#COSMIC ♡ DREAM

[nadinehunt]

@cashiiered ... liked here.

"dude, this place is fuckin' huge!" nadine has always loved convenience stores. they're familiar. "do you guys have slushies? please tell me you have the mountain dew ones."

[kedsandtubesocks]

cosmic love

Marcus Acacius x F!Reader x Marcus Pike

summary: a missing statue, a handsome ancient roman general, an equally handsome museum visitor - and you caught in the magical (and wonderful) mess of it all

tags & warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI, MAJOR GLADIATOR 2 SPOILERS. time travel AU, magic elements, pining & yearning, fluff but with touches of angst, implied age gap (Acacius being older than both reader & Marcus), light use of gendered language, bi!Marcus Acacius & bi!Marcus Pike, brief mention of death & existential questioning, spicy themes, smut (threesome, m!oral, one moment of spitting) M/M/F & M/M dynamics, polyamorous exploration that leads to eventual poly relationship, no use of y/n

word count: 7.5k

a/n: I’m sorry I blame the gladiator statue pics we got & yeah now here we are lmao, this fic literally wouldn’t be here without @pedgito & @perotovar - i can’t thank you two enough for all the help i love y’all tremendously, also a sweet special tag for @morallyinept ily too… And lastly - thank you for reading, you’re what makes this so special and magical ♡

The statue that arrived with the newly updated Roman exhibition at your museum has gained attention.

As a guide you enjoy seeing all the new faces here to check out the freshly opened installation. The heightened foot traffic has kept you and your co-workers busy, but it’s been a nice welcome.

Your eyes drift to the statue now.

General Marcus Acacius stands slightly weathered yet still commanding in his bronze glory, towering among the room with all the grace a powerful Roman Army commander would be.

You learned he conquered countless territories and countries in the name of the Ancient Roman Empire. Eventually though, he was caught in a conspiracy to overthrow the ruling emperors and died within the eyes of the coliseum, the whisper of a gladiator’s death.

Now you readily explain this all to tour groups like the one you currently guide.

“Oh, he’s cute.” One of the elementary school girls currently giggles to her friend. The other school children gasp around her, teasing her.

“It’s okay. He is pretty handsome, isn’t he?” You reassure her. The girl seems bashful but relieved at your agreement.

It wasn’t just you. A local internet influencer stopped by and even made a video about the statue being her dream guy.

Even as a statue, the General is eye-catching.

The bronze figure captured his likeness bewitchingly detailing the soft curls of his hair, a lovely sharp nose, mountainous strong broad shoulders, and a pensive stare looking out to a distant horizon. He’s a man of unwavering beauty.

You constantly want to smack yourself for being wistful over a piece of art.

“He’s definitely the most attractive statue I’ve seen.” A familiar smooth sweet voice melts into the room’s quiet softness making your heart jump.

Approaching you with a molten smile and eyes twinkling in the low museum lights, Marcus doesn’t seem real at times.

A regular visitor, you first met him when he accidentally crashed one of your tours. Wholesomely thoughtful, but also being a charming yet slightly know it all, he was quick to join in on commentary of the paintings. With his Disney prince-like smile and earnest eager energy, you couldn’t dare shoo him away.

Now you happily seek his company.

“He’s become like a hot new celebrity here.” Joking, you nudge towards the General’s striking figure.

“I can see why.” Marcus whistles low. “Like look at those shoulders.”

You snicker as a bubbling fondness swells in you.

“He unfortunately died a tragic death.” Marcus comments, cloudy and mournful.

“Yeah, I heard. That means this guy is a bad boy.” You nod.

Marcus snickers at your comment then playfully nudges you with his elbow.

Later, all your co-workers beg you to ask him out to coffee.

“He’s totally got the hots for you!” Your favorite co worker often tells you, but you wave her off.

Marcus is just sweet. He’s kind and considerate, engaging to all the workers here. Besides, you don’t want to assume he possibly likes you and maybe ruin the precious friendship you have with him.

However, your favorite coworker shows up a few days later with a solution for your stale love life.

With a cheeky bright grin, she hands you the cutest pink velvet pouch in the break room.

“It’s called a love wish tea.” She declares.

She grabbed a pack of them at the local occult shop after the lovely witch who owned the place swore it worked.

“It calls in your heart’s desires and hey, it worked for me! That’s why I still have a pack left over!” She proudly recommends.

You roll your eyes but appreciate the gift.

Shoving it into your bag, you don’t give it much thought.

Then the cooler cozier weather settles in, the perfect time for museum dates. Strolling along the floors keeping a watch on everyone it’s hard not to notice the intake of couples. Some are intertwined beside each other staring fondly at a painting together, while others happily take photos of the other being silly.

A taste of loneliness fills you, but gently you sweep it away focusing back on work. Especially since tonight you’ll be locking up.

Already craving some extra caffeine, you glare seeing the break room depleted of any sweet salvation.

The small velvet pink bag in your bag immediately comes to mind. And at this point you think, why not. it will at least keep you awake.

Immediately out of the pouch the tea bag releases a soothing smell, a rich floral blending with delicate touches of a fruit scent, possibly pomegranate. You’re now excited just to taste it, love wish or not.

The tea steeps in your tumbler cup allowing a faint rose color to float into your water. Of course the tea is pretty too.

And the taste? Rich, lovely and warm, like a romantic valentine-like themed drink. It doesn’t reward you with a sensation of being in love, but instead you feel at peace.

After a few sips, you return to the floor.

There, Marcus sits on one of the benches in the Roman exhibition.

Curled over a leather sketchbook, he’s every bit the personification of a scholarly beautiful artist straight out of a romance novel. His face glanced up then back down to his sketch. Diligent concentration paints over his gorgeous face.

Cautious, yet eager, you approach.

He’s sketching a portrait of the General. The sharp edges of the charcoal, the smudges meant to mimic shadows, along with capturing the striking slopes of the General’s features - it’s fantastic.

“You’re amazing!”

Your compliment causes him to jolt slightly spooked, and you rapidly apologize. Once he catches sight of you, Marcus sighs with a dreamy relieved sleepy grin.

“Just sketching, nothing too crazy.”

You take a seat besides him on the bench.

“You captured his likeness so well already.” You’re in awe at the sketch.

Marcus laughs a bit nervously. It’s hard trying not to swoon at the light rose blush coloring his cheeks. He’s stunning.

“I bet General Acacius would be flattered.” You grin then glance back to the statue.

Marcus turns to follow your sight.

“Nah, he strikes me as a big relief fan.” Marcus comments thoughtfully.

