#its beyond being pretty or tall or hot or whatever

[maximura]

[theharrowing]

Devil with the Mint Hair 🍃 3: Pretty good

His pull out game is strong but your hatred for him is stronger.

🍃 Yoongi x Female Reader

🍃 word count: 7.7k

🍃 enemies to fuck buddies, brother’s best friend, explicit smut, nsfw, 18+

🍃 warnings: alcohol consumption (mc is tipsy); talk of hiring sex workers; mention of masturbation with sex toys; mention of Yoongi fucking Jimin; use of "baby girl" & "submissive little fuck doll"; mc is a brat; dirty talk and filthy smut (safe word establishment; mc does not get undressed; hair gripping - no description of hair style or length; being handled roughly - pushed around, gripped by head and throat; face slapping; rough, messy blow job & face fucking; a lot of drool; spitting; rough sex; pussy slapping; cunnilingus, fingering, & ass eating; multiple orgasms; overstimulation); they do not kiss once; post-nut regret; possibly catching a feeling??? (lol, as if.)

🍃 note: this scene takes place in America and there is a brief interaction with a bartender but i didn't specify what language anyone is speaking or where these characters live because it seems very unimportant for a fic like this lol. i know nobody is here for the scraps of plot.

🍃 beta read by @neoneunnajimin​

🍃 posted oct. 2023 | read on ao3

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The summer sun is hot and oppressive, and you sit under the awning of a poolside bar, hair dripping from taking a swim with a towel around your hips. You wait impatiently for the bartender to return with a blended margarita – desperate for the inevitable brain freeze if it means you get to cool down. 

Why your brother chose to celebrate his September birthday in Las Vegas, of all places, is beyond you, and you try your hardest not to melt against the high bar chair and its tiny little wooden seat back. You only agreed to come because he is your brother and you would never miss his birthday for the world. 

And you assumed that he and the guys would be so busy gambling and going to strip clubs – and whatever else men in their twenties do – that you would not get stuck running into a certain someone too much, despite foolishly agreeing to meet up, should the possibility arise. And you were right, for the most part. 

Night one consisted of dinner and drinks, and then the guys went off to various casinos on the strip to test their luck. You meandered through your hotel's casino, cradling a drink while taking in all the sights and sounds, ultimately becoming both underwhelmed and overwhelmed, and retiring to your room to sink into the jacuzzi tub. 

The following day, the guys slept in late while you went to breakfast, and then you joined them for some day drinking and a walk along the strip. And although your sworn enemy did make an appearance each time, with your brother around he barely acknowledged your presence – something that you have found to be both a relief and somewhat infuriating. He has also been preoccupied with a pretty boy with bright orange hair named Jimin, and you find yourself wondering, whenever you see him, whether he is the hookup your enemy mentioned to you over text. 

Not that you want that devil to acknowledge you, nor do you want to care about who he fucks – after the stunt he pulled the last time you saw him, you find it impossible to look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds. But it still feels strange to be ignored by someone who made you cum so hard – a thought that makes you cringe.

You surmise that the guys had a long night at the strip club because it is almost noon and you have not heard from your brother. Today has been set aside as a sleep-in-and-recharge day, anyway, so you have no plans until dinner, which is how you came to be at the large outdoor pool, perched at the bar without the expectation of running into anyone. Perhaps you should have rethought your plan and gone to someone else's expansive outdoor pool, but now is not the time for weighing the could-have-beens.

Once the bright blue drink in a tall, curvy glass is set before you, you sit high in your seat, smiling as you take hold of the chilled glass and wrap your lips around the neon pink straw. You suck in the ice-cold concoction that sends a shiver down your spine with a flavor that you can only describe as boozy blue.

"God, that's good," you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes back with joy and lolling your head as a frigid rush works its way through your body, aided by your damp bathing suit. 

"Damn," a familiar voice rasps from behind, making you jump, "what do they put in those things?"

You don't need to turn to see that Yoongi has sat to your right, but you do, quickly taking in his naked torso and black swim shorts before turning your attention back to your drink, putting the straw between your lips and noting that he is dressed to swim but still dry. As much as you try to ignore his presence, you can feel Yoongi's eyes on you, and you do your best to ignore the way your skin has broken into goosebumps and your face warms. You do not like him, and you hate how your body responds to his presence.

Yoongi drawls a petulant, "Wow, not even gonna say hi to me, huh?" 

You roll your eyes, take a deep, chilling sip of blue, and turn your attention toward him, doing your best to appear wholly inconvenienced. Then, with wide, incredulous eyes and a fake smile, you say, "Hi, Yoongi," as sarcastically as possible. 

Yoongi snickers, then opens his mouth to retaliate, but the bartender returns and asks if he would like something, forcing his attention away as he points to your drink and says, "I'll have whatever that is."

The bartender cheerily says, "Blue raspberry margarita, coming right up!" and walks off. 

Yoongi turns his attention back to you to mutter, "Sounds mildly horrifying. Can't wait," with a grin.

Feeling annoyed and disinterested in whatever this man is playing at, you blurt, "Why are you here, Yoongi?"

"My best friend's birthday," Yoongi responds, running a hand through his short mint-green hair and sounding bored. "Why else?"

You sigh and roll your eyes, then focus on stabbing the pink straw into your blue drink. "I mean here, sitting next to me. There are other bars out here and hundreds more along the strip. Shouldn’t you be preoccupied by that orange-haired guy who clings to you, instead?”

When Yoongi asks, "Why wouldn't I want to be here, sitting next to you?” his voice is much lower and much closer than you expect, and you flinch, turning your sights back to him. 

Yoongi leans on the bar top, elbow only inches away, and his gaze is piercing. Only a small floral bikini top covers your upper half, and your leg sticks out from the slit in your towel enough that when Yoongi's gaze roves slowly and hungrily over your body, you feel exposed. Anxiety crashes through you, but so does arousal, and you clear your throat and take another frozen sip. 

“And anyway,” Yoongi continues the moment you turn away, “Jimin is still asleep, and likely will be for several more hours.”

The bartender returns and sets Yoongi's drink before him, and you watch from the corner of your eye as his nimble, long fingers delicately cradle the glass and slide it toward himself. He sits forward, takes a sip, and then grumbles out something unintelligible under the sound of your pounding heart. 

"Hmm?" you ask, turning your attention to him. 

"Not as orgasmic as you made it seem, but not too bad."

With another roll of your eyes, you mutter, "You are so annoying."

Truth be told, sitting out here with Yoongi is not as bad as you would have thought. Perhaps it is because he is holding back from leaning too far into your personal space and wearing you down – likely because the two of you are surrounded by others and there is a slight chance that your brother or one of the other guys could come find the two of you. Or, perhaps the dry Vegas heat is making you too worn out both physically and emotionally to care. 

Yoongi hums, and you turn your attention toward him without fully looking at him, continuing to suck at your melting drink. One thing you will give Vegas credit for is even these shitty slushies are potent enough that you are already feeling a little tipsy. 

"You seem calm today," Yoongi muses. "Did you also bring back an escort last night? Get the stress fucked out of you?"

Everything Yoongi says hits you like several small trucks, and you open and close your mouth, attempting to begin several sentences but feeling at a loss for which detail to hone in on. Finally, you settle on the most obvious bit and ask, "Escort? What?"

Yoongi laughs and it sounds almost mocking and sardonic, so you look at him, finding him chewing on his bright yellow straw with a lopsided smile. "Why do you think the guys are so worn out? I've been keeping them busy."

"You've…what?" 

Another laugh, but this one comes from the guts, deep and amused. "What? We're in Vegas, baby girl! Gotta make sure to give the guys the full experience."

"You're lying," you mutter, straw wedged between your teeth, doing your best not to respond to the sound of him calling you baby girl out loud. 

Has Yoongi really been hiring sex workers to stay with the guys? All the while you've been using a vibrator and feeling too small in your gigantic suite. You have nothing against the notion of sex work, but knowing that your brother…a violent shudder runs through you as you attempt to shut out the thought.

"Ha, come on, do you really think I would lie about something like this? We found a fun little club not too far from here and the guys took a liking to some of the dancers. Once we found out the girls can be rented for the night, that was that."

"Wow," is all you can mutter, because what else do you add? Must be nice? Thanks for the invite? Nothing feels appropriate. And anyway, what if Yoongi is lying?

"And what's the name of your favorite girl?" you ask, attempting to play it cool, taking another deep sip of blue before turning your eyes to Yoongi, whose gaze is firm.

The way he regards you is unyielding and you squirm in your seat, finding it hard to hold eye contact. Somehow this is the most civil conversation you have ever had with Yoongi in person, and you find yourself nearly charmed by his presence. That is, until you recall how he showed up at your door knowing full well that your brother was not home so he could smoke you out and pressure you into rough sex on your bedroom floor, of all fucking places. 

And you almost break the spell and let your anger rise, feeling the sudden urge to chug back your drink and get the fuck away from this demon. But you cannot deny the way he made you feel, and you would be lying if you said you would not want to feel it again, especially after agreeing to hook up if the opportunity presented itself. It seems as if it has, in fact, done just that.

Although you are at war with your thoughts and not fully set on running off, you do slurp more than half of the remnants of your drink, which goes down easy now that it has more or less melted into a boozy syrup. 

"Well?" you challenge, curious what kinds of escorts Yoongi has been bringing back to his room. You wonder if they like it just as rough as you do. 

Yoongi tongues the inside of his mouth, then chuckles. "Nah, I haven't been partaking. Only supplying."

At this, you roll your eyes, once more. Why is Yoongi suddenly acting like a prude? "Sure, okay," you say incredulously. 

"I'm serious!" Yoongi insists, making you laugh more. 

"There's nothing wrong with hiring sex workers, Yoongi," you say with raised eyebrows, almost defensively.

"I fucking know that," he bites back, "I'm the one hiring them!"

"Okay, then—"

"Why would I need to hire someone? You're right down the hall."

Now you know he is fucking with you, and you hate to admit it, but it makes you annoyed – a little upset, even. If Yoongi has been preoccupying the guys, why hasn’t he shown up at your door? He must be messing with you. 

"Shut the fuck up," you grit with your straw between your teeth before sucking the rest of your drink back. The straw gurgles loudly against the bottom of the glass as you angrily seek every last drop of tequila and blue. 

"I'm serious," Yoongi responds, close. 

When you regard him, he looks serious, but you are certain that he must be toying with you, and you begin to slide from the tall chair to the ground, stretching your toes to meet the rough gunite while your shifting weight makes the chair scrape loudly backward. 

There is laughter in Yoongi's voice when he asks, "Wait, where are you going?"

You sigh and stare at Yoongi's half-empty drink rather than at himself, contemplating how much you even want to reveal. You do not have feelings for him, for one thing, but you are also not sure whether he has just been messing with you and lying about wanting to hook up again. It almost feels like you are the butt of some joke.

"I'm not going to sit here and be made fun of," you say, pointedly not meeting his gaze before you turn to walk back into the hotel. 

"Wait," Yoongi says, and before you have a chance to register the word, his hand is on your arm, tugging you back. "There has definitely been a misunderstanding."

You are surprised to find that Yoongi is standing, and now that you are on your feet, the alcohol hits you at once, spinning you somewhat off your axis as you twist out of Yoongi's hold and frown at his eager expression. You stumble slightly back on flip-flopped feet and straighten out, giving him your best glare.

"Look, I'm not interested in your games, okay? I know you enjoy being an asshole for fun, so cut the shit, Yoongi."

Yoongi actually looks a bit upset before he schools his features and scoffs, taking a step back and reaching for his drink. He shrugs, then mutters, "Fine, be a fucking brat."

The whiplash is astounding, and you stand your ground while trying to figure out just what the fuck is going on. Yoongi sucks his cheeks in to finish the last of his tequila syrup, then he walks past you with an air of nonchalance that makes you turn on your toes and follow him in a huff. You were going to have the last word; who does he think he is?

As the two of you approach the open door of the hotel, Yoongi turns to glance over his shoulder and scoffs. "What? Tagging along so you can bitch at me in the elevator?"

"Oh, fuck off," you respond louder than necessary now that the two of you are in the crowded carpeted hallway and the raucous sounds of the pool are quieted behind concrete and glass. "I'm going back to my room."

"Sure you don't want to come back to mine?" Yoongi asks over his shoulder as you round a corner into a nearly empty hallway, walking deeper into the hotel. 

"What?" you all but shout.

"Oh, come on," he laughs, turning to walk backward just long enough to say, "I saw how jealous you got over the prospect of me fucking someone else, despite knowing full well that I do fuck someone else regularly. Regardless, the guys are all asleep, which means an opportunity has presented itself."

"I was not—" you begin as his gaze rakes down your body, and he turns back around.

"Admit it," Yoongi drawls, taking a corner to the left into a small elevator lobby with eight gold doors. He presses a call button, then turns to fully face you. "You can't get me out of your head, can you? I've been watching you sneak glances all weekend, baby girl; you're a terrible actor."

How can one man be so exasperating? As you wait for one of the elevators to get close, you stare up at the lights above the nearest one, hoping that by some chance two of them open so that you are not stuck in a compact square carriage with him. 

But as one of the elevators behind you dings, and not a single person joins you inside, you realize all too soon that you are trapped with him, and only him. Yoongi steps in first and holds his hand in front of the door to keep it from closing, and you slide into the small space and step into the furthest corner from him, staring at the gold doors as they close, then watching in the peripheral as Yoongi hits the number 32 – the floor you both stay on. 

"So?" Yoongi drawls, causing your entire body to break out in goosebumps – though you reason it is likely from your bathing suit still being damp and has nothing to do with that demon's deep, inviting voice. 

"So, what?" you bite back, staring up at the little screen above the button panel that flashes with which floor it passes. 

"You gonna come to my room and let us both have what we want, or what? Nice and rough, just like you asked for.”

With a scoff, you cross your arms over your chest, attempting to find warmth and to cover how hard your nipples are under your bathing suit top. Yoongi steps closer, and in this enclosed space, you can smell hints of musk and cologne, and maybe something sweet, like a lingering trace of shampoo or a body wash. 

"Or maybe we should go to yours," he suggests, deep and quiet. "Your room is further from the others…don't need any of them hearing you screaming my name while I tame the brat out of you."

"You are insufferable," you grit under your breath, though your words do not sound as firm as you would like. 

Yoongi hums and steps impossibly closer, then says, "I know you can't stop thinking about me, baby girl. Just give in."

As soon as the elevator dings and the gold doors slide open, he side steps far away from you, giving you space to exit and begin the hurried trek toward your room. From the elevator lobby, yours is to the left and down a little, whereas the group of rooms the guys are staying in are just off to the right. If you did let Yoongi fuck you – which you are not – doing so in your room would be the wiser of the two choices.

You round the corner to the left and walk quickly down to your door. To your chagrin, Yoongi's flip flops smack behind you, and you sigh and let your head droop back, feeling too tipsy and maybe a little too horny to be allowing him to come to your room. You reach your door and fish your key from where it's wedged between your towel and hip, then turn and scowl, looking over Yoongi's shoulder to make sure nobody else is in the hallway to see the two of you together. 

"Go back to your room, Yoongi," you say. Your heart pounds the closer he gets, and you do your best to keep your eyes on his face, but he is shirtless and he looks really good with his lean but defined muscles on display. 

"Is that really what you want?" he asks, stopping a foot away and leaning into the wall. 

"Yes!" you whisper-yell, insistent. You glance over his shoulder once more, then say, "The last thing I want is to get caught with you."

Yoongi's face brightens and you know in an instant that you have fucked up. "Oh, so you do want me to fuck your brains out, but you're worried about getting caught?"

"That's not—"

Yoongi raises an eyebrow and does not wait for you to finish your sentence, drawling, "I think it is. You already said as much over text."

Although your hand is lifted halfway to the key scanner, it is too far for it to detect the key and allow you entrance. You raise your eyebrows and use the hand holding the key to wave him off, muttering, "Shoo! Get the fuck out of here. I don't want to be seen with you."

Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek, grabs your hand, and forces you to hold the key against the scanner, then reaches with his other hand to open the door and shove the two of you inside. Everything happens in a flash, and you barely have a chance to get your bearings, muttering, "Yoongi, what the f—" as you are ushered into the entrance of your hotel room and Yoongi is closing the door behind the two of you. 

"Nobody can see us in here," Yoongi says as he steps out of his sandals and walks into your room, adding, "problem solved," over his shoulder. 

Your hotel room is fairly tidy, with only a few small sprawling piles of clothing and beauty products here and there. But you definitely left a dildo and vibrator lying tangled in the sheets of the bed from toying yourself last night, and you kick out of your sandals and scurry over to the bed, hoping to get to them before Yoongi sees them, finding him holding the small purple bullet vibrator between his fingers. 

"Naughty girl," Yoongi teases when you come into view, and you can hear him clicking on the power button multiple times to make the buzzing louder and stronger. 

"Put that down," you insist, closing the space between the two of you and reaching for it. 

"Let me use this on you," Yoongi mutters, dropping his arm down and brushing the vibrating toy over your thigh, right in the slit of the towel. 

"Yoongi!" you yelp, hopping backward and reaching for his arm, but Yoongi just grins and holds the toy behind his back, flexing his arm as you attempt to yank on it. 

"Please," Yoongi asks softly, flashing a lopsided smile, and you shove at his chest and walk away, determined to put space between the two of you. 

Given how fast Yoongi can make you cum, the prospect of him fucking you while using your toy does excite you, but it also worries you. This man would turn you into a pile of mush in no time. Luckily, he turns the toy off and tosses it back onto your bed, toward the pillows. 

“We need to establish boundaries,” you say, walking over to a long mirror near the front entrance of the room to check your reflection. Although you appear tired from a combination of tipsiness, heat, and genuine exhaustion, you look good enough to let this demon perceive you. 

When you turn back to Yoongi, he is sitting on the corner of your bed, arms relaxed at his sides, waiting for you to continue. 

“Things like hitting, spitting, and hair-pulling are fine, but I get to tell you to stop if it becomes too much.”

“We’ll establish a safe word,” Yoongi says. 

A thrill rushes over you as you consider what your safe word could be, and you formulate an idea, unable to hold back from grinning. Yoongi must take notice because he sits higher, raising his eyebrows curiously. 

“The guy with the orange hair,” you say, approaching Yoongi, whose eyes widen as you speak, “is he your regular hookup?”

Yoongi smiles sharply, then nods his head slightly as he says, “He is.”

“And he knows you plan to fuck me? Or are you doing it behind his back?”

Yoongi’s smile turns wide and playful. “He knows.”

“Hmm,” you respond, stepping close enough that he could reach out and touch you. “My safe word is Jimin.”

Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek then sits back, placing his palms against the white comforter on the bed. “Really?” 

You chuckle as you nod and say, “Yup.”

“You’re going to scream Jimin’s name if you want me to slow down or stop?”

“Correct.”

Yoongi laughs, clearly amused, then he nods and says, “Alright. Works for me. Any other boundaries? Things you’re not into?”

Truthfully, at this moment, there is nothing you can think of. So you shrug and say, “Nothing as of now…but I’ll tell you if that changes.”

“You’ll moan my hookup’s name if you change your mind,” Yoongi mutters with a smirk. 

“Yup.”

Yoongi rolls his shoulders and then sits up straight before slowly beginning to stand. You take a step back, feeling nervousness sink in over the fact that this is really happening, especially with the way Yoongi stands tall with his shoulders square and his expression flat. 

“Repeat your safe word for me,” Yoongi commands. 

“Jimin,” you respond, much softer than intended. 

The corner of Yoongi’s mouth rises for a split second, then he squints as if he is disgusted by what he sees. Instinctively, you take another step back. 

Yoongi is quick as a serpent, hand snapping up to grip onto your jaw and make you gasp – startling you. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks in a sharp snarl. 

Although you move your lips, all you are able to mutter is vowels, unsure what to say. 

“You’re mine, baby girl. You don’t so much as move unless I command it.”

Although you are aware that your safe word negates his statement, your heart thrums heavily behind your ribs at the idea of being at Yoongi’s mercy. You told him you wanted it rough – wanted it to hurt – and now that you stand before him, trepidation sinks deep. 

Yoongi continues to grip firmly to your chin while his free hand rips the towel from around your hips and chucks it to the side, making you gasp and flinch. The bikini you wear is small and still a bit damp, and you shiver as the air hits your bare thighs and tummy. Your breaths are heavy, causing a quick rise and fall of your chest, and you already feel a bit dazed from being handled his way. 

“Look at you,” Yoongi growls with a sharp, hungry gaze, lips upturned. “You can talk all the shit you want about how much you hate me, but I can see the way you want me, baby girl."

His grasp on your jaw is firm, and when he begins to pull his arm back, toward the bed, you step with him, moving slowly as his body rotates. Yoongi smirks razor-sharp, eyes burning with excitement, and you hate how absolutely right he is. You want him real bad. 

"Wanna choke on my cock while sitting on the bed, or down on your knees?" Yoongi asks, leaning nice and close, wafting warm, sugar-sweet breath into your face. 

"On the bed," you mutter, voice hoarse and weak. 

Yoongi grips your jaw ever so slightly, then pushes you down into the bed, causing you to gasp and scramble as you keep from sliding off the edge, hands gripping onto the white comforter. 

"Not eager to get back onto the floor with me?" he chides, but all you can do is stare upward as he looms over you, fingers working the velcro fly of his black swim shorts. 

Yoongi wastes no time pushing his shorts to the floor, revealing a half-hard and inviting cock. Last time, you hardly got a good look at him, but this time it is all you see as Yoongi grips onto the back of your hair and yanks you forward, practically shoving himself against your lips. 

"Don't be shy, baby girl," Yoongi groans, using his other hand to gently squeeze your throat. You look up at Yoongi without tilting your head, greeted by a dark stare that gives you chills as he adds, "Let's see what that pretty, bratty fucking mouth of yours can do."

With a deep, fortifying breath, you sit high on the bed, hands still gripping the comforter, and you run your tongue over the shaft, just below his cockhead. His skin is smooth with a faint soapy smell, and you let your eyes flutter as your lips close over the head, wetting the skin. 

"We don't have all fucking day," Yoongi practically growls as he presses your head close to his pelvis. 

With a snarl, you glance up through your lashes, saying, "We quite literally do have all day," lips still pressed against him. In a show of brattiness, you add, "So do you want it, or are you going to keep being an asshole?"

Yoongi releases the hand on your hair and slaps you against the cheek. It is not hard enough to sting, but it is enough to make you gasp, eyes wide as you let the slight tingle settle over your skin. Although you would ordinarily be ready to fight a man for slapping you, in this setting it excites you – makes you want to act like even more of a pain in his ass. 

"Too far?" Yoongi asks, expression still hard but with a hint of softness hiding around the edges.

If this were anyone else, you would bat your lashes and tell him you liked it – that it felt exciting enough to set a spark in you that is threatening to light a proper fire. But this is Yoongi, so you scoff and say, "I didn't call my safe word, did I?"

Yoongi chuckles in response with the edge of his mouth tugging into a sharp sneer. Then he slaps you again, this time hard enough to sting, and he grips your throat and tugs you against him, forcing your forehead to crash against his tummy while the head of his cock presses into your lips and teeth. 

"Suck my fucking dick or I'm leaving," he commands. 

With a roll of your eyes, you grumble, "So moody."

You can hear the beginning of a response, but you open wide and swallow Yoongi as far as you can take him, letting the tip lightly touch your throat. Yoongi groans, tightening his grip on your neck before relaxing it while the other firmly grabs the back of your head.  

Without warning, Yoongi bucks his hips, thrusting deep. You gag, but not badly enough to have to pull off, swallowing the feeling while he pulls back and thrusts forward again. And again, pulling out, slamming deep, and pulling out, clearly not setting a rhythm so much as testing your limits. 

You lift your hands and settle them on his hips, surprised by how soft his skin feels beneath your fingertips, and when he pulls back again, you take in a deep enough breath through your nose. Although Yoongi is forceful, his grip on you is loose – a small mercy considering you are already drooling and beginning to cry.

"Damn, baby girl, your throat feels amazing," Yoongi rasps, voice coming out surprisingly desperate. 

As he sets a pace you settle into the pattern of breathing in time with his thrusts, and Yoongi continues to hold onto your head and neck while he fucks your face. Although you have given a sloppy blow job or two in the past, this is the first time you have allowed someone to be in control. 

