#barely a soulmate au series | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

violentdelightsandviolentends · 8 months

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Honey Girl. Chapter Three.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky get closer. Your choice only gets harder.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au.

Word Count - 6.4k

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut. cursing. angst. alcohol consumption.

Author's Note - angels, i can only apologise for the wait!! i've had some stuff going on, and i was on vacation, so this has taken a while. thank you so much for your patience, kindness and support on Honey Girl - it means everything.

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3 please, send me your thoughts, predictions, desires!! i will get excited with you!!

Masterlist. Inbox.

The sunlight seeps through the stained glass windows, murmured chatter echoing off the stone walls around you.

You smooth down your dress and adjust your bracelet, smiling at the rare sight of your family and friends all gathered together in one place. Your parents are sat on either side of you, all of you eagerly awaiting the beginning of this exciting occasion.

Man, you love weddings. You always have. So much happiness and joy in one short day, everyone excited about the possibility of eternal love.

You're still sat waiting when you realise, with quiet uncertainty, that you're not sure whose wedding this is. All of your family is here, as well as many of your friends. So why do you feel so confused all of a sudden?

The Priest gestures for all of the guests to stand just as the first notes of the Wedding March begin to reverberate around the room. You turn around, craning your neck to try and get a glimpse of the bride.

You don't know her, but she's... beautiful. Long, dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders, white silk dress hugging her frame perfectly, accentuating every dip and curve. She has kind eyes, warm and brown, and a blinding smile that's infectious and dazzling. Her skin glows in the stained glass sunlight, illuminating her in an ethereal radiance. She has a beauty that belongs on the cover of a magazine, or on the ceilings of the Sistine Chapel.

You eagerly turn back towards the altar to find out who her lucky groom is. He has his back to you, dark suit stretched across his broad shoulders. He turns, and you can't help the gasp that escapes your lips.

It's Bucky.

You're panicking, suddenly. You want to scream, shout, run over to them and object in any way possible. Your Mom grabs your hand tightly from one side, as your Dad does the same on the other.

"Mama, I have to-"

"You can't, sweetheart. It's not fair."

"You made your choice," your Dad says kindly, not an ounce of malice in his voice. "Now you have to let him make his."

White hot tears drip down your cheeks as your chest rises and falls with frantic frustration. This isn't how you wanted things to go. This wasn't supposed to happen.

The lights in the church are suddenly too bright, the wooden pews too hard. There's an incessant knocking noise coming from somewhere in front of you, loud and overwhelming. You swear someone's shouting your name in the distance, among all of the chaos.

"Honey? It's Bucky. Are you okay?"

Why is he asking if you're okay? Of course you're not okay, you're in this living nightmare.

Nightmare.

You're having a nightmare.

You wake with a startled gasp, cheeks wet and warm, sweat dripping down your back. The knocking hasn't stopped, in fact, now it's even louder.

"Sugar? Are you in there? Can you let me in?"

It's Bucky. Bucky's here.

You throw yourself out of bed and race through your apartment, swinging open the door. Bucky is stood on the other side, still in his navy plaid pyjama pants, sweater thrown over himself haphazardly. You look down at yourself and see that you're only wearing an old t shirt, legs bare and feet cold on the wooden floor.

"Are you okay?" he asks gently, stepping forward into your space. "I had this horrible feeling. It was like... like I was panicking. I knew it wasn't me so I figured it must have been you. What's wrong, sweets?"

He snakes his fingers around your wrist and pulls you into him gently, wrapping his arms around you completely. You relax into his embrace, inhaling the warm, cosy scent of him. All the fear leaves your body, and you cling to him tighter, worried that he'll disappear any minute.

"I had a nightmare," you whisper into the soft cotton of his chest.

He pulls back to look at you, large, calloused hands cradling your tear stained cheeks.

"You wanna talk about it?"

You deliberate for a second before shaking your head softly.

"If you change your mind, you know I'll always listen to you. Any time. I mean it."

"I know," you say quietly. "Thank you."

You step away from him and towards the couch, where you curl up with your legs tucked underneath you. Bucky walks over to the kitchen, filling the kettle and placing it on the stove. He makes two mugs of tea, handing one into your outstretched hands carefully. He shuffles to sit next to you, pressed into your side, arm slung around your shoulders. You relax into the broadness of him, the comfort he brings, the safety. The two of you fall asleep intertwined, warm and content, wrapped completely in each other and the blanket of your love.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You're both startled awake by a phone ringing. The unwelcome melody is coming from somewhere between where you're nestled together, limbs intertwined and bodies connected.

"It's-fuck- is that mine or yours?" Bucky's mumbling as he scrambles amongst the couch cushions.

"Yours, I think," you reply, finding your phone on the floor where you've kicked it in your sleep.

Bucky finally finds the source of the noise, trapped in the arm of the couch. He presses the green button reluctantly, still disorientated from being woken so suddenly.

"Hello?"

That deep, raspy grumble of his morning voice is enough to make you melt back into your original position, the tone golden and honeyed. You slide back towards him and tuck yourself into his side, the two of you fitting together perfectly.

You can hear muffled talking on the other end, which takes Bucky a minute to comprehend. When he does, his eyes widen, and he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights.

It's your Dad, he mouths silently, muscles in his body going rigid.

Fuck, you mouth back, praying that he can't hear the two sets of heaving lungs on your side of the line.

"Yeah, of course. I'll be there. Sounds good, man. See you then."

Bucky's about to hang up the phone, when your Dad makes a noise of complaint. You can hear your Mom yelling something at him in the background.

"They're coming here," he whispers to you as quietly as possible, covering the phone speaker. "Fuck, what do we do?"

"Tell them you're already here... borrowing something. Or giving something back."

You shoot him a look that says trust me. Trust you, he does.

"I'm with her right now. I can ask, if you want? Yeah, just dropping off a couple of tools - last time I saw her, she mentioned a few loose screws in one of the kitchen cabinets. Easy fix."

You can hear your Dad singing his praises and expressing his gratitude, and your Mom asking Bucky to put you on the phone. He passes it to you carefully, as if it's a bomb, bound to explode at any given second.

"Hi, Mama."

"Hey, sweetheart. Bucky get everything sorted for you?"

"Oh, yeah. He's been great. Fixed it in two minutes flat. I just didn't have the right kind of screwdriver."

"He's one of the good ones, huh?" she chuckles. "We called to tell you that you have to come to our get together later. I know it's a little impromptu, but we have so much produce from the garden, too much for just us. We'll have dinner in the backyard, and drinks, and play some games. And we'll tell you all about the wedding!"

Your Mother has a gift for hosting. She's a people person through and through, warm hearted and kind spirited in nature. She loves having people over at the house, loves cooking for them, loves choosing wine pairings for her dishes and explaining each one carefully. It's a gift. She's a gift.

"I'd love to come, Mama. Do you want me to bring anything? I can make desserts?"

"Oh, darling, would you? I'm making a strawberry and cream tart, but you know it's nothing compared to your talent."

"Oh hush," you chide playfully. "I'll see what I can conjure up. Maybe I'll even rope Bucky in to help."

You wink at him cheekily and he laughs, the sound settling gently in your ribs like a caged bird singing it's morning song.

"Glad to be of service!" he yells into the phone, his right hand moving to rest at the nape of your neck. He massages the muscle there gently, and the tension leaves your body just as quick as it arrived.

"What time, Mama?"

"Everyone's arriving at seven o'clock, but you and Bucky feel free to come any time. Did you hear that, Bucky? Any time!"

"Loud and clear," he chuckles. "See you soon, Lori."

"Bye, you two. Call if you need anything. Love you, sweetheart."

"Love you too."

She hangs up the phone and you're plunged into silence, the two of you panting like you've just ran a marathon.

"Fuck," Bucky breathes.

"Yeah, fuck," you exhale. "Now my parents think I'm not capable of fixing a loose screw."

"It was the first thing I thought of! Sorry, honey. Didn't mean to undermine your DIY skills."

You fake angry, but you can't keep it up while he's looking at you like you hung the moon just for him. The corners of your lips twitch, and before you know it, you're grinning at each other like idiots.

"Now I have to make dessert," you laugh. "There go my plans for the day."

"You offered."

"I panicked!"

"I'll give you a hand, if you need it. I don't have to be at work for another hour and a half."

"It's okay," you reassure, reaching out to link your fingers with his. He's still absentmindedly tracing patterns across the back of your neck, the sensation almost soothing you back to sleep.

You relax into Bucky, and he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. He's so warm, and soft, and broad. You realise that there's been two occasions recently where you've slept like the dead. Both were in Bucky's arms.

"You wanna help me make breakfast?" you whisper, careful not to disrupt the golden glow of the morning sunlight. The orange hue of the room feels fragile, sacred even. You don't want to ruin it.

"Of course. I can't bake, but I can cook. I have my uses."

"That, you do," you tease, leaning back into him as he places a tender kiss on top of your head. If you could bottle up this feeling of complete tranquility, you would. For a moment, everything else disappears. It's just you and your soulmate. Nothing else matters.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Bucky, as it turns out, is a decent chef.

Sure, he's not Michelin star level, but neither are you.

You're sat on the counter, bare legs dangling over the side as you watch him move around your kitchen with ease, as if it's his own. You can't help but notice the way he belongs here. Like he's been here all along.

Bucky leaves everything cooking on the stove to come to stand in between your legs, warm hands splayed across your thighs. He rubs comforting circles into your skin while his steely blue eyes look at you intently.

"You okay?"

You smile at him softly, draping your arms around his neck to play with his hair.

"I'm fine."

You're not fine. The words California and Bakery and Dream Job and Bucky keep circling around your mind like horses on a fairground carousel. The more time you spend with Bucky, the more your Tethering makes sense. The two of you work. This connection you have is made of threads of gold, braided into both of your souls.

"You've been quiet all morning. And... I can feel it, you know. This anxious, sinking feeling, deep in my chest. There's something really bothering you, honey."

You take a deep breath and grasp onto his shoulders tightly, grounding yourself back down to Earth.

"I'm okay. There's just a couple of things I need to work out, and I think they're giving me some anxiety. I'm just stressed, I think."

"Are you trying to convince yourself, or me? Because you're not doing a very good job of either."

He's only teasing, but the way he's looking at you makes your breath hitch. It's as if everytime he looks into your eyes, he's also looking into your soul. It's like he can read your mind. Your heart is covered in braille and he's running his fingertips over it gently. You suddenly feel very exposed, shrinking down into yourself on the counter.

"Hey, pretty girl. Look at me. Please."

He uses his finger and thumb to tilt your face towards him, holding onto your chin gently.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to push you, or anything. I'm just worried. It's weird, being able to feel what you feel. I think I'm still getting used to it."

You smile at him carefully, running your fingers over the stubble on his cheeks.

"I appreciate you looking out for me, Buck. It's just... overwhelming, I guess. Nothing's a secret between me and you anymore."

You both know that's not true.

"You know, if there's anyone who understands how you feel... it's me."

"You're right," you laugh, "on account of the whole half-of-my-soul thing, I guess."

"Exactly. It's scary, but you're not alone in this. The two of us will figure it out. I know we will."

He has so much faith in you it makes you want to cry.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer to you. He leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, firm and reassuring. It's like he's reminding you that he's right here, in front of you. He's not going anywhere.

You might be, though.

"We've got all the time in the world, remember?" he murmurs against your mouth.

"All the time in the world," you echo, tucking your head into his chest.

He holds you close until your breakfast starts to burn. The impending fire on the stove is nothing compared to the impending fire that feels like your future.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The two of you eat on your balcony, tangled together on the love seat chair. The sun is beating down, beams of light illuminating Bucky, setting him aglow. He looks like an angel, the golden hue creating a halo around him. You wonder for a second if he is. An angel sent just for you.

"Oh hey, did I tell you?" he asks, turning as much as he can in his spot to face you.

"Tell me what?"

"Leonie and Eli are having a baby."

"No way!" you exclaim, grabbing a hold of his hands in excitement. "I'm so happy for them. Man, it feels like yesterday that they found each other."

"Right? Hell of a story, too."

"Rough one, though. I mean, imagine it. You introduce your brother to your new girlfriend, and turns out they're soulmates."

Bucky's laughing so hard that he's clutching at his stomach, shaking the chair and you along with it.

"That's fucked," he wheezes. "It's so fucked."

You can't contain your own laughter, not when his is so contagious.

"It's not funny," you breathe, but you're giggling so hard your sides hurt.

"Not funny at all," he chuckles, pinching your thigh.

"If you think about it, our Tethering is a little fucked up too. I mean, you're my Dad's best friend."

"Yeah... not ideal, huh?" he teases, still laughing.

"Not ideal at all, really," you agree playfully.

You sit in the quiet for a moment before you speak again.

"What do you think they'll say? When we tell them, eventually?"

Bucky thinks for a moment, cogs turning in his brain. He considers carefully before he answers you.

"...I think they'll be happy for us. Your Mom'll be excited. It might be a little harder for your Dad to navigate, I guess, but... he'll be okay."

"Yeah. You're probably right."

The rational part of your brain is telling you that he is. They'll be ecstatic that the two of you have found your person. The celebrations will be endless.

But there's a tiny, nagging piece of your mind that won't let you rest. It's taunting you, telling you that they're going to be confused, shocked, upset. That they won't accept the two of you. You can't lose them over a soulmate. You won't.

You clear your throat and stand from your spot, picking up your empty plates.

"Don't you have to be at work soon? I doubt you can show up in pajamas."

"I'm the boss, pretty girl. I can wear whatever the hell I want."

You raise an eyebrow at him, and he relents.

"Fine. I need to change. But I'll see you later? At your Mom's?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll see you there."

You walk Bucky to the door, opening it expectantly. He looks at you for a moment too long, still unconvinced by your reassurances from earlier.

"If you need anything, just call me. You know you can talk to me anytime, yeah?"

"Yeah," you confirm, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his t shirt. "I know, Buck. Thanks."

He leans in to kiss your forehead before leaving you in the doorway, more confused than ever.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You commit your day to baking your feelings away.

As soon as Bucky left your apartment, the space felt empty, incomplete. Much like you do. As much as you hate to admit it, you feel better when Bucky is around. You know it's the whole Tethering thing, but still. Your heart feels fuller, the world seems brighter, the sun on your skin is warmer. Everything's easier when your soulmate is next to you.

You click on the radio, a soft, jazzy melody filling your kitchen. You begin to measure your ingredients, picking up bowls, utensils and your piping bags as you go.

This is the only thing you've ever felt like you were made to do. Sure, you've had hobbies as you've grown up. You're a good swimmer, you enjoyed soccer, you weren't too bad at dance. But nothing compared to baking.

Which at first, sounded ridiculous. Grown ups would ask you what you wanted to be when you were older, and when you said Baker, they'd laugh in that patronising way that adults do. It didn't stop you, though.

Your Grandma bought you a half empty recipe book for your tenth birthday. You can create your own and add them, she'd said. You'll be publishing a book with your name on in no time.

Your parents took you on a European vacation when you were sixteen. In Amsterdam, you passed this tiny little bakery, tucked away down a back street. It was red brick with a big window in the front, showcasing the cakes and endless sweet treats they had to offer. When you peered through the glass, you watched as the woman who you assumed was the owner went about her day. She looked so happy to be serving her customers. You decided then and there that was going to be you one day. A Bakery of your own. A happy life.

Which is why you're having such a hard time. You haven't talked to Stella since she called you, and you're worried she's going to change her mind if she doesn't hear from you soon. You haven't talked to Bucky about it either, even though he presented you with opportunity after opportunity this morning. It's starting to feel like the walls are caving in.

So, you do what you do best. Bake.

The day passes by quicker than anticipated, lost in a cloud of cinnamon and powdered sugar. You're wiping down your counters when your phone rings, Bucky's name lighting up your screen.

"Hi, Buck."

"Hey, pretty baby. You want me to pick you up later? I'm passing your place anyway."

He's always thinking of you so selflessly. The thought makes your heart stutter for a moment.

"You sure you don't mind?"

"Course not. I can drop by at six? Gives us enough time to help your Mom set up."

"Sounds perfect. Thanks, Buck."

"See you then, honey."

You hang up the phone and realise the hours have completely escaped you. You jump in the shower and do your hair and makeup in record time, miraculously. You're stood in a towel in front of your closet when you feel Bucky pull up outside. The tension in your chest eases a little, and you take a deep, full breath. He knocks on the door, and you completely relax.

"Hey, you," he greets, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.

You take a step back to look at him, and almost lose your balance. He looks ridiculously handsome. He's wearing a dark short sleeve button up that hugs his biceps so tightly, you're worried it might burst open. His jeans cling to his thighs deliciously, and the leather jacket slung over his shoulder adds a ruggedness that most men couldn't pull off. Your eyes rake over him slowly, taking him in from top to bottom. He lets you devour him, smirk never leaving his lips. Eventually, you meet his gaze.

"You see something you like?"

"You clean up real nice, Barnes," you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

You untangle yourself from him before you jump his bones, and walk back to your closet. He follows you and sits on the edge of your bed, watching your every move like a hawk.

You pick out a sage green sundress that skims your thighs and hugs you in all the right places. It's a warm night, and your Mom loves to start a bonfire when it's cold.

"Close your eyes, playboy," you scold jokingly, laughing when he flops backwards to stare at your ceiling.

You slip the dress on, and realise it has a zipper at the back that you can't reach.

"Buck? Can you zip me up, please?"

He rises from his spot on the bed and strides over to you, standing a little closer than necessary. He pulls the zip upwards ever so slowly, fingertips brushing your spine as he goes. He's so warm and so broad behind you that it sends a shiver through your body.

Bucky brushes your hair to one side and leans down to press a featherlight kiss the place where your neck meets your shoulder. You hum in contentment, which only spurs him on. He begins to leave kisses wherever he pleases - your shoulder, your neck, behind your ear. You practically melt into him, and he wraps his arms around you to keep you steady.

"You look so beautiful," he murmurs against your skin. "Prettiest girl I've ever seen."

You smile at his words, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder.

"Says the man that looks like a goddamn supermodel."

"Oh, angel. Now you're just lying to me."

His chuckle rumbles through the both of you, the sound lighting up your nerve endings.

Your eyes flick across the room, where you notice the clock on the wall.

"Baby," you whisper. "You gotta stop. We're gonna be late."

He groans lowly and lets his head loll into the crease of your shoulder.

"I was fine until you called me baby," he murmurs. "Now that's all I'm gonna be thinking about for the rest of the night."

"Sorry."

"You're not."

"I'm not."

You both laugh and untangle yourselves, you moving to put on your shoes while Bucky straightens himself out.

"You gonna be able to keep your hands to yourself, lover boy?"

"I'm gonna have to," he grumbles, trying to hide the smile that's fighting to take over his face.

You lean against him as you do up the straps of your shoes, dancing your fingers down his arm to interlink your hands.

"Ready?" you ask, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

"Ready," he confirms, leaning down to kiss you chastely.

"A night of pretending that we're not soulmates. How hard can that be?"

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Pretending that Bucky isn't your soulmate is one of the hardest things you've ever done.

You haven't even made it inside yet.

Buck parks his truck in your parents driveway and turns to look at you. You've been silent the entire ride over, and it's making him anxious. He reaches over and places a warm palm on your bare thigh, thumb rubbing patterns back and forth.

"You okay?"

You take a deep breath, which is all the answer he needs.

"It's alright, baby. I'm nervous too. We've got this. We're alright."

You look into his eyes for the first time since you were in your apartment, and have to fight to stop yourself from crying. You nod and bite your lip, inhaling and exhaling carefully.

"You're okay. I promise. It's me and you, honey girl. It's me and you."

You want to crawl over into Bucky's lap and bury your face in his chest. You want to curl up in his strong arms and let his scent envelope you. You want to tangle your fingers into his hair and smash his lips to yours, until you don't know where you end and Bucky begins.

Instead, you bring his hand from your thigh to your lips, and kiss each of his knuckles tenderly. The gesture makes his heart beat so fast, he's a little worried he's about to pass out.

"Come and talk to me anytime tonight, okay? I've got you. I've always got you."

You nod again, and take another deep breath.

"I know, Buck. It's the only thing I'm sure of."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"My baby!"

Your Mom smothers you in a hug the minute you knock on the door, almost tipping you over in the process.

"Oh, you look so beautiful. This colour is gorgeous on you, sweetheart."

The heaviness of your heart gets a little lighter at the sight of your Mother. She's magic like that.

"Thanks Mama. Is your skirt new? It's pretty."

She gives you a twirl, the skirt billowing around her like a princess. Both you and Bucky smile when you catch each others eyes briefly.

"I got it on our trip! Your Dad got a new shirt too - he looks so handsome."

She's grinning from ear to ear talking about him. Your smile only gets wider.

Bucky gives your Mom a one armed hug, and hands her a white box with a bow on.

"I wish I could say this is from me, but I don't have nearly enough talent for that."

"You're plenty good at other things, Buck," she laughs. "What's in here, sweetheart?"

"Apple, carrot and cinnamon cake with cream cheese frosting. I piped little bunny rabbits on top, too."

Before she can say anything else, you take the box from her hands and walk into the house.

"We better put this in the refrigerator before the frosting melts!" you call as you leave.

"Come on Buck, let's get you a drink. Jack bought your favourite."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Your parents backyard looks incredible.

Golden fairylights adorn the deck, illuminating the dining area that your Mom has set up. The table is covered with a white lace tablecloth, and littered with tea lights and candlesticks. Each place setting has a wine and a water glass ready, fringed cushions perched on each wooden chair. There's a beautiful bouquet of flowers in a stained glass vase as the centerpiece, more flowers scattered across the entirety of the table.

The sun hasn't set yet, and the entire garden is dripping with the glowing orange hue of the evening. The air is warm and calm, salty ocean breeze only disrupting the peace occasionally. If summer were to be summed up in a night, it'd be this one.

Your Dad is pouring water into all of the glasses from an ornate painted jug when you walk into the yard.

"Hi, Papa."

"Oh, sweetheart!" he smiles in surprise, abandoning his task to come and give you a hug. "You look amazing. I like your dress."

"Thank you - hey, is this your new shirt? It suits you!"

"It's nice, right? Your Mom picked it out. She said the colour brings out my eyes."

You look him up and down comically, crossing your arms over your chest like a cartoon detective.

"Hmm... she's right. It definitely does."

You're both laughing when your Mom and Bucky join you, the two men immediately smacking each other on the back affectionately.

"Where you been, Buck? Work keeping you busy?"

"Stupidly busy - you wouldn't even believe."

"Well, it's your night off, so no shop talk!" your Mom encourages, handing Bucky a beer.

"Easier said than done," he winks, and your breathing picks up just a little.

"Mama, do you need help with anything in the kitchen?"

"Oh, yes please, sweetheart. Come, let me show you what needs doing."

The two of you leave the men to catch up, walking inside to prep the appetisers.

You're slicing tomatoes carefully when you turn to watch your Mom for a minute. She's chopping up basil, completely engrossed. The evening sun beams in, illuminating her as she stands by the window. You love her so much it makes you unsteady on your feet.

"Hey, Mama? Can I talk to you about something?"

She turns and immediately stops what she's doing, giving her full attention to you.

"Of course you can, baby. Anything at all."

You take a deep breath, and carry on slicing while you talk.

"So, you remember Stella, right?

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The night goes off without a hitch.

There's good food, gorgeous wine and even better company. Your parents invited many of their friends, meaning twelve of you are sat around the meticulously prepared table. In between courses, there's conversation, laughter and games, everyone letting go of the stress of the week.

You're doing everything you can to avoid looking at Bucky. You're worried that if someone catches the two of you, they'll know everything. You're surprised you haven't confessed already, the weight of the secret too heavy to bear.

Your Mom is cutting your cake on the table when there's a sudden commotion.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Shit! Shit, I'm sorry. Shit."

"Is everyone okay?" your Mom asks, flitting to the other end of the table.

"I'm so fucking clumsy, my God. Dropped my wine straight onto Bucky," Jesse, one of your Dad's oldest friends, explains.

"As long as it doesn't stain my white tablecloth, we're fine," your Mom laughs. "What do you need, Buck?"

"It's only white wine, luckily, so no stain. I'm just wet. I'm gonna go dry off."

"I have a hairdryer?" you offer without thinking.

"Good idea, honey. Go help Bucky upstairs while I get some paper towels."

You rise from your chair and make your way inside, heart racing as Bucky follows you. You rummage around the drawers of your childhood bedroom, certain you used to keep all of your hair tools here somewhere.

"You got it?" a warm, whiskey smooth voice asks from behind you.

"Got it," you reply, standing up with the hairdryer in your hand.

Bucky kicks the door closed behind him, and takes a step into you.

"I can't focus on anything when you're sat there in that dress," he murmurs. "Look like a fuckin' angel, all pretty under the lights."

Heat blooms over your chest, and you pray he doesn't notice. Your breathing quickens, and you step forward too, now chest to chest with him.

"I'm so worried that I'm going to accidentally blurt it out," you confess. "You're the only thing that's on my mind."

Bucky leans down to press his lips to yours, smiling into the kiss. You fist your hands into his shirt and pull him closer, snaking your tongue into his mouth. He tastes like mint and sugar and every kiss for the rest of your life.

He groans when you bite his lip, nipping yours back in retaliation.

"Easy, baby," he warns teasingly. "I can't go back down there black and blue."

You roll your eyes and kiss him harder, practically melting when he grabs at your ass roughly.

"What do you need, pretty girl?" he questions against your mouth. "I'll give you anything."

You're panting against him, vibrating with need.

"Need you to take the edge off," you whisper, hands shaking as you unbutton his wet shirt. "Can't carry on like this. Please, baby. Please."

"We've gotta be quick," he reminds, sneaking his hand under your dress to tease you over your underwear.

You grab at his shoulders for leverage, almost certain your knees aren't going to hold out long enough. Bucky doesn't even take your panties off, just slips his hand down the front. It feels filthier this way.

"Fuck," he groans. "This all for me, honey? You been thinking about this?"

"Yes," you whine. "All I've thought about."

Bucky wastes no time, slipping a finger into you easily. After a minute, he adds another, setting a steady rhythm immediately.

"Shit," you breathe, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his chest. "We're supposed to be taking it slow."

"You want me to go slow?"

"No, fuck," you say immediately. "Don't stop. Please."

He chuckles lowly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

"I won't, baby. Almost there."

It should be embarrassing, how quickly he can take you to the edge, but you don't care. This is what having a soulmate is. They know you better than anyone - inside and out.

"So close," you whisper.

"I know, pretty baby. I can feel it. Stay quiet and come for me. That's it."

You can't hold out when he uses that tone with you. You're thrown over the edge, your climax running through you like molten honey, hot and delicious. Your knees buckle, and Bucky uses a strong arm around your middle to hold you up.

"There we go," he's murmuring. "Atta girl. That's my girl."

You wrap your arms around his waist and breathe him in, finally coming back to your senses.

"My parents are gonna wonder where we are," you realise. "Grab your shirt and the hairdryer. You're gonna have to do it while I recover."

Bucky smiles at you with so much affection, the world stops spinning for a second. This is a moment of bliss. The two of you revel in it.

Bucky dries his shirt while you go back outside, trying to keep suspicion to a minimum.

"Fixed, sweetheart?" your Mom asks, holding out a piece of cake to you. You take it gratefully and sit back down, relaxing into your chair.

"Yeah, it's basically dry. That hairdryer is old, so it's taking a while."

"Well you didn't miss much, other than Jesse telling the Joshua Tree story for the fortieth time this month," your Dad laughs.

"You love that story, asshole!" Jesse yells, just as Bucky re-enters the garden. He throws you a mischievous smile, which you reciprocate with ease.

Everyone is a little more careful with their wine as the night goes on, keeping all the glasses planted firmly on the table.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"So then I said, well, if you don't like it, leave!"

You're pretty sure you've heard your Mom's friend Cora tell this story before, but you're all laughing like it's the first time. She has such an animated voice, you're convinced you could listen to her read the phone book.

"Which, I mean, I didn't think he would. Imagine breaking up over a chinchilla! A fucking chinchilla!"

You're laughing so hard your sides hurt. You look over to Bucky, and see that he's grinning like a Cheshire cat. You could get used to this.

"So I watched him pack his shit, box by box. Which took fucking ages, by the way. He was using those big plastic boxes, you know the black ones? And he was filling them so carefully and so slowly, that I started helping him!"

You wipe a tear from your face, still doubled over in amusement. You're gonna be sore tomorrow, the way your abs hurt now.

"But I didn't want him taking those boxes, because they're nice, right? They're expensive, and they're mine! So I helped him move out, and then unpacked all of his shit so I could have my boxes back."

Your Mom, despite hearing this story before, hasn't taken her eyes off Cora the entire time. She's such a careful listener. It's one of the things you love most about her.

"Oh, I'll drop them off for you, if you like!" Cora yells, staring directly at you. Everyone turns to look at you in confusion.

"Why would she need all your boxes?" Jesse laughs.

"For the big move!"

Time stands still. The world goes silent. Your heart stops beating.

"...What move?" Bucky asks, never taking his eyes off you.

"To California! Her dream job, falling in her lap. We're so proud of you, babygirl. You've worked so hard for this."

Cora's tearing up now, the alcohol catching up to her. She raises her glass high in the air.

"To our little superstar. The best baker the world has ever seen! Cheers!"

Everyone clinks their glasses together in the middle of the table, except for you and Bucky. You haven't taken your eyes off each other. The world carries on, but you stay still.

You suddenly feel a cacophony of emotions - sadness, anger, betrayal, hurt and confusion settling like ten tonne weights onto your chest. Then it hits you - you're feeling what Bucky feels.

You feel a heart break.

You're not sure if it's yours or his.

tag list part one -

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ladyartemesia · 9 months

Text

So this is really random but one of my drabble requests was for a Yoongi Soulmate scenario and I started writing it and I’m having so much fun SO I thought I’d give you guys a sneak peak! I’m hoping to have it up soon!

Roommate AU/Soulmate AU Preview • Yoongi

“Whatever you do, don’t mention soulmates.”

Kim Namjoon spent the last twenty minutes of your lunch break talking up his friend and trying to convince you to take him in as a roommate—

Only to make that weird comment and have you reconsidering your tentative acceptance.

“Okay…Is there a story to go with that cryptic declaration?”

Joon shook his head.

“I mean I don’t know if it’s my place—“

“Kim Namjoon, before I let some random man move into my place you’re gonna need to tell me why I can’t talk about soulmates. Everybody talks about soulmates. It’s what we do as a society. It’s like the weather—“

Joon snorted.

“Not Yoongi.”

“And the reason is?”

The two of you had a brief but intense staring contest.

“Alright fine—So… Yoongi was engaged.”

“To his soulmate?”

“No.”

“Oh…….Oh?”

Namjoon held up a finger—indicating that you should wait while he finished chewing his sandwich.

“He loved her—like a lot.”

“But they weren’t soulmates?”

“That didn’t matter to him. He said the whole system was stupid and didn’t mean anything.”

You chuckled.

“Bold words. I assume he had to eat them?”

Namjoon tilted his head in agreement.

“Yeah—he thought she was fine with it—the engagement was moving forward—and Yoongi was really happy….,”—he sighed and you unconsciously leaned in for the big reveal, —“until a soul mark popped up on her arm.”

Your mouth dropped open.

“What—noooo—she—she cheated on him?!”

There was only one way to get a soul mark.

Your soulmate had to see you without…clothes.

Like totally nude.

Fully naked.

Which meant Yoongi’s fiancé had gotten fully naked with somebody else.

No wonder he needed a place to stay.

Joon nodded.

“Seriously, don’t mention soulmates.”

• —— • ——— • —— • ——— • —— •——— •

As it turned out, you didn’t need to worry about mentioning soulmates to Yoongi—because the man barely spoke to you at all for the first three months you lived together.

Instead he communicated through a series of grunts, hums, and other assorted noises that you (surprisingly) became fluent in pretty quickly.

Once you even figured out that the milk carton was empty because Yoongi opened the fridge and sighed a certain way.

However, despite his aloof nature and interesting communicative habits, it was immediately clear why someone might be willing to throw over their hypothetical soulmate for him.

Min Yoongi was bloomin’ gorgeous.

And the few words you did hear him speak sounded like liquid sin on a cookie so—

Yeah.

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number1jeonginstan · 5 months

Note

can you write about an au where when ppl meet/see their s/o they instantly feel like they need to consummate their bond? and seungmin meets y/n? (its fine if not tho)

A/N: Thank you for your request and sorry for it taking so long :( I really hope you enjoyed it! While writing this, I started getting an idea of making this into a series, so one for each member meeting their soulmate and stuff. I thought it would be neat, but I don’t really know if you guys want that or not, if you do, please tell me! ALSO, I told you guys I will be back on that writing grind (I always keep my promises!!)

WC: 2.6k

Minors don't interact, 18+

Pairing: College Student!Seungmin x afab! Reader

Warnings: kinda public sex, but not, unprotected sex (are we surprised?), cumming inside of op even though it was their first time, idk what else to add…

The air was thick outside, a light drizzle was hitting the ground as Jeongin and Seungmin were eating their lunch.

“Did you guys fuck?” Seungmin asked bluntly, dipping another fry in the ketchup in front of him. “You know we have to as soon as we touch, it’s so embarrassing though” Jeongin groaned. “How is it embarrassing? She now knows what your dick looks like and you guys can live happily ever after!” he chuckled as Jeongin took a sip of his milkshake.

“Dude, I don’t understand why we have to have sex as soon as we see our soulmate, the world is a twisted place. Like hypothetically, what if the dude is a virgin and the girl isn’t, or the dude has a micro? Even worse if they are both virgins, like imagine losing it to someone you don’t even know and then having to spend your entire life with them”

Seungmin just nodded along as Jeongin continued to go on and on. “Like think about it if I didn’t have sex with them, I would have a painful ass boner until we are either 100 miles apart or until I fuck her, not to mention, I can only have sex with them for the rest of our lives and we barely know each other.”

“I think you are reading too much into it, was she at least nice?”

“Yeah” Jeongin scratched the back of his neck “she was super sweet, I’m actually going to her place after this for a movie date”

“Awww, Innie is finally getting play, even though it is forceful”

Jeongin just rolled his eyes, popping another fry in his mouth. “I better get going, I don’t want to be late”

Seungmin watched him get out of their shared booth, only to almost run into someone and apologize. Seungmin just chuckled, knowing how clumsy his friend was, only to look up and see you.

He knew you from a few classes, you were also taking photography, but he didn’t believe it was your major seeing as you were only taking the required classes with him.

Jeongin profusely began apologizing, telling you he really didn’t mean it, you just giggled, telling him that everything was okay and it wasn’t your fault. As you turned around, you spotted Seungmin, and you stopped and looked at him for a second.

“You are Seungmin from my photography class right?” Seungmin was confused, he didn’t think that you knew him, let alone knew his name. “Oh um, yeah Professor Lee right?” he asked, trying to make it seem like he didn’t know exactly who you were.

“Yeah, I just wanted to say I love your work. When you showed us your portfolio, I was genuinely blown away. Like seriously, the way you capture the essence of everything around you is breathtaking.”

Seungmin could feel his ears getting redder, blushing slightly at the way you described his photos. No one had ever admired them the way you were describing them at that moment. “Thank you so much” he stuttered slightly, still a bit embarrassed.

“That actually leads me to my question,” you said, picking at your nails slightly. “Oh? What’s your question?” He asked, placing his chin in the palm of his hands, trying to show to you that you had his full attention.

“I’m a Journalism major, and I’m trying to work on my photography so I can better capture the essence of what’s going on at that moment in time. That’s why I’m minoring in it, but I feel like I’m just not there. Like sure, I have the camera and everything, but I feel like I’m not conveying the feeling or emotions of the event like you do, so I was going to ask if you could help me?”

You rocked back and forth on your heels waiting for his response, and he simply nodded “Yeah, I would love to help you”

You grinned “Um, do you want to give me your number, or I can give you mine so we can figure out a time if that’s okay, or if you don’t want to give me yours we can always meet up after class” you continued to ramble on.

“Give me your phone, I’ll put in my number and just text me right now so I can make sure it went through”

You simply nodded, handing him your phone. He put in his number, sending a text from your phone to his.

“See, I got it,” he said, holding up his own phone. “Why don’t I text you when I’m free and we can coordinate from there!”

“Thank you so much Seungmin, like seriously, I really appreciate it!”

Just before he could reply, your friend that you were with called you over to your booth, causing you to wave him goodbye and run over to her.

“Who was that?” she asked you, looking over the menu in front of her.