The bad art joke isn’t lost on you, and you snicker beside him. Among the giggles you catch Marcus staring at you, the softest boyish grin tugging his lips.

The world melts into a splendid focus all on him.

This isn’t good. You can’t be thinking about possibly leaning in to kiss cute visitors while you’re still on the clock.

“Hey… so I’ve been meaning to ask if maybe we could-”

His phone ringing cuts Marcus off causing you to shoot up from the bench. Jumping on the call, Marcus seems apologetic and almost sad as you wave him bye to him.

Closing time approaches. You and your co-workers do one final look around the rooms. Marcus is nowhere to be found.

The Roman exhibition now sits sleepily still.

The dim glow coats the general’s statue, a glistening chopper. Even with the chips and weathering of time, he stands glorious as you stroll closer.

He really must have been something fierce for the empire to immortalize him in such grand fashion.

“You must’ve been a pretty amazing man.” You mutter mainly to yourself, gently touching the base of the elevated display platform he rests upon.

You wish him a good night and head home. You try not to think of stunning statues or cute museum visitors.

Next morning you’re woken up by a call from work, a frantic one.

“The fucking hot ass statue is missing.” Your co-worker hisses.

You don’t believe it till you see it.

But you’re knocked breathless at the sight.

General Marcus Acacius is missing. The once grand presence he added to the room is absent, vanished, as if plucked from the air itself.

It’s almost unnerving to see the once elevated space now hauntingly vacant.

Chaos brews humming all around. Copes scurry around everywhere, and plenty of people stand outside curious to what’s going on. A controlled whirlwind fills your museum. Various officers keep the scene roped off.

The museum decides to close for the rest of the week to let the police handle as much as they can. You adore the museum truly, but there’s one spot you love the most. Right by the break room leading from various different doors is an outdoor courtyard. It’s become a place of solace.

The bubbling dread has you stepping out here one more time. The sky above looms with a cold front approaching and casts a somber shadow over the space even more.

The shrubs rustle off the side among the thick greenery, and you figure it’s a bird.

“It’s you.” Until a new voice speaks to you. Rich, heavily accented and smooth, it startles you.

You wonder if you’re imagining things.

The man is dressed in Roman attire, elaborate white armor adorned with ornate gold pieces. Glorious graying curls frame his ethereal aged face.

How did a cosplayer manage to sneak in?

He stares so directly at you it frightens you a bit.

“You’re the one who’s voice I heard…” he continues to speak. “It was like I was asleep, drifting away. Then you woke me.”

“Sir, how did you manage to get in here?” You ask, trying to stay as calm as you can.

“I do not know. I simply woke and found myself in this strange place.” He explains with a furrowed brow.

You wonder…is this a strange bit the museum is maybe trying to pull off, and they didn’t tell you.

He steps forward now, and instinctively you walk back cautious. The man must take in your reaction because his face, his handsome face that now looks vaguely familiar, frowns. He holds his hands up defensively.

“I mean no harm. I just need to know what happened to me.”

Someone calls out your name, sounds like your boss. “Come on let’s head out.”

The stranger repeats it and how smooth his voice is, your name rolls off his tongue.

“I am General Marcus Acacius, and I am in need of your assistance.”

That makes your brain scratch.

“Wait, what?” You turn to him confused. “What did you say your name was again?”

He repeats it firmer.

Marcus Acacius.

As in… General Marcus Acacius.

There’s no way.

“Oh, so you’re an actor.” You deadpan.

“I…am confused? I’m no performer. I promise you that.” He almost sounds huffy.

You gotta give him credit. The guy stays in character pretty well.

“You shouldn’t be here, actor or not.” You tell him, heading back inside. Of course this man follows you in.

At the sight of the glass door and the movement of it, he pauses stunned, like he can’t process it. You almost want to laugh.

“You’re pretty good, even though you say you’re not an actor.” You tease.

He frowns hard not enjoying that.

“Either tell me what is going on or I will find a man who will.” He snaps loud and your eyes go wide.

His memorizing face scrunches up in frustration. Dark amber eyes are coated in fierce anger.

“I wake up in a strange place filled with artifacts and see people dressed strange. What is going on?” His voice rises confused, panicking.

Either he’s the most amazing actor ever or…

No.

It can’t be.

Too many thoughts swirl in your head like angry bees trying to make your brain explode.

You need a minute. So you grab the mystery man’s arm, practically dragging him to follow you.

“Excuse you? Where are you taking me?” He demands.

“Somewhere safe.” You half lie.

Unfortunately your boss stops you. His worried eyes catch sight of the man in the armor. You’re quick to explain he’s an actor, upset about the missing statue.

“I am not a-”

You shush the strange man harshly. Your boss, hesitant and worried, surveys him.

“He shouldn’t be here.” Your boss says firm.

“Yup, and I was just showing him the way out.” You happily explain.

Thankfully your boss gets called away, and you make your escape.

“Are you abducting me?” He demands harder.

“Look, I’m the only one here who might be able to help you.” You hiss back.

“I am the commanding General of the Roman armies.” His voice blooms stronger when you reach the lobby. “I will find my way around.”

You swallow hard. A small but chaotic idea quickly jumps into your mind, and you decide to put it into action.

So, you hold the exit door open for him. The man nods to you, then strolls out. You follow him.

The towering skyscrapers, the rush of the cars, the stretching concrete roads, it becomes an overwhelming sight while the man whips his face around eyes wide and in shock. His face falls, aghast and disoriented.

That unrealistic conclusion you thought of - you think it might not be so realistic. Because the man turns to you wearing petrified horror, terrified confusion of a man in an unknown world that no actor could truly capture.

Reality smacks into you like a bag of nails.

This man is truly the great General Marcus Acacius.

The missing statue now full man summoned to life.

Someone yells your name.

Your heart drops. Of course Marcus arrives at the worst time. He jogs up to you dressed in what looks like a gym outfit.

“I heard about the statue.” He says worried then his eyes immediately grow cloudy and confused as he catches sight of the strange Roman dressed man.

“Is he… a friend of yours?” Marcus asks hesitantly.

“It’s complicated.” You blurt, panicked.

General Acacius stands still very stunned trying to take this new modern world in. Stumbling, he returns to your side, clutching your arm like you’re the only one who can steady him.

“I…” Acacius begins then stops mid word, still trying to process a reply. Until he catches sight of Marcus.

“You,” The man surveys Marcus with narrowing eyes. “You seem familiar as well.”

This is getting out of hand.

“Okay time to go.” You rapidly try diffusing the situation, moving General Acacius away from Marcus.