Tears catch in your eyelashes and fall. You glance up, watching as Yoongi grits his teeth and knits his brow, clearly holding himself back from losing some semblance of control – whether it is the urge to fuck harder or to cum already, you can only presume. 

When his eyes meet yours, he moans, allowing his eyelids to flutter, causing your strong foundation of hating his fucking guts to crumble just a little. Yoongi looks sexy while falling apart, sweat glistening on his shoulders and chest, which rise and fall with each breath he takes. 

"You have no idea how fucking good this feels," Yoongi mutters, hissing as his cock presses in nice and deep, causing thick drool to build in your throat. 

The sounds that come from you are wet and pornographic, forced from your throat. You attempt to hum in response to his praise but the sound is garbled and lost. Not that he needs to hear your sweet utterances, anyway; what would that do for his ego?

When Yoongi pulls all the way out, it surprises you. You lurch slightly, your mouth following the movement while your lungs attempt to adjust to a full intake of air. Yoongi moves his hand from the back of your head and slaps you across the cheek, making you whimper. Drool coats your lips and chin, tears streak down your cheeks, and the way Yoongi looks down at you is practically reverent. You wonder what he could possibly be thinking – Min Yoongi does not look at you like that. 

Thankfully, in a blink, the expression is gone, replaced by something much sharper. Yoongi reaches down and yanks at your swim top, forcing your breasts to spill in a jerking motion. Too stunned to respond, you sit while Yoongi roughly palms at your chest, calloused hands against soft, sensitive skin. He squeezes and slaps your breasts, giving your nipples a pinch with one alternating hand while he continues holding you firmly by the throat. You do your best not to react too loudly, huffing and sighing without moaning; you want Yoongi to really work to get a reaction out of you. With how cocky he is, you expect he will have no trouble doing so.

Without warning, Yoongi shoves you onto your back, fully releasing you, and sending you crashing against the comforter. You scramble, legs spreading as you lift one in an attempt to get into any position that might be useful, but Yoongi bends and grabs your ass, yanking it off the edge of the bed and pressing in a way that lifts your hips slightly, causing your legs to flail and spread. He yanks your swimsuit bottom to the side, bends just enough to spit on you, and then he rubs the tip of his dick against the spit, over your clit and labia before he spears you nice and deep. 

The stretch makes you cry out and squeeze your eyes tight, gripping the comforter and attempting to find a position to hold your legs. Yoongi presses and slightly twists you so that one leg is bent and somewhat hanging downward and the other is lifted high in the air, and he sets a brutal pace, fucking you hard and deep before you can wrap your head around anything.

"Holy fuck!" you scream, pleasure-pain so intense you struggle to breathe. 

"So tight," Yoongi moans, pressing his weight into you even more, making your leg muscles burn and ache. 

All you can do is lay and take what Yoongi gives you, doing your best to relax your muscles while he fucks you harder and better than anyone has before. You said you wanted it rough and you are not disappointed. With each deep thrust, you chase your high quickly. 

Yoongi reaches with one hand and roughly rubs over your clit, giving your pussy gentle slaps that send you hurtling over the edge. Your moans turn into sobs, back bowing from the bed as you build and build and then crash. 

"That's it, baby girl," Yoongi grits, fingers working your clit in more practiced movements. "Show me how fast I can make you cum."

"Sh-sh-shut up," you grumble, head digging back into the comforter. Orgasm washes over you, threatening to drown you in its undertow, and you sob and moan, hands tensing and releasing as your legs tremble at their awkward angles. 

Yoongi pulls all the way out before you finish, shoving your legs down and forcing you to roll over. You move in a haphazard tangle of limbs, your body both shimmering from its high and feeling unfulfilled.

As you get onto your stomach, you drag-crawl up the bed just enough to prevent your knees from hanging uncomfortably, glad when the bed dips and Yoongi follows you. Both hands grip your ass cheeks, pulling the material of your bathing suit and causing the fabric to dig into your skin. 

Yoongi slides back in and presses his hands firmly on your ass and lower back, pinning you down while his thrusts make the mattress bounce. You feel dizzy as Yoongi fucks you deep, and when he moves his hands to anchor beside your hips, you bounce even harder. 

One hand presses down on the side of your head and pushes your face into the mattress, and although it does not hurt the pressure is enough to make you feel almost floaty and perfectly used. You are so close to cuming again, and when Yoongi leans low, warm breath ghosting over your face, you close your eyes. 

"This rough enough for you?" he asks, voice raspy and enticing. 

You practically scream yes and divulge just how good he makes you feel – how you will likely never be fucked this good by anyone else. But you choose to hold onto the praise for another day. 

"It's pretty good," you manage to mutter between unrelenting slaps of skin against skin. 

Yoongi scoffs. "Pretty good," he grits, mostly to himself. 

Then he spits on the side of your mouth, causing you to scowl. Yoongi removes the hand from your head and rubs his fingers over the saliva, smearing it over your lips and cheek while his hips continue their attack. 

"You look so good all messy," he says with a playful tone. "Nothing but a submissive little fuck doll for me to use as I please."

Yoongi sits up, grips you by the hips, and speeds his pace, causing every muscle in your body to fight between wanting to tense and relax. You chase your next high and breakneck speeds, babbling nonsense as Yoongi uses you just as promised. 

You nearly cum just as Yoongi pulls out and releases his hold. With an impatient, frustrated groan, you bury your face into the blanket while Yoongi's weight shifts and reaches under you to grab your hips. Hot breath follows a warm wet tongue against your pussy, and you moan loud and eager, doing your best to pop your ass out and give him as much access to you as possible as a new rush of pleasure takes hold. 

Yoongi buries his face into you and puts his whole jaw into devouring your cunt, lips and tongue working you over in broad, sloppy movements. Remnants of the high you were chasing before build quickly. And when his tongue moves to your asshole and he plunges two fingers into your pussy, thumb rubbing over your clit, the dam breaks. Gripping the comforter, you squeal and moan, feeling wave after intense wave flow through you. Yoongi hums and groans as he tongue fucks your ass, fingers and thumb rubbing over your sweet spots. As soon as your high dissipates, you feel another racing to take its place. 

This time, when he pulls away before you can cum, you feel relief. You do your best to relax and catch your breath, feeling your entire body tremble and sink into the mattress. 

"Already going limp on me," Yoongi teases, pressing into your hips to make you roll around to your back again. 

“Making me dizzy,” you complain as you flop over, legs spreading uselessly, plopping down to the mattress. 

Your bathing suit top is even more askew, breasts hanging past the thin cups that have shifted, but you do not care. This is exactly how you wanted to be fucked – rushed, rough, and without any preamble or romance. 

“You like it when I play with your ass,” Yoongi teases, lips pulled into an obnoxious smirk. 

“Shut up,” you complain, rolling your heavy, tired eyes. 

Yoongi spreads your thighs with both palms and spits with enough force onto your clit that it makes you flinch. One hand stays pressed into your thigh while the other pumps and lines up his cock. 

How it still feels so incredible when he spears you open is a mystery; your body should be used to it by now, but instead the stretch feels overwhelming, making you moan and arc off the comforter. 

“Should let Jimin and I double penetrate you,” Yoongi grits between his teeth as he pulls back and slams forward. 

“Oh my god!” you scream as Yoongi grips your hips and drives his cock into you so hard, your body trembles and jiggles with each perfect punch of his hips. 

Although the prospect of actually meeting Jimin does interest you, and it does feel good when Yoongi plays with your ass, double penetration – specifically anal sex –  is not something you are ready for. But you are unable to voice your trepidation at the moment, mouth only capable of sputtering nonsense between sobs and moans, which you are no longer capable of holding back. 

Yoongi leans, deepening his thrusts, and he slots two fingers into your mouth, pressing on your tongue and forcing you to drool. His fingers taste like you, heady and ever so slightly tangy, and he grips onto your jaw nice and tight while each drag of his cock threatens to send you into a new dimension of existence. 

Your eyes flutter and you wonder if it is possible for your soul to slip from your body. You feel tingly and elevated into clouds – like nothing in the world exists but the two of you tangled in this sardonic dance. 

"Fuck, I won't last much longer," Yoongi groans, and you practically thank the heavens. 

At this rate, if Yoongi does not cum soon you might risk actually wanting to see him more often. You might find yourself thinking about him while he is away, and, god forbid, wanting to invite him over to do this again. 

"Can I cum inside you?" Yoongi asks, voice breaking around the edges. 

You attempt to mutter, "Absolutely not," around his fingers, but the sounds come out jumbled and drool runs down your cheek. 

Luckily, Yoongi seems to understand, and he slides his fingers from your mouth then pulls all the way out and begins to stroke himself off with his drool-covered hand. Although you find it hard to keep your eyes open, you cannot help but stare. 

Yoongi kneels over you, head tipped back with his throat bobbing as he chases the last of his high. He moans loud and unabashed, sounding and looking far better than you care to admit, with his mint-colored hair hanging over his forehead in sweaty little stalactites. He trembles as his cum sprays from his glistening cock, covering your thigh and hip, and as he squeezes his tip to get the last remaining drops out, he falls slightly forward, bracing himself with his free hand. 

"God damn," Yoongi groans, head drooping low. "I knew you would feel good but that was insane."

The urge to tell Yoongi to shut up is strong, but you find you cannot get the words out. All you can do is stare as he catches his breath. You wonder how you have never noticed how broad his shoulders are before, eyes tracing the lines of muscle and bone. Briefly, you even wonder if you could have a crush on someone like him before you heavy-blink and shake your head, forcing the thought away.

You hum in response to Yoongi's words, delayed because you are stuck in your head. Of course, you would be thinking thoughts about a man who makes you feel this good – but that is all they are, thoughts. Yoongi is an idiot, at the end of the day, who is best friends with your brother, and something like this cannot become a regular occurrence. Surely, once you have come down from your various highs, you will be right back to hating him. 

"Alright," Yoongi groans, finally meeting your eye while he slides off the edge of the bed into a standing position. "This was fun. Thanks for the pussy."

"Whatever," you grumble, finally attempting to move your bathing suit back into place before realizing you still have Yoongi's cum drying on your fucking hip. 

"Next time I want to bring Jimin. You'll love him, trust me."

With a sigh, you glance around the room, then remember there is a box of tissues sitting on the bathroom counter. "There is definitely not going to be a next time," you respond as you begin to attempt to roll into a position that does not make the cum trickle onto the bed. 

"You always say that," Yoongi teases, pulling his shorts up, "but I know you'll be thinking about me after this. I saw the way you drifted, baby girl. You were having an out of body experience while I fucked you nice and hard."

"Alright, fuck off," you complain, sitting up and untying the still-damp bathing suit from your chest. Post-nut regret settles deep the more he eggs you on, and it is beginning to annoy the shit out of you. Why must he speak? All of this would be much more pleasant if he would just fuck you and go.

Yoongi turns and walks away without another word. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in, making an attempt at centering yourself. This was just another slip-up and hardly a big deal; it is not as if you will be asking for a round three. He is simply too annoying and low-key inconsiderate. 

You sit and wait for the door to open and close, planning a nice warm shower. The only plan the group has is to meet for dinner, and that isn't for another few hours, so you have plenty of time to space out and collect your thoughts. You are shocked when you feel something hit you on the arm, and your eyes fly open to find the cardboard cube of tissues resting by your hand, and Yoongi standing nearby with a smile. 

"See ya later," he calls, waving his fingertips playfully while a sweet, almost pretty smile graces his lips. 

"Yup," you respond, tearing your gaze away and looking down at the tissues. Only when you finally do hear Yoongi leave, do you begin to wipe yourself clean.

"Get your shit together," you mumble under your breath, disgusted by how much you actually did enjoy Yoongi's company, bothered by how your giant suite feels lonely the moment he is gone. 

You need to get a grip before dinnertime. And you need to resist the urge to get to know Jimin. This can not and will not become a regular thing. There is absolutely no way it can. Nothing good can come from catching feelings for that demon.

* * *

check out the playlist 🎵

ahhh, here we are again with a written part after almost a full year! let me know what you think! i only have 1 other part planned, but that doesn't mean it will end there. (no promises, tho!)

comments and reblogs make the world go 'round! and likes are appreciated, too!!!

tag list: @btsiguess-kpop @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13 @fluffybuns69 @giriiboyy @glosstwn @idkjustlovingbts @melancholy-of-nadia @mgthecat @monvante @moonleeai @m1sss1mp @nansasa @spookyminyunki @tarahardcore @teddytaee @violetsiren90 🍃 comment or dm to be added to the tag list! by requesting, you are agreeing to being 18 or older. minors will be blocked.

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Devil with the Mint Hair is copyright 2022 - 2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved. 

[tallysgreatestfan]

@cruelfeline tagged everybody who wanted in this, so I gladly take this opportunity, because it looked fun.

Who was your first fictional crush?

You know, I kept telling me it was Spock from Star Trek TOS for the entirety of my teen years because I desperately wanted to be hetero and ignore that I am actually bi. But looking back, I actually realize that it was even earlier than that, it was Tally Youngblood. Not the Tally from the movie, tough I guess she is cute and could be hot as an adult (and super soldier) too. I realized in the third book, Specials. There is this scene where Tally ends up getting saved last second from being operated on fully conscious, and this image of a tall, muscular, tattooed and scarred, clawed and fanged, bleeding and very, very pissed cyborg super soldier girl made thirteen year old me feel in a way could not really understand back then at all. But looking back... yeah.

What’s the first colour you think of when I tell you to think of a colour?

Blue

Which fanfiction emotionally scarred you and still makes you shudder to this day?

Dead Dove alarm.

I think the most viscerally disturbing one is a Lennier/John Sheridan one (Babylon 5), where Lennier shows up at Sheridan and Delenns house after the series, clearly mentally unwell and wanting to atone for nearly snapping over his love for Delenn, so he basically offers himself up to Sheridan to do with him whatever he thinks he deserves as punishment. This starts as psychological torture over both of them being in love with Delenn, and then escalates in an not exactly consensual sex scene mostly about Sheridan demonstrating how Delenn choose him and he knows about all kinds of Minbari anatomy stuff from that. After that, I hated Sheridan even more than already before, but he also felt so much more human than canon ever managed to get across.

Then everything that even just vaguely explores Hordak/Horde Prime and the sheer amount of trauma for Hordak from that.

Then every ship fic featuring Shay as a Special (Uglies again) furies wrote on AO3. Such a good character study, and so desperate, and unhinged, and hopeless, and full of rage and self destructive even beyond the self-harm, it is so uncomfortable to read, but in a good way.

I’m coming to your house for dinner, non-negotiable, what are you making me?

Noodles with tomatoo sauce and parmesan I guess? It is not even that I can't cook complicated stuff, it is just that my executive dysfunction does not let me.

Do you prefer lions or kangaroos?

Kangaroos.

Which fictional villain do you brush past the glaringly obvious issues for because you really like them?

Uff, hard to pick one. I have so many villain faves. And I think I generally do like to acknowledge the bad things they did while also acknowledging their humanity, for a lack of better term, and reading them in good faith?

Both Hordak and Entrapta, though for them its relatively easy because the series is so vague about what extent of harm exactly their actions caused, and what the political and sociological background of that was?

Dr. Cable? One aspect I love about her character is that very much has an understandable, well intentioned goal (keeping humanity from destroying itself again), and in the books there a quite a few moments where I am so close to being on her side - not sure if this works in the movie too, since the movie flattened down the worldbuilding and message a bit - but she is also ready to do pretty much any atrocity for that.

What would accompany your picture in the Burn Book in Mean Girls?

I didn't really recognized that, so I had to google it. But given how awfully I was treated in school, I don't even need to guess. All kinds of ableist and queerphobic insults.

How many days would you last in the universe of your favourite fandom?

Hard to choose a fandom.

Babylon 5: I mean Babylon 5's world if you are not on some ship or space station pretty much is our world but with aliens, better technology and a small number of high ranking people who actually do try to make things better, so probably I would do just as badly as in our world, but survive?

Star Trek: Utopian post scarcity society. Don't think I would last long in Starfleet because I have no stress resistance whatsoever, but everywhere else I would thrive.

Uglies: Utopian post scarcity society but with a dark secret. Super safe, everything is handed to you, and additionally absurdly good medical technology, it would be pretty hard to actually get myself killed. Even if I would join one of the resistance movements, and end up getting captured by Special Circumstances, they, at least in the book, to not needlessly kill people, they just brain surge them to be happy and compliant.

She-Ra: Depends on where exactly I would end up? Would I be some citizen somewhere on Bright Moon territory who only truly notices what is going on when Horde Prime invades? Would I be in Plumeria (if they're all as ableist as Perfuma good luck)? The Etherian Horde? I am not a fighter or stress resistant at all and I can't deal well with crowded environments, but also the Etherian Horde seems to be pretty fair and flexible and accommodating about work as long as you don't end up directly under either Shadow Weaver or Catra, so... idk?

Have you heard of Mischief Theatre?

No

Do you feel sorry for Medusa?

Kind of depends on which version of the myth, but overall, yes.

Which song makes you think of your OTP?

I have so many different playlists for so many different OTPs, so I'll just say the first that comes to my mind:

"Animal" by Jim Yosef and RIELL, for Tally/Shay, specifically their destructive, bitter but also longing relationship in Specials, and probably also the fallout of this toxic relationship turning sexual once they're older and have processed a bit.

Which song makes you disassociate and daydream the fastest?

"Loud Magic" by Foreign Air right now. Makes me think on some original project idea I have heavily inspired by Babylon 5.

Also tagging everybody who wants

[springfallendeer]

The Bells -1

I really like @xitsensunmoon's vampire AU boys. So I defiled them. And whored out my OC, Ayala, in the process.

Most likely non-canon to their AU (up to them). I might write more from this setting in the future. But this fic comes out to 7 parts, nearly 21k words.

Next

Part 1: The Feeding

||A look of visible confusion spreads across the woman’s features as she hears it. The soft, gentle chime breaking the relative silence of her surroundings.||

||A bell.||

||Someone is ringing a bell.||

||She doesn’t know who. Not at first. But she hears it. The soft, metallic tune of a crotal bell being shaken about.||

||Time and time again it catches her ear. Each time seemingly singing from a different location. Always nearby. But no matter how she turns about, she never spots whoever it is that is playing the silly little tune.||

||Some part of her chalks it up to paranoia. An escaped dog or a roaming cat must be wandering around nearby. She’s only just beyond the reach of the city. It wasn’t unusual for an animal to make it out here. There were plenty of trees or flowering bushes for them to hide behind. That was what made the park so appealing, after all.||

||Again the bell chimes. This time louder. She finds herself turned about again, her eyes intent on scanning the surrounding scenery in search of whatever it was that had made the noise. But nothing is there. No man or beast lingering in the twilight. Just an empty park.||

||Once more, she hears the bell ring. Even louder this time.||

||Because it's right behind her.||

||Her breath hitches in her throat as she spins herself around once more. Her arm brushes against a cold, unmoving body as she turns around.||

||Wide, alert eyes settle upon the creature that had somehow appeared directly behind her. And it is most definitely a creature.||

||Glowing red eyes lock with hers. Intense and hungry. A wide smile laced with sharp, jagged teeth tugs at its face. A smile which parts somewhat to allow a long, thick tongue to dart out and trace the side of its face.||

||A tremble rolls through her as she stares at the creature. The obviously hungry, predatory creature. For a moment, she can’t bring herself to move. She can only stare at it. This monster of the night. Clad head to toe in attire meant to cartoonishly mimic the nocturnal sky. The only jarring contrast in color being the cape draped over its shoulders. Black. Marked with red streaks and a few stray, golden stripes.||

||Tall and lanky. With limbs that better resembled a mishmash of metal and bone than they did flesh. A face free of features outside of its eyes and mouth; save for the pale, crescent shaped marking that encompassed half of their face.||

||Under less intimidating circumstances, she might have thought this creature stunning. In a cartoon villain sort of way.||

||But this thing was anything but a cartoon villain. It was very real, and it was very, very unnerving. So much so that she can only tremble as a large, skeletal looking hand is lifted to brush against her face.||

||“What pretty eyes you have~” The creature utters, it's - his - voice deep, and laced with amusement.|| ||“So wide and shining~ So... Afraid~” He chuckles, gently tracing his thumb against the skin beneath the woman’s eye.||

||She struggles to find the strength to take a step back as the creature moves closer to her. That same large, skeletal hand slowly drifts back down her face. He caresses her cheek. He traces her jaw.||

||She trembles pathetically as a clawed finger traces her throat.||

||“No need to be afraid, friend~” The creature muses, casually hooking their claws into the neck of her shirt to tug the fabric aside. Her chest begins to heave from panic as they lean down. Surprisingly hot breath rolls against the nape of her neck once the being has moved close enough to claim her as their prey.|| ||“Just a quick pinch, and it’ll all be over~” He chuckles.||

||She doesn’t give him the chance to sink his teeth into her. As soon as the rush of adrenaline flooded her system, she bolted. First by stumbling back. Then by darting back the way she’d come. Up the sidewalk. Keeping to the light of the lamp posts as the steady encroaching darkness activated their protective glow.||

||The bells start up again. Louder and more ominous than ever.||

||No matter how quickly she runs, it's as though she can’t evade them. They never grow quieter. They never grow more distant.||

||One instant, they’re right behind her. The next, she distinctly hears them to one side. Regardless of how she turns to try and evade them, they are without means of escape.||

||She doesn’t even realize that she’s been herded to a more secluded spot. Driven in a specific direction as the creature used the chimes of its decorative bells to distract and alarm her. Until she’s left exhausted.||

||Panting and wheezing, she clutches the metal of the lamp post as she presses her back against it. Lost and confused, she does her best to go silent. She does her best to ignore the pounding of her own heart as she gazes out into the encroaching darkness, trying and failing to spot the creature that had pursued her.||

||The bells have finally gone quiet. Eerily, disturbingly quiet. The only sound to break the silence is the heavy hiss of her throat as her chest heaves.||

||Then a muffled scream as a familiar, skeletal hand covers her mouth.||

||A second arm wraps around to hold her by her torso, trapping her in place even as she thrashes in their hold. The only barrier between them is the metal pole that she had foolishly tried to hide herself.||

||The bells start up again as tears begin to prick her eyes. But the sound chimes from a different source; ringing not from the creature behind her, but from somewhere in the distance.||

||If not for her panic, she might have been inclined to see what it was. But her focus is entirely on trying to squirm out of the embrace of this beast that has apprehended her.||

||Until a second one walks boldly into her line of sight.||

||She goes still again, her only movements being the trembling of her body and the heaving of her chest as she stares at this new creature.||

||The obvious counterpart to the one that had pulled her into their clutches. A gold and yellow face peered down at her. The only features of that face being a sharp toothed smile and a set of pale, blue-gray eyes. The crescent mark is less obvious. A crown of golden rays adorned their head. Their clothing is bright and vibrant, like the radiance of the sun.||

||Their cape is red. A deep, dark red. Decorated with streaks of yellow.||

||An eerie, playful smile tugged at their features as they moved closer to her. A yellow, skeletal hand was brought up to her face. With the touch of a single, clawed finger, she was encouraged to lift her head to better face them.||

||The blue one slowly pulled their hand from her face, exposing her pathetic expression.||

||“P-please!... Please, don-” She began to plead for her life, only to be quickly silenced as the golden one began to shush her.||

||“Shh, shh~ Relax, friend. No one is going to kill you... We’re just hungry.” The golden entity states, their voice velvety soft as they attempt to comfort the woman. They lean down somewhat to lock eyes with her, shushing her as a few stray tears roll down her cheeks.|| ||“Calm down now... That’s it. Don’t worry. You’re safe.” He murmurs, slowly lowering his hand. Just as the blue one had done, he takes to tracing a clawed finger down to the bottom of her throat. Only now, as he tugs the collar of her shirt to the side, she feels not an ounce of fear.||

||Something about those pale eyes has calmed her. Something about their sweet, velvety voice has put her so at ease.||

||He waits for her chest to stop heaving before he leans down to nuzzle the crook of her neck, a soft smile tugging at his features all the while, exposing his pointed teeth.||

||“Good girl~” He murmurs.||

||She can’t help but flinch as the momentary pain hits her.||

||She only feels it for a moment. Just a pinch. A split second of pain, and then the warmth of her blood trickling down her skin. Then the oddly appealing sensation of a tongue lapping at her wounded flesh.||

||For as terrifying as this ordeal should be, she’s unusually calm. Relaxed, even. And she only grows more relaxed as her blood is greedily swallowed by the semi-robotic, golden vampire.||

||She grows so relaxed, in fact, that the blue one has to tighten their hold on her as her legs begin to give way. Their other arm is wrapped around to hook under one of her arms. Their hand settles upon her shoulder.||

||Before long, the golden vampire pulls their teeth free of her flesh.||

||She would have let out a relieved sigh if not for the fact that she felt the sting a second time.||

||The blue one sank their teeth into her next. Rather than reuse the original bite, they sank their teeth into the nearby flesh to create a fresh wound. A wound which allowed fresh blood to flow into their greedy mouth.||

||The blue one was different. Where the golden one had been content to bite once and then suck on the wound, the blue one liked to bite repeatedly. Every few seconds, she would feel that telltale sting of teeth cutting into her throat. Each time, a faint hiss would escape her, followed by a rush of relief.||

||Between the two of them, she lost a lot of blood. Her head grew foggy and her vision became blurry as her life was slowly spilt onto the vampire’s greedy tongue. By the time that the blue one had finished making a meal out of her, she was left so tired and disoriented that she could no longer stand.||

||One of them laughed, though she could not determine which. The steady glow of the lamp post began to irritate her exhausted eyes. As she allowed her eyelids to fall closed, she ignored how her heavy body was jostled about.||

||She struggled to stay awake as her body was readjusted. She felt a pair of arms wrap around to pick her up. The back of her head fell against one arm as the other tucked beneath her knees.||

||Not long after, she felt the breeze slowly roll against her body as she was presumably carried to a new location. But she could not be bothered to panic. The blood-loss induced grogginess mixed with the physical exhaustion of her earlier escape attempt, assuring that she wouldn’t be able to muster a single ounce of defiant energy.||

||The soft singing of the bells resumed as she began to steadily drift off, securely held in the arms of one of the beasts that had nearly drained the life out of her completely.||

||Comfortably held, but likely far from safe, she fell asleep in their embrace. The steady chimes of the bells guiding her into the depths of darkness as her consciousness slowly drifted beyond her means of reach.||

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Fanfics Coming Soon - 5/6/23

(Requests are closed for the time being)

I will be starting to work on the fics listed below, along with my Superman/Clark Kent X Reader Series.