“He’s this really cute dude from my photography class, he said he would help me so I can take better pictures” You grinned to yourself, you had finally got the boy's number you had been fawning over for the semester.

10:21 PM

Hey, it’s Seungmin Wait, you already know that You know what, ignore the first two texts And that one And that one Shit. Ummm I just wanted to say that I am free tomorrow at 2 pm if that works with you. If not, that’s totally fine, we can find another time Anyway, have a good night!

You giggled at the texts he had just sent you, something about him being flustered over text made you so happy.

Seungmin rolled around in anguish waiting for your text, he wanted to know your thoughts. Maybe you thought he was crazy sending all those texts and ghosted him or no longer wanted his help. He was about to give up and go to sleep until he got your text.

10:34 PM

Oh hey Seungmin! Yeah, I think 2 works for me! I’ll bring my camera and stuff, and I’ll text you a good location Also, text me your coffee order, I’ll bring you some

He felt like a schoolgirl with a crush. You were so cute, asking for his coffee order, he just wanted to pinch your cheeks, but that would be weird, right? You guys barely knew each other, he would just watch over you in class and that’s all.

It was the afternoon and you had set up your camera. You had found this abandoned field a few months ago while just walking around listening to music. You thought it was the perfect spot to practice taking pictures with more emotion.

You had placed a picnic blanket in the grass big enough to fit 4 people as well as a blanket since it was getting cooler and you didn’t know how long you guys would be there.

You were waiting for Seungmin, the ice in his Americano slowly melting, the condensation slowly making the cup wetter. When your phone finally showed 2:05, Seungmin showed up. While you were wearing jeans, a white blouse, and a sweater with apples all over it, he was dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt, and a flannel.

“Sorry I’m a little late, I was trying to find this place,” he said, placing his camera bag onto the blanket. He took a step back, fully looking around taking in the view. “How did you find this place? It’s secluded, but absolutely stunning”

“I was just walking around one day and stumbled over this spot”

You handed him his iced americano, and he took it from your hands graciously. “So, I was thinking that we should practice different emotions, but the same scene, so why don’t we do that?” He took a sip of his drink and then placed it back on the grass.

You simply nodded, getting your camera, and waiting for his instructions. He turned to you and pointed in front of him. It was just some dandelions, it was nothing special, but he went on to explain.

“Dandelions are one of the very few plants that can grow anywhere and everywhere. Some might see them as a weed, but others may see them as a beautiful flowers that can withstand thousands of weather conditions. Now, think about what you want it to look like as you take the picture”

You did as he said, trying to fully understand the flower in front of you. You took the picture with the intent you had in mind, and you did it. The flower looked bright and powerful compared to the grass that surrounded it.

“Seungmin I did it!” you jumped up and down, showing him the hug. Before he could react, you gave him a hug, trying to express your gratitude. As you pulled away, it was like a switch had flipped in you.

For some reason, you could feel yourself get wetter. It was something you had never felt before, it felt uncomfortable, and the only thing you could feel was lust. The same was for Seungmin, all he could feel himself get hard the second you touched him. It wasn’t even just a random hard-on, but it felt so painful like he had to cum that second or else he would die.

“Seungmin, do you also feel that way?” You asked, feeling a bit scared, but your entire body was tingling like there was no other sensation. You could feel your wetness slowly drip down your thighs and there was no stopping it. “Yeah, fuck, I think it does”

“Can I please?” he groaned, he couldn’t bear the feeling of not being next to you, on top of you, inside of you. It’s like he could smell your wetness and had to indulge himself in it or else he would die. “Wait, I don’t have a condom, I don’t think we should”

Before he could even continue speaking, you stopped him, shutting him up by kissing his lips. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I think I might just explode”

You continued to kiss him, taking off your own sweater and pants, leaving you just in your blouse and underwear as he took off his flannel and pants. “But, what if?”

You stopped him, “I’m clean and am on birth control, if you are clean too then what’s stopping us? The only way this sensation will stop is if we are a hundred miles away from each other and that will take hours, so please just fuck me”

He groaned, going back to attacking your lips. He laid you on the picnic blanket you had brought, thanking your prior self for bringing it. He moved down to your neck, to the curve of your breasts as he continued to kiss them, pulling down the strap of your bra and blouse in one tug to give him access to your breast.

He began to tease your nipple, pinching it with his finger as he began to bite marks on your neck, claiming you as his. “Seungmin please stop teasing, I need to feel you in me right now”

That was all he needed, he pulled his shirt off, throwing it somewhere in the distance as well as his boxers. His cock was long, slightly thick, with two veins at the underside of it. You could feel your mouth water as he began to smear the pre-cum leaking from his tip onto the rest of his throbbing cock.

“Fuck baby, look at what you did to me just with a hug” he groaned. “I could say the same for me,” you said, pulling down your underwear to show your soaked core.

He looked at your pussy in awe, you were so wet he could easily slip in with no prep. “Fuck, so wet just for me”

You just nodded, playing with your clit, trying to give yourself some sort of stimulation. “Please Minnie, need your cock so bad” you pleaded, your doe eyes looking up at him. Before he could even register what he was doing, he aligned the tip of his cock, with your hole, slowly putting his cock inside of you.

You moaned at the sensation, you had never felt so full in your life. Once he had fully sheathed his cock inside of you, he let out a long and sultry moan. “Fuck baby, this pussy is everything”

Before you could moan in response, he began to fuck you like there was no tomorrow. Your legs wrapped around him, wanting to feel him hit that spot inside of you. “Fuck baby, fuck Minnie you feel so good” you moaned.

He lifted your hips slightly, causing him to hit that one spot inside of you. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck” you babbled, feeling so close.

He could feel your walls tighten around his cock, he could tell you were close, so he brought his hand down to your clit, slowly circling it in tandem with his thrusts. That was all you needed to cum.

You came screaming his name, your legs wrapping tighter around him, not wanting him to stop thrusting into you. “Fuck baby, if you keep doing that, I’m going to cum inside, please let me go” he whined.

You didn’t budge, feeling slightly overstimulated, but that didn’t stop you from begging him to cum inside of you, to fill you with his cum. That was all he needed to reach his peak, his load shooting inside of you, causing you to cum once again, your walls milking him dry.

He slowly pulled out of you, covering you with the blanket you had brought and wrapping his arms around you.

You were both covered by the second blanket you had brought. You were thankful for it, it was shielding the both of you from the cool air that would be nipping your skin if you didn’t.

“Who would have thought the dude I was looking at all of class for the past semester was actually my soulmate?” You said out loud, your head buried into his chest.

He cocked his head slightly to look at you. “What do you mean, I was looking at you in class all the time, I never saw you looking at me?”

You turned your head up to look at him “So we are both idiots who could have done this earlier if we actually talked to one another?” You asked, giggling a bit about how stupid the two of you were.

“Yeah, I guess so” he chuckled back, placing a kiss on your head. “Shit, my friends are going to tease me relentlessly for this, fucking my soulmate in the middle of a field” He groaned out loud.

“You guys tell each other when you meet your soulmate?” you asked, a bit confused

“Yeah, we have a group chat, Jeongin was the first to find his and now I’m second, I wonder how the rest of them are going to find theirs”

“You should invite me to them,” you said, kissing his lips once again.

“Baby, if I didn’t they would have kidnapped you and introduced themselves to you”

You just laughed, running your fingers along his face. “Now that we have gotten over the whole “need to fuck like bunnies” how about we do this again?”

Before Seungmin could even realize what you meant, you slowly moved on top of him, slipping his already-hardened cock into your soaking pussy.

“Fuck baby, I’m always ready for round two,” He said, groaning at the way your walls clenched his cock, you were made for him.

#stray kids #skz #straykids x reader #skz smut #ju <3 answers #straykids smut #ju <3 writes #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #seungmin #seungmin skz #seungmin x reader smut #seungmin x reader #seungmin smut #ju's <3 anons

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wooahaes · 26 days

Text

a spark of realization

pairing: non-idol!hoshi x gn!reader

prompt: soulmate au series. 13/13

word count: 5.0k~

warnings: some food mentions. some angst. coworkers au. platonic love between soonyoung and his friends <3 some alcohol mentions (all regarding soonyoung drinking, no real mentions of reader actually drinking). mentions of static shocks throughout.

daisy’s notes: soonyoung looks at all of his friends and goes 'i love u all so much' and im like god same me when i look at my friends

summary: Unlike Jihoon and every other friend that swore they didn’t have one, Soonyoung knows he doesn’t have a soulmate. He’s tried plenty of the subtle soulmate things. He doesn’t feel anyone’s pain or emotions, he doesn’t taste anything weird, and he’s dyed his hair enough times to know that he most likely doesn’t have someone out there. Yet the static that makes his hair stand on end sometimes just causes him to think that maybe there’s something else to expect…

Kwon Soonyoung was positive about one thing in his life: he did not have a soulmate. Never showed any signs when he was ten onward, and he never would. Sure, it hurt to hear when he was ten—he was ten and stuck into this category of “without” regardless of how he felt about having a soulmate, that was sure to make anyone upset—but he’d figured things out for himself while growing up. Some people hated their soulmates. Other people loved them, sure, like… every single one of his friends now, but that was beside the point. Soonyoung had decided several things for himself.

One: he didn’t need a soulmate to be happy and fulfilled. Plenty of people didn’t end up with their soulmates. Plenty of people didn’t have a romantic relationship with their soulmates, but stayed in touch. Some people didn’t even want their soulmates at all, either. Therefore: no one needed a soulmate to be a complete person. He was just fine on his own. (This was something his parents taught him from an early age.)

Two: Soonyoung did have soulmates, actually. Twelve of them. His twelve closest friends were his soulmates, platonically, and they’d all chosen each other in life. But if he had to pick one, then it was easily Jihoon. The two had known each other the longest now, and Soonyoung had told him one night that if neither of them had soulmates, then they were platonic soulmates. And even after Jihoon found his soulmate, Soonyoung still believed in it. The two of them just fit together in a way that was right.

“Really?” Jihoon had been half-asleep on the couch that night, tired from both work work and music work. He and Joshua had to re-record the song they’d been working on… again. Soonyoung could admire how dedicated Jihoon was to having a perfect product, though. “That’s sappy.”

Soonyoung had giggled, admittedly very much not sober. “No, no, I mean it! We’re soulmates, I think.” Another burst of giggles as he reached toward Jihoon’s hand. “I know you have one now, but…”

Jihoon gently patted his cheek. “No, you’re right. We’re soulmates, too.” He shut his eyes, about to nod off again. “Soonyoung…” He yawned, turning onto his side. His dark eyes found Soonyoung’s a moment later, only barely open. “I don’t want to give you false hope, but… Have you ever looked into it?”

Soonyoung leaned against him. Of course he had. Hadn’t most people who did, deep down, want a soulmate? Well, maybe except Vernon. Vernon did his own thing most of the time. “I don’t wanna.”

“You don’t have to,” Jihoon said, understanding as always. “But…”

“Hm?”

“It’s hard to live in a world where I would have one and you wouldn’t.” Jihoon’s voice was heavy with sleep, and his eyelids fluttered shut again a moment later. “That’s all.”

“Why not?” Soonyoung stifled a yawn. “You’re cool. You make music. Plenty of people would love that. You can write your soulmate love songs now.”

It earned a quiet chuckle from Jihoon. “Just…” He trailed off. “I was okay with not having one because love is… different. Like what Wonwoo says about it. It’s a choice and something you make. But you…”

Soonyoung blinked curiously at him. He…?

“Anyone would love you,” he mumbled, clearly beginning to doze off now. “I just don’t understand how it could be me and not you.”

Soonyoung had decided to love Jihoon extra from that point on. Jihoon’s soulmate did the same, and everyone else truly adored Jihoon, but Soonyoung understood. Jihoon never saw himself as the leading man in any situation. He wasn’t sure if that extended to believing he wasn’t anyone’s first choice (he was always Soonyoung’s, if that meant anything), but Soonyoung didn’t need to know. He just knew that he would always hype up Jihoon as much as he could. Everyone did, to be fair, but Soonyoung was happy to be a louder voice among the crowd. He would always be there to stream his songs when they were released and share them on every account he had, even if that sometimes required Seungcheol or Wonwoo helping him not break the link in the process.

But he’d never let go of that thought. How could it be me and not you? As if Jihoon deserved a soulmate less than Soonyoung did. Soonyoung had his moments of yearning, the same way that Seokmin often did, but he wouldn’t trade places with any of his friends. Their soulmates meant something to them. Soonyoung had seen the way Seungkwan doted on his soulmate day in and day out, and he’d quietly apologized to him once for the times he’d made inappropriate jokes.

“What, those?” Seungkwan hadn’t seemed bothered in the slightest. “You were trying to make light of things so I wouldn’t worry.” He crossed his arms. “They hurt in those moments, but I can’t blame you for trying.”

How did Soonyoung get so lucky? Was this what the universe granted him in exchange for lacking a soulmate…? He wasn’t sure, but he wouldn’t trade any of his friends for a soulmate. He’d happily make do with the twelve he’d forged any day.

Okay, so maybe Soonyoung was getting in his head a little. Seokmin had just spent a little over two weeks in a time loop because, surprise, he also had a soulmate. Which sent Soonyoung down a small spiral. According to some study out there that still needed more information to be more valid or whatever, a good portion of people who were told they didn’t have soulmates when they were ten were people who didn’t have obvious signs. Time loops, hair colors matching, lost items, sparks flying, colored footprints leading to the other person… All things that people simply wouldn’t have seen at age ten.

So maybe Soonyoung started to dye his hair after Jihoon found his soulmate. It wasn’t abnormal, Soonyoung did like to play with his hair. It’d been a while since he’d gone bleach blonde. And maybe his soulmate didn’t care and that was why he stayed bleach blonde until his roots started to show. And maybe his soulmate didn’t care that their hair was cherry red not long after that…

And, maybe, Soonyoung was acutely aware of the date after Seokmin broke his loop. Each day followed one another as they always did, but Soonyoung swore a Tuesday felt just like a Monday once.

And maybe, just maybe, Soonyoung lost a bracelet with his name on it. Joshua made him another one, no question, but he hadn’t found anything that didn’t belong to him (or Jihoon) in his living space. Everything was in its proper spot, just as it was supposed to be. Nothing new.

No footprints stood out to him, and he hadn’t bumped into anyone lately that made him feel those mystical sparks that Jun once told him about.

Kwon Soonyoung did not need a soulmate to be happy… So why did he want one so badly?

“I don’t need one,” was what he blubbered to Seungcheol one night, a week after Seokmin broke his time loop. “I don’t. I shouldn’t act like I need one to be happy because I am happy. I’ve been happy before, so—”

“It’s okay.” Seungcheol had held him as he cried. “Soonyoung, it’s normal for people to want them just as much as it’s normal for people to not. If you want a soulmate, it’s okay.”

How was he supposed to say that now it was starting to hurt? That all twelve of the soulmates he chose in life had their own soulmates, even the ones who were convinced they didn’t?

“Work is still bad,” Soonyoung said suddenly, still crying into Seungcheol’s shoulder. The words just seemed to dribble from his mouth now, no true thoughts behind them. “Two of the new hires took off because they found out they were soulmates and—and they wanted to get busy living life while they could. And now all of us are staying every night because we have to make up their work, and—”

He just kept babbling, sobbing as everything seemed to spill out of him. Seungcheol just held him, rubbing circles into his back to soothe him. Soon enough, all the words had dried up, and Soonyoung was just left, breathing quietly as he came back down. His head felt foggier than before. Lighter, though.

“You’ll be okay,” Seungcheol promised him when Soonyoung finally moved away to wipe his face. “I’ll buy you dinner when you work next, okay?”

“I feel guilty,” Soonyoung said a moment later. With less thoughts to weigh him down, his feelings seemed to become more obvious.

Seungcheol had chuckled. “You shouldn’t. I’m offering—”

“Not that.” Soonyoung let out a long sigh, tugging his sleeves down over his hands for a moment. When did he start feeling so cold? “I… I love all of you. You’re all some of my best friends. I meant it when I said I consider you all soulmates. I feel like I should be happy that we all met in this life, but…”

“We can’t fill that void,” Seungcheol said. He turned to face Soonyoung fully, arm draped over the back of the couch. “Soonyoung. I love you, but you aren’t my soulmate. There’s things I want to do with them now that I know them that I wouldn’t want to do with anyone else. I can’t call it love because I haven’t known them long enough, but… You do understand, right?”

Of course he understood. Soonyoung had dated before, after all. “I know, but—”

“None of us want you to feel left out,” he said. “If you want to date, then you should try dating again when things have calmed down.” He paused, “Or now, but I think the stress from work is getting to you too much.” Again, Seungcheol paused, mulling over his thoughts as though he needed to get them right the first time he spoke them aloud. “Soonyoung. Do you remember what you told all of us when you said we were your soulmates?”

Soonyoung had been… a little drunk that night. Most of them were. But Soonyoung had seen the videos that were taken by his friends of his drunken rambling, and he’d said a lot. “Which part?”

“The universe picked soulmates for a lot of us,” Seungcheol said, “but we still have to choose them. And you decided you would choose us.”

It was the easiest decision Soonyoung had ever made, and one that admittedly made him and a few others cry. He’d been right, though, hadn’t he? A soulmate was a person that the universe felt was perfect for you, but plenty of soulmates didn’t last. It was almost always the people who believed that just being soulmates was enough to have a lasting relationship. Soonyoung had seen people who finally reached their breaking point and ended things, always crying later because that was their soulmate. Almost always, their stories were similar to the others: they weren’t trying. It was supposed to come naturally to them. But a soulmate wasn’t a guarantee for love. All relationships, platonic or romantic or familial, needed work put into them. That was why Soonyoung knew that a soulmate represented a choice. One that the universe made for a person, but a choice that a person had to keep choosing if they wanted to make things work. That was how love worked, after all. Soonyoung had been in love before, and he had chosen that person until they couldn’t choose each other anymore.

And he knew that it went the same for those with soulmates. Seungkwan had been with his soulmate for over a year now, and plenty of people could count the petty disagreements the two had had. They always came back together after they cooled off, talking things out like adults (sometimes with a little intervention from Chan or Vernon, but those moments were rare). Minghao and his soulmate had an actual argument not too long ago, but they’d bounced back and been stronger than before for it. Even Jeonghan, who had loved his soulmate almost his entire life, had an unfortunate spat that lasted a few days before he reached out to them and asked to reconcile. Love was a choice as much as it was a feeling. It was what brought them all back together again. A soulmate wasn’t the end-all be-all of love, but Soonyoung had realized why they all fit so well together. They all shared some sort of experience in some way, whether it be a string to connect them or losing objects. It was something to bond over, to open up the doors to choosing one another once that decision was clear.

“Someone is going to choose you some day,” Seungcheol said, completely serious. “And they’ll be lucky if you choose them, too.”

Soonyoung wiped at his eyes with his sleeve again, the fabric scratchy against his skin. Minghao would be chastising him now for it, pulling tissues out of his pocket or his bag depending on where he’d decided to keep them that day. That, too, was Minghao choosing to love his friend. “I love you,” he said softly. Thank you for choosing to be in my life. He wasn’t sure where he’d be without him.

Seungcheol chuckled, warm as ever. “I love you, too,” he said back, always as though it were the easiest thing in the world. Maybe, for Seungcheol, it was.

A week later, work was a little kinder to him. His coworkers gossiped about some new hires coming into the company, and Soonyoung, truly, couldn’t care less. As long as they did their jobs and didn’t run off immediately to see the world or whatever those two were doing, he was happy. He’d given a polite nod to the new hires as they were introduced, and ignored the way the hairs on the back of his hand were standing on end. He’d charged himself with too much static upon coming in, dragging his feet as he tried to subtly push his sock back up after it had rolled down. He’d managed to discharge the static eventually, although the slight zap from the metal he touched had made him hiss in pain. It felt like a little too much, but what did he know? He had other things to worry about, like the backlog of work that still stood out to him. It’d take a few days for things to calm down for good. And, sure, the polite thing to do would be to get drinks with his coworkers… But no one was inviting anyone anywhere. Not when there was too much work during the day and everyone was exhausted by the time they all clocked out.

“So? What do you think?” One of his coworkers had whispered to another after the new hires (a pair of people around Soonyoung’s age) had left ahead of them, having packed up quickly to catch their buses home.

Soonyoung packed up a little slower. Maybe it was wrong to listen in, but…

“Hm…” The woman hummed to herself for a moment, shifting her weight from leg to leg. “I’m not sure yet. Sungyoon seems to work hard, but the other person…” She frowned, crossing her arms as she grew still. “They’re very quiet. Like…”

Soonyoung knew that she had just glanced at him. He’d always been the quiet one at work, the polite one who worked hard. That’s what you were like, from what he understood, too. You came in, you put yourself to work, and then politely excused yourself when you needed to run to get to your bus. Sungyoon had gone with you, not keeping it secret from anyone that the two of you were at least friends. Speaking of…

“Do you think they’re dating?” She whispered to the other.

Soonyoung hoped you weren’t. You were… actually kinda cute? Plus he admired your work ethic a lot, even on your first day. Maybe when things calmed down, he could ask you out to coffee or something.

“I didn’t see any marks,” the other man said, not bothering to lower his voice any further. “They could be soulmates. They clearly have a history…”

Soonyoung packed his bag and took off. He’d had enough of this. The journey home was uneventful, but Jihoon had picked up on how disgruntled Soonyoung was from the moment he walked in the door. Halfway through his vent session, Jihoon had looked at him.

“Why are you jealous? You just met them.”

Jealous? Soonyoung was not jealous of anyone. He choked on his own words, unsure of what he could say that was actually convincing. If he denied it, then Jihoon would only believe that he was bullshitting him to try and save face. Yes, you were cute in Soonyoung’s eyes, but he’d only just met you! He’d be a weirdo if he was jealous this quickly! And you wouldn’t want anything to do with him if he was weird.

“I’m not jealous,” Soonyoung said once he was sure he could say it casually. “I just find it weird that my coworkers care so much. They’re doing a good job.” He paused for a second, “both of them are! Sungyoon is very nice.”

Jihoon was not convinced. Nothing could convince him now, then. “Mhm.” He shrugged. “Nothing wrong with being a little jealous if they’re clearly close. Just don’t let it bother you.”

“I’m not!” Soonyoung felt his face heating up. He wasn’t. He wasn’t bothered in the slightest. It was more-so his coworkers being weird about it. It was weird to speculate, wasn’t it? If you had a soulmate, then good for you. If you didn’t, then…

Then maybe Soonyoung had a shot.

“A soulmate?” You had looked up, the same man who’d speculated about you and Sungyoon being soulmates having shoved his nose into your business. You blinked, unsure of where this topic had even come from. “No, I don’t have one. I don’t think I do, at least. Is this a part of company business? I told H.R. after I was hired that I don’t have any signs that would prevent me from working, but I didn’t know everyone needed to know this.”

Soonyoung smiled to himself. Yeah, you tell him. It was your business anyway.

“But what about you and Sungyoon—”

“College friends.” You smiled politely. “We live close to one another, too. I’m not seeing anyone now. Is that all?”

Sungyoon sat at his desk, watching you with this amused twinkle in his eyes. Sungyoon had the same kind of admiration for you that Soonyoung had for his friends, he was positive. He watched the way his coworker slinked off after a moment, apologizing for prying into your personal life as you returned to work. Soonyoung reached down to pull something from a desk drawer, only to feel a familiar zap the moment he did. He’d winced in pain, but it did nothing to dampen his mood. When Soonyoung relayed later the information to his friends at dinner that night, Wonwoo had watched him the entire time, all too aware of how thrilled Soonyoung seemed to be about the whole ordeal.

“Why do you seem so happy?”

Was he happy? He was, kind of. Without being disrespectful, you’d rebuffed the guy and kept most of your privacy in doing so. There were no long drawn out college stories about some adventure you and Sungyoon had while in college, no emotional moments of spilling about how you resented the fact you didn’t have a soulmate. Hell, Soonyoung had no idea how you felt about it. Were you indifferent like him? Did you have a similar situation to him, too, where you had chosen your own soulmates out of your friends?

“They were being disrespected,” Soonyoung had settled on saying. “I’m glad they handled the situation well—”

“He likes them and wants to ask them out,” Jihoon said after taking a sip of his water. “So he’s glad they’re single.”

Soonyoung shoved Jihoon slightly. “That’s not it at all!”

Jun chuckled from his seat, watching the exchange. “There’s nothing wrong with liking them, you know.”

“There isn’t, but I don’t like them like that. I barely know them. We’ve barely even talked.” Soonyoung rolled his eyes. “How can I like someone I don’t know yet?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “I liked my soulmate before I really knew them. They seemed interesting.”

“That’s different!”

“Is it?” Jun shrugged. “I haven’t known my soulmate for long, but I still liked them before we started talking. They seemed nice. You can have a good opinion of someone without knowing them intimately—”

“That’s not the point,” Soonyoung said. “You’re all trying to turn this into something it’s not. I just… I dunno. When I see them, I want to know them more. It’s like they just keep pulling my attention toward them.” He paused, chopsticks in hand as he looked up. “They keep looking at me, actually. It’s kinda funny. I think they might be into me, actually.”

Suddenly, all three of his friends exchanged a look. Soonyoung furrowed his brows. “What?”

And none of them would tell him their thoughts. When he pushed further later as they were leaving the restaurant, Jihoon just waved him off.

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Shit!”

Soonyoung looked up at the sound of your voice, soft enough that it didn’t catch everyone’s attention. Sungyoon withheld a chuckle as you glared at him a moment later, and Soonyoung couldn’t help but keep his eyes on the pair of you. You’d wrung out your hand, reaching for your desk drawer as you started to search through it for a highlighter. Soonyoung liked the fact that you always highlighted things in pretty colors—bright green so far, but he overheard you telling another coworker, Seungmin, that you liked to switch out colors every so often. It kept things fresh, and Soonyoung found that cute. Almost as cute as the novelty erasers that you kept on your desk to decorate it, never using them since you always used pens (save for the pencil you kept exclusively for the sticky notes you attached to your computer monitor).

“It’s not funny,” you had hissed back at him. “This place has a bad static problem… Is the air dry to you? I think dry air makes static build-up likelier.”

“It’s just you.” Sungyoon watched you curiously, glancing over to see that Soonyoung had started watching, too.

Soonyoung watched the way he slowly reached for a pad of sticky notes, jotting something out. Then he reached forward, attaching it to the top of your monitor. You swatted his hand away, eyes flickering over to see Soonyoung just as he turned his attention back to his own work. Yet the moment he was sure you were looking away, Soonyoung glanced over to see you pulling the sticky note off the monitor. How had he avoided you this long…? Something about getting too close to you made his chest all fluttery. Had he really started crushing on you so easily? Then again, you kinda did make it easy. You were cute in your own ways, and it made it hard to focus most days. Now all he could think about was what Sungyoon had written to you.

He’d stretched himself over Vernon’s couch that night, playing with a little feather toy that his soulmate’s cat (Nutmeg, apparently) seemed to love. She pounced at it again, and Soonyoung had, yet again, been rambling about his work adventures.

Vernon plucked another fry from Soonyoung’s leftovers. “Dude. Kinda sounds like there’s something there.”

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung said. “Maybe I’m being silly. I should ask them out sometime, but they’re still new. It feels weird to do it so soon.” He paused, watching as Vernon slowly began to reach for another fry. “If you’re hungry, then eat. I’m fine.”

With permission, Vernon immediately pulled over the rest of the leftover fries. “I mean it, dude. Why wait? You like them, they seem to like you, just go for it.”

… Maybe he would.

But probably not today. Soonyoung had woken up late which, thankfully, wasn’t too bad considering he didn’t live too far from work. Jihoon had been in the kitchen, sliding over a plate of toast when Soonyoung booked it from the room.

“You have that meeting—”

“I know!” Soonyoung grabbed two slices. He’d shove them into his mouth on the run over. “I know—I set an alarm!”

Jihoon looked up, already annoyed, “I know. It woke me up.”

He’d make it up to him later. He yelled back a casual “love you!” to Jihoon, who only groaned in response, and booked it to the stairs. No elevator today: the complex’s elevator sucked most days, and Soonyoung always reserved it for when he was coming home rather than heading to work. He’d pulled on the wrong pair of shoes considering he had a meeting today. He needed to look nice, and he did, mostly. These were the ones that were a little too broken in, having lost traction against the office floors, and they’d lost their shine a bit. Maybe no one would notice? Hopefully no one would notice. He didn’t need anyone making a comment… or you to think less of him. Were you the kind of person who cared about that kind of thing? He hoped not. As long as you were presentable, Soonyoung wouldn’t think any differently of you.

He burst through the front doors of the building, yelling out to where you and Sungyoon had just boarded the elevators. He saw the way the two of you looked surprised, eyes wide and brows raised as Soonyoung booked it across the lobby while no one else seemed to think much of it. It was far from the first time this had happened, to be fair: it happened back when he was new, and it kept happening every so often since. Soonyoung, unfortunately for everyone else, was the kind of person who could be loud when he needed to be. Which was good for him, because Sungyoon had taken pity on him and held the elevator doors for him. Soonyoung’s hair was standing on end now. Fuck, when did the building have such a bad problem with dry air?

Shit, fuck, the floors were against him today. In the split few seconds he had, he’d tried to yell for you to move aside so he could crash against the elevator walls, yet his brain seemed to have turned to pudding. He felt this subtle pull forward, which he once thought was gravity as he nearly tripped over the elevator threshold and into you.

Only for sparks to fly. Literally fly. Sungyoon had crumpled to the floor in pain, howling about ‘what the fuck was that?!’ while Soonyoung only felt this warmth wash over him. You’d been shoved against the elevator wall and were clutching the back of your head (shit, fuck, he’d check on you once his brain caught up to him). Wait.

Wait. Sparks flew.

You…?

“Dude, what the fuck?” You’d pushed him away, hand still clutching the back of your head.

Immediately, his brain had finally started fully functioning again. “Shit!” He stepped forward, trying to get a closer look at the back of your skull. No bleeding or visible bruising, but what did he know? “Are you okay? Did you get hurt? I’m sorry, I tried to stop, but—”

“What the fuck was that?!” Sungyoon was still on the elevator floor. The doors slid shut after a moment.

Quietly, Soonyoung hit the button for the correct floor, just to get things moving. “I… I, uh…”

You stared at him, slowly connecting the dots. “Oh.”

“Did… Did it hurt you?” Soonyoung shyly asked, only to realize he’d been vague. “The sparks.”

You shook your head. “No. But—” You looked at Sungyoon. “Sungyoon, are you okay?”

“I’ll live,” he pulled himself back up. “Of course he’s your soulmate. No wonder you two wouldn’t stop staring at each other…”

Soonyoung had felt a pull toward you, but… He always thought that was infatuation fueling that feeling. There were so many things he’d already wanted to ask you, and yet it felt… weird to say them with Sungyoon there. Were you like him? Had you given up on soulmates even though you wanted one? Or did you not care that Soonyoung was your soulmate? Would you have still liked him if he wasn’t…? He felt like he would have liked you either way, but he would never know for sure now. Then again, maybe he could be okay with not having that answer. If he got to know you better, then he could be happy. Neither of you spoke for the ride up, and he could see Sungyoon debating stopping this elevator ride early to give the two of you space.

Thankfully, he didn’t. But he did book it off the elevator once the doors opened, leaving the two of you two step off together.

“So…” You were a little quieter than normal, never quite looking at Soonyoung for too long. “We’re soulmates.”

He nodded. “Is that okay?”

That earned your attention faster than anything else. “Of course that’s okay. Why wouldn’t that be okay?”

“I just thought that…” You didn’t seem happy. Then again, he barely knew you.

You shook your head. “Just because I’m used to not having a soulmate doesn’t mean I’m not happy it’s you. I already thought you were cute, so…”

Soonyoung shyly smiled at you, hand brushing against your own. It was enough to get you to stop and face him. “I know we have a meeting soon, but… There’s a little place across the street we could go for lunch. It’ll be my treat, if you want—”

“I’d love to,” you smiled. “I’ll look forward to it, soulmate.”

Soonyoung watched you walk ahead of him, smiling to yourself. Suddenly, he felt a new sense of confidence wash over him as he watched you go. He’d only known you for so long, but something told him that choosing you was going to be the easiest decision he’d ever made.

(And when he told Jihoon that night, he’d called Jun and Wonwoo immediately to send him the money he’d just won for betting that Soonyoung would figure it out sooner rather than later.)

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @bewoyewo

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #kwon soonyoung x reader #kwon soonyoung x you #hoshi x reader #hoshi x you

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thejujvtsupost · 7 months

Text

Smitten Gojo

F!reader catches Gojo’s attention, and no matter how hard he tried to stay away he just couldn’t, it was for your own safety but he figures out he can keep you even safer. Or - Gojo falls in love and he’s very protective of what he holds dear.

You can now hit the #smittengojo tag or check the master list for more of this series! <3

Notes: Lowkey soul bond/soulmate au, fluff, getting together (kinda), first kisses, feelings are outed, mutual pining, all sorcerers have a soulbond.

Thinking about Gojo who keeps everyone at a distance, even his closest friends, until he finds you…

Satoru, who doesn’t know when or how it happened but he fell hard and fast- he won’t tell you though. His lifestyle would put you in danger by principle alone; he has so many enemies that would do anything to hurt him and he can’t let anything happen to you.

Satoru, who adores you but keeps his distance to keep you safe- no matter how hard it is to watch you struggle to make ends meet at your shitty job at the ramen shop. If he had it his way he’d make sure you never have to work again.

Satoru, who thinks you should be spoiled and living comfortably, not in a tiny, crappy apartment you can barely afford, in the world’s worst neighborhood. It was a total coincidence that he noticed you walking home in the pitch dark after a shift, he assumes, and spent a few minutes making sure you got inside safely.

Satoru, who comes in to the restaurant once a week to check on you, making sure to wear sunglasses instead of his blindfold to keep a low profile. (there’s absolutely nothing low profile about him.) He prevents you from falling a few times and picks up things you drop. He loves that you’re a klutz. He’s sure to tip twice what the bill is, then bribes another customer to add more of his money to tip double as well, he doesn’t care about money. It should be spent on you anyway.

Satoru, who finds out you’re sick and wants to take care of you so badly, because as strong as you are- you’re his precious baby. He has kept up a minor acquaintanceship with you, would it be weird if he stopped by with the excuse that he got your address to your crumbly and horribly unsafe apartment from your coworkers?

Okay, he might’ve lost sight of things and let himself get pulled in, and now you were friends but he made sure he kept you separate from everyone and everything else to protect your life

Satoru, who takes a chance and does it anyway. He gets some soup and other easy on the stomach meals you can eat while you’re recovering from the flu, as well as some extra soft tissues and other essentials.

Satoru, who thinks you’re absolutely adorable when you open your door, only to quickly shut it with a squeak, and lets him in after you put on a sweater and put your hair up. He still thinks you’re precious as ever.

You’re his baby, whether you know it or not doesn’t matter- you’re his baby in his heart.

Satoru, who knows you’re always adorable to him. He sets you up with some of the soup and when you smile at him he almost goes into cardiac arrest. He puts his number in your phone and tells you to let him know if you need anything at all, because that’s what friends are for. He hopes he’s not imagining it when you briefly let disappointment cross your features at the word “friends”.

Satoru, who sulks because you have yet to text him but that’s probably for the best. He’ll see you at his usual ramen visit and have the best hour of his entire week. He probably did imagine your disappointment then. :(

Satoru, who leaves for a mission abroad and tells you he’ll be traveling for work for a few weeks, “so stay outta trouble.” It’s a joke and a plea. He asks Nanami to check on you, having to share his secret as much as he hates to, because he’s not going to be able to protect you himself. He hopes you don’t get hurt while he’s gone, he’s learned you’re more likely to get hurt by your own clumsiness than a curse targeting you.

Satoru, who learns from Nanami that you haven’t been to work during his usual visit time. (you’ve had the same schedule practically forever, no way that’s changed.) He unfortunately has to share more of you and gives Nanami your address; when Nanami checks your apartment he finds a final warning eviction notice taped to your door- he reports back to the other man that you didn’t answer the door either. As soon as Satoru finds out he tries even harder to finish the mission early and get home to figure out what happened to his darling waitress.

Satoru, who gets home two days later and immediately goes to the ramen shop before even changing out of his bloody clothes to check on you, only to find out you got fired. You broke your ankle and spent too much time off, they had to let you go. He thinks it’s bullshit- they don’t appreciate how hard you work or care how much the customers like your sweet personality. He sees how tense your shoulders are and notices when you take weight off of one foot to soothe the ache; it kills him inside. You shouldn’t be working in the first place.