“Wait, what’s going on?” Marcus questions, persistently following behind while you head to the parking lot.

You scramble out a lie that the strange man is an old friend you ran into who just came back from a play.

“I told you, I’m no performer.” Acacius insists still. You also discover he’s built like a wall and trying to wrangle him into the car proves to be Herculean.

Swiftly, Marcus firmly snaps out your name. His tone is different, urgent and enforcing. It turns you into a statue yourself.

Comedically, you’re practically halfway shoving Acacius into the car but now stand frozen. He notices the shift in tension quickly.

“Are you frightened of him?” Acacius mutters concern, surprisingly concerned. “Because I can dispose of this man.”

You shake your head no.

Swallowing hard, you finally look Marcus dead in the eyes.

“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.” You admit.

“Try me.” Marcus rebuffs, serious as steel.

So you sigh, what more do you have to lose now?

“General, can you please tell him who you are.” You then allow Acacius to speak for himself.

The ancient Roman clears his throat and announces his full title and name. The younger and modern Marcus’s face twists confused with a hint of concern.

Suddenly his eyes go wide. He catches on fast, figures it out quicker than you did that’s for sure.

This cute casual museum visitor you have a slight crush on is now your accomplice and partner in crime.

At least…now you don't have to deal with an ancient Roman General being brought back to life from stone alone.

— °˖➴ —

Marcus’s apartment is lush and cozy, filled with so many books and records. The warm walls, sleek modern design, make your place feel like a hole in the wall. Having a roommate, you couldn’t just bring home a very confused man out of time. So thankfully Marcus offered his home.

Now you’ve practically been living here with General Acacius trying to figure out what happened.

Acacius takes things rather well, almost in stride. Fitting for a general that explored new territories and had to face the unknown chaos of war.

The fridge fascinates him the most. You had to stop yourself from laughing seeing him open and close the refrigerator door like a child wondering if the food inside would disappear.

Marcus has a vice for candy, specifically sour ones. Seeing General Acacius try one and the disgusted face of twisted torture is a memory you’ve replayed over multiple times.

But unfortunately no one can figure out what brought the statue to life and him here.

“I’m a man. Not a statue.” The roman general clarifies.

“You are now, but we gotta figure out why.” You sigh exhausted while Marcus readies breakfast for everyone.

He’s been an incredible host. It’s been hard not lingering on how domestic and warm he is within his own space.

Especially when there’s also an archaic man looking just as handsome walking around in a tight white t shirt Marcus lent him.

Surrounded by two unbelievably gorgeous men has been a double edged sword, a blessing and curse.

General Acacius reminds you of a mountain, ever powerful, sturdy and unwavering with the change of seasons. Yet there’s still an open vulnerability to him. You’ve seen it in how grateful he’s been and how eagerly he’s tried absorbing all about this new world.

Whereas Marcus reminds you of a river, beautifully flowing, always adaptable. But he surprises you with how direct and firm he’s been, almost protective in keeping you and Acacius safe.

You also don’t miss the way Marcus’s eyes sometimes flicker to sneak a glance at the older General. You can’t blame him.

Acacius fills out modern clothes sinfully. Watching him navigate everything with a certain poised grace is attractive. While Marcus has become endearing and patient, incredibly welcoming to this new hiccup in his life. You haven't felt this comfortable with someone in so long.

Truly a river and mountain now exist in your life, and you want to stay in their atmosphere more and more.

But you can’t get tangled in the budding emotions growing for these men.

You need to figure out how to help Acacius.

“Once I get back to the office, I’m hoping I can try to find something that could maybe help.” Marcus clarifies while grabbing his work bag.

You’ve learned much about him these past few days. Like he enjoys a good run, used to be a swimmer, has a soft spot for strays, surprisingly loves football -

Also that he’s a well known FBI agent.

You realized you never once asked what he did for work, and you’ve known him for months.

“You have feelings for that man.” Acacius announces once it’s you and him alone in the apartment. You almost spit out your drink.

“We’re friends, that’s all.” You huff.

This Marcus doesn’t seem to believe you, and gives you a very modern dry eyed side glare that makes you roll your eyes.

“I’ve seen the way he watches you, the look of a man in love.” Acacius continues.

“Well I see the way he stares at you too, pal.” You reply back before you can even realize what you said.

Your words do their job stunning the general.

“He is too young for an old man like me.” Acacius rapidly fires back.

“You’re not that old.” You clarify. “If anything you’re distinguished, mature.”

“You are too kind, dear lady.” He chuckles.

You ignore how fast warmth spreads through you a dangerous wildfire just hearing him.

Your phone ringing makes poor Acacius jump. Though, it’s progress from the confused shout he used to yell whenever the phones rang.

Your boss explains that unfortunately the museum will have to stay closed the rest of the month for further investigations, and everyone’s information has been sent in to check for any suspicious activities.

It sounded serious.

Dead serious because after that phone call, you get called by the police department to head in for a few questions.

You have nothing to hide, except you did.

Because in theory you technically did and didn’t steal the statue. You just know the cops wouldn’t take your explanation.

The interrogation room you sit in is coated in a bleak serious air making you fidget worried. This is also the first time you left General Acacius alone at the apartment and that worry picks at you.

Then two officers walk in. One an older distinguished woman who gives you a nod then the other… a rather striking man.

Hawkish nose, clean shaven face, kind eyes, he smiles soft at you.

Marcus.

The agent that walked in is Marcus.

You try not to stare, but it’s hard. Dressed in an official suit and tie, the badge he wears, he sits across for you a striking professional handsome agent.

The woman introduces herself as one of the head local detectives of the case and the man accompanying her is from the FBI, specifically the head of the art crimes division.

Marcus wasn’t just an agent but someone that important.

You can’t deny how extra attractive it makes him.

“Agent Marcus Pike.” Polite and sweet he outstretches his arm to shake your hand like you’ve never met him before.

The questions are very basic.

Where were you the last time you saw the statue? Do you remember any recent guest that stopped by that maybe seemed suspicious?

You answer as truthfully and as best as you can, while also hiding the ancient Roman sized man truth away.

“Funny enough,” Agent Pike comments. “It does seem like this statue just seems to have…I don’t know, grown legs and walked out itself.”

You weakly laugh at his joke. You don’t miss the tug of his lips trying not to grin.

You leave the room as if you stepped out of a strange pocket dimension. Then again these past few days have felt strange and disorienting.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were the head of some FBI art division?!” You let Marcus have it when you both return back to his apartment.