The times of posts may vary. Also, Fanfic Fridays will have fewer fics, not as many as the usual four, but there will be consistent fics every Friday. The fics below will be posted on whatever Friday of the week that I've finished writing the said fic. (Ex. If I finished writing a fic on Wednesday, it'll be posted Friday, etc.)

Fics Coming Soon:

Superman Fic - Waiting For Superman - 1/10 or more chapters (possibly) - Slight angst/Fluff - Coming Soon

Erik Destler X GN Reader - Mini Angst/Mostly Fluff - Modern AU; A deep voice sings each night, a haunting song unlike any you've heard at the recording studio where you work the security nightshift. Each night, you listen and fall in love until one moonless night you seek its origin, finding a handsome ghost, Erik Destler, who wishes he had tasted true requited love before death stole him away.

Richard Grayson X GN Reader - Slight Angst/Fluff - Meeting The Family/Engaged; Newly engaged and beyond happy, your fiancé, Richard Grayson's preparing to bring you home for the holidays to meet his family for the very first time. So far, the two of you have had an idyllic relationship, but the true test will come when Bruce and the many, many siblings come into the picture and dredge up the past.

Pedro Pascal X Female Reader - Slight Angst/Fluff - Hades And Persephone AU; With the power of spring and flowers, you enjoy the wonders and beauty of nature. Wandering out of your home and beyond the borders of your kingdom, you stumble upon a dark wood, and curiosity got the best of you. You got lost, of course, having never been in the forbidden woods before. In the shadows, you spotted a figure, who walked out, dressed in dark clothing. He was tall, dark, mysterious, and incredibly charming. And when he offered you a pomegranate, you couldn't say no... After all, you were pretty hungry.

Jack Daniels X Female Reader - Slight Angst/Mostly Fluff - Royalty/maybe 1800s Regency period AU; As the youngest of seven sisters, you are told to wait your turn for marriage, but you can't help but fall for a handsome gentleman, Lord Jack Daniels, who comes to town on business. You decide to pursue him even though your mother has been eyeing him for sister, Adelaide, number five.

Harry Osborn X GN Reader - Mostly angst, Slight fluff - Vampire AU; You used to be in love with a vampire, Harry Osborn. But you were just eighteen, and your emotions were running high, and didn't really know any better; letting your admiration and love for him engulf you. You broke it off with him before you left for college. But, after a while, you noticed people were going missing, blood drained from bodies in alleyways on campus... And your new boyfriend had gone missing as well. You had a theory on what... Or who was causing all the havoc, and it was time to grab your wooden stake and end it once and for all... You just hoped you could resist his irresistible charm.

Johnny Storm X Female Reader - Slight Angst/Mostly Fluff - Single Mom AU; You're a single mom who works two full-time jobs to make ends meet. The new manager, Johnny Storm at your second job asks you out on a date. He's hot, kind, and perfect, but your son hates him and shows that in many humorous ways. Will love blossom or wither under your son's disapproving gaze?

Comment down below which you're excited for. ;)

[looooooooomis]

Somebody’s Baby

a stu macher x fem!reader one shot requested by the lovely @slasherscream​ 

I try to shut my eyes, but I can't get her outta my sight. I know I'm gonna know her, but I gotta get over my fright.

pairing: Stu Macher x fem!reader word count: 5.6k warnings: s m u t, longing, fluff, angst, oral, teasing, honestly I went off (my bad)

Stu Macher never really did stand a chance. At least not when it came to you.

He was putty in your hands, whether you knew it or not. He’d do anything for you, everything for you – even if that meant taking a backseat to Billy Loomis. He had to admit, it was gutting to watch you and Billy interact the way you did. The two of you were close – hell, the three of you were close – but there was something about you and Billy that seemed to just…make sense.

And, for the most part, Stu was okay with that. For the most part being the key words. Because, fuck, he’d be a liar if he said that tonight of all nights wasn’t bothering him. It was a night not unlike any other. The three of you had decided on a movie that Stu couldn’t really bring himself to care about all too much as you and Billy harped on and on about whatever it was the two of you were talking about, but it was your attitude that was rubbing him the wrong way.

You were distant tonight. You were cold. You seemed to smile real big whenever Billy would make a comment about the movie but if Stu said a goddamn word it was as though he’d sucker punched you in the gut. It didn’t feel angry, or at least he didn’t think you were angry, but there was something off about the whole damn thing and it was driving him mental.

You were tucked away in the chair with your knees curled up into your chest, frowning at a particularly bloody scene on the TV, a seemingly important one too, but Stu couldn’t bring himself to watch it. He was far too busy trying to discern what the lines on your forehead meant, what the furrowed brow and small, barely-there frown on that pretty face of yours meant. Had he unknowingly done something wrong? He didn’t think so, but stupid shit came out of his mouth all day long so, he supposed, it wasn’t impossible.

But there was a niggling feeling in his gut that told him that couldn’t be it. You weren’t mad or annoyed, you were cold. You were distant. It was as though you’d barricaded yourself away from him and done so with purpose. But why?

Why, why, why?

“It’s eight, Stu,” Billy muttered, far too engrossed in the movie to bother looking his way. “Didn’t you have to be at whatsername’s by eight-thirty?”

Glancing down at the time on his watch, Stu stretched out his long limbs and chanced another look at you only to find that your eyes were solely focused on the wall just beyond the television. For a moment, he remained still, waiting for you to do something. To look at him, to make a quip about his date, to do literally anything besides ignore him, but when your stare remained cast ahead, Stu sighed and stood up to his full height. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” He griped. “Think she’ll put out?”

It was meant to be a joke, something to lighten the mood or, at the very least, get you to crack a smile or roll your eyes, but when all you did was continue in your stare-off with the fucking wall, Stu’s stomach fell.

What the fuck was your problem tonight?

“Tact, fucker. Y/N is right here.” Billy rolled his eyes but shot him a small smirk. “And if she has a brain, don’t count on it.”

“Hilarious,” Stu mocked. “You guys need anything before I go? Some water? Some beer? Handful of condoms?”

“Fuck off,” Billy cracked a grin. “Don’t do anything stupid tonight.” He gave Stu a knowing look, being sure to keep his mouth shut around you in fear of letting anything regarding their little charade slip.

“Me?” Stu feigned hurt. “Never.”

Once again, he waited for you to say anything – a goodbye, at the very least – but when he got nothing in return, Stu merely rolled his eyes and walked out of the house.

You, on the other hand, remained stoic as ever as you blinked back a flurry of tears daring to spill out of the corners of your eyes. Your heart was in your stomach and your nails, which had been digging into your palms for the better half of the evening, carved out tiny half-moons into the sensitive flesh as you fought back every urge you had to scream and yell at the idiot for leaving you yet again.

The sound of the front door shutting was enough to make your body relax just enough for a few stray tears to roll down your cheeks. You were just so mad and so incredibly hurt all at once and, while you should have been used to it by now, it never got any easier watching that tall bitch of a man you’d grown to love over the years walk out for yet another date with another woman who was not yourself.

“You okay?” Billy asked, lulling his head towards you from his spot on the couch. He was the one person in the world to know your true feelings about Stu Macher and, while he’d never admit to it out loud, you knew he was oddly protective of you when it came to Stu’s idiocy, especially where his dating life was concerned.

You swallowed hard, not quite trusting your voice in fear of breaking down in front of him. So, instead, you remained silent and barely nodded. Was it hot in here or was it just you? You suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe as you sat in the dark room with Billy to your left and Stu now long gone. Deep breaths, you thought to yourself, squeezing your palms yet again. Deep, calming breaths.

You heard Billy sigh as he paused the movie. “Y/N,” he muttered, his tone careful, “how’s he going to know how you feel if you don’t actually say shit about it?”

Through the thick blanket of tears still gathering in your eyes, you focused your glare on the dark-haired man. “Fuck off,” you barked out, “like it’s that easy.”

“It is,” he shrugged. “What’s stopping you?”

“The idiot has a date every week, Billy,” you hissed, “am I supposed to show up with a bouquet of fucking roses declaring my feelings as his tongue’s down some other girls’ throat?” With your emotions at an all-time high, you stood up from the chair and raised a shaky hand to anxiously toy with your hair. “I mean does he have to parade his shit around here the way he does? It drives me nuts.”

Billy remained quiet and still as he watched you pace in front of the tv. He’d seen this frenzied look on your face only once before, but he knew what was coming next. It wasn’t often that you let your feelings finally bubble over to the brink of explosion, but if your current state was any indication, he was about to witness a breakdown.

Standing up to his full height, Billy quietly walked towards you and placed his hands on either shoulder, holding you in place as his brown eyes searched your own watery gaze. “Hey,” he cooed, brow puckered. “Stu’s a fucking idiot if he doesn’t see what’s in front of him.”

You chewed on your lip in an attempt to contain the sob desperately clawing its way up your throat. “I can’t watch him do it anymore, Bill,” you finally said, barely above a whisper. “It just hurts too much.”

It wasn’t often you were met with the soft side of Billy Loomis, but you cherished those moments – though so far and few between – each and every time. With a sigh, Billy wrapped his arms around your shoulders and tugged you close. He said nothing, though, because what could he say? Stu was a fucking moron when it came to you, he knew as much, but uttering those words at a time like this would only hurt you more.

You sniffed, your tears bleeding into the cotton of his white t-shirt. “I swear he—”

“Wow,” Stu’s voice rang out into the silence of the room. Snapping your head towards his sudden appearance, you froze in Billy’s arms, terrified of just how much he’d heard. At first, he seemed to just stand there for a second, staring at the two of you wrapped up in each other’s arms with a resigned, almost defeated look in his blue eyes. But all at once, in typical Stu fashion, that serious undertone slowly morphed into an almost amused sneer. “You two move fast, huh? Guess I should’ve grabbed those condoms.”

You rolled your eyes, barely hearing Billy’s sly comeback as you gently pushed him away. That heaviness in your chest that had made you cry only seconds prior was now a raging fire inside of your chest. The audacity this big, dumb, ass of a man had.

“Hilarious, Stu,” you griped, sniffing as you walked back to your chair. “Forever the comedian.”

“Hey,” he held his hands up in surrender. “No shame in it, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t interrupt shit,” Billy said. “And you know it.”

“What are you even doing back?” You snapped, glowering across at the idiot. “Or did you get bored of this one already?” You made a show of looking down at your watch-less wrist. “Five whole minutes, that’s got to be a new record.”

Stu pretended to laugh. “I forgot my wallet, ice queen,” he grabbed his wallet off of the table but continued to glare down at you. “What’s your problem tonight, anyway? You’ve got a stick shoved so far up your ass it’s practically coming out of your—”

“I wouldn’t go there,” Billy warned, flicking the play button on the remote. “Stop while you’re ahead.”

Stu barely glanced at him. “Nah, Billy,” he shrugged and took a seat on the edge of the couch closest to where you sat. “I’m curious. Can’t a guy be curious as to why a broad suddenly decides to give you the cold shoulder?”

“I warned you,” Billy merely shrugged.

“A broad?” You growled. “Get fucked, Macher.”

“What is your issue?” Stu reiterated. “I’m serious. You’ve been acting like a—”

“I’m not getting into this with you.” Pushing yourself off of the chair, you stormed passed both men towards the front door. “Enjoy your date, dipshit.”

Stu watched you go in utter confusion but before he could get up to follow you and continue this entire fiasco, Billy smacked him upside the head. “Leave her be, idiot,” he merely said, not tearing his eyes away from The Exorcist. “Let her cool off.”

“Cool off?” Stu asked with a furrowed brow. “Cool off from what? You two got that heated that fast that she stormed out because I came back inside?”

A long, deep, heavy sigh escaped Billy’s lips as he – yet again – had to pause the movie. His eye twitched in irritation as he surveyed the almost dopey look on Stu’s face. “I just want to watch this damned movie and it’s like a fucking soap opera with you two.”

Stu blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“You seriously don’t know, do you?” When all he received was a blank stare from his friend, Billy pinched the bridge of his nose and swore under his breath. “You’re even dumber than you look, you know that?”

»»————-¤————-««

It was a few hours later when there was a casual knock at your front door. Your parents were gone for the night and, as you glanced at the time, your stomach gave a nervous twist. It was nearing midnight and, while it was a Friday and you were by no means tired, just who would be knocking at your door this late at night eluded you.

Debating on whether or not to answer, you remained firmly situated on your couch as you eyed the front door in disdain. Maybe if you waited long enough, they’d move onto the next house and your life could be spared for another night. But, before you could get too much hope on the matter, another loud knock erupted from the door. This time, however, followed by an all too familiar voice.

“Hey dipshit,” Stu’s muffled voice rang out, “open up.”

“The fuck?” You whispered in confusion before making your way to the front door. Sure enough, as you unfastened the lock, there he stood. Stu Macher in all his glory. His eyes were somewhat wild as he silently stood on your front porch, soaking you in from all angles as his Adams apple bobbed up and down in his throat. For the first time in…well, ever, it appeared Stu was at a loss for words.

“Stu, what the hell?” You asked. “My parents could have been home do you know how late it is?”

“Yeah,” he simply said, not moving an inch from where he stood. “But this couldn’t wait.”

You blinked. “What couldn’t wait?” You asked, glancing over his shoulder to see if this was some weird prank that he and Billy thought up. “Come inside, you’re freaking me out.”

“I—” His words seemed to die on his tongue. “I just need to know if it’s true.”

You frowned. “If what’s true?” You racked your brain for a possible answer but came up empty. “Did something come up on your date or something? If it’s about that rumour with me and Matt Sewinski, I promise you that’s not true. The guy’s a creep.”

Stu shook his head but his eyes remained glued to your face, unblinking. “No,” he simply said, “and I didn’t end up going out with Heather.”

You wrinkled your nose. “I thought it was Sarah tonight?”

Stu shut his eyes in sheer annoyance. “Heather, Sarah, whoever the fuck it was,” he opened those blue eyes open again and the raw intensity inside of them made you take a small step back. “I didn’t go.”

You swallowed hard and suddenly felt a wave of nausea overcome you. “Why?” You gulped out.

Stu licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair. He was yet to step foot inside your house and between the maniacal look in his eye and the chilled breeze seeping in through the open door, you shivered absentmindedly. “I talked to Billy.”

Four words. Four tiny little words was all it took to make the room around you spin on its axis. A cold sweat broke out across your chest as you averted your eyes to the wall directly beside his head. Maybe if you didn’t quite look him in the face, you could get out of what was about to become an incredible awkward, painful situation. With your breath trembling, you swallowed again and tried to find your voice. “About what?”

Stu cocked his head to the side. “Y/N,” he warned, “cut the shit.”

Another painful gulp. Your throat felt like it was closing in on you as you stood there facing the boy you’d been in love with for as long as you could remember. You’d often dreamt of this day, the day where he’d finally realize your feelings only to have them reciprocated fully – but when you’d pictured it, Stu looked a lot less crazy than he did looking back at you now. But, even still, there was a glimmer of emotion shining brightly behind those blue eyes that made your breath hitch in your throat.

It made you nervous.

Worse, it made you hopeful.

“Stu,” you tried to find some conviction in your tone, but your nerves got the better of you. “Can you just get inside first? You’re scaring me.” Despite feeling as though you were going to faint, you managed to reach across the divide to yank him inside of your house. Locking the door behind you, you took a few even breaths before turning back around to face him. “What did Billy say?”

Stu ignored your question as he began to pace around your hallway. He was this tall, broad, string bean of a man on a regular day, but the mass of him tonight was all encompassing as he governed your foyer. “Seven years,” he began, his voice slightly shaky. “We’ve known each other for seven fucking years, Y/N. And I’ve hung on your every fucking word for all of six years, eight months and a handful of days, give or take.” He turned on his heel rather abruptly to face you. “But you liked Billy.”

You opened your mouth to respond to the first half of his statement before realization dawned on you. Grimacing, you shook your head. “Billy? He’s like my brother, where the hell did that come from?”

“You act like he hung the fucking moon, Y/N!” He exclaimed, emphatically. “What was I supposed to think?”

“What?” You shook your head in sheer confusion. “Okay, one thing at a time. Billy is one of my best friends. So are you. What’s the problem here?”

“The probl—?” Stu laughed. “The problem? For seven fucking years you’ve been the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of before I go to sleep. And literally every fucking second in between. And this whole goddamn time, I thought you were in love with Billy.”

You were reeling. You weren’t entirely sure if your heart was beating as loud as it appeared to be, but you were sure he could hear it from where he stood a few feet away. “I—” You tried to form a sentence – any sentence – but nothing seemed to suffice. “But the dates?” Were the only words that seemed to spill from your lips. “You were dating – are dating – constantly.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, “wonder why.”

You weren’t sure when you’d done it or just how your legs managed to carry you back into the living room, but you found yourself falling against the arm of the couch in an almost dream-like state. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m not trying to say anything,” Stu fussed. “I want to know if what Billy told me was true.” He walked up to you and searched your face. “Do you love me?”

You didn’t answer at first. You couldn’t. Not when it felt as though your lungs were about to explode in your chest. You must have opened your mouth a dozen times over, each time with the promise of a formative sentence, but nothing seemed to suffice.

Suddenly Stu’s hands were on you. Squeezing your thighs with those large hands, he demanded your focus as he swooped down and caught your eye. “I need you to answer me, doll.”

You were so focused in on the overwhelmingly glorious feeling of his hands on your thighs that you forgot to answer. Hell, you forgot to breathe. It wasn’t until you slowly managed to tear your eyes away from his hands to trail up the rest of his body towards that striking face of his, that you found your words.

“You came to my house at midnight. You’ve been the one going on dates like it’s a part time job. You’re the one claiming to have been hanging on my every word for the better half of our friendship so, no, Stu, I’m not saying a fucking word until you tell me what it is that brought you here this late?” You pushed his hands off of your thighs and stood up. “All I’ve done this entire time is sit idly by and watch you carry on like Heffner at the Playboy Mansion. You want me to answer you? Not until I get a—”

Your answer came in the form of a kiss.

On instinct, your hands tangled through his hair as his tongue slid along your bottom lip. He might have been on your shit list at the moment, but fuck he was a good kisser. You’d been thinking about this very moment for as long as you could remember. Longer, even, and god was it everything you thought it would be and more.

His hands were on your face at first, cradling it gently as he backed you into the sofa, and then they were on your neck, holding you close as his tongue massaged against your own. Shivering beneath his touch, you instinctively leaned into his broad chest as the pair of you continue to stand there, kissing like your lives depended on it.

“Stu,” you mumbled against his lips. “What are we doing?”

“Kissing” he rasped out before finding your lips yet again. “Bed or couch?”

Every red flag in your head was going off to stop this and properly talk about what was not so subtly insinuated only seconds prior, but he just felt so good and you’d wanted this so so long. “Bed,” you told him breathlessly, without a second thought.

Stu wasted no time in leading you towards your bedroom, kissing his way down your neck as you stumbled down the narrow hallway. Obviously losing his patience about halfway through, he pushed you up against the wall and trailed sloppy kisses down your jaw and neck. “I love you, if that wasn’t obvious.” He breathed out. “Like, a lot.”

His words struck you blind. Ever the dutiful distraction, however, Stu’s hand trailed down your sweatshirt before settling on the waistband of your pajama shorts. Your body reacted to the promise of his hand. Arching into him, you bit your lip and sighed in contentment as his fingers slipped beneath the band. You were already soaked. Your body responded to the man in a way you couldn’t begin to comprehend, and you weren’t sure you wanted to. And as his middle finger slid into your folds, instantly finding your clit, a soft moan escaped your lips.

“Is this the horny part of your brain talking?” You growled, tugging at the ends of his hair so that you had full access to his lips. “Or are you serious?”

“So fucking serious.” He hummed into your mouth. He pinched your clit, garnering a rather surprised hiss to escape from your lips as your entire body lurched forward. Hearing him chuckle, you popped an eye and began to pull his shirt over his head. When you tossed it across the hallway, his eyes met yours. “Do you love me?”

“Yeah, but I have bone to pick with you first,” you chided, doing your best to control your breathing as he quickened his pace on your clit.

He ducked his head down to bite your lip. “Unless it’s this bone,” he ground his hips into you, and you could feel his rock-hard erection even through his jeans. “It can wait.”

You laughed before you could think of stopping yourself. “Jesus Christ, you’re disgusting.”

He was smirking across at you. “You love it.”

Still grinning, you rolled your eyes before your lips took refuge on his neck. Which, as it turned out, was a massive turn-on for Stu Macher. Running your tongue along it and nipping at the sensitive flesh, was getting him incredibly riled up if the bulge in his jeans was any indication. Biting down on the sensitive flesh, the groan it drew out of his mouth was enough to make your already wet pussy clench around his fingers.

“Fuck,” he drew out, sliding the finger that had been assaulting your clit only seconds prior inside of you.

You let out a small moan of your own as you hurriedly got to work on his belt. “Why the fuck wouldn’t you just tell me how you felt?” When you’d managed to practically rip it off of his waist, you wasted no time in unzipping his jeans. His cock sprung free within seconds.

“I thought you liked Billy,” he rasped out gruffly as you began to pump his cock with your hand. “What was I supposed to do?”

You wiggled free from the hand currently down your shorts and dropped to your knees. Looking up at him through your thick eyelashes, you raised your brow. “You could have asked me?” You reminded him, swirling your tongue around the tip of that perfectly girthy cock. The man might have been a pain in the ass but good god he had the assets to make up for it.

Stu braced himself against the wall behind you and threw his head back. Fuck, you were lethal with that mouth of yours. “Hindsight,” he breathed out.

You released his cock with a pop. “You’re an idiot.” Was all you said before getting back to work. With your hand, you circled the base of his dick and took the length of him inside your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip each time you made your way back up.

He grabbed your hair and gave it a firm pull. “Fuck,” he growled. “Keep going.”

You hummed against his dick, digging your nails into his thigh briefly before looking back up at him. “Or what?” He allowed his forehead to fall against his forearm currently stabilizing him against the wall. You knew you were driving him crazy, but he’d done the same thing to you for the last seven years and you were nothing if not a petty bitch when you wanted to be. “Say it again.”

He furrowed his brow. “Say what?” Realization dawned on him. “Fuck, baby, you keep doing that I’ll put a ring on your finger tomorrow.” Stu’s blue eyes were hungrily taking you in. How you’d managed to stay fully dressed as he stood there with his jeans around his ankles and his cock out was beyond him but, sure enough, that was his reality. “I love you. A lot.”

