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cambria-writes · 2 years ago

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happy holidays! this is arguably a little late but i’ve had a rough go of it these past few days so i only just finished this tonight lol. Ii insist that i’m not late because we’re still in 2022 and the new year hasn’t hit yet!

anyways this is just a relatively short fluffy feel-good thing because i wanted to feel warm and fuzzy. so it’s absolutely self-indulgent.

word count: 3,229 warnings: swearing, it’s christmas eve and that’s important so that should probably be a warning, no y/n, no mention of gender but ravenloft reader is AFAB, minor ravenloft spoilers if you squint

for reference, this scene (with a bonus crown) is what the reader would’ve drawn.

and for the record, since it was mentioned on ao3, i'm very well aware it shouldn't have been a perception check! ravenloft!reader was never written with the intention of making them a tabletop rpg wiz, they just know enough to get by and follow along if they're sitting in on a game.

𝕽𝖔𝖑𝖑 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝕻𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖊𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

When the phone rang, you didn’t even greet the speaker. You immediately answered with ‘what do you want you fucking menace’ because there’s really only one person who’d call you near midnight like a heathen.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

You snort and wedge the phone between your chin and shoulder and sit back down at your dining table to keep sketching.

“Dunno. Like, all of them?”

“Dude that’s the epitome of unhelpful,” Eddie deadpans, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Right, well like, is there any context to this? Cause you should know I don’t have a favourite colour,” you reply, frowning and erasing a small portion before swiping the eraser shredding away.

“Come on,” Eddie whines, and you can practically see him throwing his head back in annoyance. “Not even one? Like, something that just always makes you happy when you see it?”

You hum for a second and put your pencil down. “I guess maybe black? I—“

“Nah, nuh uh. Boring as hell.”

“Rude, what—“

“Black’s not even a colour, that’s what you constantly say!”

You scoff and pick your pencil back up, switching the phone to the other shoulder.

“Did you seriously just call me in the middle of the night to bitch at me for not having a preferred perceptible wavelength of light?”

There’s an unusually long silence on the other end of the line. You frown again and pull the handset away and follow the coiled line. Confused but satisfied that it hadn’t somehow gotten unplugged from the cradle on the wall, you wedge it back where it was.

“Ed? You good?”

“Yeah, no. Yeah, sorry, just thinking.”

“Jesus, don’t burn yourself out there bud.”

“Oh fuck off.”

The rest of the phone call is relatively short, and colours aren’t mentioned again by the time you hang up. You don’t go to bed until nearly two in the morning, and by then you’re content with having gotten down the main lines of your portrait.

The snowstorm that rolled in on the 23rd was entirely unexpected but wholly welcomed. You were scheduled to work on the 24th, but with the state of the roads and the fact that nearly half of Hawkins was running off of generators, you were graciously allowed to stay home until the new year. And given that this is your first Christmas in your new home, you were more than happy to hunker down and, ha, weather it out.

You’d had plans, sure; Harrington had already made sure everyone knew to show up at his place on the 24th, your parents had been expecting you on Christmas morning and the rest of the day would have been spent going around to see extended family. And though the thought of not being able to fulfill your annual Christmas traditions did dampen your mood, just thinking about the astronomical amount of energy you’d save made it a bit more palatable.

If the same thing were to happen next year, though, you might cry.

You’d already called Steve to let him know you were staying home. Pleasantly surprised, he’d admitted he’d had a whole speech prepared about how he’s have The Swarm tear you a new one if you even dared thinking about touching your car keys. (Which would have been an effective threat, honestly. You really had no interest in giving Dustin a reason to get uppity at you, and you definitely didn’t want to have to deal with Max’s ire. Girl held grudges like you did trauma.)

Your parents were only slightly less understanding, with your mother trying to insist that your father could come pick you up. A little resistance put that all to rest, though, and with a promise to call on Christmas morning, that was dealt with as well.

You’d just settled down on your couch, swaddled in the fluffy blanket you’d gotten from Eddie the year before, mug of hot chocolate held in both hands for warmth, when the doorbell rang. Confused, you look at the time—just after dinner on Christmas Eve—and sigh before heaving yourself off the couch to buzzer by the door. You hesitate for a second before pressing the button to let the mysterious visitor in. You’re already on your way back to your couch, having assumed it was just a neighbour who’d locked themselves out again, when you hear heavy footsteps outside your door.

You quietly walk back up and carefully lean forward to look through the peephole.

“What the…” you mutter, leaning back, nearly jumping out of your skin when the knocking finally comes. You quickly unlatch the chain and unlock the deadbolt before pulling the door open. “Ed, what the fuck—“

“Merry Christmas,” Eddie blurts out, thrusting a box out at you, though it really sounded more like ‘murr cr’sms’.

“Merry Christmas to you too but Jesus come inside!” You pull Eddie through the door by his arm, quickly shutting the door behind you and getting started patting the snow off of him. “The hell did you do, walk here? You look like a damn yeti!”

“Y-yeah I kind-kind of d-did.”

You pause in your patting before grabbing Eddie’s arm again and turning him around to face you. You ‘reabout to ask if he was serious, but a quick glance at his face—reddened cheeks and nose, frosted lashes, dry lips—tells you he has, in fact, told you the truth.

“Fuck me, okay,” you whisper, before shaking your head and getting a move on. “Stay there and take your boots and coat off and then get your ass on that couch, I’m making you coffee.”

You don’t hear any complaints. And though normally you would’ve been glad for the silence, even perhaps proud to have shut him up, Eddie’s silence is, once again, unsettling. And this time you’re pretty sure it’s not because he’s thinking, and most likely because he’s borderline hypothermic.

You try to be quick; you grab that one pair of sweatpants Eddie leant you when you got splashed by a car outside of the arcade. That one metallica shirt you borrowed one time when one Friday movie night turned into an impromptu sleepover. You make your way back to the living room, where thankfully Eddie’s listened to you, and has made himself at home swaddled in the blanket you’d left on the couch. You throw a quick glance to the front door, where his jacket and boots are slowly leaving a growing puddle of snow water.

You definitely need to get a welcome mat or something if this is going to keep happening.

Your first instinct is to chuck the clothes at Eddie’s head. What you would usually do. But it’s Christmas eve, there’s a god damn storm outside and this maniac walked to your place. For some reason. You feel like you owe him to be nicer than you usually would be. Call it the ghost of Christmas conscience.

“Here,” you say quietly, holding out the sloppily folded shirt and sweats. “You can change in here. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Eddie mutters a very stuttery thanks and takes the clothes from you. You pause for a second to see what’s on the TV—seems like A Christmas Story is about halfway through—before hastily turning away when you see Ed starting to lift his shirt over his head.

Coffee, right. You said you’d make coffee.

You’re being so normal about this, it’s absolutely fine. You’re totally fine.

By the time you return to the couch in the living room, Eddie’s clothes are exceptionally neatly folded on your coffee table and he’s even more huddled up in your blanket than he had been before. You place his mug of coffee in his waiting hands and have to bite back shocked laughter when, even outstretched, underneath the blanket, he looks like a frozen T-rex.

“Alright,” you huff out when you finally take your seat on the other end of the couch. “You wanna tell me what’s in that box that was so important that you felt you had to walk here in a storm?”

Eddie sputters in his coffee a bit. When he brings the mug back down, he does look a little sheepish.

“Yeah, y’know it sounds pretty stupid when you say it like that.”

You nod and take a sip of your own coffee. “M’hm. That’s cause risking hypothermia to deliver a gift that very well could’ve waited until the storm passed is pretty stupid. No offense.”

Despite your disclaimer and your attempt to sound light about it, Eddie lapses into silence, again.

“Okay, you keep going quiet, is there something—“

“I didn’t want you to be alone.”

You stop yourself, mouth agape. You bring your coffee mug back up to your lips to try and shake off the surprise.

“I—okay. What, uh, what about Wayne?”

Eddie gestures vaguely under the blanket, and you assume he’s waving the issue of. “He’s with the Hendersons.”

“Oh. That’s…”

“Dustin asked me to go. I said no.”

You frown. “In favour of walking though the snow to get to me?”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie starts, but he doesn’t continue until he takes another long sip from the coffee mug. “Walking wasn’t the plan. Van broke down halfway here.”

“Oh thank god,” you sigh, leaning back into the arm of the couch and pulling your legs up and under you. “I literally thought you walked from your place!”

“God, never,” Eddie laughs, pulling his own feet up on the couch to sit cross-legged. “But I was halfway here and there’s no power at the trailer, so.”

You hum and nod, but otherwise keep your silence. And you both stay like that for a few minutes. And while you’re taking the time to try and bring your BPM down to something a nurse might not scream about, Eddie seems to be appreciating the warmth that you’ve thrown at him.

“So,” you say after a while, clearing your throat and putting your mostly empty mug on the coffee table. “What’s in the box?”

Eddie grins and puts his own mug down. The blanket falls away from his shoulders when he reaches toward to grab said box, and he turns it around in his hands before passing it over to you.

“Wait,” you rush to say, just as he opens his mouth. “Shit, wait, I have,” you trail off, and nearly jump over the back of the couch to run to your room. You quickly snatch the gift bag you’d left on your dresser and run back to the living room, nearly tripping over your own feet. You throw yourself back down onto the couch and shove the bag towards Eddie.

“What—“

“Gift for a gift,” you explain shortly, a little out of breath.

Eddie laughs lightly but takes the gift bag from you, and you eagerly snatch the box from his hands. You’re about to start tearing into the tacky Santa-print wrapping paper, but glance up to make sure it’s okay. Eddie chuckles and nods and motions for you to go ahead.

You make quick work of the paper and nearly tear the top off the box before turning it over in your hand and letting its content drop into your palm.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, turning over the giant cut glass piece in your hand. You hold it up to the do lamplight, and it looks like it’s shimmering from the inside. Every which way you turn it, it’s like each facet is a different colour that reveals itself to you with each new angle.

You don’t miss the fact that there are nineteen carefully carved and painted numbers on each face, and the last one has a little flame where the 20 normally would have been.

You look up to thank Eddie, throat a little tight, but you nearly choke on your own tongue when you see his expression.

He’s holding your gifted frame in his hands like it might break if he holds it too tightly. You can’t really understand the expression on his face, and the more time he spends staring unblinkingly at it, the more unsure you feel.

“I, uh, is it… do you not like it?”

Eddie slowly shakes his head before lifting his eyes up to you. He tries to start a few different sentences before clearing his throat.

“Is this—this is really what you see?”

You let your hands fall into your lap and nervously turn the massive D20 around in them and nod.

“Yeah, I mean. The crown might be a bit much,” you chuckle lightly, looking up and away towards the TV. “But yeah. You look really, uh. You look happy, when you’re DMing for the kids. Really cool. Thought you should be able to, I dunno. See it for yourself.”

When you do muster the courage to turn to look back to Eddie, he still has that absolutely confusing look on your face. You lift the heavy dice in one hand and wave it around a bit.

“This is why you asked for my favourite colour, huh?”

Eddie blinks a bit owlishly at first, but laughs and shakes his head. Slowly, carefully, he puts your gifted portrait on top of his folded clothes. Leans forward to pluck the dice from your hand and gently put it down on the coffee table next to your mug.

“Ed, what’s wr—“

You inhale the rest of your question when Eddie reaches out a hand to grab and pull at one of your ankles. You screw your eyes shut when your head meets the couch cushion below your with a soft ‘thump’. And when you open your eyes, Eddie’s hovering over you, hands braced on the couch arm just above your head. You swallow thickly and promptly forget to breathe for a second.

The end credit music for A Christmas Story feels like it’s playing from miles away.

“You good?” Eddie asks, quietly, and all you can do is nod. “You sure?”

“Yeah, uh huh. Fine,” you whisper, holding your hands close to your chest. Close your eyes when he leans in to rest his forehead against yours. “Why did you really come over?” You whisper, hesitantly uncurling a hand to place it on his chest.

“Missed you.”

“You see me almost every day.”

“Worried about you.”

You snort and lightly slap at his chest. “Bullshit. I own more knives than you do guitar picks.”

Eddie exhales sharply before pulling back a bit. When you open your eyes, you almost want to hide from the tenderness you see in his.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whisper, turning your head to the side to watch the TV turns from black to blue, now that the tape’s over.

“Like what?” Eddie asks, and you can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice when he nuzzles at your neck.

You grunt. “Like, I don’t know. Like you—like…”

“Like you’re the only person I’d drive and walk through a snow storm to see?”

You hum but keep your head resolutely turned away. Shiver when you can feel his lips ghosting against your cheek.

“Like you’re in love with me,” you mutter quietly, screwing your eyes shut.

Eddie slowly peels a hand away from the arm of the couch to turn your head to look at him. You still avert your eyes. He brushes the hair away from your face instead.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he says, almost whines, tilting his head to try to catch your eyes. “You’re smarter than me, you’re not that dumb.”

You huff and cross your arms and finally look up at Eddie. There was some kind of combative quip on the tip of your tongue but it dies there as soon as the look on his face properly registers.

“You’re not fucking around,” you say frowning.

“I’m not fucking around.” Eddie sighs and moves up to kneel on the couch, both knees boxing in your legs. You move up on your elbows and scoot up a bit to lean your back against the arm of the couch.

“Since when do you—“

“Dude, you literally saved me from a swarm of hell bats, somehow managed to team up with a super powered teenage girl to save the world, still don’t think I’m an absolute coward and show up at my doorstep if I call you when I can’t sleep,” Eddie lists off, starting to wave down at your a bit frantically. “And you actually listen to my shitty garage band music!”

“It’s not shitty!”

“You’re proving my damn point, woman!” Ed shouts, swatting your hand away when you go to slap his chest again. “Merry fucking Christmas, I’m in love with you!”

You let yourself slide back down to lie on the couch and laugh when you throw an arm over your face.

“The fuck, this isn’t funny!” Eddie whines, trying to slap your arms away from your face. “This is serious!”

You choke your laughter down enough to say, “Roll for perception.”

“Excuse me?” Eddie squawks, indignantly, pausing his assault on your arms. You lower them just enough to be able to peek at him.

“You heard me, roll for perception.”

Eddie scoffs but turns to grab the massive dichroic dice from the table and gently rolls it along your carpeted floor.

“Huh. 18. Do I get to add my wisdom modifier to that?”

Though you bring your arms down from your face, you still cover it with your hands.

“You’re the only name and phone number I keep in my address book,” you start quietly, biting down on your lips before continuing. “That portrait of you isn’t the first one I’ve ever bothered trying to do. The photo of us Max took in the hospital is the only one I have framed. I hate cashews.”

“But you keep a tin of cashews in the cupboard on top of the f… fridge…”

You nod and part your fingers to catch a glimpse of Eddie. He sighs before shouting and shaking his head.

“Ed, what the—“

“Why are we so stupid complicated!” He shouts again, but it peters out into laughter. “Jesus, why can’t we just say shit like normal people?”

“We hate normal people,” you deadpan, slowly letting your hands slide down your face. “So, uh,” you start, curling your fingers under your chin. “Merry, uh, Merry fucking Christmas, I lo—I love you too?”

Eddie closes his eyes and tilts his head back to sigh like you’ve just given him a glass of water after spending weeks in the desert.

You move to half sit up on your elbows again.

“Hey, you—“

“Does this mean I can kiss you now and you’re not going to think I’m just doing it because it’s the holidays and there was mistletoe over your door?”

You blink for a second and pull yourself up on the arm of the couch and twist around to look at your door. Huh. Sure as shit, there it is.

“Oh. Mrs H must’ve put that up when she came over,” you say nervously, but when you turn around you’re shocked, both because of the still-freezing hand that comes up to your jaw and the lips that are pressed almost chastely against yours.

“God bless Mrs H,” Eddie whispers, and your laughter is a quick huff before you loop your arms around his neck to pull him down against you for another kiss.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #holiday fic #christmas fi #fluff #no sad feelings here #mentions of el dustin and max #Minor ravenloft spoilers if you squint #ravenloft #Christmas #holidays #christmas eve #roll for perception

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maatryoshkaa · 4 years ago

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between the lines | lee minho

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔

✑ Late fines, shared lockers, and a missing love letter:

In which a frantic search for an overdue library book leads to you finding other things that are...long overdue.

✑ PAIRING: student librarian!minho x bookworm!reader

✑ GENRE: retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, slight enemies-to-lovers shenanigans

✑ WORD COUNT: 9.7k

✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying themes, skz are all around the same age. mc is insecure and a bit of a valentine's day grinch. minho is whipped but too hardheaded to admit it. also, an embarrassing amount of classic literature/pablo neruda references.

Ah, Valentine’s Day.

Call it the most romantic day of the year if you will, but in the treacherous hallways of Levanter High, it meant a minefield of hormonal couples, crushed chocolate boxes, and supermarket rose bouquets. Clutching your backpack with a grimace, you narrowly dodged a pigtailed cheerleader as she leapt into her jock boyfriend’s waiting arms. Turning into another hallway, you plugged your ears to block out a senior boy’s cold rejection of a freshman’s nervous love confession.

You finally caught sight of your locker and breathed a sigh of relief. Levanter High’s lockers were split in half lengthwise��one top row, and one bottom row. You dropped to a crouch to wrench yours open—you’d lost your lock a couple of weeks ago—trying to block out the early morning commotion as you rummaged for your English books.

“Hey, watch ou—”

The locker above yours opened with a screech, and you looked up just in time to see a pink avalanche of cards and chocolates raining down on your head in a painful, deafening crash. The student who had called out the warning was frozen with a comical look of shock on her face. You swore the entire hallway fell silent, blood rushing to your cheeks as you slowly raised your gaze at the person who had opened the locker.

Lee Hana—head cheerleader of Levanter’s pep squad, and in your humble opinion, the spawn of Satan herself.

“Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her mouth in mock horror, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

The crowd around you was beginning to snicker and point, and you felt your face growing redder by the minute. “What are you doing here?” You asked tersely, motioning towards the locker above yours. “That’s not even your locker.”

Hana smiled and held up a small, glittery package. Oh. You didn’t have to look closer to know that the envelope was a love letter, elaborately tied to a box of expensive chocolates—the kind your parents would probably have to work overtime to afford. “My Valentine—for your locker buddy,” Hana replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Not that you would understand, hm? Since you’ve never received one yourself, and all.”

A smattering of laughs erupted from the crowd that was building around you. Biting back a retort, you looked down at all the other Valentine’s trinkets that had spilled around you. Of course—you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, your locker was right underneath the one that belonged to the student librarian, school heartthrob, and the absolute bane of your existence, Lee—

“Minho!” Hana exclaimed, and you looked up to see him shuffling through the crowd, his eyes briefly falling on yours. You immediately turned away as the pretty cheerleader skipped up to him, and shoved your books into your bag. Slamming your locker shut—twice, because Levanter’s damned lockers always jammed before shutting properly—you snatched up as many of Minho’s fallen Valentine’s Day trinkets as you could before shoving them back into the now-emptied top locker. The metal door was still swinging wide open. You’d overheard Minho complaining to the boy who always did the announcements—Han Jihyun? Han Jisung?—about how he kept losing his own lock. Both of you seemed to have a habit of misplacing things (not that you liked to admit to that similarity).

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho was still watching you over Hana’s shoulder, his lips tilted in a half-smile. Your gut twisted unpleasantly. Four years and counting—that was how long you’d ended up with a locker right under Minho’s.

“You’re so lucky!” Lia—your best friend—had gushed, while you had scoffed in utter disbelief.

“Oh, sure. Just my rotten luck.”

“Come on, y/n. Are you still hung up about that love letter from freshman year?”

Yes, you had thought sourly. “No way,” you had snapped, and Lia had giggled, unconvinced.

It wasn’t like you’d always had a personal vendetta against Minho. In fact, in ninth grade, you’d been head over heels for him, just like the rest of the student body—to the point where you’d even slipped a small love letter into his locker on Valentine’s Day, too. It had been one of those gaudy 99-cent corner-store cards, and you'd saved up your pocket money just to buy a matching pack of candy hearts. Then you’d spent the day with butterflies in your stomach, anxiously waiting nearby his locker to see his reaction.

But when he hadn’t shown up, you'd shrugged and begun heading home—and that was when you had caught sight of Minho, throwing all the love letters he’d received straight into the Dumpsters in the back parking lot.

Talk about a reality check.

As if that hadn't been traumatizing enough, you’d been forced to face him nearly every morning for the following three years. To make matters worse, being Minho’s involuntary locker mate also meant that all the girls—and guys, for that matter—saw you as little more than a stepping stone to him, always asking you to relay party invitations or trying to curry favour with you to get to him.

“We’re not close,” you’d insist to his persistent admirers every time, but it didn’t help. Minho, on the other hand, you thought bitterly, seemed to think he was too good for anyone—he didn’t even respond much to Hana’s advances, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. There was no way he’d even look twice at you—you’d been firsthand witness to that. You finally gave up trying to clean up the fallen Valentines, and stood up with a sigh. Throwing him a death glare, you pushed past the crowd just as the bell rang and students began scurrying away.

What did it matter if Lee Hana was trying to get with Minho? If anything, they were a match made in heaven. Or hell. With a decided huff, you plopped yourself down at your desk just as your English teacher began class.

“We’re starting the poetry unit today! Remember, you’ll be writing a love poem of your own for the final project—so I suggest you all get started on reading!” You teacher had winked and clapped her hands excitedly while a collective groan had swept through your class. A few couples had nudged each other meaningfully, already promising to write their poems about each other, and you’d thrown up a little in your mouth.

Romance was a bit of a touchy subject for you— now, you didn’t hate the notion of love, per se, you’d just always been somewhat...wary of it. After watching your friends fall in and out of disastrous relationships and fleeting feelings from the sidelines too many times to count, your own defense mechanisms had skyrocketed, and now you found yourself trying not to roll your eyes at every piece of romantic writing you read. Still, this inexperience only made you more determined to get a head start on the topic— and so, once the last bell had rung, you made a beeline for the school library. You would tackle love the only way you knew how to—by hitting the books. Pushing open the door, you overheard Hana and her friends muttering in disappointment and immediately recoiled.

“You said he’d be in here!”