“Is that dangerous?” Acacius asks curiously.

“I don’t know.” You sigh.

“No…This is good.” Marcus clarifies. He even picked up apology pastries. General Acacius greedily snags a cheese danish and moans in pure delight once he takes a bite.

It’s hard to ignore how incredibly sexy he sounded.

“It means I can keep looking in my records for any previous instances of situations like this, or if there’s any leads on the case I’ll know.” Marcus patiently explains.

That calms you enough.

Days pass, and Acacius grows restless.

He doesn’t sleep well, snapping at you and Marcus often more. He mourns the loss of a world that’s passed, of a wife he lost. The grief comes in waves. You and Marcus try comforting him, but Acacius reminds you of a caged tiger, restless and fanged. You understand. Being cooped up in a strange home in a strange world must be exhausting.

So Marcus and you agree to have a nice weekend out with him.

General Acacius fidgets in the cozy cream knit sweater that stretches over his broad body, but damn does he look incredible. So does Marcus in his scholarly sleek coat.

This trip also works as another opportunity to do more investigating. The nearby bookstore is the first stop. Acacius gasps seeing the stretch of books.

“Pretty impressive, yeah?” Marcus smirks, and you grin agreeing. He decides to take a look at the art history books here for any information he might have missed.

You unfortunately get side tracked with the many books in front of you and slightly wander away from Acacius when one catches your eyes.

But you quickly find your way back to him.

The elder Marcus stands stunned like a ghost among the classical literature holding a thick encyclopedia.

“I knew of what happened to Rome after you and Pike told me. But seeing the grand colosseum like this… it’s a specter of ruins now.” He mutters while taking in the photo of the ancient landmark.

“I am glad. There should be no need for more death matches.” His voice weighs with the heaviness of centuries past.

You agree, happy he shuts the book and returns it back. You’re about to dive into the Ancient Rome section yourself now until he speaks again.

“What if I am not the same man these books speak of?” The older Marcus questions hollowed.

That stuns you.

“What if the man who died many years ago… is not me?” His voice wavers.

Existential dread looms off him a dark storm growing stronger.

Marcus turns the corner smiling bright. But quickly he immediately notices the shift in atmosphere, and his face falls as he mouths asking what’s wrong.

You let General Acacius speak from the heart.

“What if… I am not me? What if I am not the real Marcus Acacius?”

His face is weighted with fear, raw and open making him appear lost and so small for someone powerful as him.

“I believe it’s you.” You reassure him gentle. “I’m sure Marcus does too. Besides… who says you can’t be the same man?”

There are pieces of yourself that you’ve left with people, even some bits of you have gotten snagged in certain places or tied to certain objects. Who says a piece of Marcus Acacius truly resided in the statue and simply woke up. And if that’s the case, then that means he’s as real as ever.

You explain all of this best as you can to Acacius. Those deep steady eyes of his waver transforming into molten earth. Your hand moves down to squeeze his stronger large warm hand.

He squeezes back tight.

“Besides the man that died is still you too. You’re allowed to be both.” Marcus jumps in with the most tender voice

“That does not sound true.” Acacius mutters.

As modern has he’s slowly become, you think it still might be too hard to explain dimensional or reality theory.

“This philosopher I read about once said something along the lines of, if you think, therefore you are.” Marcus clarifies. “You exist here and now. And sometimes that’s all that matters.”

You realize both you and Marcus slowly have huddled around General Acacius. You on one side and Marcus on the other, barricade to support your General as much as you or Marcus can.

Acacius sighs, watery, taking it all in.

Your heart aches for him. It overwhelms you, causing you to gently rest your head against his shoulder and letting your hand rest on his back.

Marcus also moves closer, placing his hand right besides yours, gingerly touching your hand.

Among the books you and these two rest simply in the stillness of the moment. You feel something hook deep in your chest, a feeling you can’t fully express.

After, Marcus treats everyone to his favorite taco truck. It's infectious seeing Acacius’s spirits brighten again. He again moans delicious when he takes his first bite. You don’t miss the awkward cough Marcus makes.

But the tacos are amazing and the cooler weather covers everything in a comforting dreamy cloud.

“I want to explore this world as much as I can.” Acacius declares with resolution and shining gilded hope.

So you start bringing the Roman general out with you more.

The museum is still being investigated, so you take the chance to enjoy the days, especially now with Marcus Acacius by your side. He enjoys your smaller apartment, becomes a fan of cooking shows fast.

Marcus and you discovered he isn’t big on sushi but has a notorious sweet tooth. Acacius embraces everything now with more gusto, a vibrant curiosity about many things, especially food. It’s endearing.

General Acacius also proves to be a lovely companion when you go grocery shopping.

“So many spices.” He says in awe in the aisle.

More people arrive and you try maneuvering your cart through the traffic. General Acacius catches on quick. Staying close to you, he places a comforting hand at your lower back and the other against yours in the cart. Shifting his body against yours, he’s a protective shield until you’re out of the thicket.

It sends the wildest hum of sparks throughout your body that persistently stays. Acacius stays firmly beside the rest of the trip.

For a man out of time, he’s open for conversation. The check out worker seems to blatantly ignore you while she happily and very openly flirts with him.

You don’t say much, ignoring the possessive emerald eyed sense of jealousy threatening to rise. He bids the flirty cashier a good day along with an elegant head nod. You keep quiet heading back to the car.

“That woman, she gave me a strange note with numbers on it.” General Acacius comments cautious, almost worried about what they could be.

You almost trip on the way out.

“Her number, she gave you her phone number.” You explain simply.

Of course you have to elaborate what that means and how it’s a modern way of signaling someone is attracted to you.

“Truly?” His handsome aged face scrunches up confused.

“What can I say? In any year you’re a catch.” You try not to sound wistful.

“I’m an old man not from this time. I have nothing worth for anyone to desire me.” Now he sounds dejected, somber and serious.

“Okay, besides being absolutely one of the most gorgeous men ever, you’re kind. Incredibly loyal and brave. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” Earnesty floats off you.

His face drops, your words finally settling within him. The soft streams of grays in his luscious curled hair and rustic beard, the beautiful scars he wears that tell of his victories…

The statue truly was not able to capture the magnetic pull of this man.

Acacius’s eyes flicker across your face. You swear something shimmers in his deep earth eyes. His gaze flickers down for a split moment, as if he’s glancing at your lips.

Then your phone rings with a text, and you sigh.

This precious bubble you’ve been in, this newly woven existence with these two gorgeous men, is one you want to stay in forever. It’s warm, easy, and feels too nice to leave.