Satoru, who gets to your apartment and knocks gently to not scare you. The eviction notice is still up, hasn’t anyone been by to help you when you’re recovering? Seriously? You have a rickety elevator in your building, but how have you been dealing with everything else? He knows your apartment isn’t set up for an injury-

Satoru, who loses his train of thought when you open the door. The chain is still on but from what little he can see he knows you’re alone- and not doing well either. You can barely get around and you’re obviously in pain. You want to turn him away so he doesn’t see how bad you look but you just can’t. Not when he’s looking at you with those striking blue eyes full of so much concern. He took his glasses off to get the best look at you he can.

Satoru, who doesn’t think twice and breaks the chain on your door when you tell him you can’t reach it from where you’re holding yourself up. Crutches didn’t work out for you and you pretty much only use them to get to the bathroom or your bed. Technically you shouldn’t even put weight on your ankle but you don’t have a choice.

Satoru, who immediately picks you up and gets you on the couch, and you burst into tears because that’s the first time you’ve been comforted in years. You’ve been alone since you were barely an adult, no family, and making friends has always been so hard for you.

Satoru, upon seeing your tears, sits beside you and holds you until your sobs are mere hiccups. You’re still trying to find your words but he’s gathered that you fell down the stairs and lost your job, that you haven’t been able to pay rent and eat at the same time. You have no one, and he’s filled with pride because you’re still trying so hard to make your own way even though you started with absolutely nothing.

“What’s with the eviction notice? How behind on rent are you?”

You just shake your head and hide your face in his chest, not wanting to tell him how bad it is because he obviously comes from a lot of money and it’ll only remind you how little of a chance there is that he’d want to be with someone like you. “Sorry, this is so pathetic. I can’t believe I’m crying on you like a damn baby.”

Satoru, who doesn’t think it’s pathetic at all. He hates that you’re hurting but he’s here for you now.

“But you are my baby.” He says it with a little frown- then proceeds to freak out when he realizes he said it out loud and you heard it. He wants to jump off a cliff it’s so mortifying. But it’s too late now, he can’t take it back.

“What? What do you mean?”

Satoru, who has no other choice than to lay it all out on the line for you. He’s tried so hard to stay away and keep you safe from him but it’s no use.

Satoru, who has been speaking with his eyes closed and peeks to check your reaction. It catches him by surprise.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to feel bad for me or anything, I wasn’t trying to guilt you-”

He cuts you off, because he can’t let you go thinking he pities you.

Satoru, who opens his eyes all the way when he feels your hand on his cheek; then you’re kissing him and it’s so soft and sweet. He leans in for another kiss when you pull away, he thinks he’s addicted already.

“Come stay with me? I can’t just leave you here.”

“I dont know…” you have to tell him you can’t pay to be his roommate, his home has to be way fancier than yours.

“I’m not letting my baby pay rent. You’re not a roommate.”

You agree to stay with him, he helps you gather the small suitcase that fits your clothes and essentials. He tells you he’ll have someone get the rest of your stuff.

Satoru, who loves seeing you in his your shared home. It didn’t feel like a home until you came with him. You haven’t established if you’re together or not yet but he doesn’t care, he’s not gonna push you during your vulnerable moments. There’ll be plenty of time to figure it out now that you’re home where you belong.

Satoru, sets you up in his bedroom with your leg elevated and got your pain meds you couldn’t afford before. His room has a large tv and a spacious bathroom attached. He knows his mattress is the most comfortable and it’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever slept on. It makes you nervous you’ll ruin it somehow, but he gives you an encouraging smile when you look unsure, because you belong there too.

Satoru, who wants you to be comfortable above all else. You can have his bed, anything of his is yours as far as he’s concerned. He hopes someday he’ll get to sleep in the same bed as you, but again he won’t force you to let him. You hold the cards- he gave them all to you.

Satoru, who after making sure you’re all set for the night, tells you he’ll check on you in the morning when he sees you nodding off. He brushes your hair from your face and leaves a gentle kiss on your forehead. When he stands up he sees your hand fisted in his shirt.

“Please don’t leave? Please?”

Satoru, can’t say no to that offer. He plans to keep space between you two to not make you uncomfortable, but you have other plans. You’re tired, not drugged up; you can make your own decisions just fine thank you very much. You try to pull him closer by his shirt and you’re unaware that you’re pouting, he complies easily.

Satoru, holds you close and tries not to dwell on the emotional release because he doesn’t want to deal with it right now, that he’s relaxed on an entirely different level for the first time in years.

Satoru, who listens to your soft breathing and falls asleep faster than he has, probably ever, so ready to wake up next to you.

• Index -> Next

Thinking about making a request? Check my bio to see if they’re open!

#smitten Gojo #gojo x you #no use of y/n #gojo fluff #soulmates #whipped Gojo #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #I’m declaring they exist in my au #if soulmates exist it’s this #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #reader insert #jjk fic

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lincolndjarin · 8 months

Text

Oh Honey. ★ masterlist

Welcome to Honey, West Virginia! [COMPLETED FIC]

pairing : monster!joel miller x afab!mortician!reader

gen. tags : soulmates au, no outbreak au, monster lover, 18+ mdni

series summary : you’ve been given a gift. a fresh start in a brand new place, the sleepy little town of Honey, WV. a distant aunt has passed away and left you a little plot of land and her camper, the stars must be aligning for you because the local mortician is looking for an assistant and you’re desperate for the work experience. your new employer even offers to set you up with her brother-in-law! things are looking up, you’ve got a brand new home, a new town, a hot date, (and thanks to a series of bear attacks that started immediately after your arrival) you have more than enough work to keep you busy!

content warnings : eventual smut, teratophilia, graphic descriptions of violence, explicit descriptions of menstruation, graphic descriptions of the mortuary process, horror, depictions of extreme fear, body horror, graphic depictions of death, eldritch horror. this is a monster fucker fic, proceed accordingly

no use of y/n.

mostly no description of afab!reader given, other than the fact that she is younger than joel, has hair & has a period.

chapter one : down the rabbit hole (11k words)

[ When you were just a child you found a deer in the woods behind your childhood home. ]

Right on the edge of the forest where there was a road you weren’t supposed to go near. You had gone out to find stones to paint when you came across her. ]

chapter two : beware the jabberwock (15k words)

[ You don’t sleep well after your dream.

Just staring up at the ceiling until the sun is starting to shine through the windows.

Not that you’ve been sleeping well recently to begin with. And Joel suddenly feels less safe, the grip of his arms around you feels more like it’s trapping you rather than protecting you. ]

chapter three : we're all mad here (11k words)

[ “It’s okay, it’s just me.”

Joel, Joel, Joel.

The only thing that consumes your thoughts. ]

chapter four : painting the roses red (11k words)

[ “Joel…” You give him a wary look as he bares his teeth at you, a low rumble starting in his throat as your instincts kick in. “Joel!” You yell like you would if you were scolding a dog and he freezes in place. ]

chapter five : i'll decide where to go from here (6k words)

[ “C’mere, bunny.” His stubble brushes against the back of your neck, his mouth is warm as you feel a kiss placed against your spine. ]

#lincolndjarin #joel miller #tlou #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou hbo #joel tlou #the last of us hbo #monster fucker #monster lover #monster romance #oh honey

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thatbloodymuggle · 1 month

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READY TO RUN (vii)

SEVEN - STACCATO

SUMMARY: in a world where everyone has a predetermined match, JJ Maybank and Y/N Montgomery want nothing to do with theirs. it has to be a cruel joke; the universe forcing two people to love each other when they don’t know how.

PAIRING: jj maybank x reader / soulmate au

WORD COUNT: 7.8k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: smut, mirror sex, choking, oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, choking, slight humiliation kink

✰✰✰

“What a great match, Georgie! That last cross-court shot was just picture perfect,” Clyde Montgomery praised his youngest daughter as he swirled the celery stick around his bloody mary.

You feigned a smile beside your mother, resisting the urge to slump over in your seat and nod off. You hadn’t slept more than 4 hours the previous night, and Georgia’s post-tournament club dinner was the last place you wanted to be on the island. But you knew you had to uphold your end of the deal with your father, and that meant pretending to be invested in the 13-year-old brat’s success. Still, you struggled to keep your eyes open. You hadn’t been able to sleep for the past few nights; ever since JJ’s visit.

Your gut twisted at the thought of that night, and despite the time passed over the past few days, the sensation hadn’t subsided. You had seen a side of JJ you never imagined existed. His vulnerability, and the ease with which you provided him comfort, terrified you. It scared you shitless, and each night since then, you found yourself restless thinking about it. His radio silence certainly contributed to your anxiety, as he had left before you woke up and hadn’t texted you since.

Needless to say, you were not in the mood to hear your family drone on and on about frivolous things. You found yourself subconsciously passing the time by watching the condensation drip down your glass of water and peering around the restaurant, a small part of you hoping to catch sight of his tousled blond hair. You knew he picked up shifts on Saturdays, and you hated that you knew that.

“Y/N,” your father’s stern voice snapped you from your train of thought and you jolted in your seat. His eyebrow was raised expectantly and all eyes were trained on you.

“Yes, sir?," you stumbled.

He sighed, exasperated, and ran a hand down his face, “I asked what you’ll be having. You need to be more aware of your surroundings.”

You flushed and your eyes jumped to the menu which you had yet to look over, “Oh, um, I guess I’ll get a club sandwich.”

“Why don’t you get the fig salad?” Margaret Montgomery’s voice cut through the air like a knife, “The dress you picked out for Midsummers was a tight squeeze when you tried it on, and I’m not getting you another one.”

You flushed as your sisters snickered at your mother’s pointed insult. You pursed your lips and slumped in your seat with a nod, trying your best to swallow down the lump in your throat. It was at that moment that you caught sight of the dirty blond hair you’d been keeping an eye out for all day. His eyes shot to yours and you held his gaze for a fleeting moment before looking back down at the condensation on your water glass.

The sharp stabbing pain of embarrassment from your mother’s comment muddled with the influx of emotions his presence brought was overwhelming. Your hands were clammy, and your leg shook with anxiety. You jumped abruptly from your seat and barely excused yourself before walking as fast as you could to the nearest bathroom. Your heart pounded and you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding as you made it inside the single stall bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

You turned on the faucet and ran your hands underneath the water. Your shoulders relaxed as you drank in the relaxing sensation and focused on the coolness of the water.

You leaned your elbows against the counter and shut off the flow of water after a minute or so. Your dripping hands lay limp over the sink as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. You frowned as you studied the bags under your eyes and the pimple erupting on your chin.

A sharp knock sounded on the door.

"Occupied," you called as you continued your self-scrutiny.

The knock sounded again, and your brows furrowed in annoyance, "I said occupied!"

The sharp knock turned into a banging, shaking the door at its hinges. You gritted your teeth and clenched your fists against the counter. With a huff of frustration, you swung the door open, ready to give the nuisance a piece of your mind. Your glaring eyes narrowed as they met a familiar set of devilish blues.

"What the hell are you doing?" you hissed. You stumbled back as you were met with a soft, but forceful shove inside.

JJ swung the door shut behind him and locked it in one swift motion.

"Someone's gonna see you, you can't just--" he cut off your rambling by pulling you flush against him and crashing his lips onto yours.

You tensed in shock at his brazenness. He pushed your back against the wall, and you let your eyes flutter shut, melting into the kiss. His lips were rough against yours, and you found yourself drunk on the feeling as they moved in sync. Your eyes shot open as he abruptly pulled away and began trailing kisses down the side of your neck. You gasped as he pushed the strap of your tank top aside and sucked harshly on the junction of your collarbone.

"We can't do this here," you squeaked.

He ignored you and wrapped his arms around your thighs, roughly picking you up and sitting you on the counter of the sink. He nudged his thigh between your knees, forcing them apart.

"We're gonna get caught," you weakly protested.

JJ let out a groan of irritation against your skin. He dug his blunt nails into the soft skin of your inner thigh, and you jumped.

"Do you ever shut up?" his nose trailed up behind your ear, and the tickle of his voice made you shiver. Your breath hitched as he moved his hand underneath your skirt and toyed with the edge of your panties, "The only way we're getting caught is if you keep running your mouth."

You bristled at his condescending tone, but couldn't stop yourself from lurching forward and closing the gap between them, reconnecting your lips once more. He curled his fingers underneath the band of your panties and pulled it back before letting it snap back against your skin. You gasped at the stinging sensation, and he used the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth, deepening the kiss.

Desperate to take back control, you shoved at his chest, and JJ stumbled back in surprise. You swiftly flipped him so he was leaning against the counter as you reattached your lips to his. JJ groaned as you reached between down and unbuttoned his khaki shorts. He reached down to release his cock straining against his boxers, but you swatted his hands away.

"You had your fun last time. It's my turn now," you mumbled against him before biting down on his bottom lip, eliciting a hiss from him.

JJ relented and allowed you to take control, at least for the time being.

You shoved his shorts down so they pooled around his ankles. You trailed kisses down his neck as you ran your fingers along the hem of his boxers teasingly. He groaned as you palmed him through the thin material.

"My patience is running thin, sweetheart," he grunted, sliding one hand underneath your skirt and groping the curve of your ass harshly.

Before he had a chance to flip you back around, you sank to your knees in front of him. JJ bit back a moan at the sight of your doe eyes staring up at him through your long lashes. He watched, jaw slack, as you slowly pulled down his boxers, releasing his throbbing length. He sucked in a breath as you dribbled spit on the head. You wrapped your hand around his cock and stroked up and down the shaft, twisting your wrist at the bottom. His eyes rolled back as you licked a slow strip from the base to the head before taking him into your mouth.

"Fuck," JJ moaned as you moved at a steady pace, up and down his cock, using one hand to massage his balls. You rolled your tongue around his length as you moved, paying particular attention to the head of his cock each time you pulled back. He wrapped one hand in your hair, guiding your movements. He couldn't help himself from bucking his hips, groaning as you gagged around his length. Spit dribbled down your chin as he began fucking your mouth. You looked up at him through teary, hooded eyes, and he nearly came at the sight. JJ jerked you off of him in one swift movement, pulling you to your feet.

"You had your fun," he roughly turned your body so you faced the mirror and he stood behind you, "Now it's my turn."

You gasped as he bunched your skirt up around your waist and shoved your panties to the side. He ran a finger through your folds and you flushed as he chuckled into your ear, "You're dripping, princess."

You tried to turn in JJ's hold, but his grip around your waist was firm, forcing you to face the mirror. Your eyes fluttered shut and you lulled your head back onto his shoulder as he sunk one finger into your heat. Your lips parted as he curled it inside you, hitting a spot you didn't even know existed.

Your eyes shot open as JJ wrapped his other hand around your neck and forced your head forward.

"Don't hide, baby. I want you to watch yourself, see how pretty you are," his rasp sent a shiver up your spine. He added another finger and you let out a strangled moan. Your cheeks burned and you tried to turn your head away, but his grip was firm, "You want me to stop?" his movements slowed.

You whined and shook your head, "Uh uh."

"Then be a good girl and watch yourself fall apart on my fingers," he nipped at your skin.

His pace increased as he massaged your walls, curling his fingers in just the right spot. Your eyes watered as you watched yourself in the mirror. You were embarrassed by the vulgarity of the image, but even more so by how aroused it made you. You whimpered as JJ unwrapped his hand from your throat and moved it down to rub your clit. Your knees buckled at the doubled stimulation, and you grasped at JJ's biceps, desperate for something to stabilize yourself. You gnawed on your bottom lip, trying your best to suppress your cries of pleasure.

"JJ, I'm--" you blabbered, unable to think straight.

He curled his fingers even faster, creating an obscene squelching sound. You shuddered and your eyes rolled back as you felt yourself approaching your high. You cried out and nearly crumpled to the ground when he abruptly removed his fingers. Your lips parted in shock and tears pricked at your eyes at the cruel smirk on his face.

"Oh, sorry, princess. Were you close?" his mocking tone made your bottom lip wobble.

"I hate you," your voice trembled.

JJ chuckled at this and flipped you around, lifting you onto the counter. He pressed his lips against yours and you melted into the sloppy kiss. "Well you sure have a funny way of showing it," he mumbled against your mouth.

Before you had a chance to retaliate, JJ yanked your panties down your legs, tossing them aside carelessly. He pulled you forward so you sat on the very edge of the sink. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. You snaked one arm around him and sunk your nails into the soft skin behind his neck, "Shut up and fuck me into tomorrow."

He didn't need to be told twice. JJ hastily lined up against your entrance, and pushed in slowly, his jaw slack as he watched his cock disappear into your body. You stifled a moan as he bottomed out, drunk on the feeling of him buried so deep inside of you. He pulled his hips back slowly until just the tip of him remained inside you. You whined at the loss and clawed at his back. JJ rested his forehead against yours before swiftly crashing his lips against yours and snapping his hips, plunging back inside of you.

You yelped against his mouth as he set a punishing pace pounding into you. You felt stuffed to the brim and held onto him for dear life, sinking your teeth into his collarbone to muffle your cries. The sound of smacking flesh filled the marbled bathroom.

"Touch yourself for me," he grunted against your ear.

You reached a shaky hand in-between your bodies and rubbed your clit as he rutted into you. The added pleasure made your toes curl.

JJ pressed his lips against your neck, "You're taking me so well, baby. Can't get enough of this tight little cunt."

You fluttered against him at his sinful words. His unrelenting tempo made your gut tighten, and you couldn't tell if it was his or your own high rapidly approaching.

"I'm so close, J," you mewled, trying your best to keep quiet.

His hips stuttered at the sound of your desperate plea, "I know, baby. Let go."

Your vision blurred and your jaw dropped as shockwaves gripped your body. JJ released a guttural groan as your climax sent him over the edge. He rolled his hips against yours as he spilled himself inside of you, your fluttering walls milking every last drop of his seed.

Dazed from the euphoria of their climaxes, you slumped against each other trying to catch your breaths. JJ inched out of you slowly, and your breath hitched at the loss. You flushed as you became abruptly aware of the mess between your thighs.

"Can you--" you started but were cut off by JJ handing you a roll of toilet paper, as if he had read your mind.

An awkward silence enveloped the two of you as you cleaned yourselves and tried your best to hide any evidence of the fleeting interaction.

Your eyes widened at the sight of your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was a mess and your mascara had smeared, not to mention the blush which just wouldn't budge from your cheeks. JJ watched you from the corner of his eye as he pulled on his boxers.

"You know," you rasped, breaking the tension-filled air, "I was thinking about your situation."

JJ paused his movements and you noticed his whole body tense, but opted to continue as he hadn't stopped you.

"I could help you with reporting him, getting out of that house. I can only imagine how impossible it must feel without the right resources and support, so if you--"

"And then what?" JJ snapped. His cold tone made the hair on your arms prickle.

"What do you mean?" your brows furrowed.

He scoffed, "What happens when I turn him in? CPS comes in and uproots my life, throws me in the system. Maybe even throws me into a worse situation?"

"That's not necessarily true, they could actually help more than you think--"

JJ whipped around to face you with menacing eyes, "He might be a piece of shit, but that's my dad. He's the only family I've got," you shrunk in on yourself at his tone, "You don't get it, Montgomery, and you never will..”

You frowned. You gently rested a hand on his back while he bucked his belt, “I know it’s not my place," you spoke softly, “But I just can’t stand to see you suffering–”

“You’re right, it’s not your place,” he threw your hand off, “You've got a silver spoon shoved so far down your throat you can’t see straight. You’re so fucking sheltered from hardship. When will you get it through your thick skull that I don’t wanna be part of your perfect little family in your perfect little house?”

JJ’s words cut you deep. Your voice trembled as you spoke, “I know hardship. Maybe not in the way you do, but just because my pain is invisible doesn’t mean it's any less real.”

“Invisible pain,” he scoffed, “What? Like Daddy didn’t buy you the Prada shoes you wanted?”

Tears of frustration welled in your eyes, which only egged him on.

“I don’t want your help, and I sure as hell don’t want your pity. But most of all, I don’t want you, Montgomery. We made an agreement that this,” he gestured between you, “Is purely physical. Don’t delude yourself into thinking it’s anything more.”

Your bottom lip wobbled as a tear trailed down your face. His words were vicious. You sucked in a deep breath, trying to collect yourself. You looked into his eyes, the once bright blue now a stormy gray; a deathless shield.

“You’re right," you spoke quietly in an effort to keep your voice even, “It’s nothing more. I should get back to my perfect little family.”

You didn’t spare him a second glance as you turned on your heel and fled the suffocating bathroom. You didn’t care that tears were now rolling freely down your hot cheeks. You didn’t care that he could feel your nails digging into your palms, or that your mascara was probably ruined. You didn’t care, because no one else did; no one cared for you, so why should you?

As you approached the table to rejoin your family, you wiped your eyes and straightened your skirt. You covered the mark on your neck with your hair, and put on your best plastic smile. You sat back down next to your mother, your back straight and your hands resting in your lap, ready to smile politely and say nothing. No one spared you a second glance. But this time, you hadn’t deluded yourself into thinking they would. They hadn’t noticed you'd been missing for the better part of an hour, let alone that your eyes were swollen red. Because they didn’t care.

So, with a heavy heart and a hollowness inside, you stared down at the fig salad, which looked back up at you mockingly. You clenched your fist around your fork and shoved the food fit for a rabbit around the plate. You glared down at the bits of pecan and crumbled goat cheese, which seemed to symbolize every bit of rage you felt towards your mother. Your jaw clenched as you fumed quietly. Why were you so spineless? Why were you so concerned with maintaining your fragile reputation as a perfect little Montgomery child, when your parents cared so little for you? Why couldn't you, just once in your life, stand up for yourself? And why the fuck were you letting JJ Maybank’s words dictate your entire being?

The sight of his ruffled blond hair bussing the table across from your family was the trigger–you had had enough.

“You know, I met my soulmate the other day,” your uncharacteristically cold voice sliced through the air. The whole Montgomery family paused their conversation and stared at you in shock. Margaret dropped her fork, Clyde choked on his drink, and Dixie and Georgia’s jaws fell slack.

You stared at your mother, and at the boy who had sent your life into upheaval behind her. JJ had his back turned away from your table, but you could see he had stopped his movements, frozen in place. Good, you thought to yourself.

“Yeah," you sighed. Your next words were calculated and you spoke in a sickly sweet tone, molasses dripping from your lips, “Your biggest fear came true, Mother: he’s a Pogue. The Montgomery family name has a big, fat stain on it now! Wonder how you’re gonna cover that one up.”

You could hear a pin drop a mile away.

Margaret shook with rage, whereas Clyde’s face had turned the shade of a tomato. You looked just past your mother to see that JJ had turned around, his eyes wide with shock at the scene unfolding before him. A smug grin took over your face at the chaos you had created.

“You..,” your mother seethed, “you ungrateful little brat. You’re a miserable excuse for a daughter, and if you think for one minute that I’m about to let you ruin–”

“Get out,” Clyde’s eerily deep and even tone cut off his wife. His menacing eyes bore into yours. “Get the hell out of here. Now.”

You gulped in fear, but maintained your stone cold mask, determined not to show weakness.

“Gladly," you bit back, throwing your napkin on top of the fig salad before not so quietly storming away, effectively capturing the attention of bystanders.

You could hear your parents bickering behind you as you made your exit, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t care less about the impending consequences of your outburst. All you cared about was getting as far away from there as possible.

You trembled with pent up anger as you finally escaped the suffocating air of the country club. Your nails dug into your palms as you stomped down the road, desperately searching for an outlet. You felt like screaming until your throat hurt, or punching something until your knuckles bled.

A shiver crept up your spine at the feeling of a feather-light touch stroking your forearm. Your blood boiled at JJ’s pathetic attempt to comfort you. This was all his fault. If it hadn’t been for him, you wouldn’t have been in this mess in the first place.

“Fuck!”

You cried out as you felt the bark of the nearby tree splinter underneath your knuckles. You cradled your fist in your arms and squinted your eyes shut, as if doing so would block out the pain.

At least he got the message, you thought to yourself as the feeling of his touch on your arm abruptly left.

You fumbled through your bag in search of your phone. You blinked back tears as you pulled it out and stared blankly at your home screen. The picture of you grinning alongside Anna only sent you deeper into your hurricane of emotions.

You frantically searched for Topper’s phone number, but paused as a text notification populated your screen.

8:06 PM Sarah: what are u up to tonight? i heard there’s gonna be a kegger on the cut

Your fingers moved to respond before your mind could catch up.

to Sarah:

i’m in delivered 8:07 PM

✰✰✰

The pungent smell of weed and stale beer invaded your senses the second you stepped out of John B’s van.

The nearby beach was flooded with Tourons and Pouges alike, chattering over the blasting bass of some rock song. In the center of it all was a blazing fire pit, complete with beer pong tables and spike ball nets.

“I know it’s not your typical party scene,” John B hopped out of the van, “But I think you’ll find that Pogues do it better.”

You laughed, “This is perfect. Thanks for inviting me guys.”

Kie grinned at you and looped an arm through yours, “Welcome to the dark side. We don’t have any cookies, but we got a lot of beer.”

You giggled as the two of you set off towards the crowded beach, followed closely by John B and Sarah.

While this technically wasn’t the first time you had made an appearance at a kegger, it was certainly the first time you’d shown up with a group of Pogues. A small part of you felt bad for leaving Topper and Kate in the dark, but the thought of entering a mansion, let alone attending a Kook party, made your stomach churn. This was the perfect escape from your suffocating life on the Figure Eight; even if just for a night.

“Soo, I was promised beer," you teased Kie with a nudge as you arrived at the center of the crowd.

“Coming right up, m’lady!” John B grinned as he filled a red solo cup to the brim with alcohol.

You smiled as you took the plastic cup from him with a courtesy, “Thank you, kind sir.”

“Who the fuck invited her?” a familiar voice sent a shiver up your spine.

You whipped around and swallowed down a gasp as you came face to face with the boy who had sent your life into complete upheaval. The sight of him was an acrid reminder of events earlier in the evening. You trembled as you were reminded of the touch of his skin against yours. Your face fell as you remembered the seething look on your father's face after your outburst at the dinner table.

Despite the fiery rage bubbling in the pit of your stomach at the sight of JJ, you couldn't help but swoon at the sight of his windswept hair dusted with sand. You studied the slight downward curve of his lips, and the cinch between his brows. Pope lingered behind him with an awkward grin which looked more like a grimace.

JJ’s jaw ticked with irritation, and you only narrowed your eyes in response. You threw your head back as you chugged the contents of your cup, ignoring the burning sensation of stale beer down your throat.

“Oooh, Kook can drink!” Pope cheered you on.

You resisted the urge to gag as you crumpled up the empty plastic cup in your hand, beer dribbling down your chin. You burped loudly, sending Kie into a fit of giggles.

“Last I checked you don’t own this beach, Pogue," you quipped.

JJ grinded his teeth with a snarl.

“Cool it, JJ. And Y/N, if you’re gonna hang out with us then no derogatory usage of ‘Pogue’,” Kie intervened before a fight could erupt.

“Force of habit. I digress,” you averted your gaze from JJ and turned to the others with a smile, “So am I the only one drinking?”

Pope and Sarah grinned before raising their cups in unison, following your lead and chugging their drinks.

“Refill?” John B nudged you.

“Please," you laughed as he filled another cup to the brim.

You didn’t need to look at JJ to know he was seething; but frankly, you didn’t care.

“Who wants to play pong?” Kie shouted with a grin.

“You’re so on!” you snatched Sarah’s hand and dragged her to the nearby table before the Cameron girl had a chance to respond. Kie and Pope swiftly followed, taking position at the other end of the wooden table.

“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, Kie. I have a long standing winning streak," you teased from across the table as the teenagers arranged plastic cups on either end.

Kie snorted, “Well good luck ‘cause Sarah’s a notoriously awful shot.”

“Hey,” Sarah shouted back with a frown, “Don’t forget I won last time!”

“Only ‘cause I was on your team,” the sound of JJ’s gravelly voice right behind you made you tense. Nevertheless, you ignored him and continued setting up the game, pouring a liberal amount of beer into each cup.

“How about losers have to do a keg stand?” Pope called out as he tossed you a ping pong ball.

A devilish grin crept onto your face, “You’re so on.”

The teenagers set to work playing the game. You could feel JJ’s eyes burning through you, but you avoided his gaze and instead focused on shooting the plastic ball into the beer-filled cups, tipping back drinks all the while.

“Looks like Little Miss Montgomery is about to lose that winning streak,” Pope teased from across the table as they prepared to throw the balls yet again. You frowned at the sight of a single cup on your end of the table in comparison to the three remaining cups on the other end.

“Don’t get cocky now, you still have to make the shot," you slurred, the alcohol catching up to you.

Your words were almost instantly drowned out by Pope and Kie’s cheering as he sank the ping pong ball into their final cup, effectively ending your long-standing winning streak.

You groaned as Sarah pulled the ball out of the cup and chugged the beer inside.

“They were right. You really do suck at pong," you grumbled as Sarah threw down the cup and wiped her mouth.

“Hey!” she pouted, “It’s not all about winning.”

“Uh, yeah it is,” Kie snorted, “And I’m pretty sure there’s a keg stand waiting for you two, if I remember correctly.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. You threw your hands up and relented, “Okay, okay. But Sarah’s going first since I carried that game.”

Sarah huffed but marched towards the keg. John B followed closely behind, and held her legs up as she positioned herself in a handstand on top of the large container of beer. A small crowd gathered, cheering as she took the tap head into her mouth and began chugging. You whooped alongside them as your friend chugged until she couldn’t take anymore. Sarah came down from the keg with a loud belch, sending the group of Pogues into a fit of laughter.

“Alright, Montgomery, your turn!” Pope nudged you towards the keg.

You stumbled towards the silver container, already feeling dazed from the alcohol. Still, you braced your arms on either end of the keg and kicked your legs up. Pope helped stabilize you as you took the tap head and followed Sarah’s lead, letting the bitter taste flood your mouth. Your head pounded from your upside down position and you were vaguely aware of the cheering crowd as you chugged. You continued until you felt your arms begin to wobble and the urge to vomit. Finally, Pope released his hold and you flipped back onto the ground, stumbling as you regained your footing.

You laughed and gave a dramatic bow to the onlooking crowd, ignoring JJ’s hawk eyes on you.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you clumsily dug it out.

11:56 PM Topper: why the fuck is your find my at the Cut?

You squinted through blurred vision as you sloppily typed out a reply.

to Topper:

kgr on th cut!!! come or ur a bitchff delivered 11:58 PM

“Hey Y/N! What are the odds you skinny dip in the ocean right now?” Sarah’s shrill voice pulled you from your phone.

You glanced up at your drunk friend through hooded eyes. Sarah’s infectious smile made your own lips curve upwards.

“1 in 10, but only if you do it with me," you giggled.

Sarah’s eyes widened as she doubled over in laughter, “Okay, who’s counting?”

John B frowned and grabbed Sarah’s hand, but she slipped away and wrapped her arms around you instead.

“I’ll do it,” Pope raised his hand before burping loudly, sending you into another fit of laughter.

“Hold on–” John B tried to interject, but was drowned out by Pope’s dramatic countdown.

“1…2…3!”

“7!”

You and Sarah shrieked as you shouted the same number in unison.

“Look what you’ve done!” you cried and gave Sarah a playful shove.

Tears streamed down Sarah’s face as she doubled over in laughter, “Well rules are rules, come on!”

“Come on, Sarah, don’t be dumb,” John B interjected with a sour face.

Sarah ignored her soulmate’s protests as she grabbed your hand and dragged you towards the ocean. You avoided JJ’s burning gaze and followed your friend.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, John B! I’ll keep mine on,” Sarah shouted over her shoulder as you sprinted together towards the crashing waves.

You and Sarah ignored John B’s protests as you clumsily got rid of your clothes. You giggled as you tripped while stepping out of your jean shorts, nearly falling down onto the sand below. Sarah peeled off her top and yelped at the feeling of the cool breeze, wrapping her arms around her chest. You continued until you left only in your underwear. You ignored the wolf whistles erupting from the crowd of Pogues and Tourons that had gathered around.

You felt a rush of hot anger which wasn’t your own bubbling in the pit of your stomach. You glanced over your shoulder and caught sight of JJ and John B standing side by side, arms crossed and jaws taut with irritation. You were too far away, and frankly too drunk, to decipher the look in his eyes; but his rage coursing through your veins spoke louder than words, and it only egged you on.

A devious smirk crept onto your beer-stained lips. You grabbed Sarah’s hand and set off into a clumsy run towards the water. You shrieked with laughter as you crashed into the waves. Goosebumps erupted along your body, but the numbing effect of alcohol fueled you on.

“Oh my god it’s fucking freezing!” Sarah’s shrill cry brought you back to reality.

“It feels so good," you laughed as a wave came over your shivering friend

You bobbed up and down in the water, reveling in the cheers of the crowd from the beach. You threw your head back into the ocean, letting the eerie sound fill your ears. You fluttered your eyes shut and grinned blindly up at the winking moon. The combination of alcohol and the freezing cold of the ocean flooded your brain, and for once you felt completely and utterly free.

You abruptly pulled your head back with a gasp as a splash of water came over you. You didn’t hesitate to retaliate, splashing Sarah back with all of the strength you could muster. You went back and forth splashing each other for what felt like hours, but was in reality mere minutes.

“Come on, Sarah, that’s enough,” John B’s muffled shout sounded from the beach.

Sarah rolled her eyes but relented, “We better get back before he actually loses his mind.”

“Nah, I’m not done yet. And I don’t answer to men,” you quipped as you spun in the water.

Sarah grabbed your hand, “Come on, Y/N. I’m actually freezing now and I’m not leaving you behind.”

You refused to budge and pulled your arm back with a drunken grin, “You can go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

Sarah frowned and glanced between the intoxicated Montgomery girl and her angry boyfriend in the distance.

“Seriously, Sarah, go ahead. I promise I’m right behind you. Just a few more minutes.”

Sarah sighed, but with alcohol clouding her judgment, she relented, “Okay. But no more than 5 minutes or I’m sending John B to get you.”

You mockingly saluted your fellow Kook, “Yes ma’am!”

You watched as Sarah swam back to shore and hastily ran over to her clothes discarded on the sand. You could see John B approach from the distance, blocking the dissipating crowd’s view of his girlfriend’s nearly naked body. You could see him chewing Sarah out as she got dressed, and you rolled your eyes.

“Come on, Y/N, you’re way too drunk for this,” Kie’s concerned voice shouted from a distance.

“I’m so sober right now," you shouted back, lying through your teeth, “I bet I could hold my breath for a minute!”

“Don’t–”

You didn’t hear the rest of Kie’s protests as you sucked in a deep breath before submerging yourself completely in the cold, dark abyss. Your head spun as the iciness engulfed you. You squinted your eyes shut and embraced the feeling as a welcome escape. As you counted down the seconds, you reveled in the sanctuary of silence. Through the pounding in your head and the burning in your lungs, your mind was completely void; no stuck-up parents, no fake friends, and most importantly, no JJ.

You remained underneath the water until you felt faint and you were forced to resurface, gasping for air. You panted as you wiped your eyes and turned to the group of Pogues on the beach.

“How long was it?” you shouted.

But you only heard a scream before a wave crashed over you.

The brutal force swept your body back under water as a sharp pain erupted on the back of your head. You flailed your arms, desperately trying to make your way back up to the surface, but to no avail. Your chest burned from the lack of oxygen as panic and fatigue simultaneously set in. The once peaceful escape was now a vicious cage, and the adrenaline fueling you slipped away. You let your eyes flutter shut.

Just as your tired limbs started to slow, you felt the electrifying touch of an arm wrap around your waist.

Your eyes shot open as you were pulled back to the surface.

You coughed violently and gasped for air. You subconsciously wrapped your arms around the shoulders of your savior as you fought to catch your breath. The once calming sensation of water against your skin was suddenly scorching, and you wanted nothing more than to escape. Slowly, your blurred vision began to regain focus as you were dragged through the water. As the shore approached, an arm snaked underneath your legs and you were lifted from the water. Finally lucid, you averted your gaze to face your savior.

JJ’s stormy eyes stared down at you as he carried your shivering body to shore.

The look of panic on his face made you abruptly aware of the pain in the back of your head. And just as suddenly, you became aware of your tight grip around his neck, and the unwanted comfort his touch rained down over you.

You fought every instinct to tighten your grip around him, and instead flailed your legs and pushed at his heaving chest.

