Remy!” 

Virgil unexpectedly runs forward and grips Remy around the waist. They hadn’t really… hugged before. So it’s strange, but Remy’s concern being suddenly relieved at seeing Virgil unhurt outweighs that. He wraps a protective arm around Virgil. 

“Oh hell, nah. There’s some major explaining to do.” Seeing Janus looking guilty, Remy jabs a finger at him, sloshing the remainder of his drink inside the cup. “You. Talk. Now.”

Janus abruptly looks even more guilty. 

Virgil suddenly gasped, grabbing at Remy’s arm and staring. Before Remy can explain about his soulmate’s messages, Virgil is shoving his own sleeve up, holding it close to compare. 

Remy stared with wide eyes. It was Virgil. Virgil was his soulmate. One of them, anyway. 

“Oh, you lied to me,” he breathed out, not genuinely upset. He understood lying about multiple soulmates. He’d done the same himself many times. 

Suddenly, several things clicked together in his head, and he rounded on Janus. “What the hell did you do?!” 

Janus raised both hands. “There’s a whole story to it, Rem—“

Remy stepped forward, backing Janus against a wall, using his extra few inches to loom over him. “Better start telling then.”

“I’m fine… now,” Virgil said, sounding almost defensive of Janus. 

Remy’s eyebrows shot up. There was some Tea here. And he was Going to be told All of it. 

After a full explanation, Remy stood above Janus, his arms crossed. Janus looked supremely guilty, as he Was. 

Remy grabbed his arm, shoving the sleeve up. As he now expected, his scrawl was on Janus’s wrist as well. 

“I told you we should check if we were soulmates!” He exclaimed. 

Janus just stared with wide eyes, awe taking over his expression. He reached out softly to Virgil, comparing his arm to his as well. 

Virgil was just looking back and forth between the two of them with shock and wonder. 

“Alright babes,” Remy said authoritatively. “This is how it’s gonna go. You,” he pointed at Janus. “Are going to pull out your first aid kit and we’ll check Virgil over for any hurt he got from that asshole he used to call a roommate. Then you’re going to give us your bedroom for a nap, and treat us both to a good lunch when we wake up from a nap. After that, and only after, will we start to consider forgiving you.” 

Janus grimaced, but to his credit, he knew when it wasn’t the time to argue. 

“You,” he turned on Virgil. “Are going to show us everywhere that hurts. Once I’m convinced that you’re properly ok, then it’s nap time. I’ll let you make your own decisions on Janus after. As far as I’m concerned, he’s sleeping on the couch tonight and owes me about a hundred coffees.” 

Janus was starting to look genuinely dejected, and Remy grabbed his collar, pulling him in for a deep kiss. 

“Tonight we talk about being soulmates,” he said more gently. “And how we want to play that.” 

Virgil grabbed Remy’s hand in one of his, and Janus’s with the other. His eyes were shining. He didn’t say anything, but he squeezed both their hands tightly. 

Well! Discovering two of his favorite people were his soulmates. Not a bad day. 

Chapter Five

~one month later~ 

Virgil read the paper carefully, studying each word at a time. He highlighted a line before passing it to Janus. 

“This bit reads oddly.” 

Janus looked at it, and his nose wrinkled. “That bit was original.” 

Virgil scrunched his face up. “That’s been in the law?” 

Janus shrugged, the look of disgust on his face apparent. “There’s a reason I’m changing it.” 

Now that he was a full part of Janus’s operation, Virgil had been told everything. Janus was slowly taking laws and regulations, tweaking them subtly, and getting a man on the inside to swap them with the originals. That man, Patton, was married to Remus’s brother, and they had another partner named Logan who was not yet let in on illegal activity. 

Change was slow. Incremental. It had to be. It couldn’t be noticed, or everything would be ruined. 

But a law here tweaked to be more lenient, a regulation loosened there, and society gradually became less hostile to people with multiple soulmates. Slowly. 

Virgil reached over, wrapping his fingers over Janus’s. Janus smiled at him softly, and raised his hand to his lips. Virgil watched as a small flower bloomed to existence on his knuckle, drawn by Remy. 