“Well, I thought I saw him! Let’s wait for a bit.”

You peeked over the librarian’s desk, and sure enough, it was vacant— save for a tray of half-shelved books and stamping cards. Maybe Minho left early today, you thought, shrugging. That’s a relief. Then you shook your head quickly. What’s it to me whether he’s here or not? You tried to ignore Hana’s disdainful glance at you, heading straight towards your favourite nook at the back of the library instead: a cozy alcove tucked behind the last row of shelves. With a deep sigh, you pulled out the first book of poetry your teacher had assigned—Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets—and sank into the bean bag chair.

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May…’

A couple lines in, and the Englishman’s words were already making your head spin. You grimaced, massaging your temples. ‘A summer’s day?’ Seriously? You could swear you’d seen something less cheesy on a dollar store card. After a couple of pages, you could already feel your treacherous eyelids beginning to droop, fighting to stay awake as you tried to make sense of Shakespeare’s verses. But thy eternal summer...shall not fade...nor lose...possession…

“The library’s closing.”

You jolted awake, hands fumbling blindly before you could even force your eyes open. The library came into focus first—the lights had been dimmed, the flickering EXIT sign from the empty hallway casting a warm glow through the panelled window across the room. A dull headache still throbbed in your temples.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes groggily. You had to practically peel your cheek away from the Shakespeare book, fingers gingerly feeling the dent the cover had left in your cheek. “I-I’m so sorry, I must have—lost track of time studying.”

A familiar chuckle sent your heart plummeting to your stomach. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

When your eyes finally adjusted, your expression automatically soured into a glare.

“Now that’s more like it.” Smirking, Minho crossed his arms, leaning back on a bookshelf. He glanced down at the book in your lap—the book that you clearly hadn’t been studying. “Didn’t know you were one for Shakespeare.”

“I—” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not. His writing gives me a headache. It’s like it’s all in another language or something.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Old English. Why are you reading it, then?”

“We’re doing poetry in class—and our final project is to write an actual love poem, based on the poets we’ll study. Shakespeare was just first on the reading list, so…” you felt yourself trailing off, flustered. Why were you even bothering to explain this to Minho, who probably couldn’t care less? “Nevermind.”

You felt his piercing gaze on you as you shoved your books into your bag, glancing outside at the nearly emptied parking lot. If you squinted, you could spot a couple—Seo Changbin, judging by the male’s iconic leather jacket, and his lover—making out under the bleachers. You shook your head incredulously. Valentine’s Day. Love poems. Hormonal couples galore. It was like the universe was playing a long, cruel joke on you: Ha-ha, look who’s spending Valentine’s Day studying in the library alone.

Well, alone except for a student librarian with whom you had a mortifying history. Not much better. Eager to leave, you got to your feet, only to see Minho flipping through a smaller book he’d pulled off the shelf next to him. “If you want some real inspiration,” he began slowly, pushing up his glasses, “I’d suggest you start closer to our time period.”

You looked down at the book he was holding up, brow furrowing as you read the title out loud. “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda.”

“The best Chilean poet of the 20th century,” he nodded. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’”

It took you a second to realise Minho was quoting a poem, and you were suddenly grateful that the dimly lit library hid the flush of red that had betrayed your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “That actually sounds...kind of pretty.”

He didn’t look up, but you thought you saw the corners of his mouth shoot up ever so slightly. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on you? Flipping through the book, Minho fished out a pad of sticky notes from his back pocket and marked a few pages. “Here. ‘The Song of Despair’...‘Tonight I Can Write’...‘Here I Love You.’ Those are good.” Clamping the book shut, he held it out towards you.

You almost thanked him, but the words faltered on your tongue as you took it from him suspiciously. “What’s with the sudden helpful attitude?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.” You raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he smirked. “Consider it my apology for this morning, then.”

That left you at a real loss for words, and for the first time, you struggled to find a retort. “That’s...considerate of you, apologising on behalf of your girlfriend and all.”

“Hana’s not my girlfriend.”

You breathed a small laugh. “Soon-to-be, then. Don’t break her heart.”

Minho scoffed, bringing the book to the front desk and scrawling your name on the sign-out card. He stamped the dates, then held it out at you before glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen, the empty football field lit only by rows of flickering lampposts. “You can get home safe?”

“Screw off, Lee Minho.” You eyed him warily, shoving the book into your bag before practically running to the double doors. The strange atmosphere that had suddenly built up in the library felt terrifyingly foreign to you, and your first instinct was to be rid of it as soon as possible. In the hallway, you spotted a janitor dumping a bin into a trash bag. A familiar avalanche of pink envelopes and gifts caught your eye, and you felt a wave of humiliation. Just the memory of Minho throwing yours out—after reading it and having a good laugh, no doubt—made you want to ram your head into the lockers all over again. You’ve got no chance with him, y/n, you thought blearily. Right when you’d thought you’d finally come to terms with Minho’s brutal (albeit unintentional) rejection, here he was again: crashing back into your life like some...cat-eyed, pointy-nosed meteor.

“Oh, y/n! One more thing.”

You’d already had one foot out the front door when Minho called your name again, making you jerk your head back in surprise. Minho had his bag slung over one shoulder, a pile of books in his arms as he waved to get your attention. His smile looked almost...genuine in the warm shadows, his round glasses softening his usually sharp gaze. Despite yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat.

Then Minho made a wiping motion over his face and grinned. “You’ve got drool on your chin.”

Your face reddened, and you slammed the library door shut, earning a glare from the janitor down the hall. Smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead repeatedly, you stormed out of the school muttering curses under your breath. Typical Lee Minho.

To your surprise, you practically devoured the poems in less than a week, taken aback at how much you genuinely enjoyed them. It was the first time you didn’t find yourself cringing at romance—and sure enough, in a couple days’ time, you found yourself reluctantly standing back in front of the double doors of the school library once again.

Carefully, you craned your head to peep into the panelled window, scanning the room for Minho. As per usual, a gaggle of girls were huddled on the other side, blocking your view.

“Looking for someone?”

Flinching, you nearly tripped on Hana’s long legs as she came up beside you. Before you could respond, she fixed you with a withering look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Little Miss Perfect.”

“I—sorry?”

The cheerleader rolled her eyes, sneering. “Don’t act all innocent with me, you sneaky b—”

Sighing, you pushed open the doors before she could finish. Hana followed you into the library, still sputtering angrily. Her hand snatched your arm, French manicure digging painfully into your cardigan.

“The Valentines,” she hissed, and it finally clicked.

She’s talking about the love letters, you realized. The ones Minho throws out every year.

Gut twisting, you looked up to see all the other girls crossing their arms and looking back at you expectantly. “None of you...got a response?” You asked incredulously, already knowing the answer. This happened every year: Expectant admirers showered Minho’s locker with gifts, Minho wouldn’t even glance at them— and then, for some reason, you were left to take the blame. A twinge of annoyance shot through your chest.

“You stole them from his locker, didn’t you?” Hana continued accusingly, pupils shaking. “You sneaky, jealous bitch— of course you did.”

He threw them all out, you wanted to scream back at her, but the words wouldn’t budge from your tongue. Somehow, saying them out loud felt like tearing off the stitches of an old wound; a painful reminder of your personal humiliating memory. And—though you hated to admit it—a small part of you still didn’t have the heart to throw Minho under the bus just yet, even after all that he’d done.

Feeling defeated, you sighed and turned towards her. “Why would I want to do that?”

Hana scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls over one shoulder. “Oh, please. We all know you’ve had a massive one-sided crush on him since ninth grade.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, the other girls’ snickers at your reaction drowning out any of your protests. “That’s not—”

“Not true? Then—is it mutual?” Hana sneered mockingly. “Don’t make me laugh. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of y—”

“Can I help you with anything?”

The small crowd fell silent as Minho appeared from one of the aisles, eyebrows raised slightly in his usual nonchalant manner. A chill of panic rushed down your spine, palms growing clammy with cold sweat. H-how much did he overhear? In your peripheral, Hana was practically batting her eyelashes at him, but Minho’s mild eyes were focused on yours expectantly.

“I—uh. Well,” you stammered eloquently, your entire body suddenly paralyzed. Hana’s cherry red lips were twisted in a smug smirk, clearly waiting for you to embarrass yourself. “The book,” you blurted, immediately rummaging for the poetry book in your bag and holding it out to him.

Minho took it from you, fingertips grazing yours slightly. They were surprisingly warm. “How’d you find it?”

“R-really good, actually.” Then, you hesitantly added, “I...like the way Neruda uses imagery—he’s precise without being plain, and artful without deviating too much into purple prose. I think I liked Tonight I Can Write the most— y’know, ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines...’” You swallowed, then instantly began regretting having ever spoken. Great job, y/n, now you sound like a full-blown nerd.

But Minho nodded, his eyes gleaming. “‘I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me, too.’”

“That’s the second verse,” you muttered automatically, and his lips twitched.

“It’s one of my favourite lines.”

The other girls had begun to awkwardly shuffle out of the library, their absence easing your racing heart. With just a few mildly spoken words, you noted, Minho had managed to make you feel as though you had blocked out the rest of the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Hana glaring daggers at you, and the small smile dropped from your face.

“Do you need something?” Minho asked her blankly, his gaze trailing down to Hana’s hand, which was still painfully latched onto your arm. With a roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library.

As soon as she was gone, you breathed an audible sigh of relief. Minho was peeling the sticky notes off from the poetry book you’d returned, eyes still watching you intently. Giving him the side-eye, you deadpanned, “She’s pretty, you know. Maybe you should go talk to her sometime.”

There was a small smile on Minho’s lips. “Does she like Chilean poetry?”

You could only give a short—slightly too shaky for your liking—laugh in response, ruffling your own hair as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves. Don’t forget, y/n. One, that he’s out of your league. Two, how this was all his fault to begin with.

“Is that all you came here for?” Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts again, making you jump. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He finds this—me—amusing.

“Well…” you looked down at your feet, then grudgingly nodded at the poetry book you’d just returned. “Do you...have any other recommendations?”

Minho’s face broke into a shit-eating grin, and you bit back a groan. before your pride got the better of you and you changed your mind, he was already heading towards the back of the library, sliding books out as you struggled to keep with his pace. “First of all, Dickinson. Hit-or-miss, but you never know. Then there’s Sylvia Plath, some Emily Brontë…”

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked into a world of verse and metaphor, flying between numerous time periods and continents as you and Minho perused the shelves. Just like the time when you had accidentally fallen asleep in the library, the library seemed to grow cozier, quieter, more peaceful during moments like these, as if the entire world was holding still as you lost yourself in pages upon pages of books. Soon, you found yourself heading to the library nearly every day after school. Despite yourself, you found yourself looking forward to that sunset hour, the fleeting period where most students had left, and the entire library would glow warm as though it were blushing under the swathes of golden light. And in these same fleeting moments, you found your gaze lingering more and more on Minho—the way he would push his silver glasses on, furrowing his brow in concentration whenever he searched for a book, or run his long fingers over their worn spines whenever he was lost in thought—

“Like what you see?” With a flinch, you realised Minho had begun walking back towards you, a crooked smirk on his lips as he set a new pile of books down at the desk you were sat at.

“No!” You snapped, too quickly. “Just—spaced out for a bit. Too concentrated on the project.”

The smirk hadn’t budged from Minho’s face, and you resisted the urge to throw a copy of Emily Dickinson’s Selected Poems at his long, pointy nose. “Mm. You seem to be coming here a lot more often.”

“That’s because the due date is coming up.”

“No. I mean, you seem to be talking to me a lot more.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching a book from the top of his pile as you muttered, “Screw you, Lee Minho.”

His eyebrows shot up in wicked mischief. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

With a cry of exasperation—and surprise at having been heard—you hoisted your book bag onto the table, building a makeshift wall between the two of you.

You didn’t catch the way Minho’s laughter slowly faded as he rested his head on one hand thoughtfully, quietly watching you read. Your lips were pursed in concentration as you muttered your notes under your breath. Cute, he couldn’t help thinking.

Minho had always been good at memorizing things, but he couldn’t remember exactly when you’d begun disliking him so much. You had always intrigued him—what with the way your locker always seemed to be overflowing with books, or how you used to lend him your copy when he forgot his, back in ninth grade. That Valentine’s Day, four years ago, your name had been the only one he’d hoped to find as he rifled through the cards he’d received. But he’d come up empty, and so he’d thrown them all out. And for some reason, you’d been cold to him ever since.

Minho had assumed that you were probably annoyed with all the letters that would fall out of his locker and onto you, and so every year he tried his best to get rid of the Valentines as soon as possible. Nevertheless, you only seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with him.

And now here you were, right in front of him, four years later, and he still couldn’t bring himself to ask you why. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—his words always seemed to come out too blunt, too cold, too soon, and so he’d always avoided bringing it up with you again. Minho sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Written words—that is, books—had always been so much easier than people.

He did, however, remember when he’d started falling for you.

Tenth grade, literature studies. He’d begun arguing against your thesis during one of your presentations, and the two of you had ended up bickering the entire class—pulling out quotes from nearly every chapter of Pride and Prejudice before the class president had to intervene, and your teacher had sent you both to detention.

You had glared at him once, and he’d fallen head over heels.

These violent delights have violent ends, he’d mused in his head back then—Romeo and Juliet—and with the murderous stare Minho sometimes caught you fixing him with, he was willing to bet that you were wishing a violent end on him, too.

He couldn’t pen a love letter to save his life, either— and so, he resorted to pettily glaring at any admirer that approached your locker like Gandalf—you shall not pass—until they backed off. Minho didn’t think you would appreciate him revealing that, either. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his actions seemed—and like a poorly written plot twist, you had ended up stumbling back into his life again. Never in his life, however, did Minho think that Pablo Neruda would become his wingman. Glancing down at his portrait on the back cover of the book, Minho could almost imagine the Chilean poet pointing his pen threateningly: “Don’t screw this up.”

“Hey, Minho?” He snapped out of his thoughts to see you waving your hand at him from the other side of your book bag. “You were right. I don’t get any of Dickinson’s poems.”

Your words took a moment to register, Minho caught off-guard by the soft golden hour light illuminating your pretty features. You waved your hand in his face again, and he blinked, breath caught in his throat. Almost tripping over his tongue, he finally quipped, “How on earth are you passing AP English?”

You glowered and smacked his shoulder, the near-silent library ringing with Minho’s laughter once again.

With a week left to the deadline, you were planted at your desk in your room, the wastebasket littered with crumpled up half-sheets of notebook paper. To your dismay, none of the words seemed to be coming out the way you wanted them to. Gnawing the back of your pencil in frustration, you dumped the contents of your book bag onto the desk, and spotted your latest library book—100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda. Inexplicably, out of all the poets Minho had introduced to you, you always found yourself coming back to him.

Flipping through the well-thumbed pages, your fingers stopped at one titled Sonnet XVII. “I love you without knowing how,” your eyes scanned the verse curiously, “or when, or from where. I love you simply…”

It was the poem Minho had quoted that evening in the library, you realized, heart skipping a beat. “...without problems or pride / I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving / but this, in which there is no I or you / so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand / so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.”

With a sigh, you buried your head in your arms, lying face-down onto the desk. Maybe the reason why you instinctively disliked reading love poems so much was because of the sheer sincerity of them all. You envied their ability to put feelings into words—with unabashed, unapologetic ardour, and be celebrated for it, to boot. Eyes scanning the verses again, your mind wandered to the way Minho’s eyes had lit up as he’d explained the lines to you, his brow furrowed in focus.

At Levanter High, you had grown used to being pushed around and out of the spotlight. It was either the popular girls and their backhanded compliments, or the boys who spoke to you condescendingly just to a) get you to do their homework, or b) get in your pants. But Minho had always taken you seriously, albeit while driving you half-insane with his infuriating remarks. And as much as you hated to admit it, that same fiery look in his eyes whenever he got worked up—so different from his usual reserved facade in front of the teachers and swooning students—had always made your heart skip a beat. In tenth grade—back when he seemed to pick a fight with you nearly every English class until Bang Chan had to hold the two of you back from killing each other—you’d thought you’d successfully quashed your feelings for the mild-voiced, hazel-eyed librarian. Yet every time he spoke, he left you feeling vulnerable, disarmed, and you were back��though you refused to admit it—to square one.

“‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,’” you whispered, fingers tracing the words on the paper. Feeling a sudden surge—of confidence, or simply exasperation, you weren’t sure—you seized the pen and began scribbling on a new piece of paper. For years, you’d been afraid to face your feelings, terrified of the humiliation if Hana—or anyone at school—found out. But if getting them all out in one cheesy, hot mess of a love letter could give you some closure, you thought tensely, you were more than happy to oblige. You would write it all out under the guise of a love poem, and then it would never have to see the light of day again.

Words began coming to your head like a floodgate had been thrown wide open, and you began scrawling onto the page. “‘I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,’” you quoted thoughtfully as you drafted your own poem. In a way, it felt cathartic—you could get all your feelings out, pass it off as an assignment, and never think about the forbidden fruit again. For all you knew, it was a win-win situation. The pen kept wobbling, ink spilling out haphazardly and skipping, but you relaxed slightly. Maybe this assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.

Head filled to the brim with poetry, you set the pen down and dozed off.

“You’re not coming to the football game?” Lia flashed puppy eyes at you, and you smacked her hand playfully, swiping a french fry from her plate.

“Lia, since when have I ever gone to one?” The two of you had dropped by the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe for a quick pick-me-up during lunch hour, but one smile from the cute waiter—Yang Jeongin, if you remembered his name correctly—had dazzled Lia into ordering an extra burger combo, complete with a plate of fries. “Sports and crowds—not my thing. And I have an English project due the next day.”

She pouted. “Oh, come on! Knowing you, you’ve probably already finished it by now.”

You grinned, thinking back to your love poem and fighting the urge to cringe. You’d read it the morning after, and it had taken every fibre in your being to hold yourself back from ripping it to shreds. Piercing, catlike eyes, you’d written in one line. Silver spectacles. Long fingers on dusty pages. Shuddering, you’d stuffed it into the Neruda book before banishing them both to your locker and going about your day. Love poems are supposed to be cheesy, y/n, suck it up. It’ll only be this one time. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone other than your teacher would ever read it.

When you dropped by the library after school, you spotted Hana’s familiar figure by one of the cubicles. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh muted by the plexiglass windows, you saw that she was talking to a grinning Minho.

“Are you sure you’re not coming to the game on Thursday?” Hana was whining as you pushed open the doors to the library. She patted his arms playfully. “You could be on the football team if you wanted to, you know! Why don’t you try?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”

“Well, tell you what. They’re having a party at Hyunjin’s place right after—his parents are out of town. If you don’t feel like coming to the game, at least join us at the afterparty to loosen up a little—have a little fun.” She blew him a kiss and stood, throwing her purse over her shoulder and spotting you. You instinctively froze, bracing yourself for whatever slew of insults she had for you today, but all Hana did was beam and wave at you.

As she passed you by the door, she threw you a knowing wink. “Have fun on your little study date!”

Her words made your ears grow hot again, but to your surprise, there was no trace of venom in her voice — only a lighthearted teasing, as if she had been your friend all along. Hana really did look sweet when she smiled genuinely, and you could see why she had so many people easily wrapped around her finger. Maybe people do change. Or she’s just in a good mood. Before you could shrug and turn away, you sensed Minho’s presence behind you and yelped.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, and you could swear he was suppressing a laugh. “Here to work on your project again?”

Hana’s strange exchange with you on her way out had left your mind reeling, and you scrambled to form coherent sentences. “No, I, um—I actually finished it last night. I just…” Thought I’d just drop by to say hi. But your pride turned the words to mush before they had even formed, and you ended up trailing off awkwardly.

“Really?” There was a flash of disappointment in his face, then Minho’s gaze landed on the book-borrowing register on the front desk. “Right—your book is due today. Did you want to return it?”

Your eyes widened, silently cursing at your own forgetfulness. “Um—yes,” you lied, pretending to search in your bag before giving an awkward laugh. “Yep. I think it’s in my locker—let me go get it.”

After jogging to the other side of the school, you flung open the bottom locker, making another mental note to replace your missing lock. Still catching your breath, your hand sifted through the notes and textbooks before coming up empty. Where is it? You could swear you remembered putting it there, unless—

Breath catching in your throat, you shut the locker with a mortified bang. The English classroom. You practically sprinted down the hallways, earning another dirty look from the janitor as you raced past. Bang Chan looked up in alarm when you nearly crashed into the English classroom door. The entire room was empty, save for the class president, who looked like he was helping to file the teacher’s papers.

“Where’s the fire?” He asked jokingly as your eyes frantically raked the room.

“Have you—seen a book, by any chance? 100 Love Sonnets. Pablo Neruda.”

Chan frowned. “We shelve all the books after class, and if it’s one we don’t recognize, we keep it until the students come back in the morning.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing anything.”

Your heart sank, and you saw the corners of Chan’s mouth lift bemusedly.

“What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought you hated love po—”

With a groan of frustration, you left the baffled class president staring after you as you turned on your heel and back into the hallway. Your mind was racing, panic making your ears buzz. The love letter’s in there. Where the hell did I put it? You sprinted to the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe next, but only got an apologetic shrug from Jeongin even after you’d scoured every nook and cranny of the diner. The sun was already beginning to set as you trudged, defeated, back to the school. Spotting the library’s dim windows in the distance, you wrestled with your options — if it weren’t for that cursed love letter, you could’ve probably just told Minho you’d misplaced it. But now the book—along with everything you’d never dared to tell anyone, crammed onto a sheet of notebook paper—could be anywhere, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop looking until you found it. Heart heavy with dread, you did a full 180 and began walking home.

It was no use. You’d practically pulled an all-nighter tearing your room apart searching for the book— and then, the better part of the following day running around town. But no matter where you looked—the record shop, Blockbuster’s, or even the laundromat—you came up empty.

It’s like it’s disappeared entirely, you thought as the lunch ladies piled your tray with a few sad-looking burritos. The cafeteria was buzzing with teenagers jittery with caffeine and sugar, and you had to duck as a boy chucked an apple at another across the room. You passed the cheerleaders’ table, trying to avoid eye contact, but their giggly conversation carried over the chaotic commotion.