You dug your nails into his thigh again, and slowly licked up the base of his cock. “Hmm,” you hummed with a nod of your head, releasing it to stand up to your full height. His eyes were pleading with you to finish him off, but as you slinked up the wall and mirrored his hungry gaze, he surprised you by sliding his calloused hand up the side of your neck until it cupped your cheek. You were practically nose-to-nose as he slowly pinned you against the wall and, as he leaned forward and nudged your nose with his, a slow, lazy grin broke out across your face. “I love you, too.”

Slowly, you leaned in and kissed him. Unlike the deliberate make-out session you’d had minutes prior, this kiss was slow and methodical. When you pulled away, you kissed the tip of his nose and nodded towards your bedroom. “Get on the bed.”

Stu’s eyebrows shot up in amusement. “Pushy.”

You gave his dick a tug. “Go.”

He swooped in again and kissed you before haphazardly kicking off his shoes and jeans, punting them across the hallway as he backed you into your bedroom. When you were close enough to your bed, he broke the kiss to peel off your sweatshirt. Throwing it across the room, his hands were back on you within seconds, kneading and massaging your breasts before taking one in his mouth. Expertly, his tongue ran along your nipple before he began to suck and nip at them. Arching into his mouth, you fisted a handful of his hair and groaned as he pulled you in even closer.

“Stu,” you moaned, shutting your eyes momentarily as you allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling of his mouth on your tits. The man truly was a god with his tongue.

But you had a trick up your sleeve. A little payback, if you will. And this, melting into his mouth, was not part of the plan.

Hating yourself, you pushed him away. The back of his knees hit your bed and you watched as he fell back onto the soft mattress with a slight bounce. There was confusion in his stare as he sat there ogling you. “Get over here,” he beckoned, voice low.

Slowly, you shimmied out of your pajama shorts, feeling his eyes on you every step of the way as you stepped out of them and walked towards the bed. Towards him. Sitting himself up, he opened his legs so you could step between them. His hands were slow as they trailed up and down your thighs, hips, and waist before sliding around to your ass. Squeezing and pulling at your cheeks, he pulled you closer and placed a tender kiss to your sternum before craning his neck up to peer up at you.

“I always knew you had a thing for my ass.” You raked your fingers through his hair, pushing it back and away from his forehead as you grinned down at him.

His answer came in the form of another firm squeeze of your ass only rather than stop there, he tugged you closer until you were tumbling onto his lap. You gripped his shoulders as you straddled his lap, subtly grinding your hips so his erection settled between the folds of your pussy, rubbing against your clit.

“Lay down on your stomach,” he uttered. When he noticed your apprehension, he raised a single eyebrow up at you and squeezed again. “Do you trust me?”

You nodded mutely and did as you were told. And, before you knew it, you were sliding off of his lap to lay stomach-down on your bed. You felt the bed shift as Stu crawled towards you but before you could question him on it, you felt his hands slide beneath your hips to pull you up so that your ass was raised in the air.

“What are you—”

Your words died in your throat as you felt his tongue glide along your pussy. Gasping, you nearly buckled forward, but caught yourself on your pillow. You were face down, buried in the comforter and pillows of your bed, but with your hips bent at the level Stu had moved them into, he had full access to both your pussy and your ass. You could feel his fingers kneading into your ass as his lapped up your every fold until settling on your clit. You groaned and buried your face into the pillow as he began to suck your clit. You could hear how wet you were as his mouth imbibed every inch of your pussy.

His name tore out of your throat and your knuckles whitened as you gripped the bedsheets. The veins in your neck swelled with every laboured breath you managed to draw and you found yourself bucking into his mouth as an orgasm rippled through your body. You moaned and groaned and cursed into the bed but Stu’s mouth was relentless. And as he pinched your clit all the while still lapping you up, you all but collapsed. When he was sure you couldn’t take another second of torture, he pulled away and allowed you to collapse onto the bed. Your cheeks were flushed, and your lips were parted as you attempted to catch your breath. With a quiet chuckle, he kissed his way up your spine, grinning against your skin as your legs continued to twitch.

“Can I?” He asked, his cock at the ready.

Nodding, you gasped when you felt him slide inside of you. He bit down on your shoulder as he thrust into you and his quiet moans and unsteady breath was enough to kill you. “Fuck,” he whispered. “You feel so fucking good.”

This was a high unlike any other for Stu. Watching his cock slam into you, watching your ass slap against him with every wild thrust and pump he provided and feeling just how fucking wet you were for him – this was the unattainable high. You were the unattainable high.

He reached around to play with your clit again. He could feel it throbbing between his fingers and, feeling you tremble made him weak. Quickening his pace on your clit and steadying his thrusting to ensure you finished again, Stu bit down on your earlobe. “Come for me, baby.”

Your answer came in the form of another thick, guttural moan as you came undone yet again. He watched you quiver and shake and the vision of it was enough for him to quicken his thrusts. Groaning, his hands fell from your clit to hold your hips as he pounded into you. The sound of your cheeks slapping against him was drawing him closer and closer to one hell of an orgasm and as you let out one last breathy moan, his whole body seemed to erupt in fire.

His breathing was heavy as he came inside of you and the more sensitive his cock got with every thrust, his pace slowed. For a moment, neither of you moved. Instead, he allowed his forehead to fall back against your shoulder before he slowly pulled out.

“If I’d have known that’s what I was missing, we should have had this talk a lot sooner.” You teased, earning a playful smack to your ass from the man. Grinning, you flopped back onto the pillow and stared up at him. He was leaning on one arm as those blue eyes scraped over every inch of your face. You could see the words he wanted to say splayed out across his face and found yourself reaching up to brush his hair back and away from his sweaty forehead.

“Right back at ya,” you smiled.

Fuck, you really were in love with the idiot.

[mrsmaybank]

Daydreams - Professor!Reid x Student!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT, HEAVY PETTING, SPANKING, FINGERING, DEGRADATION, UNPROTECTED SEX, AGE GAP, DADDY KINK

A/N: Holllaay shit. I am absolutely in love with Professor Reid and hate my father, so I couldn’t help myself. This is my first one-shot smut so I hope it doesn’t suck too badly. Enjoy my perversion EL O EL. Anyway, let me know if ya like it! 

Her little bambi eyes lit up in a way I knew I’d never be able to stop thinking about. The parting of her pouty lips made me want to press a big wet kiss on her mouth. But I couldn’t--She was a student. My student. My best student. Her elbows propped her up on the desk, curving her body so that my mind couldn’t go anywhere but daydreams of her in that same position grabbing onto bed sheets and mewling in submission. 

Our relationship didn’t extend past that, I was her teacher and she was my daydream. My latest vice had become mixing memories with self-tortourus fantasies. Fantasies where she sat naked on my lap, whimpering at my touch. I would treat her like she was made of glass and gold, light and then harsh, hot and then cold, loving and only then fucking. 

Today was the last day of the semester, she’d passed with flying colors and I had expected no less. I congratulated the class, but couldn’t help but say a couple extra words. 

“Special congratulations to the top scorer on the final. Miss, Y/N Y/L/N.”

Her eyes widened in excitement and then lowered in a façade of shyness, “Thank you sir.” 

“You went above and beyond this semester.” Her eyes met mine for the longest they ever had, 

“I’m proud of you.” Something about the way her shy smile had turned into a coquettish grin made me swallow hard, but it wasn’t just that look. She knew what she was doing. She always did.

“Class dismissed! Drink responsibly!” I said as the class packed up their things, “And if you’re underage, don’t drink at all!” I sat back down, tired but relieved. However when I saw that little thing prancing to my desk, I had all the energy in the world. 

“Dr. Reid?” she asked. She batted her eyelashes and played with the necklace that adorned her chest.

“Yes, Y/n?” 

“I, uh, thank you. Everybody said freshman year was gonna be tough,” I smiled at her breathy words, she spoke so eloquently. Like an articulate angel. She was an absolute angel. 

“And it was” She laughed, “But your class really made it better. You’re a wonderful professor. I’ve learned so much.” 

Oh, little girl. There’s so much more I could teach you. 

“Thank you. I have a summertime internship opportunity if you’re interested. There’s limited places, and I think you’d be absolutely perfect.” The outspoken girls brief silence confused me, as she shifted in what couldn’t be described as anything but anticipation, “Professor, are you really proud of me?” She spit out. 

I was stunned, “Why wouldn’t I be? You're great.” 

“I’m a tease, sir. That’s not something I expected a man like you to be proud of.” 

I closed my eyes and smiled to open them back up again. This girl was trouble, no question. But this, this was the kind of trouble that was just begging to be punished.

“You think you’re a tease?” 

She nodded. And I indulged. I shouldn’t have and I knew it. But she was a sweet peach, and I was just tall enough to rip her from her stem and consume her like it was the last fruit on earth. “Sweet girl.” I noticed her thighs squeezing together and the blown out black of her pupils. She wanted this just as bad as I did. “C’mere.” I turned my seat away from the desk. 

Like I knew she would, she obeyed and she sat on my lap. Her head immediately fell into my chest and she looked up at me. “You love to learn don’t you?” I asked her. She nodded, and I wanted nothing more than to take her right then. But I’d waited for this moment too long to do it in such haste. “I love to teach.” 

I kissed her neck like the sweet skin was on fire, light and quick but tender and wet. Her breath rose and fell harder each second my calloused hand got closer to the hem of her skirt, a skirt that was a couple inches too short for her own good.  Everything about her was like a pure poison, a tease for no reason. She knew she could’ve had me whenever she wanted, and yet like the coy and clever girl she was, waited. She waited knowing the longer she did, the more my infatuation with her would grow, and all the better the loving would be.  

My hands' slow descent up her skirt ended at the lace trim of her panties, where I traced the band west and east, watching her breath hitch as every time I trailed back slightly closer to her core. When I finally reached her center, dipping my fingers into her panties I was met with exactly what was expected. Soaking wetness and a whine. I couldn’t stop the chuckle that left me if I tried. I adjusted her so she sat perfectly, arms on my shoulders and legs spread, back to the wall and face to me. 

“Hey, sweet girl.” She rocked herself on my fingers, begging for them to just make their way inside. 

“Dr. Reid, ple-” 

I shoved two fingers inside of her more forcefully then I intended to, although the girl didn’t complain. She screamed. How responsive. 

I continued to stroke her insides, dipping my other hand into her skirt so I could use it to rub circles on her crescent. She was a star on the stage of my lap, and my gaze never left the sight of her gorgeous face contorting in desperation as adorable whimpers fell every time my fingers curled.

“Is it everything you imagined?” She asked. I was slightly taken a back, “F-fuck. Is it Daddy?” I slipped another finger in to shut her up but it didn’t work. “You’ve always wanted to, right? Hold me down and fuck me till I cry.” My fingers sped up and her walls clenched around me, clasping and gripping my fingers, and cries left her pouty little mouth. She had just come all over my fingers and was taunting me with my desperation. What the fuck. 

“Is that what you want?” 

“Hmm,” she giggled, “Please.” 

I shoved her off me to bend her over the wood of my desk.

I flipped her skirt up for a better look at the adorable little behind my sweet girl had. 

“Adorable. So adorable.” I slapped it hard, wanting nothing more than to see the red it would leave in its wake. 

A guttural moan left her mouth, “Shit!” 

“Aw, what’s up little girl? Is it not what you imagined? You’ve always wanted it, hm?” I spanked her again, harder. She whimpered slightly, clearly holding back whatever sounds the action were provoking. “Bent over my desk and being hit?” I hit her again, and she screamed this time. “Or did you think I’d just fuck you right away? “ The room echoed with two sounds, my hand slapping the skin of her ass, and the whine from her that always followed, “Hm? I didn’t hear you sweet pea.” I hit her twice then, as she finally submitted, “Daddy, please!” 

“What’d you want babe?”

“Please, fuck me.” 

I dragged the tiny piece of cotton that had now been soaked off her, preparing to gag her with them. 

“You being loud is not gonna cost me my career.” 

“Wait!” I stopped in my tracks, 

“I’m on the pill. Just so you know.” 

I smiled, “Okay.” Shoving the panties in her cute little mouth as she nodded eagerly in understanding. 

I unzipped my pants, finally freeing myself from the tightness that had me painfully strained. 

I gently made my way so my tip was at her entrance, as she wiggled into me, 

“Desperate little slut.” She moaned against her own fabric. 

I grabbed her by the waist to shove her into me, my cock hitting the back of her walls as she cried, I couldn’t fathom the pleasure that every nerve in my body was feeling. “You’re so tight. So wet..” I pounded into her with all the strength I had in the world. Each thrust eliciting a muffled moan or whimper or sob that just urged me to go in again harder. I grabbed and pushed her propped elbows down, so I had a hand on the back of  her neck, holding her down exactly like she said I wanted to. She was right. I did. “This is what we both wanted, huh?” 

“Little girl” I started, my thrusts into her beginning to get sloppier as her cries got louder, my voice was coarse, “Pretty little girl. You like this?” Between messy sobs of pleasure, she got out a pathetic little mewl of “Yes.” I snaked a hand around to pull her up and look her in the eyes and press a sweet kiss to her forehead before ripping the panties from her mouth and roughly pressing her back down on the desk. “I wanna hear you.” I fucked her with a passion I hadn’t ever in my life.

Her walls gripped me tighter then I thought was possible, and I knew the end was near. “Daddy.” She panted, ‘G’nna c-cum.” I ignored it “Aw. Pretty girl, you can wait for Daddy, can’t you?” 

“No!” she wined, “Please, just let me-Fuck! Daddy,” she sobbed, “Please.” My thrusts were getting rougher, messier, better. “Come.” I ordered. Her walls began to convulse and flutter, physically begging for me to join her. I got faster, fucking her as she came, lost in her pretty moans and gripping pussy. She bounced with my thrusts, sobbing as she said, “Cum, daddy, please.” The rapid pace stopped as those words left her mouth, I came into her as deep as possible, feeling her twitch as my sticky release coated her. Pulling out, I flipped her around to kiss her sweetly. She giggled into the kiss and looked at me in a way I’d remember forever. 

“Thank you, professor.” 

“Yeah little girl, anytime.” I began to help her clean up.

She lit up, “You mean that?” 

I nodded and helped her sit up, “Oh, yeah I do.” 

[lepusrufus]

The valley of fear ch. 3

Summary: goddammit Cass

---

Out of all the things that a ruthless murderer could be, a hopeless romantic was probably not only utterly ironic but also straight up horrifying. That, mixed with Daniela's apparent lack of understanding boundaries made for something that could only ever end up in a slow prolonged death.

Because Daniela thought she was in love with her. Of course she did.

And what else was Anita supposed to do other than nod and go along with it really? Just go along with it, as she always did, and make the best out of a dreadful situation.

Not that it didn’t have any perks though. For one, Daniela looked like she had just walked out of a dream. Anita was not a liar, at the very least not to herself, and she also wasn't blind, so admitting as much came easy enough. The pretty makeup and beautiful smile did their job at making one forget about the instances where she'd be walking down the hallway that led to the dungeons, soaked in blood from head to toe. For the most part.

On the flip side though, every waking hour felt like walking on eggshells, though a more fitting descriptor would be bear traps. Daniela seemed to have some very specific, and frankly unrealistic, ideas on romance, taken most likely from fiction rather than actual human interaction. Not like she could ever get an actual relationship with someone who fully reciprocated, given the enormous power imbalance between her and almost all who surrounded her. At least she seemed somewhat sure of herself, so most times it simply became a game of following along her movements. An odd kind of cat and mouse, but with a pretty façade on top.

And to top it off, a handful of the other maids seemed to have taken a dislike to her. Just perfect.

The sound of shuffling caught her attention.

It was early evening and the time to change shifts was nearing. Having already finished her duties, Anita decided to gather her things and meet the other maid on her way out. She was so beyond ready to have a hot shower and rest for a few hours, being constantly on edge and the work around the castle starting to slowly catch up to her in the form of aching muscles and a nearly ruined sleep schedule. Not the sleep schedule dammit.

“Fuck-”

Jagged yellowed teeth, stained a dark muddy red from old blood, snapped in her direction, ash grey skin stretching in a too wide snarl as Anita jumped backwards. The duster and broom fell to the floor with a clatter echoing around the otherwise quiet room, abandoned, as she tried to put more distance between her and the ghoulish monster that was supposed to be locked away in the dungeons. It was the very first time she came face to face with one of the moroaice and it wasn’t an experience that she was looking forward to. Its growls that bordered on agonized moans, the stench of old putrid blood that it brought with it, the half walk half crawl.

"No no no get away!"

Anita's words did nothing other than echo through the tall corridor she had chosen to run through, her pursuer not too far behind and making the sensation of claustrophobia raise with every dragged step. Where was she even going? She wasn’t as familiar with the castle as she probably should have been, so she was bound to run into a dead end, or an area she wasn't supposed to be in or, heavens forbid, one of the ladies. She doubted they would care and show mercy over the fact that she was being followed by one of their monsters.

She slammed a shoulder into the door to the next room, panic coursing through her veins, hand slipping once on the handle before getting a good enough grip to push on it.

No-

Locked.

No!

She whipped her head around, her own heavy breathing deafening out the gurgly growls from behind. She had to go back. Run in a different direction and away from this dead end and away from the ghostly monster chasing her and away from danger. But the way it was walking left no opening to the sides, the spindly arms ready to lunge and grab at whatever tried to sneak past, and the rusty sickle, looking like a crude replica of the ones belonging to the sisters, promising deep gashes. There was really no escaping it, so close at this point.

Anita had to try though.

In a last ditch effort, she bent down and dodged the filthy jagged talons coming her way, stumbling forward and away from the monster's back before regaining some semblance of balance. The successful manoeuvre almost put a smile on her face, until she felt a forceful yank on her blouse, claws pulling her back and off her feet, digging into skin where the fabric got torn. It made her lose her footing, legs giving way under her and then the rough feeling of the rug burning against her cheekbone was almost dizzying. The claws were now firmly latched onto her back, simultaneously feeling both slick and wet and like fire making its way into her flesh. Its other arm raised above its head, high in the air to gather the momentum necessary for a blow with the hooked rusty weapon.

In that flashing moment, it somehow reminded her of history class, when they all learned how a guillotine’s dull blade would three, four, five tries for it to fully sever the head, coming down and gradually cut away at flesh and bone until the spine was shattered enough to kill whatever poor bastard was sentenced to death. A slow painful death. It felt oddly similar to her, now, waiting for a rusted and brittle blade to cut away at her body until she was nothing but a mingled mess of blood and cut up flesh. There was no way this creature, badly coordinated how it was, was capable of taking her out with a single hit.

It took a long moment, at least what felt long to her hazy mind, to realize that she did not in fact want to die. Then came the realization that there was nothing she could do about it, which made her eyes prick with hot tears.

Her ears were ringing.

Or was it buzzing? It all increased in volume so much that it made her let out a pained whimper. But the blade never came to split her head open. In fact, it had clattered against the marble floor not too far, the weight on top of her also gone, the creature stumbling over her arms in a hasty shove and leaving behind spots that would certainly be bruised by the next day. When she gathered enough courage to give her surroundings a confused look, her vision was all but enveloped by black spots.

No, not black spots. Flies.

They were flying around the hallway like they were on a mission, gathered in a vicious swarm around the ghoul that was on her moments ago. It was fruitlessly trying to claw at them, but only managing to hit air. With each movement dozens of cuts would appear on grey flesh, causing black thick blood to flow and drip around. Then a good portion of the swarm broke off, similar to a flock of birds flying in sync, but a miniature version. It pushed its way into the open jaws of the creature, dozens upon dozens of small pairs of wings buzzing frantically as they disappeared down its throat, causing wet gurgles and muffled growls that were starting to border on painful, if the creature was even still capable of feeling anything. A shriek broke the cacophony just before the swarm made its exit, pushing past frail rotten tissue and coming out through the throat and abdomen. Black intestines hit the floor and blood splattered with it, on the furniture and on the walls and on Anita.

She turned her face towards the carpet, gagging at the foul smell of the blood. She wanted it off. Almost started clawing at her own skin in an attempt to get rid of it too. Until the frantic buzzing died down suddenly, replaced by the sound of heels approaching her and that's when Anita's brain finally kicked into gear. Flies.

She raised her eyes to look at whoever had saved her right when Daniela -of course it was Daniela- bent down to her.

"You poor thing," she cooed, voice just a tad too sweet while she pulled Anita to her feet.

It made her hiss in pain, eyes pricking with tears. Daniela's smile fell at the reaction, taking a better look at the torn and bloody fabric of her blouse. She looked like she was about to say something, whether angry or sweet was anyone's guess, but didn't get the chance as another voice came from down the hall.

"Oh there it was!" Cassandra walked towards them with an all too cheerful smile and another vaguely familiar maid in tow.

"What the fuck Cassandra?!" Daniela abandoned her grip on Anita's arm in favor of taking a few angry stomping steps towards her older sister. She looked almost seething.

"We were just trying to put one of Bela's masks on it. Thought it would make for some variety to scare-"

"You're supposed to keep them in the dungeons!"

The outburst gave the middle sister pause, brows knitting into an almost baffled frown. She must have been familiar, literally, with the fact that the redhead changed moods quicker than the wind up there in the mountains, but this seemed to confuse even her. Then she rolled her eyes, obviously over the conversation.

"Stop acting like Bela," she started and then her eyes narrowed upon landing on Anita. "Why do you even care? Only last week you almost slashed a servant's wrists because you were bored and in a mood."

Daniela's glare only turned up a notch. "Keep your pet projects where they belong," she almost growled out the words.

Cassandra didn't seem the least bit intimidated though, only rolling her eyes again and turning on her heels. "Whatever."

The other maid lingered for another few moments, eyes quickly darting between the youngest sister and Anita, before pulling out two small packs from a pocket and approaching Daniela with them.

"Rinse the wounds and make sure they're clean. You know how to use surgical tape, yes?"

The previous anger seemed to almost entirely dissipate with a deep sigh. "Yeah. Thanks, Nicole."

The whole interaction made Anita want to simply book it. She already felt dizzy and disoriented, her back disgustingly slick with blood and cheek throbbing painfully from where she had hit the floor. Her movements were on autopilot when Daniela grabbed her arm again and guided her through the same door she wanted to run through priorly, unlocking it with a key that had her family's crest on it. The next sequence of hallways and rooms barely registered, Anita being much more preoccupied with keeping pace so that Danela’s grip wouldn’t add to the bruises she was already going to have to deal with later. Until she was pulled into a sharp turn, breath hitching at the sudden movement, and they entered one of the many guest rooms.

"Sit," Daniela instructed her while almost pushing her on the bed.

Anita happily obliged, finally letting out a shuddering breath when she no longer was on her feet and instead on the soft edge of the mattress. She had half a mind to think about the blood stains she may leave on the sheets, but she frankly did not care. Instead she focused on getting her breathing under control and on the sound of running water coming from the adjacent bathroom, slowly replacing the faint ringing in her ears. It was oddly calming for a few moments, until it stopped and heels softly hitting against hardwood floors took its place. She followed Daniela's movements as she placed an oversized water bowl on the bedside table, not quite daring to meet her eyes while confusion seeped through her thoughts. What was Daniela doing?

She didn’t have too much time to linger on the question, as Daniela sat down beside her and grabbed the front of her shirt. A gasp and a surprised yelp mixed in flew past her lips when slender fingers started to effortlessly undo the buttons. To her surprise, Daniela actually stopped and looked up at her at the reaction.

"I'm just trying to get it out of the way to clean your cuts darling," she clarified, a coy smile making its way back on her lips but she didn’t make any further movements.

Anita blinked for a few moments, gulped, then nodded weakly. She wasn't exactly able to do it herself and why deny the seemingly well intentioned offer?

The blouse was fully unbuttoned and slid off her shoulders in a way that had Anita shivering from the chilly air on her back. Or at least that's what she would say if questioned.

After a brief glance at the swirling flowers tattooed on her chest, Daniela started to clean the cuts on her back with a wet towel, stopping briefly when the movement caused a pained jolt. Surprisingly enough, she did know how to be gentle, if the featherlight touches were of any indication. It made Anita forget for a moment that she was just as much of a ruthless killer under the surface. She almost wanted to forget when Daniela's hands were so criminally caring and pulled a sigh from her.

"Thank you," she started, voice barely above a whisper. "For saving me."