“Let me go, you fucker!”

You squirmed out of his grip and cried out in pain as your body hit the sand below. JJ scoffed and unceremoniously tossed your discarded clothes from the sand on top of you.

“Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay?” Sarah’s voice was frantic as she kneeled beside you.

“Can you breathe?” Kie followed suit, gripping your shoulders.

You winced and nudged Kie off of you, “I’m fine," you grumbled.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

The pounding in your head amplified at the booming sound of a furious Topper.

“Y/N, what happened?” Kate arrived at the scene, kneeling between Kie and Sarah.

“I don’t–” you tried to respond but were drowned out by the sound of Topper and the Pogues bickering.

You lazily tried to pull on your clothes, but Kate, Kie, and Sarah’s grabbing hands shooed your own away as they helped you get dressed. The touch of the three girls and the bickering of the boys was suffocating, and you felt yourself gasping for breath again as if another wave had crashed over you.

“Would everyone just leave me the fuck alone?” you cried.

You sucked in a breath as the grabbing hands and arguing voices subsided.

You weakly pulled your shirt over your head. You ignored the burning gaze of the Pogues and your friends as you slowly hauled yourself up from the ground, stumbling over your trembling legs. They waited with bated breath as you dusted the sand from your body and turned to face them.

“I’m fine," you rasped, your voice hoarse.

“Y/N, I really think we should take you to an urgent care or something. What if–”

“I said I’m fine, Kate. Would you drop it?” you snapped at your friend.

Kate frowned and glanced towards Topper, urging her boyfriend to step in.

“I’m getting another drink," you grumbled. You ignored the throbbing pain in your head and set off towards the keg, but were stopped in your tracks by Topper’s strong grip around your bicep.

“No the fuck you’re not. You’ve had enough,” he forcefully pulled you back, and you fought against his iron grip.

“Last I checked I have free will," you slurred, finally yanking your arm away, “And I plan on exercising it.”

“Please, Y/N, you’re not thinking straight. At least let us drive you home,” Kate pleaded, her eyes wide with concern.

You scoffed and let out a manic laugh at the suggestion.

“I’d rather end up in a ditch then go back to that hell hole,” your voice cracked as you spoke.

You stomped away before Topper or Kate could stop you. You grabbed a plastic cup and filled it until the cheap beer sloshed over the edges. But just as you raised it to your lips, it was snatched away.

Your jaw fell slack and your body shook with rage as your eyes met JJ’s. The softness of the ocean water dripping from his blond hair was a stark contrast to the sharpness of his clenched jaw. You grabbed at the cup he had stolen, but he threw it aside before you could retrieve your drink. You stomped with frustration as the contents spilled onto the fine sand below.

“You trying to kill yourself or something?” he seethed.

You ignored the Pogue and reached for another cup, but he knocked your arm away. Your anger only intensified at this.

“Would you stop trying to take care of me? I don’t need your help, and I sure as hell don’t need you," you hissed and shoved at his chest with all the strength you could muster.

His dry laugh made your skin crawl, “If I didn’t jump in and save your drunk ass you’d be at the bottom of the ocean right now. Cut the shit, Montgomery.”

“I’d rather be at the bottom of the ocean than anywhere near you," you spit.

You lunged forward towards the keg, but he wrapped his hands around your forearms.

A tear of frustration slipped from the corner of your eye as you screamed profanities at him and fought against his grip, but to no avail.

“You can’t just pick and choose when you give a shit about me, Maybank," you finally twisted out of his hold, “You made your feelings perfectly clear. Stop pretending to care,” your voice cracked as another tear escaped.

You made one last attempt towards the keg, but JJ wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back flush against his bare chest.

“I’m not pretending,” he rasped into your ear.

The floodgate broke.

Tears rolled down your face as sobs wracked your body. You weakly flailed your arms but JJ only tightened his grip around you.

“Leave me alone," you sobbed, “just leave me alone.”

“No,” his voice was stern.

You weren't sure how long you struggled in his grip. But the pounding in your head began to take over, and you couldn’t see straight with tears clouding your vision. Finally you relented, crumpling against him. You fell limp as sobs continued to wrack your body. JJ eased you to the ground, all the while holding you flush against him, afraid to let go.

“I’m so tired of all of this," you cried as you wrapped your hands around his arms, finally giving into his hold, “I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of living my life for everyone but me. I’m tired of being perfect. I’m tired of my parents, and I’m tired of you.”

You couldn’t stop the stream of words and tears. You were vaguely aware of the crowd of your friends watching your breakdown, but you couldn’t stop it; no matter how hard you tried. You gasped for breath through your sobs, and JJ buried his face into the crook of your shoulder.

“Can you count to 10 for me?” his mouthed against your skin.

You shook your head violently.

“I’m just so tired,” your voice cracked as you cried.

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispered, “Can you feel my heartbeat?” he pulled you impossibly closer.

You shut your eyes tight and tried to focus on the pounding of his heart against your back. You nodded weakly.

“Focus on my heartbeat,” he whispered. He tapped his hand in rhythm against your forearm, “Can you tap with me?”

You trembled as you weakly tapped your hand against his. You put all your energy towards focusing on the heavy pounding of his heart. Your sobs slowly subsided.

“Good. Now can you breathe with me?” JJ’s raspy voice soothed you.

You nodded and mimicked his deep breaths, focusing on the feeling of his chest expanding and shrinking in over and over again.

Your chest heaved as the tears finally stopped rushing down your face. Your whole body ached and your head felt like it could explode. But the feeling of JJ’s bated breath against your skin and his arms wrapped around you was a safe haven you had never felt before.

“How’s your head?” he mumbled against you, rocking your body in a soothing manner.

“Hurts," you whispered back.

“I know,” he sighed.

Guilt tugged at your heartstrings. You had momentarily forgotten that JJ could feel every bit of physical and emotional pain you were in.

“Please let me get you out here, Y/N. We can go back to my house,” Kate’s soft tone snapped you back to reality.

Your puffy eyes fluttered open to meet your friend’s concerned gaze. Kate was knelt beside you and JJ on the sand, cautious not to get too close in fear of upsetting you again. Topper stood behind her, his lips pulled taut at the scene before him.

You averted your gaze to the ground and you subconsciously gnawed on your bottom lip. Your predicament with JJ was painfully obvious, and you knew you had a lot of explaining to do. But that would have to wait for another day.

“Y/N?” Kate questioned softly.

You gave your friend a weak nod.

JJ moved to unwrap his arms from you, but you tightened your grip, unwilling to lose his touch just yet. He sighed and looked up at the two Kooks. His gaze hardened at the sight of Topper, but he knew it wasn’t the time or place to pick a fight.

“I’ll carry her to your car,” JJ’s voice was gruff.

Kate and Topper shared a look, but nodded.

You wrapped your arms around JJ’s neck as he released one arm from your tight grip to slide underneath your legs, carefully lifting you from the ground. You closed your tired eyes to avoid the watchful glances of the rest of the Pogues. You rested your head against his chest as he carried you through the sand away from the crowd of the party.

“I’m sorry," you whispered so quietly you were surprised JJ heard you.

His grip tightened slightly, “I’m sorry.”

His shaky voice made you shrink further into his hold.

You reluctantly peeled your eyes open as he approached Topper’s Range Rover. Kate swung the backseat door open and JJ carefully lowered you inside the vehicle. You flinched at the feeling of the cool leather seat against your skin. Your watery eyes met JJ’s, which were swimming with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. He reluctantly unwrapped his arms from around you, and you fought the urge to pull him back.

“Get back safe, okay?” he whispered.

You nodded, and your heart dropped as he moved away. You watched longingly as he averted his gaze to the ground. You sucked in a breath as he shut the door, and your vision was flooded with the darkness of the tinted window. As Topper started the engine and pulled the car out of the parking lot, you could feel the distance between you and JJ grow with each passing second.

The urge to jump out and run after him was strong. But your fatigue was even stronger. You fluttered your eyes shut and relented to your tired body, letting yourself slip from consciousness.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank smut #outer banks #jj maybank imagine #jj x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction

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therhythmafterthesummer · 1 year

Text

Alpha Dog (M) ~Bang Chan

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Fluff | Roomies to Lovers | Soulmate AU? 👀 Warnings: Chris’ POV, curvy/chubby MC, pet names, mentions and descriptions of werewolf mating cycles, mandatory Christopher is Intense™ warning (it’s even worse when you can read his thoughts), graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut). Word Count: ~17k sobbing | AO3 Summary: Chris had a dream since he was very young. He wanted to have a pack of his own, to build a safe space for people with views just like his. Once he managed to accomplish that, he would’ve never imagined that his next dream would arrive at his doorstep in a pretty sundress.

Author’s Note: i wanted to expand Chris’ character in this series of stories, so this monster was born ! i think it could actually be a good starter piece for my WereRoomies series, or, if anything, just a good read 🤭 if you’re reading this, hope you enjoy, and don’t hesitate to let me know what you think !

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Chris’ WereRoomies Instalments: It’s Cold Out · Rut · Alpha Dog · It’s Warm In · Love is Easy · Afraid to Lose You. For extra drabbles, check out the series masterlist.

Smut Warnings: thigh kink · possessiveness · a barely even present breeding kink · praising · oral [F.&M.Rec, but the M.Rec is not as detailed] · breast/nipple play · forced orgasm (F.Rec) · fingering [F.Rec] · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but reader is presumed to be on birth control] · cum eating · marking (as in, sucking love bites on someone’s skin) · intercrural · cumshot/cum on body. there’s just a lot going on i’m sorry or am i? 👀

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

Since the moment Chris gained his consciousness when he was very young, he knew what he was. It was impossible not to know, when the dynamic of his entire family was basically ingrained in his DNA.

Chris was a werewolf. His mother was a werewolf, his father was a werewolf, as were his grandparents, and they were all part of the same pack since his grandparents joined it before Chris’ parents were even born.

Chris’ childhood pack was big, consisting of several different blood-related families that were being led by the same alpha. Due to the numerous members of that pack, it felt like it was more of a closed off community than a family–especially considering members of the pack that weren’t blood related would often mate with each other. Even as he grew up, Chris felt as if these people weren’t really close to him, aside, of course, from his blood relatives and his best friend, Changbin.

It wasn’t as if they were all bad people, he just didn’t feel like he could be fully himself with the rest. They were often a bit close minded when it came to werewolf ‘traditions’, with deep desires to keep humans at bay, or turn them whenever it was suitable for the pack, whenever they saw fit, regardless of the human’s wishes. Some of them would even believe in the designation hierarchy–alphas over betas and omegas, always–which was something Chris never really understood, nor supported in any way.

Thankfully for him, his blood family was quite progressive compared to the rest of the pack, and even if the others looked down on them for it, his parents decided to socialise Chris with humans from a young age. They sent him to a human school, let him have human friends–with the only condition to not reveal anything about his lycanthropy or the pack to them–and that contact with the outside world simply highlighted the fact that all these archaic customs in the pack made absolutely no sense to him.

So when puberty hit him, and his alpha nature started to really settle in him, he knew that he wanted to start a pack of his own. A pack where no member would feel judged or held back by the rest, where everyone could be equal.

It wasn’t really that much of a surprise, honestly. His parents always knew he would be an alpha–based on how thick-headed he was and how he would often lead his group of peers from a young age–so when Chris told his mother about this desire of his, she immediately supported him.

His father took a bit longer to accept it, but eventually he simply understood. ‘It’s too late for us. This pack is our family, we’ve already accepted the good as well as the bad, but you’ll always be our son whether you’re a member of it or not’, which was enough acceptance for Chris.

So as soon as he was of age and he went to university, he broke ties off with his childhood pack, and for a couple of years, he was seemingly on his own.

Some people from his childhood pack would even try to ridicule him, to look down on him whenever they met him on the streets or whenever he went to visit his parents. Chris knew it was because they thought he was crazy for being out there on his own.

What they didn’t know was that he wasn’t really alone. He had Changbin and Jisung.

Before Chris left his childhood pack he told Changbin of his idea, of his goal of leading a pack of his own, and without missing a beat Changbin immediately told him he’d join him as soon as he was of age, as long as Chris wanted him. And of course Chris wanted Changbin in his pack, he was one of the few people he trusted more in this world.

Jisung was also a childhood friend, but he didn’t belong to the same pack Chris and Changbin did at the time. He became friends with them after his pack moved away from their previous den to form a new one in the same city Chris and Changbin grew up in. His parents enrolled him in the same school as them as soon as they settled, which was how the three of them met.

As it turned out, Jisung was also unhappy in his childhood pack, he was an omega, and much like Chris’ childhood pack, omegas were viewed as of lower status than any other designation, so he was often disregarded or even mistreated. And just like Changbin, as soon as Chris told Jisung of his future plans, Jisung also decided to join them when he was of age.

So while someone outside of Chris’ circle might’ve thought he was a lone wolf, a packless misfit, the reality was that he felt happier, more at ease while he waited for Changbin and Jisung to defect, than he ever did in his childhood pack. Two years wasn’t that long of a wait–considering that was the age gap between him and Changbin–so he decided to place his focus on his studies for those couple of years on his own.

Eventually, as the three of them grew up, Chris’ pack started to take more shape. Changbin was his obvious right hand, he had this sense of responsibility and protectiveness that made him a perfect second in command. However, Jisung never even entertained the possibility of being his left hand, because, in his words, ‘I’m not cut out for that, I’d get everyone starved or killed’, which was valid in Chris’ opinion, after all, it wasn’t really in his inherit nature to lead or protect others, quite the opposite actually, so Chris let it go without much of a fight.

Jisung did offer a candidate, though. A childhood friend of his, Minho, a human turned werewolf with no real pack of his own who had no real desire to lead, but was incredibly caring and protective, and, in Jisung’s words, someone who had a heart of gold.

As time went on, as they met more friends throughout their years at university, Chris’ pack grew. With the addition of Hyunjin, Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin his pack became a tight group of eight young werewolves who were simply trying to find their place in the world, a group of people who weren’t happy in the conditions they lived in before and wanted a change, a healthy environment.

Since then, Chris, Minho, and Changbin tried their absolute best to keep this safe, healthy ecosystem. And in Chris’ humble opinion, they were succeeding at that. Sure, they fought sometimes, just like any other family or pack or group of friends would, but things could always be solved one way or another. For once, Chris truly felt as if he was exactly where he was supposed to be, doing what he was supposed to do–what he wanted to do.

Aside from his supernatural condition, Chris always thought of himself as a simple man. When his mind wasn’t dominated by his wolf instincts, he’d just feel like any other dude out there. He liked to play computer games, he had friends he’d often hang out with–not only his packmates, but also people he’d met throughout his life–and he had a stable, decent paying job as a software engineer which he quite enjoyed. But he’d admit that sometimes, it felt as if something was missing… And that something was romantic love.

The topic of love and romantic relationships was quite tricky for him. He’d dated a few people in his life, but no one really seemed to stick for too long, either because he was always a bit too intense of a guy, or because they simply didn’t really understand his pack’s dynamic.

Oftentimes, especially when he dated a human, they just couldn’t really understand why his ‘friends’ were so important to him. He’d been told things from ‘you care more about your friends than you care about me’, to ‘it’s a bit weird how close you are. Y’all practically live together?’ They simply wouldn’t get it, and it wasn’t like he could reveal his condition to just anyone and explain, so those relationships would end as soon as the person showed any discomfort in regards to his pack, which was honestly for the best.

Then on the other side of the spectrum, when he dated other werewolves, it all often fell too much into the traditional dynamic of ‘you’re an alpha, I’m an XYZ, so we must be and do things this and this way’, and even if he tried to break those moulds a bit, it just wouldn’t work out.

So one day, right after another failed relationship, Chris decided to just… Let things flow. He was fine being single.

Did he have the intense need to pamper and take care of someone romantically? Yes. Did he have physical needs that he wished he could fulfil with the warmth of another person? Also yes. But he decided to bear it regardless. If he never found someone who understood him and his family dynamic then he was happy to die single. After all, his pack was, and would always be, his utmost priority.

He would’ve never imagined that it would all change once he finally realised he couldn’t live on his own.

In the very early stages of Chris’ pack, they had to decide where their den would be. Changbin’s parents were well off, they owned a handful of buildings throughout the city, so with a bit of convincing, they let Chris, Changbin, Jisung, and anyone that came after settle in one of their buildings at a discount price.

For a couple of years, the three of them lived in the same flat, but as more people joined Chris’ pack they kept rearranging themselves to get the best comfort, leaving Chris in a flat of his own, which was great at the beginning. He had his own space and privacy, and for a while, it was fine.

But when his grandparents passed away, leaving a huge house under Chris’ name, things changed. Between the expensive utility bills of his flat, and what he had to spend upkeeping his house in the woods, he just never had money to spare. He had to accept the fact that he needed a roommate, but everyone was already settled in their own living arrangements within the den, and he didn’t want to disrupt any of his packmates with this.

One day, during a phone call with his mother, Chris told her of this predicament of his, and she offered to help find a suitable roommate–as long as Chris wanted her help, of course.

He trusted his mother’s judgement, so he agreed, and next time she came to visit him, it looked like this woman had seen an angel come down from the heavens, because her face was glowing, and she exclaimed the most overly excited ‘Oh, honey! I got the perfect candidate. Remember my coworker’s daughter I always talk to you about?’

How could he not remember her coworker’s daughter when his mother tried to bring her up at least once whenever he came to visit? Of course he remembered you. His mother had met you a few times, always described you as a ‘beautiful, sensible, young woman’, and honestly sometimes Chris wondered if she was trying to set him up, especially when she’d conveniently mention how ‘you really need someone like that in your pack, pup… A sensible, caring figure would do you all some good, especially a female one. There are just too many males at your den, I don’t know how you get anything done…’

It honestly didn’t surprise him that much for her to say that, she was surrounded by incompetent males all the time, always had to pick up their messes, so she’d gotten quite radical on the importance of female figures… Chris just didn’t really care about the gender of his roommate or his packmates at all, so he decided to follow through with her suggestion.

Apparently, you had been looking to move out of your mother’s house, or that was what your mother told Chris’ mother, so considering you were someone his mother already knew who seemed to be nice enough, he said fuck it and told his mother to give you his number, requesting for her to ‘not get too excited. I just need a roommate, mum. For all I know she might not even integrate well, maybe she’d hardly ever be home… Relax, I’m not getting married, jeez…’ Which his mother honestly didn’t look too convinced about.

He expected nothing of it, really. He wasn’t even sure if you’d call, but a few days after he had that conversation with his mother, you finally called, and you both arranged a time for you to come visit so you could see the place for yourself.

He was, admittedly, a bit nervous, mostly because he didn’t want to make his condition known, or to make you uncomfortable in any way. After all, he was just an unknown man you were coming to meet and possibly live with.

When the day finally came, the moment Chris opened his door and met you he realised three things:

One, that you smelt like flowers. And not in a perfume way, more like in your natural scent way. Everyone had a different scent, it was typically more noticeable to him in other werewolves than humans, but humans most definitely had a scent, and you smelt just like freshly picked flowers.

Two, that you had a smile that could easily outshine the sun. When you smiled your cheeks would round up, and your eyes would disappear, and it was just such an endearing gesture it was hard for him not to focus on it.

And three, that you had the most scrumptious body he had ever seen.

Chris often prided himself on being a rational being, with a lot of self-control even for someone with a condition just like his, but as soon as he took in the shape of your body, it was almost as if he could feel his human mind short circuit and hear his inner wolf howling in desire.

He’d never been much of having a ‘type’ when it came to his partners, at least not physically. Sure, there were certain attributes he preferred, but in the grand scheme of things he’d fancied people with all different types of looks. That day, though, as he struggled to make coherent sentences and act normal while he showed you the place, Chris realised–quite puzzled, he might add–that maybe he did have a type, and maybe that type was you.

“So, this is the living room… As I mentioned on the phone, my friends often come to watch movies or just hang out. Don’t worry, though, they’re good people and very respectful. But I could totally understand if that’s something you can’t deal with”, why did you wear a sundress? Sure, it was starting to get hot out, but did you even realise how good that dress looked on you? You must’ve, there was no way you didn’t know how good you looked… Would you notice how hard he was trying not to look at your cleavage? He hoped you didn’t.

“If they truly are as nice as you say I don’t think I’ll mind, to be honest… If I move in I’d just… Prefer if they didn’t enter my room, I guess? Other than that I don’t mind”, you sounded genuine when you said it, and that did ease Chris’ worries a bit.

He took his sweet time showing you the place, the bathroom, what would be your bedroom if you moved in, even his bedroom, the kitchen, the pantry, the laundry room… All as an easy conversation flowed between you two, all as he struggled massively to not focus on the movement of your hips when you walked, to not focus on the sudden impulse he had to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you close.

Stop being a creep, Christopher… She’s a person. A person with feelings, stop being a creep… He repeated to himself every time he caught his eyes wandering, and for the most part, he was succeeding. At least, until you sat down on one of the kitchen stools and crossed one leg over the other, making the hem of your dress rise a bit, exposing the skin of your thighs.

This must be a test, he reasoned with himself.

The universe was trying to test his self-control by presenting you to him, all pretty, kind, and with the softest looking thighs he had ever seen. Chris could feel his hands literally itching with need, wondering if you’d feel as soft all over as you looked, but he quickly shoved all these thoughts as deep as he could within himself, focusing instead on the things you were telling him.

You were so nice. Just as his mother had told him, you seemed to be very sensible, very down to earth, and those traits made it so he had no reservations about having a human like you living with him. Sure, Chris knew it would be difficult to keep his condition hidden, but regardless of that immediate reaction he had to your presence, there was just something in the back of his mind telling him that having you here would be good for him and his pack, so he decided to follow that gut instinct, telling you you could move in whenever, and in a week’s time, you did.

It was honestly a bit odd at first. Chris had been living on his own for a while, and sure, his packmates would often drop by and stay over, but having an unfamiliar scent at home was certainly weird the first couple of weeks. Even then, he’d admit it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. If anything, it just added a bit of life to the otherwise silent–and sometimes lonely–space.

You quickly got acquainted with his friends, Chris supposed it was hard for you not to when they spent so much time coming to his flat, and somehow you never really seemed to question it. At one point, you even adopted their mannerisms.

Chris’ pack was very affectionate, he’d be the first one to admit it. Pet names were a constant thing among the pack, cuddling was a must, and even if you still didn’t know about their condition, you simply accepted their loving, overly affectionate behaviour as the norm, and even embraced it.

The fact that Chris and his friends were werewolves was something he had decided was best for you not to know, at least not from the get-go. He told his packmates he just didn’t see the need, that it could be dangerous–in reality, he just didn’t want to spook you. He feared that the moment you found out of their lycanthropy you’d leave, and even if he wasn’t sure why, he just didn’t want that to happen, so he would often conveniently dance around the truth whenever their condition was involved.

A month after you moved in, Felix suggested to have a movie night, simply saying ‘we haven’t had one in a while, and I could really use one to unwind!’ It had been a really long week for Chris, too, and he figured it’d be a good way to include you in their communal activities. So, as it was customary, those who wanted to join would come to Chris’ flat.

It was just Felix, Changbin, Seungmin, you, and Chris that night, the rest of his packmates had other things to do, so they had to skip it, which maybe was for the best, that way all of you wouldn’t have to cram on the sofa.

Felix had promised to bring a big box of macarons from his workplace, and he delivered. The box was filled to the brim with an assortment of different flavours–not an elegant presentation by any means, and some of them got crushed on the way, but that wouldn’t stop any of them from devouring each and every cookie.

When he placed it on the kitchen counter and opened it, Chris spotted the pink ones immediately. They were his favourite, but there were only a handful of them in the entire box, to which Felix gave him an apologetic smile, a ‘there just weren’t enough by the end of my shift’, and a shrug when Chris looked at him with a sad pout on his lips.

Chris took popcorn-making duties, and by the time it was ready and in its designated bowls, the vacuums he had for packmates had somehow eaten almost every single pink macaron, leaving only one in the box. He saw the scene play in slow motion as you made your way into the kitchen and reached for that last cookie.

Chris liked to give things to people, he really did, but that pink macaron had been holding together his last shred of sanity that day, so he acted quickly, snatching it out of the box and giving you a “nuh-uh, cutie. This one’s for me”.

“Aw, Chris!” You tried to reach for it, but he held it over your head, as far away from your grabby hands as he could. “C’mon! Those are so good!”

“I know they’re good! That’s why I want it”, he chuckled, pulling it further away from your reach when you tried to grab it again.

“Don’t be mean, babe”, you were pouting and everything, which had his heart clenching a bit, but you didn’t need to know that. He had to stay strong so he could have this delicious treat. “Give it to me?”

“Say please and maybe I’ll consider it”, he wasn’t going to consider it, which was why he had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. This was his strawberry macaron that he desperately needed, just the thought of the sugary cookie melting in his mouth had him already salivating.

However, Chris realised very quickly how ill-prepared he was for the situation he’d put himself in the moment you took a step closer to him, taking a hold of his hand that had been limp by his side, caressing the back of it with your thumb as you looked him right in the eyes with that pout on your lips.

“Please, baby… I really want it. I’ll bring you some tomorrow. Promise”, you brought your free hand to your heart, making a cross over it to emphasise that promise. “Please?”

For a second, he froze. His arm was getting tired from holding the stupid cookie over your head, and he dumbly stared at your face, shifting his focus from your lips to your eyes a few times. Did you… Did you know how cute you looked? Were you doing it on purpose? You must’ve known, right?

As soon as Chris started to feel his heart thump aggressively in his chest, he realised he had–very stupidly–walked himself into a corner. He had lost, and, in a poor attempt to not let you know how fast you had disarmed him, he sighed–rather dramatically–in what he hoped came across as annoyance.

“Alright, you can have it”, he brought the macaron down and held it to your lips. “But you’ll seriously have to buy me some tomorrow, yeah?”

The smile that came to your face made his heart skip a beat, and the second you took the macaron between your lips, lightly brushing his fingers in the process, Chris could’ve sworn his heart stopped completely.

Before he could even register the movement, you had moved closer, suddenly pressing a quick, loud kiss to his cheek, muttering a ‘you’re the best, darling. I’ll bring you at least two dozen tomorrow!’ before you walked away and left the kitchen to join Seungmin and Felix on the sofa.

It all happened so fast, Chris could feel his skin burn where you had kissed him, and he realised too late that it was because he was blushing. Blushing! Why was he blushing? How dared his cheeks betray him this way?

“Dude…” Chris’ head snapped in the direction of Changbin’s voice, where he was looking at him from the other side of the kitchen counter, with the most insufferable grin on his face.

“Don’t”, Chris grumbled as he lifted a finger in Changbin’s direction, which only made Changbin’s grin widen. Grabbing the biggest bowl of popcorn, Chris decided to ignore his friend’s teasing eyes completely, finally leaving the kitchen to place the bowl on the coffee table and sit his ass as far away from you as possible. He could still feel his face burn, which made it all so much worse.

That night, after everyone left, after you retreated to your room and Chris was finally able to lay in bed, completely alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t stop thinking about that moment.

About the way your eyes were almost sparkling when he told you you could have the damn cookie, about the look of delight on your face when he fed it to you, about the damn kiss… It was all just a friendly gesture, really. You were just being nice, like you always were, but as his mind recounted the moment in an endless loop, he eventually realised that all those things he felt the day he saw you for the first time had just been warning signs.

He tried to push all these thoughts to the back of his mind again. You were his roommate. His human roommate who had no idea what Chris and his friends were. It was stupid of him to think about you as anything other than that, and yet, the more he interacted with you, the more time passed of you living with him at his den, the harder it became to ignore what he felt, especially whenever you went out on dates.

His logical, human side always tried to brush off the fact that you were dating people. After all, sometimes, you did come back home looking happy, as if you even had fun, which was a good thing. But his idiotic, wolf side just hated whenever you came home smelling like other men. He couldn’t–and wouldn’t–stop you because of it, of course. That would’ve been absolutely insane of him to do, but one day, when he saw your laundry hanging on the drying rack he just couldn’t help himself…

Chris figured scenting your clothes wouldn’t hurt, right? You wouldn’t notice… And other people might not even notice, either, but he just wanted you to come home and still smell like him, and frequently, that worked. He’d admit he even grew a bit more shameless about it as time went on, hugging you or kissing your forehead before you left the house to leave his scent on you–something you never really questioned, either.

Whenever his pack members commented on it, Chris simply told them it was for protection, to keep you safe from other wolves–he wasn’t sure if they believed him, considering they wouldn’t stop teasing him about it every time they could…

By the fourth month of you living here, he was sure he had mastered the art of Ignoring His Feelings.

He would still scent your clothes, especially on nights like this one, where you were going on a date with some guy. But other than that he was doing an excellent job at not thinking about you in any ways other than platonic–or at least, that was what Chris tried to tell himself.

Truth was, he still had those impulsive thoughts from time to time. Soft. Nice. Pretty…

He would quickly stop his train of thought whenever he caught himself, disregarding the almost instinctual way his hands flexed whenever he looked at you. Tonight, before you left, he tried his best to absolutely ignore the dress you were wearing and how good you looked in it, and how it hugged your curves so nicely, and the way your thighs looked in those tights… Would he ever be able to touch them? Squeeze them? Maybe even kiss–

The sudden sound of growls startled him, breaking his train of thought. Chris chuckled, amused by the way Hyunjin, Jisung, and Jeongin chased their tails while running in circles in the middle of his living room. “What the hell are you even doing?”

“They’re trying to see who can catch his tail faster”, Felix replied simply, taking a sip of the soda in his hand, slinging an arm over Chris’ shoulders.

“You’re gonna hurt yourselves. Stop that”, Minho grumbled from the kitchen, where he and Seungmin prepared snacks for the night.

Among the growls coming from the three spinning wolves, and the constant talking between the rest, Chris failed to hear the sound of the front door opening. It took him a second too late to be hit by the smell of your floral scent, and by the time he had registered it and jumped to his feet from where he had been slouching on the sofa, it was too late.

You stood wide eyed by the hall, looking between the three wolves in the middle of the living room. For a second, everyone froze, looking in your direction, and before Chris could even say anything, he stared in horror as Jeongin started to shift back into his human form.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Jeongin had the nerve to say to you, as if he wasn’t buttnaked, as if he hadn’t just shapeshifted right in front of your eyes.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times. Your gaze shifted from the two wolves and Jeongin to everyone else in the room, landing on Chris last. He saw your hands tremble a bit, and, in an instant, before he could even register the movement, you were bolting out the door.

Chris immediately sprung into action, chasing you, calling for you. “Wait!”

You weren’t supposed to be here. You had a date. You were even prepared in case you wouldn’t even come back tonight, or, at least, that was what you told Chris before you left earlier that day. Panic brewed quickly inside of him, he really couldn’t let you go like this.

Chris caught up to you on the stairs, right on the landing between one floor and the other. Taking a hold of your elbow, he tugged you back before you kept going on your way. “Wait! Listen–”

“What the fuck?!” You tried to pry yourself away. In a different circumstance, Chris would’ve let you go on the spot, but this was no ordinary situation, so he simply tightened his hold, keeping you in place and within reach. Your eyes widened, and he saw immediately the exact moment you realised the extent of his strength.

“Listen to me. It’s not–”

“Don’t you dare say that!” Your eyes frantically roamed his face, and the combination of confusion and fear he could see in your eyes made his heart clench. “What does it look like, then?! Huh, Christopher?!”

Chris opened and closed his mouth a few times, but the words wouldn’t come out. What should he say? That what you saw wasn’t real? That you must’ve misinterpreted it all? That would’ve been the right thing to do, wouldn’t it? But as he looked into your eyes, he just couldn’t find it in him to lie to you.

“I just saw Jeongin’s body twist and turn in ways I would’ve never even imagined were possible!” Your lower lip was trembling slightly, the words that came out of your mouth were unsteady, and your scent was starting to tint with what Chris could only define as panic, which in turn was making him panic. “What the fuck was that about?! What are you people?”

“I– We–” The words just wouldn’t come out of his mouth. He should’ve had a plan for this, it was only a matter of time for you to find out their little secret, but he truly hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

Upon his unresponsiveness, you tried to pull yourself away from him again, and Chris couldn’t help but tighten his hold on your arm in response. He hadn’t meant to, but he was going into fight or flight and his body seemed to be trying its absolute best to keep you from leaving.

You winced, and the grimace on your face started the alarm bells in his head. “Chris… Please. It hurts”.

Chris let go of your arm as if it had caught on fire, and when you brought your other hand to soothe the area he had been holding onto, when he saw that look of discomfort on your face, he couldn’t help but feel incredibly guilty.

He’d failed you.

He hurt you, he failed you, and the amount of distress that realisation brought him was quickly taking a hold of each and every single one of his nerve-endings.

“God, I’m so sorry”, Chris took a step back, avoiding your eyes entirely. “So, so sorry… I didn’t mean–”

“What are you, Chris?” Your voice trembled again, but it didn’t seem like you’d run away.

With a deep intake of breath, Chris tried to find the courage to look you in the eyes again. “I’m… I’m a werewolf”.

You blinked, looking him up and down, looking at him like he had three heads. “A… A werewolf?”

“Mm… Only Jeongin shifted when he saw you, probably out of stress or because he panicked… The three wolves… It was Hyunjin, Jisung, and Jeongin. We’re all werewolves”.

“Werewolves… As in… Half human, half wolf? Like in fairy tales?” You sounded genuinely incredulous, and Chris couldn’t blame you.

He shrugged, tucking his hands in his short’s pockets, looking away from you again, fixing his gaze on the floor. “They’re not just fairy tales. There’s a whole world of creatures out there you don’t even know about, but it’s there”.

“Can’t believe this…” You muttered to yourself, threading your fingers through your hair, tugging the strands between your fingers.

“You… You can’t tell anyone–”

“Who the hell would I tell?!” You chuckled, a chuckle that lacked any semblance of amusement, and it made him wince.

You both stayed in silence, neither of you sure on what to say to the other. Until finally, you heaved a sigh, turning to continue your walk down the stairs. “Werewolves… This is all madness…”

“Wait–!”

“Don’t!” You whipped your face in Chris’ direction. Your hands were shaking. Actually, it looked like your entire body was shaking. “Don’t follow me”, was the last thing you told him, and he would never forget the look in your eyes that day, completely lost, void of your usual shine.

Chris just stood there for a moment, listening to the quick clack clack clacks of your heels as you walked the steps, until he finally heard the main door of the building opening and eventually slamming closed. He could feel his heart ache, just the memory of the tone of your voice and that look in your eyes made his heart race for all the wrong reasons.

Chris was at a loss, unable to comprehend how it all got out of hand so quickly. He should’ve known, this was bound to happen eventually, they couldn’t keep hiding from you forever. But what he hadn’t expected was the feeling of utter dejection the entire exchange brought him.

After a few minutes, when Chris was back in his flat, with the seven pairs of eyes staring worriedly at him, he realised he had to get a grip.

“Chris, I’m sorry. It’s my fault–” Jeongin started, looking absolutely ashamed, but Chris stopped him immediately.

“Don’t worry about it. She was going to find out eventually”, he was honestly proud at how even his voice was coming out of his mouth, and he hoped his packmates couldn’t feel the weird emotional state he was in. He shot Minho and Changbin a quick look, and they seemed to catch onto his signal fairly quickly–if the way they stiffened was anything to go by. “You guys go on. I’m… Tired. I’ll just be in my room, Yeah?”

No one seemed to question it, for which Chris was grateful. He needed some time alone to think, but even then the presence of his packmates just out of his door did comfort him a bit.

You were gone for a long while after that. The mood of the pack had almost reached the core of the planet by how low it was, but admittedly, Chris had taken the biggest blow. Eventually, everyone noticed, but no one other than Minho talked to him about it. ‘She’ll come around, I’m sure’, he told Chris one day, but it was hard for him to believe those words when he could still get a phantom of the panic in your scent whenever he was on his own.

You didn’t tell her in time. You hurt her. You failed her… His brain wouldn’t stop nagging him day and night. He tried to convince himself that there was no need for him to feel the way he did, that these things happened sometimes, but he knew it wouldn’t be that easy, he had to make it up to you somehow.

He tried to text you, a ‘hey… how’re you’ that you didn’t reply to. The rest of the pack tried to as well, explaining as much as they could, but you also didn’t reply to them. No one had been able to get a hold of you, and Chris was just losing all hope.

Until seven days after the entire thing the sound of a key going into his front door’s keyhole startled him, pumping adrenaline through his system, making him jump out of his bed. By the time you were opening the door and stepping into the flat Chris was already coming out of his room, looking at you.