But work eventually crashes in.

The museum finally reopens but with the Roman exhibit closed still. The missing art has brought in more foot traffic to the museum. But what surprises you is seeing Marcus at work now while he works. You and him share sweet secret smiles to each other.

Even with work getting busy for you and him, you’ve been texting with Marcus frequently. It’s even been amusing being on the phone with him and Acacius cries out surprised hearing your voice.

Your mind drifts to them again as you daze off a bit at work.

“So, did you ever drink that tea I gave you?” Your favorite coworker asks, interrupting your daydream.

The confusion must be evident on your face.

“Ya know… the sweet love wish tea?” She grins like a pleased cat that’s about to catch a canary.

An abrupt realization barrels right into you, a fierce horned bull almost knocking you out at the knees. You can’t believe a possible magical tea maybe brought a statue to life. But with that statue now a very real ancient Roman man you’ve been harboring - anything is possible now.

“Can you tell me where the shop is that you got it?” You rapidly ask her.

Your next day off you head down there immediately, not even taking either of your Marcus boys.

The sweetest shop owner greets you warm and welcoming. You compliment her lovely silvery lavender hair.

“Oh it’s to hide the grays.” She winks, and you grin.

But the nervousness rises because you don’t even know how to approach the question you have.

“Something seems to be bothering you.” Of course she notices but speaks with a gentle tone.

Your heavy sigh must say it all. Very sweetly she pulls out a stool by the register and settles in waiting to hear your story.

Even with her welcoming smile, the hesitation pulls at you. But you manage to gently explain what happened without revealing the dizzying truth.

“So I drank the love wish tea. And something… someone I never imagined would come into my life did. So now I don’t know if there’s a way I could probably send him back to what, to where, he was.” You tell her.

The shop owner hums in deep thought, crossing her hands over her chest nodding.

“Is it a ghost? Did you call in a spirit? Are you in love with a ghost?” She asks flat out without hesitation, and you almost laugh.

She’s half right in a way.

“I’m thinking…possibly the one thing that came to mind that I would do first is to do an unbinding spell. Whatever is keeping this man here, the separation of that would be what sends him back.” She says jumping off her chair, waving at you to follow her through the shop.

You quickly scurry behind her.

Grabbing a pack of two candles, the ritual she describes is simple enough. Tying a string around the two candles, lighting them until they burn, which in the process would burn the thread, theoretically severing the tie of Acacius to this world.

“And you said it was the love wish tea you drank, yes?”

You nod, and she nods back in understanding.

“What that tea is meant to do is call in your heart’s desires, simply allow the universe to bring whatever magic it seems fit to your life…But it also isn’t doing it forcefully.” She explains.

The tea is known to work because it calls in someone who desires the same thing you do, almost like a little nudge in the matchmaking department, a magic magnet.

“It works because someone else is also receptive. But of course, there is no need to stay with whoever is brought to you.”

Her words sink into a deep corner of your heart. You wonder if that meant Marcus Acacius longed for a better future, and it’s why the tea worked on him.

Thanking her graciously, you take the candles and a few cute stickers she has by the counter.

“I hope everything works out for you, gorgeous.” Her warm smile becomes a comforting hug.

You hope so too.

But the way your stomach twists, a part of you realizes… what if you don’t want Marcus Acacius to leave?

It’s selfish - but you want this trio of you, him and Marcus Pike, to last as long as it possibly can.

Driving to Marcus’s apartment, guilt and selfishness fight each other tooth and nail. You don’t know if this unbinding spell would work, but it would be a start.

With the spare key Marcus gave you, you let yourself in.

There on the couch you catch the quickest glimpse of both men heavily making out with the elder Marcus greedily holding onto Agent Pike’s sharp jaw. You wonder if maybe you’re seeing things, but the image knocks you breathless.

The younger and modern Marcus, who halfway was on the elder General’s lap immediately, bolts away as if electrocuted.

On the table, you spot two glasses of wine.

They both stare at you, caught red handed. Immediately though, you scramble out apologies.

“I should have called and-”

Marcus says your name. “It’s.. it’s okay.”

You feel so foolish right now. You didn’t even think that they had a thing, and that you were possibly the third wheel.

“I can leave. I totally understand.” You really do.

“No.” Acacius orders, saying your name, firmly shaking his head as he rises. His eyes rusted steel swords that pin you to where you stand.

“This started because of you.” He adds.

Wait.

Because of you?

“Wait, are you guys drunk?” You even voice your confusion.

Both Marcus men shake their heads no.

“We were just talking about you, about us.” The younger Marcus explains.

“And it took us some time but we both desire each other. And we both desire you.” General Acacius simply interjects, and Marcus coughs stunned.

You wonder if you’re the one who’s been brought to life in another time.

“Honey, please don’t feel pressured if you don’t feel the same.” Marcus, wonderful Marcus Pike, ever understanding and eternally good.

“I’ve liked you for so long. Even tried to ask you out a couple of times, just got a bit of cold feet. It just unfortunately took an ancient Roman to get me to finally say something.” He laughs weakly, boyishly nervous.

He’s liked you all this time.

You don’t say anything, don’t think there’s any words you can say just yet. Simply the emotions overtake you.

You head first to the younger Marcus and kiss him with a fierce tug at his shirt. He happily pulls you into him and sighs into your lips.

A soft but large hand runs up your back, and the sensation makes your body bloom.

“You both are so beautiful.” The older Marcus mutters dripping with adoration.

With a squeeze to Marcus’s shoulder and one final soft kiss, you pull away then melt into the general’s waiting arms. His mustache tickles you as his lips kiss yours, but it’s divine.

Their hands all over you touch every inch they can. You’ve never felt this desired, never been the epicenter of affection and passion like this before. You just as eagerly try grabbing at either man with as much clawed possession as you can.

They’re both yours now after all.

Tumbling into the bedroom it’s like something out of a dream, blissful and deliciously decadent, but so real with how heated your body feels.

Both men start kissing your exposed skin, with one licking at your neck from behind and the other readily nipping at your exposed chest. Your mind melts in bliss.

“Marcus,” you sigh.

You’re rewarded with two beautiful groans, different in tones it becomes a symphony you want to hear forever.

In the blurry of haze, the sticky syrupy desire, you and the younger Marcus follow each other peppering multiple kisses on Acacius’s chest as he falls onto the bed.

You and the modern Marcus work together, conquering the beautiful golden exposed landscape of Marcus Acacius’s chest. You tenderly press your lips against the various scars then happily move to kiss the younger Marcus.