“Did you see how cute Hyunjin looked today on the field?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Maybe Hana can talk to him for us—if he doesn’t fall for her first.” The blonde cheerleader that had spoken nudged the older girl insistently.

“Me?” There was a smile in Hana’s voice. You could feel her eyes on you as she mused, “Oh, I don’t know, Hyunjin’s not my type. I much prefer boys with—how should I put it—catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long fingers perfect for turning dusty pages…” She clasped her hands together in mock adoration, and her friends erupted in giggles.

“What the hell was that? Sounds like a cheesy love poem.”

You had frozen stiff as soon as she had uttered the words, stunned eyes finding Hana’s only a couple feet away. She gave you a winning smile—the same one you’d deemed friendly just a couple days ago—and winked.

“Give me my book back.”

You pulled her aside after the last bell had rung, voice shaking. Hana only tilted her head innocently, eyes round as a puppy’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before you could spit a biting retort back at her, the taller cheerleader tapped her chin thoughtfully with one bejewelled nail. “But I might think harder if...I got a little something in return.”

You grit your teeth. “What do you want?”

“Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party as my date,” Hana beamed, “and tell the office you want to change your locker.”

“You’re crazy,” you blurted, and her face immediately darkened. Dropping her voice, she leaned in closer, until her voice was right beside your ear.

“Oh, I can be even crazier. What would happen if I made copies of this little letter on Monday, hm? Or published it in the school paper for everyone to read? I’m sure Han Jisung would love that—”

Your eyes trailed down to the slip of paper she’d pulled out of her purse, the sight of your own familiar handwriting making panic surge through your veins like ice. Snatching it from her hand, you quickly began tearing it apart before noticing the calm smirk on Hana’s face.

“Photocopy, silly,” she giggled in a sing-song voice as you peered more closely at the shredded pieces, hands shaking. “Oh, all right, don’t cry. If you want the original so badly…” she leaned in again, cruel smile on her lips. “Then you might want to look in the library.”

Eyes widening, you immediately pushed her away and bolted for the stairs. “Don’t forget the deal! Thursday night,” Hana called after you, and you broke into a run.

Most of the classrooms were already empty, their dark windows reflecting your own face back at you as you hurtled past them. Your heart pounded in your chest as the library finally came into view at the end of the hallway, but you nearly came to a screeching halt when you saw that the lights had been turned off. Had Minho gone home early? Chewing your lip anxiously, you peered past the plexiglass. Aisles empty, books all shelved neatly, chairs stacked. The library was quiet as a tomb. Desperately, you tried the knob—and to your surprise, the door creaked open. Maybe he forgot to lock it. You had nothing to lose. Holding your breath, you slipped in.

Even the faint click of the door closing again sounded deafening. You rifled through the front desk first, dropping to a crouch as you inspected the carts and borrowing-bin. To your dismay, they were all empty—they must have all been re-shelved already. Heart sinking, you began tip-toeing through the shelves, fingers trembling as they ran over the laminated Dewey Decimal labels. Please, please, please…

You reached the poetry section at the back of the library, eyes squinting to try and read the spines of the books under shrouds of shadows. Poets— Nash. Naidu. Nemerov…

“Neruda,” you gasped, eyes falling on the book you had practically gone through hell searching for. 100 Love Sonnets. Almost sobbing in sheer relief, you reached out to grab it—just as another hand shot out from beside you. Your yelp of surprise broke the still, dim quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who the warm, pale fingers belonged to.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

Spectacles glinting under the twilight, one hand in his pocket, nonchalant as ever, was the boy that had gotten you into this mess. Lee Minho.

As you stared back at him, mouth slightly agape, you felt as though your entire world was balancing precariously over a yawning abyss— as if one wrong move would send everything you’d spent the last two months—no, the last four years—repatching. You swallowed hard. His hand had landed a split-second later than yours, holding both you and the book in place, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his warm fingers on your chilled skin. Forcefully, you yanked the book from the shelves and out of his grasp. “The—book. I-I realised I still needed it for the project. It’s due this Friday, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Today’s only Wednesday. Why not come back tomorrow morning?”

Shit. “I, um, promised Lia I’d go with her to the game tomorrow,” you fibbed, flipping through the book quickly, ready to grab any stray piece of paper that flew out. Nothing. “So I—need to finish the assignment today. Could you renew it for me?” Trying to plaster on an unbothered smile, you flipped through the book again. Still nothing. Had Hana lied to you?

In your peripheral, you saw Minho slowly shift his weight, crossing his arms as he mused, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. We’re getting...careful about letting students borrow books for too long. People tend to leave some...strange things in them.”

Your eyes snapped up, fingers freezing on the fluttering pages. “What—then did you—see anything? S-strange, I mean.”

A flicker of amusement passed through Minho’s eyes, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat, humming thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

The strange intensity of his gaze seemed to corner you into the shadows, and you swore your heart was pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the room. “Nothing,” you stammered, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I mean, I just—accidentally left—” Kill me now. You shook your head rapidly. “N-nevermind. I’m heading home.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh, one more thing.” You turned, remembering Hana’s sly words to you back in the stairwell. “You’re invited to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, after the game on Thursday.” Then, hoping you sounded more convincing than you felt, “Hana’s really counting on you to be her date.”

Minho chuckled. “You know I go to parties as often as you do.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in his words, only that same, airy indifference Minho always carried himself with. “Please? Hana—I mean, it would make her really happy if you went.”

“Would you be happy?”

The strange question caught you off guard, making you look up again. Minho was no longer smiling. His hand was still resting lightly over the missing space the book had left on the shelf, and his expression looked strangely lost under the twilit sky.

“Would it make you happy if I went?” He repeated, and you felt your mouth go dry.

Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, and I won’t publish your little love letter for everyone to see on Monday. You nodded firmly, laughing in an attempt to ease the strange atmosphere that had settled over the two of you once again. “Y-yeah. Ecstatic.”

You turned on your heel, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh. If the poem wasn’t in the book, where on earth could it be? Option one: It had fallen out somewhere along the way, and hadn’t fallen into anyone’s hands. The best case scenario. Option two: Hana had been playing with you again, and she had had the original all along. Option three…

“By the way, Hana told me not to give this to you.”

You whirled around in surprise, and your eyes landed on a horribly familiar piece of notebook paper dangling from Minho’s fingers. Option three, damn it all. Mortified, you snatched it from his hand, crumpling it into your fist as he laughed lightly.

“It’s a very good poem.”

“Shut up, Lee Minho,” you wailed, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and bury you six feet under for all of eternity. “It’s a cheesy, cliché wreck.”

He hummed in amusement. “What were you writing about?”

Paralyzed, your eyes flickered towards the window before sputtering, “The—sunset. Figurative approach, you know? Emily Dickinson-inspired—”

“Mm. Then what was that quote about—” He tilted his head in thought, fingers snapping. “Catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long—” He stopped when you plugged your ears instinctively, eyes glowering at him in disbelief. If looks could kill, Minho was sure he’d now have died more times than the characters in a Shakespearean tragedy. “—was that about the sunset, too?”

“Of course,” you snapped, your voice a tad too pitchy for your liking. Damn Lee Minho and his knack for memorizing things. “Haven’t you ever heard of extended metaphors? Rest assured, Lee Minho—I will never, ever, ever—have feelings for you.” You crumpled the sheet of poetry into a ball as you spoke with a note of finality, jamming it into your back pocket for good riddance.

Minho looked unfazed, the light curve of a knowing smile playing on his lips. After a moment, he took a step towards you, making you stumble back in alarm. “‘You can cut all the flowers,” he mused, glancing down at the crumpled love letter, “‘but you cannot stop spring from coming.’”

“Wh-wha—”

“Neruda quote. Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, and I’ll stop,” he murmured, eyes growing serious for a moment before his lips twitched with mirth, “but something tells me I deserve to hear more about that sunset from your poem.”

Gulping, you felt hot tears brimming in your eyes, and suddenly wished you were anywhere but here. This confrontation had been your worst nightmare, what you had always wanted to avoid. Your pride’ll be the end of you, y/n, you remembered Lia remarking when you’d sworn up and down that your feelings for Lee Minho were a thing of the past. And it was true—your pride had always gotten the better of you. You were a hypocrite, and a terrible one at that—always telling yourself you had gotten over that stupid, ninth-grade heartbreak, before unravelling into a nervous mess whenever Minho so much as threw a glance at you. And now, you could feel everything you’d feebly repressed for the last four years caving in. Crashing down on you like an avalanche of cheap supermarket chocolates.

“It was about you. You, alright?” You hissed, voice coming out more wounded, rather than venomous like you’d intended. “There. Are you happy now?” You were glad the shadows hid the humiliated tears beginning to roll down your cheeks, and wiped at your eyes furiously. Damn it all. So much for not crying.

“Then why didn’t you—”

“Say anything?” You breathed a short laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you just throw it out again, okay?”

The silence that met your words was deafening, and when you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze you saw that Minho’s look of disbelief mirrored your own.

“'Again?'”

Damn Lee Minho and his two-faced ass. Had he already forgotten? “In ninth grade. I left you a—stupid love letter in your locker, with all your other Valentines. Then I s-saw you throwing them all out, behind the school.”

“But I read every name on the cards,” Minho insisted, running a hand through his tousled hair. I left you—a stupid love letter in your locker. Your words sent his head spinning, and he felt his flustered cheeks heat up as he mumbled, “I’ve never—seen yours on any of them.”

Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. Minho’s brow furrowed in vague recollection. “But I did see Hana pulling an envelope out from my locker that day. She said that—she’d heard someone had been sending chain mail on Valentine’s Day, so she was helping the principal clean them up from people’s lockers.”

Hana? Your mind flashed to the missing locks, and the cheerleader that always seemed to be hanging around your locker, and suddenly everything dawned on you. “What did the envelope look like?”

“A corner store card. With—”

“Candy hearts. Right.” You muttered, watching Minho nod slowly. Your anger faltered slightly, feeling a slight shame wash over you, but you weren’t willing to give up just yet. “That still doesn’t explain why you dump out all the gifts you get every year.”

He sighed. “Look. Why would I keep love letters from people I don’t like? That’s just...narcissistic. And I don’t...like chocolate, either,” he added as an afterthought, and you couldn’t help exhaling a short laugh at his ridiculously blunt sentence. Another silence fell between the two of you, the angry tension in the air replaced with an almost childish awkwardness.

“I really did like the poem,” Minho spoke tentatively after what felt like an eternity, and you buried your head in your hands.

“Shut up, Lee Minho, oh my g—”

“And I wouldn’t have thrown it out.” The soft edge to his voice made you stop, peeking out of your fingers to look at him questioningly.

“Why not?” You asked, swallowing hard. “You said keeping letters from someone you don’t like would be narcissistic.”

He was barely a foot away, and the sheer proximity of his face from yours made your stomach flop—with irritation or butterflies, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. Nonetheless, a tiny voice at the back of your head told you that you were heading towards the latter.

“You know, for someone who reads so many books, you sure are dense,” Minho murmured, shaking his head.

“Wh—”

“I throw out all my Valentines every year because I never see your name on them, alright?” His expression was as careless as ever—that cool, calm facade he wore like a suit of armour—but you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Lee Minho, you realized with a jolt, was nervous. “I...only ever wanted to receive one from you.”

Your eyes widened, hands lowering from your face in shock. The book tumbled from under your arm to the ground. “But—Hana always told me about how much you hated me.”

“Hmm.” He dropped down to pick it up before fixing his piercing eyes on yours. “Funny. She’s been telling me the same about you. How you’re a two-faced, back-stabbing...such-and-such,” he smiled at the indignant look on your face before his face grew serious. “You’ve always let people walk all over you, and you never retaliate. It’s both admirable and frustrating to watch.”

“I’m not good at confrontation,” you mumbled, still shifting your weight from one leg to the other nervously. “Every time I think I’ve finally got the guts to try and say something back, I...I get all terrified that the words’ll jumble up and I-I’ll start to cry like an idiot again—”

“You’re not an idiot,” he interrupted sternly, “You’re probably more clever—and genuine—than everyone in our grade combined. Your thesis was brilliant.”

You snorted incredulously. “Then why did you keep attacking it every class?”

“It was the only time I could get you to talk to me.”

“Weirdo,” you muttered, but you couldn’t find it in you to make the word sound insulting anymore. Minho chuckled, hand grazing yours as he handed the book back to you. You didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he.

“It is weird. I must be out of my mind. Whenever you look at me, it’s like the whole world stops, and suddenly every cheesy line of poetry I’ve ever read just seems to make sense.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were more than certain Minho could hear it. The way he was looking at you was nearly overwhelming, stomach fluttering with a feeling so strange and foreign it terrified you. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that you would be here, in this delicate, unreal moment, and you felt all your insecurities threatening to swallow you up again. Out of everyone in the school, he likes you? A voice snickered at the back of your mind. Don’t kid yourself.

Shrinking away, you mumbled, “Y-you—don’t have to say stuff like that, you know. I mean, i-if you feel bad because of the letter and everything, you don’t have to pretend you lik—”

There was a flash of an exasperated smile on Minho’s lips. Before you could finish, his hand reached to pull your chin towards him again, and suddenly his mouth was pressed flush to yours. You froze, lips parting in surprise, but the kiss was light—barely even a brush of soft skin, and bringing with it the faint scent of vanilla and old books. Minho pulled away almost as quickly as he’d pulled you in, stammering, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

That seemed to send what was left of your hesitation crumbling into dust. You grabbed the collar of his dress shirt to pull him back in, and the library fell silent again.

Minho kissed the way he talked—soft but firm, and always leaving you struggling to catch your breath. Each touch had the growing intensity of something long overdue, starting out careful—as though you were treading over the newly shattered, four-year-old misunderstandings of one another—before your hands instinctively tangled in his hair and Minho pulled you in impossibly closer. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours, the crumpled poem and Neruda’s sonnets long forgotten on the carpeted ground.

The click of the library door opening sent the two of you flying apart, Minho hitting his head on the shelf with a comical thud. The kiss left you dazed and out of breath, and Minho’s face was flushed as both of you whipped around to see a livid Hana at the front of the library. Mouth opening and closing in silent fury, she shot you a death glare before storming out the door, leaving both you and Minho blinking after her.

Several moments passed, the whiplash of the unexpected interruption having sent both of your heads reeling. Then, the two of you broke into stunned laughter, slowly sliding down to the carpet as you doubled over in giggles.

When you finally stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, Minho’s gaze was fixed fondly on your face. You poked his cheek. “You’re blushing, asshole.”

He didn’t respond, eyes falling to your lips again, and you felt your own face flush. “W-what?”

Minho grinned. “And you have drool on your chin again.”

“Hey, Minho! Minho, you won’t believe this!”

That enthusiastic voice belonged to none other than Han Jisung—voice of Levanter High’s morning announcements, and notorious school gossip. He hurtled down the bustling hall towards you and Minho, hunching over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Shit, ‘sung—did you kill somebody?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head rapidly. “Did you see the school newspaper?”

Your mouth went dry, Hana’s lingering threats still ringing clear in your ears. Jisung continued excitedly, “Two people submitted anonymous love poems over the weekend—at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m supposed to cover it on the announcements in a bit!”

Two? You peered at Minho, who hadn’t looked at you, and glimpsed a knowing glint in his eyes. “W-who submitted them?”

“Well, Lee Hana was handing out copies of the first one to everyone first thing this morning. But when I showed her the other one, she refused to tell me who the first belonged to.” He pouted.

Minho looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Do you have a copy of the paper, ‘sung?”

The dark-haired boy grinned. “Yeah, ‘course! You guys can have mine. See ya!”

As Jisung disappeared into the crowd of students, you turned back to Minho. He had been in the middle of putting a new lock on your locker, and was now setting the combination on his own. “They’re matching,” he’d pointed out when you’d gone into town together to buy them, and you’d groaned.

“Gro-oss.” The old, PDA-hating you would have probably thrown them away on the spot, but now the sight made you smile like a dork. If you can’t beat em, join ‘em.

You looked down to read the papers Jisung had deposited into your hands. Sure enough, on the left column, you spotted a photocopy of your own love letter. But on the right, there was a completely new one—and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who the anonymous writer was.

“You know, Minho,” you deadpanned, “I don’t think either of us are cut out to be poets.”

“I stayed up all night writing that love letter, you know!” Minho exclaimed indignantly, and you just shook your head laughing. “But you’re right. I could feel Neruda turning in his grave.”

“You’re going to be the end of me, Lee Minho.”

His face broke into a mischievous grin at that, pinning you playfully to the lockers and stealing another kiss as you yelped in surprise.

“Can it be a happy ending?”

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negansbackdoorwhore · 3 years ago

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Kiss and Make Up

Summary: Negan and you have a fight, so you confide in a close friend but someone isn’t happy about that

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of alcohol, rough smut

It was four in the morning and still no signs of Negan coming home. You called and sent tons of text messages but no answer. You couldn’t sleep at all as you were worried and heard the door unlocking.

“Negan? Are you okay?”

He was all wobbly as he walked into the kitchen flipping on the light.

“Hey baby. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t sleeping actually.”

“Oh really? That’s nuts.”

He slurred his speech and kept giggling. His clothes were all wrinkled and had a stain on his shirt. You looked at him pull various things out of the fridge.

“What are you doing?”

“Why is there no cheese? I swore we had some.”

“Negan why-“

“Here hold this, I need a sandwich.”

He was practically tossing everything on the counter and it was about to make a huge mess.

“Here, I’ll make you a sandwich.”

“Really? Aww you’re so sweet.”

He hugged from behind and kissed your cheek as you tried to organize everything.

“I’m not being sweet. You’re just making a mess.”

“Oh no you’re angry.”

You moved away from his hold and watched him lean on the counter for balance.

“You’re damn right I’m angry. I was worried about you. I called so many times.”

“My phone died. And besides Simon invited me to drink it’s no big deal baby.”

“It so is a big deal! Negan I worry about you and not to mention you have work tomorrow.”

“Oh so I can’t go out and drink?”

“You can but, you at least have to let me know about these things in case something happens.”

“Fuck the sandwich, I’m going to bed.”

He stormed off and you heard him slam the bedroom door shut. You let out a frustrated sound and went to rest on the couch.

Negan had the worst hangover when he first woke up. He heard you moving around the bathroom and went to greet.

“Morning baby.”

You didn’t bother answering him and moved past him in as you tried to grab your purse.

“Seriously? I know I was an ass last night but-“

“I don’t care to hear it. I’m going out, so if you need me call me. Oh wait, your phone is dead.”

“C’mon Y/N, I’m sorry.”

You didn’t respond as you made your exit and Negan groaned as you left his apartment. His head was still pounding and made his way to get some clothes. He downed so much coffee and painkillers so he could beat this hangover, he wanted to try and find you.

“And that’s why I’m here pissed off.”

“I understand where you’re coming from but don’t you think you should hear the guy out?”

You sipped at your lemonade as one of your close guys sat and ate brunch with you.

“I just can’t help it. I worry so much about him.”

“Because you love him and he has to feel the same about you.”

You let your friend continue explaining the other side of what Negan might have been thinking. Slowly you started to understand and felt more at peace.

“Trust me. Hear him out and let him apologize, he could have tons of reasons.”

“You’re right. I’ll go back after we finish here.”

“Good. Because I honestly have never seen you so happy in a relationship before.”

You both continue enjoying the food and laughed a little. It was until you heard someone yell.

“Hey!”

You looked over your shoulder to see Negan making his way to the outdoor table.

“Negan?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

At the moment Negan’s attention was on your friend and not you as he yelled at him. You both flinched when his hands slammed on the table.

“Negan stop!”

“Fuck no, who is this guy? You find someone who’s boring as fuck?”

“I’m just a friend dude. Nothing else.”

You try to explain but his anger was clouding his judgement and he reached to flip a plate into your friend’s lap. Of course he stands up to see the mess and now everyone was staring.

“Negan! He’s just a friend, now you come on.”

You yanked at his arm and pulled him away from the scene. His breathing was heavy and held his hand trying to calm him down. It must’ve worked for time since he kept quiet on the walk back to his apartment.

“Negan you can’t just do that.”

He remained quiet as his hand squeezed yours on the elevator ride up to his floor. You opened the door and Negan finally spoke up upon entering.

“I do what I fucking want okay? Look I’m sorry for last night. I was drunk.”

“No shit.”

“I get it okay. But I was already fucking pissed about this morning and you leaving, now I go to find you sitting with some dickhead.”

“He’s just a friend. You really think I’d let anyone have me but you?”

Those words made Negan smirk and you knew exactly what he was thinking about.

“Really? So you saying you’re mine?”

He said a shit eating grin and stepped in front of you being close enough to touch you.

“I’ve been yours since we started dating.”

“Fuck yeah you have. You’re still my good girl.”

He reached to hold the side of your neck to pull you up to kiss him. You wanted to be mad but how could you resist him, he’s so damn hot. Your arms held on his neck as he picked up your thighs to wrap on his waist so he can lay you flat on the cold wooden dining table.

His body grinding against yours and you pulled at his shirt to toss it off. He laughed and stood to undo his belt and watched you throw off your own shirt. He licked his lips and helped you remove your shoes as they were kicked off somewhere on the floor. Negan felt impatient as be yanked away your jeans from your legs and dropped them on the floor. His hand teasing over your panties causing you to moan.

“Yeah baby, this right here is fucking mine. All of you is fucking mine.”

You whimpered as he shoved the material to the side so he touch your aching center. His mouth going to mark up your chest and neck. It hurt for only a moment as he left dark hickies and shifted you by your hips to have you bend over for him. He stood tall behind you and pulled your panties down to your knees. His hand going to give your ass a good smack.

“Oh baby, you know I love this view. Damn you are fucking fine, go on now spread open for me.”

He said while still kneading your ass in his hands and moaning at you opening your legs. You felt him pressing his tip against your entrance and groaning as his teased you by running his cock against your slit.

“Oh shit you’re so wet. It’s fucking hot baby.”