“So…” You cleared your throat once you closed the door behind you, dropping your keys in their designated bowl on the bureau, and crossing your arms over your chest. “Werewolves?”

Chris nodded, staying rooted on the spot, afraid any movement he made would scare you in any way. “Werewolves”.

“Does it… Does it hurt when you shift?” Out of all the things you could’ve asked, that wasn’t exactly what Chris thought you’d ask first, not after being away for so long, but he decided to answer regardless. There was no point in hiding it now, the cat–or should he say, the wolf…–was already out of the bag.

He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest as well. “It’s not comfortable, but it doesn’t really hurt hurt”.

“Mmm…” You stayed silent for a bit, until your eyes found Chris’, and you took a step closer. “So… You guys are like… A pack? A pack of wolves?” Chris simply nodded in response, and since he didn’t say anything else, you continued. “Why would you even let me move in?”

“You’re nice”, Chris replied immediately, maybe a bit too fast. But it was the truth, so he felt like saying it. “Very nice. At the time it just… Made sense to me”.

“So, you’re like… Their leader? What’s it called… Alpha?”

Chris chuckled. “Where did you even get this from? But yes, I’m the alpha of the pack”.

“It’s amazing what you can find on the Internet these days”, you shrugged. “Did you ever even have intentions of telling me all this? Did you lie to me about anything else?”

Chris shook his head. “No, we… We’re exactly the same people you met. The fact that we are what we are was the only thing I didn’t…” Chris sighed. “Honestly? I wanted to tell you. But I was… A bit scared you’d get spooked and leave”.

“You don’t want me to leave?” You sounded genuinely incredulous, and it puzzled him.

“‘Course not”, Chris said it like it was the most logical thing in the world. In reality, it wasn’t. You were a human, a human living in a werewolf den. It seemingly didn’t make sense, but to Chris, somehow, it made all the sense in the world. “Do you want to leave?”

You looked at him for a moment. Chris held his breath, watching you closely once you finally moved, coming towards him.

Tentatively, you walked into his space, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close to you. As soon as your scent engulfed him fully, his body reacted almost on its own, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you close, and heaving an almost involuntary sigh of relief.

“I don’t”, you mumbled against his shoulder, and the way your lips brushed his bare skin had his ears heating up. He should’ve put on a t-shirt before he left his room to meet you… “You guys… Are really nice, too”.

Chris hummed, hugging you a bit tighter for a while, for as long as you’d let him. Eventually, you were speaking again.

“So… If I’m staying at this werewolf den, does that mean you’re my alpha, too?”

Chris was glad you were not a werewolf. If you had been you would’ve heard how quickly his heart started to beat when you said that. The mere idea that you’d call him your alpha awoke something in him. Something he couldn’t unpack right here right now with you in his arms.

You clearly didn’t know what that meant, you just made a logical assumption based on the little information you probably had, but if he ever heard you call him your alpha out loud he was sure he’d explode. So he decided to reach a middle ground, innocuous enough you wouldn’t be able to tell how much he was struggling with this.

“Only–” His voice betrayed him, coming out of his mouth a bit strained. So he cleared his throat, trying to act normal. “Only if you’re a member of the pack, I suppose”.

“Am I?” You asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“If… If you want. Being a member of the pack… Entitles many things. if you’re willing to abide by those things then of course you can”.

You hummed, burying your face further in the crook of his neck.

“For what is worth, I… Already see you as one. It’s been that way for a while, actually”, Chris could’ve sworn he heard your heart start beating a bit faster after he said that, and in turn his heart started to beat faster in his chest.

“Oh?” You pulled away from his neck, finding his gaze, looking him straight in the eyes. “So I’m under the big bad wolf’s protection, huh?”

Chris huffed out an incredulous laugh, amused by your choice of words, but he couldn’t help himself when the following words came out of his mouth. “Well, I’m not doing a good job at that, am I?”

You frowned. Smooth it out. Make her smile, his instincts told him, once again pushing to the front of his mind those impulses he so desperately tried to ignore.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I mean…” Chris suddenly couldn’t hold your gaze, but the way his eyes decided to focus on your mouth were certainly not making it any easier. Plump, soft, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss–stop. Focus… “The day you left, on the stairs… I hurt you. I didn’t mean to, and I shouldn’t have. I’m incredibly sorry”.

You went quiet for a moment, your eyes flickering between his, looking at him so intensely Chris could feel heat start to creep on the back of his neck, suddenly aware of how close you were. Finally, you inhaled sharply.

“I forgive you”.

Chris blinked, and his brows furrowed. “But–”

“What do you mean ‘but’?” You chuckled, untangling your arms away from his neck to cradle his face in your hands instead. “You apologised, and I accept your apology. Honestly, it was barely anything. I… Understand what you were trying to do. In the four months I’ve been living here you have never hurt me, not even made me feel uncomfortable, Chris. This is all insane, completely nuts, and I’m warning you right now, I’m gonna be super annoying about it, but I trust you. All of you. But you especially”.

At that moment, Chris pulled himself away from you entirely, hopefully before you noticed how quickly his cheeks were flushing, making his way into the living room and rambling on about how you could ask him anything you wanted and offering you dinner from what he had prepared that night for himself.

It seemed like you took a lot of interest in their condition after that.

‘So that’s why you’re so warm?’

‘That’s why y’all leave once a month? To run under the full moon, seriously?’

‘Can you eat chocolate?’

‘Would you show me your wolf form?’

‘What’s a knot?’

You were really curious, maybe a bit too much. Chris was more than happy to answer your questions, but when you started to ask about mating, and knots, and ruts, and heats, he’d admit he got a little flustered–maybe embarrassingly so. Mostly because, whenever you so much as mentioned anything that got too into the topic of sex, he’d just get waves and waves of improper thoughts. He’d wonder too much, he’d start getting worked up as if he was a fucking teenager who’d never touched a person in his life, so he tried to avoid those questions whenever he could.

The rest of the pack welcomed you back with open arms. They liked you before, but now that you knew their secret, it was almost as if something flipped in the way they interacted with you.

The first time one of them called you ‘mum’, Chris almost dug himself a Christopher-sized hole and buried himself alive. It was Seungmin who started the entire thing, because of course it was, Seungmin loved to see him struggle the most, clearly. And when you asked Chris about it, he simply told you the rest of the pack started to see you as a person they could lean on–which was half of the truth, he would’ve been caught dead before admitting to you that they were rubbing in his face how absolutely smitten he was.

He knew it before, of course. How he felt. Even if he tried to ignore it, if he tried to pretend it was all an instinctual thing because he had a pretty girl living with him, there was no way he could lie to himself for much longer. The moment you found out of their lycanthropy and you decided to stay and help, instead of running away in fear, he just couldn’t deny it any longer.

Sometimes, it felt as if the universe had taken all these qualities he could’ve ever needed in his life, all these qualities he hadn’t even realised he yearned for, and put them all in a person, put them all in you and threw you at his doorstep in a pretty sundress, as if to say ‘here, this is the one. Good fucking luck’. Honestly, in retrospect, Chris stood no chance. There was no way he wouldn’t have developed feelings for you.

Regardless of how he felt, he tried his best to be respectful, to not make you uncomfortable in any way. He really did try his best, but by heaven and hell if there weren’t moments where he almost risked it all…

Chris could still remember the first time he saw you wearing a pair of leggings. The stretchy material hugged your lower limbs so perfectly it didn’t exactly leave much to the imagination… The sight of the fabric stretched over your perfectly round bottom and your big thighs almost broke down all those protective walls he had decided to put between you and him–especially when the very first thought he had as soon as he saw you on them was to bend you over the kitchen counter, rip the thing to pieces, and dive face first into your cunt from behind.

He couldn’t help but feel guilty every time he had those thoughts about you. In his mind, you just didn’t deserve that, for some horny creep to be secretly looking at you and thinking all these lewd, dirty things about you, but the more time passed, the more he got to know you, those thoughts became more and more frequent. And the most painful part of it all wasn’t just the undeniable sexual aspect of it all.

Chris often wanted to talk to you about anything and everything, to hold you, kiss you, feed you, cuddle you, just overall take care of you, and that feeling only intensified as soon as you started to take care of his packmates, as soon as you inadvertently fell fully into the position of pack parent right next to him for real. Sure, the rest of the pack members looked up to you to some degree, and they often called you mum to tease him, but he hadn’t truly grasped the extent of it all.

Chris hadn’t noticed that was what was happening at first, but one day, he saw as you took care of a sick Seungmin so attentively it just hit him like a ton of bricks.

You were so perfect for that role in his pack, and the fact that you were doing all those things, without even being romantically involved with him made him feel both warm with love and pained with longing. He knew then that you were supposed to be there next to him, with him, but that was something he couldn’t push on you, not when it didn’t seem like you were feeling the same things towards him in the slightest.

Or at least, that was what Chris tried to tell himself, to delude himself into not overstepping those boundaries between you two. The reality was that, sometimes, Chris thought he might’ve had a chance.

Times when he hugged you tight and he could hear your heartbeat pick up its pace, or when you sent him silly memes that you thought he’d find funny, or times when you teased him, almost, almost as if you were flirting with him, or whenever you took interest in his lycanthropy, or…

He often recalled very fondly how you would snuggle into him whenever you fell asleep on the sofa while watching a movie with him. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, he’d wake up with you in his arms, with your head tucked under his chin. Those times, he’d always pretend to be asleep for as long as he could, selfishly enjoying your warmth until you eventually woke up, gave him a kiss on the cheek with a racing heart, and mumbled sleepy apologies before retreating to your room. He’d tried to convince himself that you possibly feeling the same way was all wishful thinking, so he never truly entertained those thoughts.

Even then, there were things he just couldn’t stop himself from doing. At some point, scenting your clothes just wasn’t enough for him, so he started lending you articles of clothing of his–hoodies, mostly. He would’ve loved to see you wearing his t-shirts, or his bathrobe, but hoodies were a good enough compromise in his mind. He’d always give them to you whenever you showed any sign of feeling even remotely chilly, and he soon realised that that need of having you wrapped in his scent only grew bigger the closer his rut was.

The first rut Chris went into after you moved in was, quite honestly, insane. He was able to recognise the signs early enough to leave the flat he shared with you and stay at one of the vacant ones in the building, and when it finally hit him, it hit him hard. He didn’t think he’d had such a painful rut in his life–aside from the first one, which to this day he was sure was the perfect representation of what being in hell would feel like.

Logically, he could’ve asked a friend to help him out. It was always best to deal with these things with another person there, but, somehow, the mere thought of being with someone like that after he realised his feelings for you was… Really unpleasant, so he decided to bear it on his own.

During that rut, all his inner wolf wanted was to have you. Your scent plagued his mind, the mental image of you and your thighs and your soft body had him with his fist around his cock the entire time, but it was never enough. He yearned to pleasure you, to taste you, to make you come undone for him as many times as he could, to have you in every possible way he could, to pump you full of his cum and breed you, and the fact that he couldn’t do that had him in both physical and emotional pain.

The worst part was that Chris felt like shit not only because whenever he was able to orgasm it didn’t seem to quench his desires a single bit, but also because he was thinking of you in such a way again. At the time, he was so desperate he could hardly think about it, but as soon as his rut subsided he had this immense guilt plaguing him. So much so he wasn’t able to look you in the eyes for a week straight after, so he swore he would try his best to never break your trust like that ever again.

And for a handful of months, it worked. He’d still share his hoodies with you, still have the need to hug you, and touch you, and take care of you, but whenever his mind drifted too much he’d give himself a reality check. She’s your roommate. Your friend. You’re more than just a horny dog, Christopher, he’d berate himself often, keeping his distance however he could.

It was hard sometimes, though. You’d taken this habit of looking him in the eyes… You used to do it before, too, but somehow it seemed different lately. Your gaze would linger on his for a few seconds longer than usual, enough to trigger his primal instincts, to make him want to assert his dominance–normally, that’d mean he’d want to physically fight for it, but with you, the only way his body wanted to assert his dominance was by bending you over and fucking you stupid, which didn’t help his case one bit.

It was incredibly silly of him to think that way whenever you looked him in the eyes for too long, considering that, even if you could, he just knew there was no way you’d challenge him for his position in the pack. So he’d always talk himself down of his instinctual reaction, reminding himself of who you were, of how he couldn’t let himself hurt you, or cross your boundaries in any way.

But his resolve crumbled a little over a year after you moved in, when Chris saw your freshly washed clothes messily sprawled on your bed while you were ovulating, almost as if you had prepared a pretty little nest for him to breed you in. That, coupled with the fact that you were wearing his clothes at the same time, triggered his already upcoming rut right then and there.

His mind clouded quickly, your floral scent filled every single crevice within him, making his alpha instincts kick in. Pleasure, dominate, breed, breed, breed… The words resonated repeatedly within him as he struggled to keep it together, to not jump you on the spot and do something he would regret, to not hurt you.

When he desperately tried to leave the flat, you just wouldn’t let him, you were clearly worried about him, and if there was one thing Chris had learnt about you was that it wasn’t in your nature to just ignore a friend in need. But God, you just smelt so good… It was getting increasingly harder to not act on his impulses.

You kept looking him in the eyes, and it wasn’t making it any easier, not when his instincts wouldn’t just shut the fuck up. Show her. Make her submit. Dominate, dominate, dominate…

‘Go lock yourself in your fucking room while I can still think and hold back’, he held to his last shred of sanity until the very last second, all while his humanity and his inner wolf fought for dominance over his actions during the entire interaction.

What he hadn’t expected, though, was for you to return his feelings, for you to want him. ‘What if I don’t want you to hold back?’

In a second, as soon as the words left your mouth, he finally let himself see, hear, and smell all the signs. Your flushed face, your heart thumping aggressively in your chest, the smell of your arousal lingering in the air… He simply snapped. The second you gave him your consent and he finally got a taste of you, Chris knew there was no going back for him. He was in deep.

He wouldn’t be able to get over the feeling of your lips on his, the sounds that came out of your mouth whenever he touched you, the smell of your scent laced with so much lust he was almost vibrating with excitement at the prospect of all the things he could do to you, of how good he’d make you feel.

‘Wanna be mine? Just say it, love, and I’ll make you mine. All mine’.

Claim, claim, claim… No, no claiming, Christopher. Too soon, too soon, that’s not what she needs right now…

‘Wanna be yours… Wanted to for so long, too’.

For so long, for so long, for so long… She’s mine, mine, mine, all for me…

Finally, Chris was able to let go of his inhibitions and fulfil all those desires and needs he’d had for the longest time. Not only was he able to quench his thirst with your essence on his tongue, or release all that tension that kept on building within him with the intoxicating feel of the soft skin of your inner thighs and the velvety walls of your cunt wrapped around his cock, but also he made you feel so much pleasure you were barely even able to talk and walk after he did. That simple fact had his chest swelling with pride, had him going through so many waves of his rut that by the fourth day of fucking you nonstop he could barely stand the tiniest movement around his cock.

Chris was being driven by both his emotional and physical needs the entire time, driven by his instincts to fulfil both his and your desires, but by the fourth night of his rut he had regained some of his human clarity back. It was just as you two were having a bath, as you took care of him, washing his hair–something no one had ever come remotely close to doing after he became an adult–that he came to a very important realisation.

Not only had you taken the time to understand him and the role he had within his pack, you’d taken the time to understand each and every single member in it, you supported them all in every way you could, and even though you were human, your body was able to take Chris in his most animalistic state. So it was right then, right as he looked at the soft, focused features of your face when you massaged his scalp, that he realised that the universe had really made you all for him, perfect just for him.

He’d said this to you time and time again throughout his rut, because it just felt right to say them, but only then did he realise how true it all was.

It wasn’t unheard of. It happened often in werewolves. Not to every single one, but it was often enough that he was able to connect the dots. It was said that there would always be someone out there that would be able to strengthen those areas a wolf might be lacking in. And for Chris, that someone was you.

Even when he woke up the next day, with his mind finally clear of his more animalistic impulses and desires, he knew that to be the truth.

It was a lot to take in, and if it was a lot for him who had been labelled Mr Intense several times throughout his life by both friends and partners, he was sure it would’ve been a lot for you, too. So he decided to file this for later, for it to be discussed when the time was right.

As it was now, he felt as if everything had been done backwards, so he had to start settling the foundations of a possible relationship with you–sure, you’d let him fuck you silly for four days straight, but what if you had been influenced by his pheromones? What if you realised you didn’t want him like that? That it’d be too much?

So he asked you out on a date, he wanted to take you to the seasonal fair, and to his delight–and maybe relief…–you accepted. It was almost comical how fast his heart would beat whenever you got close to him during that date, especially so considering he had already told you so many filthy, intimate things during his rut, but as you tugged him along to rides and games and food stalls, it all felt different to him somehow. More meaningful, perhaps.

That evening, when you were both walking back home, as Chris held your hand tightly in his, right under the seasonal lights that had been placed above the road, he just couldn’t help himself when he cradled your face and kissed you. A slow, sensual kiss that had his heart doing flips in his chest, and he simply revelled in the way you moved closer to him, in the way you held his coat tightly in your hands, in the way your lips moved against his.

A motion so natural he just couldn’t believe he hadn’t been doing this since the day he met you. When he pulled back, he asked you to be his girlfriend, and the moment you said yes, his heart soared, and he couldn’t help but feel incredibly giddy.

Now, Chris could hold you as much as he wanted, touch you as much as he wanted, he could tell you everything without having to measure his words, and he was so, so ready to enjoy every second of it. To enjoy every single second he’d spend with you–even more than he did before.

You were still sleeping in your bedroom, or at least, you did for the first few days after your date. That was fine by Chris, he had been making up for the lost time at work because of the ‘unexpected sick leave’ he had to take during his rut, so he was coming home late at night, barely even seeing your pretty face before he took a shower and dropped dead on his bed until the next day. It was best for you to sleep on your own so he wouldn’t disturb you. That was Chris’ reasoning.

At least, until tonight.

“Hey”, your voice made him look away from his phone and over his shoulder, finding you peeking your head from behind the door with a shy smile on your lips.

“Why are you up? You should be sleeping, love”, Chris turned, lying on his back and fixing his eyes on you.

“I missed you”, you replied simply, making your way into the room, your words effectively bringing heat to the back of his neck.

Chris let out a content sigh, watching you get on his bed and finally straddle his hips. His hands settled on your thighs, rubbing up and down in soothing motions. If only it weren’t so cold so you weren’t wearing these pyjama bottoms… They were cute, fluffy, with doughnuts printed all over them, but he selfishly wished he could feel your skin under his hands.

“Missed you, too. So much”.

You leaned into him, resting your entire body weight on him to press a kiss to his lips. Chris could definitely get used to this. To the feeling of you pressed against him, even with the duvet separating your bodies, he just loved feeling you close, especially when you kissed him so softly, so… Lovingly.

You’d been his girlfriend for a total of three days, it had been almost an entire week since the end of his rut, and you two hadn’t had sex since then. You’d told him you needed some time to recover, which was perfectly fine. Chris himself felt like he needed a short break as well, after all, getting back into his normal rhythm after a rut was always a process.

Besides that, though, your comfort was always his first priority, it had always been that way, but even more so now. He wanted to wait until you felt fine, until you were ready for it again.

Although, he’d admit it wasn’t particularly easy. Not when you looked Like That all the time and he just wanted to sink his teeth on your soft flesh any time he got the tiniest glimpse of your skin.

Sure, he was no longer in a rut, he was a coherent man, with coherent thoughts, completely capable of simply enjoying your presence without escalating any further than a hug or a kiss. But tonight, as his tongue made its way into your mouth, as your hips rolled against him, as his hands started to roam your back, only to settle on your rear to fondle the supple flesh, Chris was truly starting to feel ravenous, desperate to feel you, desperate to make you feel incredibly good.

“Chris, baby…” you mumbled against his lips, resuming your motions immediately after the words left your mouth, pressing pecks on his lips.

“Hm?” Chris took your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently, gripping your buttcheeks tighter, and the whimper that came out of your mouth almost, almost made him lightheaded with how fast blood rushed to his cock.

“Want you…”

Chris’ eyes snapped open, and he pulled away from you to look you in the eyes, finding your blown pupils and flushed cheeks. Beautiful, gorgeous, pretty… Swallowing, he brought a hand to your cheek, softly dragging his thumb over your skin. “Pretty… You sure? Are you feeling okay?”

“Mm”, with a hard roll of your hips to emphasise your statement, you pressed a brief kiss on his lips. “Positive. I’ve almost forgotten how you feel like inside me, baby. That’s a crime”.

Chris huffed an incredulous chuckle. “So soon? Damn, must’ve not fucked you enough, then”.

“Oh, you fucked me plenty. I just want more”, a grin spread on your lips, looking utterly shameless, and Chris would lie if he said it didn’t excite him.

“Greedy, huh?”

Before you could even attempt to bite back, Chris rolled to the side, taking you with him, effectively wrapping you in the duvet, like the most adorable burrito, and trapping you under him, eliciting a yelp from your lips with the movement.

“Not fair”, God, you shouldn’t be allowed to pout, it disarmed him way too quickly. Chris couldn’t help but peck your lips, as many times as necessary, until you started giggling.

“What? My pretty baby wants to be on top?” Chris placed a kiss on your cheekbone. Your skin was warm, soft, you smelt like your moisturiser and your floral scent, and he just absolutely loved it.

“Maybe”, you mumbled, sounding more distracted now that Chris’ lips had descended to your neck, now that he was kissing and nibbling your skin.

Your hands roamed his back, making him shiver, especially so when you dragged your fingers down his spine, finally reaching his bum, and confidently squeezing. “Why are you naked?” You chuckled, clearly amused, and Chris settled his weight on his elbows so he could look at your face better.

“I was already ready to sleep, baby. You know I sleep naked”.

“You do?” You laughed, and it made him smile. “I thought the kids were saying that just to mess with you”.

“Oh, they were messing with me”, Chris chuckled. “But they weren’t lying”.

“So… If we start sleeping together, you’d sleep naked, too?” You squeezed his buttcheek again, a bit harder this time. It was barely anything, but it was working him up way more than it should have, for sure. Chris was already hard and leaking just by your presence, by your warmth and your kisses, but even then the simple implication that you wanted to share a bed with him every night had his heart doing flips in his chest, had his cock twitching with need.

“Would you mind?” He pulled away from you enough to untangle the duvet away from your body. As soon as you were released, he tugged on your pyjama top, and you let him get it off of you immediately.

“Not one bit”, was all you replied, and Chris gave you a hum of acknowledgement just as he tugged your bottoms off.

He got, admittedly, a bit distracted. Of course you wouldn’t be wearing any underwear under your pyjamas, you were ready for bed already, but it still caught him off guard.

The marks he’d left on your body during his rut were starting to fade, and all he wanted right now was to mark you all over again. Did he have a problem? Maybe he did. As his hands made their way to cup your tits, squeezing them briefly only to finally settle on playing with your nipples, the sounds that were coming out of your mouth made it incredibly hard for him to care.

“How’re you this pretty, huh?” While Chris kept softly rolling your nipples between his fingers, your hands came to hold his wrists, gently rubbing his skin with your thumbs as you arched your back, moaning oh, so sweetly for him.

“Chris, babe…” Your hold on his wrists tightened, shifting Chris’ attention from your breasts to your eyes again. The smell of your arousal had him literally salivating, had him feeling like a hungry dog, ready to devour you whole, and when you dropped the most desperate ‘kiss me’ he couldn’t help but do just that, removing his hands from your chest to hug you close.

You whined as soon as his lips landed on yours, moulding to yours time and time again, eventually pushing his tongue inside your mouth, savouring you, swallowing every sigh and every whimper that fell from your lips. He kissed you for a while, enjoying the feeling of you holding him tightly, enjoying the way your heartbeat kept picking up its pace, until the slow, deep kisses turned messier, more eager, until he couldn’t ignore just how badly he wanted to have a taste of you.

As he started his descent down your torso, kissing your clavicle, your chest, sucking your nipple into his mouth to play with the hardened bud for a bit with his tongue, he couldn’t help his hands from roaming your body. Your thighs, your hips, your sides, anywhere he could reach.

His fingers sunk on your flesh, eliciting quiet whimpers from your mouth, just as he kept licking the pebbled skin of your nipples and your hardened buds. Chris just really couldn’t help himself from kneading and squeezing your skin, tracing every dip, every roll, every curve, until his mouth finally resumed its path further down your body.

“Baby…” You mumbled once Chris’ mouth attached to your lower belly, nipping and kissing and sucking on your skin, making you squirm.

“Hm?” Chris would admit he was only partially listening, there was not much coherent thinking going on in his brain at that moment, all he could think about was you, you, you, and your soft skin, and your floral scent, and how it was all heavily tinted with lust.

You didn’t say anything, though, you simply inhaled a shaky breath once Chris’ attention was shifting again, from your lower belly to your mound, and finally, bringing his forearms under your thighs, he pushed them towards your chest, attaching his mouth to your skin so he could repaint all those marks that had started to fade.

He vaguely registered the words ‘such delicious thighs, fuck…’ coming out of his mouth, just as he vaguely registered the whimper you gave him in response. He repeated his motions until he was satisfied with the amount of freshly made love bites on your thighs, finally directing his attention to your dripping heat.

Chris truly was just a simple man.

A simple man with simple needs.

Sinking his fingers in the soft skin of your thighs, keeping you spread open for him, he finally dived, licking a slow, fat stripe from your entrance to your clit, all but moaning at your taste on his tongue, brows pulled together in bliss.

Chris got comfortable, laying on his stomach, and slurping you up. The moans and whines and whimpers that came out of your mouth with each and every single one of his movements, the way your fingers threaded through his hair, the way your hand pushed on his head to get him impossibly closer to you, only encouraged him more. Your free hand came to rest on one of his, and he wasted no time letting go of your thigh to hold your hand instead, linking his fingers with yours, relishing the warmth of your palm against his.

“Oh, fuck…” Your legs started to tremble as soon as he eased two fingers into you, and his mind raced with the feel of your heat wrapped around his digits. So warm, soft… He wasn’t sure if the words actually left his mouth or if it was just his instincts taking a hold of his mind, but he honestly didn’t care, either.

As he started to add more and more fingers, until he was stretching you open as much as he could, your thighs clamped around his head, and Chris truly, truly couldn’t contain the literal animalistic growl that came out of his mouth, muffling against your skin as he diligently sucked your clit into his mouth and licked it with his tongue.

Letting go of your hand to grip your outer thigh, he simply encouraged you to keep that position, to borderline suffocate him with your legs, and honestly for all he cared he could’ve died right then and there, choked by the most delicious thighs he’d ever had the pleasure of touching, of kissing, of fucking–

Shit, he wanted to fuck your thighs. Would you ever let him do that again? Between the feeling of your walls around his fingers, your taste on his tongue, the sinful sounds coming out of your mouth, and the mere thought of fucking your thighs again, he could feel himself start to leak even more fluids, surely soiling his bedsheets–not like he cared much about it, to be honest.

Chris decided to ignore that thought altogether. He didn’t want to ruin the mood by bringing that up, not right now. So he shifted his focus back into the now, back to your hand tugging his hair and his fingers in your cunt and his mouth on your clit.

For a split second, he wondered if he should stop, if he should slow down to prolong this further, to eventually build you up once again and enhance your impending release. He’d been the one teasing you about it earlier, but the truth was, tonight, he was the greedy one, desperate to bring you unadulterated pleasure, so he didn’t stop.

Instead, he just sped up his fingers, thrusting harder, curling them up against that sweet spot within your walls in the exact way he’d learnt would have you curling your toes and flexing your thighs. He sucked harder, licked harder, revelling in the cries coming out of your mouth, revelling in the feel of you, all soft and warm and his.

When you came, moaning his name like the sweetest song he’d ever heard, Chris’ thoughts hazed, feeling your walls clenching repeatedly around his fingers, feeling your thighs twitching slightly around his head. And the moment you tried to pull yourself away from him, he just didn’t budge, bringing his hand from where it had been gripping your thigh to your hip, holding you tight and pinning you in place.

“Oh, fuck… Fuck, fuck, Chris, you–Shit–” Whatever it was you were trying to tell him got caught in your throat, all words replaced by broken moans and whines, which only fueled that determination that had quickly built within him. Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure, pleasure…

Chris didn’t relent until you were shaking with a consecutive high, until you tugged on his hair and begged with a breathless ‘Shit, Chris, darling, can’t handle it anymore, please…’ effectively snapping him out of it. Pulling on your thighs to get you to release your hold on him, and kissing his way up your body, Chris’ lips finally found your face, kissing away the salty tears that had run down your cheeks, only to finally find your mouth and kiss you deeply.

You let out the dreamiest sigh of relief when he kissed you, making him hum against your mouth, and as you hugged him close to you, tightly, bare chest against bare chest, his heart felt as if it was ready to burst at the seams.

“Fuck, love, you okay?” Chris wanted to check, to make sure his greediness didn’t get the best of him, and when you nodded enthusiastically, finding his lips and kissing him again, that minimal worry in his mind dissipated instantly.

“No business being that good with your mouth, fuck”, you mumbled against his lips, making him chuckle, just as you wrapped your legs around his torso, pulling him closer.

“Got a bit carried away… I can tone it down next time, if that’s what you want”, he teased you a bit with a grin on his lips, just as he held the base of his length and guided it to your entrance.

“Don’t you dare”, you replied almost immediately, pressing another loud kiss on his lips. “Want you just as you are. You always make me feel so good, baby…”

Chris hummed, content, keeping himself propped up on one elbow, kissing you as he dragged his tip up and down your folds, getting drenched in your slick. He was fully intending on not fucking you yet, on giving you time to catch your breath, he truly just wanted to feel your wetness against his cock, but when you noticed what he was doing, and urged him with a ‘if you don’t get inside of me right now I’ll cry for real, baby, please’, he simply couldn’t deny you.

Heaven, heaven, heaven, heaven, warm, warm, warm… “Fuck, it really hasn’t been that long, but I missed being inside you”, Chris couldn’t help but mumble against the skin of your neck once he bottomed out, relishing the way your walls just hugged him so perfectly, relishing how warm and snug it felt.

“Me too, baby”, you chuckled softly, threading your fingers through his hair, mindlessly playing with it.

Keeping himself propped up enough, and once his other hand found yours, linking your fingers together, Chris finally started to move. He started slow, savouring every drag of his cock against your heat just as he kept kissing you, swallowing your quiet moans.

Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he pressed slow, wet kisses on the sensitive skin of your neck, making you squirm in his hold, and the whines that came out of your mouth as you bared your neck for him had his pace picking up just the tiniest bit, had his instincts kicking in and his lips sucking purple splotches on your skin. Mark, mark, mark, mark…

It truly hadn’t been that long, but now that he was able to feel you like this again, Chris realised he had missed it more than he thought. How could he not, when you were so warm, so soft, and just so, so perfect for him in every way, and as he whispered these things in your ear, all while bringing his hands under you, one holding your shoulder, and the other holding one of your buttcheeks to keep you from sliding away from him with his movements, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that that was the absolute, irrevocable truth.

“All yours, Chris”, you mumbled back to him, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, the reassurance alone sending sparks of pleasure up and down his spine, and when you added a “just like you’re all mine, too”, emphasised with a tug on his hair, he just couldn’t hold back the sounds that were coming out of his mouth, nor the rumbling that started to resonate from deep within him. Which, had he not been absolutely drunk on your presence, would’ve puzzled him, and maybe embarrass him a bit.

It wasn’t that common for alphas to rumble outside of their rut, and Chris was no exception to this. He could probably count with one hand the times he had rumbled after puberty. But as he continued to pleasure you, to indulge in your body, he realised his quiet, slow, almost involuntary rumble was just another sign. Another sign that he was all yours, you were all his, and nothing had ever made more sense to him in this life than those two facts.

Holding you tightly, he rolled to the side, bringing you with him so you could sit on him, making you gasp with the change in angle once he was buried within your walls again.

“C’mon, pretty… Didn’t you want to be on top? Ride me”, he mumbled against the skin of your neck, sinking his fingers on the swell of your hips. “Ride me like you mean it, love. Show me how much you wanted it”.

And you did. He attached his mouth to your chest, determined to leave as many love bites as he could like he did with your thighs, just as he could feel his body burn from the inside out while you bounced on his cock. Mine, mine, mine, mine….

Time slipped between his fingers, his mind and body lost completely on you, just like you got lost on him, exploring one another until you came once more, until you eventually got off his lap, took him between your lips and made him come in your mouth. When he borderline begged you to open up and show him, he was sure the sight of his cum pooled in your mouth would be ingrained in his brain forever, and when he asked you to swallow and you did, showing him your clean tongue right after, he couldn’t help but feel tingly all over, so incredibly enraptured by you, and your mouth, and your body, and your mind, and your absolutely everything.

After a quick clean up and more kisses and more caring words, Chris simply hugged you close under the covers, burying his face in the crook of your neck as your fingers buried in his curls and massaged his scalp softly. The sound of your heartbeat under his ear was lulling him to sleep, and when you held him even tighter against your body and he started to rumble again, he simply didn’t question it, too tired and sleepy and in love to care at all once he finally fell asleep that night.

Starting a romantic relationship with you meant that there were hardly any reservations in this flat anymore. Chris would walk around almost naked most of the time, wearing nothing but comfortable, loose fitting pyjama shorts, just as you’d do the same. Walking around topless or wearing only your underwear under one of his oversized tees, and honestly Chris was having the time of his life seeing so much of your body all the time he had to make a conscious effort to not have his hands on you all the time–he failed miserably every time, but by the heavens he was trying.

You both had decided to keep Chris’ bedroom as your shared room, whereas your room would become a study of sorts for both, since you kindly requested ‘no work in the bedroom, darling, please’, which was perfectly reasonable.

The dynamic within the pack didn’t change at all, you were already doing all the things the partner of a pack’s alpha would typically do before you got together, so the only minor difference now was that you and Chris would often engage in very shameless public displays of affection, eliciting a groan or two from the younger members of the pack. They’d have to endure it, because Chris had no plans to stop any time soon. And he was very unapologetic about it.

Others, though, started airing his dirty laundry to you. ‘I wish you could’ve heard how fast his heart would beat when you got close to him before. How flustered he got…’ Seungmin just wouldn’t shut up about it, and even though you were his girlfriend now and all his prior struggles were something you were very aware of, Chris still threatened to smack him with a slipper if he kept talking to you about it–a completely empty threat, but it did slow down his jabs a bit.

By the two month mark Chris was one hundred percent sure he’d never felt this good in a relationship before, and if these couple of months were an omen of how the rest of his life would be, he was more than ready for it.

“Baby, no offence, but no wonder you had to get a roommate”, you chuckled, mindlessly playing with his hair.

Chris laid on his back with his head between your legs, your tummy posing as the softest pillow he’d ever used. Your legs draped over his shoulders, caging his head between them while he played on his phone. It was a common position for Chris and you to ‘cuddle’ at this point, just laying together on the sofa as both of you took some time to unwind from the long day, scrolling on your phones, watching TV, or engaging in conversation.

“What’d you find?” Chris mindlessly caressed the skin of your outer thigh, squeezing the flesh here and there whenever he felt like it.

A few days ago, you had offered to help organise the finances of the pack, and today Chris was finally able to send you all the documents he could find related to everyone’s income and expenses. He’d been taking care of it on his own, but he found the task to be incredibly annoying and sometimes even confusing, so he’d be the first to admit he wasn’t doing as well as he could’ve with it… Especially with his own finances.

“Well, the kids seem to be taking care of their expenses well enough… They could probably cut down on some extras if they want to have some extra money…” Chris was trying his best to listen, he really was, but he started to zone out almost immediately, distracted by the warmth of your thighs around his head.

He squeezed your thigh, inhaling sharply, getting almost overwhelmed by your scent. “But you…” His ears perked up, focusing on what you were telling him. “Do you even know you are being billed for all these things? What do you even need a scooter insurance for?”

“I’m still paying for that insurance?!”

“Mhm, look”, you handed him your phone. Chris looked at the numbers on the screen, incredulous, and slightly annoyed with himself for forgetting about these things. “Do you even have a scooter?”

“Sold it ages ago, before I even got the car”, he scoffed, handing you your phone back. “Guess it just… Slipped my mind to cancel that thing”.

“There are more like these, y’know?” You chuckled, gently tugging on his hair. “You reckless wolf, what am I gonna do with you?”