He flushed slightly. He still wasn’t ready for the full kisses that Janus and Remy often shared, but he was certain that smaller affections like this filled his heart just as full. 

Janus released his hand, going back to his work. Virgil took the paper back, continuing his own proofreading of the draft. 

••^*^••

Remy often found himself drawing on his skin now. Drawings couldn’t be so easily pointed to different hands, and thus were safe to revel in. Flowers over his knuckles, hearts over his hands, larger more detailed designs covering his arms and legs. 

His night shifts at the cafe were never quite so dull anymore, knowing he could send a bit of art to one of his loves. And many times, one of them would show up. With Virgil, it was often for coffee and long talks, like they had before but deeper, more tender. Janus still wanted an alibi half the time he stopped by, but now there were visits where he’d come to make out if the cafe was empty. 

When his shift was over he’d head back home. Virgil was coming over in the morning. He often split his time between Remy and Janus’s houses, almost like they had a custody agreement over him. 

It was difficult for Remy sometimes, adjusting to a partner who wanted to take things real slow. But Virgil’s softness and cute grumpiness was uniquely special to him, and he looked forward to the day he’d get to kiss him silly. 

Despite the rough time that brought them to realize they were soulmates, none of them truly regretted it, though Janus still apologized if one of them brought up the kidnapping. 

••^*^••

Janus had never felt so fulfilled. 

He’d always believed strongly in the cause, knowing he was a member of the minority he fought for. But it was different somehow, having his soulmates with him. 

Remy and Virgil were so similar and yet so different. Both would snark and snipe, especially as Virgil got more comfortable around him. But Virgil had a softness to him where Remy had passion. Remy had initiative where Virgil had caution. Virgil had gentleness where Remy had strength. Both so unique. Both so precious. Both somehow his. And he theirs. 

He was reaping the very reward he wished to give to everyone with multiple soulmates. And it was sweet. 

Janus subtly shifted position, careful not to wake either of his partners. They’d spent a late night and were now napping, leaving him the most lucky with getting to experience them laying on either side of him. 

They’d started with ‘trapping’ him, each laying over one of his arms to prevent him from working, but it had quickly shifted into soft cuddles as they fell asleep. And despite his earlier protests, he didn’t truly mind in the slightest. 

He wanted to buy a larger house, or at least a larger bed, as this one only barely contained them if none of them tried to roll over. He didn’t make much money, certainly not legally. So it was a rather futile dream, about as futile as his dream to one day marry them. But a man could dream. 

Tagging @snowdice Since I used your Roll the Dice game to start this fic! 🥰

[stuckinapril]

I genuinely love not having a crush like I’m not over here feeling physically sick over some mid guy being dry to me I’m literally chilling

[sacchiri]

Hellsing 2002 calendar illustration.

Ein wunderliche und erschröckliche Hystori von einem großen Wüttrich genant Dracole wayda Der do so ganz unkristenliche marrter hat angelegt die mensche, als mit spissen als auch die leut zu Tod geslyffen

A wondrous and frightening story about a great berserk called Dracula the voivode who inflicted such unchristian tortures such as with stakes and also dragged people to death

[tiktowafel]

do you ever think about how all you used to draw when you were 10 was ponies and that you should still know how to do that, then get an idea and proceed to draw something like these in nearly one sitting and it turns out better than any drawing you've done in the entire past month

sooo anyway does anyone have cutie mark or pony name ideas for them?? lol

[quaranmine]

On Wednesday before I gave my presentation I confessed to a new employee that I was worried it would be too long and she brightly told me her life hack was to just let AI rewrite things for her. She said I should put in all my talking points and ask ChatGPT to give me a five minute exactly presentation. I was like....how is the most polite possible way (since this is a new colleague I shouldn't get off on the wrong foot with) that I can express that I will Not be taking this advice. Ever. I told her that I didn't think we were allowed to use ChatGPT at this job (we most certainly are not, it is a nightmare for any type of protected information) and also that I prefer to write all of my own work. Despite my best efforts the last part of that was still passive aggressive, lol.