He leaned down to kiss the shell of your ear before taking a hold of your hips to thrust inside you. He bit your earlobe and moaned at how good you felt. His chest pressed on your back and you felt his chest hair tickle your shoulder blades. He kept close as his hips were moving to slap against your skin.

“Oh yeah, that’s it take my cock baby.”

Your arm reached to touch him but he leaned up to pin your wrists against the table and fucked you harder. You moaned loudly and could feel him going deeper inside you. His own noises were so hot it made your pussy throb on him. The new pressure made him bute his lip and moved to flip you onto your back. You shivered at the feeling of cold wood and before anything you sat up to bring into a sloppy kiss. He groaned into your mouth and pulled your legs to his shoulders. You hands held tightly on his shoulders and feeling him pull away to put his cock back into you. His nose buried in your neck as he bites on your skin to suppress his moans. His hand holding the small of your back while the other securing one of your legs in position. You felt breathless as he moved from your shoulder to stare down between your bodies with a smirk.

“Fuck me, look how good that pussy swallows me. You fucking love this don’t you?”

“Yes! Negan, yes!”

You let out a whimper when one his hands moved between the small space and brought his thumb to massage your clit. Your grip tightened as his breathing became shaky and his hips moved harder.

“Say you’re mine. Go on baby say it.”

“I’m yours.”

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours.”

“Oh yeah, one more time baby c’mon.”

“I’m yours. I belong to you. Oh!”

You both felt one another’s orgasms hit deep, Negan rested his forehead on your should and let out a heavy breath when he came inside you. You trembled his arms as he held you both up for a short moment. His cock softened inside you and he moved rest your legs on the table and pulled out.

He reached to wipe the few sweat droplets on his forehead and helped you stand. He smiled to himself as he saw your legs wobble.

“You good baby?”

“I’ll be fine. Just need to lie down.”

He kissed your lips and picked you up bridal style while nudging his nose against yours.

“You forgive me?”

Taglist:

@iluvneganandjamie

@hail-yourselves

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stanknotstark · 4 years ago

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Serinakakers As Proof

Serinakakers are actually called Norwegian butter cookies in english and I don’t think i’ve ever had one but they look good to me lol i didn’t feel like making a whole new otherworldly dessert sorry I’m lazy sometimes 😂

Summary: You’re dating Loki but keeping it a secret as per Loki’s request. The team starts to question if you’re lying about your ‘lover’ and Loki has to save you because Thor has really bad timing.

It all started two weeks into dating Loki. Loki was a little unsure what the team’s reaction to you two dating would be so he told you to keep it a secret for now. You respected his wishes but that didn’t stop you from flaunting about how you had the best ‘lover’ (Loki refused to be called boyfriend) in the world.

Two weeks in Valentines came up and Loki had a vase of beautiful flowers sent to you with a little card that said, “For the fairest of them all - your love” In reference to Snow White, which you had both watched very recently.

You had taken them around the whole tower, telling people it had come from your lover when they asked.

“At least give us his name, I promise to not, like, totally have a background check on him!” Tony says with a pout.

You laugh and shake your head. “No can do Tin Man. He doesn’t want you all to know who he is just yet.”

“See, that makes me a little skittish, if he doesn’t want us to know he has something to hide.”

“I agree with him and think he should remain nameless.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” Tony points out.

You shrug at Tony and do the motions for zipping your lips closed and throwing out the key.

Loki ends up picking a random day, a month later, to send you a big basket of chocolate, your favorite hard candies, and really small plushies of all the Avengers (It’s totally not his way of giving you sweets because you’re on your period). Your favorite plushy isn’t one of the Avengers, it’s a small plushy of Loki. Because you’re given the basket in front of everyone you make sure not to freak out over the Loki plushy but you keep stealing glances at the god who sits apart from everyone else, reading.

“He even got you Loki?” Steve asks bewildered.

“Like it or not, Loki is part of the group. Seems he has built a group of fans now.” You say, stealing a glance at Loki who smirks at his book. You know he’s pleased you’ve defended his honor.

“You do realize I’m right here, do you not?” Loki says, still not looking up from his book.

Steve at least has the decency to look ashamed and his cheeks flare up.

“There’s not a card with a name!” Tony says making everyone look at the basket again.

“Of course not, you dumbass.” You say, slapping the back of Tony’s head, Tony proceeds to throw his hands and slap away at your receding hand. Thor and Bruce chuckle with you at his childish antics.

“Can you at least give us a letter in his name?” Clint asks from your side.

You sigh and look to the ceiling in thought.

“K.”

“Kevin!” Clint immediately yells. “Wait, we don’t know a Kevin.”

“Who said you know who it is?” You ask as you gather your basket to put in your room.

Clint completely disregards what you said and yells, “Kate!”

Natasha hits Clint’s arm, “She’s straight, stupid.”

Tony then pipes in as you walk away rolling your eyes, “Kyle! Kaden! Kayden but with a y!”

“His name doesn’t start with a k guys!” You yell as the elevator closes, exasperated.

Next, a week and a half has passed when they start questioning your relationship. Thor figures it out but only because he grew up with the thing you’re gifted.

You had been the last one to enter the kitchen for dinner and right as you entered Thor came up to you with puppy dog eyes and was holding a tin of sweets. You take a long look at the delicacies, they’re some type of cookies, in a swirl pattern, and decorated with powdered sugar. Thor answers your questions right after you think that.

“They’re butter cookies, can I please have one, your boyfriend sent them.” Thor says making sure to enunciate the word boyfriend. Your eyes snap to Thor’s and the god smiles down at you. On one hand it looks innocent but you see past his facade.

He knows.

You clear your throat and grab the tin from him, making sure to pull one of the cookies out and give it to him.

“Since you’re nice, sure, big guy.” You say giving Thor a look that said ‘Say nothing’. Thor bounces from foot to foot, shoving his cookie in the face of the other Avengers.

“She likes me!” Thor roars then demolishes the cookie in a single bite.

You laugh, glance at Loki from under your lashes as you look at the cookies and pick one out to try.

When the cookie touches your tongue you can’t help closing your eyes and moaning. You chew and the cookie just melts in your mouth. You moan as your take another bite and you think you could practically orgasm this cookie is so damn good but remember the entire team is there.

When you finish the cookie you open you eyes and look at everyone. Tony is looking at you like he wants to eat you, Natasha is eating her food like she doesn’t fucking care, Steve is blushing so hard you think his head might explode. Clint is shocked, and Bruce is looking at you with a raised brow. The last person you look at is Loki who sits there staring at you with flushed cheeks and a glint in his eye that says he’s going to tear those noises from your lips again, this time without the cookies.

You cough and look at Thor who is smiling like he is satisfied. You understand why he wanted one so bad now.

“I’m sorry but what the fuck just happened.” Tony says shaking his head.

You laugh. “I had an orgasm while eating a cookie, get with the program.”

“Honestly, if his cookies are that good you need to marry the man, just saying.” Tony waves his had at you then goes on to start eating his dinner.

You go to eat another cookie but Loki finally says something.

“No dessert before dinner, put the cookies down.”

“Or what?” You challenge the god.

Loki raises a brow at you and levels you with a glare.

“Put them down.”

You suck on your gums and squint at the god as you put the cookies on the table.

“You’re lucky I like you.”

“Ok, first of all, you like everyone so I don’t see the point in saying that. Second, how have you told Loki you like him before me? We all know I’m the favorite around here.” Tony scoffs while aggressively stabbing a broccoli floret.

You take your seat next to Loki and that’s when it’s asked.

“Is your boyfriend even real? Or are you gifting yourself all these things so you’ll make one of us jealous?” Clint asks in a normal voice, he really doesn’t mean it to be mean.

You stop smiling at Tony and frown at Clint.

“He’s real.” You say a little hurt.

“I mean it just seems a little fishy.”

You pout at Clint.

“I could look into her purchases and see if she bought it herself.” Tony rouses from the other side of the table. He’t totally joking but Steve doesn’t take it that way.

“Tony! That’s private, you can’t just do that!” Steve tries protecting you.

You start to get a little angry.

“He’s real. If you don’t think he’s real then that’s on you. I know he is and that’s all that matters.” You reason, more for yourself than anything else.

Under the table you feel Loki’s hand squeeze at your thigh.

“Just give us something to let us know he’s real.” Tony pushes.

You slam your hands on the table and stand up so fast the chair you were in topples over.

“Stop!” Loki yells, in a quick move he stands and puts an arm in front of you, not to protect Tony but to stop you before you did something you regret.

The room is silent save for your rough breathing.

“It’s me.” Loki harshly says, glaring at Tony and Clint.

“You don’t have to cover for her, it’s embarrassing but-”

“Shut up!” You scream at Clint.

“I’m not trying to cover for her. I’ve been dating her for the past month and a half. I did not want her to tell you because I wasn’t sure how all of you would react.” Loki gets out then turns and brings you to him so he may kiss you.

Loki makes it a show for the team, relaxes as you lean into him, your hands wrapping around his neck and tugging at the nape of his neck. He pulls away before you can lose yourself in his kiss and looks at the team with a raised eyebrow as if asking ‘Is that enough for you?’.

Finally Thor peeps in between a big bite of his food. “Ay, Loki is telling the truth, those are Serinakakers, an Asgardian delicacy my mother used to make us.”

Loki rolls his eyes at his brother’s really bad timing and then looks back down at you, you’re still wrapped around him, now with a tiny smile on your lips as you look at him.

“Ok, darling?” Loki asks anyways.

“I’ll be happy if you let me take those cookies and eat those for dinner in my bedroom.”

Loki brings a hand up and trails a finger from the back of your jaw to your chin, going up to touch your bottom lip. “Only if you promise to make those sweet sounds every bite you take.” Loki whispers.

“Ok this is seriously gross, I’m literally gonna throw up.” Tony says with a fake gag.

You laugh and pull from Loki who glares at Tony. You point at Tony, then at Clint. “Don’t think you two are off the hook, I’m still royally pissed, you’re just lucky when I’m around Loki I can’t stay mad.”

You make your way around the table, Loki following, dinner forgotten, and pick up your cookies. Then, you head towards your room.

Halfway to the elevator Loki grabs your hand and doesn’t let go until you’re both laying on your bed enjoying your cookies. Talking about everything and nothing.

#loki x reader #loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #reader insert #my writing #i had this idea a few days ago and didn't have any time to really write it out #i feel i could have done more but my mind is working at like ADD mode right now #my adderall is wearing off cuz i took it early #so idk if ill get to write more or not #but hopefully i can ^^#also my transitions could use a little work i apologize about that i try not to make them so generic and like next #this happens #or like then he #and on this day #i just have trouble of thinking of good ways to transition sorry

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minshookie · 4 years ago

Text

CEO!BTS Reaction to:

You flinching during an argument.

| !warning! | violence, unhealthy relationships, abusive relationship, yandere Bts, choking and sexual topics 18+, dubcon, oral [fem receiving & giving], strong language [Jimin has a potty mouth!!!] rough play.

| this is not in anyway shape or form a true depiction or representation of BTS, this is a work of fiction and is not to be taken seriously. For entertainment purposes only.|(this is my work, please don’t repost or steal)

| Requested [requests open]

A/N | the amount of time I’m taking to get these request done correctly is embarrassing i apologize. I hope you don’t mind that I turned this into a whole reaction and that it’s not fluffy...lmk if you’d like me to change it I certainly will.

Forgive me for mistakes, though this is edited.

Kim Seokjin...

“Ok well what was that out there?” He spoke ominously back turned to you. “I- we-.” Laughing at your lack of response, he cut you off. “You fucked up that’s what it was hun.”

“Come sit on the desk, I want to see you apologize for making me look like an idiot.” He spat the last part like it was disgusting on his tongue. Already in deep trouble you decided to follow directions for once.

Turing smoothly in his office chair, you could see the resentment in his eyes. “Go on.” You swallowed thickly, his angered glare drying your throat. “I’m sorry for....correcting you during today’s meeting.” He scoffed, “there was nothing to correct!”

“Jin you can’t always be right, if you took that agreement, you’d never hit anything close to pro-” “who’s the boss? Hm? Who’s name is on this desk you have your tight ass planted on?” Mistakingly you let your eyes roll out of pure annoyance.

“Well excuse me?!” He leans forward quickly out of his chair, causing you to fall opposite of him. Pens poke at your back, his name plaque digging into your arm. Evilly he grins in enjoyment. “Found your place yet?, you seem afraid...afraid I’d hit you?” Wide eyed you nod, trapped like a mouse under its predator. Every inch of confidence stripped as he glared deeply into you. “Good.” Before you could even process his statement, you were harshly distracted by his rough hand landing across your cheek. Your head turns the other way as your right cheek tingles and burns. Chuckling he grips your chin forcing you to look at him.

“Find your place, and if you’ve forgotten it, I can help you find it...just like that,anytime.”

Min Yoongi...

Watching in envy, you pushed miscellaneous papers into the shredder. What a bitch! You saw her watching Yoongi all day just waiting for him to go to his office. So she could prance in there, thong up her ass, low cut shirt...the works.

“Yah! Y/N, what the hell are you doing?” Jumping in fear , peeking down you found out what you’ve been shredding. He shoved you to the side turning off the shredder. “All those papers we needed for next week’s evaluation and review meeting...” you looked from the shredder back to him shrugging nonchalantly. Already having Somebody in your boyfriends office flirting him into hard on, the last thing you need is more work. “We’ll go fucking print some more of them.” He demanded his face stiff. Jin never liked you, maybe you’ll have Yoongi fire him.

You walked holding the last remaining sheet fully intact for reference, did Jin really think you were going to the copy room? What a dunce. Ignoring the meeting in progress light you pushed the heavy door open. “Hey y/n I’m sorry we’re in the middle of something.” You could tell he was just laughing at something a tint of red on his cheeks. Him kicking you out...this should be the other way. This hurt. “Me?” You gasped. She turned her silky hair fanning. “Y/n when we’re done I’ll come find you Alright?” She spoke a little above a whisper.“Don’t speak to me.” You glared at her walking further into the office. Obviously she’s confused about her rightful place, and Yoongi is too.

“You, get out.” She stretched her eyes looking back and forth from you to Yoongi. “Now.” “Min you can’t let her kick me out.” She scoffed, “I’ll speak to you later alright.” He smiled warmly,She got up storming from his room. “Yoongi what exactly was that?” He sat back in his chair. “A meeting.” “A meeting with what her left tit?” He closed his eyes harshly at your vulgarity. “No a meeting with your colleague about her position.” He offers the seat in front of him, gladly you take said offer.

“But what you did was uncalled for.” Laughing he leaned forward onto the table. He beacons you to follow, leaning forward you fall right into his trap upset he gripped your face making your cheeks squish. “Don’t ever come back in my office acting this way again, understood?” Nodding the best you could. “Huh? Understood?” “Yeah!” He let go leaving a ache in his wake. Before going back he reached for you again instinctively you pull back as if he was going to strike you. “Hm, I don’t treat you that harsh but I will...keep testing me.” He finished, only coming close to fix your hair.

Kim Namjoon...

Another day held the same daily routine, wake up Joon, cook breakfast, clean get dressed and head to work, work, eat lunch in Joon’s office, work,go home, and restart.

Today Joon had lunch delivered, practically throwing his money like confetti paper, much to the delight of his employees. Both of you sat on the floor of his office, enjoying the home style take out in silence. Without noticing all your attention was being absorbed by your phone. “What’s so intriguing kitten?” Your fingers stopped in their place “just texting a friend.” You looked at him through your lashes before going back to typing. He closed his take out container, he finished his meal and sneakily proceeded onto yours. Surprised by your lack of protests he spoke again.

“Oh yeah? And whose this friend?” He mumbled still chewing. “Someone I might know?” You nodded in response, unsatisfied he got up going to wash his hands in his office restroom. “Their name would be helpful y/n.” Just from his tone alone you could tell he was nearing impatience. “He works here, I’m just helping him...explaining how the log in system works he’s locked out at the moment.”

Joon no longer cared for their name and you knew it. “Oh ‘he’?” You nodded, he came drying his hands with his initialed towels. “New guy...Choi?” You looked up fully for the first time in a while. “Yeah, Soobin.” He nodded,Sitting in his desk turning to some papers. Nothing left to say you looked back down at your massages. “I’d like you to eat though, I don’t want you going hungry.” He ordered you around like a father and you obeyed.

Chewing, you almost choked as Soobin sent a joke that you weren’t ready for. Joon raised a brow, “a funny one huh? Let me see.” He looked down at you hand out flat. Your eyes went doe, there is no way your letting Joon read this vulgar joke. Soobin would be out of a job just as quick as he got one. “C’mon let me see, don’t make me take it.” Maybe he’ll laugh about it too, you gave up the device.

At first he squinted before his eyes grew wide. “ ‘This copy machine looks like the one from those cheesy office pornos....let’s make one?’ Y/N this is who you’re waisting your time on?” Rolling your eyes you went back to your meal, annoyed he didn’t find the harmless joke amusing. “Joon he was joking, it’s not like he knows I’m dating someone.”

You felt wind brush past you and a crashing sound occurred from behind, startled you made eye contact. “I had half the mind to throw that piece of shit at your head.” His angered expression taking you aback, you must’ve forgotten Joon is the extremely jealous type. “Go get it, bring it back to me.” Slowly turning trying not to take your eye off of him, you retrieved the shattered phone. Harshly he took it from your hands. Tapping before turning it to you, “block him.” You flinched at his sudden hand movement. “Don’t flinch away from me, block the bastard, before I’m the one bending you over the copy machine.”

Jung Hoseok...

Slouching in the pool chair you observed as the other women splashed and paddled around like children. You don’t usually go to these types of things, and neither does Hoseok. But this time it was important, he was here solely to kiss butt with his new business partners.

He practically forced you to put on your swimsuit, fully planning on walking you around like a show dog for the evening. Crossing your legs you brought your straw to your lips. You’d planned on getting in the pool, but apparently you weren’t good enough for the other wives...or affairs in the pool at the moment.So to spare the embarrassment you decided to watch.

“Enjoying yourself?” Hoseok came behind you patting your head softly. “Hm I guess.” You placed your drink away. “Hobi I’m ready to go. home.” You pouted, his hand still on the chair he came to your side. “Home? We’ve just got here an hour ago.” Nodding at his true statement you turned to look at him. “Yeah...and now I’m ready to go home.” Rolling his eyes he squatted to your level. “C’mon baby, go make a friend in the pool, splash around yeah?”

“No, I’m tired.” He groaned putting his head on your shoulder. “Y/n, boo don’t be a brat, you wanna go inside, wanna find a bed for you?” “Hm will you stay with me?” He looked over his shoulder, “ah Bruce wants to talk cuts and coverage a bit more, I can show you to a ro-” “nooo hobi!”

Panicking he pinched you to lower your volume. The party in the pool ceased and all eyes were on you. You’d learned how to cheat the system,It usually didn’t take much pouting from you to get your way. “c’mon get up.” He pulled me roughly by my forearm almost making you trip over your feet. He pulled you into the spacious home, up the stairs and into a hall. “Here let’s go in this room hobi.” You could tell by the look on his face hobi didn’t come to rest.

“Do you get off on making me look like an idiot?” He spoke close to your face. “Hey, I told you i wanted-” he covered your mouth with his large hand. “I don’t give a fuck what you want, now shut up and get in that fucking room.” Meekly you followed his order. “I’m sorry hobi.” “Ah I said shut up!” You stood in the middle of the decretive room, “down.” Down on your knees before him he looked down disgusted.

“Now make my cock hard so I can teach you how to use your loud ass mouth correctly.” Hesitantly you leaned forward, he groaned loudly reaching for you making you backwards in response. “Quickly, and don’t you dare run away.” He grabbed your hair, now under his full control.

Kim Taehyung...

“Mm how does it feel being my right hand lady?”

“Well seems like I’m on top of you right now.”

“I love how smart you are baby.”

Taehyung had recently promoted you to his secretary, now you can’t help but be in his office all day. Dreamily he looked up into your eyes as you straddled him. “Round 2 huh?” He huffed making you giggle, “let’s not indulge Taetae.” You nipped at the shell of his ear, he gripped your ass tightly. “What else do you have to do, I distributed your work along all the employees you’re here to have fun!”

“Well the phone has been ringing like crazy let me answer at least one call!” You climbed off, your skirt still scrunched around your waist your panties to the side. “Ahhh the baby wants to feel like a big woman go on answer.” Smiling with accomplishment, you picked up the phone. “Hello this is y/n y/l/n, answering for Kim Taehyung.” It was actually another secretary on the line you took notes as he spoke. You felt so responsible you knew Taehyung would be proud, you looked over to see his approval only to find him not there.

Confused you held conversation, until you felt something warm glide along your thigh making you Yelp. “Ah I’m sorry, Mr Lee, repeat that?” In fear you looked under your desk, mischievously Taehyung winked at you. You went back to the conversation, as he lapped your heat. You were already so sensitive you wouldn’t last a minute more of this. “Stop it please Tae.” You hissed pressing the phone to your chest. He did the opposite, penetrating you with his longest digit. Curling his finger and assaulting your clit, if the lewd sound of slurping could be heard by you you knew it could be heard over the phone. Quickly you hung up, very upset you squeezed his head between your thighs.

“Cumming baby?” “No, quitting.” He pulled back confused “what?” You fixed you panties, pulling your skirt back over yourself. “I asked you to let me do one thing, and still you couldn’t keep off of me.” He crawled from under your desk. “Who was on the phone?” He asked dryly, you looked over your notes. “Mr Lee.” “Oh, he calls everyday for his boss they have nothing to offer so we have nothing to give.” You nodded making a note to avoid his calls. “Anything else?” He shook his head going back to his desk with a deep sigh.

Oh good grief, you huffed falling back into your chair, you’ve gotten upset with him and now he’s going to mope around. “TaeTae, please understand I do actually want to work, we’ve talked about this.” You spun your chair to look at him, he looked at you inquisitively. “Maybe you should go back downstairs, I don’t want to distract you.” You could feel your eyes stretching. “Tae! No it’s not that serious.” “No no, your cubicle is still empty, the largest one.” You crossed your arms. “You’ll get the raise you just won’t be here honey...maybe I’ll offer the position to Sana.” He turned from you to go in his computer. “No, I’m not going.” “Bye Y/n see you tonight.” He mumbled nonchalantly.