Chris simply chuckled in response, turning his head a bit to place a kiss on your inner thigh as you continued to list things he had completely forgotten about. It took you both a while to go through everything, by the time you were done, he had pulled himself from between your legs, deciding to instead sit with his back against the backrest, spreading his legs as much as he wanted, with your legs laying over his.

There was some film playing on the TV. Chris tried to keep his eyes glued to it, but in all honesty, he wasn’t watching any of it, he didn’t even know which film it was.

The way you were laying on the sofa with your legs on his lap made it so the t-shirt you were wearing rode up almost completely, leaving your thighs on full display for Chris to touch and stare at. It was nothing unusual or particularly revealing, but he’d spent the past hour just squeezing and massaging your thighs, and the motions were getting him really worked up. Maybe embarrassingly so.

Even if he’d fucked you silly and seen you naked a thousand times already, he was somehow especially affected today. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t had sex in a few days–which was fine, contrary to what the rest teased Chris for, you two didn’t fuck every single day. Several times a week? Yes. But not every day. Mostly because either one of you would be too exhausted due to your jobs or your studies or whatever situation you both were going through that week.

Chris had caught himself thinking about your thighs a lot lately. Whenever you sat on his lap, or when you draped your legs over him when you slept, he just couldn’t help but look at them, to touch them. It had gotten to the point where, whenever your schedules got busy and you couldn’t get intimate for one reason or the other, he’d found himself wanking one off thinking maybe bit too much about your thighs. Touching them, kissing them, sucking on them, fucking them…

“Baby…” He squeezed your thigh lightly, keeping his eyes focused on the way the skin dipped under his hold. “If I tell you something… Something slightly embarrassing… Would you judge me?”

You turned away from your phone to look at him. “Never, babe. What’s bothering you?”

Chris swallowed the saliva he hadn’t even realised had pooled in his mouth, massaging your thighs a bit more firmly. “I… Really, really like your thighs…”

“I can tell”, you tucked your phone under the cushion you were using to prop yourself up, giving him your full attention. “That’s not embarrassing, though?”

“That’s not the embarrassing part…” Taking a deep breath, Chris licked his lips. He’d had a chub for a long while now, he’d been trying to ignore it, but the more he touched your bare skin, the more he just enjoyed the feeling of your soft flesh under his fingertips, he just couldn’t ignore it any longer. “I… Think about them often. Maybe too often. About how soft and squishy and big they are…”

“You do?” There was a bit of a teasing tone in your voice, but the way your heartbeat suddenly quickened was enough for Chris to know you weren’t teasing him because you found it particularly amusing, but just to get him even more worked up, to get him to react, and honestly he willingly fell for it, just like he did every single time.

“Mhm…” It wasn’t anything particularly new, not to him. The thighs… They’ve always been a part of a person’s body he’d tended to focus on, and the only time he tried to openly discuss it with someone in depth they looked at him like he was crazy, so he was embarrassed, and maybe a little apprehensive. But right now, he was just horny and in love and your thighs were just so soft, he just couldn’t contain the words from leaving his mouth. “Fuck, pretty, wanna fuck them so bad right now. Just… Really wanna come all over them…”

Chris had only ever fucked your thighs during his rut, he’d never brought that up into your day to day sexual activities. He was just convinced it wasn’t exactly common to have such cravings, considering he’d had partners tell him that before. Sure, you’d let him do it already when he was going through his rut, but there were a lot of pheromones and hormonal rushes involved back then, this was different. This was his completely coherent human self wanting to fuck a part of your body that wasn’t exactly common to want to fuck.

Licking your lips, and with a shaky intake of breath, you brought your hand to his, placing it there to bring his attention to your eyes. “Wanna do it now?”

There was no hint of judgement in your eyes, if anything Chris could see your pupils dilate, he could hear your heart beating faster in your chest, so he gave you an almost shy nod. “Do you, though?”

Your hold on his hand tightened a bit. “These are yours, Chris. I’m all yours”, your low tone, the desire coating your words, had him biting his lower lip and inhaling deeply, getting a whiff of your floral scent slightly tinted with lust, and it was honestly starting to cloud his mind a bit. “I don’t think it’s anything to be embarrassed about, baby. I actually think it’s quite hot… Makes me feel… Wanted. Is that how it is? Do you want me?”

“‘Course I do. Never not want you, pretty”, sneaking his hand between your thighs, Chris squeezed the tender flesh at the highest point, right where it met your core, making you almost squeal.

You stared back at him, in that way that almost made his alpha instincts kick in, in that way that made him want to make you submit to him in any way he could, but before Chris could say anything–or do anything–you spoke again. “Well… There’s massage oil in the coffee table…”

Of course there was massage oil in one of the drawers of the coffee table. You and Chris kept it there since before you got together, for times where the other felt their shoulders particularly stiff or for when any of the kids came over with the same problem. He’d lie if he said he never thought about… Using it in more inappropriate ways before, but it had been so long since you’d used it he had honestly forgotten about it.

With a chuckle, Chris shuffled a bit, careful not to let your legs fall out of his lap as he leaned forward to open the drawer and take out the bottle. Settling back on the sofa, as comfortable as he could, he instructed you, “scoot your legs back a bit, love. Need to take my shorts off”.

So you did, and once he found himself bare, he guided you towards him just as he slouched further into the sofa, bringing your legs back to his lap. Taking the bottle of oil, Chris took his time lathering your inner thighs with it, lightly massaging your flesh as he went, relishing the way your breathing was starting to get a bit more laboured with each drag of his hands on your skin, until finally, he soaked his cock, giving himself a couple of languid pumps.

Once Chris was content with how soaked you both were, he gave you the bottle so you could place it on the floor, just as he guided your legs to close around his length, and the sigh of relief that left his lips was honestly almost pathetic to his ears–not like he could care much about it when the most delicious thighs he’d ever seen were practically suffocating his cock.

“So good, fuck…” It wasn’t a particularly easy angle to do this in, but he was too far gone to care, so Chris simply angled his body towards you enough for both of you to be comfortable. Slowly, he started to thrust, his eyes focused on the sight of his tip popping out from between your legs, almost rubbing your core with each motion, feeling himself leak and almost drool as tiny sparks of pleasure started to travel down his spine.

There was a voice at the back of his head telling him that he wasn’t taking care of your pleasure, that he was being too selfish by rutting himself between your thighs like this, but before he could even feel bad about it, Chris heard you whimper, and when his eyes snapped from the sight of his cock between your legs to your face, he couldn’t help but swallow. Your face was flushed, your lower lip trapped between your teeth, and your brows furrowed as you looked back at him.

“Is this how you wanted me, darling?” When the words left your mouth, almost breathless, Chris swallowed again, slowly nodding. Somehow, you looked like you were enjoying it as much as he did, and that realisation had him growing impossibly hard.

“Just like this, pretty… Seriously, these thighs of yours… They’re gonna be the death of me. So full and soft… So delicious…” Sliding one of his hands under your shirt, he found one of your breasts, kneading it and squeezing it for a bit only to finally pinch your nipple between his fingers in tandem with his cock pumping itself between your legs, relishing the soft moan that left your mouth when he did.

“Babe, I want you to… To enjoy yourself”, there was a pout on your lips, but Chris could feel your thighs twitch every time he rolled your nipple between his fingers, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Oh, I am”, letting his head fall onto the backrest, Chris just looked at your face, at the way it scrunched up in pleasure and the way your eyelids fluttered shut with every movement of his, just as one of his hands kept working you up and the other held onto your thigh to keep you in place while he fucked himself between them. “You’re so fucking perfect, baby… Most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen…”

Chris had this habit of rambling and running his mouth when he was horny or when he was feeling vulnerable. He’d told you this before, so he was sure you weren’t surprised by the things that came out of his mouth when you had sex by now, but everything he said was something he truly believed, it wasn’t all just horny talk. His last statement was no exception. You were, truly, the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, and he’d believed that since the very first day he saw you.

You just whimpered in response, clenching your thighs harder, making him groan with the motion. Pulling your tee further up your torso, you brought your hand to your other breast, kneading it and playing with your nipple as Chris kept stimulating the other, as he kept fucking your thighs, and honestly he didn’t know where to look–to your gorgeous, blissed out face, to your hand and his working your chest, or to where his cock popped out from between your legs… It was all so much, and so, so good, and he truly was almost drooling with the intensity of it all.

It went on like this for a while, until Chris felt his orgasm grow closer. He hazily reached a compromise with himself, to let himself come first, something he didn’t do often. He usually preferred to have you reach your climax and fuck your brains out while you were all sensitive and drenched and squirming, but he needed this, and boy if he was ready to make it up to you after.

With a few more thrusts, giving you a quick warning, and a garnish of your name coupled with a colourful assortment of swear words, Chris finally came. His cum quickly pooled on the valley created by your thighs and your core, soaking your underwear, a bit even landed on your lower belly, and truly, you were always beautiful, every day, in every way, but especially so when you were covered in his cum.

“Shit, look at that, huh…” Chris felt lightheaded, but that didn’t stop him from reaching out to your lower belly, spreading his cum around with two of his fingers, only to finally bring them to your mouth, and, just like you always did, your lips wrapped around his digits, licking them clean with a satisfied moan. “Like eating my cum, pretty baby? Looks like you do, you’re sucking so eagerly, hm?”

You nodded, finally opening your eyes and letting his fingers pop out of your mouth. “Love it. How could I not? When you always have so much for me?”

Chris couldn’t help but chuckle, ignoring the heat he felt spread on his face. “All for you, love… All of it. All of me”.

You chuckled, regarding him with a smile. “How’re we gonna get out of this one without staining the sofa?”

“Take off that t-shirt, let’s use that”.

After wiping you off with his tee, Chris pulled you into his lap, bringing you close to him with one hand caressing your thigh and the other cradling the back of your head, just as you settled your legs at either side of him and your hands on his chest. You kissed like this for a bit, until your lips wandered off, pressing a trail of kisses from his mouth to his neck.

When you pulled back from his neck, you looked at him with such adoring eyes Chris thought he was going to melt right then and there. “You really like my thighs, huh?” You looked down, to where he was tightly holding onto the supple flesh of your thigh, and Chris really couldn’t help the bashful smile that came to his face when you called him out on it.

“Just fucked them and came all over them, baby. Can’t hide it, I’m fucking obsessed with them”.

You just chuckled, pressing your bare chest as much as you could against his to hug him close, just as you placed a brief kiss to his lips. “I meant it earlier, babe. You can fuck them whenever you want. I like it when you do. It’s really hot”.

“Oh, pretty, love… I fucking will. Shit, how couldn’t I…” Inhaling deeply, Chris kissed you, maybe a bit too hard, a bit too eager, but he still revelled in your soft moans as he did.

Linking his arms under your ass to keep you secure in place, he stood up from the sofa, earning a surprised squeal from your lips that got lost in his mouth. He simply laid down on the sofa with you on top of him, giving you a tight squeeze on one of your buttcheeks.

“Now, pretty baby…” He spoke between kisses, just as his hands roamed your body, squishing and kneading your soft flesh all over. “I need you to sit on my face. Want to make you feel good”.

You simply giggled in response, giving him one quick, loud kiss. “Someone’s hungry today”.

“For you? Always”, Chris chuckled. “Then, if you can still walk after, we can go stargazing tonight”, he added with a smile and a playful smack on your ass.

Chris was determined to show you just how hungry for you he was time and time again if necessary. How could he not be hungry for you? He’d realised that, for him, you embodied the very essentials of his pack. You embodied those things he so desperately wanted to have in his pack since he had decided to start one. Care, love, support, acceptance…

Whether it be his and his friends’ lycanthropy or his kinks or his odd spending habits, you seemed to accept it all as part of him. He shouldn’t be surprised, really. He shouldn’t doubt it. After all, you were made for him, all for him, perfect just for him, and he was ready to enjoy it, to enjoy you and your company for as long as you’d let him.

Author’s Note x2: while i was writing this, i took some time to re-read It’s Cold Out again after a long time and holy shit. i hadn’t fully realised how much my writing has changed since then. to the point where to me it doesn’t feel like ICO was written by me anymore. it’s crazy lol. i’m happy i’ve gotten to expand on this AU, and i’m even happier that i get to share it with you all. if you’re reading this, thank you, you’re awesome

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Chris’ WereRoomies Instalments: It’s Cold Out · Rut · Alpha Dog · It’s Warm In · Love is Easy · Afraid to Lose You. For extra drabbles, check out the series masterlist.

#stray kids supernatural au #stray kids fantasy AU #stray kids werewolf au #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfiction #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan fic #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #werewolf chan #werewolf bang chan #✨🌙✏

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 9 months

Text

FLOWERS FOR THE SICK AND GONE (II)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER III

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 6.3k

WARNINGS: Angst, mentions of stalking, talks of death, weapons, explosives, violence, gore, strained mother-daughter relationship, suggestive thoughts, mentions of sex, toxic modeling standards, etc. (Series 18+)

A/N: I started this before Nikto was confirmed for MWII multi., but I'll be using the 'Powercell' skin as his main attire now because it's literally so attractive.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You look at your hands as they rest in your lap, right foot jumping up and down in a display of internal anxiety under the table in your Mom’s office. It was cold, and the AC was turned all the way up; the floors barely helped—tile covered by thin rugs and windows open to the chilly morning. Like the opposite of Hellfire.

Two days had passed since the explosion and you’d only just gotten the ability to leave the hospital. The doctors had wanted to keep you longer, but you had turned in a favor from your matriarch to have them ease off with their prodding and poking.

The fact that they had been more interested in your permanent colorblindness had tipped you off that all the help you were going to be given had already been passed out. As a whole, that had been in the form of pain medication and surgical glue to the minuscule cut on your temple.

The head bleeds a lot, you know, even if the injury is minor. You weren’t overly surprised the gash had been tiny; you know what a violent wound to that part of the skull looks like.

Feels like.

Your lips thin at the thought of the nurses and their curious and narrowed eyes—the doctor wanting to do more in-depth tests as if you hadn’t gone through a slew of them before.

There was a reason you hated hospitals.

Shivering, you take a deep breath to calm down right as the door behind you opens with the sound of heeled feet and a hurried sigh. The door automatically shuts with a slam and a click of metal hinges.

“Thank God nothing happened to your face!” A hand sets itself on your shoulder and you restrain a flinch, looking to the side to the familiar face of your mom as her head tilts to look you up and down in your seat. “Stand up, let me see you.”

You open your mouth to speak but you’re quickly cut off by her serious expression.

Standing, you steady yourself by placing a hand on the side of the seat, knuckles tight as your casual sneakers take your weight. “It’s just a scratch Mom, promise. I got lucky.” When you can stand without the fear of falling over, you release it and study your mother’s fancy attire.

Dress pants, blouse, and pounds of extravagant jewelry around her neck and wrists like shackles. She looks just the same as you’d always seen her. Cold.

In some ways, she was more suited to this city than you were.

“I’ll say—you could have damaged your skin.” She motions to your body, shaking her head and sighing before moving behind her desk to sit down. A large window is behind her—shining in chilled light. “We’ll have to hope and pray that the cut heals before the next photoshoot you have scheduled. Have they told you when you’ll be back in the Agency?”

“...three people are dead, and you’re worried about me?” you say quietly, gut-twisting. “What about them?”

She pauses, her hand half holding a piece of paper from her pile. She glances up at you and thinks for a moment. Your eyes dig into hers, dejected. But she doesn’t think much of this, judging by the confused emotion that swirls behind her gray pigment.

“I’m sorry, Beauty,” no, she’s not. Your face pulls at the nickname, but you say nothing until she’s done talking. “But their job was to keep you safe. They succeeded, it’s unfortunate, I know, but if they had to…pass,” she strains through the word, not wanting to say the other. For your benefit or hers, you know not. “To keep you alive, then I say it was an even trade.”

It’s nearly like a slap to your face as your body goes tight, sitting back down into the seat with a puff of air. Like you’d just been slipped poison, your throat starts to fizzle with bile.

Yefim’s dead body slashes in the back of your mind; the lower half gone and the rest spilling out. Confused eyes and burned skin that smells like something out of a kitchen no matter how morbid the thought was.

She wasn’t there, you tell yourself. She doesn’t know how bad it was.

Screaming mixed in with crying and Alyona’s insistent barks of orders. Her hands pulled you up and shielded you from the disintegrated ash of Petya and Aleksandr. One splayed out the broken window and the other lay in an unrecognizable heap a foot from the bakery.

The only people to survive were the Baker’s boy and the two of you, but then again that was half.

“I don’t think that’s right—”

“If you were a mother, then you’d be agreeing with me,” the Consul explains, shaking her head. “But that’s not why I wanted to bring you here.” With your mom, sometimes it was better just to let things go and have them disappear into the past; you’d gotten good at brushing past comments just to satisfy her. It was just easier.

“Okay,” you whisper, looking down at your lap before closing your eyes. Looking back up, the woman is signing papers and doesn’t glance at you before speaking.

“There was a break-in at the bakery an hour before you went there,” your body stills, a strange feeling in your gut as it tightens. “Nothing was stolen but Mr. Morozov,” the owner, “says the locks were broken off; he never told authorities until now because it was minor. I think that leaves us with the answer about how that explosive got under the floorboards.” The scribble of a pen before it’s placed down and your mom’s eyes settle back on you with a frown on her lips. Her makeup makes her look like a stone statue you’d see in a museum; blank with an undertone of something else.

You stutter in broken intervals, repeatedly tapping your finger on your wrist, “How do you know about this?”

“I’m paid to know,” your mother mutters but offers more. “One of the employees is American. He’s here and planning to extend his visa for four years to care for his dying father.” Her voice drops. “Thank God that he wasn’t working.”

Being one of the two American Consulate Generals in Russia, your mother’s job was to, officially, “...Preserve and protect the relationship, and be a point of contact, between the United States of America and Russia.”

It also meant that any American citizens in Yekaterinburg were under her watchful eyes. This Consulate building provides a multitude of services—issuing visas, and renewing passports were the big ones, while registering births and deaths was also added to that chart. You’d never looked much into it, but knew it was intensive work. Everything ‘American’ going on in this city, your mom knows about.

“I’ve got a landfill of paperwork, so I’ll have to cut this off at the base,” she continues and you rub at the base of your cut with a flinching hand. You carefully tense as if a bombshell is going to be dropped on you, thighs shifting on the seat and feet unconsciously putting themselves farther under the chair.

The woman blinks at you and folds her hands on the table, knuckles tight.

“The Russian government is eager to keep lines of communication open with the USA, which means me.” You don’t like where this is going—certainly not with that folder that your mother was grabbing from out of her top drawer; having to unlock it with the name tag around her neck. A small beep echoes over the large room. “I don’t think I need to explain how much this puts me in a hole now that a stalker is after a Consul’s daughter and everyone knows about it.” You feel guilty but you don’t know why. This wasn’t your fault….right?

“I have meetings planned into next week from the second the sun rises until it peaks its stupid ass back up on the other end.” She speaks low, running a hand over her head but still keeping you in her sight. She slaps a bulging manila folder onto the desk and leans back with a sigh.

Your eyes meet in a locking of wills and you restrain yourself from apologizing. In your lap your hands clench.

“Any weapon,” she speaks slowly so you take in every word—as if you were a toddler. You hate when she gets like this. “Any goes through so many hoops to be owned it’s practically not worth it, and the same goes for possible parts used to make them. Whoever did this either has connections or a pile of money to use for bribes; I don’t know which I’d prefer, but based on his presents I have a good guess.”

“But why would someone do that?” You have to speak—to ask. How could someone be so cruel and malicious? Kill someone—multiple someones? To you, it was just unthinkable. Even just being a part of it had wreaked your sleep schedule, left you writhing in bed from an inability to sleep out of fear of seeing Yefim’s face again—gray blood; colorless gore. It was a chore to get up in the morning and eat what little you could.

Being unable to see color had never left you more terrified than when that pretty boy’s eyes had stared into yours until everything was snuffed out like a matchstick.

“Because this person,” the Consul states, answering you firmly. “He doesn’t care about you as an individual. To him, Beauty…you’re just an object that he wants to own. Your picture is all he thinks about and everyone else needs to be out of the background, do you understand?”

You go lightheaded, face quickly tilting down and contorting into itself.

Your mother sits straighter and reaches a hand across the table, lightly saying your name with the voice she would use to read stories in your youth. Skin burning, you look at it, but after a moment you weakly place your own into hers, heart hammering and brain laced with a primal fear. Though the woman’s grip tightens and squeezes lightly, you get no warmth from the gesture. Yet still, it’s better than nothing.

Alyona was away with her relatives and fiance since she’d been released from the hospital earlier; you’d spoken there briefly, but it wasn’t the same as it would have been if you’d had her here.

“We’re going to get this figured out, okay?” You nod, trying to smile as she studies your face—lingering on your temple before she frowns deeply and pulls back. Loudly, she states, “I’ll order some scar cream to your penthouse when we’re done.”

“Alright,” your lips mumble, ribs like iron cages for too-large lungs.

“But now into the important part. I need you to pick one.” She pushes the folder closer to you, and your hand snaps out to grab it. It instead punches the desk and you hiss, bringing it back to your chest. Your mother minutely blinks in shock, eyes confused. “Still with that Spatial Awareness? I thought you said it was getting better?”

“I’m…still working through it,” you grumble. You wanted to tell her there wasn’t any ‘getting better’ from this. It was just another problem you’d have to deal with your entire life. But, again, it’s easier.

She huffs as you correctly locate the folder and pick it up, placing it gently into your lap and flipping it open. Inside you find file after file, taking the first one into your fingers and propping it up before blinking in confusion at the black ink and tiny picture of a man.

You briefly look at the name, processing, before gazing back up at the woman with a furrow in your brows.

“Mom?”

She smiles.

“I have three men of Russian descent who are candidates to be your next around-the-clock guard.” Your matriarch is oblivious to your apparent hesitation to take on another person into your life, your shoulders hunching in. “All part of a PMC group called KorTac. I’d ask for a broader scale, but being born here and previously serving in the military would give them far more privileges than any others.”

You’re already shaking your head, “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. I still have to send my apologies to all the others’ families. I–I,” your voice cuts before you can let the tears weigh your sentence down with emotion.

Your mother didn’t do that kind of thing.

“Sweetheart,” the woman draws out, shaking her head, “they don’t want to hear from you, you know that.” Her voice hardens. “You’re my responsibility. Now, look at the options.”

Gritting your teeth, you want to stand and stalk out, say to hell with her PMCs and her bland eyes. The way she talks with care but hides it behind a wall of knives like some protective barrier; like she needs to do that.

But you stay your voice and look back down, brushing past pages to have all of the pictures lined up right next to each other.

Blinking, you ask, numbly, “What kind of privileges?”

Your mother smiles though a thankful breath. “Weapons, body armor; they’ll be allowed to enter and go about business as they see fit without normal blockades. People here trust their own.”

Fire races through your mind, all-consuming black smoke and the bland ash of a burning building. Trust their own? One of their own had just killed three people and injured three more just to get your attention. How was that trust?

Your eyes gloss over words, or what little of them you could read beyond inked-out sections. Names smudge and achievements blurr; medals with no hold on you and a list of missions accomplished with what you assumed to be perfect records.

“These men have killed people,” you say, shifting to the last file as you don’t look at it right away, instead leveling the Consul with a pleading twist to your lips. “A lot of people.”

As an individual, you wouldn’t say you were very confrontational or quick to jump to violence—you did damage control and appeased more than antagonized. There was less stress when everyone could get a portion of what they wanted.

You just didn’t like senseless brutality.

“Then there’s no one better for the job.” Sometimes you wonder if your mother even raised you at all.

Forehead creased, you shift back to the papers, staring at the last man of the three in a moment of flickering orbs. His intimidating appearance makes your eyes go slightly wider with shock as you focus in.

Nikto is all that was given for the man’s name—Russian: Никто—and the individual was shrouded in so much black you wondered if he might create a void of energy around him; some kind of gruff and grueling cloud. Even from the picture, the pale, contrasted, eyes dug into you, even brighter than Petya’s had once been. Though, these eyes were inlaid into some strange mask, the top of the covering a type of Kevlar and the bottom covered in rough canvas that pulls back and completely covers the rest of the head. There are straps that extend to hold his chin and on the sides of his nose…

Your face pulls with mild disgust. Are those two screws? What the hell…?

This Russian was, plainly put, the face of death. Perhaps even something worse.

The theme of black continued, as it was the only color besides white you could identify. Strapped vest of armor plates, arms and hands that rest behind his back covered by long sleeves. Ammo was clipped at the sides of his upper chest and a large collar of armor stamped with the letters and number of ‘MP-0’. Your eyes slide to what you can read about him, morbidly intrigued as you frown at his belt full of grenades and knives. An assault rifle hangs from his chest by a long strap, limp as a dead limb.

But as you look, there was even less information available about this beast than there was visible skin behind the face-paint smeared into his sockets. Not even an age.

“Nikto,” you murmur. You wondered why you liked how it slipped off the tongue.

But you’ll also wonder in the future why you choose him at all.

Maybe it was the way for the first time in two days you’d felt something other than fear and regret; something that spread like water into the lines of your face to make them smooth. Maybe it was because out of the others, he would be the type to do his job and then leave entirely without a trace.

A blink and then…gone.

You can't have anyone else die on you—and Nikto seems the only one able to take death by the throat and throttle him with the handle of his own scythe.

Maybe.

Your head tilted, and you blinked.

“This one,” you toss the file to your mother’s desk and watch it hit off-center. the woman’s face twitches at the monster-esc profile. It’s like she ages ten years.

“...Lovely.”

—

One day later you meet Nikto, but before you do, you make a quick visit to the hospital with a bundle of fresh flowers. You’d brokenly asked for blue and white, but you can’t verify if that was really what you were holding.

At the front desk, you ask for room three and are simply pointed down the hallway without a word. A small smile is handed over, but no one answers as you slink away, guiding your legs along the lines of the tile on the ground. Standing outside you knock softly and grasp the handle, pushing it open after a deep breath.

The Baker’s Boy lays in a bed and his dark eyes snap to yours immediately, widening. His curls are crisped and shorter now, singed at the ends. Arms taped with bandages and gauze, his wounds are not wide-spread but severe enough to keep him for longer than you and Alyona.

“Sergei?” You ask, standing in the doorway and plastering a soft smile on your face. You’d gotten his name through a text with Aly, where she asked you to give him a kind word as you dropped off your gift.

Sergi blinks quickly at you, and something like fear slashes his face. You raise your hands rapidly, flowers in the crook of your elbow.

“N-no, I’m sorry. I know you’ve probably heard a lot about me, the news has been…uh…” Your words trail to a fake chuff of laughter, looking to the side wall for a moment. “Well, it’s not right of me to take no blame.” The man only stares and stays silent, sitting up straighter in bed and thinning his lips. His body is tense.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to drop these off. I-I’ll leave.” Walking quickly to the side table, you place down the flowers and clear your throat, sending him a very guilty glance. “The woman I was with gives her well-wishes for your recovery. I’m sorry,” you say again, nodding your head and locking your hands in front of your abdomen.

Turning on your feet like an elite track star, you dart quickly back to the door.

“Girl.” You halt in the doorway, one arm quivering just as it had before the explosion. Your head swivels, surprised.

Sergi gazes at you, his dark eyes large and serious, tinged with unease. His English is barely understandable, and he struggles through the words with an accent so deep it’s a series of throaty grunts.

“Do not come back.”

Your lungs tighten as if someone squeezes them in a ruthless fist. Nodding shakily, you dash out and don’t stop until you’re back outside, breathing in gasps and putting a hand to your mouth to stifle your ragged breaths. People who come and go look at you as you lean heavily into the wall, some concernedly furrowing their brows but ultimately walking past.

You suppose they didn’t recognize you in all of the normal clothes—a thick turtleneck under a jacket and sweatpants. No makeup with a ball cap atop your head. Clearing your dry throat, you get a hold of yourself and keep your face down-cast, slithering off with a zig-zag pattern of feet.

It’s okay. It’s okay. He has a right to feel like that. It’s going to be okay.

But it doesn’t stop the pit in your heart from growing until it threatens to swallow you whole.

It’s only when you’re five minutes late to the Consulate building that your mother levels you with an unimpressed look, standing at the entrance with her arms crossed. You walk quickly to hide the rings around your eyes from her, not wanting to start an argument about what went wrong.

“He’s been here for half an hour, Seraph,” you cringe, waving to the woman at the front desk who nods and gives a pitying tilt of her head.

Half an hour? Talk about a time freak.

“I know, I’m sorry, I just lost track of time.” Hands take you by the side of your arms and swivel you back around as you hang up your jacket, making you flinch but go along with the action.

Your mother levels you with a stare that the long it goes on, eases. It mingles on the border of comfort and concern before she awkwardly squeezes and lets go of you, eyelids blinking to study the trash can near the door.

“Stop…apologizing, Beauty.” The curtain re-falls and your mom stands straighter, brushing down her fitted blouse and clearing her throat. “It’s unbecoming. Now, remember to smile—everyone loves your smile.”

You hide your yearning and plaster on a fake grin, feeling nervousness infecting your blood.

In your career, meeting new people was a requirement. Photographers, other models, business associates who reach out for brand deals; the list was long. Beyond a desirable body and the mask of provocative expressions, physical image was only a part of it—being good at playing sales broker added to appeal. At the parties AMA shipped you off to, especially.

Alyona often called the two of you exceptionally well-paid and up-standing sex workers, but withholding the intimacy of sheets and panting breath. You sold the idea of sex just by being there, which, oftentimes, is far better than the sin of flesh itself. Your agency knows it well.

Your face was an asset; just like your body and expressions—a tool.

But somehow you knew that whatever face you put on, model or the woman who’d just seen immense horror, it wouldn’t matter in the slightest. Just on a picture alone, Nikto had ingrained himself in your mind as an idol of seriousness and blunt orders. Not like Yefim, but somehow that made you feel better about this situation. It was even the reason you had chosen him in the first place.

No getting close to this one, you reason as your mother guides you down a hallway, hand firm on your back.

“Is there anything I can know besides his name?” Watching room after room passes you, you’re brought to the far back of the Consulate building. You study the large wooden door.

It’s a moment before your mom responds, rubbing lightly along your spine. “I’ve heard he’s a former FSB Agent. Spetsnaz as well. He has an extensive record, but no...concerns to worry about. You’re in exceptionally good hands.”

“Concerns?” A huff. “Like if he’ll kill me before the creep has the chance,” you’re leveled with a stiff look.

“No one is going to die, Seraph.” People already have.

With a frown, you grasp the handle and shrug off your mother’s touch, entering the room and letting the door shut behind you with a thump as you pad through. It’s only a millisecond, but you plaster back on a content expression and loosen your muscles; the internal warfare of constant tension makes everything ache.

You lock eyes with a standing absence of light.

In person, he was even more dark…and you didn’t just mean the outfit. Staring, bright eyes dig into your soul with no emotions—so departed from normal expression it’s like looking into a corpse.

Nikto’s standing with his hands behind his back, his shoulders loose but pulled with soldier-like authority. He’s tall, and the large bulk of his chest and thighs make you swallow down saliva as you stand still and blink quickly. His stomach bulges with muscle from under his armor—the same you’d seen in his profile.

The Russian was all the same except for the lack of weapons, though, the duffel bag at his side certainly held them in its inky depths.

He’s built like a damn brick wall, your mind blanks, not lying with the feelings of slight unease. Nikto was just…still. Not blinking. Watching you with a gleam of something strange. The Russian man’s eyes narrow with…disgust? Maybe you were reading too much into that, but one thing was certain.

He was studying you... aggressively. Prodding.

A second passes like this.

Oh, your face remains a plastered calm but your heart skips a beat, he’s waiting for me to introduce myself. You quickly clear your throat and walk forward, not seeing the way he tenses and sets his feet harder into the ground.

“Umh,” scolding yourself for your hesitation, you shakily put out a hand for him to shake, keeping a respectable distance away.

Finally, a slight movement; a dart of his eyes down to your limb.

“I’m Seraph, nice to meet you. You go by Nikto, right? Just Nikto…? I’m sorry, that was all I was able to read on your file.” You’re blinked at slowly, left gazing up into this beast's covered face and his terrifying mask of fabric and rigid material.

How tall can a man be before it becomes insulting to be standing next to him?

As the silence continues, your hand stutters before you let it fall, awkwardly stuffing it into your pocket.

Alright.

“There was…” You lick your lips, glancing off to a gray picture on the far wall. “A lot of black ink, to be honest. Quite the record, huh?”

A strained chuckle bounces off the small space.

Nikto doesn’t respond and you blink quickly through confusion and growing embarrassment. Your face burns like a heat gun was set on it. A highly uncomfortable silence falls, but you very much doubt that the man in front of you even feels it like you do—a slow deterioration of your confidence.

And why in the hell was he still looking at you like that?! All you’d done is walk through the damn door and lock eyes with him!

But then he speaks as you’re just about to turn away and walk out of the room with your tail between your legs, mentally exhausted and needing to put ice on your forehead.

“Seraph, like angel?” Broken English, but better than Sergi’s. What caught you was the depth of it—the rough scrape of vocal cords and raspy grit. Sandpaper, nearly. You restrain yourself from cringing. Nikto scoffs and he looks away from you, stance immobile. “You do not look like angel.”

Your mind takes a moment to latch onto the words, jaw slackening in shock and lashes fluttering for a second. “E…excuse me?”

Nikto grunts and glares at the door.

It’s your turn to stare, mouth opening and closing with small smacks of lips with a sudden blankness to your brain. Your ability to speak seems to leave you in a small instant between the stab of insult and brief anger. While you felt yourself above the base instinct of vexation, Nikto’s words had soaked you in their substance of prodding bluntness.

Your beauty was all you had, certainly, he hadn’t meant that. Surely it was just a translation error. Your lips darken with a frown, eyes flashing.

But something else pierces you in the chest, too.

Without another exchange, you turn around and begin walking to the exit, hands in your pockets clenched into your palms. There’s a silent padding of feet right behind you and the shuffle of a duffel bag. Your body freezes and you slowly look over your shoulder.

The Void follows, bag in hand and dead eyes peeling back your psyche as if this was normal; you find him a few steps forward from where he was, like your own personal shadow.

He freezes as you do, but this is more… purposeful. Both of you lock gazes, nothingness and veiled discourse flaring.

But you were better than that.

You had to be better.

So you soften your expression and, under your breath, sigh heavily. “I’ll write you up my schedule,” Nikto blinks, brows barely pulling in. “Get you a copy from AMA or something.”

“Already acquired.” His hulking figure seems to always be tense and ready to strike. For a second you’re reminded of Petya with a sharp slap to your face. But Nikto’s bark is far sterner if that was even possible. Almost like a single sound.

You bring a hand to itch at your temple, stopping before you can peel at the soft skin covered in scar cream.

“...Right,” at a slight loss of what to do, you shuffle your feet and open the door—leaving the room and holding the thing partially open behind you for the Russian. “Of course.” Your grumble only meets your ears, put off.

Nikto moves out of the doorway, having to slightly tilt his shoulders to fit through the opening without slamming into the frame. He does so fluidly and almost robotically.

“Has anyone ever told you that you walk like a scary dog?” You let go of the door and pull ahead, smiling somewhat more real as the light eyes snap down at you. There’s a brief grunt of breath from behind his mask.

Nikto is silent for a long while, growling out, “Hет.” Formal. Brisk.

No.

You get the feeling that you’re annoying him, but you can’t help but slightly enjoy it. Finally, some semblance of normality you could cling to. “Well, they should,” you admit, studying the loping walk—a slightly tilted pace that would suit a wolf or a bear, even. Making sure your own hand slides against the wall to keep you in a straight line, you continue, cheekily. “Because you do.”

Nikto stares straight ahead and stays silent, something akin to irritation in his visible portions; free hand twitching. You tilt your head.

“Y’know, this would be better if you could hold a conversation.”

“Да.” You smile wider.

“So you’ll have a conversation with me?”

“Hет.” Nikto glares from a side-eye, the words hissed through clenched teeth. If he was this easy to rile up, this would be more fun than you thought.

Your eyes linger on his form, the biceps, and the forearms that strain behind padded pieces of thick material. Combat boots and loose black cargo pants shoved into them.

This might be a good distraction, at the very least. Let the authorities work in the background and keep this cut of the crop. No feelings, of course. Not like Yefim, you remind yourself again. Never again like Yefim.

The dead man’s face slips behind your eyelids and you blink your face forward.

“Are you only going to say ‘yes’ or ‘no?’” Nikto’s bulk enshrouds you heavily as you take a right back to the lobby where your mother waits. He hums in his throat, before muttering something under his breath in harsh Russian. You have no idea what that means or if you even want to decipher it, you shrug and shut up.