The delicious sighs from General Acacius fill the room, a hypnotic soundtrack.

Soon your lips start traveling further down across his body. Your fellow lover follows your trail, kissing and kicking every inch of Acacius. You and Marcus reach his cock twitching in the loose sweatpants Acacius has grown fond of.

“Fuck.” Marcus groans as he drags the older man’s cock out.

Fuck is right. Thick, girthy and dripping already, you already ache to have him inside in any way.

“Both of you are little fiends.” The elder Marcus croaks breathless. Confidence surges in you as you lick across his length, relishing in the taste of his skin.

Marcus’s tongue also licks with you along your other lover’s cock, even moving across your tongue. The louder groans coming from General Acacius only spur you and Marcus on.

Greedily your eyes flicker up towards the towering force of a warrior. The beautiful older man’s eyes blown black, desired drenched galaxies looking down at you and Marcus like prizes he wants to conquer himself.

It makes you dizzy, completely possessed, and you kiss your way down to one of his thick large heavy balls. You tentatively lick. Acacius initially hisses until his voice melts into the loudest primal groan when you start sucking.

Your sweet Marcus immediately follows your lead, dragging his mouth down as well. You and him simply devour Acacius, licking back and forth across your lover’s balls and each other’s mouths.

Marcus quickly starts stroking your lover’s thick cock. It’s heaven being among these two, allowing yourself to get lost in the golden ecstasy.

When Acacius reaches his release you greedily lick up his cum that spilled against his skin, and he groans. Once you sit up, you reach for Marcus’s cum covered hand and begin to lick and suck his fingers clean. It’s then your sweet Marcus that suddenly grabs your mouth with the same hand, pulling your face towards his.

“Don’t swallow baby, I wanna taste.” He mutters with blazed out eyes.

Hearing that you almost come on the spot.

You sit up and slowly allow your spit and the milky cum into Marcus’s waiting mouth.

“Gods above.” The elder Marcus moans carnal.

The rest of the night consumes you in a wanton haze.

Sweaty, exhausted, but floating on a cloud, you sink into the bed with two men barricading you in their arms.

“I’m surprised you were…open to this.” You say to Acacius who chuckles a bit.

“I have loved others before, some included men. One was even a fellow General who died tragically among the same coliseum walls as I once did.” He explains gently.

You kiss his chest softly in understanding.

As you and these two lie curled into one another on Marcus’s lush bed, it’s like a new door has opened.

You and Marcus eagerly ask your General about his days in ancient Rome and his travels across the old world, about the true story of how he got his scar. Ever the steady man, Acacius answers all questions he can.

In the middle of this warm incredible double Marcus sandwich makes you giddy. But Acacius’s deep comforting lull of a voice, Marcus’s soft hands stroking your skin, create a cocoon drawing you to sleep faster than you realize.

A soft kiss comes to the top of your head.

“Rest. We will be here when you wake.”

Nodding through a yawn, you happily kiss them both goodnight. But just before you fall into the depths of sleep, you catch the two talking.

“What… will happen if I do not return to stone?” Acacius speaks first, so low and cautious you wonder if you’re dreaming already.

“I… I guess the statue will remain incomplete, stolen.” Marcus answers truthful but gentle.

A moment passes.

“What if I do not wish to return to stone?” Acacius clarifies.

You hear Marcus inhale sharp.

“I’ve longed for peaceful days away from the brutality of the frontline. And now… it’s here.”

A thick hope shines through the older Marcus’s voice, slipping past your ribs to piece your heart.

Movement shifts the bed, arms reach across for each other and seem to cage around you more.

“You’ll always have the final say. You get to make that choice. Neither of us would ever want to force you or take that away from you.” Marcus’s molten words are coated in pure understanding.

“I wish to stay here… with you and her.” Confidence, solidified resolution, radiate from the General’s voice.

The bed shifts again, and you hear them exchange the softest kiss.

“We’ll have to make sure to tell her in the morning.” The modern Marcus sighs dreamily. His hands again start rubbing your arm soothing, as if he can sense you’re fighting sleep.

“Of course. We must never forget our lady.” The older Marcus agrees.

His words along with a soft kiss to your forehead become the final push that allows sleep to settle.

— °˖➴ —

“So you’re telling me mister head of the art crimes department will be okay with a statue staying stolen and missing forever?” You smirk amused while Marcus drives down the familiar roads.

“Hey it’s no Vemeer’s Concert, but I’ll live with it.” Marcus playfully smirks and shrugs.

The investigation on General Acacius’s missing statue had run cold. There was no indication of a break in or forced exit. From the surveillance tapes, the video recordings simply shimmer, distorted for one moment, and then the statue is gone. As if it vanished into thin air.

Or is simply currently sitting in the back seat of the car taking in the world and power of a motor vehicle.

“You hear that, General? Our boy said you’re not valuable.” You tease.

“I don’t mind and I can agree.” Acacius replies bored, making you laugh. The green sweater he wears compliments him and brings out the streams of grays in his hair. You and Marcus have loved seeing him embrace modern clothing more than ever.

“That’s not what I meant.” Marcus rolls his eyes.

You snicker even more.

The occult shop arrives, and the candles feel lighter than ever in your bag, especially knowing you’re here to return them.

“Seems like you didn’t need these after all.” Your favorite lavender haired shop owner says with a coy smirk. Her eyes stay locked on your men exploring the aisles.

“A two for one deal? I'm definitely advertising that for the tea.” She adds eagerly, and you hide a laugh behind your hand.

If only you could tell her the full truth.

You return to your boys, enjoying the way Acacius seems to be a bit petrified among all of the occult objects.

“Are you sure this witchcraft is safe?” He asks worried, snd Marcus smooths by rubbing his back.

You grin.

Love, affection, might be the strangest but most beautiful magic after all.

[kaiser1ns]

𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

╹synopsis :: it doesn't take much to say or show you love someone even with the simplest of actions.

╹contents :: can be read as fem/gn reader; characters from blue lock, jjk and honkai star rail, FLUFF, ooc maybe?

╹notes :: as i was walking to go home at like 10pm i thought of this, hope you enjoy! added hsr specially for @okkalo ♡

ITOSHI SAE immediately takes you out to visit the sea when he gets some days off. The sounds of the waves, the relaxing atmosphere and you in his arms calm him down causing him to flashback to his childhood memories of when he was just a small and carefree child wanting nothing more but to play football with his little brother and personal cheerleader.