Something about being a writer makes it so that it's almost offensive to me for someone to suggest I use AI to do my work instead? Like, the day I reach the point where I let AI write something for me is the day y'all need to be checking me for brain damage because clearly I'm losing it

[yuus-sentient-teddy]

"You've been staring at me for a while. What are you thinking?" Chaco turns the rest of his body so that he's now sitting fully facing you.

"I don't trust you," you declare simply. That was you, wasn't it? Not one to beat around the bush and carrying yourself like a school teacher, all proper and head held high. But there was a whimsical air around you that anyone who spent plenty of time with you would notice, and he has spent plenty. Put simply, you were like a character from a dramatic comedy. The seeming straight, no-nonesense friend with a soft and caring heart.

He quirks a brow and leans forward. "Oh? Why is that?"

"You smile too much," you say, folding your hands on the table and also leaning forward. "And your smiles are too perfect. I'm willing to bet that you're hiding something. No one can smile always perfectly."

"But what if that's how I am? Besides, there's always something to smile about. Like our lord."

Unwillingly, your lips pull up into a smile. "Can't argue with that," you concede. "But then, what else are you thinking that makes you smile?"

"Have you always been this curious about me? Can't get me out of your thoughts?" he teases.

"Yes. You're very interesting." Another simple declaration from you, the whimsical, no-beating-around-the-bush you. You even bob your head in a nod!

The almost deadpan delivery makes him want to laugh, but at the same time, he feels his cheeks start to warm. So, to hide the fluster, he lets out that laugh and rests his chin in his palm. "You know, I could say the same for you too. You're not like most of the other skaters here. If anything, you and Tuxedo Sam's Fragaria might get along."

"No offense to him, but no thanks."

That makes him laugh, much harder than before. He actually turns his body so he could double over, which causes him to miss your satisfied smile and small giggle. Once he's done laughing, he says, "The others are going to love hearing that. Say, did you know you can get a special type of ice cream down the street?"

"I knew it! This is banana ice cream!"

Chaco just smiles as he bites into his spoonful.

"You said there was a special type of ice cream sold here, but this flavor is common," you say.

"Take another bite," he says.

You narrow your eyes and stare at him for a second too long before taking another bite. Your eyes then widen. "Oh! There's a frozen banana slice in here."

"And that's what makes this ice cream special. The other parlors in the area don't have this trait, see?"

You mull it over, taking another bite of ice cream, and nod. "Mmyeah."

And that's how things are between the two of you. Whenever he suggests something, you would take his word for it. Of course, it was not without staring at him for a second too long, as though you could parse the truth out of him by searching his grey eyes. Despite "tricking" you many times (always harmless tricks, mind you), you never backed down.

That brings us to now: the two of you sitting on swing sets staring at the dawning sky, after Chaco said he knew of a quiet place with a great view of the sunrise.

"A while ago, you said you didn't trust me," he says. "Do you still not trust me?"

"Yes."

The way the answer is delivered so whimsically serious makes his smile genuine. "But you still hang out with me. Shouldn't you be more wary?"

"Yes, but if I'm too wary, I wouldn't be able to get to the bottom of what exactly is making you untrustworthy."

How paradoxical, he thinks. Not to mention, it was dangerous of you explain your plan so plainly to the very person you wanted to know more of.

The strangeness of you was so amusing just as it made you so endearing.

"So far, I've figured out that you like pulling friendly and clever pranks, and that you're not entirely untrustworthy. As a Fragaria, you would have the want to protect your lord and the kingdom, but even if you weren't, I can't see you as someone who enjoys hurting people. Whenever we hang out, nothing malicious happens."

"But what if the next thing we do does hurt you?"

"You wouldn't want it to happen and you wouldn't let it. That's not you. Besides, I'd be disappointed. I look forward to whatever silly surprise you have for me."

Chaco considers this. "So you hang out with me because you look forward to that?"

"That's half of it. The other half is that it's just very nice hanging out with you, even if we don't do anything exciting." You pause for a moment to admire the changing hue of the sky. "Like now."

The sun is now beginning to peek over the trees. Chaco immediately thinks of how perfect you look smiling under the golden light.

He likes gullible people, but you are a very special and very interesting exception.