It was probably a curse anyway. Or a plea for reassignment.

Your mother’s face pulls tight as Nikto shows himself beside you, his sights locking onto the Consul as you grab your jacket, missing the hook once before you grasp it firmly and slip it on.

“If everything is in order…?” She trails, before frowning at the man and coming over to you.

“We can always find a way to bring you back to the States,” you blink, her face serious as it slashes through you. “Get your passport up to date and find a different modeling agency.”

What’s with the change in attitude? You ask yourself, brows pulling in and studying your mom’s expression. She’s older, but maybe you’re only realizing it now that you care to look. Wrinkles and a certain film to her gaze that parents seem to grow when they’re trying to convince you of something.

Nikto watches and listens closely a few feet from the door, duffel bag still in hand.

“You know that’s not an option. Allurement is exclusive—I won’t get a better deal than the one I have.” Your words come out confused. “Weren’t you the one that told me this was the best option, that they would be the only ones to take me?” You pause. “Especially with the way I am?”

Her face twists, shaking her head instantly with a scrunched nose and flashing orbs. Even mentioning what happened made her act like water near the brim of a glass; one shake and the liquid would seep over and pool to the counter. “I don’t remember saying that.”

You close your mouth before changing the subject, offering an easy, yet strained, smile.

“I’m going to be okay, Mom. Besides, the guy’ll get caught before we know it. All of them do. Petya, Aleksandr, and Yefim,” your voice tightens, “will get to rest easy.”

Your matriarch gives a small twitch of her lips back, kisses your forehead, and says, “Alright, Beauty,” you hide your cringe, “I’m one call away.”

She walks off with a click of her heels.

“Girl,” you look up from zipping your jacket. Nikto glares at you. “быстро. Hurry up.”

“Hurry up?” Your voice bounces as you make your way to the exit, sending a thinly hidden face of amusement. “I’m just going home, there’s no rush to things.”

“We need to secure the premises.”

We? You nearly ask, wondering what he meant. Obviously, he didn’t mean you and him, based on general attitude right now. Maybe that was just a strange quirk of his.

“Around my penthouse?” Nikto’s shoulder presses on the barrier and he’s outside before you can finish your sentence. You narrowly catch the door and slip past like a horrible snake, elbow slapping the frame—you hold back a hiss and enter the street. “I…I don’t think it’s overly necessary, the police move through that area a lot—”

“Not the penthouse, Whelp,” you struggle along, feet rapid to stay at his side and multitask by staying in a line. He walks in long strides, parting people away from him with only a sharp glance and a scoff. “Inside.”

Your body halts before you blink back to your senses and make a noise in the back of your throat.

“I-inside, Nikto? I’m sorry, I’m not following.” You huff under your breath and stick beside him, using his presence as a sort of barrier. He walks near the road. “I never agreed to that. And Whelp? What the hell, man?”

“I do not care.”

“You’re just a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” You grumble, sighing.

I guess I’m having guests.

Has your mother given permission for that? A stranger with weapons thumping inside of your penthouse like he was your live-in boy toy? Eating in your kitchen and putting his feet up on the coffee table? God, the public would have a field day with it when they saw him walking down with you in the morning to go to work.

He couldn’t have been put in the building across the street? But you suppose there are worse things that can happen—you have the space for it. With a dejected expression, you sigh; you seem to be doing that a lot recently.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Nikto stares down at you as your feet stutter along, seeming to raise a brow in annoyed question as to why you were struggling to keep up.

You wondered how much he had been told beyond some rich Consul's daughter needed a new bodyguard. Did he know any of it?

“What?” Your lips twist, smile flicking out. “See something you like?”

“No. You’re slow.” You hide your groan and face forward, brows falling into a line.

But you’re not oblivious to the way his piercing eyes survey the crowd, and while the mask is drawing attention, random people peeping break off like sticks as he’s clocked by you, darting to make room. How his large shoulders span and block the road from you, pace pulling back to fit right behind you with a low grunt as your arms brush.

A grunter too—he really is a scary dog.

“Why do you walk like this,” Nikto growls. “Are you unable to feel your feet? It is pathetic.”

“Are you going to stop insulting me?” You glare ahead and cross your arms. “Or are you going to keep playing the jerk until this is over?”

His eyes burn into yours for a moment, before he places such a heavy hand on your shoulder that you almost squeak at the pressure. It nearly slants you forward before your back tightens.

“Keep quiet. Walk.”

“Well, now I don’t think I’m going to,” his eyes flash, those colorless films going into themselves with tiny flecks of surprise. You suppose no one’s ever had banter like this with him before, being in a PMC…or really just being him as a whole. He doesn’t seem the joking type over a back-handed sarcastic comment.

“So, how has your day been, Nikto?” Your voice is smug and your smile large, perfect and bright, and ravishing. “Today I woke up at five AM and ate an apple with yogurt. Then I—”

Nikto growls deeply and forces you on through a gawking crowd.

The rest of the walk is filled with a one-sided conversation coming from a grinning face, pale, boiling eyes, and the shadow across the street who watches through the thin glass of a bookstore. The perfect view.

A hat on his head.

A slight distance to his addled expression.

A medium slip-joint knife in his pocket.

TAGS:

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littledata · 29 days

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what are these "best fics youve ever read that barely have any hits" you mentioned? can you give us a top 5 or sonething?

Oh God, you've really shamed me here because I read a LOT of random fics from fandoms I'm not even part of and the stories I was referring to largely come from there.

However, in the interest of practising what I preach, I sat down today and read a bunch of Warrior Nun fics I'd never read before so I could rec you some. To be totally clear, these aren't necessarily going to have "hardly any hits" but are fics that I think could use more love in general.

In no particular order:

I was seeing black and white (and now I'm living in color) by gayestcatra - 1281 words, a beautifully soft fic set in Switzerland with gorgeous description. By the same author I also enjoyed (your life was) my life's best part, an angsty Mary/Shannon exploring Mary's (heartbreaking) grief after Shannon's death.

Cat’s Cradle security checkpoint logs by @jtl07 - 518 words, have I raved enough on tumblr yet about how much I love their writing? No? Oh okay I'll do it again then. JT is one of my favourite writers in the fandom and I love this series of fics they did giving creative looks into the characters - this particular one is the contents of their bags but the whole series is worth checking out (and everything else they write too, obviously).

Lauds by @sisterdivinium - 3152 words, Mother Superion/Jillian Salvius. WE LOVE A RAREPAIR. Gorgeously written fic where you feel the weight of every single action. The author has a TON of fics if you liked this one too.

you're my best friend (in a world we must defend) by @daisychainsandbowties - 3980 words, avatrice and Pokemon. Beatrice's characterisation in this drives me insane. I MUST know more. If you know nothing about pokemon here's your primer: they're funny little guys you catch and make fight, exactly like the Catholic church did to Ava. There, now you've got no excuse not to read it.

Dead People Don't Shiver by waterintheshadows - 2068 words, avatrice soulmate AU set in a morgue FUCK YEAH. This is the kind of shit I live for. Great concept, great execution.

Where The River Bends by @itchyouchyz - 100,750 words, avatrice 1960s midwife AU. Full disclosure - it's 100k - I haven't finished it yet. But I LOVE what I've read so far, tender and lovely. Check the tags for trigger warnings on this one!

keep me in your mirror (but don't take your eyes off the road) by minutetuna - 26,343 words, avatrice season 2 road trip au. It made me feel this precise emotion: hnnnnnnghhhhh. There is a particular style of writing which is just bouncy and pacy and still draws you into every single emotion and this author has it in spades. LOVE.

This was so much fun! If anyone else wants to hit me up with some recs I'd love to hear them - even if (especially if) they're your fics. It's a long weekend, might as well spend it reading fanfiction.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #fic recs #i'm also writing fanfiction update is coming i swear #not really a good rec list just a list of my opinions #i wrote this post as I was reading and you can see me getting steadily more excited by all the awesome fics as I go #asks

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talesofesther · 1 year

Text

sweet calamity | ch 1

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Series Summary: It was something people described as the sweetest pain, the feeling of when the soul that's destined to find yours is closer to you. Wednesday saw it as a curse, promised herself she would hate whoever was chosen for her; but it's easier said than done.

A/N: And so the soulmate au begins (I'm a sucker for those and we all know it), anyways, I know this first part is small, but think of it as a prologue of sorts. I also can't promise that updates are gonna be super fast, because I'm kinda figuring things out as I go :') so please, let me know what you think, and especially let me know if there's anything in particular that you'd like to see happening in this series.

Masterlist

There were bumps in the road; small holes and cracks on the tree-surrounded path that lead to Nevermore. It became a familiar one, given the number of times Wednesday has already passed through it.

Today was the first day of the new semester, the return of boring normalcy after Crackstone's defeat.

Wednesday's dark eyes looked out the window, counting the trees as they went by, shadowed by the cloudy day. Her thumb was pressing over the inside of her right wrist, sometimes scratching the skin there in disdain for the faint birthmark she was cursed with.

Many people — most of them — saw the existence of soulmates as something good, the world's compensation for its cruelty with humanity; they see it as a reason to look forward to the next day, a reason to believe in a happier future.

Wednesday had a clearer vision. She knew, from the moment her parents broke the news to her that there was someone out there who had a soul that complemented hers perfectly, that it was just another devious move of this universe. A trojan horse that presented itself as salvation only to torture you — for some people to the point of insanity. Because the world doesn't give you anything on a silver platter and this was no different.

The thing about soulmates, is that each one of the pair is born with an identical mark on their skin; a mark that aches the closer you get to your soulmate, resembling the burn of a lighter on a bare finger. However, once you touch the other person for the first time, that ache is gone, never to happen again.

You could be on a train, walking a busy street, or watching a concert in the middle of a raging crowd and simply bump into the one who bears the other half of you; only to never cross paths with each other again.

So really, if anything, Wednesday respected the boldness of the universe, to come up with something so enticing, so desirable yet so out of reach.

She heard stories of people who felt the burning ache, ever present as they chased it more and more, and then suddenly… nothingness. The realization slowly sinking in as they looked frantically from one side to another and watched the people walk by, along with their chance at a happy ending.

Over time, the number of people who found their soulmate started slowly decreasing. If you did, you could be considered one of the lucky ones.

Wednesday considered herself lucky that she hasn't ever felt what others described as the sweetest pain.

The Addams girl stepped out of her car, backpack in one hand and a small suitcase in the other as Lurch unloaded the rest of her belongings. Nevermore stood in front of her in all its glory; the grey stone walls high and partly covered by climbing plants as the trees around it changed their leaves to vivid yellows and oranges.

Many students were arriving and walking through the gates, chatting animatedly and making Wednesday scrunch her nose at the unsettling noise. She spared her peers no glances, unwilling to indulge them in pleasantries and gossip about the time spent away.

It was strange how some of them still glanced at Wednesday from the corner of their eyes, whispering in each other's ears as she walked right past them, as if she wouldn't notice. She sometimes caught on to some of the words;

She's that girl who killed the evil pilgrim. That's Wednesday Addams, she saved the school last year.

The attention was not something Wednesday enjoyed, it only gave people more opportunities to disturb her peace.

As she walked through the main doors of the entrance hall, she heard it; excited steps approaching without abandon until her body was engulfed in a sea of blonde and pink.

"Enid," Wednesday said her name as a warning, though if you squint, you could say she half returned the hug.

The werewolf pulled back with a smile that Wednesday could only describe as bruising. "Hi roomie," Enid greeted, her joy dripping from her words, "it's been so long I even started missing your gloominess."

"It's barely been six months, Enid." Wednesday raised a pointed eyebrow, her features impassive as she held her roommate's gaze — until she relented; "but I did notice the absence of your obnoxious music and incessant texting."

It got Enid grinning, and with a skip on her step, she followed suit by Wednesday's side as they both walked up the stairs that led to the quad, "felt like six years to me, I didn't think I would but I actually missed school, staying home with my brothers could be considered torture."

"You can always torture them back, the possibilities are endless," Wednesday suggested.

Most students were gathering on the quad in order to hear principal Weems' speech for the beginning of the semester, including the newcomers. All tables were already filled with outcasts, some of them even sat on the ground due to the lack of space.

Wednesday huffed as she looked around, annoyed with the commotion she was forced upon; she spotted Xavier, sitting against a stone pillar with his head buried in his sketchbook; Bianca, who sat cross-legged on top of one of the tables, chatting with the other sirens; and Eugene, who was slowly walking on the opposite side of the quad, he gestured animatedly as he talked with a girl Wednesday had never seen here before, most likely giving her the Nevermore welcoming tour.

"There are even more people than before," Wednesday commented.

"I heard that a few new students transferred this year," Enid spoke after following Wednesday's gaze, "Nevermore has become quite popular…"

But the werewolf's voice faded slowly, becoming background noise to Wednesday's ears. Her dark eyes, usually sharp and attentive, lost their focus. Her burgundy-painted lips parted with breaths that came too shallow; because all of a sudden, Wednesday could only focus on one thing.

It felt like touching the tip of a lit candle with your finger, barely there, so faint that someone less aware could miss it. But Wednesday would never. Right on the pulse point of her wrist, on top of the mark she was always trying to scratch out; it burned.

The hand Wednesday had around the leather strap of her backpack tightened its hold until her knuckles turned white. She hasn't blinked since Enid started talking and she could feel the back of her eyes stinging, but her body was stuck in time. Stuck in a moment that shouldn't exist.

Only when the feeling faded, did Wednesday let out the puff of air she'd been holding. She didn't turn her head, but her gaze skimmed over the quad against her own volition, finding Xavier and Bianca and… Eugene was gone but who cares, Wednesday's so-called other half had just been close enough for her to feel them.

For a second she could feel strings pulling at her heart, willing it to match someone else's beat; her skin got littered with goosebumps and she hated every second of it. Hated whoever it was that was inciting it upon her.

It was sadistically ironic, really, that the only person who loathes the idea of having a soulmate, will most likely be studying with them.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 2 here

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forever--darling · 3 months

Text

the spoken code

summary: it's been six months within the temple & suddenly, you can't shake that this connection with anakin skywalker seems out of the ordinary, even among jedi, enough so you are prompted with a sign from the force itself, only eliciting more confusion & concerns.

pairings: anakin skywalker x jedi!reader

word count: 14.0k

warnings/notes: mention of war, of death, mention of clone wars, mention of reader's past life, swearing, fluff, soulmate au, teasingaotc!anakin, lots of plot development for these two, pre-angst

series masterlist | 03

Darkness, something you had become quite accustomed to for months. It was waning, though, you knew it; the comfort, the desire to lean into it until it swallowed you whole. It was dissipating day by day, being replaced by something else entirely, by someone else entirely. Yet, you still couldn’t understand it. This hold, this plan, the force had written out for the two of you.

The more you searched, meditated, and felt inclined to ask Master Obi-Wan, the more the answers seemed further and further from clear. What did they want from you? What did the higher powers of the world want? Why did you suddenly seem so important within the plays of humanity? You couldn’t know.

A light appeared, pulling you from your thoughts, seeming to be as loud as your lingering footsteps among the dark tiles. Near the end of the hallway, it glowed brightly, a soft blue, enticing you to move closer and closer.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice a mere echo among the long black walls and black floors. All that was in response to the wallowing silence was but the sound of a faint step off into the distance. One and then perhaps two.

That quietness loomed, and your chest tightened, confusion the only feeling you could grasp as you continued forward. Reaching for your belt, you found the spot empty where your lightsaber usually sat. As you peered down, you realized then, in the dim light alone, you weren’t in your robes either. The familiar tunic and pants are somehow gone. Replaced by a long white skirt that brushed softly along your bare ankles, paired with a tight long sleeve just as white. It was small along your wrists but comfortable, forming around you as a second skin.

Another faint step could be heard just off to your left. You turned quickly but were only met with the pitch black. Your pulse spiked. “Who’s there?”

Once again, the silence was the only response. Sighing heavily, you turned back to the bright light that remained floating within midair, dauntingly so, as if daring you to step forward. With no other sign in sight, that was exactly what you did. You walked forward, carefully until you were face to face with the bright light. With furrowed brows and eyes reflected by the strange orb, some feeling suddenly washed over. A need to stretch out your arm, to brush your fingers among it. A certain impulse that only grew.

With no Master to advise you over your shoulder or the tall chosen one to talk it over with, you couldn’t help but reach forward, fingers outstretched. With the smallest brush, a warmth appeared first in your fingertips and then among the empty space in your chest.

It took a second, no more, before the ball of light disappeared, erupting more so and soaking upon the walls before you. Your whole sight was washed over with brightness, and you couldn’t help but shield them, a wince falling from your lips.

A moment passed, and you felt almost afraid to drop your face from your elbow until you heard the lightest laugh. One far too familiar that it had caused your chest to tighten and almost skip. As you dropped your arm to your side, you gasped in surprise. Surprised to find the darkness completely gone but bathed in so much sunlight, all of which washed over cream and beige-colored pillars that towered above you, tangled among the thickest branches and veins stringed with white flowers.

“Grandmother,” the young voice laughed again, it filled with so much life. You had almost forgotten it once sounded like that.

You turned, and your eyes widened slightly at the sight before you. There within the arbor sat a small girl no older than eight, wearing a white long skirt and a long sleeve that matched your own. Her hair was long and pulled back out of her face in a low knot, small gold butterfly clips laced within the strands of hair. Her face was bare of any invisible scars, evidence of misfortunes. She was pure.

“What?” The older female voice came from the adult sitting close to the child, legs outstretched, long greying curls bouncing along her shoulders, “Y/N, my darling, are you saying you don’t believe me, the former queen?”

Grandmother.

The eight-year-old version of yourself giggled again, shaking your head with the uttermost oblivion, “No, it can’t be true. They couldn’t fly, at least not way up there.”

Your heart ached at the sight then, at the mere innocence that once reflected your skin in such oblivious happiness. Your Grandmother chuckled, that warm comforting sound you had forgotten about not long after she passed when you were no more than fifteen. A soft smile formed across her aging face, so much peace there and then as the sounds of Bakura echoed around the arbor.

“Shall I tell you another story then?” the former queen asked, only to have the young girl nod eagerly. “Alright, let me think for a moment?”

“Nona,” you interrupted, small eyes peering up through the arbor as if looking for what could only be invisible during that time of day, “The stars.”

“Which stars?”

“You know which one’s.”

The older woman chuckled, acting as if she didn’t for a mere moment only to cave at the sight of the small frown that filtered over the young princess’s lips. She, of course, knew which ones because they were the same stars who lined the window of your chambers every night. It didn’t matter how much the earth spun or the seasons changed; it remained in the same spot, unmoving, unaligned amongst the rest that moved with life. “Oh, you mean the Stars of L’âme?”

The Soul Stars.

The young princess nodded, her little head already filling with so many questions. You knew because it was the same expression you still got — furrowed brows and bottom lip tucked with ease between your teeth as you thought long and hard.

“My darling princess, I have told you that story many times before. You know how they came to be.”

“Yes, through a collision of energies in the form of pressure and heat.”

The former queen hummed in agreement, smile widening at the great memory her granddaughter proved to have, “And what makes them so special?”

“They formed outside of the stellar nurseries, but I just don’t understand it.”

“Understand what, my darling?”

That confused look only deepened, and you remembered fondly how the story you had forgotten until now went, the mysteries never quite aligning with reason. “How is it even possible?”

“Sometimes, even when things are possible, it doesn’t mean we are deemed worthy of knowing. Sometimes it is better for us not to know. Remember, what I told you about these stars. Though they formed outside of the stellar nurseries, they formed for a reason. A reason that only occurs every hundred years. Can you remember?”

Your heart skipped then at the thought, the memory forming behind your fuzzy mind that you hadn’t thought back to for years. The younger version of yourself smiled warmly at the thought, “Yes, every hundred years, two souls are chosen by whom we don’t know. When they are born, they seem connected just as the two stars in the sky.”

“Two lost souls,” your grandmother corrected, “That is something to remember most of all. This act is never random. This choice by the greater powers of our worlds. It is never a mere act of happening but by some sort of fate itself.”

The young princess slumped for a moment, the story, the long winding details becoming a lot for her to handle. Even the version of yourself standing off to the side of the arbor found it difficult to understand then in your adulthood. It felt as if you were hearing it all over again for the first time, and as if the force, the stars themselves, wanted to relay a message, you reached up to lay your hand over your chest.

You hesitated, unaware of what it all meant, and your stomach twisted in nervousness.

“Nona?”

“Yes?” the former queen chuckled again as the questions never seemed to cease with the little one who found her head always up in the clouds, believing in the untouchable of everything she couldn’t see but feel.

“Why have the stars never aligned? The two never seem to find each other.”

Your grandmother’s smile remained stoic, but the lines around her eyes deepened. So much so that you found yourself pushing away from the wall of the arbor just to get a better view of it. Just as she went to open her mouth, sure to answer the young princess’s every question asked, another voice boomed from just off the steps of the arbor. “Mother.”

A figure emerged, and you felt your breath fall short upon your tongue, unsure of how to even react as the looming frame of the current queen and your mother stepped within the arbor, eyes narrowed down at the sight of you cross-legged in front of the older woman.

“Mom,” the young girl sighed, slightly disappointed that she had interrupted her grandmother’s answer.

Your feet suddenly stopped, and you felt stuck in the ground, peering over at the beauty that had been your mother. The queen of Bakura, the love of your father’s life. The very person he left the Jedi order to be with. The only woman to have ever held a light to his heart other than you. She appeared so young, only ten or so years older than you were now. In all the time without her, the days passing into nights, her face had blurred, the image of her having become so unclear over the years.

Pictures were limited, and suddenly graced with her presence after so long, you couldn’t help but finally accept that your father had perhaps been right when he constantly told you how much you reminded him of her. You were almost her spitting image, and suddenly that ache returned, fully, and you had to grasp even tighter to your chest, just wishing she would turn — would see you, look you in the eyes after so long.

“Y/N, go on, your father wishes to see you?” the cold tone brought you by surprise as this was something you couldn’t remember. This side of her.

“But—”

“Go,” the queen sighed, rubbing her temple.

The young princess shared a last longing gaze with her grandmother before running off. As soon as she was gone, your mother turned to her own as the former older queen stood from where she had been sitting on an orange-knit blanket. With her arms crossed over her chest and feet tapping impatiently along the wood of the arbor, you couldn’t help but step even closer, unsure if this part was a dream or rather something else, you somehow were being granted to see.

“Why do you have to go and tell her those stories?”

Your grandmother sighed, a look of disappointment appearing, “Stories? Is that what you see them as now?”

“That is what they are,” your mother argued.

The former queen tutted softly, frown deepening at the thought, “Does the king think so too? Your husband?”

“Don’t bring him into this.”

Your ears perked up at the mention of your father, him still so apparent and so clear to you that the mention of him hurt. Your mother’s eyes darkened while your grandmother only appeared so solemn at the sight of her own daughter’s frustrations. “How can I not? He felt it from the day that she was born.”

“Mother…”

“He is a Jedi, so don’t you dare diminish it. There is something entirely wonderful here, and you are so worried about hiding it.”

With parted lips, your eyes deepened, a weird feeling washing over you. You tried to lean into it, the force, your senses, but it seemed they had no ability here. Not on these two people who no longer were alive to think these current thoughts or recant them. Instead, you could only stand there and listen, feeling as if the world was ending with each and everything they said that seemed to dance around the conflict at hand.

Your mother sighed, that anger fading into nothing but almost sadness, in despair, “We don’t know what or if there is anything here, and I’m not going to put outlandish thoughts inside my child’s head.”

“So you are never going to tell her?” Nona asked, that shame in her daughter apparent more than ever.

Your mother didn't seem affected by it, not one bit, as she shook her head, glare still settled across her beautiful face, “There is nothing to tell.”

The coldness raked a shiver across your form, and as you reached out to touch her, your mother, the person you had trusted most in all your life, you felt the scenery fade, almost melting. You were ripped away by a force you couldn’t recognize, something heavy. A small yell fell from your parted lips as your stomach sank and your head spun with uncertainty. Before you realized it, you were bolting up, a heavy breath falling from your parted lips in surprise.

It took a matter of seconds to recognize where you were. The room was dark besides the light of the moons sneaking in through the windows kept untouched by the curtains. The sheet and blankets pooled around your frame near your waist as you were raked with unsteady breaths. Sweat gathered along your brow, and your throat was tight, and it suddenly seemed the weight of the world was falling upon you. So much uncertainty and confusion at the dream that pierced you. The images so clear so vivid, of Bakura, Nona, your mother — the memory that had to have been real as you stared back almost in a mirror of the past at a young princess completely blind to the future before her.

Wiping the sweat from your hairline, you pushed back your long hair from your face and eased your breathing down to a simple inhale and exhale. Silence once again encompassed the air around you, and you felt it all slowly start to swarm your mind, almost like a carousel sure to never stop its incessant turning. You knew the noises within your mind wouldn’t stop then, at least not for the rest of the night, so you pushed the blankets even further from your frame and stood from the bed.

Finding a robe to pull over your night-slip, you left your chambers, the door closing behind you with a gentle hiss. The temple was quiet and dark, night still gracing the city in peace. The floor was cold against your feet, but you didn’t care to go back and find shoes, not when it was somehow welcoming to the immense heat you had felt when you woke up. That discomfort still lingered as you walked the empty halls, unsure of what or where to go.

Far from your chambers, near the other end of the temple, you stumbled along a corridor that wasn’t familiar and often went unnoticed by many of the Jedi within the temple as it was much narrower than the others, void of many rooms within it. Feeling like you were called to go down it, you walked steadily until you came upon a windowsill sitting right next to a large window, expanding most of the opposing wall. Peering outside, a small sense of relief almost appeared at the sight of the city before you bathed by the dark sky decorated with far too many stars. The sky has always been able to bring comfort ever since you were a child.

It seemed that could have very well been because of Nona and her stories — the ones that surrounded the stars, the planets, the unseen forces you couldn’t begin to understand how she knew about. Sitting upon the windowsill, legs outstretched and robes spilling over the edges, you stared up while the visions from the night reappeared; reminding you just how much you yourself couldn’t get what any of it meant.

There was something strange that had happened that night. You didn’t want to admit it — not even as you had felt it as the weight of your body sunk deeply into the mattress of your bed. Your breathing had shallowed out quickly, not having known when the stars and the sky of Cruscant had faded into darkness. Into the most comfortable of darknesses soon to only be replaced. Replaced far quickly. Quicker than it ever had before, as if the universe was nullifying all the former pain that had been written in deep pen across your soul.

Peering up, you found the stars, the two that seemed to never escape you — both so bright, a strange tint of light blue, and just as you had imagined them to be, they were unaligned. The upper one slightly shifted towards the left, while the lower one favored the right. You knew then it appeared just the same as always.

What are you trying to tell me?

It was a silent ask, one that weighed quite heavy, so much so you hadn’t felt it.

That familiarity that seemed to follow you around wherever you went. Instead, he was given away by his footsteps, his shoes appearing much louder than your bare feet had been. Your fingers shifted upon your knees without even realizing, the air warming around them as the voice filled your ears.

“Hey,” it was gentle, soft, as if trying not to startle you.

At the immediate familiarity, a small huff escaped your lips, eyes closing for a mere moment at the awful timing. Then as your attention returned to your surroundings, the energy of him became just as apparent as it always had been. Sighing, you opened your eyes again and turned to look within the small corridor. He was leaning against the windowsill near your feet, having come from around the corner without you even noticing.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, just as softly back, as you took in his frame, unaware you even had been doing it.

His hair was slightly mousled from sleep, the skin around his eyes red as if he had been rubbing them. Long loose pants covered his lower half while a robe was tied quickly around his waist, but not tight enough as you were able to see the bare skin of his chest peeking through. You tried to ignore the sudden stir you felt just at the mere sight alone, hoping more than anything he couldn’t sense every single thought running through your mind.

Stepping closer, the light from the moon washed over him incandescently, and you scolded yourself internally for having even noticed. Especially now that most, if not all, the frustrations towards him had faded, forming into something else entirely.

He ignored your question, instead taking in your bare feet, which led to bar legs sticking out from your robe, that familiar quirk forming along his lips, “Can I sit?”

A second of hesitation, and then you were nodding, pulling your legs up closer to your chest to give him some room. He slid up across from you, his back resting against the opposite wall, his legs following. You tried not to stare so much as he got comfortable, but you felt your throat tighten slightly as his legs widened, leaving room for your own. The windowsill wasn’t long enough, leaving the outside of your legs to press along the inside of his — your bare skin able to feel the soft material of his pants and the warmth admitting from within them.

Stare sliding up his frame quicker than you would have liked, you found him already staring over at you intently, too much so that you began to fiddle with your fingers, almost willing to start picking at them but knowing better. You didn’t want him to see how nervous you truly were, whether it was because of your dream or him, though you weren’t really sure which was at the forefront of your mind.

His knee bumped yours enough to keep your eyes on his, and you felt your confines weakening slightly, even if that meant him getting to see just what you were feeling at that moment.

“You never answered my question,” you opposed, not willing to back down then wishing to see the way his expressions shifted, “What are you doing here?”

He smirked, almost like it was inevitable to tease you at least a little bit when that furrow appeared between your brows, “You’ve been thinking awfully hard for how late it is. Though I’m not sure what about. All I know is, it was hard not to feel how upset you were from only a few halls away.”

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath, unable to hold it back, “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

He laughed, unable to hold back at how cute you sounded swearing like that, and as he did, his knee bumped yours again. “No. I was already awake.”

That furrow deepend then, frowning at the mere possibility of him being unable to sleep as well. Able to read your features clearly, he sighed as if hesitant to admit it to you, though he knew the only way for the trust between you to strengthen was to be honest. You didn’t know him, not much past the sly smiles, the wit he was told by your dear master to keep to a minimum and the brief moments of softness he had displayed to you. Other than that, there wasn’t much else.

You two knew more about each other’s body language, the way their pulse quickened, or the feelingsound in the other’s head more so than the past, or much else. It hadn’t had the means to be brought up, not until then.

“I don’t sleep well anymore.”

“What do you mean?” you asked carefully, slightly shocked as it seemed you had been so consumed in your own sleeping habits lately that you hadn’t been able to feel through your senses that he had been struggling too,

“My mother,” he explained softly, knowing now he would have to explain it all to you, “It was a vision or a dream, perhaps, I’m not really fucking sure. But somehow, she was in my arms, and she was dying.”

“Anakin,” you gasped, “How long ago was this?”

He shrugged, “A week or so ago. They’ve only become more frequent since then. These dreams of my mother.”

Your face softened, eyes widening slightly. His stare never wavered from your own as he reveled in your reactions. He had been holding it in for so long, silently dealing with this pain, this fear. You had only agreed to stay a month or so ago, and he didn’t want to do something that might weaken this sudden bond you two had seemed to have.

“Where is she now?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“Tatooine.”

Your brows lifted then at the name of the planet, one of many you had studied immensely in your time of preparing to be queen. It required a lot from you, having to understand the political issues that overtook them all, their forms of government, and the allies and enemies of each. Upon hearing that name, you couldn’t have even imagined that Anakin had possibly been from Tatooine.

“Tatooine, so she’s…”

He nodded, “A slave? Yes. I was too. And then, when I was nine, I met Qui-Gon, and we struck up a deal. If I won the Boonta Eve Podrace, and he betted on me, he would have enough money to buy my freedom.”

“And you won?” you smiled softly, unable not to as this was the first time you were hearing about his childhood. A childhood that wasn’t perfect, was different than your own, but was him. It was something you had found yourself wondering about for months now; where was he from, what were his parents like, what kind of kid was he? All of these questions, you felt too afraid to ever ask — worried what the answers would be.

“And I won. Then he brought me here to train under Obi-Wan. It’s been ten years, and I’ve thought about her every day since I left. I promised I would go back for her, but…”

“The code,” you finished for him, cringing slightly at the thought.

Relationships and attachments were forbidden, even among parents and children.

“I would. I want to more than anything. I just haven’t had the opportunity. I know how fucking awful that sounds. It truly is—”

“Stop. It’s not. I get it,” you said cutting him off while also reaching forward without even realizing to place your hand on his knee. It was warm and reminded you so much of the day that he had taken your hand in his, the day he had convinced you to stay. The day he silently promised you he could be the one person to trust.

He traced the small touch with his blue orbs, one of the first touches you had ever initiated on your own. You bowed your head slightly, a flush appearing along your cheeks, suddenly second-guessing how natural it had all felt. Feeling inclined to retract your hand, a small smile appeared along his lips, one that was different than you had ever seen before. It was a look you wished to see for as long as possible, so you decided against pulling away.

“One day, you will rescue her. Promises aren’t taken lightly when it’s a Jedi making them. You meant your word, and I know at the first possible chance you will do as you say.”

He nodded, a calmness now falling over him he hadn’t been able to grasp since he had woken up in a cold sweat, panic seeping throughout his body, eyes unable to look or find anything to hold his attention long enough to forget about the crumpled form of his mother. Not until suddenly, you were sitting in front of him, touching him the way you were while saying all the things he needed so desperately to hear. He couldn’t help but react by covering your hand with his own, the warmth encapsulating the coldness of yours in a gentle squeeze.

“And what about you?” he asked, drawing your stare away from your joined hands.

“W-What about me?” you stuttered lightly, hating how something as simple as his hand could pull such a reaction out of you.

“Why are you awake? What has gotten you so worked up that I felt I had to come find you?”

Though he wasn’t wrong, you hated that he put it that way. As if he needed to come in and save you at every chance he got — all to silence the many demons that filtered in throughout your head. You didn’t like the thought, the idea of depending on him so much, that he could feel exactly what you were feeling. How much further would it go?

None of this made sense. The force didn’t make sense. Anakin didn’t make sense. The way he cared about you was too much, and sometimes you wished more than anything you could sever this connection with the hope that he didn’t have to feel so obligated to protect you all the time. That night and that dream only made it all worse.

If it were true, you didn’t know what you were going to do.

“Y/N?” Anakin asked, his thumb beginning to rub gentle circles on the back of your palm and you hated how your pulse began to speed up at the small action. He could sense your apprehension paired with the look in your eyes, the fear of saying anything at all.

“I—uh— don’t even know how to make sense of what tonight was.”

“Just try.”

You inhaled, that furrow returning between your brows and a hand running through your hair, unsure of how much you could even say. What did you even know? “I thought it was a dream, but now I think it might have been a memory maybe — something I haven’t thought of in years.”

“Okay…” he replied carefully, trying to communicate in every way that he was fully listening to whatever you had to say.

“I was somehow in Bakura within the backyard of the capital in our arbor. It was green and full of life and so, so beautiful. And Nona, my grandmother was there telling her stories, some that I always told myself to not believe. I was eight, sitting there just listening to every single thing she said. I forgot how young I used to be and so happy. I had never seen myself like that, and it was the strangest thing,” you laughed sadly, eyes glassing over slightly as the images of that night seemed to resurface, appearing just as they had been in the moment, “It was like I was even there, Anakin but almost a ghost, watching it all.”

Anakin, with his hand still wrapped around yours, was leaning forward, eyes never wavering as he listened and tried to make sense of it. His brows knit together as he tried to make sense of you. As you met his eyes then, you felt your breath almost fall short at how intently he was staring.

Inhaling, that smile dropped slightly, “Nona was telling me some story about the stars. The Soul Stars, she called them. This one always felt different from all of the rest, as if everything she said was true. I was asking her a question about them, but then my mother appeared, and she sent me away to find my father. That was the last thing I could remember and where the memory should have ended, with me running off towards the capital, but it didn’t. Instead, I found myself watching them, the way they argued, about me, about something they were keeping from me. So, I don’t know if this was merely a dream or…”

“Or something else. Something the force could be trying to tell you,” Anakin finished your unspoken thought, your two expressions appearing so similar as you tried to realize what exactly could be occurring, between his dream and your own.

“It sounds crazy, I know, but it felt so real and so familiar. If I had known sooner, years ago, maybe I could have set this all straight, but my mother died not long after that, and now I can’t help but wonder. Wonder if she was hiding something? If m—my father knew.”

“It’s not crazy,” he said, hand loosening around yours, just enough for his fingers to intertwine with yours. He pulled on them gently. “Not at all.”

“How could any of this be possible?”

“Sometimes it just is. There’s no explanation, no possible reasoning. Impossibilities are possible until proven otherwise. Master used to always tell me that when I first became his Padawan. Being a Jedi, the ability to move things with your mind, know what others are feeling, thinking — none of it should be possible, and yet it is our reality.”