Not only he is known as the strongest but GOJO SATORU is also known for having a very strong sweet tooth. So what does he do to reduce the sugar? He shares it with you because there is nothing better than sharing his favourite thing with his lover, so let's say he gets a double dose of chocolate and candy from just seeing you and that's enough.

AVENTURINE is not afraid to take the risk and his constant smile makes it difficult for people to guess his true intentions. Not with you though, he lets his guard down, your voice soothing him to help him relax and as he gets lost in your touch. He is not Aventurine of the IPC or the Ten Stonehearts, he is just Kakavasha the little boy who once dreamed of love and now he won the biggest treasure in his life — you.

ITOSHI RIN knows how much you don't like scary movies, and that's why when you come over for the weekends you watch movies or series of your choice, be it Barbie or The Lion King. He will swallow his ego and stop watching the weekly uploads of his favourite scary games just so you can't fall asleep on purpose because of the horror films.

GETO SUGURU can't stop talking about how beautiful, amazing, and kind you are. Mimiko and Nanako are tired because they are the only ones who get to hear all his murmuring when you are away even for only 5 minutes. But they know how much he loves you and how you breathe life into him, and he wishes that someday they will become like you — strong and good-hearted.

ARGENTI thanks and prays to Idrila every moment of his life for obtaining the biggest blessing to ever exist and that is meeting you. The Knight of Beauty makes sure to give you one red rose every day to express his profound love and admiration, it's a small gesture that symbolizes his devotion to the relationship. He should protect his lover and like flowers, the tender petals are directed to you, with the thorns to the cosmic and its danger protecting you

It may seem that he is spoiled, but in fact, NAGI SEISHIRO is not, well not that much. Sometimes he takes charge of the household chores, giving you, a well-deserved break. He washed the dishes, cooked you a meal (instant noodles), and even tried to fold the laundry. And you, pleasantly surprised, sank into the couch, embracing the rare luxury of relaxation as familiar songs from your shared playlist were playing on the TV. Even if it doesn't happen often you are forever grateful for your lazy boyfriend to do something like that.

ITADORI YUJI shows genuine interest and actively listens to you talking about your current obsession be it a series, celebrity, book, food, or anything. He loves your voice, seeing your beautiful smile, and how your eyes seem to sparkle as you talk, he is so lovestruck that he sometimes just stares at you with the most soft and genuine look. Just don't be surprised when you find some merchandise on your desk with a little love note, okay?

Engaging in meaningful conversations and connecting on a deeper level with DR. RATIO seems like every other normal day for him. He approaches every interaction with a thirst for knowledge. And you take him by surprise every time and he doesn't know what to do, the great genius suddenly stops functioning. The way you hold his hand, kiss his cheek, make him stutter — he goes crazy and questions himself about how there is no logical explanation for this, but there is, it is called love.

SHIDOU RYUSEI doesn't like to share his material possessions with anyone, he worked so hard to get the last volumes of Chainsaw Man as they are now put on the shelf in his bedroom. And imagine his reaction when he sees you reading volume 10 which has Makina on the cover, cuddled nicely with his blanket on the bed. How dare you read it without him? And so he jumps onto the mattress, squishing you because that's your punishment for not telling him. You apologized to him of course but for him to fully forgive you, next time you will be on anicon cosplaying Makima and Denji.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI remembers the small details about you and your preferences. If you don't like a certain ingredient in the food, he will order the dish without it. You like to sleep on this side of the bed, no problem he will sleep on the other side as you both cuddle and drift to Dreamland. He will immediately notice the change in your mood and even if he is not so good with words, he will always be there for you offering his warm embrace.

As a Galaxy Ranger BOOTHILL tends to travel around the cosmos a lot and sadly he can't spend time with you. But when he's with you, one of the things you do is his hair and to put cute stickers on his metal hands or guns. The scary cyborg cowboy is now a pretty princess with pigtails, heart stickers and with a very happy lover. He watches you having fun with his makeover — and will do everything possible to spend more time with you.

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work.

[cutehoons02]

I’m in love an idiot pt1 (PREVIEW)

*pairing: Jay Mercedes Driver x Shy fashion student

*trope: Grumpy for Sunshines

Speed or Love series ©cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2024.

Find the first part of the story of Sunghoon (Enemies to lovers) the stories can be read in any order but you will certainly find references to events as well in other characters. There will be a second part for this story

*tags: humor, speeding, shy girl but with a nice character, mocked, Jay is as much ossesed by her, good girl, first kiss, daughter of the engineer of Jay’s track, smut, jealousy, tease, Jay is really a green flag, he’ll fall in love first but she’ll fall in love slowly and strongly, smut in pubblic area?

*synopsis: Opening a brand of clothes has always been the dream of Y/ n but to be successful and make more people know his best friend came the idea of being able to ask for help the most beautiful driver of the circuit that who has more brands at its feet. Y/n doesn’t tolerate Jay’s presence because he is the exact opposite of her: full of friends, extrovert, has all the famous girls at his feet among influencers and models. Y/n will ask Jay for help but you know everyone wants something in return and what Jay wants is to be his first in everything, but what will Jay mean?

*The first part will be released tomorrow, December 2 or Tuesday, December 3

*small dialogues of what you find in the chapter:

You looked at the sketch before your eyes and puffed, Besides the window, you could see the entire skyline of Barceloneta and with that view, you should have felt relaxed and had some inspiration but instead in your head there was a cosmic nothingness only the sentence that had told you a few hours before Jay in the car.

"Park Jongseong please look at the street instead of looking at me, before i die i seriously want to graduate, give my first kiss, open my brand, and" Before you went ahead with the list of things you wanted to do before you died you felt the car lose speed and finally go at a speed that is suitable for the traffic code. "Wait, give your first kiss? Open a brand? What are you talking about? i didn’t think my engineer’s shy little daughter could be so interesting, sweetie because we never talked before!

"When you are with me, no harm will ever happen to you and, stop calling me an idiot, they have not taught you to respect people older than you and if you need me you should behave well!" "You’re four months older than me Jay not five years, tell me what you want in return and, lower the speed please" "I’d like to be your first in everything Y/n"

If your are interested in this story leave me your @ so that when i publish the story you will be first. ♡

[spiderm444rk]

LOST IN TRANSLATION - mark lee smau

15) hope they play charli xcx

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─

A/N: not sure if i’ll update on saturday bcs i work 3 days in a row😞😞 i’ll try tho 🫶🏻 THANK YOU SM FOR SHOWING ME SO MUCH LOVE ON HERE AAAAAAAAA

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༘♡ ⋆｡˚ taglist: @chenlesfavorite @injunnie-lemon @cyjzzl @morkiee @aek1ra @luvtyunn @nosungluv @mystverse @kittydollzz @6682dni @urslytherin @nanaxwi @dokgrayson @winwintea @lampcults @sunghoonsgfreal @onlyhyunjin @candied-czennie @nessaassen02 @clean-soap @xuimhao @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @jakeslucifer @222low @docilismo @en-dream @joyzluvr @idkwatodoanymore @pinklemonade34 @cosmic-marauder @makhylicaceres @lvrholic @413ktz @sunflowerbebe07

[perfectlyoongi]

PAWNS IN THE COSMOS

ㅤ↬┊synopsis ... namjoon was in love with you since the first day he saw you, but letting your magic paralize him, he never had the courage to admit it to you – that is, until he found out that you were his soulmate.