“No Taehyung.” He gave a grim chuckle. “Stop being hard headed, go fetch Sana for me will you....love you.” “No kim Taehyung, this is MY job!” The phone rung and you picked it up, “hello this is-” He came pulling the phone from you slamming it to hang it up you flinched harshly. “Y/L/N, I won’t ask you agin, get out or do what I promoted you here to do.” He looked into your eyes devilishly. You complied removing your skirt, playtime was over, you sadly knew your place. “Perfect girl.”

Park Jimin...

“I’ll beat your ass come here. Now.” You stood in his office doorway, fear quaking over you. “Y/n...now.” he leaned on his desk looking you up and down. You walked in to what seemed to be your demise. “The door, close it, lock it.” “Mr Park please.” He got up walking behind you and slamming the door before walking in front of you again. “Where the fuck! Were you.” You looked at him, head fogged unsure of an answer. “I-I Mr Park...I’ve been here at work since 3 AM actually...before you got here.” He laughed lightly.

“I didn’t want your schedule, I know your damn schedule, the meeting today’s meeting.” You toyed with your fingers, “OH...oh Mr Park I forgot you needed me I’m sorry h-how did it go?” “We fucking lost the deal, the information you dug up is what we needed and you were somewhere in LaLa land.” He dug his hands into his hair. “C‘mere.” He sat on the leather couch that decorated his office. “Please Mr Park, I’ll stay late and I’ll beg for another meeting date.” He shook his head “no, c’mere.” You stood still pleading with your eyes. “I’ll drag you by your cheap blow out, bring your ass here.” You shuffled to him, he pulled your dress bending you over his knee.

He pulled your dress up, “Mr Park what will your wife say?” You began to tear up, why would he choose you to give his violent love to. “Ha, she’ll say “fuck me harder” later tonight why?” You shook your head refusing to respond. “Look into the mirror.” You obliged. He pulled his hand up just stoping before it hit you causing you to shudder a jerk violently. “ Do you fear me y/n?” You nodded almost sobbing. “I’ve trained you well...head up...be a big girl.”

Jeon Jungkook...

The whole building was draped in a gloomy mood as Jungkook stalked about looking for something to nitpick. Earlier today you and Jungkook had a falling out on the way to work about how close you were getting with one of your male coworkers. And said coworker that just happened to be your cubicle neighbor. He rounded your area multiple times, chastising said coworker, sending him on errands and putting him down again and again.

Seeing how it was affecting the newbie, you finally turned to Jungkook. “Mr Jeon, can I speak to you.” “No.” He turned quickly before going back to chastise the frightened employee. “Slip up again, and I’ll make sure you’re looking at a deep fryer for the rest of your life Kang.” He whispered just loud enough for you to catch it.

“Mr Jeon please, for a minute.” He clears his throat leaving your area. Your face grew hotter by the minute, you got up going to talk to your distraught friend. “Hey, listen he’s all bark and no bite what do you need help with?” You smiled warmly remembering how it felt to be new in a place like this.

“Well every time I answer the phone and start the question pro-” a heavy hand lands on his and your shoulder “who said this was a social hour y/l/n” a sigh came from deep inside of you. “ Damn it Kookie-” “who? Excuse me?” His eyes widening. “Jungkook- Jeon- I’m sorry...I’m sorry Mr Jeon.” He eyed the two of you “hm...kang get to work, y/l/n you too.” He began to walk away. “Y/n I’ll send you an email, I really need help on this.”

“Email her I dare you.” You spun in your chair “Mr jeon please! He’ll never get better if I don’t.” He rolled his eyes taking off his glasses, “what was he trained for if he can’t use the damn computer?” Everyone in the office was watching the dispute. “Pft I was trained on any of this! I had you holding my hand the whole way why can’t he?” He started waking the other way, his face glowing crimson. “Get in my office, now y/n.” You sat turning to your work. “No Jeon. I won’t.” “Y/n you can come to my office, or clock out and go home for the rest of the damn month.” All eyes on you like this was some cheesy tv drama, you got up following him.

Once in the safety of his four walls you stood hands on your hips “why kookie, why you being a Jackass?” He turned to face you, anger evident. Swiftly he pulled you by your shirt “talk to me like that outside of this office space the way you did today one more time, and you’ll be begging me to fire you. Yeah?” You nodded earning a open palm slap to your cheek, “yeah? Open your slutty mouth like you did for Kang, am I understood?” “Yeah kookie.” Another slap, your cheek began to burn. “Yes Mr Jeon.” He lifted his hand making you flinch in his grip. “Lovely girl, now get out there, and leave Kang alone or else.”

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jj-5656 · 4 years ago

Text

Insufferable

With; Newt

A/N: This is an addiction at this point. I seriously cry every other day abt this man. I just want to say thanks to anyone who likes or comments on my work. And those who reblog AND comment? You inspire me to keep writing so big thanks to you. Special s/o to @jenny33996 for yet another prompt idea. Enjoy!

You hum softly as you work, fingertips intricately pressing down on the soil of your newly-planted tomatoes. The sun beats down on you and the other track-hoes without mercy, and it’s taken some time to get accustomed to the humidity of the glade. Despite the muggy weather, you’re completely focused on the task at hand. Making sure to remain gentle with each plant you come across.

“Love, you know the plants can’t actually hear you?” You roll your eyes at Newts remark, shaking your head knowingly as you observe his rough workings against the greenery surrounding you.

“They can actually. Studies have shown the emissions of carbon dioxide and the vibrations from talking or singing can promote efficient growth in plants.”

“Is all your free time spent researching then?”

“Precisely, and it’s the only reason the rest of you shanks don’t get a scolding from Alby. I practically carry the track-hoes!” You argue dramatically, laughing when Zart nods in agreement.

“Good that.” Zart comments idly, not noticing Newts offended expression as he lets down his rake.

“Since you two shanks like to talk so much, maybe you won’t mind working an extra ten minutes on turning the soil?” It comes out as more of an order than a question, and the two of you give a silent nod and the keeper walks off with the rest of the track-hoes.

“You’re bloody humming’s got us an extra ten on the garden, shank.” Newt chucks a cherry tomato at you as he speaks, chuckling when you toss it back to him.

“It was actually your bloody jokes, that aren’t funny might I add.” You mock his accent dramatically, smirking when his eyebrows raise in bewilderment.

“Your accent is insufferable.”

“So is yours.” The two of you laugh harder at your lighthearted bickering, getting up from your kneeling positions to pick up the discarded tools in order to tend to the soil. As Newt takes a step towards you, he trips over a stray vine. Each of you letting out a Yelp in surprise when he practically tackles you to the ground. He’s smart enough to roll over to break your fall, but you still feel a sharp pain on the side of your head when it comes in contact with one of the shovels.

“Shuck, are you that clumsy slinthead?” You mutter in annoyance as you rub your temple.

“Sorry.” Newt can only get one word out before the two of you start giggling again, only ceasing when you realize his hands are still secured around your waist. Not to mention you’re practically sprawled out on top of him, and can even smell the combined scent of mint and some type of wood coming off of him. Suddenly, the eye contact and the heavy breathing aren’t as funny as they were before.

She’s close, really close. Close enough for Newt to feel her heart beating rapidly against his chest, and her breath mingling with his. He could move his head just a few inches more, and actually kiss her. But he can’t, right? Not when she’s practically his best friend, and the one of the only people he can truly trust. She’s means too much to him for him to jeopardize their relationship. But she’s just so....impossibly close. Maybe if he just-

“Earth to Newt? My head, i-it really hurts.” She mutters softly, cringing in pain when she rises to get off of him. It’s only when he lifts her completely off of him that he realizes how sickly she suddenly looks. Sweat beading on her skin as she takes heavier breaths and-oh shuck

“What? What is it?” You question worriedly, realizing the sensation of hot water running down the side of your head. You go to rub it off, only to see your palm covered in thick red blood.

“Y-you’re bleeding.” Newt responds dumbly, eyes wide with concern and shock as he discards his shirt from his torso.

“No shuck.” Even with how lightheaded you are, you manage to make a snarky remark at the blonde in front of you. Wincing when he presses the bunched up fabric to your head. If your brain didn’t feel as if it were being stapled to your skull, you think you might’ve taken the opportunity to admire his muscled arms.

“You need to go to the med-jack, right now. Can you stand?” His demeanor is calm now, but you can tell laced within his tone is deep worry.

“Yeah, I think so.” You nod softly, cringing at the dizziness the action creates. Newt grabs at your arms to hoist you up, and you stumble with a groan at the sudden movements.

“Shuck, sorry.” Is all you hear before the ringing begins. And you know it can only get worse from there when little black dots begin to cloud your vision. Your legs feels as if they have no bone supporting the tissue, and it takes all your focus to attempt to stand. There’s shouting in the distance, or maybe from right beside you. It’s hard to tell with all this damn ringing...Did the world always feel this spinny? The last you see is the brilliant, shining sun before everything goes black.

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

When you come to, the ringing has finally stopped. It takes you a moment to recognize your surroundings, especially since the lighting is so dim in the room. There’s shouting, but you can’t seem to decipher the voices just yet. Still, you silently pray for the arguing to stop so the raging headache will cease.

“How could you let this happen? How careless could you possibly be Newt?”

“That’s enough Minho, it was an accident. He feels bad enough.”

“Yeah, and you know we can’t afford accidents Alby. Because you know what happens? People die!”

“I said that’s enough. I know damn well what goes on around here. Now slim it.” The voice is stern, but remains tranquil as anger laces each word. Alby

“Jesus shuck, stop talking.” You croak weakly, voice unbearably hoarse from however long you’ve been out. You try to swallow some saliva, and hum weakly when a cup of water meets your lips.

“If you guys are going to argue, I suggest you do it elsewhere. It’s bad enough she’s lost consciousness after a head injury. Right now, she needs as little stimulation as possible.” Clint informs strictly as he readjusts the bandage on your forehead. “If you’re going to stay in here, you all need to slim it.” You follow Clint with your eyes as he walks towards the supply stable, noticing Alby and Minho stood glaring at each other in the doorway. Newt sits in a chair beside Alby, hand rubbing over his mouth in thought as he studies you intently. Only averting his eyes when you meet his gaze.

“Do you know your name?” Clint speaks gently beside you, finger moving in front of your eyes in a silent order for them to follow it.

“Y/n.”

“What about where you are?”

“The med hut, in the glade.”

“Good, and who’s that over there?”

“Minho and Alby. The blonde shank is Newt.” You joke half halfheartedly, wanting more than anything than to see the boy smile. He doesn’t make a move or attempt to speak, just meets your eyes with an unreadable expression.

“Very good. Y’know how you got in here?” You nod, but Clint raises his brows to have you elaborate. “We were working in the garden, and I fell.” You look over when Minho lets out a huff before shaking his head.

“It seems to me like she fainted from the loss of blood. It could have been shock or anxiety, because I’m not noticing signs of significant head trauma. No memory loss, nausea, or lack of reflexes as of yet. Just to be sure though, I want her here for the next week so I can monitor her. I don’t want to take a head injury lightly.” Clint informs without looking up from his reflex-test on you. The boys look to each other briefly and nod in understanding.

“I need to cool off, you’ll be okay?” Minho asks abruptly, voice much quieter this time. He rubs his thumb gently over the bandage as you offer him a weak smile.

“Minho, I’ll be fine.” He gives a curt nod before attempting to back away to leave, but you grab his wrist and pull him to you once more. “Please don’t be so hard on him. He didn’t mean it.” Minho considers your words for a moment, before looking between you and Newt. He gives another nod before parting your hand and leaving the room, still a bit frustrated. As much as he hates to admit it, or to let the other boys see, he really cares about you. You smile to yourself at the thought, strong and sassy Minho worried sick over someone. It’s heartwarming, but Newt’s pale, solemn expression brings your focus back to the glum energy of the room.

“Hear that? Sounds like you’ll be alright, shank. I’ll let you get some rest for now. And you’re not moving from this bed for a week, you hear? Clint gives the orders in here.” Alby affirms sternly, deep brown eyes the dead giveaway he’s a lot more scared than angry. He squeezes your shoulder gently before making his way out of the med hut. Leaving you and Newt alone when Clint rambles on about needing to grab herbs from Frypan for tea.

“Newt.” Your voice is so soft, you’re not even sure the boy has heard you. “Please, come over here.”

“I-I have to go talk to Minho.” He fumbles lamely, obviously trying to come up with an excuse. It’s all his fault.

The overwhelming guilt and shame has been eating at him for the past hour, wondering whether or not he had just seriously injured the girl he’s head over heels for by tripping over a shucking vine. He let his guard down, something he really only tends to do around you. It’s too dangerous, to love you. Shuck, he loves you. He can only admit it to himself right then, and the the thought that your injury was with him to blame makes his stomach churn. He was so stupid, so careless to think he could even try to be carefree for one second in this shucking hell of a plac-”

“Newt? Hey, don’t spiral on me please.” Your voice is more sad now, pleading with him to come to you. Reluctantly, the blonde walks over to sit on the side of the bed. You grab his hand before he can refuse, and give him that beautiful smile as his thumb absentmindedly moves over your knuckles. “Look at me, you heard Clint. I’m gonna be just fine. It was an accident-”

“That could have gotten you bloody killed.” He interrupts almost instantly, running a hand over his face to contain his composure in order to not raise his voice. “You understand passing out meant you could have not woken up, yeah?” He inquires, looking to you with narrowed eyes as your own drift up to look at the ceiling rather than him.

“But I didn’t.”

“But you bloody could have, and it would have been my fault.” His voice cracks at the end of his sentence, and your eyes dart over to meet his, not letting the moisture filling in the corner of them go unnoticed.

“Newt-”

“No. We have lost too many people to start getting stupid now. I-I can’t keep...I can’t keep doing whatever this is with you in good conscious, not after today.”

Your face contorts in confusion at his words, and if you weren’t so weak you’d hit him for being so vague.

“Wh-what? So, you’re just not gonna talk to me anymore because of a shucking mishap?”

“I can’t lose you!” He counters immediately. He doesn’t yell, but his tone is desperate when he tugs his hand from your own. Not understanding he’s doing more damage now than that stupid shovel ever could. “I can’t be sick with worry like that, n-not again. I couldn’t breath when I saw that blood on your face. And I could barely explain what happened to the others. I can’t-I wasn’t able to stay calm when I saw you like that. I wasn’t myself. So, I don’t know if it’s a good idea if we-”

“Slim it. You’re giving me more of a headache than I had before. You’re telling me you want to ignore me forever? Let...Whatever this is-whatever we are, just let it go because you’re scared? I’m scared all the shucking time Newt.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Only because you’re making this so complicated.” You’ve always been stubborn, but Newts still bewildered by your insistence despite your weakened state.

“I’m scared all the time!” He mutters sternly, staring into your eyes as if it’ll somehow translate to you. “I mean, every day I’m scared. But I let my guard down, and you got hurt. I love you too much to hold onto you, can’t you get that through your bloody skull?”

Your eyebrows raise at his words, wondering if he’s actually just admitted it as he rolls his eyes.

“There, you know now. I’m head over shucking heels or whatever. Doesn't bloody matter, we can’t keep doing this.”

“Oh, so just because you’re afraid we don’t get to be together? Believe it or not, this is a two way street. And it’s gonna take a lot more than a shucking shovel for me to stop loving you Newt. And to hate you? Well, that’s impossible.” You lock gazes as you speak, challenging him to look away or continue the argument before he sighs. There’s a long pause before he looks at his feet, shaking his head before replying.

“I’m sorry about what happened. But you need to get better before we can talk about this, alright?” He cups your check and runs his thumb over your jaw as you slightly nod, lips pulling up into a smile when he places a soft kiss to your temple before backing away.

“Will you come read to me later on? We don’t have to talk about...This. I just, I don’t want to be alone all day.” You trail off when you finish, expression brightening when he nods happily.

“Alright, any requests?”

“Maybe you should leave a request in the box for Botany For Dummies. Considering it was my squash vine your shank ass tripped over.”

“Again, you’re insufferable.”

“Don’t get all jacked because my singing actually works.”

“Tell that to my bleeding eardrums.”

“Tell that to the gash on my head!” Newt shoots you a stern look at your teasing, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway.

“Too soon?”

“Slim it already, will you? I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m counting on it.”

175 notes · View notes

milfgritty · 4 years ago

Text

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 ~

191 notes · View notes

djarrex · 4 years ago

Text

Countermeasures || 3

Anomaly

Fives x ofc!reader

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| main masterlist | series masterlist | read on ao3 |

Rating: 18+ only

Word Count: 5.7k

chapter summary: Agreeing to help Fives proves to be both good and bad.

warnings: canon character death, a sprinkle of fluff (Fives can be soft but we all know he’s quite the opposite in the right contexts 😉), a dash of sexual tension, a dollop of groping, tons of inappropriate thoughts - lordy lord get some cold water splashed on them

note: I broke away from including Fives’ POV in this chapter. It may come back in the future, idk yet. This is the first real series I’ve written and I’m extremely grateful for the pals I’ve met on here who reblog and like my work <3 Tbh I’m having a ton of fun writing this because not only does it give me an excuse to watch the conspiracy arc a bunch of times for the details but I also get to write about Renna and Fives and I love them both and I just want them to fuck already.

***

This was crazy. How did you of all people end up in a situation such as this.

By “this”, you were referring to the strong embrace you were trapped in - the ARC trooper you’re shamefully crushing on being the captor.

No, you definitely were not complaining.

After agreeing to help him, Fives you pulled into his body, his strong arms finding their way around your back holding you steady. Large palms nearly covered the expanse of your back, the heat from his skin burning holes right through your outer layers and into your flesh. Your face was practically smushed into his broad chest, your arms dangling awkwardly at your sides. The weight of Fives’ chin was pressing into your scalp. So many thoughts were swimming in your head as Fives held you as tight as he could without hurting you.

He was... hugging you. To be completely honest, you thought the two of you would fuck - or at least do something along those lines - before he hugged you. It was the energy he possessed that led you to that conclusion, but you were proven wrong.

You didn’t fight it - you knew how much it meant to him. These clones - these soldiers - were covered in plastoid from head to toe all day every day throughout their unfortunately short lives, and you figured they must be at least somewhat touch-starved. The way Fives held you was different than you thought he was capable of. You weren’t naïve; you knew the clones took off their armor at certain points, and hey, you knew that they even would have sex in their short spurts of time off. You read reports on clones who had contracted STD’s from their adventurous endeavors and were sent here to be treated. Even though they were created in a lab for the sole purpose of fighting in this ridiculous war, they were still men.

You wanted to keep up some at least some semblance of professionalism - to not touch Fives back, because quite honestly your body wanted more - but your heart started aching, and your body acted against your brain as your arms returned the embrace.

Fives was thick. The clones as a whole aren’t huge men; they aren’t fed nearly enough - that much you knew - and are relatively slim with a very low percentage of body fat compared to all the muscle they were designed to have. They’re not that much taller than you, either. However, you’ve never held a clone before. Fives’ back was like a bag of ropes; hard, thick, and you felt every single muscle so beautifully poking out of his skin even through the tunic. You allowed your hands to splay out over his back - to really feel him. You were completely lost in this moment, but you heard it - barely noticeable, but you heard it - Fives inhaled quietly through his nose, taking in your hair’s scent. You knew deep down that he didn’t mean for you to notice him smelling your hair, so you didn’t mention it. Butterflies flapped around in your stomach - then the butterflies quickly floated away and that feeling was exchanged with pure lust; the fire in your belly burning hot with desire.

You don’t know how long you held each other, but you needed to break away from him and get back to the matters at hand. You agreed to help him, and that’s what you’ll do. Maybe he’ll be so thankful for your help he’ll “hug” you again later.

“You do you have a plan, right, mister ARC trooper?” Breaking away from his embrace, you tried to shake your mind clear of any thoughts that didn’t include Tup.

“Of course I have a plan!” Fives’ tone suggested he was attempting to play off what had just happened, and it was cute. He walked over to the darkened window and kept his back turned to you. Perhaps he was trying to clear his thoughts as well. You wouldn’t know, but Fives was barely breathing in through his nose so that your scent lingered in his nostrils for as long as possible.

“Care to share?” You called to him, and Fives paused for a few moments before responding.

“Are you able to access all the equipment without the supervision of the long-necks?” He finally turned around, his brows raised. You blinked at him, just a little dumbfounded and slightly offended.

“Yes, Fives. Maker, I know how to work the kriffing equipment. I don’t need a babysitter.” You rolled your eyes then squinted them at him, crossing your arms to your chest with a huff.

“That’s not what I meant,” Fives chuckled as he approached you once again and placed a hand on your shoulder. “I meant, are you going to get in trouble if you’re working alone in there?” His gaze bore into you, making you feel slightly uneasy. Yeah, you knew how to work everything, of course. But this was all new territory for you; working - unauthorized – on a patient who wasn’t yours, performing an atomic brain scan unsupervised, breaking protocol…

“I- I’m not actually sure. I’ve never been explicitly told to not touch anything without them being there? I think it will be okay. It’s just that- that Dr. Nala Se said no to the scan. I don’t think she’ll like that I went behind her back and did it anyway. Although… I want to try everything in my power to save your friend.”

“Right. Then let’s get to it.”

“I’m sorry - let’s? You’re coming too? That doesn’t seem like a good-”

“It’ll be fine,” Fives quickly interjected. His confident tone faded with the next part: “Please. I want to be there - be there for Tup.” There they were again, those puppy dog eyes that get you every time. You doubt Fives even knows he’s doing it, but he had to catch on by now because you basically have never said no to him in the few short days you’ve known him. Your attraction to him made you break over and over again; this time was no different.

“Okay, fine. But you need to stay hidden.”

“I’m ‘Mr. ARC Trooper’, remember? I’ve been trained in the arts of being sneaky.” Wiggling his fingers and brows at you with a cheeky grin, you laughed and punched him in the shoulder. His grin only grew.

“Yeah whatever. Just follow me.”