Daniela hummed in response while putting away the towel, now stained. "Can't have my lover getting killed now can I," she said matter of factly, that slightly sinister cheer slipping into her tone.

Of course not.

Thankfully the cuts were not too deep and a few bandages secured with surgical tape were enough to keep any further damage at bay. Daniela even planted a kiss at the back of her neck once she finished, causing a shiver to run down her spine. It wasn't much better when she turned Anita around and placed a hand on her face, leaning down impossibly close.

Do something or die, her self preservation instincts screamed. So she closed her eyes in anticipation, deciding that going along with her whims was worth staying alive for the time being. The kiss never came though, Daniela's lips moving instead to her cheekbone to leave a barely there peck. It made Anita hiss, pain radiating for a moment from the touch.

"It's only a scrap, should heal in a few days," Daniela told her bemused, then pulled back just enough to look at her face with an almost smug look in her eyes. "Were you expecting something else? Now aren't you just the sweetest."

So, just how far should her game of play pretend go, exactly? It really felt like a double edged sword. On one side, getting close to Daniela could mean at least being more comfortable and not having the threat of doom over her head, and she's always been the kind of person to want something better. But on the other side, it could also very well mean getting herself wrapped in a game she didn't fully know the rules of, its consequences being a prolonged and gruesome death.

What did she have to lose, anyways?

Her hand came to rest on top of Daniela's, careful and ready to back down at the slightest sign of disapproval. "You did just save me." A sliver of more confidence slipped in her tone. "Thought I'd give you something in return."

Golden eyes stared back at her, the smug façade slipping from her face and leaving space for an oddly timid excitement. She wondered if anyone had been brave, or foolish, enough to try to make any kind of move on the redhead in the past willingly. Well, as willingly as it gets.

Daniela closed the space between them again, lips meeting into a soft kiss that Anita reciprocated. It was more of a peck than anything, lasting only a handful of seconds and it felt as much as a first kiss as any other would. Tentative and even slightly awkward, leaving both of them blushing.

Oh so Daniela could blush.

It was oddly endearing from up close. Especially when the redhead averted her eyes and started toying with the wrinkled sheets until her fingers wrapped around the fabric of Anita's blouse and she grimaced.

"I'll ask Dalia to get you a new one. Can't exactly get a replacement now though," she said while holding up the garment with a frown.

"That's fine. Thank you."

She did not care about the blouse, she had a few others in her shared bedroom anyways. What she did care about though, even if she wouldn't admit, was the electric feeling still lingering on her lips.

[tommybaholland]

bnha boys in love [valentine’s edition💗]

featuring: midoriya, bakugo, todoroki, kirishima, kaminari, shinso, amajiki, and dabi

for anyone who might be feeling lonely today, enjoy a lil something from ur fav bnha boy who loves u! 

midoriya is one that gets nervous but tries hard to turn it into excitement when thinking about what he’s going to do for or with you on valentine’s day. as an aspiring hero, he always wants to put a smile on others’ faces and you’re no different. actually, you could be an exception because he loves you and those feelings are different from acts of altruism. rather, he wants to give you something straight from his heart. he’s always wanted to cook dinner for someone else, even after he’s always had his mom make him anything he wanted. he receives some basic guidance for her over the phone but he still has zero clue what he’s doing until kacchan stumbles upon him in the dorm kitchen struggling to cut onions. after some threats, yelling, and lots of arguing, the two manage to make a decent meal, actually a whole spread of food for the night. you’ve never had someone put that much thought or make dinner for you so its absolutely surreal when he presents it to you. the meal itself is really good and the night ends with the you both falling into food comas on the couch, relaxing into one another. 

bakugo seems very distant leading up to the day. he didn’t seem like the type to make a big deal out of valentine’s day. then again, he had never gotten many chances to celebrate it, except reluctantly with classmates and his parents. you didn’t mind how he felt about it but it was strange that you hadn’t seen much of him the past few days. on the day, you want to not think about his absence so you decide to get some training in. not an hour passes before bakugo storms in, “there you are, IDIOT! i’ve been looking everything for you! you’re coming with me..” he doesn’t allow you time to change or shower and instructs you to close your eyes as he leads you by the hand somewhere. he voice goes soft as he stops and tells you to open your eyes. you open them to see your favorite dessert sitting in front of you and a lit candle to complete the ambience. you’re in complete awe. you knew he could cook but had no idea he could bake but he explains that sato helped him with the recipe and how he almost gave up the whole thing because he couldn’t get it right the first few times. he admits it might still not be perfect but he loves you so very much and-- he doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before you’re silencing him with a kiss. 

todoroki could give you anything you wanted on a regular basis, being the son of a pro hero and all. it’s this ceiling effect that gets him in a bind for what to do for you because naturally he’d just spoil you extra. but something tells him he shouldn’t focus on the material items but rather the gesture, the sentiment, maybe even the experience. the beginning of the day is slow and lazy, with him coming to your room early in the morning to lay with you in bed. being the sleepy boy he is, he ends up falling asleep on you and you follow close behind. luckily, he set an alarm so you wouldn’t miss what he has planned. he takes you to a hot spring in a secluded location, where you (appropriately) share one together. it’s really nice and relaxing and a different type of alone you get to spend with him. he tries to rub your feet but you won’t let him because you’re ticklish and that starts a little tickle war. you surrender by wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as your ribs ache from laughing so hard. you stare at each other while catching your breath, lips slowly drawing closer. it’s all around a beautiful moment with such a pretty and kind-hearted boy. 

kirishima would save as much as he could to be able to spoil you on this day. he figures; that’s what it’s for, right? this man would try to go above and beyond for you any day because you’re so worth it to him but valentine’s is truly his day to shine. he decides to put together a scavenger hunt which involves one long tour of your previous dates, like the buffet restaurant and the arcade. he even sneaks in little nostalgic things during your time as a couple, like at the park where he learned how you liked to lay on your stomach while he’d draw little shapes on your back. it’s crazy but so fun and cute and special. it ends in a random backside of a building at UA and it’s familiar but you’re confused as to why he brought you here. “this was the place where you first told me you were interested in me..and i was so nervous but so flattered that someone as wonderful as you could like me.” and he goes on and on but he can’t help that he feels so much love for you, which is something he didn’t really think he’d get to experience. he’s oh so grateful to have you and so are you to have the manliest, cutest, sweetest boyfriend ever. 

kaminari feels the pressure of making your first valentine’s with him the best day you’ve ever had and tries to put on a front but fails. he loves that you’re so easygoing and chill with anything but he wants to make the day special. he wants to go above and beyond for you because you deserve it so much. he really likes the idea of an private outdoor dinner because the ambience is already pretty romantic. he sets it all up and when the time comes, he’s just too excited and can’t keep it a secret. he leads you outside as he tells you that he strung up all these lights but when you get out there, it’s real dark. he goes, “this is the best part.” he uses his quirk to simultaneously light up the small bulbs dangling from the strings. unfortunately, several of them blow a fuse and shatter, diminishing the full effect. you both laugh it off like normal and he says he was prepared for that, pulling out a lighter to light the candles on the table. it’s sweet and thoughtful, but don’t think you’ve escaped the ‘are you trying to romance me’ tiktok references. it’s okay though because a denki date night wouldn’t be complete without them. 

shinso is similar to bakugo when it comes to valentine’s, except he’s more so indifferent, rather than not caring about it. he’d be the type to ask you what you want or would like to do but he realizes that was a lost cause because of course you tell him it doesn’t really matter to you and you’d be happy with whatever. you’re so lovely to him everyday, despite his insecurities and trust qualms, so he silently promises to give you a day that you deserve. he tells you he has a surprise. it’s easy to hide as he takes you to your favorite cat cafe, a place where you two are regulars. there’s one cat there, a black and white tuxedo cat, that you are particularly fond of. he enjoys watching you smile as the cat rubs up against you and lays in your lap. you’ve completely forgotten about why you were there until he tells you that the cat is yours if you want him. you’re in complete disbelief but he tells you that he had arranged it with the owner of the cafe, who had noticed that the cat was very skittish and avoidant of other people, except for you. “and i told him, ‘yeah, me too.’” 

amajiki is nervous, of course. probably more nervous than on a regular basis. he knows he shouldn’t be because you’re so wonderful and accept anything he’s done for you with your sweet smile and kisses. he doesn’t like going out to public places too often but he wants to take you to several that you’ll both enjoy and he’ll feel somewhat comfortable. every place has something to do with nature: a zoo, an aquarium, and finally, a butterfly garden which he remembered you mentioning how you had always wanted to go to one. although he knows butterflies are gentle creatures, he isn’t so big on bugs in general, especially when there’s hundreds of them flying around him. you hold his hand the entire time, relaxing him as time goes by. you giggle as they land on the tips of his ears, making him smile as their delicate legs tickle his skin. he grins at your reaction as he pulls you closer. “nothing compares to your butterfly kisses, bunny.” he leans in to blink against your skin, his lashes brushing lightly like wings. you return the gesture to him, hugging him close to you as he pets your hair. he can be shy but your own little love language made up for it.

dabi has never been into something as trivial as a day about love. to him, it’s like any other day. but he never expected that he’d be scrambling around the city to find the perfect flowers to give to you. it’s the least he could do but it could never make up for everything you’ve done for him. you’ve made him feel loved and wanted; having proven it by sticking by him this entire time, such as the fact that he’s now a wanted criminal. he has to be discrete. this doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have standards and wouldn’t give you just any flower that was thrown out or forgotten. he starts to get frustrated as he stalks around in a forest and lets his quirk burn off a little steam, catching the trees and foliage into blue flames. then he sees it. you’re a little on edge when he gets home, worried that something had happened after you hadn’t seen him all day. he reminds you what day it is and then holds up what he found: a lonely flower, singed a bit on the ends of the petals but intact and tall. he explains that it reminded him of you, your relationship, what you mean to him. it’s rough around the edges and imperfect but resilient and strong.

happy valentine’s day from bnha night! any lovely requests may enter here..

[choptop-sawyer]

Hi again 😎💫 im here to dig at ur brain again bcs i. M. Aaa sorry i just love ur stuff but. I have this kinda rly specific storyline type hc area and I'd love to hear any hcs you might get from it if its at all jr thing. But um I keep sometimes thinking back to the idea of kinda, vaguely growing up in the same area as the Sawyers, being childhood friends (and being stupid 2gether, running arount the countryside, ditching school & playing in corn fields) -

But then having to leave in your late teens to school / whatever (I mean 😎 my sappy ass also thinks abt mutual pining w Bobby but you know...... nearly unrelated.......)

Then, later on (Bobbys now Chop Top, Nubbins is..... dead I guess but also >:( maybe not, the family is up to being a mess etc) returning to town to take a break from work or whatever. N meeting up w the family again, i mean, oblivious to the bullshit they get up to but.... yk

This is a bit rambly i should probs have waited to sleep but I can't get the thought of returning to the Sawyer door wearing Bobbys tie dye sweatshirt that hr borrowed u years ago and all the impact of being a former family member bc u were also kind of an outsider or whatever but also the drama of leaving so uwu sksjd

This got so long. All i wanted to ask is: sawyer family headcanons for a childhood friend returning to town after being away for years. Rip.

THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS god I love the image too of just standing in the doorway,, you're not home, you've changed a little bit, but you still fit into some of the old aspects you know so well they fit you and cover you.

Actually this is great because that fic that I swear exists has pretty much the same premise but!!! I can make this one less tragic than that one. 😎

(This is mostly Chop Top n you centric please don't mind)

Also this timeline is all fucky. I think that as soon as Chop came home from Vietnam the Sawyers had basically uprooted themselves and were living in North Texas because of the... Hardesty incident. But like can we pretend that that never happened they r still there in Newt? Just for this. (Hope you like it!)

Chop Top's Childhood Friend Returns

You don't think you would have turned out the way you did without the Sawyers.

They were the main element of your childhood, a mystery that you had to be a part of. A mystery, because they were closed off. Mistrustful. The sickness of small towns carried to the extreme, because they were mostly alone. The loneliness made them more miserable, the misery made them more isolated. A cycle, a legacy.

So it was a a miracle that you were even allowed to be apart of some of it, but you attribute that miracle to Bobby.

He seemed to think you were as much of mystery as what you thought the Sawyers were. Two kids looking through a small window into another world. But he liked that. He liked that you were something different, something new. From beyond that small world of loneliness that lived in the house.

You learned quickly that he had a desire for anything beyond that world. So he'd invite you out with him, when you were kids, to run free in the tall grass, when you got older, to drive with him to places unknown. He had a knack for finding these odd places, and he always brought you along with the music cranked up loud on the radio.

Bobby told you many times that he wanted to see the world. He had this lust for life that went beyond the restlessness of the young. He also said that he wanted to bring you along with him when he saw the world. You didn't ever mention how that always made your heart skip a beat when he said that.

Maybe you should have. But the past is the past and you can't change that.

You knew the other Sawyers too, but Bobby tended to avoid them sometimes. But occasionally, you got to hang out with them.

Nubbins was an enigma. You didn't think Nubbins was his real name. But that's the only one you heard from him, but the name situation was the least confusing thing. He was the most open person you knew. And yet you couldn't understand him, and decided at some point that you wouldn't ever. But he was fun. His energy was infectious, if he was filled with joy, you couldn't help but laugh with him too. That was Nubbins, so absent of any purposeful deceit that he was almost a mirror, you saw yourself around him, sometimes it was uncomfortable, but other times it was fun.

Bubba was the opposite. He seemed to be legitimately wary of you. Bobby once told you that Bubba didn't like to leave the house, ever. He stayed and did the chores. You wondered if he minded, being stuck with all the chores but Bobby said he didn't. It was comforting for him. Always having something set to do. You only saw him once. Nubbins had made him tag along when he needed him to hang some things from a tree. Bones from indeterminate animals, a clock with a nail through it. You don't think Nubbins actually needed Bubba to reach the branches (he climbed pretty well) but he just wanted his little brother to see his work. Bubba didn't make eye contact with you the entire time. He was wholly focused on his task of helping Nubbins. But he was gentle when he helped his brother, careful, and for that you liked him.

Drayton was... well. He was the one Bobby argued with the most. He was his brother, but with how much age between the two, it was almost hard to believe sometimes. Drayton was the one that everybody in Newt knew the most. People liked him well enough, but they said he was odd behind his back. He knew that. You don't think he trusted anything outside the insular world he and his family had existed in for years, and was at odds with Bobby because he didn't get why Bobby wanted anything to do with the world outside.

Oftentimes you would see Bobby after he and Drayton got into it. He'd be fuming, but he'd smile when he saw you. You'd leave with him whenever he came to you. These adventures were the most fun you had when you were there.

The other times you'd go off were when he'd convince you to skip school. Bobby never went himself. He didn't get the idea of all those kids sitting in classrooms for hours, doing nothing but writing and listening. Why do that when you can find things out for yourself? Get into some trouble? In his mind, he was saving you from a very boring thing.

You two knew the area around Newt well. The fields and the flat expanses were the best kind of playground. Your dreams were still set in them. A kind of sunshine filled melancholy.

Bobby told you things in the grass. His dreams yes, but his own thoughts. On music, on late night radio, on movies, on you. He perhaps thought of you as wonderful as voices on the radio, stars on the screen. He never told you that though. But your name was never far from his mouth when Bobby talked about the things he loved.

You and him loved each other as much as two kids who didn't know how to could. He was always on your mind now, with not much tangible objects to remember him with. A photograph taken by Nubbins, your faces blurred because you were laughing. A button, the pin on the back bent. A sweatshirt, which he tie dyed himself, and gave to you one night. The colors were faded. You never did get to return it.

The years away did nothing to lessen thoughts of him. No, they just blurred all together now, and the stream of the sunshine filled melancholy was almost endless. You needed a break. There was only one place you could think of that could help you with that.

So you came back. All things led back to this place eventually. Newt was dying, or dead. Didn't you see somewhere that when a ship went down, it took everything with it? You didn't want to stay for long. But you had to see all of them, you had to know that they were all not these strange figures you had dreamt up.

You went right to the house. You'd never actually been allowed inside, Bobby just always said something along the lines of 'Grandma and Grandpa are napping upstairs' or 'there's a mess' (never mind that he could care less usually about messes.) But you figured he had had a good reason. Maybe he was embarrassed.

When you knocked on the door, your heart was pounding. And that was all. Nothing happened, no indication that anyone was there. You waited, the sweatshirt was too hot but you didn't want to take it off.

Maybe you should come back another time. You were just about to turn around and leave when the door burst open, almost whacking you in the face. And there (you couldn't believe your eyes you couldn't this was a dream) he was.

Bobby had a hammer raised over his head, grinning, he was poised to swing it down, but then he saw you and he felt as if he was in a dream too.

It's been so long. He thought he made you up, a dream to carry him through misery, and you looked the part, even as you stood before him on the doorway. The light of the setting sun shone behind you, heat waves shimmered in the dusk, and you... you.

Facing each other, you stood, just staring. Over head the sky grew colorful, in the fields the grass whispered in the wind. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. Bobby dropped the hammer and grabbed for your face, and he held it, fingers digging in so tight it hurt.

"H-hey you." He said, and fell to his knees, releasing your face. You numbly touched the marks his fingers left. Bobby still looked like a man who had seen a ghost.

You called his name, and his eyes looked lost, like he hadn't heard it in a long time. He looked up at you, and you could really get a good look at him. His face was leaner, he looked sickly and wiry, but his eyes were just as you remembered. You sank down to the porch to sit with him.

"Fuck... FUCK I didn't... I- I thought ya'd forgotten all about me... uh.. uhm. Fuck! I mean, r-really! Turnin' up out of the blue like you're some kinda... ghost or whatever... WHOA man... like, ya here to return m-my, my sweatshirt? You're wearin' it, you can keep it! You look better in it anyway... heh, fuck." He rambled on and on, hands tensing and twitching as if they were moving to touch you again, just to reaffirm your existence. Did he know how glad you were to see him? Did he know that you hadn't felt right for the longest time being away?

You forgot all about the sweatshirt, the hammer he had raised with a sadistic grin. You reached out and held one of his twitching hands, and he stilled and stopped talking. There was a peace now.

It didn't seem possible for your heart to feel this full. But it was. And by god, if this wasn't the best decision you made in your life to visit your old hometown, if only just for this moment.

Bobby stood, with your hand still in his, pulling you up. He smiled at you, and you knew you still loved him, and in your deepest heart, you knew he loved you too.

But this time around, maybe you and him could love each other right.

[wiypt-writes]

Rock ‘N’ Roll People In A Disco World

Part 2- Panic At The Disco

Intro: You head to the hospital as Paul’s life hangs in the balance and as you wait for news, you start to reflect on the early days of your relationship.

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: So, you migh recognise a few familiar names/faces in this as well- I can assure you this isn’t an Avengers/Diskant AU, just a way for me to pay tribute to a few of our faves…because, why not!

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 1

"All units, we have a possible 2-4-5 in progress at 4223 E Palm, South of Figueroa and 1st. Unit responding is requesting back up, 11-9-9, Code 3."

"Unit 613 responding, Code 3."

The call went out over dispatch and you felt a slight relief at the fact support was on its way. You took a deep breath, held firm, your weapon poised as your partner stood next to you. 

"LAPD, drop the weapon and come out with your hands up. We will fire." Officer Barton, a long time veteran on beat called out. "Panny, hit the porch."

You nodded and walked the short steps, bracing yourself against the stucco near the jam. 

"Come on Garcia, your old lady called it in, I have back up coming, bro. You don't want this to go down worse than it is," Barton shouted. "Don't make my Rookie work hard today, man."

Lights and sirens filled your ears and soon a second unit had arrived on scene. The suspect, now surrounded, soon surrendered, his weapon dropped to the ground as he came out of his home with his hands up. 

The second unit to respond to the call was helping Barton with the arrest while you headed inside to check on the girlfriend who'd called it in. She was beat up and bloodied, a bullet graze across her upper left arm. Paramedics were treating her as you wrote down everything she could tell you for the report to be filed later. 

You gave the woman’s hand a little squeeze as you promised her you’d be right back and headed outside where you saw Barton stood talking to one of the duty sergeants from the second unit and another officer who you hadn’t seen before.

"She's requesting an escort, both medics are male," You said to Barton.

“Okay.” Barton nodded. “You good to take it or do you want me to call back and request someone take over?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I’m good, I could use the overtime. It’s no problem.”

"Rookies, always looking for the pay out," Barton laughed at you and you snorted before you looked back at the house.

“Well, to be honest I wanna make sure she’s okay, she’s beat up pretty bad.”

"Yeah, well this isn't their first 240 but now, it's bumping to a 273D, if she keeps the chargers." Barton nodded. “Okay, go with her and I’ll file the initial report when I get back. You can add your details to it later.”

“See, we’re not always money grabbing assholes.” The officer you’d never met before turned his eyes to the sergeant who met his look with one of his own. “Some of us rookies are simply driven by our social conscience.”

As the two men looked at one another it was clear that the statement meant something, and you could probably take a good guess that the officer in question had also had his fair share of rookie jokes at his expense. It was part and parcel of being a newbie.

“Oooh I’m sensing a little bit of tension there, Barnes!” Barton looked at the sergeant who scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“He’s a wise guy, thinks he’s funny.”

“I don’t think it, I know it.” The buzz cut man shrugged. “Why else does everyone laugh at me when I walk into a room?”

At that you couldn’t help a little chuckle of laughter as your eyes looked over the hood of Sargent Barnes' black and white and caught the name plate of the wise ass, before your eyes flicked up to his face. A pair of shades were pushed up on top of his shorn light brown hair, revealing a pair of blue eyes which were twinkling slightly with good humour. He was clean shaven with a strong jawline, and a pretty handsome profile with high cheekbones and a smattering of freckles over his nose. Two strong arms folded over a broad chest, as he stood tall, a good inch or so above Sergeant Barnes and a fair few over you. 

His eyes caught yours, a smirk curling in his lips as he clearly thought you’d been checking him out.

Which, to be fair, you had, and all in all, he was pretty damned hot.

"Don't I know you?" He asked, his hands unfolding from across his chest and coming to rest on his utility belt, either side of the buck.

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head.

“I’m sure I do. I never forget a pretty face.”

You laughed at the blatant pick up line and looked at Barton who was watching, his eyebrow raised. You shook your head and turned back to make some sly quip of your own before the medic interrupted the exchange, telling you they were ready for transport. You nodded before once more switching your attention back to the three men around you.

“It’s been a pleasure, gents.” You smiled, nodding to both Barton and Sergeant Barnes before you turned to look at the other man. "Diskant.”

He feigns a pain to his chest with a hard slap of his right hand over his heart. "Uh, you do know me! That hurts."

“Read your name tag.” You shrugged and with that you turned and left.

The red and blue lights of the black and white bouncing off the concrete exterior of UCLA Medical Centre as you arrived brought you out of your memory. Officer Weiss opened the door for you and escorted you inside where the waiting room had been cleared and you were met with the somber faces of not only Captain Biggs, but Paul's Captain, Sam Wilson. But what brought your world crashing down on you for the second time that night was seeing your own Captain, Steve Rogers, waiting for you. Wilson had to have called him in.

"Steve," your voice quivered as your Captain and friend wrapped an arm around you. Sam, too, pulling you close. "What...." you couldn't even get the words out, each syllable choked back by the closing of your throat, sobs threatening to escape. 

"We don't know, not yet. The call came in as an officer down, unit in pursuit. Medics arrived and called in code blue, 10-45C GSW to the neck. As soon as they arrived he was wheeled into emergency surgery," Captain Biggs explained. 

The air left your lungs at the news and you near hit the floor, both Rogers and Wilson catching an arm, and had you been more with it, you’d have clocked the worried look that your Captain shot Sam. He'd known you since your training at the academy, his eye on you for SWAT from the get go, and never had he seen your lose control in such a way. You hadn’t on the job, not once. It was something you prided yourself on.

Biggs grabbed a chair from the wall behind him, where a dozen lined the sterile white space, and allowed you to flop into it. Your hands were shaking, legs bouncing on the balls of your feet, the tore up converse you’d slipped on squeaking a little on the clinical floor. You’d dressed in such a haste, your skinny jeans being grabbed straight back off the top of the hamper for you to put on, one of Paul’s hoodies being pulled on over a tight camisole. Whilst you hadn’t given a single thought to what you were wearing, clearly your subconscious had wanted to be near him, and you were glad as you pulled the dark grey item round you tighter, breathing in his smell. And you were reminded of the first time you were able to really be close enough to smell his cologne or deodorant, a smell that was uniquely Paul Diskant. 