You hummed, peering out of the window once more at the pair of stars. Could it really be? Two souls connected so immensely. But what did that mean? Connected. What did any of it mean?

It was as if he could hear your thoughts then, and maybe he had because he was whispering your name so softly while pulling on your fingers again to draw your attention. Eyes finding his again, you melted slightly at the sight. The way his brows were raised, a look that was so warm reflecting off his face, and a slight lift of his lips.

“I feel like there could be something wrong with me,” you admitted, and he couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound deep, felt throughout your own chest as if it had been you who was the one who made the noise and not him.

That warm expression seemed to only deepen, forming into the most beautiful smile while he reached forward, his fist bumping lightly along your chin. You tried to ignore the way it lingered there for a second longer. “There is nothing wrong with you. That’s a ridiculous thing to say.”

“But—”

“But what?”

Holding back, you bit onto your lower lip, unable to say anything more. Because what else was there to say? What else, when you didn’t know everything there was to know? Other than the strange feeling you got within the middle of your chest and at the bottom of your stomach whenever he was around somehow dimming all the anger you once had to almost nothing.

“Y/N, you’re doing well. So well.”

“Anakin…” you trailed off, but he only silenced you with a narrowed look and another squeeze of your cold palm.

“Don’t try to diminish anything that I’m saying. You’re too hard on yourself.”

“Perhaps I’m just cautious. Waiting for something to happen or waiting around for the day that I finally fuck up, and become someone worth being disappointed in,” you explained, suddenly unable to withhold his touch, the way it could have muted every fear to ever appear within your mind — you felt unworthy of him, of his kindness then, enough so you pulled your hand away instead to pick at the skin around your nails.

He watched this, his stomach twisting with discomfort at your need to retreat, at your need to cause your fingers to bleed. “I wish you didn’t think that way.”

“Well, I’m afraid, Anakin. I don’t know how else to think of it. There is no other way to. I’m afraid of what I might do.”

You were staring down at your fingers, unable to look up at him, too nervous to, and in doing so, you focused on the loose skin around your nailbeds. Silence hung in the air as you pulled at the skin, enough for it to tear and start bleeding from how deep you truly had dug with your fingernail.

“Stop that!” he scolded, voice thick, deeper than you had ever heard it as he reached forward, yanking your hand away but back within his own. He stared at the blood, the way it flowed, sure to drip off your finger at any moment. “There is no need to be afraid. I will protect you. Since the first day I met you, I’ve known. Known that I could and always will protect you.”

The question was slipping from your parted lips as if he was pulling them from you. “Could you protect me even from myself?”

A moment, this prolonged pause of time stilled by the mere sound of his soft breath and the knitting of his brows. There was a small frown evident upon his pink lips, as if he was truly able to feel every insecurity, every ounce of fear that could be felt from your end; every inclination of uncertainty that flooded your body, your sole being. He could feel it all, and within that pause, those few seconds, his hand once again tight around yours he was filled with the most conviction you had ever seen

“I know it doesn’t seem like it all of the time, but I would do anything to keep you safe.”

How in a matter of months had it come to this? You weren’t sure. To see through your eyes what the two of you were, none of it could have been true, cruel intentions masked by the simplest affections. That’s what it had become. A lie behind your visions, distracted by his handsomeness and the mere enticingness that came from his smirk or the color of his eyes when they found yours from across the room. It could have not been real. That idea can’t be the most plausible but a figment of what you wish could be.

A Jedi shall not know anger.

Nor hatred.

Nor love.

You had experienced two in the span of a few weeks within your training, and now you couldn’t help but worry you would fall victim to the last as well. The last of the forbidden causes that came with being a Jedi. You couldn’t. Not when you had come as far as you did; in your training, in your ability to trust, in the ways of simple living that came with being one with the force. There wasn’t room for any more. There wasn’t room for Anakin Skywalker, and yet he was always there. Almost like a lightsaber to your hip, a protector as he claimed to be, but also the young man who would find ways to scare you, making you jump as he snuck up behind you. He also was the man who would tease you any chance he could as if the sight of you rolling your eyes or your brows furrowing was the only sight he wished to ever see.

He wasn’t insufferable as you once had deemed him to be and never cruel but thought of himself highly enough to still throw half-witted comments towards you anytime you were training even with Master present, more so if he was present. You thought he had been everywhere before, able to feel him all of the time, but that was minuscule compared to now, compared to how this connection had forged the two of you into the ability to feel so close it was as if you were sleeping next to one another. Sometimes, you swore you could hear his heart beating or the gentle lull of his breath, on rare occasions, he could actually sleep throughout the night. It was only on those few nights when he wasn’t with you.

It had become a habit, you had found, to be seated within the small corridor of the temple, sitting upon that damn windowsill, legs always pressed against one another. You had found you didn’t sleep well anymore either. It wasn’t even that you were having more visions, memories, or dreams but that you were kept up late at night by just the single mysteries of the one and how it seemed to coincide so much with how you felt about the young Skywalker.

A Jedi shall not know love.

And yet you found him to be breaking through every single resolve and healing the deepest parts of sadness you hadn’t even known were there. He made you happy, and that was the greatest weakness to have, even if it had made you a better Padawan, even as it had made you a strong Jedi.

It was so much easier when you were angry, you realized. When he had you burning from the inside out and willing to hit him with training sticks because it meant you didn’t know this. This feeling.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

The voice was gentle but firm as his frame leaned over your back where you were sitting, lips close to the shell of your ear. He was far louder than he should be for the library. Leaning forward over your shoulder, his hand found the table while his waist pressed up against your back. Your breath stilled for a moment, the words in the book almost blurry to the point of no longer being able to read them.

It seemed he had found you, hiding away within the shelves of the library in the Jedi Temple. You were sat at a small table, a few books sprawled out, trying to make use of the minimal spare time you had before your next training session with master. With trials at the end of the year, there was almost no time in the evenings outside of meditation, or practices to really study the code or material. At least that’s what you had told yourself until he had appeared feeling so warm as he loomed over your frame.

You didn’t dare move but instead kept your position of sitting straight within the chair, eyes cast down at the book before you on balance and the molecular configurations of the force. It was difficult, though, as his hand and his eyes could be seen from your peripheral.

“Hello, Anakin,” you replied, a voice at a lower level, aware of the many other Padawans and Jedis that crowded other tables outside of between those two shelves.

He huffed, aware of your ignorance towards his previous statement, and instead leaned over further to get a look at the book that was open on the table. He let out the same noise when he realized what you were reading while his chest somehow was now brushed up against your neck and temple. You leaned away slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of his cologne that stuck to his tunics.

“What are you doing in here?” he grumbled as he pulled back from you and instead took a seat in the chair next to yours, but not without scooting closer to your side enough that his knee bumped yours every time his leg moved.

With his chair angled towards you, his elbow pressed up along the tabletop, you couldn’t help but peer over at him innocently, already making a note of the frustrations that filtered along his face as he leaned against his closed fist. He was already staring at you, and it made you raise a brow in interest.

“It’s the library.”

“Yes, I know that but we have like thirty minutes until our next training session with Master.”

“Which is why I am studying,” you said matter of factly.

“Y/N,” he whined then, louder this time, making you glance around the two of you suddenly embarrassed.

“Anakin, the trials are at the end of the year and I am behind.”

“You’re not that behind.”

You sent him a stern look, “You have been training to be a Jedi since you were nine, you know everything there is to know for the trials. I have at most a year to learn what you have gotten to learn in the last ten.”

“You know there is no fucking set timeline on when you need to become a Jedi, right? They hold trials every year. You don’t have to take them this year, which I am sure none of the council really would be expecting you to.”

Your throat tightened at the mere thought of being a Padawan without him, “I know that, but if I could take them this year, I would like to.”

He watched you intently the seriousness to which you said it, but as he sat there thinking, looking at you, he couldn’t help the thought that appeared. Or how it led to that smirk of his forming and that deadly glint that seemed to fill his eyes too often. “Oh, I see what’s going on here.”

“What?” you sighed, knowing even if you didn’t wish to entertain his advances, he would send them your way anyway.

“You’re worried about still being a Padawan when I pass the trials. Because then I could someday have the ability to be wise enough and be granted by the council to become a Master myself. Which means on instances where Master Obi-Wan won’t be able to meet you for lessons or training, he might ask me to fill in,” he teased, unable to hold back the steady chuckle from his chest at the mere thought or the look on your face that could only resemble both embarrassment and slight frustrations.

“Anakin.”

“It would be quite a sight, wouldn’t it. Me, Master Skywalker, with you, Padawan Y/L/N,” he shook his head, humming in satisfaction, “Now, that is something that would be fun.”

“First of all, you know that’s not plausible because Master would not ask someone else to train me in his absence, and second of all,” you paused, turning more towards him and leaning close enough that his eyes flickered across your features in interest, a look of playfulness of your own forming, “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” His tongue clicked along the inside of his cheek, a look of satisfaction forming enough for you to bow your head to peer back at the page you had reread at least twice already before he had interrupted you.

There were two seconds where you were able to find your initial place when, “So, are we getting out of here or what? I mean shit.”

You sighed then eyes finding his again but yours suddenly resembling a gentle glare.

“We have a half-an-hour. Let’s go do something fun.”

“You mean something that would get us into trouble,” you corrected, unable to stop the urge to do as he says. To close that book and leave it on that table just to follow him wherever he asked.

“Not exactly. Is that what I was referring to?”

You chuckled dryly, “They are one and the same, Anakin. Besides, you see me every waking moment of every day as well as at night. Aren’t you able to separate from me for at least thirty minutes so I can read at least two chapters?”

“Two chapters on the molecular configurations of the force. Seriously, this over hanging out with me? Really? I can say that doesn’t sound that fucking appealing. Plus, you’re wrong. I haven’t spent every waking moment with you because I didn’t see you last night. Or the night before.”

“I was sleeping,” you replied quickly, it sounding completely and utterly false the second it fell from your parted lips. Lips that had suddenly seemed to have Anakin’s attention. It made you shift within your seat, unsure if what you were seeing was actually real.

He chuckled again, his tongue poking within the inside of his cheek, his jaw tightening slightly as matched your stare, “And now you’re just lying. I’m sorry, my lady, but it’s not quite a good look on you, so I’m afraid I am going to have to apprehend you from this boring ass library and take you with me.”

You couldn’t help but stare at him then, a smile forming on your lips, unable to hide any of it as he stood from the chair. A cocky grin accompanied that young handsome face of his as he barely glanced away from your form to close the book with a small thud.

“You’re ridiculous you know that.”

“No, I’m just better than you,” he said then, that smirk never ceasing as his stare once again flickered down to your parted lips smiling for him nevertheless, “Now, come on, I’ll make your time somewhat useful, and show you how to do my backspin with the lightsabers. Maybe, then you can get used to the idea of Master Skywalker.”

You didn’t have any more grievances then, only able to stand and follow him through the library, somehow at a loss of how something that felt like this could be so wrong in the eyes of the people who were deemed good.

“You’ve been doing very well, Y/N. Everything that a young apprentice should be,” Master Obi-Wan complimented, glancing at you briefly from the corner of his eye as he continued walking ahead with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Thank you, Master,” you responded, voice a mere mumble as you stared forward at the Temple’s garden before you, seeming to be one of the few things that remained untouched by the city.

It was fresh, luminous, shades of bright green with looming trees and large bushes, many decorated with the most beautiful flowers and arches. It was something you had been desperately needing, some fresh air, some wisdom from the older Jedi, having been nothing but stuck in your head for most of the day, which appeared like most days.

Anakin had done what he had promised and spent all of his thirty minutes of free time before training, showing you how to successfully engage in his backspin, unable to keep the Master Skywalker jokes to a minimum. Though you had only landed the move twice, you couldn’t help the way your face ached from the smile that never dared to disappear at the sight of him.

It was something Obi-Wan had noticed as he had watched from the hallway for a few minutes before entering for the training session. He was taken aback at first — at that look upon your face, the smiles, the lingering stares, the soft touches Anakin always engaged in first. It seemed he had been a little blind himself those past few months, lost in the bliss of his two Padawans finally getting along because perhaps it was more than he realized, more than a sense of camaraderie, more than just a bond among Jedi.

He could see trouble looming — looming over his trusted apprentices, over the closest thing that had resembled a son, the chosen one. It was the same trouble that seemed to be mirroring your face then. As if the solemness had returned upon the young Skywalker’s absence.

“You are quiet,” Obi-Wan observed, stopping at the fountain near the middle of the garden.

You hadn’t even realized you had walked that far.

“I’m sorry?” you asked, seeming to not have heard him the first time.

“You’re quiet, my Padawan.”

You bowed your head slightly in shame that you had found your mind drifting, so much so you were unable to listen to Obi-Wan for more than a few minutes.

“You’re deep in thought. Pondering such things I cannot know, so speak.”

“I’m afraid that I am behind in my training,” you admitted then, the very thing you had been admitting to Anakin over and over again deep into the night.

“Behind? I would say you are advancing quite well. Just as I would expect you to be.”

“But not fast enough to be ready in time for the trials.”

At your confession, Obi-Wan fully turned to face you then, no longer content at staring at the foliage around the two of you but instead the worry that elapsed across your soft features. “The trials? You wish to participate in the trials this year?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Y/N, that has never been done before, do you understand that? Padawans require years of training to ever reach the mental and physical competence to become a Jedi. You are lucky the council granted our ask for you to become a Padawan at all. It has never been done to even accept someone at your age.”

“I understand, it’s just—”

“It’s just Anakin,” he cut you off, the name falling freely then from Obi-Wan’s lips, and it was enough to stun you momentarily.

“Anakin?” you asked confusion showing.

“I see how close the two of you have gotten. There is a connection there between two Padawans I have yet to see, maybe ever. Far different than I can say your father and I were. It would be hard, I know, to imagine him passing the trials, possibly leaving to engage in war, or traveling to protect those that require him.”

“Master I…”

“It’s a connection I hope I haven’t mistaken for fondness. I would hope your feelings wouldn’t cloud your judgment or even his. He is the chosen one with a responsibility to end this war. You know better. I have taught you. Jedi shall not know love,” he lectured, each and every word diminishing every confidence you had had before, every thoughtful task that didn’t have anything to do with the chosen one.

You smiled awkwardly then, suddenly feeling as if you were being looked at under a microscope at risk of being accused of distracting the very Jedi that this war depends on. “I can assure you, Master, that love is not a word to use here. Not even close. This isn’t about him, sir. He has been a comfort, I will not deny that, but to assume I would ask of this because of him is…”

The truth was you hadn’t thought much about that, last night when you lay awake. It had been a passing thought, one you couldn’t focus on — the inevitable that would certainly lead to the two of you apart one way or another with a certain strain on this newfound connection you were still trying to explain.

“What is it then, Y/N?” he asked, a single brow raised, certainly surprised by my recollection of his words and your choice of response.

“It’s just I can’t fathom the thought, the thought of wasting away most of my twenties being an apprentice, this young Padawan who has yet to accomplish anything. I want to be able to be active, make a change, have a voice, and teach. I was made and brought up to be a queen. I can’t possibly let that be a waste.”

He tutted softly as if thinking, as if wondering just how exactly to advise to bring about a lesson to our words. You weren’t sure if he completely believed you or if he could ever see past the evident connection you and Anakin had formed, whatever it may be, but you couldn’t also deny the small ache that had been lingering almost in the wake of where that anger and grief used to gather.

“It would not be a waste, my young princess,” Obi-Wan said, the title you hadn’t heard in so long, hurting even worse, “You see, it’s not about when you do it; when you teach, make changes, become this unstoppable figure the rest of the senate and council will listen to. It’s not about when but that you just do. Being young won’t make you any more respectable than if you accomplished any of it at my age or even older.”

You couldn’t look away, especially as the kindness and deliberation were seen through his eyes. There was such a care you hadn’t expected from him, not yet, at least not like this. And yet he also had the ability to disappoint you completely as he sighed, the worst admission granting your ears, “But with that being said, I don’t think you will be ready for the trials. I can try my best to teach you everything I know, but I would advise you to wait.

It’s a connection I hope I haven’t mistaken for fondness. I would hope your feelings wouldn’t cloud your judgment or even his. He is the chosen one with a responsibility to end this war.

Jedi shall not know love.

You hated it. You hated how Obi-Wan could even assume that of you. To love Anakin? It seemed impossible. It had only been months. Some of which were unpleasant. The others, you were still very well trying to wrap your head around. Then most of all to assume you would want to participate in the trials to remain close to him. How could he even think all of that? That when you hadn’t even the ability to confirm if there was a connection that was more than what either of you had been told.

You had tried, retired to the library so many times. Just hoping you could find anything on the Stars of L’âme. Anything that could explain the story, the myth, the possible scientific evidence to its existence, but to no avail, you came up short-handed because how could the Temple have anything that could even allude to love. It wouldn’t.

Enough so you were left in your chambers staring up at the ceiling once again, unable to sleep, unable to even shut your mind off long enough to succumb to darkness. It would be far too kind to you then, far too inviting. You needed it based on the dark circles that were starting to appear. It had to have been past midnight, sure to be even two but you couldn’t know for sure as you were completely unable to move or look anywhere else but the paneling of the ceiling.

That is until a knock sounded on your door. It was soft but loud enough to rip through the silence and your solid gaze. Sitting up slowly, you found yourself unable to move from the confines as if needing to know you weren’t hearing things. A second passed, and then two before the knock sounded again. This time slightly louder. Sliding from the bed, you walked across the room to the front door, unable to deny how cold the floor felt along your bare feet.

You pulled the door open without so much as another thought, and it opened with a small hiss, the compressions releasing from how they were locked. Dim lights streamed in from the hallway, and you had to blink a couple of times for your eyes to adjust, and as they did, you exhaled, almost expecting it.

Anakin peered up at the sound of the door, and his smile faltered for a moment at the sight of you. Whatever he was going to say seemed suddenly lost and rather replaced by the way his lips parted with ease, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, no longer meeting your own. It was then that you realized you hadn’t grabbed a robe to pull on over your night dress before answering the door. As if you were too desperate that you had to eliminate the barrier between the two of you.

It seemed he hadn’t been expecting it either with the way he traced the cream silk with ease, voice lost, even more so as they rose to meet where the dress dipped a little too low upon your chest. It was the first time he had ever seen you in a dress, or something that was less than the robes or training shirts you often wore. Even on nights where the two of you were sat in the windowsill, a long robe, usually one of his old ones covered the rest of you from not only the coldness of the empty hallways but his stare as well.

Dipping even lower, they traced how the material hugged your waist, sinching slightly to the way it draped off your hips. Your bare legs were smooth, even with the minimal light he had in the hallway. He knew there was no mistaking any of it, though, even the initial dip within the valley of your breasts.

He appeared in loose pants and a long tunic, no robe, but still dressed as you usually found him, and there was no denying how it always made you feel. Clearing your throat, those blue eyes snapped up to meet yours, and the way a light dust of pink had appeared along the apples of your cheeks.

“You’re awake,” he surveyed.

“Yes,” you admitted with ease, knowing there was no point in lying as he would know.

“You’re awake,” he repeated, eyes tracing the expanse of your neck and the way your hair framed your face, “And you’re not at the window.”

“Anakin,” you protested but he wouldn’t let you get a word in as his moment of stuntedness seemed to fade quickly, “That makes night number three. Looks like you could be avoiding me.”

“I’ve been trying to get some sleep. It’s been days, you know since I’ve had any.”

He hummed, no longer ashamed in the way his eyes raked your form, unable to really ignore the way his body was so willing to react to yours, “You’ve been awake for at least an hour. Usually, it won’t take you that long to fall asleep if you’re really willing to try, and I waited at least twenty minutes to see if you would before coming to your door.”

He knew that he had you. You knew that he had you. So much so that you signed almost in defeat, arms crossing over your chest without even thinking much of it. “Okay, so what do you want?”

His eyes flickered down but only for a second, perhaps half of one, before meeting your gaze once more, that charming look about him forming again. He smiled, “I want you to grab a robe. There’s something I’ve been wanting to show you.”

“It’s late,” you surveyed, peeking slightly around him to peer into the dark hallway void of anyone else.

“And?” he asked, raising a brow as he sarcastically replied, “It’s never stopped you before.”

You huffed loudly then, knowing there was no way for you to convince him to turn, leave your doorway, and retire to his own room for the rest of the night. He was there, and he knew what he wanted, which was for you to follow him out into the dark corridors. To anyone else, it was almost him asking for trouble, but you could never deny someone as painstakingly handsome as him, especially if it meant you got a few extra hours where his attention belonged to you and you alone.

It was something you come to find you were jealous of and wish to have more of — his eyes, his attention, his looming voice. You wanted it all.

“Fine,” you mumbled, turning on your heels quickly to walk over to where the robe you had been wearing earlier in the evening while you were getting ready hung up behind another door. It happened to be one of Anakin’s old ones; it was too small to fit him now.

You took it quickly and slipped it around your shivering frame, and as you turned, you found Anakin poking his head in through the wide-open door, eyes suddenly transfixed on the room as he tried to take it all in. It was a room he had never been in, this place that was yours.

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Smile as you followed him out into the dark corridors, knowing then, and always you would probably do whatever he asked of you.

“Where are we going?” you asked, trying to keep up with his long strides, almost inclined to reach out for his hand.

Anakin looked over at you, smirking lightly, “Why would I tell you? You’ve been ignoring me for a few nights now. It’s more fun watching you squirm.”

“Right, of course, it is.”

Noticing the small worry line that appeared between your eyebrows, he couldn’t help but laugh down at you, unable to keep from bumping his shoulder into yours, “Relax, will you? It’s nothing serious. I think you’ll like it, actually.”

With that, a silence lingered, setting it between the two of you. You weren’t sure of what else to say, or if there was anything else to say, so you merely followed him as he led you further and further into the temple, away from your chambers and the emptiness that was your bed. There was no comfort to you then with your silent thoughts other than the gentle brush of his fingers along the back of your palm every once in a while as you walked. The first time it happened, surprising you to the point of looking over at him to find him still staring forward as if he hadn’t felt it at all, and maybe he hadn’t.

It was at least a three-minute walk until his steps had slowed down, making their way through the darkness with you slightly behind. Rounding the corner of an empty hallway in the East Wing of the temple, he continued down it until he stopped about three-quarters of the way until he was in front of a large metal door. It towered over him slightly but not by much. Reaching forward to the keypad, he glanced at you over his shoulder quickly, a small smile of his forming at the sight of you peering up at him in anticipation.

He chuckled, the sound gracing your ears as he input the code, followed by the pound key, which let out a short-lived beep matching the green light that flashed as the door decompressionized. A small hiss sounded from the steam, and you felt your pulse spike. This room was on higher lockdown than most, you realized. One you hadn’t ever been in, and if you hadn’t ever been, maybe you shouldn’t be.

If it were any other time, you would have stopped him and asked if you should be doing this, but you couldn’t care. Not when Obi-Wan had accused you of going against the code as well as not being a good enough Jedi to participate in the trials. You were tired of doing what was expected of you over the past six months, not when you felt so much more with Anakin, even if it was as simple as sneaking off at night.

Stepping past the threshold of the door, you were once again confined into darkness, having quickly lost Anakin as his footsteps echoed further into the vast room. “Anakin?”

“Just turning on the lights,” he answered smugly as the door closed behind you, locking once the door had snuggly sat within the doorway.

It was cold, and the first thing you noticed among your bare legs was the floor, surely metal panels underneath your shoes. The room was completely void of any windows, and it wasn’t until you heard the click of a switch before golden light pooled from the ceilings that you knew where Anakin was. As the beams appeared, you blinked for a moment, adjusting to the new soft light; it dimmed slightly but still enough for you to find Anakin just a few feet away by the light switch.

He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, taking you in as you suddenly began to look around the room. It was larger than you would have expected and dull, with boring walls and cold floors. Dull all but for the many things that seemed coated around the room, some nestled into piles, others left alone. A room you truly had never been in, and you knew then why. It was a room for the children, the younglings, the Jedi who are so young they haven’t even fully comprehended the loss of being separated from their parents. So much so that this room basically served as a fun park while they adjusted to their new environment as well as their training.

There were beams, large mats, a pit with foam blocks in it, various lightsaber training sticks, and rubber balls — all bright colors seeming to bring life into the faded room. Then right in the middle, a part of the tiled floor was removed and replaced with a rectangular mesh, almost thin pool. You had never seen something like it before, and you couldn’t help but look over at Anakin in confusion. Confusion of why, out of all of the places in the temple, he had brought you here, a place sanctioned for Jedi that was no more than ten-years-old.

“It’s for the younglings,” he spoke then, pushing himself off from the wall, his voice echoing slightly in the empty room. “Created to help ease the transition. They are taken away from all that they know; their families, their friends, some young but not young enough to have forgotten. They are still children, even more so, still capable of remembering what having fun was like.”

Pushing another light switch, another set came on around the mesh fabric, a bright blue that reminded you of the color of your lightsaber — it was neon, glowing, calling you to follow Anakin as he stepped closer to it. “This was my favorite place to be.”

You listened intently as he then kicked off his shoes, being left in socks, and stepped forward onto the mesh floor. You were holding your breath then as it dipped, almost seeming to absorb his weight, and slingshotting back up to create a small bounce under his feet.

“And this, well let’s just say it took Master hours to get me to leave.”

“What is it?” you asked walking close enough to where his shoes were left.

Moving from the center of the mesh floor, he approached the edge, sticking out a single hand for you to take, “It’s used for the younglings when they are first beginning to learn to levitate, flip, stuff like that.”

Slipping your own shoes off, you took his hand and stepped forward onto the bendable floor. You stared down, curious of the way it dipped under your weight, bent, feeling as if you were floating in mid-air with no solid ground under your feet. Anakin was laughing, you knew that much, entertained by the kid-like wonder that was appearing across your face.

With his hand still wrapped around yours, you looked up at him, a brow raised and a small smile forming along your own lips, “Now what?”

“And now we jump!”

Before you knew it, he had his other hand wrapped around yours as he jumped up into the air, bringing you with him. Your lips fell open in shock as you came back down, only to bounce back up higher than you would have been able to do on your own. A laugh escaped, it sounding so carefree and natural that Anakin couldn’t help but laugh too. The sound is enough to make your chest flutter.

You found the more you jumped, the higher you went, enough to create excitement, goosebumps to appear, and this lightness to flush your whole body. One you really hadn’t felt in years, like suddenly all of the weight you had been struggling with, compressing you into someone else entirely, was temporarily gone. All you could feel was the air shifting around you and how inevitably right it all was. How, even after nights of ignoring Anakin, it always would feel right.

And how perhaps Obi-Wan had been onto something.

It plagued your mind over the next thirty minutes with the two of you spent jumping, Anakin going as far as to do flips and different tricks he had first learned when he was nine and transferred into his training with force and levitation. You could only watch in awe with the most pure smile on your face — the world seeming to be at a standstill for just a little while.

So much so that by the time hours had passed, the two of you were lying down on the trampoline, letting the fabric leave imprints on the back of your legs and arms. You were tired. He was able to see it in your eyes but neither of you could even fathom leaving yet, not when you both were smiling the way you were at ease finally.

You were lying on your side, head balancing along the inside of your palm, facing Anakin, fully engaged in the questions he asked about Bakura — about what your favorite place was, how it was able to succeed within the capital, the political tendencies of your people. He found himself asking question after question, completely sucked into getting to know as much as possible, all because it was you. Bakura, even when it was gone, no longer levitating within space, spinning with life upon it, it was still you; in every way.

“So when you were to become queen, in simpler terms, you would have become a politician?” The question was so innocent, but you felt the grumble around the sole word. Anakin was facing you, his leg bumping yours, his body mirroring yours in the way he leaned his head against his palm, a mere few inches separating you two.

You knew how he felt about them; politicians, senators, the whole lot. He found the majority of them corrupt, even those who had established the Republic up from the ground. How could he not? He felt politics were void of anything he valued, most of all including compassion. There was no surprise when he began asking questions about your own system, a Monarchy, which in itself was just another way to rule other than the Democracy he had grown up within.

“A ruler,” you corrected.

“I find them to be the same. Though we live in a Democracy, we are ruled by politicians; indirectly, they decide how things will run, corroborate what citizens should believe or not believe, and then, with support, are able to put those things into power.”

“Maybe they are similar, but they are not the same, not really. I would have been a queen, yes, a single ruler, but it would have been more than just a title. I would have made sure of it. There is a council, you know, one like the Jedi Order or the Senate, where the royal family can lean on and have support while making decisions. I would have trusted them to help me lead, and I would have listened to those who wished to be heard and make changes within the council ship and the city,” you explained, the thoughts coming with ease as you imagined what your life surely could have been like had Bakura remained untouched, “I would have made things the way they were supposed to be.”

He didn’t say anything at first, too lost in the way you looked, that hopeful glint in your eyes diminishing quickly at the reality that set in, the loss of your power, your ability to invoke change. He could only admire you as you talked, passionately wishing to change the world.

There was a pause before he decided to reply with a light chuckle laced within his words. “That’s something a politician would say.”

“And so what?” you countered, pushing him back lightly enough that he almost fell back onto the trampoline, “What is so wrong with that? It was what I was made to become. I would have been great at it, you know. Being queen.”

“Is that what you wanted, though?” he asked then, laughter falling away to a serious ask. He was closer now, only a few inches or so apart, close enough you were able to see the different blues that appeared in his eyes and the gentle lines around the corners of his lips.

“I’m not sure what I wanted then. I wasn’t really ever asked because that’s what I would be made to be.”

He hummed then, eyes flickering down to the annoyed frown that appeared across your lips, somehow mirroring the flash of frustrations that reflected in your eyes. “And what about a king?”

“A king?” you repeated, his question taking you by surprise, to which he nodded, proving that he was indeed serious. You couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the thought, “Yes, well, there would have been a king. I’m sure some Lord or politician you wouldn’t like very much would have been chosen.”

You expected him to laugh or smile, perhaps smirk at the way you teased him, but he didn’t. His only response was a furrow of his brows. “Chosen? You mean like arranged?”

“Yes.”

“But your parents—”

“My parents were an exception,” you said almost solemnly as if you were reliving your previous life, just how much it resembled a sort of prisoner rather than a ruler, “My father was wise, a Jedi, who left the Jedi Council for my mother. He was different, and a kingdom can’t rely on random men to be great rulers. That’s how royal families are destroyed, and cities fall.”

There was a pause on his end, a slight inhale as his eyes began to swirl with even more questions and uncertainty at the reality of your previous life. He couldn’t help but swing his legs around and sit up, stare never wavering as a certain edge appeared in his voice then, “That day, when I… were you arranged to be married?”

You shook your head, “No. My mother hadn’t quite found anyone yet. I would imagine him, though, you know, make him up in my head and try to make it seem less awful than it really was.”

“What was he like?”

You laughed suddenly confused by his ask, “What?”

“The king? Your king?” he clarified, and at that, you couldn’t help but bow your head, a blush forming along the apples of your cheeks, suddenly feeling embarrassed by it.

“Anakin,” you protested but didn’t get very far as he sent you a narrowed look, his hand flicking at the back of yours with annoyance. “Fine.”

You took a moment, to inhale, to breathe, and remember to six months before. To when you hadn’t known him, Anakin Skywalker. To when you were just the princess of Bakura, not a Jedi, a woman able to be open to love, but only the love chosen for you. It was enough to have you make up a man, the perfect man, to whom you thought about day and night for almost two years with the hope he would end the torment that would be an arranged marriage.

“I thought of him as tall with dark curls. Light eyes that could capture my soul, it seemed, and this certain look, a soft smile about him where he seemed to always be in favor of teasing me. He would be strong-willed and willing to hold power, but not so much that he would overshadow what I thought. And also passionate, know what it’s like to feel and accept the fact,” you explained then, unable to face him or look him in the eyes as you couldn’t help but recount just what you had always wanted.

It somehow matched the young Padawan who had gone on to rescue you the day that Bakura was burning and the Jedi before you then. How had that happened? How had it been so perfect, so true, as if the stars themselves had sent him?

Anakin felt his chest tighten, at each and every word you whispered with uncertainty as if afraid. He knew, though, he could see you were telling the truth, by the mere quiver in your lip to the way you thought carefully with a crinkle in between your brows that this wasn’t something you were saying on the spot but rather what you had always thought and believed. He wanted to take your hand in his or do something to get you to look at him, to acknowledge how it all sounded then. Because he couldn’t deny the similarities, the way it felt as if you had been describing him, recounting each thing about him other than the physicalities.

A Jedi shall not know love.

He couldn’t though. He knew he couldn’t.

“And I suppose…” he trailed, pausing to watch the way your eyes flickered up to meet his again, anticipating what he was going to say next. He smirked, unable to stop himself as he said, “He would believe in the politics of a dictatorship. Support the act of one ruler.”

You stared over at him, watching as his expression shifted, a light filling his irises and the corners of his lips lifting into a smile as a laugh escaped. “You’re making fun of me.”

“No, I’d be much too frightened to tease a princess.”

At the title, the only title you had wished for him to never call you again, brought about another feeling then, one of what could only be described as warmth. One that had a small blush appearing on your face but also a need to shove him over. He could only laugh though at the sight of your embarrassment, at the way you could fold under his teasing, his touch as he reached forward to take both your wrists in his hands.

Before you could gain your footing, he had pulled you up from where you were sitting, both his arms looping around your lower back, still laughing, head dipped back slightly as he stood upon the trampoline.

“Anakin,” you warned, trying to squirm out of his grip.

It only tightened then, your feet hanging mid-air as he began to jump up on the trampoline, somehow still able to go just as high with you in his arms as he had been by himself. You were half-laughing but also half-yelling, arms suddenly around his neck as you glanced down to the ground each time you were up in the air. As he got really high one time, he pretended to let you slip from his arms, enough to get a small squeal to escape, only making him laugh harder.

“Anakin, stop, don’t do that,” you scolded, though the fall would be low, “That's not funny .”

He didn’t listen, though as the next jump up, he went to do it again, but this time, he had really lost his grip on the back of you. You began to slip enough that your stomach dropped slightly. Noticing this, he tried to take hold of you again but fumbled quickly, and before you had even realized it, Anakin was on his back on the mesh floor with you harshly falling on top of him.

An exhale was pulled from his chest at the impact, and you felt your torso ache with the collision of his own. He swore under his breath, his laughter falling short, as he grumbled, head relaxing back against the fabric. With one leg wrapped around one of his and the other thrown over his thigh, you leaned over him on your elbows, torso almost flush against his, lower body slightly straddling his.

“Anakin,” with wide eyes and a nervous lilt in your voice, you couldn’t help but remain unmoving, trying to hold as much of your weight off of him, “Ani, are you alright?”

His chest tightened, stiffening at the sound of the nickname, one that was all too familiar but just not from you. He relaxed quickly though somehow liking the way it sounded from your tongue. Then he was opening one eye up towards you and then another, trying to hold back his smile as long as he could, but upon noticing the way you were chewing on your lower lip in worry, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing, his facade diminishing quickly.

At the sound, you knew he was fine, probably had been the whole time, and you couldn’t help but also start laughing but not without punching him lightly in the shoulder. He didn’t seem to care not as his arms came up to rest along your hips, hands along your back, his head a few inches from your own, unable to do anything but listen to the way your laughter sounded. The way it had never sounded like that before ever. He wanted it to last for as long as possible, just as the feeling of you sitting upon his body. He couldn’t help though to suddenly roll, you falling back onto the trampoline bouncing slightly as he hovered over you.

A breath slipped, a steady, almost whimper as the weight of his body sunk into yours comfortably, his legs parting yours with ease. Your laughter faded, a mere giggle, and then to nothing. He followed, too, until suddenly it was silent, all but the steadiness of your breathing. He was warm, so warm, strong, his body firm against your own that it had a new feeling pooling at the base of your stomach. One you had been ignoring since you had first laid your eyes on him. But it proved difficult then as his blue irises bore down into yours, his lips glistening where he had wet them with his tongue within the blue neon lights of the room.

Your eyes flickered down to them with ease, but it didn’t last long, not as you both lifted your heads at the sound of the door decompressing at the sound of the correct code being put in. Then it was opening and you both could only lay there as the figure of your Master Obi-Wan appeared. He was reaching for his lightsaber, dressed in robes he always wore to bed, sleep still cascaded in his eyes. A look of confusion that was quickly doused and replaced with a furrow and a frown at the sight before him.

You watched as Anakin lifted one hand from where it initially was pressed alongside your head, a sheepish smile appearing across his lips as he waved. “Hi, Master.”

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