You were the first to exit Fives’ room, peeking your head just outside the door to get a feel of the surrounding area. No guards in sight at the moment, so now was the perfect time to go.

“Quickly,” you stepped outside the room, motioning with your hand for Fives to follow. It didn’t take long to get next door, of course.

You pressed the controls on the panel and the door whisked opened; you shooed Fives in first. As soon as he entered, two guards came around the corner. You obviously didn’t want to look like you were doing something you weren’t supposed to, so you put on your best smile and nodded to the oncoming troopers. They nodded back and turned at the next corridor that led away from Tup’s room.

You stood there for a moment, just outside the room - thinking. You were obviously crazy, no doubt about that. You were breaking protocol, and basically risking your internship and everything you had worked for up to this point for Fives (and Tup). It was the right thing to do, right? Your insane crush on the ARC trooper aside, you were going through with all of this because it was the right thing to do. It definitely wasn’t right that the Kaminoans wanted to kill Tup off without entertaining more options and trying other procedures. It all seemed very… weird. As doctors, wouldn’t they want to try every possible way to find a solution without skipping over it all and just killing him? Although, why waste more time and resources when the “obvious” solution was to terminate him and find the answers through an autopsy? Maybe you should give it more time – Shaak Ti could be back soon with the Jedi Council’s backing. Maybe it wasn’t too late to back out – to turn around and coax Fives back into his room before you were both caught.

The moment was over when Fives’ hand reached out to grab your wrist, unceremoniously pulling you into the room. You nearly tripped as he yanked you inside, a murmured “hey!” subconsciously rolled off your tongue at the rough pull.

“Sorry, Renna.” He shut the door behind you, giving you an apologetic smile. “Did- did I hurt you? Sometimes I forget my own strength... I’m not used to manhandling pretty and delicate things.” Okay, let’s push that comment aside and table it for later on when you’re alone in your quarters.

Fives reached out to examine your wrist but you flapped your hands at him, “Really, I’m okay. Seriously.” You weren’t lying - it didn’t hurt. If you told him the absolute truth, you would tell him how you wished he’d manhandle you in other ways.

“Alright. Let’s get to work.”

Knowing how quickly you had to work for this entire plan to play out smoothly, you immediately made your way over to the controls and started tapping away. You turned your head to check on Fives – to see how he was planning on participating – and he was just frozen in place standing over Tup’s cot. Tup was still unconscious; his chest rising and falling rapidly in his comatose, shut eyelids flickering back and forth.

“Fives, push him over there.” You pointed at the scanner on the other side of the room with your back still turned as you tapped away at the screens, prepping the equipment. With one last tap of the screen, the scanner descended from the ceiling and Fives pushed Tup’s cot into it.

Tup’s chest rose and fell at an alarming rate, compelling you to consider - again - about turning back and aborting this plan altogether.

Fives came around the other side of the scanner where you watched the infrared picture of Tup’s brain from display screen, snapping you out of the thought.

“The scan’s almost complete.”

Fives moved in front of you and leaned closer to the screen, you shuffled to the side to give him to space. Your eyes unglued from the screen for just a moment to watch Fives; he was desperate. The look in his eyes told you that much, and his stance wasn’t as strong and sure as it always seemed to default to.

Your focus made way back to the screen. “Everything… appears to be normal.” Just as you said that the screen starting beeping; a red dot was blinking, pinpointing an anomaly in Tup’s brain.

“W- wait a second.” You softly pushed Fives out of the way and read the results displayed on the screen.

“What? What is it, Ren?” Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his little nickname for you, but there were more important things currently at hand. You can freak out about the way he says your name like that later.

“It looks like Tup has developed a tumor.” Your fingers started tapping away yet again. You’ve never seen a tumor in clones before. To be fair, you had never worked with clones like this before, but you’ve seen more than enough of their files to know that a tumor wasn’t exactly something that could just appear in a clone.

“A tumor? Is that even possible?”

“I’ve never seen anything like this in clones. Not in any of the files.” You ceased tapping, turning around to face Fives. His hand raked through his hair, a pure look of confusion and worry on his face.

“Then… what is it?”

“I honestly don’t know. I’ll need to do a biopsy to be sure.” With a nod, you offered a reassuring smile. “It’ll be okay, Fives. We’ll get this straightened out, and you and Tup will be off this stormy planet and back to your brothers in no time.” You weren’t sure you even believed your words.

“You’re gonna take it out of him?” Before you could answer, Fives whacked the tools all over the ground with one graceless hand movement. Your eyes widened as he bent down to grab at the mess. “Do you, uh, think anyone heard that?”

You raised your brow at him, and with a sarcastic tone, “The probability is high, yes.” You sighed. “You need to hide.”

Smacking his hands away as he continued to pick up the mess, you hissed, “Fives, hide.”

“I think it came from this room.” You both shot up; you ran over and pushed Tup out of the tube and started to power it down at the controls as Fives took cover under Tup’s floating cot. Interesting that an ARC Trooper chose that as a hiding place.

The door whisked opened. Nala Se stood at the entrance, looking around. Her bug-eyes landed right on you, then glanced over to Tup.

“Hello, Doctor.” Your tone was astonishingly calm despite the absolute terror currently running through your system.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She entered through the threshold and made her way over to Tup, assessing his condition with a scowl.

“I was only trying to save the patient,” You informed her, keeping your tone calm and professional. You were ignored, however. Apparently, Fives was not so great at cleaning up his messes, because one leftover syringe sat on the ground right below the Kaminoan’s heels. She reached down to grab it, and your heart started racing. You blurted out, “Doctor, I found something unusual in the scan. It appears to be a tumor… I think you should take a look-”

“You performed a second scan without my authorization?” Nala Se stood upright; the forgotten syringe grasped in her three slender fingers. How did she not see Fives down there? Uh oh… where did he go?

Your heart rate slowed. “Apologies, Doctor. I was only trying to-”

“Perhaps I made the mistake in assuming you’d be ready to work with the clones.” Nala Se turned around to shut off the remaining equipment; machines began powering off as they whirled back in place and Tup’s cot moved back to where it was before you started. One of the larger machines floated away, leaving Fives completely exposed. Ah, so that’s where he went. Your eyes widened as you looked between Fives’ shocked expression and Nala Se, who was still turned around and tapping at the controls. As much as you dreaded pressing further on, you needed to buy Fives enough time to make an escape back to his own room.

“But- but the tumor, Doctor. It seems to be blocking neuro-impulses from communicating with the brain. I think we should scan the rest of the clones to see if this is a problem with their base genetic model or a mutation with the current models.” The machines were all now back in place; you scanned the room with your eyes, hoping to not catch a glimpse of Fives.

“There is no tumor. Your scan is incorrect.” Nala Se departed the control panel, ambling over to the other side of the room. You really hope Fives had fled by now. Might as well keep on pressing, though. It did interest you that the Kaminoan doctor was so avidly trying to disregard what you were saying about a tumor. That was a thread you figured you should follow.

“But-”

“This clone clearly has a virus that remains undetected, but I will find the cause once he’s terminated.” You followed Nala Se until she reached Tup’s cot, her back turned to the exit. “Now leave. I’ll figure out what to do with you later.”

“Yes, Doctor.” You turned on your heels and walked out the already open door. You turned your head to watch Nala Se; she was still standing over Tup, but you were unsure of what she was doing. Something really didn’t seem right with this. You nearly crashed into Fives in the hall as you departed Tup’s room.

“I can’t believe they’re going to kill Tup!” Fives shouted in disbelief after you both had made your way back into his room and shut the door. Fives shoved the empty cot to the other side of the room, clearly frustrated.

“I know. I’m sorry, Fives.” All you could offer was a sincere apology. It didn’t seem like a great idea at present to bring up how you thought the entire ordeal with Nala Se seemed fishy.

“We were not created to be disposed of this way!” He slammed his fists on the cot, an action that seemed to be fueled by rage, but his eyes told a different story.

“Just- just think of it this way… Tup is sacrificing himself so that other clones like him can survive. Isn’t that something you said he’d want?” You went to reach for him - to offer a gentle reassuring touch - but he backed away.

“There aren’t others like him!” His raised voice prompted you to take a few steps back. You weren’t scared of him, but you understood they he may need some space right now. Maybe it would be best if you retreated to your quarters and called it a day. After all, Nala Se basically sealed your fate by undoubtedly reassigning you to the archives. It probably wasn’t appropriate that you been seen in Fives’ room anymore. Your own selfishness kept you there, though.

“I’m sorry, Ren. I don’t mean to take this out on you, I just-” You allowed yourself to take a few steps towards him. “Tup doesn’t have to die - you found a tumor. I’m sure that’s the cause of all this. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“But… how can we proceed? Dr. Nala Se basically reassigned me to the archives. I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be here with you anymore. I could get dismissed, sure, but I have no idea what would happen to you.”

“Do the biopsy. I’m sure what you find will prove Tup doesn’t have to die. Your findings would bump you up in the ‘ranks’ I’m sure, and they would have no reason to send you back to filing paperwork.” A beat. “As for me… I’ll be fine.” You both knew that was a lie. You’ve seen what the Kaminoans have done to “defective” clones. It’s all in the files. It’s inhumane. There was no way you’d let that happen to Fives.

“I’m not so sure…. Dr. Nala Se doesn’t believe-”

“We’re not going to Nala Se with whatever you find. We’ll go to General Shaak Ti. She helped me once as a cadet and I know she values the life of a clone.” Now that, that was the truth.

“Fives… I’d be disobeying direct orders.” At this point, you didn’t care what happened to you if you were to go through with this. Fives was who you were concerned with. Not because of a hopeless crush, but because of his status of patient and you sincerely cared about him.

“Yep, and for the second time today,” He jested. Not funny. You scoffed. “Ren…” There they are, yet again - the puppy dog eyes. Those, paired with how he said your name. You’d break for sure. “Will you help me? Please.”

***

“Hurry!” Fives was hunched over the control panel with you, basically micromanaging you even though he had no idea what it was you were doing.

“Fives, you’re going to have to not rush me. I’m not a droid. Give me a kriffing minute.” Your fingers tapped frantically at the screen, hitting button after button until -

“Intruder alert. Intruder alert. All nonessential personnel report to a safe room for lockdown.”

You stood up straight and grinned over at Fives, who looked a little shocked.

“What did you do?” The alert played over again on the intercom.

“I made it so that the security scanners picked up an intruder in section C-6. We need to hurry, though. I doubt it’ll take them long before they realize it’s a false alarm.”

“They taught you how to hack a security mainframe at the fancy medical academy you attended on Coruscant?”

You rolled your eyes at him, hands on your hips. “Is that really important right now?” Fives chuckled and shook his head. Grabbing his wrist, you stretched your head to look outside the door. “They have guards stationed just outside. How are we going to get over there?” You turned towards Fives, who was pulling away from you and looking up at the ceiling. You followed his gaze, and you knew exactly what he was thinking. “The vents?” You sounded a little shocked, but it really was the only safe way out of there. He tilted his head down to look at you, a smile on his face. You snorted.

“Here, I’ll climb up first and then pull you up.” Your looked over at the door again, making sure you weren’t about to get absolutely busted, and grabbed his dangling hands.

You shook your head with a smirk. “You know, I’m starting to wish I had stayed in the archives,” you jested, as Fives hoisted you up and into the vent with him.

You never realized just how creepy it was up in these vents. To be fair, there wasn’t one moment that you would’ve pictured yourself crawling through them, but here you were. It was dark, every movement you made echoed, and it was freezing cold. You – for some reason – were leading the way, crawling through the cold durasteel tunnel. Fives was silent; he wasn’t making any comments, not cracking any jokes, not even expressing his concern for Tup. It dawned on you: he was totally checking out your ass. You had shed your long lab coat before he pulled you up, knowing that it would be harder to crawl with it tugging under your knees. Fives hadn’t yet seen you without it on… and you knew how good your ass looked in the leggings you wore. With a slight chuckle to yourself, you stopped crawling for a moment and looked over your shoulder to glance at him to the best of your ability.

“Fives, are you staring at my ass?” You tried to not let your giddiness get in the way of your accusatory whispering, but you found yourself muffling laughter. He didn’t reply right away – probably trying to think up a comeback or a way to wiggle himself out of the subject.

“Fuck yeah I am,” he murmured back, sounding as cocky as ever. You bit your lip and shook your head, resuming the crawl towards the oncoming exit vent. “I don’t exactly have anything else to look at from back here, you know. I got quite a nice view, so, no complaints.” Your face heated up at his smug comment, resisting the urge to shake your ass for him – to really give him a good view. Now was not the time.

You crawled past the vent so Fives could hop down first; he plopped onto the floor, graceful and stealthy as ever, before standing directly under the vent with his arms held out.

“Common, I’ll catch you.” It really wasn’t a long way down; you’d land just fine, though probably not as gracefully as he did.

“Uh, okay…” You lowered your legs out from the ceiling, keeping your grip on the cool metal for a moment while you steadied yourself. “Fives, I think I got it. I can just hop down like th-” Your grip from the ceiling slipped, sending you down and nearly hitting the floor in the worst way possible, when strong arms found their way under your ass and back.

Fives just saved you from breaking a bone or two, and all you could do was blink up at him as his hand slightly squeezed the plushy part of your ass, the other hand gripped tightly on your waist. Maybe he thought you wouldn’t notice the way he was savoring holding you like that, but you did. And you liked it.

“Nice to look at and feels nice, too.” Fives grinned at you before setting you down on your feet. He definitely shouldn’t be talking about how your ass looks and feels right now with his friend lying nearly dead on the cot barely an arm’s length away - but, is he was open to making comments such as those during these unsure times, you’d reciprocate. A boost of confidence surged through you.

“Glad you like it, trooper. Maybe some time you can see and feel it without these in the way,” you pulled at your leggings, looking him straight in the eyes with a smirk. Seeing Fives’ expression was well worth making the comment.

“Don’t say things you can’t follow up on, Renna.” His shocked expression quickly flipped to dark, catching you completely off guard and making you gulp. Your entire body felt as if it was on fire as tiny fireworks danced in your gut. There was absolutely no way you’d be able to follow up on your innuendo-filled comment unless you found each other in another life under different circumstances. You needed to shake it out of your system.

Firing up the laser drill, you looked over at Fives and studied his worried expression. He looked so soft, so concerned – it tugged at your heart harder than you cared to admit. His focus remained on Tup until the sound of the drill made him look up.

Your hands were slightly shaking. You felt it, but it didn’t appear to be noticeable. You had never performed a biopsy on a real, living, breathing lifeform before. Everything you had done during your schooling was on the deceased or on medical dummies. You were nervous, but this wasn’t about you. You finally had the chance to save a life. You needed to pull it together.

“Renna, are you okay?” Fives’ voice nearly came out as a whisper. You looked up at his eyes; he was studying you, deeply.

You took a deep breath and nodded with a slow exhale. You turned your attention back to the drill, grabbing Tup’s head and positioning it to where you needed.

“You might want to look away at this part.”

***

You did it. A successful biopsy. Feeling a bead of sweat threatening to fall from your hairline, you wiped it away with your arm and looked up at Fives who still had his eyes squeezed shut.

“Is it done?” The absent sound of the drill encouraged him to open his eyes. You held up the tumor, encased in a transparent casing. You handed it to Fives; he studied it closely, bringing it up to his face with a sigh. The moment was over when the door whisked open.

“What have you done?” Dr. Nala Se came into the room; Fives didn’t appear frightened, but you sure as fuck were.

“We saved my friend’s life.” Fives whipped around to face the “long-neck” - as he calls them - holding up the tumor in an accusing manner towards her, “This tumor is the cause of his illness.” She reached out and tried to grab the encased organic matter, but Fives maintained a hard grip as they fought for it.

“Give me that!” Nala Se looked angrier than you had ever seen her. You ran up to them, trying to stop something before it started.

“You can’t be trusted.” Fives reached down to Tup’s cot with his free hand, grabbing a mysterious syringe, and held it up in a threatening manner. You reached your hands up to stop him, but Shaak Ti’s sudden arrival did the job for you.

“Stand down, trooper.” She stood at the doorway with her hand outstretched. Jedi didn’t need to hold a weapon; you knew what they could do with just one outstretched hand in the blink of an eye. You’ve never seen it in action, but you’ve heard stories.

Fives dropped the hand holding the syringe but kept hold of the tumor with his other. “I have evidence. It’s right here!” He sounded desperate. This looked way too bad. You were caught right in the middle of it all, too.

“I’m free…” A weak voice croaked from the cot, making all the heads in the room turn in the same direction. Tup. Fives let go of the tumor and whipped his body around to face his friend, crouching down next to Tup and leaned in close.

“Tup?”

“The mission… free.”

“What is he saying?” Shaak Ti entered through the threshold, a few guards flowing in from behind her with their blasters aimed at Fives.

“Brother, what mission?” It was apparent that Fives was trying to understand what was coming from Tup’s mouth, and could not care less that his own kind were holding weapons to him. It had been the first time anyone had heard Tup speak words that didn’t sound like “kill” and “Jedi” since his arrival.

“You… you know the one. The- the mission, the one in our dreams…” Fives’ wide eyes scanned over his friend, searching for a clue, for anything. “…that never ends.”

You were frozen in your spot, taking in Tup’s bewildering words. You watched Fives’ expression as he frantically tried to decipher what Tup was murmuring. You glanced up from them, seeing the guards' buckets turn to look back and forth at each other. The mission - the one from their dreams?

“Oh, brother…” Tup’s hand lifted to the best of its ability; Fives grabbed it with his own and squeezed. This moment was so raw, so emotional, so real. You never would have thought…

“This is the end. Forget the mission.” Tup was fading away. You could hear it in his voice, and you knew that Fives knew what was coming. It looked as though Fives was holding back tears – trying to keep his composure. “Oh, the nightmare. I’m… free.” With that, Tup was gone.

You scanned the room. Shaak Ti bowed her head, hand over her heart. The other clones lowered their weapons down to their sides, heads bowing. Nala Se, however, remined the same. Her expression never changed. Heartless Kaminoans.

Fives was shaking his friend’s body, begging him to come back. “I thought I saved him…” You didn’t know what to do now. Tup was gone, and it was your fault. He was alive until you removed the tumor. Fives was in pain – mourning for his brother because of you. You took a few steps back, and leaned against the counter, your fingers combing through your scalp. Not only did you disobey direct orders twice today, but you also killed the very first lifeform you did a biopsy on, and to top that off, the patient you killed was important - a brother - to someone you deeply cared about.

***

Fives was placed under arrest just shorty after. Tup’s body wasn’t even cold yet.

You stood there in silence; Fives locked eyes with yours as he was almost forcefully escorted out of the room by the surrounding guards. It was clear that both of you were trying to communicate with the other using only your eyes, but no distinct message was coming across. You wanted to tell him you were so sorry for everything, and that you’d miss him, that you’d never forget him and Tup, and that meeting him changed your view of the clones entirely. But, there were no final goodbyes, no condolences given. Fives would be taken away, and you would be dismissed. You’ll miss Fives with all your heart, but you won’t miss Kamino.

General Shaak Ti followed behind the guards, leaving you in the macabre room with Dr. Nala Se and Tup’s lifeless body. It was silent for a moment before Nala Se looked over to you, shaking her head in disbelief. You were in big trouble.

“Miss Renna,” the long-neck approached slowly, closing the gap between where you were hunched forward over the counter resting on your elbows and where she was covering Tup’s body with a sheet. “I can not condone this type of behavior from an intern. I have no choice but to reassign you to your previous duties in the archives indefinitely.” You were not at all surprised. You nodded slowly, still not looking up at her. You felt numb. Only three days into real field experience, and you fucked up royally. You didn’t need to help Fives, resulting you in ending up in whatever this is. It was interesting that you weren’t dismissed like you’d assume you would be – just reassigned. The thing with Dr. Nala Se acting weird when Tup’s tumor came into play still was on the front of your mind; perhaps you would be able to look into these matters during your long, boring hours in the archives.

Finally looking up at Nala Se, “What… what is going to happen to my patient?” The words nearly came out choked as you tried to hide your worry for Fives. You needed to keep up the front – the professionality of it – so no suspicion would arise. She was scrolling through a datapad, clutching the tumor in her three fingers. The tumor. You tried to study it from afar - what it looked like, the coloring, how the cells neighbored inside it. It looked... dead. Depleted. You snapped your eyes away and over at the dead trooper, whose body was now completely covered by a thin sheet, when Nala Se spoke again.

“Do not worry about ARC-5555. It will be taken care of, so we can put this matter behind us. Just be thankful I didn’t dismiss you, Miss Renna. You are too valuable to replace with some other eager intern.”

Valuable? ‘It’? Taken care of?

“I am thankful, Doctor. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” You were motioned to exit the room; as you walked by Nala Se, you caught one last glance at the tumor, attempting to burn the image of it in your brain and commit it to memory. There was something about the tumor – something that prompted strange behavior from the Kaminoans – and you needed to figure out what that something was.

***

tags: @bvcketfvcker @deewithani @chromia7567 @cyaniderainfall

#djarrex writes #countermeasures series #arc trooper fives x reader #arc trooper fives x oc #arc trooper fives x you #arc trooper fives smut #fives x you #fives x reader #fives x oc #fives smut #the clone wars fic #the clone wars smut #the clone wars #conspiracy arc #the clone wars conspiracy arc

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yourfavwriter · 4 years ago

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Mark but make it jealous

Tag: @floweringtheflowers IM SORRY I TOOK FOREVER BUT I WAS SO BUSY WITH SCHOOL AND EVERYTHING ILY BAE IM SO SORRY IF IVE LET YOU DOWN WITH THIS 😔

Summary: Mark was usually all soft and sweet to you, who knew what getting coffee would do to the man.

Notes: smut so if you're not into that don't read it, dom Mark and sub reader, reader is female

You breathed in the scent of fresh steaming coffee and sweet cake as you held Marks warm hand in yours. As you walked up to the cashier you kept repeating your order in your head making sure not to mess up.

"Hello what can I do for you guys today" the cashier asked only quickly glancing at Mark as he studied your face taking in your sparkly eyes and plump, soft lips.