It was Friday and your shift had just finished. It was the first time your rest days had fallen over a Saturday and Sunday, and you were making the most of it. A few from your team were heading to Jack's Bar for a few beers and, you suspected, a lot of shots and probably karaoke later, apparently that’s how your team nights went down.

You’d been there a few hours and your rounds had all gotten out of sync, as was always the case when everyone had had a few, so you stood up to head to the bar to get yourself a refill, cringing at the cat-screeching masquerading as singing which was ringing around the room. You found a space, placing your empty glass on the smooth wood of the bar and stood waiting for the bar tender. You hadn’t been there long when someone sidled in next to you, their elbow lightly brushing your arm and you glanced up to see the handsome, buzz-cut officer that had attended the 273D you’d dealt with in the week.

“Did you bring your cuffs?” He asked and you frowned, looking at him.

“What? Why?”

He jerked his head over his shoulder in the direction of the woman singing, “because she’s murdering Shania Twain and whilst she may feel like a woman, personally I feel that as police officers, it’s our duty to prevent crimes of this nature.”

You groaned out a laugh, “Jesus, you’re terrible”

“My name isn’t Jesus, but give me a chance and I’ll make you say ‘Oh God’,” he shot you a wink, “how’s that for terrible?”

You laughed and shook your head, cocking it slightly to one side as you studied him for a second. And then, you decided on a little joke of your own. “It’s Disco, right?”

He groaned, dropping his head in a dramatic sigh. “Diskant. Come on, you read my name tag, remember?”

"Diskant."  You shrugged, "Close enough."

He chuckled, nodding to your drink that was down to the foam at the bottom of the glass, "what are you drinking?"

"Beer," you replied.

"Any beer? Or..."

"The Heff," you nod to the taps.

Diskant waved the bartender over, "Jack, can we get another round, one for me and one for Officer...."

"Y/L/N."

"Officer Y/L/N. Whatever she's drinking."

"It's Paul by the way," he smirked at you while dropping some cash on the bar top as Jack returned your beers.

"Thanks for the beer, Disco," You winked and walked off to join your partner and the rest of the shift team.

“Woah, it’s like that? I buy you a drink and you bail, without even telling me your name?” He scoffed and you turned to look at him over your shoulder, giving him a smirk.

“Yeah," you shrugged, and when you turned away you could feel his eyes burning into your back.

Later, you saw him laughing in a full body tilt, eyes crinkled and his smile exploding. His partner, whom you'd recognized again as Barnes, had said something ridiculous causing the table to erupt.

You headed to the bar and ordered a round of shots for your team and another beer to chase it. But sent one over Paul's way, with a note on the napkin.

When the waitress took the beer to him, she placed the napkin down first, making sure he saw the scribbled note.

'Now we're even. - Y/N'

You watched as he read the note, a huge smile breaking over his handsome face and he turned, bright eyes searching the bar. When they fell on you, he arched his brow and raised his beer in thanks. You gave a sharp jerk of your head to show you’d seen and turned back to your team.

From then on, he was a persistent little shit. He'd somehow figured out your shift patterns, catching you in and out of the doors to the station as you'd be coming off shift and he starting his. Barton liked to give you shit for it as he'd always walk with you out, calling Diskant "your lost, little puppy-dog" and the unit were quick to catch on. It was all in good fun, until one day, you'd worked a tough shift; chasing down a couple of suspects and catching yourself up on a fence, gashing your arm good. Medics treated you at the scene, but told you that it required stitches. You finished you shift anyway and like clockwork, there he was walking in as you were out.

"Hey Y/N, you okay?" He'd expressed concern as your face was blatantly displaying your discomfort and mood which wasn’t great.

You were tired, irritated and in pain, now that the day was over, you wanted to just go home, so you seemed to snap in reply, "What the hell is it gonna take for you to just go away?"

Your response took him back a bit as he raised his hands in defense."Whoa, relax," his voice was soft and careful.

You sighed and stepped out of the way of the different people coming in and out the doors. He followed. "I'm sorry, that was shitty. It's just been a really long day."

"It’s okay, I get it. Look, I'm off today, I was coming in to get some stuff I left in my locker. I'm sorry if I've crossed a line somehow."

You thought to yourself for a moment. He hadn't crossed any line, not one that made you uncomfortable. You had your own reservations about dating someone from work, but it wasn’t like no one else did it, hell, half the entire force seemed to be married to one another, and if you were honest, you were actually kind of attracted to him and you found his flirty way of things to be fun and you liked it.

“No, you didn’t, like I said, bad day.” You shook your head. “I gotta head to the clinic for some stitches, and if I’m honest, I’m not a huge fan of needles so...."

He frowned “you hurt yourself?”

"Got hung up on a chain link chasing a perp through an alley. Finished the shift with the bandages from the medics, now I gotta take care of it."

"Do you... errr...", he moved out of the way of someone leaving the building and scratched the back of his neck, "do you need a lift up there or something, I got nothing else on."

"I could use a ride, sure," you shrugged, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Okay, well gimme two minutes to grab something out of my locker and I’ll be with you in a second.”

You headed out of the way of the various traffic in and out of the station and perched on the low wall that surrounded the parking lot. True to his word, Diskant emerged a few minutes later, sliding his shades down from his head to his eyes, a bright pink gift bag in his hand and for some inexplicable reason, you felt your heart sink at the sight of the item in his hand, it was clearly for a woman.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” You asked, nodding to it as he stopped in front of you. A smirk crossed his face and a brow arched over the top of his wraparounds.

“Is that your way of asking me if I have a girlfriend?” He quipped and you hastily shook your head, lying through your teeth.

“No, I was just…making conversation. Besides, you might be gay for all I know.” You finished lamely and he snorted.

“Well, I’m not, and it’s for my Mom. It’s her birthday tomorrow and she’s a pain in the ass for finding her presents in my room or wherever I hide them. That and I actually only picked it up yesterday and forgot about it.”

"None of my business." You shrugged and at that he sighed, looking down before he glanced at you, chuckling.

"You asked, sweetheart."

The pet name had you feeling a little warm around your neck. Thankfully, Diskant then led you to his car, the conversation moving swiftly onwards as you explained in a little more detail how you’d gotten your injury. By the time you’d finished you were out of the parking lot and had joined the steady stream of traffic on the main road.

“You should count yourself lucky that it was only your arm.” Paul mused, his thumb tapping the steering wheel. “One of the first shifts I ever did ended with the guy I’d been partnered with straddling a piece of razor-wire.”

“Ouch.” You winced and Paul wrinkled his nose.

“Lot of blood and screaming.” He sniffed. “Mind you, every cloud and all that, he said it would save him and his wife a fortune on a vasectomy.”

You blinked before your mouth fell open in disbelief and you scoffed, shaking your head. “Bullshit.”

“I swear down…”

“Don’t believe you, Disco.”

“Well, I’m offended on two counts. First that you think I’m untrustworthy and second you know that’s not my name.” He shook his head, hanging a right.

You shrugged, “I like it, it suits you.”

“I used to get that all the time at school.” He shrugged, “fucking everyone used to sing that damned D-I-S-C-O song in the halls.”

“Okay, now that’s in my head.” You smirked, and you opened your mouth to sing but he cut you off.

“Just, no.”

You laughed and took a deep breath. “Well, if it makes you feel any better my team call me Panny, short for Panic. On account of the fact I never seem to.”

At that he snorted, “yeah, I’m not calling you that, that’s, fucking awful!”

You let out a low chuckle, “Y/N’s fine.”

“Mind you,” he stole a quick glance at you before his eyes went back to the road. “Panic at the Disco, not a bad band.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled a little. The conversation flowed with little interruption or awkwardness and once you arrived, your time at the clinic seemed relatively fast. You'd figured he'd left as you'd said goodbye to one another when you'd entered the clinic but to your surprise, and catching you a bit off guard, he was still waiting. 

"You didn't have to wait." You smiled at him and he shrugged.

“How else you gonna get back for your car?" His eyes flicked down, noting the clean wound and stitches in your forearm.

“Uber?” You shrugged and he paused, before he took a deep breath.

“Okay, you could have but my mom taught me never to leave a lady in need of help.”

"I was in there for an hour," You chuckled.

“Yeah, and now I’m kinda hungry, are you hungry?"

“Diskant…”

"There's a little place I know where we get some great quick food."

"And if I say no?"

"I'm a gentleman and no is no, I’ll take you back to the lot and you get in your car.” He paused, "and then I'll go home and weep into my pillow as I deal with your rejection."

You laugh loudly, genuinely amused, "fine, take me to dinner."

"Woah, I didn't say anything about dinner. I said food."

"Fine, food, let's get some food."

With a grin he gestured for you to lead the way and you headed out of the medical centre back to his car.

It turns out the place he’d been meaning was the Santa Monica Pier. And the food he had in mind was hot dogs and fries, which suited you absolutely fine.

"Alright, I gotta hand it to you, this is a pretty good hot dog and the beer isn't half bad," You tilted back the drink and smiled. "But, it doesn't beat Coney Island."

"Never been," he shrugged, "so I'll have to take you at your word."

"What else do you take me for? Obviously, you're swindling your way into something."

"I resent that accusation, Y/N."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you just suckered me into a date." You teased and he paused, turning to face you. “And, seeing as you said that was what it would take to get you to leave me alone…” “No, this is not a date.” He cut you off, shaking his head.

 “Hmm, just the two of us, you bought me food, pretty sure it counts as a date.” You wrinkled your nose, your tone flirty and Paul shook his head once more.

“Nope. Absolutely not. There’s a vital element missing.”

“What?”

“I haven’t kissed you.” He signed dramatically. “So, I’m afraid that if you want me to count this as a date then you’re gonna have to lay one on me.”

“Oh my God-“ You burst out laughing, “You are-“

“Hey, I don’t make the rules, Y/N!”

“So, to be absolutely clear, if I kiss you this counts as a date?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Well,” You popped a shoulder, stepping a little closer to him, your eyes flicking from his to his lips, “what the hell.”

You brought your lips to his, a littler firmer than you'd thought but the feel of his mouth against yours was soft and in a way delicate and as you began to pull away, his arm looped around your rib cage and pulled you back in for a longer, deeper kiss that if you'd been honest with yourself, made your stomach tilt and your toes curl. The way his tongue dipped into your mouth was delightful, the salty hoppy taste of the beer and fries you were sharing still an essence in his mouth. 

Breathless, you pulled away, “You gonna leave me alone now?”

“Not a chance.” He chuckled and leaned in again for a third kiss. 

"Y/N..." the voice calling out to you was familiar but your head was pounding and nothing but a fog had filtered over you. Tearfully coming out of your memory, you looked up to see Dorothy, Paul's mom standing before you, her husband Jim in the background talking to Sam. 

"Hi," you croaked and stood from your chair. She immediately wrapped her arms around you in a tight embrace. "I'm sorry... I didn't..."

"Its okay, Jimmy called us after Sam had called us both." She tearfully explained. "We came as soon we'd heard." She nodded to James Barnes, Paul's former beat partner who was talking with Jim, Sam and now Steve. 

"Dotty, I... I'm scared." You cried and she took hold of you again. Together you cried until Jim came and hugged you both, his eyes tearful but his demeanour strong. As a force veteran himself, Big Jim Diskant knew all too well how these things could happen but never did he want to believe it'd be his own son wounded in the line of duty. 

Barnes was quick to hand you a tissue and you accepted with a sad, soft smile in thanks. "He's gonna pull through, doll. Just you watch. You can't get rid of him that easy."

Your quivering lip turned to a wobble until you saw the doctor emerge from the double doors that led into the body of the hospital. His scrubs were bloodied and you feared the worst as he called out, "family of Paul Diskant."

The world around you felt like it was moving at a snail's pace, your stomach in your throat as you, Dotty, Jim and those there to comfort you all made their way to the doctor. 

"We've moved him into the ICU. He's critical, however, I'm hard pressed to say stable. He's not out of the woods yet. The bullet hit his carotid artery which supplies the brain, face and neck and while we were able to remove it, he's lost a lot of blood and I feel it's best to keep him medically sedated until some real healing takes place. That's all up to him on how long that will take and how his body works. Unfortunately, until he wakes up, we won’t be able to determine if there will be any long lasting damage due to the loss of blood to the brain. You should know, we nearly lost him once during the procedure and I know he coded twice before arrival. He's a fighter, that's for sure. For now, he just needs time."

"Can we see him?" Dotty asked, the words not able to leave your lips. 

"You can. One at a time," the doctor replied. "ICU rules. I can take the first of you up with me now."

Dotty very quickly turned to you, "go on." You looked at her like a deer in headlights. Jim nodded in agreement with his wife. 

"Follow me," the doctor nodded to go with him and as he did, he handed you a small plastic bag. "We had to cut it off. I'm sorry."

He placed the bag containing Paul's St. Christopher medal in your hand. It was covered in blood, no doubt from what had happened and the weight of it felt heavier than it ever had before in your hand as you joined the good doctor on the lift up.

It had been a month into your relationship when your parents decided to head out for a week trip to New York, your dad making good on his promise to treat your mom for their anniversary. That meant that you and Paul were playing house for the week.

After seeing them off, you'd proudly tidied up and made sure you pampered yourself before your date night to kick the week off. Fridays post shift were usually spent at Jack's but, you were off and Paul and Barnes were already day shift, as if the stars had perfectly aligned for tonight. Your gut was telling you that after a month of heavy, very heavy petting, absolutely breath-taking make out sessions and a few down the pants moments, tonight just might be the night things would change for the two of you. And if not tonight, then hopefully while the two of you were shacked up for the next five days.

A few hours of primping, preening and a ridiculously relaxing bath, setting fire to that very diamonds and pearls side of you, you picked out your nicest lingerie, a little all black set of bra and panties that hid lines well in your selected sleek black dress. Paul had said the two of you were going for a nice dinner, and he promised it was truly a nice dinner, not like the last he'd said was nice and you two laughed your way through burgers at the Beach Hut. He was going to pick you up at five, and you needed to be ready.

Punctual as always, your doorbell rang and there he was, duffle in one hand, flowers for you in the other. He always brought you flowers on your dates and you loved the old fashioned in him that clearly was a product of his parents love story.

You smiled at him from behind red lips and smoky eyes, your hair down and straight. "Hey! Thank you!" You took the outstretched flowers and welcomed him in. 

"Wow," he whispered, getting the full view of you as he stepped inside the doorway. "Sweetheart, you..., wow."

“You said nice... so if you’re taking me to some dive, Disco, when I’m dressed like this there’s gonna be trouble.”

"I promise, it's nice." Dropping his overnight bag next to the stairs, he followed you into the kitchen as you put the flowers in a vase. You turned from the island and his lips were on yours. "You do look beautiful, but if you want to get into trouble, I've got my cuffs in the car." 

You didn't miss the fire in his eyes and the feeling between your legs. “I thought only bad girls get the cuffs?”

"Maybe we should see how bad you can get."

"You're gonna have to feed me first."

“Damn, you drive a hard bargain.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss, fingers scratching at the nape of his neck, "You think that's hard, you should..."

His finger covered your lips, "don't, don't finish that sentence or we'll never make dinner. THAT I can promise."

You smirked and pulled away from him fully, grabbing your hand bag off the entry table, "I'm ready, let's go."

The meal was divine, expensive and rich in place and taste, you dined on steaks and lobsters, Paul pulling out all the stops for such a new relationship and start of a fun weekend. You didn't mind, but you also knew that you'd have been fine with something simple too. 

"You know you didn’t have to spend so much, I’d have laid on my back for a sub," you sighed contently as he drove you two back to yours. 

"Well, in that case, fuck it, next time it's Subway."

"Is that what this was? You buttering me up so I'd sleep with you, Disco?"

“No, that’s...” he stopped and shrugged, “did it work?”

All you did was smirk back at him. From then, until tires skidded into the driveway, Paul drove at lightspeed, making a snarky comment about needing a red light for the dash or wishing he was in his squad car because he couldn't get you home fast enough. You were barely in the door before he was all over you, hands tangled through your hair, you kicking your shoes off at the bottom of the stairs. His strong arms and big hands lifted you off your feet as you clawed at him, your legs wrapping around his slender waist while he carried you up the stairs. It was a mix of breathy sounds and lots of tongue until your back hit the lamp at the landing stair, causing it to tilt, and the bulb to break. 

Shit," Paul cursed against your lips. 

"I'll get that later," you replied, continuing to fight for dominance in your kiss. 

He managed to get you to your room, but your pace slowed down as you entered, the heat lowering to a simmer unlike the two horny teenagers you’d both been in the stairs and hall. Your toes curled into your plush carpet as he set you down. Breathless and chests heaving, you kissed each other softly and slowly as your fingers unbuttoned his shirt, trying to hide your nerves. Your nails raked down the chest of his crisp white tee he wore underneath. You could feel his heart under your palm. 

Your eyes looked into his and you saw deep and beautiful blue pools staring back at you, a soft twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. He took a half breath and his lips covered yours, his tongue slowly rolling over your top lip to pull you in. It made your stomach drop in need, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to close the space between you. 

His big hand splayed over your right ass cheek and held you there against him while the other hand cupped your face. If anyone were to walk in, they'd think you were one person, the two of you were so close to one another. Then you felt his hand trail over the curve of your backside, closer and closer to the start of your zipper. You felt your dress grow looser as he pulled the little metal piece over the teeth of its track. 

His lips trailed over your skin, and you could feel his heart now racing through his pulse point in his neck. Your eyes met his as he pulled away a second, "me too," You whispered.

A breathy chuckle left his lips and you pulled your dress away from your body, allowing the fabric to hit the floor. You felt naked despite the bra and panty set, his gaze taking all of you in. By no means was this your first time with a man, but it was your first time with Paul, and so far, you'd never felt or experienced anything like this and he wasn't even inside you yet. It was like your skin was on fire from the inside out, all of your nerves firing at once, causing everything to tingle and your breath to catch as your heart threatened to leap from your chest. 

His foot stepped between yours and he placed his hands on your hips, gently backing you into the bed, his lips sealing with yours, your hands holding his forearms to steady yourself. His hands cradled you as the two of you fell into the mattress, his body covering yours, his lips traveling down your neck and nipping at that sensitive spot that made your panties pool and your thighs clench. Your hands shoved the material of his button down over his shoulders and, as his lips carried on toward the swell of your breasts, he flung the shirt wherever it landed.

You smirked as he figured out the bra you had on was front closure and with a snap your breasts were freed. 

"Fuck, sweetheart," he said with a tone you'd never heard from him before.

He had his mouth on you before you could reply, your skin flushing and that twist of stomach igniting with pleasure. His hot tongue lolled around your nipple before suckling it between his teeth and giving it a little pull. You moaned as he pulled away, your fingers scratching at his neck. He smirked against your other breast as you arched into him, his free hand running over your hip and behind you to palm your ass as your leg lifted and bent a knee at his hip.

"I....oh God," you purred as his tongue licked and his mouth sucked, alternating between your breasts. "Fuck, I... Paul, please."

He sat back and ripped his shirt over his head, adding it to the pile. You could see he was solid from your foreplay and you knew the size he was packing. Your stomach twisted in anticipation. 

"Please... What?" He said softly as he left hot, wet kisses up the inside of your thigh. "You know, for a trained police officer I would expect you to have a little more self-control, Baby.”

"Shut up..."

He nipped at your thigh, and you moaned obscenely, your muscles twitching. "You gonna tell me what you want?" He nipped again, higher this time. "Or.."

"I need you."

“I asked what you want...”

"Fuck me."

Quickly he was standing, undoing his belt and pants while pulling a condom from his back pocket. You laid there amazed and in awe of the thick muscles of his entire body, the bare chest and tight abs he had on display. You'd seen his thick and full length before, hell, you'd even put your mouth around it but now, all you can think of is how it would feel deep inside you. Your eyes watched him with a hunger you could feel coursing all through you, the way he rolled the latex circle down his shaft and kneeled toward you on the bed. 

He pulled at your panties, peeling them away from your body, your legs lifting to remove them fully. You were soaked as he tested your folds, slicking the head of his cock. It felt so good already, you were squirming by the time his head dipped inside you. He caged you in with his body as he pressed into you little by little until you were both moaning at the perfect fit as he became fully seated inside you. His St. Christopher medal dangled between the two of you as it ghosted across your chest. 

Your hand gripped the medallion as you gave a gentle pull, his lips barely touching yours, "I said fuck me, Diskant." You sealed your words with a hard kiss, nothing but tongue inside his mouth and his hips snapped, again the two of you making lewd sounds as your bodies joined together.

He broke away from your kiss and thrust his hips forward again, slowly pulling out and snapping back in. It was blissful torture, your body experiencing each movement as if it were new. Your walls continuously contracted around him, giving him a pressure around his cock. It was a tight fit, but not painful, not uncomfortable in any way. Your eyes and his never broke away from each other, only lashes kissing cheeks as you would close your eyes for a kiss. 

With a deep, intentional roll of his hips, his lips moved across your jaw and neck, settling near your ear. "I love you," he whispered. 

You gasped as you felt your body react, "Oh fuck!" You moaned, your orgasm coming out of nowhere, tightening around him hard. 

"Fucking hell," Paul moaned as his hips sped up, until he was spasming inside you, his seed filling the barrier. 

He stilled while inside you, pulling out and slipping away with a soft kiss, only to come back cleaned up and pulling the sheet over the two of you. He curled his body around yours, your bare skin against his chest, his hand entwined with yours as his lips kissed your tousled head. "You're amazing."

You turned to look at him with your tired but happy eyes, "did you mean it?" 

A soft smile splayed over his features as his eyes twinkled a bit, understanding exactly what you were referring to. "I was being ironic, as I was, literally loving you." He took a pause and leaned in for a sweet, all lip kiss. "But hypothetically... if I did mean it..." 

You grinned, “then, hypothetically I’d say I love you to."

He chuckled and quickly pecked you again before settling in behind you for sleep. "Good to know."

The bell to the lift beeped and the doors loudly opened, bringing you to the present. It felt like everything took forever since you'd received Captain Biggs' call. You followed the doctor down the hall and after a sharp left, he showed you the doorway to Paul's room. 

As you stepped inside, your heart shattered. The first thing you noticed was how small and pale he looked there in his bed. Paul wasn't a small guy, in fact he was six feet of thick muscle and hard strength. A built frame that loved to wrap itself around you any chance he could. Your firm and well taught body fitting like the perfect piece to him. You swallowed hard as you stepped forward, closer to the edge of his bed. There were so many wires, so many leads hooked up to the various machines that ensured he stayed in his medicinal sleep and keeping him alive. A tube for the ventilator was in his mouth and down his throat while monitoring equipment measured his vitals, IV lines and pumps full of medication surrounded him, a feeding tube was stuck in his nose, and not to mention the various drains and catheters. You found yourself cursing all the episodes of ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ the pair of you had watched as you weren't sure if you'd rather not fucking know what the hell they all were. 

Despite the sick symphony of beeps and blips on the screens, the only sound you heard was the sound of his heart rate on its own monitor. A steady, morbid mantra reminding you that he was there but not really there with you. 

Gone were those beautiful blue eyes you loved waking up to each morning or staring deeply into as his pupils, lust blown with deep passion, love and desire stared back you while you made love. Hiding behind an ugly plastic tube were those pearly whites you loved seeing when he smiled or laughed with his whole body, his cheeky grin missing. Silent was the voice that would make your heart skip its beats, your body ignite, that would meet your voice in reply, 'sugar'. 

You held back the sob that was choking you breathless and you sat in the chair beside his bed, facing him. Your warm and soft hand took hold of his, and you were broken at how cold he felt. 

As you looked up for some form of help to the heavens above, your eyes looked back at him and you gave a breathy, shaky sigh, "hey, Stud."

***** Part 3

[angel-anoetic]

Hey! 🌿 here, I've been having Jack Manifold brain rot recently. He's so pretty and genuine and has such a nice singing voice. And then I was struck with this idea of Jack and Reader being reincarnated souls of dryads who waltz to save the world when the egg takes over and reset the timeline minus the corruption that happened and only Foolish remembers (because he's a god) even if you don't write it, thank you for writing all of my requests, it means a lot to me! ❤️

hey hey 🌿! i too have had jack manifold brain rot or it might be the gender envy but anyways- his voice is so pretty. Anon, you always give me the best writing prompts to and i always love writing your requests! i hope you enjoy !!