"Hi can I have one tall iced coffee with sugar and cream? Also some caramel on top." You said. You watched as the cashier typed away on his little board.

"Okay one tall iced coffee for the lovely lady, what about you sir" Mark stirred uncomfortably at the flirty remarks of the cashier but as to not start anything big went along with it.

"Hey yeah I just want a small black coffee." The cashier nodded and typed away at the register.

"Okay that brings your total to $10.45." you attempted to slip your hand away from Mark's to grab your purse but before you could Mark took out his credit card and payed instead. "Hey I said I was gonna pay!" You whispered looking at Mark. He smiled,

"Too late I already did" you pouted and went back to staring at all the cakes on display as you waited for your drinks.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick" Mark said pulling his hand away from yours you nodded still staring at all the cakes.

"So is he your boyfriend or something?" You heard the cashier ask. You were taken aback by the question since it had come out of nowhere but you simply smiled.

"Yes he is"

"Ahh I see." He side clicking his tongue

"You seem to be out of his league if I'm being honest with you, you're very beautiful you deserve a real man." Your smile slowly faded off your face and you cleared your throat trying to ignore his attempts to get with you.

"Awe come on don't ignore me now I was playing with you. But if you ever get tired of him just know I'm free whenever you need me." As he finished his sentence he slid you a napkin with his number on it. You looked towards the bathroom trying to find Mark only for him to be no where in sight.

"Here's your coffees have a nice day and don't forget to call me" the cashier said winking after. You grabbed the drinks and took them to a table to wait for Mark making sure to throw out the napkin he gave you on the way. As you waited for Mark you impatiently tapped your feet until

"Hey babe"

"Hey Mark can we leave now?"

"Uh sure" Mark was confused on why you were so nervous but thought it was just the jitters, public settings weren't always the best for you so he understood. You suddenly felt someone tap your shoulder and you knew who it was. Before you could turn around and tell him to leave you alone he spoke up,

"I noticed you threw the other napkin away so here's another napkin" you an Mark turned in sync to look at the chaser who was now holding out another napkin with his phone number and name clearly written on it. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see Mark fuming.

"Uhm that's sweet of you but-"

"She has a boyfriend dude back off" Mark said now wrapping his arm around your waist.

"Uh yeah but she could probably use my number just in case you know." You internally face-palmed as embarrassment filled your body. Mark scoffed before he replied back with anger

"Thanks for the offer but I'm all she needs."

"I was just playing around bro don't take it to the heart." The cashier said before he gave Mark a light punch on the shoulder and walked away. Mark grabbed your wrist and led you out of the coffee shop and to your car. You caught one last glimpse of the cashier as Mark dragged you out of that hell hole and he simply smirked at you, you were now angry too for the man to flirt so shamelessly with you. The whole ride home was silent you only quietly sipped on your coffee in case anything you said angered him further.

"So you wanna explain what that was back there?" Mark asked as soon as you stepped foot through the door. You slowly turned to look at him in disbelief, almost laughing at his question.

"I don't think I have to explain anything you saw that cashier flirting with me."

"And you did nothing to stop him" you were now not only angry and the cashier but Mark too.

"You act like I was flirting with him"

"You might as well have been you were all 'awweee i have a boyfriend maybe flirt with me while he's not looking'" Mark said mocking your voice and even going as far as to bat his eyelashes.

"Okay Mark what the fuck? I was declining his offer gently as to not make a big deal but you act as if I was cheating on you?"

"You could've been more firm with your words since he obviously wasn't getting the point"

"I was trying to be nice what did you want me to slap him infront of everyone or something?"

"Uhm kind of!" Mark said throwing his hands in the air as if it were the obvious route to take.

"I seriously can't believe you right now some creep was hitting on me right infront of you and you blame me for not being stern enough with him when you did nothing!" You raised your voice obviously pissed now.

"I'm the one who got you out of there!" Mark said also raising his voice now.

"I wish he was the one getting me out of there" you mumbled under your breath apparently loud enough to Mark to hear.

"What. Did. You. Just. Say." He said clenching his teeth trying his best to keep his calm. You decided to tease him as pay back for his blaming your innocent self.

"I said 'i wish he was the one getting me out of there' did you not hear me the first-" you were cut off when Mark suddenly pushed you up against the wall, his face mere inches away from yours.

"So you wanna act up now?" He said pinning your wrists against the wall. You nodded smiling just to anger him further. He scoffed and looked away for a second.

"Oh you're so in for it tonight." He leaned in to kiss you but your turned your face at the last second still not done with your teasing.

"I see how it is" Was the last thing you heard before he threw you over his shoulder and took you straight to the bedroom. You tried flailing your arms and legs

"Mark let me go!" You whined not actually meaning it but saying it just to see his reaction (remember consent is key children if someone says no or to stop mid-action respect their wishes) he simply ignored all your poor attempts to escape and went on his merry way. When he entered the bedroom he dropped you on the mattress and immediately got in top of you.

He kissed you roughly for a bit before leaving a hot trial of kisses down your jaw and onto your neck, making sure to such hickeys on to your neck.

You sighed in pleasure which didn't last long, next thing you knew he was practically trying to rip your top off of you after getting frustrated with the buttons. You giggled to yourself before moving his hands and undoing the buttons yourself. After your shirt was taken care of he reached around your back and unclipped your bra with one single movement, exposing your chest to him.

You were expecting him to start massaging or playing with your breasts like he usually did but instead he went to unbutton your jeans, it did catch you by surprise but he was still angry at you and angry Mark means no foreplay.

He was having trouble figuring out your jeans to which you helped him yet again and as soon as he could he threw your jeans across the room, panties still on.

He quickly rose to his feet and undressed himself leaving only his boxers on, you bit your lip at the sight infront of you. Mark knelt on the bed and turned your body so that you were now on your stomach. Before you could ask what he was doing he put you face down, ass up in the air. You felt his hand rub against your smooth ass and relished the feeling of him being gentle before he released all his anger and stress on you.

Just as you were about to make some snarky remark about him being so gentle after all his roughness he spanked you. You jolted at the sudden noise and felt a stinging pain.

"Ow Mark that hurt!"

"Did i say you could speak?" He asked in a low voice. His voice was scarly calm compared to his actions which confused you.

"No but-"

"Then be quiet." You immediately shut your mouth and surrendered to his touch. He spanked you once, twice, three times, 4 times, and one last time. By the time he was done your eyes were threatening to spill out a river of tears and your knees were just about to give out. Mark held you steady in place and pushed your panties to the side exposing your already dripping core.

"You really get this turned on just by me being angry?" Mark said while chuckling. You whined eager to feel him inside you and he complied. Mere seconds later you felt him enter you and immediately start pouring into you, not letting you adjust to his size.

"Mark! Slow..slow down" you stuttered trying to hold yourself together. He only went faster and pounded deeper into you, tempting you to let out the sinful sounds he always loved to hear from you. You moaned and whimper so close to orgasming before Mark pulled out. He quickly flipped you over so that you were on your back and entered you again before you could let out any words. The sound of both you and mark moaning and your skin slapping made you come undone in his hands.

"I'm gonna..." You trailer off seeing stars as you closer your eyes.

"You're gonna cum aren't you?" Mark said all cockily only he could fuck you this good and only he could get you to be a whimpering mess with just his light touches. You nodded vigorously. You came with Mark still inside of you and when he felt you walls clench around him he pulled out cumming all over your thighs. You panted and closed your eyes close to sleeping when you heard his voice right next to you now.

"Don't fall asleep yet princess I'm not done with you just yet."

#nct dream #nct 127 #nct smut #nct mark #nct imagines #nct #nct au #im just trying to put a lot of hashtags so someone sees this #idk what else to tag

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robinofinashiro · 4 years ago

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love me love me / pretend that you love me / leave me leave me / say that you need me / so i cry and i pray for you to love me /

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x fem! reader

note: the next imagine is part seven!! i’ve been rewatching haikyuu and sakusa has been living in my head rent free since then. I swear all of your req’s will be filled out but i wanna break up posts so it isn’t all just AoT.

it wasn’t a secret to any of the MSBY players that both you and Sakusa were rather close to each other. it came off to no surprise to anyone, however; Atsumu being the privileged little prick he was, loved to poke fun at his most serious teammate.

“hey sweetie,” Atsumu said, walking up to you as he wrapped his practice jersey around his neck and purposely showing off his bare upper body, “good morning Miya,” you replied, giving him a water bottle. he gave you a frown, “aww, what’s up with the last name?” he asked, making you slap his arm.

Sakusa walked in with Hinata and Bokuto, the two of them talking his ear off about whatever it was they did last night. Sakusa’s eyebrows fluttered to confusion. he saw Atsumu basically giving you a show with him being shirtless and you weren’t stopping him from doing it.

given that you were one of their managers, it was second hand nature that you would see them like that every so often, but what Sakusa didn’t like was that he was alone like that with you. you were a cute girl, no one could deny that, so seeing you with Atsumu like that made him a bit angry.

“good morning boys! hope all of you slept well last night!” you said happily, giving each boy their water bottles and towels for practice. usually, Sakusa would have stood by you and talked with you a bit but for whatever reason, you realized he didn’t and felt a bit odd, “your coach is running late. traffic was pretty nasty coming from our end of town so he instructed me to tell all of you to start practice without him,” you informed.

they all nodded, pulling on their shoes and jerseys. you grabbed Sakusa’s wrist, gently holding it, “are you okay? you seem upset.” you asked him, hoping no one heard. he gave you an empty stare and walked onto the court without saying a word.

you huffed, banking on the hope that maybe Sakusa was just having a rough day and it wasn’t you that had made him upset. in the time that his coach was still gone, everyone on the team practiced but still managed to goof around when they could. however, you could tell that Sakusa was still being abnormally angry and this time, it was at Atsumu.

“okay, timeout,” you screamed, getting up from your chair, “Kiyoomi, is something wrong? you don’t seem like yourself,” you told Sakusa quietly. he shrugged, watching you drink your energy drink in nervousness, “seriously Sakusa, whatever is bothering you is affecting the way you play.”

Sakusa rolled his eyes before giving Atsumu a quick look.

“maybe you should have worried about my playing before you decided to flirt with one of my teammates.” you stared at him in confusion, wondering where the hell he got the idea that you were flirting with any of his teammates, “are you kidding me? I wasn’t flirting with anyone,” you stated, feeling your anger starting to rise.

the entire gym had fallen silent as the argument started getting louder, “so you weren’t just flirting with my setter when we walked in?” he said a bit too calmly. you let out a laugh, trying to figure out where his mind was, “me? flirting with Atsumu? let’s be real here!” you exclaimed.

Atsumu remained quiet, not knowing what Sakusa was even talking about, “I just found it weird that he was shirtless and getting really close with you when we walked in and you had no intentions to stop it. if I knew any better, I would say you were-,” you bit your lip as a way to stop yourself from letting anything irrational come out of your mouth but it immediately failed.

“I dare you to finish that sentence. I fucking DARE you,” you screamed, catching everyone off guard. even Sakusa himself was stunned by your tone of voice. “I am so sorry for causing a scene right now, Meian, but I’m just fucking dumbfounded at the idea that Sakusa thinks I’m sleeping with the entire team!”

“I never accused you of that!” “please! everyone knows what you were hinting at! unless I missed the ballpark completely then you can gladly explain what you meant!”

Sakusa remained silent knowing he was caught red handed.

you had no intentions of blurting this out but as your argument continued, it came like word vomit.

“see, I wasn’t even going mention this to anyone because I was planning on extending my contract with the team, however; it’s funny how your true colors about me came out the week you play the Adlers.”

the entire team fell stiff, a feeling of sudden fear crawling up their skin.

“you all know that I came out of Karasuno with Kageyama and Hinata, right? so when Kageyama called me earlier this week talking about how their manager was retiring at the end of their season and they were looking for trained manager to take her place, I found it a bit odd because I knew that he knew I was your manager.”

“what are you trying to say?” Hinata murmured, trying to ease the tension but failing easily, “what I’m trying to say Hinata, is that the contract Kageyama offered me doesn’t sound so bad considering I’d now be a detriment to the team because of my relationship with Sakusa.”

the team had a dead silence looming over them as they watched you sit down on your seat again.

“funny that you’re playing Schweiden on Thursday, right Sakusa?” you could see Sakusa’s face go even paler than it usually was as you didn’t bother to give him another look.

you watched as Samson walked into the gym, wondering why the team wasn’t practicing. you made up a lie knowing that if the real reason came out, it would cause an entire commotion that they couldn’t afford to have at the moment.

“oh, Hinata accidentally hurt his finger so I had to bandage him up,” you told Samson as he gave Hinata a look for confirmation. Hinata nodded, getting to his position and looking at Bokuto, who was still shook by the news you had said, “I’ll be in the club office getting their towels ready for later.”

Samson yelled at everyone to start practicing again as he blew the whistle.

a smirk was playing on your face as you knew what you had said had scared everyone to their core. a part of you did want to leave the team to see what Kodaira had to offer but you knew in your heart that you could actually never leave the team without feeling like the biggest piece of shit.

a bit later, you heard Samson blow the whistle indicating that their fifteen minute break started. you pulled up Hoshiumi’s contact and called him knowing that one of either Bokuto or Hinata would come into the room to ask you about earlier.

“hey! what’s up!” you said happily as you put him on speaker, “so, are you calling about Kageyama’s offer?” he asked excitedly. you rolled your eyes, seeing Hinata’s bright orange hair reflect on the glass in front of you.

“um, I was wondering if we could all meet up? at least you and Kageyama that is. Ushijima still kind of scares me,” you giggled making Hoshiumi chuckle along with you, “of course! we’re going to be in Higashiosaka until Saturday. we can meet up on Friday if you’d like to talk!” he exclaimed.

you saw Hinata’s scared expression through the glass and tried to hold in your laugh, “of course! I can take both of you to a restaurant that I always go to with the team,” you offered. you heard Hoshiumi’s excited yell, “I’ll talk to you later, okay? I’m in the middle of a practice but I felt like it was rude to leave you and Kageyama hanging.”

Hinata had heard enough.

he ran out to where the team was, hoping that Samson wasn’t in the gym to hear what he was about to say. lucky enough, he wasn’t.

“what are you so jumpy about now?” Sakusa asked him. Hinata glared at Sakusa, "I heard ( your name ) on the phone with Hoshiumi just now. she’s going to meet with him and Kageyama on Friday to talk about their offer to her,” he explained, his eyes never leaving the black haired boy.

Bokuto, on one of his rare moments of anger, looked over to Sakusa and shook his head, “you couldn’t just tell her how you felt when the two of you were alone? your assumptions might’ve costed us one of our managers!” he yelled.

Hinata and Atsumu remained quiet as Meian told everyone to drop the subject before you came out of the room to hear them talking about you. Atsumu walked over to Sakusa and leaned into his ear knowing that Sakusa hated being that close to anyone.

“you could have just asked me and I would’ve told you the truth. we’re just friends and I would never actually make a move on her. you’re my friend and you’re practically in love with her.”

Atsumu shook his head once more disappointedly before going to the bench for a water break.

Sakusa had felt the stares coming from his teammates as they all murmured to themselves to try and figure out a way to make you stay with the team. they all thought of you as their family and didn’t want another team to take you away from them.

a few days had passed since that fateful argument with Sakusa. while you did keep in touch with Atsumu, Hinata, and Bokuto, they had yet to bring up what you had told them that day.

the game against Schweiden came. you were getting ready in your apartment, blasting some music when you heard your phone going off. you looked down to see who it was and you were surprised to see that it was Kageyama of all people.

“hey Tobio! what’s up?” you said. “Hoshiumi was wondering if we could give you a ride to the Jackals gym?” he asked, “you know, so it isn’t too weird tomorrow?” you could hear the awkwardness radiating through his voice as he tried to talk as casual as possible.

“of course Kags. listen, we’ve been friends for years. why are you still so awkward with me?” he growled, calling you a baka before telling you he and Hoshiumi would be there soon, “goodbye Kags! see you in a bit!”

just as you were about to put your phone down, you saw that Atsumu was calling you.

“hey Miya, what’s going on!” you greet. you heard him and a few others in the car, hushing down, “do you need a ride to the gym? we’re passing your house on the way so we figured if you wanted, we could pick you up!” you looked down at yourself in the mirror knowing you could keep up your little charade of scaring Sakusa going even longer.

“sorry, Hoshiumi and Kageyama are actually picking me up but I’ll see you at the gym! we need to go over a few things before the game starts.”

Bokuto told you a hesitant goodbye as you hung up the phone. you could tell that you little plan was starting to affect Bokuto and the rest of the team.

you heard the horn of whatever Hoshiumi was picking you up in. you quickly grabbed your apartment keys and your bag before running out the door. Hoshiumi had his head popped out of the car, waving at your like maniac. Kageyama on the other hand sighed in disappointment.

“hey boys, how are you?” you asked them, jumping into the back seat. you hadn’t realized that Ushijima was in the back, quiet as ever. “oh, Ushiwaka, you’re here! I didn’t think you’d be accompanying them today.” you said, poking his side jokingly.

he hummed, giving you a nod with a small blush spreading across his face.

the entire time to the Jackals gym, Hoshiumi and Kageyama did most to the talking. most their talking consisting of the two arguing with each other as you and Ushijima talked quietly with each other. the entire time both of you talked, you hadn’t realized how cute Ushijima actually was. a bit stoic but regardless, you found his shy nature kind of adorable.

the gym was already packed with fans entering through the front and side gates. you told the boys a quick goodbye, running to the Jackals employee entrance to meet up with Atsumu and Hinata.

“hey, how was the ride with those losers?” Atsumu asked, poking fun at Kageyama and Hoshiumi, “it was fun. talked with Ushijima the entire time though. he’s actually more talkative than you think!” you exclaimed, the two of them noticing the small blush playing on your face.

“wait! do you have a thing for Ushijima?” Atsumu asked, dragging you to the corner so Hinata wouldn’t hear. you shook your head, “no, I just think he’s cute. but you know....everything with Sakusa, I could never just leave him for Adler’s or Ushijima,” you replied, “no matter how shitty he treats me, I guess you could say I like Kiyo a lot.”

Sakusa felt his heart drop hearing you confession. he really didn’t deserve you. after accusing of you of what he thought you did with Atsumu and then ultimately denying the offer from the Adler’s, he knew he owed you big time for it.

you walked out of the locker room, Atsumu still poking fun at your confession for Sakusa.

speaking of the devil himself, you saw Sakusa leaned up against the wall, hoping to catch your attention. you gave him a glance, not bothering to say anything to him but he caught your wrist, making Atsumu walk away semi awkwardly.

“what do you want Sakusa?” you asked, giving him a dirty look. he sighed, rubbing his thumb across your palm, “I’m still really upset at you and you don’t deserve to talk to me right now,” you growled.

he didn’t budge from letting you go and instead, placed a kiss on your forehead, feeling a bit awkward with giving you the kiss you deserved in the public. you sighed, not bothering to fight it anymore.

“Sakusa, I like you, really do but what you said hurt me and you’re going to have to work hard to get me to trust you again.”

Sakusa nodded understandingly.

“and I’ll work as hard as I have to make you trust me again.”

#haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #sports anime #sport anime #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi imagine #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x you

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hot-wiings · 4 years ago

Text

The One Where You're Stuck At A Work Christmas Party, But At Least You Have Your Cute, Charming Coworker At Your Side.

Edited: 12-8-2020

"Would you like to pay for that upfront, or at the end of the night?"

“Isn't this an open bar party?”

You stared at the bartender with confounded and bewildered eyes and she nervously shifted as she stood, her eyes looking at the counter, occasionally glancing at other people at the bar avoiding your eyes. You took one strong whiff in her general direction and you could get a good reading on her aura, her feelings.

Molten Cheese; Anxiety. Rotten Eggs; Nervousness. Formaldehyde; Fear.

It was your quirk that gave you such access to her vibes. You could smell emotions and feelings, provided you were within smelling distance then you could release your on pungent scents and alter someone's emotions, however, the stronger the emotions of a person then sometimes it would alter your mood. When you were younger you couldn't understand it, you didn't understand these feelings you felt or why you could smell people so strongly, as you got older you realized what each scent meant, the more pungent the stronger the feeling, the more floral meant someone was in a positive mood, and the more putrid meant they were the latter.

“I’m sorry ma’am, this is not an open bar. I can make a tab for you...”

You had to roll your eyes. Your company was probably the only company not to spring for an open bar for a Christmas party. You knew it was to discourage drinking, but they had to understand, as a hero, you dealt with a lot of things on your average day. The people you don't save, the countless lives that were waste and killed, children and the elderly, the horrors you saw on the battlefield. Sometimes you needed to let loose from all it, and whom more responsible to drink than a party full of heroes? Your bosses would digress.

Of course, none of this was the bartender's fault, and you felt slightly bad for getting upset after you smelled her aroma. She was young, obviously new to her job, and nervous to be dealing with alcoholics and tipsy people for the first time. Even if everyone here was probably a hero, it could still be very daunting. You never knew how someone would react under the influence, especially someone you didn't personally know.

“This is your first day on the job isn't it?”

“Is it that obvious? It's not just my first day, it's my first job.”

The girl nervously chuckled while she scratched the back of her neck, still nervously avoiding your eyes. You tapped your foot against the floor, her strong nerves beginning to affect your mood, and take over your nervous system. This was a great quirk to use on the field, especially in hostage situations, it helped you understand villains and easily sway their decision to harm people, but your mood was so easily affected by other negative emotions. It was so draining to try and change someone's mood to stop you from being affected, you changed one person, and soon three negative auras replacing it.

“That explains a lot, you're perfume is so pungent."

"Oh! You're the smelly hero, oh gosh- I- uh..."

Her eyes lit up as she realized who you were and she smiled, but the smile quickly faded as she realized what she had called you. It wasn't the first time someone realized who you were and it wouldn't be the last but never had someone so horribly botched your hero name. Maybe it was the nerves, the anxiety, the embarrassment, and every strong negative emotion she was feeling being absorbed up into your mood, but you felt completely mortified. You felt embarrassed with her and suddenly, you were crossed with the anxious thought about whether that's what your coworker called you behind your back. You wanted to cry. It was so irrational, but that's what her vibes were making you feel.

Christmas Cookies; Joy. Pine Trees; Relaxation. Candy Canes; Energetic.

The new smells engulfed you. They surrounded you as if you were inside a bakery. They entered your lungs, with each breath out and each new intake of oxygen it was there, you couldn't escape it and you didn't want to. It was distinctly joyful, distinctly happy and laidback, distinctly him. No matter how his smells changed on a day to day basis, you would recognize his scent anywhere. It was so pungent, so strong, and you could smell a lingering scent of the ocean. The smells wrapped you up and shifted your mood, they took away every negative emotion coursing through your body and replaced it with those of positivity.

You looked over your shoulder with a smile on your face as you spotted him. The Stun Gun Hero: Charge Bolt. He had a grin on his face as he sauntered over to you at the bar and occupied the barstool next to you.

"Sunset rum for the lady, on me."

The woman scurried away to make the drink with an embarrassed blush on her cheeks. You turned to Denki and smiled. You didn't know if it was purely lack of brain cells, or what, but the man was always grinning. He was always smiling, he was always happy. Even on bad days, even when battling villains he seemed to reek of dopamine, serotonin, happy endorphins. You didn't know how he did it, but you were grateful for it. On days when you were stuck in the office doing paperwork or studying up on the villains you were tracking down, your coworkers seemed to bring you down. So many negative feelings from different people took hold of you, sometimes you couldn't handle all of them at once and you needed to escape it all.

That's when you discovered Denki Kaminari, a faint scent of happiness among the abyss of dark emotions. Sometimes you found yourself craving his scent, sometimes you found yourself just standing outside of his office door, just breathing him in. You were sure he'd find it weird that you stood outside his office door trying to get a whiff of his smell, but it was so much more than that. He helped you feel good, he helped the bad feelings go away and he didn't even know.

"You don't have to pay for my drink."

"But I want to, besides, I can tell you've had a pretty rough day."

“I'd rather be at home, management said I had to come, apparently I'm not social enough, and I need to strengthen my relationships with the other heroes.”

“What a pain. I came for the drinks, didn't realize they weren't free.”

The bartender set down your drink in front of you and you took a swig from it, letting the alcohol wash over your senses as you turned to Denki again. It was a strong drink and you could already feel it taking its toll, but Denki had paid for it, and wouldn't it be rude not to drink it?

“Fuck work parties, am I right?”

“Well, they're not all bad. The foods free, and I'm sitting here with a really beautiful woman.”

A blush makes way across your face, dusting your cheeks a pink color as you turn your gaze back to your drink. You thought about how to reply to his blatant flirting as you swirled the liquid around in your cup. He always threw comments like this towards you. After a training session, after you'd taken down a villain together, when you were stuck in the elevator, and even by the coffee machine. If it was anybody else but Denki, you would've filed a sexual harassment charge, but Denki was so kind and so nice about it. His smell wasn't hostile or putrid, it was always sweet. He never threw these compliments your way when you were alone, he always did it in the presence of others. He did that to avoid making you uncomfortable by giving you flirtatious attention alone, but you always took it as ungenuine feelings, but he did it so often, and so kindly, perhaps he did mean his words. Maybe it was his feelings affecting yours, or maybe it was the alcohol, but you flirted back in your own coy way.

“True’ and I have the pleasure of having the company of such a charming, handsome man.”

Denki lightly chucked at your words, flattered and surprised you flirted back. Through all his time knowing you, you just blushed and thanked him for the compliment. Truthfully, he was ready to give up on his attempts, but you had never told him you didn't like his subtle advances. His chuckle only increased the blush on your cheeks. You brought your cup up to your lips and emptied the remainder of the contents down your throat, letting the liquid courage wash over you completely, enhancing your sense of smell and making you slightly tipsy. You always had been a lightweight, and how were you to know sunset rum was eighty percent alcohol, that's sixteen times the amount of the average beer.

“So I- Are you okay?”

Your eyes were closed, making you look asleep. Leaning closer to Denki, trying to get a better whiff of him, you were practically falling out of your barstool. Denki stood up from his stool and gently pushed you back into yours so you wouldn't fall, but instead, you gripped onto his jacket and pulled him closer to you.

“I’m fine! You just- God! You smell like Christmas!”

Denki would have blushed or laughed at your words, but your tone had gotten louder and your words were slightly slurred. You were obviously drunk, or at least seriously tipsy. If he had known you were such a lightweight he would've ordered you a lighter drink.

“Ma’am, can I have water?”

“Sure.”

“I don't need water, I'm not drunk.”

“Right, you want to jump my bones sober then?”

Your hands were still gripping Denki's jacket and your nose was in his neck, practically hugging him. In your defense, he was the one who made the first move by pushing you back in your chair.

“I’m not trying to jump your bones! You just smell so good, you always smell good.”

You whined your words out and a deep blush came across Denki as your words entered his ears. Denki would never admit it to anyone, but the real reason he came here tonight was because he heard you would be there. Over the years of working with you, he had developed a small crush. You were so admirable, so amazing. You dedicated your career not to just saving people, but using your quirk to save the criminals, to understanding them and taking them down using pathos rather than violence.

“I always smell good?”

“Yes! God yes. I love the way you smell, it makes me so happy and warm. Sometimes I walk by your office just to steal some of your serotonin.”

Your confession made Denki smile as the bartender set down a cup of water in front of you. Embarrassment flooded your body as you realized what you had said to him. When you were tipsy you could say some honest things, but this was a deep secret you'd been harboring.

“I shouldn't have drank, I can't believe I said that. I- I should go home.”

You stood up from the stool with your bag in hand, tripping slightly as you went. Denki quickly grabbed onto your wrist and tugged you towards him. Still buzzed, you didn't fight him and tumbled towards his chest.

"Don't go, you're drunk. If anything happened to you, I wouldn't forgive myself. Have a glass of water."

"This is embarrassing. I'm not being creepy, I swear. Your happy mood, it helps calm me down."

“You know, my flirting isn't meaningless. I think your quirk is neat and special, I think you're neat and special. If smelling me helps you calm down, then by all means, next time come into my office."

You took the glass of water and took tiny little sips to help sober yourself up. A blush spread across your face again, Denki had just indirectly confessed to you. You thought his flirting was meaningless, you thought he didn't really like you like that. You had such a fear of rejection around him, scared he would find your smelling habits weird, but he didn't. You leaned up to Denki again, this time was not to smell him drunkly, but to place a quick, sweet, chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Think you can say all of that to me tomorrow when I'm sober?"

"Depends. Tomorrow's Christmas, do you want to see me tomorrow, or are you going to regret tonight? Regret accepting my drink, regret spending the evening with me."

Denki bit his lip, and a new scent came from him. A foreign one. You had never smelt such a thing coming from him. He had always been so happy, but now you could smell fear, anxiety, everything the waitress reeked of earlier. It appeared you were not the only one with worries and fear of rejection. Lacing your fingers with Denki's, you reassured him the only way your inebriated mind could think of, by using a pickup line.

"You wanna know what I told Santa I wanted for Christmas?"

"Hmm?"

"Told him I wanted you."

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sirowsky · 4 years ago

Text

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature/Explicit 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Language, smut.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: So, I’m suffering side-effects from vaccination today, and I’m kinda out of it. So this chapter might be too, I honestly can’t tell right now. Anyway, it’s all smut and fun times, so enjoy! :D

Chapter 26

Monday arrived like a freight-train, and getting up that morning turned out to be almost impossible, because Marcus had decided to pick that moment in time to be his most adorable – and most impossible self.

You’d had an active night, repeatedly waking up to find yourself wet and pining as though you’d been dreaming about sex for hours. It had happened three times during the night, and no matter how much you’d tried to just breathe and relax and calm down, it had only gotten worse, and you’d had no choice but to wake him, each time, and ask him to help you. Obviously, he was only happy to help, sleepily smiling and pulling you to him to warm himself up. The third time you’d just groaned after you woke up, and he’d started laughing when the sound woke him too.

“Seriously, hermosa, are you in heat or something?”

“I fucking hope so… This is exhausting.”

“Come here, I’ll do the work this time, you just relax.”

All of this meant that you hadn’t gotten back to any real deep sleep before the alarm went off, and you woke up feeling restless but also somehow heavy and sluggish. And then there was your beloved fiancé. You had kept him up for most of the night, and so when the alarm went off, he decided to punish you by not letting you get up. You turned the alarm off and then rolled over on your back and sighed, and suddenly he was on top of you, sleepy and warm and heavy, and utterly unmovable. He didn’t instigate anything or even speak to you, he just laid there, falling back asleep with you as his mattress.

“Marcus, don’t. Please, I’ve already got Management on my back, I don’t need to be squished from the front too.”

“Mmmm… but you’re sooo squishy…”

Even though he was practically asleep, he started hardening against you, and even though you were stressed and exhausted in equal measure, your fucking body responded as though you hadn’t been with him for months.

“I don’t have time for this, baby.”

That seemed to wake him up, and he ground himself hard against your mound, eliciting several involuntary whimpers from you. Yes, whimpers. You were that fucking desperate.

“But what if this makes a baby?”

The words sent tendrils of pleasure through your nerves, and your inside walls were suddenly quaking. He could feel you react, so he pressed himself inside, and you gasped and clutched him to you as hard as your arms and legs would allow you.

“What if you really are in some kind of heat, and this is the perfect time.”

Your limbs were shaking, trying to hold him even tighter to you, needing him as though he was oxygen and you were drowning.

“You don’t wanna waste it, do you?”

Your power shot out, hard and short, and you were just able to direct it down underneath you, shattering the legs of the bed and probably the frame too. But you hardly even noticed as Marcus ignored it and drove into you faster and deeper, making you come with more than one loud moan, before he followed.

“Fuck… See what you did?”

“Oh, no, you broke the bed all by yourself, sweetheart.”

“Because you took me to fucking fairyland!”

“I did what, now?”

“Oh, never mind, get off me, I need to get in the shower.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Hmpf. Or what?”

“Or I’ll lick you all the way back to fucking fairyland.”

Oh, yes, please…

Wait. NO! You do not have time for that.

“Please, my darling fiancé, will you let me get off this bed now?”

He grinned from ear to ear hearing you call him that for the first time, like you knew he would. Then he kissed you, slipped out of you, jumped off the bed and sprinted into the bathroom, giggling like a little kid.

“Don’t you dare steal that shower from me, Moreno!!”

“You’re welcome to join me, preciosa.”

“No! I am not gonna join you, you’re gonna get out and let me get ready.”

You’d scrambled out of the remnants of the bed and reached the bathroom by then, and sure enough, he already had the water going in there. It hadn’t warmed up yet, and as soon as you stepped over the threshold, he aimed the nozzle of the detachable showerhead at you, drenching your naked body in cold water. You didn’t scream, but you did lose your breath with the shock of the sensation. But thankfully, you’d done the Ice-Bucket challenge when it came around a few years earlier, so you recognised your reaction and quickly regained your senses. And when you got your breath back �� you were fuming. Your ghost hands found his waist, and you watched him go from amused to surprised to disbelieving, when, in pure frustration, you lifted him clean off of the floor and moved him out of the shower stall. You walked past him while he was still levitating and stepped into the now warm shower spray, before dropping him by the door. And since he was unprepared for the rough landing, he lost balance and fell over.

“Well, damn, famb… I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Apparently I can, so stop fucking with me and let me get ready for work.”

“Hey, to be fair – you’re the one that’s been fucking with me all night – I’m just returning the favour.”

“Okay. Let me rephrase that: stop being an asshole!”

“Only if you promise to let me bug you at work today.”

“What? No, that is the opposite of what I need right now.”

“Fine. Then I’ll just keep being a dick instead.”

“Oh my god, what has gotten into you today? You’re worse than a three-year-old.”

He didn’t answer, but you could hear him starting on his morning trimming, whistling a little while he worked and waited.

“Argh… Fine. You can bug me, but no more than once every two hours.”

“No deal.”

“Marcus…”

You sighed. This was just gonna be one of those days.”

“Okay, I yield. But – fair warning: I will use my powers to force you to stay in line, if I have to.”

“Understood.”

You half-ran into the kitchen 15 minutes later, to find Missy putting the finishing touches to a cup of tea, before handing it to you.

“Oh, you really are an Angel! Thank you so much, sweetie.”

“I figured you’d need an assist this morning after what I heard from your bedroom earlier.”

You froze, and your cheeks flushed when you remembered, not just the bed, but your own noisiness.

“I am so sorry… I was a little… out of control, this morning.”

“In a good way, or bad?”

“Hard to say, really.”

“But, you guys are okay, right?”

“Yeah. Physically…”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I’m not the only one having a weird day today.”

A minute later, Marcus bounced into the kitchen, and immediately stole the piece of toast you’d just finished for yourself and was in the process of carrying to the table. And without so much as a glance at you, he chewed down more than half of it in a single bite, while reaching for a cup to get himself some coffee. You stared at him with your mouth hanging open.

“Did you just steal food from me?”

“Excellent toast, love. Really good.”

With a surprisingly controlled burst, you shattered his cup, and then the entire coffeemaker. He just stared at the mess of coffee and broken china on the floor, and then he looked up at you, looking mockingly shocked.

“Great, now you have to get me a new coffeemaker.”

“Like hell I do. Get your own coffeemaker, ass-hat.”

“Okay, calm down, it was just a piece of toast.”

Glaring at him, you reached into one of the cabinets and pulled out a handful of supplement bars, chucking all but one into your handbag, and headed for the front door.

“Have a nice day, Missy.”

Marcus called after you.

“Hey, wait, what are you…”

“Marcus, I have seven weeks-worth of work to try and catch up on today, did you really think that this was the day to fuck with my breakfast? The one meal I might actually have had time for. I can’t deal with you and your weird mood right now, so I’m gonna drive myself to work and hope to god that no one decides to point out how fucking late I am on my first day back, because if they do – I might actually explode!”

You left the house and ripped the wrapper off the bar and started eating it on your way to the car.

You didn’t hear Missy and Marcus’ continued conversation as you set off for work.

“Dad, what’s wrong with you, she’s really stressed right now, why are you making it worse?”

“I’m just feeling mischievous today. Besides, if there’s one thing she needs when she’s stressed – it’s distractions.”

“Ooh… Was that what happened earlier too? Cause it sounded like you broke the bed, which seems a little extreme for a distraction.”

Marcus rubbed the back of his neck a little awkwardly. He couldn’t understand how you were so comfortable talking to Missy so openly about this stuff, or how you managed to actually talk to her about it, without really telling her any details.

“Uh… that was just, a bit of an overload. She seems to be in some sort of… hormonal state right now.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean like… animals get sometimes. You know… certain times of the year.”

“Almas in heat?! Humans can’t do that.”

“Normally, no. But we’re not exactly normal.”

“Speak for yourself, weirdo.”

“Hey!”

“I’ll race you to the car!”

She shouted the dare while she was getting up, and grabbing her bag, and as she headed for the door, Marcus shouted after her while he grabbed his things and tried to keep up with her.

“I can move the car, you know!”

“That’s cheating!”

“So is jumping the start line!”

“Hah, try and keep up, old man!”

You weren’t even settled into your office before Marcus appeared on your threshold. You’d had to make several stops on the way there, to talk to people and get updated on active projects, and as you stepped in, you realised that the woman that had filled in for you while you were gone was a total slob. She’d left fast-food wrappers everywhere, and the two wastebins in the office were beyond overfilled, there was at least as much junk around them as there was inside them. You’d just finished clearing all the crap into a large black garbage bag, when you heard him whistle.

“Someone’s about to get an earful, I hope.”

“More than one.”

“Oh, then I’m staying.”

He plopped down on the sofa, leaning back and making himself comfortable.

“I do love it when you pull out that nasty side that makes people quiver.”

“I’ll happily make you quiver.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. All the way through the floor.”

He chuckled, and burrowed himself deeper into the soft cushions.

“I might just sit here all day and just watch you.”

You talked to him a bit on autopilot, focusing more on trying to bring some kind of order to the giant pile of papers on your desk.

“No, you won’t. You have a mission today.”

“What? Since when?”

“Since Miracle accidentally killed a kitten belonging to the daughter of some rich-ass Sheik, whom of course demanded an apology, which Miracle obviously refused, causing a full-blown conflict that you’re now gonna have to solve.”

“I swear one of these days, I’m gonna accidentally send him into deep space on a ship without re-entry capacity.”

“Have a nice day, honey.”

He was on his feet and heading for the door when he shot back over his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’ll still find time to bug you, conflict be damned.”

You didn’t see him for a few hours after that, and you’d thought you’d feel relieved being able to focus on your work. But his absence turned out to be just as annoying as his presence. You found yourself constantly eyeing the door, hoping he’d pop his head in so you could ask him to relieve the burning ache that had begun to migrate from your core and into your thighs and even your back. It was getting to the point where you were seriously considering going online and purchasing a wand from a store that offered instant delivery, just so you could stick it in there while you were forced to sit, to give your god damned endlessly pulsing walls something to clench over. Just as you were about to give up and go find that instant-delivery page, there was a knock on the door. Marcus didn’t knock, so it wasn’t him.

“Come in.”

“Hey. You got a minute?”

It was William, your not-assistant, who still helped you whenever you asked, just because he was that kind of guy. He was a couple of years younger than you, and fit. The kind of fit that all guys wished they were. Not huge, not too noticeable, especially not under the immaculate suits he wore, but it was there. If you hugged him, you could trace the contours on his back. Not that you had. He was handsome, attractive, but so not your type. You’d never even considered it. And it was quite the testament to your physical compatibility with Marcus, that even now, when you felt like you could sit down on a fucking cactus, you still didn’t even consider it. It was Marcus you needed. Always. But right now, more than fucking air.

“Sure, Will, what’s on your mind.”

“You asked me to look into that toy-factory that burned down a couple years ago. Well I did, and it turns out that the owner abandoned the lease, so the property is actually unclaimed right now.”

You tried to listen, you really, really did, but your core chose that moment to decide that it just had enough. William was on the opposite side of the desk, but when you doubled over and laid your forehead down on top of it and groaned, he came around to check on you.

“Are you okay, what can I do?”

“Ma—Marcus… I need Marcus…aargh.”

You reached for your phone to call him, but your hands were shaking, and you dropped it on the floor, in front of your feet. Ever the helpful, William kneeled down to get it just as another loud groan escaped you, and of course – that was the moment that Marcus decided to step in. The look in his eyes when poor William appeared from under the desk, with you panting and groaning behind him, could have killed a man twice his size.

“I swear… I was just reaching for her phone! She wanted to call you, but she dropped it, I didn’t touch her! I would never… Mr. Moreno, I wouldn’t…”

“Get out.”

“Marcus… he didn’t…”

“I know. But he doesn’t get to stay for what happens next.”

William ran from the room, politely closing the door behind him, and Marcus locked it, before coming over to you.

“I would never…”

“Shh. I know, hermosa. Now let me take care of you.”

“Oh, please… I’m burning…”

He picked you up from the chair and helped you stand while he undressed you, and then he sat you down on the desk to do the same with himself. Then he grabbed your legs and hoisted them up over his hips while he positioned himself at your entrance. His tongue dove into your mouth at the same time that his cock began to dig through the thick pulsing membranes inside you. And it was such a relief. Your head fell back and your torso collapsed onto the top of the desk, as every cell in your body was suddenly right again. He held onto your hips as he worked his way inside, inch by inch, feeling you relax the further he got.

“What are you made of, mi amor? To be capable of such need, and such pleasure..”

Once he was filling you, he let go of your hips and leaned down to wrap his arms around you, knowing you needed to feel as much of him as possible, even if you were too lost in sensations to ask him right now. He moved with force, but not brutality, staying deep, letting you have exactly what he knew you needed, until you unravelled over him. But he managed to hold himself back, for the first time with you. And stayed still while you recovered, kissing you passionately and mumbling things in Spanish you’d never heard from him before. As soon as your breathing had calmed, he started moving again, and that was all it took. The heat rushed right back, and this time, it came with a fresh rush of energy, that had your legs curling around his back and your hands clawing at his shoulders, demanding more. And he obliged. You were so tightly clung to him, that when he stood up from the desk, he wouldn’t even have needed to keep holding you, but he did. He turned around and shoved your back against the wall, and his energy shifted, craving more too. He drove into you with more ferocity, but still somehow without that brutality that you’d felt from other lovers. His need was driven by love, more than physicality, and his body responded accordingly. It made you love him even more, if that was even possible. You were already closing in again, and he wanted to come with you this time, but he also wanted it to last longer. So, he shot a current at you, but you were so oversensitive that all it did was enhance everything you were already feeling by the double, and you screamed. You actually screamed out your orgasm while your body rocked relentlessly against him, and he did come with you, his hands digging into your hips as he tried to hold you to him while you squirmed with the force of your release.

“Hermosa?”

He was panting like he’d just run a sprint. And you were panting like you’d run a marathon.

“Yeah…”

“If this is gonna be a recurring thing… we’re gonna need to rethink our office furnishings.”

“And sound-proofing. Shit… I can already se the stack of complaints.”

“Fuck ‘em. You wanna scream, you scream. Let the whole damned world hear how good you feel.”

“I’m sorry honey, but I really hope this isn’t a recurring thing.”

“Why?”

“Because if it is… and you happen to be out of town when it hits… I might actually die. And I’m not even exaggerating. That was unbearable.”

“We’ll figure it out, either way. Do you feel better now?”

“Yes… and no.”

“No?”

Right on cue, the bear woke up.

“Yeah… what she said.”

He laughed and kissed you.

“God, I love you, woman. Bears and all.”

“Just get me to the restaurant. Greg and I have an arrangement.”

“Roger that.”

“Oh, and darling? Please apologise to William. You went full Cujo there for a moment, and I think you really scared him.”

“Cujo? You compare me to a damned dog?”

“Amaire can explain it to you. I’m too tired right now.”

“The Wonder-Twins call me Cujo, too?! What is this?”

“Marcus! Food. Now…”

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight @farfromjustordinary @allmyspideys @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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