Don't forget to like to save, and reblog to share

c!JackManifold x gn!Reader - Saving Souls

genre: /rom, soulmates almost (?), fantasy, Dreamsmp au

warnings: none! (let me know if i missed anything)

masterlist <3

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The first time you had noticed any kind of power, you were maybe 5 years old. It wasn't too obvious at first, things that could be passed off as mere coincidence Leaves seemingly following you, flowers turning to face you.

But you couldn't ignore the big signs, the bigger things. Vines growing around you, the flowers you picked immediately sprouting a few more in their place.

It scared you, but over time you got used to it. It gave you something to do on the hot summer days and cold winter nights. Spring gave you the most power and let them flourish, literally and metaphorically.

It had been some years ago when you met a young man who went by the name Jack Manifold. It was a nice day and you decided to cross the river that surrounded your home when you came upon a field of flowers after walking for a few minutes.

There were so many that you could feel their energy fill your veins. But there was something else. Someone. An energy that matched your own, too powerful to be a plant or a part of the Earth. Then he appeared, seemingly from nowhere. A tree a few yards away suddenly a boy.

From there had blossomed, no pun intended a friendship and relationship that held so much power. You two had grown and helped each other through work through the cons of your powers. Learned how to control them before they controlled you.

So one day when you received a message from an old friend regarding a certain evil that had taken over his friends and one of his homes, you couldn't ignore his call.

You and Jack showed up a few days later, and after a brief meeting with Foolish, you considered your options as you and Jack walked to the Egg's resting place.

"Maybe we could find if its core, and if we're lucky it'll be plant-based. Or Foolish did say that there are lots of vines and other plants surrounding it. We can just bury it so deep it won't be a problem ever again."

"No, Foolish wants it gone, and I think we should exhaust all of our options, whether we destroy the Egg or not."

As you two made your way to the Egg, people began to stop and consider the new visitors. Some looked tired, others just seemed angry or upset.

Then you two found it. The entrance to its resting place. Its red color illuminating what otherwise would have been a darkroom underneath the SMP. Vines and some other plants that you weren't sure you had ever seen.

"Oh my god." You looked at Jack, his eyes glowing against the room's tainted glow.

"What is it?"

"This is worse than what I would have expected, Y/N. These plants...I've only seen them once before in a very bad place. But it could work to our advantage."

You both made your way down the stairs, the sight of the Egg pushing beyond what you could have ever imagined. It stood tall, and the pure energy and heat that it gave off were almost enough to make anyone tired.

You began to feel a sense of panic rising in you, your hands slightly shaking at the sight of the object.

You felt the energy rushing out, towards the palm of your hands as a small flutter of energy found its way to the ground. As soon as the small seeds touched the ground, they grew into enormous green and white flowers.

A terrible scream suddenly emitted from the room, one that neither of you could hardly understand.

"Y/N, do that again."

"W-What?"

"The flowers, help them grow, just like those."

You focused on the type of flower, seeing it in your mind, then three more sprouted out of the original one.

Another scream filled the room.

"Alright, I have a plan. I'm not sure it will work but I do know it's worth a chance."

You couldn't look away from the Egg. It was like a monster staring you down, one that you were seconds away from fighting.

Jack turned to you, grabbing your face gently, rubbing his thumb against your cheek.

"Hey," he whispered, "It's alright. We are gonna take care of this in no time and help so many people. And we're gonna come out of it together. Okay?"

You nodded, grabbing his hands with your own, leaning into his energy.

"Alright, the plan is simple. I am going to try and manipulate these plants and grow the ones you just did. The Egg, it doesn't like the sight or the addition of plants that aren't connected to it. So while I'm carrying that out you need to start making something to protect us. I don't care what it is, how big it is, as long as it's strong enough to get us through a really bad thing. Can you do that for me?"

"I can do that."

You both smiled until Jack spoke. "Then let's do this."

Jack picked one of the flowers and one of the crimson plants that encased the room. He placed them gently together in front of the Egg and began to focus on transforming them into whatever he could.

You on the other hand began to pull together whatever plant matter you could find. Some pieces of wood and plants you had never even seen in your life still seemed to bend your will with just a little resistance. A small burrow was slowly being formed around you. When you looked up you could already see Jack had formed a large hybrid of the red and white plant which was now surrounding the Egg in a spiral.

The screams returned, nearly knocking Jack off his feet. He was a mess, the focus combined with the pure power that he needed to do what he needed was taking its toll slowly but surely.

Eventually, the Egg's screams, while still loud, became weaker, and a sudden rumbling came from the ground around you both.

"Jack! Jack get in here!" You screamed from your makeshift plant and wood bunker.

"Just a minute!" He continued his work, the vines and leaves already infiltrating the Egg's core.

You looked up, the ceiling above you caving in slowly. Right above Jack.

All he felt was the large vine wrap around his waist, then a harsh pull as he fell next to you within the bunker, moments away from the boulder that nearly crushed him.

"Keep going! It's not over yet."

You turned your attention away from the bunker and began to help Jack. The screams had to be the worst part. Your ears were basically going numb. You weren't even sure if Jack could hear your encouragements or if you were even talking.

All you know is that both of you were trying, the shaking of the ground was strong, and a sudden bright light was exploding from the Egg.

Then silence.

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

You were the first to wake up. The ringing was still in your ears, but less powerful and daunting. Jack was situated against you, sleeping peacefully.

You leaned back against your arms and tried to shake him awake. Eventually, he stirred up, and you were able to clear away your shared 'bunker'.

After you made your way back up you saw the change immediately. The skies seemed happier. People were less scared to move about town.

You and Jack walked around, people greeting you as you did. You spotted Foolish atop a hill.

When you finally met him up there he smiled.

"Y/N, thank you so much. It happened. Whatever you two did...it worked." The tears filled his eyes as he engulfed both you and Jack in a hug.

"I don't know what you did, but no one here even seems to know what happened. It's like they went to bed and woke up new people. A fresh start."

You laughed. "That's great Foolish. I'm happy we could help. It was all Jack in the end."

You both turned to each other, the light in both of your eyes new.

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

[deaththesyd]

To The Brink Of Confession: Chapter 1, "He's not ugly"

I'd like to blame @mytanuki-kun for one of their works inspiring this side project that is now in the way of my Kisame week progress. As frustrating as this is, I'm having fun with this one and I'm excited to write my first true multi-chapter fic, even if it doesn't fit with the rest of my works and their timeline.

Summary: At first, she had shrugged it off as him simply being worn out from all the social interaction, but if that was the case, why was he only avoiding her?

At first, she had let it slide. Being super friendly and interacting with people was draining after all, and being forced to live in close quarters with such a loud group was sure to take its toll on even the most extroverted people. His avoidance lasted the entire rest of his time spent in her world, but she didn’t worry. As usual, a month passed by before she herself was teleported away into the foreign world of Jutsu, violence, and ninja. She even shook off her doubts when instead of her usual escorts, she was picked up by Kakuzu and Hidan, being told that the others were all preoccupied with important missions, ones that she would only be a distraction from. Entertaining as she found the duo and their antics, she couldn’t exactly hide her disappointment from the silver-haired loudmouth she had grown to consider a friend.

“What’s with all the moping, huh?” He said loudly, stood in front of her, face lowered to look her directly in the eyes as she had been watching the ground as she walked. Blocking her path forward, she stopped to look up at him, forcing herself to push down her thoughts and play them off as nothing. Surprising as it may be, Hidan wasn’t entirely self-absorbed and happened to be pretty talented at sensing other's emotions, a skill that he very rarely made use of. Not that it was really all that hard to see that something was up with her. Always easy to read, an open book, she was the worst liar and easily the most sincere person he had met. He seriously couldn’t stand her mood lately, it was worried and upsetting. Mixed with Kakuzu’s ongoing anger at everything and everyone, the irritating emotions were mixing and giving Hidan a headache. There were only two ways he could think of to fix this, either piss off Kakuzu to relieve his built-up stress and risk an explosive and painful response, or play concerned friend and get the woman lagging behind them to return to her normal upbeat self. Contemplating both options, the least painful option seemed the best bet.

“It’s not nothing, I can tell, so don’t bother lying, you’re shit at it anyway,” he cut her off as she tried to reply.

She tried anyway. “Really though,” she said, smiling almost convincingly, “I’m just lost in thought, we’ve been walking all day, can you blame me for tuning out?” Waving him off, she sidestepped him to follow after Kakuzu, who had not stopped for them and was quickly leaving them behind.

Knowing that the likelihood of being separated from Kakuzu was high if they didn’t keep up with the old man, he didn’t hold her back but stayed by her side to press for a proper response. “I said not to fucking lie,” he spoke casually knowing that anything truly harsh would only shut her up further, “you’ve been like this ever since you got here, it’s not just you being tired of walking.”

Sighing, she replied, “Ok, you’re right that I’m not just tired, but it’s nothing, really. I just need to manage it by myself.” No longer lying was a step forward, but she kept her lips tight on whatever it was. She was stubborn, but Hidan was persistent.

“What’s with you being all shy all of a sudden? You’re always so fucking talkative no one but Fishface can get you to be quiet,” he complained, almost missing how she reacted at the mention of the tall swordsmen. He grinned, seemed like he had a hook. “Awe, is this about your little crush on the big guy? Did you ask him out and he chickened out?” He laughed cruelly.

It wasn’t much of a secret that she had feelings for Kisame, she wasn’t very good at hiding how he caught her eye, often spacing out while watching him train, and making any excuse to get his attention. Everyone at some point had noticed the flush to her face around him, or the fond look in her eyes as she looked up at him. To most, it wasn’t anything to focus on. Kakuzu and Sasori couldn’t care less about it, as long as she wasn’t being obnoxious, Itachi seemed to keep a careful watch over her and her interactions with his partner, his reasons were unknown to Hidan who couldn’t care less about the Uchiha. Deidara and Hidan made sure to poke fun and tease her at any opportunity, making sure to keep their taunts from the man of her affections, trying to draw out their entertainment as long as they could. After months of this, she had become accustomed to the mostly friendly jeering from the two and had begun to poke fun at herself as well. It seemed she had resigned herself to watching from afar and keeping her flirting to a level that was easily mistaken for friendly conversation by the oblivious man.

Years of being acquainted with Kisame had only given Hidan a surface-level knowledge of the man, but recently he had noticed just how unconfident truly was of his looks, something he of course zeroed in on immediately. 6 foot whatever and hulking over even Kakuzu, it was hilarious to him that the member of the legendary Swordsmen of the Mist was both self-conscious over his fishy appearance, and his years of training as a ninja had not taught him to notice the obvious signs that a woman was into him. How anyone could be so unaware, yet so skilled was beyond him.

Her face saddened at his words, her brow furrowing, and her eyes cast themselves to the ground again. “I haven’t said anything, but I think he might have caught on,” she said quietly.

Despite her clearly upset confession, he grinned. “Way to go! Fishface finally figured out how to see above water, wondered if his brain was just waterlogged,” he snickered, excited that he could finally openly pick on him over the subject, but she didn’t smile and remind him to be nice like she normally did when he made digs at the sharkman. Clearly not a good sign then.

“I think he’s avoiding me,” she said, looking defeatedly at her shuffling feet. Now that made no sense.

Not long after it was clear to everyone but Kisame that she had an attraction to the tall man, it became more and more obvious that it was reciprocated. As much as she stared at him, he stared at her. Less openly, probably why it had taken everyone a while longer to see it, but it was well known that the two were complete idiots that had no clue the other was just as interested as they were. Part of Hidan had wanted to tell them immediately, embarrass them and make a scene out of it all, but another part of him had held onto their frustrations and fed off of it as a much more drawn-out entertainment source. Deidara was in on it too, saying that as much as he wanted to set off an explosive show by forcing their feelings out into the open, he also wanted there to be a build-up. In the meantime, they got to tease their fishy accomplice as much as they could get away with without pissing him off and alerting the other half of the pining duo. The fact that Kisame was avoiding her after finding out she felt the same was not what anyone had expected. For once in his life, Hidan was pissed at the drama of it. He would not admit that he was actually looking forward to the two becoming a couple.

“Bet he’s just scared that someone thinks his ugly mug is hot and is worried for your sanity,” he laughed. Her hand smacked him halfheartedly.

“He’s not ugly.” She said sternly, “Although with how forward I’ve been, he may have been creeped out,” she smiled, but there was a twinge of pain on her face that Hidan couldn’t help but notice. It pissed him off, his whole religion was about inflicting pain and death for his God, but seeing her genuinely upset gave him a feeling of frustration on her behalf.

“There’s no way he’s creeped out by your creepy staring,” he found himself attempting to reassure her, feeling as though he was betraying his and Deidara’s whole scheme. “He’s clearly just as much a creepy stalker as you are.”

Unsure that she had heard him correctly, she looked up to see Hidan avoiding eye contact, looking off the side of the road, ignoring her reaction purposely. “I don’t see how he’s the stalker,” she laughed humorlessly, “When he’s the one avoiding me.”

“Of course you don’t, you’re just as fucking blind as he is,” he muttered. Her sudden giggle made him look at her in suspicion. “The hell’s so funny?”

She brought a hand to try and stifle her laughter before she spoke, “What’s got you all grumpy now? Upset someones not crushing back on you?” She teased, eyes darting to look at the silent man trudging forward ahead of them, then back at Hidan.

The glare he shot her only made her giggles slightly louder. “What the fuck are you gettin’ at?” He spat, daring her to continue.

Humming whimsically, she spoke, “I just think that maybe you’re projecting some of your own frustrations onto someone else.”

He should have chosen to piss off Kakuzu. She may have been the lesser of two evils at a first glance, but the ability she had to force him into subjects he would rather avoid was something he had forgotten to account for in his earlier decision. Unlike the completely requited yet oblivious relationship between her and Kisame, Hidan’s own feelings were something he tried to ignore whenever possible. It was just a shitty joke she had made, something about how Hidan should leave her alone since he was really just trying to make the old man jealous. Something he should have shaken off with a normal insult towards the old miser, yet he had frozen, caught off guard by the accuracy. That was the one and only time he had ever allowed himself to come out to someone and let them live. It was shameful in the church to have feelings of devotion for anyone but Jashin, yet wanting someone that couldn’t produce more followers was even more so. Adamantly, he refused his feelings towards the man, but since that day she had treated his explicit flirting as nothing more than a show.

Embarrassed as he was, his comeback held no bite, and her teasing and further avoidance of the earlier topic increased. Eventually, it turned into a loud argument that reached Kakuzu’s ears, who ended their annoying discussion by threatening them both. She was easier to scare, but whatever they had been squabbling about had made Hidan more feisty than normal.

“Fuck off you old dick! There’s plenty of politer ways to ask to be included in a conversation,” came the danger prodding taunt from the young man. It was hard to guess why, but the older man’s fuse was shorter than usual, and the woman yelped as a dark arm split off from the man's torso to grab the face of the loudmouthed man right beside her. Flailing wildly and ineffectively he was dragged along the ground, yanked by the harsh grip of the intolerant man. Green eyes surrounded by red sclera flashed at her, warning her she would be next if she didn’t follow quietly. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she did just that.

[milfgritty]

constellation of asters | m. frost & j. farabee

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

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

⇢ posted: 02.07.21 . | . masterlist

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

You, though?

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

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

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

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

That’s what you told yourself, at least. 

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

Depends on the day, really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

The weekend came far sooner than you expected. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Christ, that sounded lame even in your head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—I do not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel and Morgan shared a look, communicating silently. 

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

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

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

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

“Well, that changes today, buddy.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

Much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We promise.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was fucked. 

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

It went without saying that you were a bit scared. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you ever think about your soulmate?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Always the three of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“All of this?” You asked, uncomprehending.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, please—”

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

Joel hated this. 

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

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

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

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

[10:38pm] armrest ; coffee tomorrow? 

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

[10:40pm] bumblebee ; yea ofc

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

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

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

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

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

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

But tomorrow, maybe tomorrow would change things.

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

Both of you ignored the still empty third seat.

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

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

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

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

God, he missed you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I missed you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yea, it still hurts.”

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

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

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

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

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

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

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

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

This. 

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

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

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

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

~

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

“We need to talk.”

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

“I think you know what.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yea?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

[8:17pm] frostbite ; come over?

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

Was it bad that you didn’t feel ready?

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

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

[8:19pm] armrest ; omw over

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked rough. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lucky?” Morgan hazarded a guess. 

“I’ll take it.” Joel grinned.

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“No.” 

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

“You’re two to one,” Joel teased.

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

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

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

“Correct,” you confirmed.

“Sounds about right so far,” Morgan nodded.

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

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

He nodded, leaning close, “I agree.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes or yes,” you deadpanned.

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

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

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

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

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

Morgan nodded, staying quiet. 

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

“Yea?” Morgan smiled. 

“Yea.” Joel returned it.

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

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

“Thirded,” Joel agreed, nodding wholeheartedly.

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“On three?” Morgan proposed. 

“On three,” you and Joel agreed. 

“One,” you started.

“Two,” Joel continued.

“Three.”

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

It seemed the general consensus was…not good. 

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

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

“Pizza?”

“Pizza.”

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pointed at Joel, agreeing. 

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

~

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

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

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

You threw your head back with a loud laugh. 

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

All in all, an excellent night. 

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

morgan frost ~ joel farabee

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

y/n ~ morgan frost

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

joel farabee ~ y/n

A perfect set.

~ fin ~

[slightlyrebelliouswriter23]

Crashing | Jurdan Fake Hating One Shot

Written for: @poeticbrownmermaid​ for my 1k celebration!

Massive thank you to: @clockworkgraystairs​ and @sweetlyvillainous​ for beta reading this and holding my hand before I posted 🥺❤️

Summary: You’ve heard of fake dating. Get ready for fake hating. It’s all very romantic.

Rating: M/E for explicit language and a short, soft focus smut scene (a steam scene, if you will). The sexy parts start and stop after the ☽☽ in case you want to skip.

Masterlist

“You taste—” I’m cut off by my own giggle, which rises to my lips like my mouth is a glass and my laugh is the Champagne they’re serving at this dumb party. “You taste like bubblegum.”

Cardan looks at me funny, then snorts. “What?”

His eyes are beguiling when they’re amused. Even more beguiling when they’re amused and looking at me. They are dark intoxication. They compete against the night sky for vastness. I could swallow them whole.

We’re on the terrace under the stars outside his fancy-pants mansion. I’m sitting on the stone railing, my knees bracketing his lithe frame. His hands and lips are breathless effervescence on me.

I’m in a daring dress of red satin that I would’ve never chosen for myself had Oriana not insisted on finding us girls a tailor. It’s an elegant, backless number with an audacious slit up the side. The whole time before this in the ballroom, I could sense Cardan’s eyes eating it up while he pretended to hate me.

In this dress, I am a femme fatale spy from a film, meeting her tryst in the secret of shadows. Which is honestly not too far off from the reality of the situation, though I am no spy.

Cardan ghosts one hand up the exposed skin of my thigh. The night air is bracing as his touch.

“Jude,” he murmurs, “Are you drunk?”

He’s in a rakish black velvet suit with two blood-red rubies dangling from the pointed tips of his collar. It is decadence and sin given form. The first hour of this hell party was just that: Hell. By the time Cardan pressed a napkin into my palm with the words “Terrace. 10 min.” scrawled on it in smeared ink, I was beginning to glare at him in earnest—if only for the way he must’ve known he was teasing me.

Now, we’re making out behind two conveniently tall potted plants.

It’s all very romantic.

“I had one glass of wine, Cardan,” I say. I slide my hands from his hair and scrape my nails lightly down the column of his neck. It is heady, watching his eyes shutter. My hands slide down his chest and take up his lapels. I give them a firm tug. “I’m fine.”

“Well, I,” he says, lips hovering over my own, “Don’t believe you.” His breath fans across my face. It really does smell like bubblegum. And not the minty kind, either. I’m talking bright pink and bubblicious.

I lean back a little and stick my bottom lip out in a mock-pout. “Why not?”

“For starters,” he says, “You’re a lightweight.” He trails that damned hand down my exposed thigh again.

I shiver. “So? I also ate like twenty of those canopy things.”

“Canapés?” Cardan smirks.

“Yeah, whatever, Your Highness.”

He flashes me a grin and I’m briefly stricken into silence. “Then, what have you to say to your unprecedented giddiness this evening, Your Majesty?”

“Ew, don’t call me that.” I grimace. “I just called you ‘Your Highness’.”

“What? Scared of the implication?”

“Uh, yeah.” My brows shoot up on my forehead. “Mainly because it implies that I’m your mother.”

Cardan’s face goes slack. “Shit, really?”

I nod and bite back my grin.

“I thought they were interchangeable.”

“About as interchangeable as a fork and a spoon.”

He sputters a laugh. “Shows what I know about royalty.”

“You realise how ironic that is, don’t you?” I say, nodding pointedly in the direction of the party.

It goes on without us, spilling its mirth in great golden shafts out onto the terrace. It doesn’t touch us, though. The air is cool, clear of the preening bullshit that so regularly lathers these kinds of events. And though he makes me dizzy, Cardan is the only real thing here.

I think I like parties better this way. From the shadows. In there, we’d have to talk to people, explain ourselves. We’re supposed to hate each other. We were always supposed to hate each other.

A smile plays at the corners of Cardan’s lips as if he’s gleaned these thoughts of mine. “You haven’t answered my question.”

I narrow my eyes. “You think I’m too giddy to not be drunk.”

“Mhmm.” He nudges his nose against mine. “I’ve never heard you giggle before.” A slender finger tracks up my spine and it takes a considerable amount of concentration not to squeeze my thighs together. Goosebumps and a flush spring to my skin, anyway. “It’s delightful,” he tells me.

“Well, maybe you should work on your sense of humour.” My voice comes out shakier than I want it to.

“Maybe,” Cardan says, grabbing the back of my knee and hitching it up. “But that sounds like effort.”

I want to roll my eyes. This is exactly the reason we used to hate each other. His laziness, his arrogance, and entitlement made me want to punch him clean across his pretty cheekbones. I know my stubbornness and sharp tongue made him hate me right back.

Yet, when our worlds crumbled around us, we found ourselves crashing into each other. Entwined in a thicket of mutual understanding. Suddenly, there was so very little to hate.

We pretend to in public to keep up appearances. Everyone knows we hated each other. If we started being friendly around everyone else, people would talk. That’s the last thing we want. Even if they’d technically be right.

In private, though, Cardan is probably my most closely held secret.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s still annoying as all hell. Like right now. But I’ve always liked a challenge.

I hook my leg around his back, pulling him in. My fingers card through his hair again. “I can be delightful in other ways,” I say, biting my lip.

His eyes lower to my mouth. “Oh, I’m well aware.” Cardan’s voice comes out a rasp. He cants my chin with the crook of his finger, pulling my lip from between my teeth with the pad of his thumb. He looks at me with undiluted lust. The weight of his gaze is like a dizzying nightmare.

Then, he devours me.

Our mouths slide together, slowly at first, but building in fervor. Hot and heavy, like a fever. His grip on my thigh is bruising. His other hand splays across my bare back, crushing me to him, long fingers twining in my hair. Everything turns saturated and slow.

I invade his mouth with my tongue, determined to drink him up. He tastes like bubblegum and our reconciliation. At the same time, I hook my other leg behind him so he’s pressed flush against the apex of my thighs. ☽☽

A muffled groan rolls between his teeth. “Fuck, Jude.” Cardan is growing firm beneath his trousers. The feel of it sends a curl of sweet desire, dark and throbbing, through my core.

“You’re going to have to be quieter than that,” I tease. I’m so featherbrained on the savour of his mouth, his liquid touch. My veins feel full of amber liquor instead of blood. I know I’m not drunk, and yet I feel it.

His fingers drawl back up my leg. “The question is, dear,” he says, “Can you be quiet?” The coolness of his hands sends a shock along the heat of my inner thigh.

I realise where he’s going with this and my breath hitches. My cheeks blaze. “Yes,” I tell him, though I don’t sound as confident as I should for such a high stakes rendezvous.

“Hmm,” Cardan thrums. “We’ll see about that.”

His fingers are deft and twice as sly. He hisses through his teeth when they glide over me, exploring.

As a steady rain, he begins my unravelling. His mouth covers mine, swallowing a soft whimper that escapes my throat. I want to moan his name, to curse aloud, but I can’t if we’re to stay hidden.

The thought is both terrible and exciting at once.

Cardan keeps a torturous pace. I cling to him, panting, clutching at his arms, clawing at his back. His mouth roams my jawline. His teeth tug my ear. My mind is frenetic, frenzied, and at once thick in a viscous haze.

All I can think about is how this party is so stupid and soul-sucking, but Cardan is the farthest thing from stupid and soul-sucking. About how he makes me feel very much alive. About how I like him more than anyone here, probably more than even myself.

His other arm wraps certain and solid around me as he spins my world on its side. I lean my forehead on his shoulder. He kisses my neck. I can’t help the gasps that leave me.

My heart is racing. So quickly does it pump, in time with his ministrations, I think I might turn to white lightning in a bottle before all is said and done.

I know it when I’m drawing towards that precipice. My toes curl and flex. My legs begin to quiver. My knees lock up.

“Cardan,” I gasp. “Please.”

“Can you be quiet for me, Jude?” Cardan murmurs rough against my ear. He sounds a little breathless, too.

I am so muddled, I am so close. I can only manage a soft sob in response. Now he’s doubling his efforts and oh, gods is he clever.

I bite his shoulder to keep from making a sound as I shoot over the edge, a wondrous arc so high I’m sure I scrape the stars of their dust.

My hips writhe against his palm. I pull and rake my fingers through his hair as I spiral through the five stages of sweet delirium.

He holds me through it. Presses his lips to my hair and whispers what I think must be comforting things into my ear. I can’t tell because I’m incapable of comprehending much of anything beyond myself in his arms. He strokes soft circles over my back until it’s done. ☽☽

When everything settles, I’m still clinging to him, my forehead against the sureness of his shoulder. A sheen of sweat dewing my skin.

I’ve always hated this part about intimacy. The aftermath. Everything is too quiet. The excitement is gone. You’re faced with the reality of looking at each other without the rosy filter of lust. Maybe you’ll see each other for who you really are, and that’s a scary thought.

That’s probably how I felt once with Cardan, too. Back when we started…whatever this is. But now, in this moment with him, it feels less vulnerable and more like holding someone’s hand as you stare upon something a little terrifying.

Which is why I’m able to look up at him and ask in every manner of seriousness, “Why do you taste like bubblegum?”

His responding laugh is gentle and he shakes his head. “One-track mind,” he says. I shrug and wait.

“They’re serving bubblegum cocktails at the bar inside.”

My nose crinkles. “You actually drank one of those?”

“Don’t knock it till you try it.”

“No, I think I’ll sleep quite soundly if I never do.”

Cardan gives me an awful kind of grin that makes my toes curl anew. “Didn’t hear you complaining earlier.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “That’s different.”

“Is it?” he says, then tucks a loose curl behind my ear. “I happen to like bubblegum cocktails.”

I give him a dubious look. I can’t help but feel that maybe we’re not talking about bubblegum cocktails anymore.

For a long moment, we just sit there staring at each other. There’s a bloom of laughter from inside the house. The clink of glasses. His eyes trace the lines of my face. I still feel drunk on him and he’s looking at me too soberly.

So I say, “You have shit taste, then,” and hop off the railing. I side-step him before beginning the task of smoothing down my dress. If I walk back into the party all flushed and disheveled, people will know what I’ve been doing—which is almost as bad as if people knew who I’ve been doing.

“Oh, you can’t say that dear,” Cardan lilts as he leans back against the balcony with all the insouciance of someone who lives in this ridiculous mansion. And rightly so, because he does. “Not when you taste equally delicious.” Then he brings his fingers, the ones that have just been inside me, to his mouth and closes his lips around them, burning gaze locked on mine.

My eyes go wide. My jaw slacks as I watch him. I’m somewhere between affronted by his audacity and completely turned on again. Which is a confusing place to be.

He laughs at my probably very foolish expression and I turn on my heel to head back to the party. I’m not actually offended. I just can’t bear to look at him while he’s tasting me off his fingers without combusting on the spot.

Cardan grabs my wrist. “Wait, wait,” he says, still laughing.

I arc a brow and turn to face him. “I’m waiting.”

“I’m sorry,” he says and sounds earnest enough. “It’s just… you make me giddy, too.”

His words are a punch to the gut. I hadn’t realised it until he said it, but it’s true. It’s not the way he kisses me or the high of a climax, though those are surely nice things, too. It’s the way I feel when we’re together. Just his presence makes my head swim, my stomach turn flips.

He makes me feel a little bit invincible, and entirely beyond reason.

I look at him, the warm glow of the party playing off the sharp angles of his face. He’s still holding my hand, fiddling with the ruby ring I always wear.

On the crest of a breath, Cardan says, “Stay tonight.”

“Why?” I whisper, because we’ve never spent the night. I’m not sure we’d even know how.

“Because I’ll miss you terribly?”

A smile tugs at my lips. “I think you’ll survive.”

“Because you’ll miss me terribly.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely survive,” I say. Even as my heart gives a squeeze. I don’t want to leave.

Not yet, not yet.

“Because you’re too intoxicated to drive home,” he says.

“I took an Uber here, Cardan,” I tell him. “And for the last time, I’m not drunk.”

“I’m not saying you’re drunk, Jude.”

He’s not grinning at me, which I think is a good sign. It means he’s not hinting at something sexual. Then again, that might also be a very bad sign. It means he’s hinting at something deeper. I’m not sure I want to get into that conversation just yet.

“Fine,” I say. I do want to stay. The thought of it sends a little thrill through me. “Hate me for an hour more. We’ll have a big argument about… something. And then I’ll tell Madoc I’m leaving.”

His hands snake around my waist. “What will we argue about tonight?”

I smile at him sweetly. “If your head is half as cunning as your fingers, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

Cardan hums. “I do love it when we’re at each other’s throats.”

I roll my eyes but I’m betrayed by my laugh for not the first time tonight. Stupid punch-drunk feelings.

☽☽☽☽☽

Enjoyed this? Try:  King  |  Wicked Game  |  We’re All Mad Here

Masterlist

AN: So this was supposed to be a drabble for my 1k celebration but my hand slipped and whoops! It’s 2.5K words. I really hope you enjoyed this secret tryst one shot. I had so much fun writing it. If you liked this and want to see more from me, comments and/or reblogs are very much appreciated!

I have a tag list so if you’d like to be added to that, let me know in the comments/my messages/inbox and I’d be happy to add you! I also recently jumped on the Twitter/Instagram bandwagon. You can follow me @/rebelwriter23 on Twitter and @/slightlyrebelliouswriter23 on Instagram.

Back to the forest now. -Em 🖤💫

Title Inspo: Crashing- Illenium

Tag List: @velarhysismine​ @knifewifejude​ @the-mithridatism-of-jude-duarte​ @clockworkgraystairs​ @thesirenwashere​ @judexcardanxgreenbriar​ @nite0wl29​ @aelin-queen-of-terrasen​ @whocares-idont​ @babycardan @sweetlyvillainous​ @aesthetics-11​ @storiesandschemes​ @jurdanhell​ @poeticbrownmermaid​ @thechainofiron​ @random-llama-socks​ @villanellevi​ @lady-thea-of-narnia​ @b00kworm​ @flowersinvegas​ @vanessa172003​ @cardanstrickytail​ @queen-of-glass​ @doingmyrainbow​ @words-of-the-wise​ @scarznstars​ @charincharge​ @fizziefaerie​ @fateandluminary​ @tessas-herondales​ @styles-taylor​ @jyoti96​ @losssssstttttt​ @transbordeamento​ @katsemkitgostadetog @gloriouspalacebakerylawyer​ @woodsbeyond1​ @hizqueen4life​ @highqueenjudeduarte​ @m-like-magic1-blog​ @dorkzrul​ @whataboutmyfries​ @livelovereading123​ @queenofgreenbriar​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @lifeminuspickles​ @df3ndyr​ @christalpaez @aknymph​ @iammissstark​ @disco-tits1​ @star-flecked-soul​

[cherrysha]

Uvo’s First Time With You

This is tooth rottingly sweet Uvo because i really cant help myself. im weak fr that big ass boi.

Requests are Open atm

Summary : I have this headcanon where Uvo doesn’t physically punish his girl *ahem* captive fr not wanting him... he just slips her a lil smthn smthn at dinner one night..

Word Count: 3,691

Warnings: dubcon/noncon, Yandere!Uvo, drugs, unprotected sex, cockwarming, kidnapping, tiniest mention of blood, mentions of violence, aaand I think thats it.

As per usual 18+ crowd here. No minors should be reading this.

He just sits there after dinner, quieter than usual as he waits for it to kick in.

His arm draped across the back of the couch and he just feels you slowly start to squirm around more and more, he lets his eyes wander over you.

“Is everything okay sweetheart?”

“Yeah...it’s just.. really hot in here Uvo” you whisper to him.

And you saying his name like that,, already so needy for...something, has him trying to hide the smirk on his face.

“I’ll adjust the temperature for you then.”

And beFORE he even has a chance to get up your whining at him not to leave. (which is COMPLETELY out of character since you usually are uncomfortable just being around this giant of a man who quite literally kidnapped you)

“I just wanna lay down Uvo.. I don’t feel good”

And there it is again. Usually he can’t even get you to look him in the eye but nOW?! Your saying his name and clutching onto his t-shirt like ur fighting the urge to wrap yourself around him.

He nods his head, keeping a straight face as he gruffly replies with “Go lay down then”

You just let out an impatient sigh and bury your face into his side.

And the bastard KNOWS you want HIM to lay down with you!! But he wants to hear you say it. Wants to see that pretty blush on your face when you get flustered.

You whine out “Uvo...” and stare at him, mentally trying to communicate your need without having to say it out loud. Not really understanding what you want, or maybe you do but you’re so far in denial that you don’t want to acknowledge it.

“Tell me what you want or I won’t give you anything at all.”

And he watches as a pout makes its way across your features.

With a huff you crawl into his lap, arms reaching as far up his tall frame as they can to grip onto his shirt again. Pressing yourself completely against him. You make eye contact for the first time that night.

“I - I want you to lay down with me... please Uvo?”

To say he’s shocked is an understatement

The man is beyond words. It’s only been 15 minutes since he slipped you the drugs and you’re already more comfortable with him than you’ve been since he took you months ago.

“All you had to do was ask sweetheart.”

It’s only been seconds from your statement and you don’t even care about laying down anymore. Can’t even really remember that you were having a conversation or what it was even about. All you can think of now is how hot you are, how your clothing is too itchy and constricting. Your skin is on fire.

Uvo’s body temperature is way hotter than yours normally, and even now he’s still very warm. But to you it feels like heaven. His warmth like a soothing balm over your skin.

“Uvo I need.. I need to take this off” you squirm and try your hardest not to fall off his lap as you wrestle out of your shirt.

His grip on your hips tightens a little. You miss the groan that manages to pass through his lips, too distracted with your own mission of getting out of the straight jacket of a shirt.

He watches you for a minute, panting at the way you’re accidentally grinding down on him. So focused on getting comfortable that you completely forget where your sitting, or that Uvo’s eyes are watching you undress.

“L-Lets get you into bed first sugar” and he removes your clenched fists from the fabric of your shirt. He’s playing the part of an innocent man, but his true motive is that he wants to savor this. He doesn’t want to rush through the moment so quickly that he doesn’t have time to truly indulge in it. To drown in it.

At this point the drugs are kicking in HARD. All you can think of is your need for.. something. You just need it. And the frustration from the denial is mixing with the pain in your gut.

“No Uvo! I need it off.. all of it off! Please it hurts so bad. Please Uvo...”

You’re crying now, hitting his chest weakly with your closed fists.

Uvo’s lap us soaked from the wetness betwen your thighs. He’s not sure if you even notice. That along with the way you’re throwing your little hissy fit, squirming all over him has his head leaning back against the couch, stifling the moan that’s threatening to make it past his clenched jaw.

He collects himself, taking a deep breath before standing up, hands firmly planted on your ass to keep you as close as possible to his body.

He’s so tall that he has you pressed against his lower abdomen, your legs wrapped as far around his trunk of a torso as they can.

Your moving harder in his hands, panting as he takes you up the stairs.

At first he thinks youre struggling to get away from him, so used to your rejection that it takes him a minute to realize you’re rubbing your clothed crotch against his stomach, sighing at the friction of it.

You don’t even realize your doing it tbh. The drugs clouding your mind of any awareness you had. All you know is that moving your hips is making the pain in your gut a little more tolerable.

Uvo stops and just watches. Your breathing heavy as you rub yourself against him, little whispers of his name passing through your parted lips.

He realizes in that moment that he’s a goner. He expected this to be different, expected you to fight against it tooth and nail just like you fought against him over the months he’s had you. He knows you won’t stay this needy, but even now the intimacy you’ve shown him is enough to last him years to come. He’s prepared to go through whatever means necessary to feel this again.

You don’t even register he’s stopped or his heavy gaze watching you intently. You grab his shirt, hiking it up so you can feel the dips and curves of his stomach, greedily soaking up the soothing warmth against your hands, your body still unconsciously moving against his now exposed chest. 

He listens to you moan in relief, watches as your face contorts in pleasure. Uvo starts walking again, albeit a little quicker this time. His mind wandering to the warm slick you’ve just covered his stomach with. He’s painfully hard, needing it just as much as you do.

And in all honesty I don’t think Uvo could deny you anything besides leaving him ofc.

So he gets you in bed and helps you remove everything besides your underwear even though you tried to take that off too and just waits for it... lays there and holds you, waiting for you to tell him what you want from him.

Yes, he could take you by force if he wanted to but this man craves your love and he knows if you give in willingly you know besides the fact he drugged you you’ll see him as your savior. There for you when your hurting, aching, desperately needing help. 

“Uvo.. please.. shirt off” is all he can make out of your incoherent mumbling.

And this fucker

“Your shirt is already off baby”

He’s making it difficult on purpose. Stringing you out so he can see you sob for him.

“No...no. You undress. Please? Please..”

And that’s enough.

His patience is wearing thin. Months and months of craving you. Wanting you to love him but only getting one word replies and scared tears had him yearning for your affection, to the point it made him sick.

He’s never wanted anything as desperately as he’s wanted you. And you wanting him back? He’ll do anything to have his feelings reciprocated.

He takes everything off, even stripping out of his boxers.

You sob when he pulls away to shuck out of his clothing, fat tears sliding down your face at the loss of his touch.

It only takes him seconds but it’s long enough to have you in hysterics

He shushes you, laying you on his chest as he wraps an arm around your waist. Running his fingers through your hair, whispering in your ear:

“It’s okay”

“I’m here”

“I’m not leaving you baby”

Until you’ve calmed down. His skin on yours is a godsend. You actually kiss him first, moving in as he’s whispering to you and catching him off guard.

It’s open mouthed and sloppy, your need making you desperate.

When he starts to kiss you back you whine into his mouth, not being able to stop yourself from moving your hips.

Uvo grunts, letting himself roll up against you; loving the squeak you let out into his mouth as his hands grasp your hips.

He could stop right now and it would still be the best moment of his life. His tongue in your mouth tasting your desire and his hips moving in tandem with yours. It’s heaven.

To you it’s pure ecstasy. You’ve never experienced this type of gut wrenching pain before. A need so desperate you’ll do anything to quell it.

Even if it meant letting your captor fuck you senseless.

You’re unashamed. There is no room in your head to think about such things when your body is on fire like this, burning as your floor muscles clench and unclench so hard it’s excruciating. Trying desperately to squeeze around something and adding to the fire when they find nothing.

The little drop of relief you felt with Uvo was enough to spur you on. If he was the cure then consequences be damned. You were trapped anyway.

You learned you couldn’t outrun him, definitely couldn’t fight him, and now you’d just proven that given a little push you’d actually be with him. You let the thoughts float away

If this was your bed, you’d lay in it.

“Y/n” he lets out a grunt as the spot between your thighs coats his cock through the soaked fabric of your panties.

“Y/n... let me take these off.”

You don’t respond. Instead you grind down harder against him.

Uvo tears the flimsy material off of you body, your bra following soon after.

He’s watching the way your breasts bounce at the force, eyes only ripping away when a high pitched whine leaves your throat.

Your eyes are closed, only focusing on his cock sliding between your folds with every glide of your hips.

Hot and thick, you sob with relief. And still, it wasn’t enough.

“Please Uvo”

“Please what baby? What do you want?”

And with the most conviction you’ve had tonight you beg him “I need you inside of me. Please Uvo. Make it stop.”

He’s breathless. You’ve never wanted anything. No gift would satisfy you, no amount of money could buy your love. And with one measly pill he’s got you writhing on top of him, begging for him to fill you up with his cock.

It gives him a head rush. The only thing you’ve ever asked for is to be stuffed full.

And we all know Uvo is packing some heat right?

Uvo even knows he’s huge, and right now this mans ain’t trying to tear you open unless you wanted him to.

Even though he wants nothing more than to simply seat himself fully inside the tight clutch of your warmth, and god how easy it’d be in this position to just pick you up and sit you down on his length, he flips over. Being careful not to use too much strength in his excited state, so you’re laying beneath him on the bed.

You’re disoriented, and by the time you even fully process what’s happened he’s got his middle finger knuckle deep inside of you.

You arch your back, vision going black and mouth opening into a silent scream with how hard you cum just from one drop of relief.

And he’s trying so fucking hard to keep it together. The way your eyes roll back and your sex already trying so desperately to milk him, tightly clenching and unclenching around his digit.

He’s sure you’re going to drive him mad with desire.

You catch your breath and Uvo’s panting along with you too.

“Did that feel good baby?” And you nod up at him, still too dazed to speak.

“I bet you needed that huh?” smiling down at you, eyes blown wide with lust.

But even though his finger is plenty thick enough, it’s like your body KNOWS that it wasn’t his cock. You still ache for him, the release just pouring gasoline to the flames licking up your spine.

Your voice is just a whisper when you ask him

“More...” you look up at him, lips puffy and trails of tears running down your face. “Please”

And not for the first time tonight, Uvo almost snaps. He closes his eyes, blinking slowly before he takes a deep breath.

“Fuck baby... yeah, yeah I know what you want. Just. Just let me get you ready first okay?”

You give a reluctant nod and Uvo slides a second finger into you.

Any pain you feel at how thick he is, is masked by the spine curling burn in your veins. All you feel from the stretch is white hot pleasure.

And with a shaky breath your thanking him again, boosting his ego as he flicks his wrist to push and pull at the heat clutching around his fingers.

It feels like he’s stuck in a vice. So tight and wet for him... only ever for him. Eyes blown wide he watches as you shake beneath him, chasing any chance of stopping the pain you feel. He scissors his fingers open. He needs to stretch you out enough to fit.

When you start to get close again he pulls out. While he does want to draw this out, he mostly does it out of curiosity. Wants to see what you’ll do when denied your pleasure.

He gets his answer quickly as you let out a scream of frustration, moving your hands from the sheets beneath you to grip his hair, using all your strength to try and get his mouth down to yours in search of any piece of him you can get.

Obviously he doesn’t budge he’s like a thousand times stronger than you. BUT you do succeed in lifting yourself up to meet his lips, biting at them with a low growl in your throat.

For once in this relationship Uvo feels completely in control. He has you right where he wants you. Completely feral for him. Your reward is not only the return of his digits, but also a third finger fucking deeply into you as well.

“Lay back down” he growls out “ be a good girl for me again”

And you do. You’ll do anything for him. A sigh leaves your lips as the pain recedes, replaced with the pleasure Uvo is giving you. It towed a thin line between pain. Any time he slowed down it creeped into your consciousness again. He was your salvation, your only respite from whatever was doing this to you.

He’s your god, and after what felt like forever, he finally answers your prayers.

“S’gunna sting baby. Don’ wanna hurt you but I can’t... I can’t take any more.”

His fingers are gone. In their place is the head of his cock sliding between the soft petals of your pussy.

Uvo moans at the feeling. The feeling of you wanting him, slick and waiting for him.

Such a pretty little thing. He wants to mark you up, leave your body bruised with his signature. To feel the weight of your breasts in his mouth. Wants to bite down gently on your shoulder and taste the iron of your blood on his tongue. To feel your lips swallowing around him, to drown in the taste of your cunt as it clenches on his tongue. He wants every single part of you. But most of all, He wants to ruin you.

You moan, pulling him out of his reverie. “I - I need more Uvo! Not enough, please.”

All of those things can wait for now. His focus in this moment is on making you realize just how much you need him.

Gritting his teeth he slides the tip in, watching with wide eyes as it disappears inside of you.

It’s stretches you out, a whine escaping at the noticble sting of it. Uvo watches your face before slowly plunging deeper within you. You let out a cry as he stretches you out.

after a few pushes and pulls, slowly fucking you open Uvo finally sinks down until he’s fully sheathed inside, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He’s paralyzed for a moment, his attention solely on how warm and wet you are. It’s firm yet gentle around him. Better than everything he imagined. Like silk, only alive, and he swears he can feel your heartbeat enveloping him.

He buries his head in your neck, licking a stripe up a line of sweat until he’s kissing you again. Swallowing every whimper that slips past your swollen lips.

His mouth stays on yours as he slowly pulls back and ruts his hips against yours completely for the first time. You’re scratching his back and god he wishes you could mark him up. Wishes beyond measure that he could carry the sting of you wherever he goes.

“Yeah..right t-there. Fuck!”

 Your shy demeanor is being forcibly torn away. This is the first time he’s heard you curse, the sound of it making him let out a low growl. Thoughts of how he’s awoken some part of you he’d never seen before floating into his mind. his dirty little girl... he wonders how far he can push you until it becomes too much? It’s a question for another day. One where you’re used to taking his hard length, a day he’s not fucking you open.

“Tell me how you feel sweetheart”

You can’t even remember your own name, let alone construct a fully fledged sentence for the man above you. He’s pressing something deep within you that’s making your head even more dizzy than it was before. You clutch him as he rolls onto his back, laying you on his chest as he swivels his hips up into you, lazily grinding against your clit until your mewling.

“You needed this? Needed me? Just too shy to say it...”

He’s rambling, too far gone with pleasure to dice his words.

“Wanted to fill you up for a long time. You love this huh sweetheart? Love me inside of you like this.. so tight, made for me...All mine.” And then he quiets for a moment. His thoughts leading him elsewhere.

He pulls you tighter against his chest, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. Trailing his hand down to your clit, picking up the pace as he feels the beginning of your orgasm approach.

The pain is a distant memory at this point. The only feeling now was the all consuming pleasure Uvo was giving you. You try to writhe against him as the coil in your stomach threatens to snap, but his grip is iron clad on you. You’re so close, so close that your back starts to try to arch against him.

But with grunt he pulls completely out of you, steeling himself against the agonized wail that pass through your lips.

 “Tell me you love me y/n.”

The denial.. the pain slowly consuming you once again. Your cunt clenches around nothing, broken cries leaving your dry throat.

“Say it and I’ll make you feel better. I’m the only one who can make you feel like this. “

He’s tense but his words are desperate. Brows furrowed as you try, and fail, to squirm out of his grip.

“Uvo...”

“Say it for me sweetheart.”

You gulp, the choice excruciatingly clear as the seconds tick on.

Uvo I ... I love you.” it’s whisper quiet but the way that his fucks back up into your aching core with renewed vigor is proof enough that he’s heard you.

Delirious with your confession he starts talking again. Mumbles interlaced with his sounds of pleasure of how good you are, how tight, how he’d kill anyone who harmed you, whatever you want is yours just say the word, he’s yours. All of him until he draws his last breath.

As he hits that sweet spot inside of you again and again and again the coil snaps. A pleasured cry wrenches what little voice you have left from your sore throat as you’re hit full force. You can’t help how your body thrashes to escape his grip. He makes you cum so hard you almost pass out, black dots clouding your vision as he stills inside of you.

He stops thinking, stops talking as his mouth falls open at the clench of your pussy around him. You squeeze his length, so hard that he doesn’t have to move to cum. He lets your body finish him as he plays with your clit, turning a deaf ear to your overstimulated whine. 

The feeling of your pussy milking the rest of his release inside of you quickly becoming addicting. He’s never cum so hard in his life.

Months of pent of frustration paint your walls, the warmth seeming to soothe what is left of the painful ache of the drugs in your system. You let out a sigh of relief and relax as Uvo moves so he can spoon you, making sure to stay firmly rooted between your legs.

He pets your hair and whispers praises between gentle kiseses to you neck. You must be so exhausted, he knows. You let your eyelids droop, nows not the time to think about consequences. With Uvo’s strong arms wrapped around you, his cock still buried deep, you let yourself be lulled to sleep.