ㅤ⚘.fandom ... bts. ㅤㅤಇ.ft. ... namjoon x gn!reader. ㅤ⚘.genre ... long-shot. ㅤㅤಇ.content ... soulmate!au, college!au, fluff, angst, using of they/them prns for reader at the start. ㅤㅤಇ.word count ... 5.1k. ㅤ⚘.cole's note ... i originally wrote this for bts but posted for jjk but i regretted it so heres the original post <3 i hope u like it ♡

How is a person defined?

Of course we can delve into personality tangents and unique character traits that only each of us possesses in a perfect combination of stars and magic. However, this alone is not enough. A person is created by more than mere looks and personality; there are dreams, each person’s own ways, unique hearts that shine with specific colors conceived by each thought, each action, each desire.

A single personality is not enough to define a person – all the gods knew this. And, as such, a new system was created.

Numbers.

What more to define a person than the infinity of numbers that made up the universe?

All human beings were born marked with simple numbers that dictated their souls; from zero to infinity, passing through the infinities of decimals that each one had, the numbers managed to acquire a body in that new world.

Stuck on the back of their necks, hidden by occasional hair and various clothes, the numbers became something sacred in that society; not only was it something that defined a person, that made them unique, but they were also the main factor in relationships and connections. The thing is, bored with the eternity of cosmic lives, the gods liked to create small games that helped them in the static passage of time – and what more exciting than guiding the various lost souls to their better half?

A soulmate was something primordial.

Created long before the first star was born, soulmates roamed the world hand in hand, their stardust unique to each pair created by the various gods. They were essences without bodies, united only by cosmic dust that insisted on cradling them in the eternities of time and space in the universe. However, just star and cosmic dust was something monotonous, without any substance of its own, without a body of its own that made everything much easier to see, to be marveled at.

Thus, the first humans were created.

A connection that was only felt by the universe, beautified by the stars and constellations that they made their homes, was now something tangible, something that could be seen, something that could be admired. And, since then, relationships began to blossom in the world according to the seasons, making all the love that was felt to be the cause of all the misfortunes and happiness in the world.

Every year, small letters with a specific number and initials appeared on the bedside tables of thousands of people, a hint to eternal happiness appearing in black tones on a white background.

For years, humans followed their cards, creating happy and fulfilled lives for centuries, never once contesting the appearance of neither their cards nor their veracity – the gods commanded, the humans followed.

“Eighty-three million, two hundred and twenty thousand, six hundred and seventy-four point one hundred and ninety-three.”

“What?”

Hoseok placed his apple juice on the table and looked at his friend, intrigued by the numbers he recited so naturally.

“It’s their number.”

“Their?” Hoseok raised an eyebrow and let out a small pretentious smile, knowing perfectly well who Namjoon was talking about.

“Their. I saw it yesterday when they got off the bus. It was very brief, but I’m sure that was the number.”

“And what do you intend to do with this life-changing information?”

Namjoon looked at Hoseok for the first time since they sat at the bar table. A smile played on the brunette’s lips, his dark eyes shining with the possibilities that danced in his mind.

He leaned forward, his chest almost touching the plate with his sandwich and, in a whisper too low for such a noisy space, Namjoon spoke in a soft and quite convinced voice.

“Write down this number and compare it to the one on my card.”

“Did you receive your card?”

Hoseok’s question came out automatically, a trace of nervousness clinging to the various syllables, his dark eyes widening behind his sunglasses.

“Not yet,” Namjoon sighed and resumed his starting position, playing with some loose crumbs from his sandwich. “But I believe it’s coming soon. I don’t know how to explain it, but every time I look at them…”

The words that were going to come out of Namjoon died in his mouth without having a chance to see the light of day. Taken by a mystical force, a chance written by the cosmos, Namjoon raised his face at the exact moment you entered the bar.

You looked beautiful that day.

Favored by the beauty of that day, the sun’s rays painted your smile golden; your eyes shone with the light of new experiences, your words sounding as delicate as the breeze of that day.

You entered the bar without any worries, your laugh filling the space with the delicacy of its sound. You were with your group of friends, looking for a free table in that crowded bar for you to have lunch before your afternoon class. Your eyes scanned the compartment with some hope, a smile lingering on your lips after a joke from your best friend.

And then you noticed. In all that confusion, oblivious to your friends’ conversations, too focused on finding a place to sit, you saw Namjoon looking at you. Static, without any thought beyond his eyes, without any reaction when you approached him, your smile expanding with each step you took.

“Hello,” you stopped behind Hoseok, one of your hands resting on his chair as your eyes jumped from Namjoon to Hoseok. “Ready for the test?”

Hoseok put his hands on his head, ruffling some of his silky hair as he let out a small growl, which made you laugh. And what a laugh. What a melody sung by your lips that seemed to fill the entire bar, drowning out every sound that appeared there.

“I spent the night studying, but I couldn’t memorize anything,” Hoseok’s outburst was accompanied by a tired sigh, his body leaning back against the chair, making you let go of it. “I don’t think even a miracle could save me.”

“Think of it like this,” you walked to the side of the table, Namjoon and Hoseok on your sides, your group of friends in front of you waiting for you. “It’s about the Bible. Jesus will be with you.”

Hoseok gave you a small frown and picked up his apple juice again, giving Namjoon a little kick under the table.

“And you? Are you ready?” Namjoon spoke finally, holding his sandwich and taking a small bite as he waited for your response.

“What helps me is being able to take the Bible with me,” you confessed between smiles and winks. “But I’m confident. Our presentation actually went well.”

“The teacher liked it,” Namjoon set down his sandwich and looked at you. “I think we even make a good team.”

“And I wouldn’t give anything for you two,” you smiled as you gently ruffled Hoseok’s hair. “Well, I’m going now. See you later.”

Namjoon followed you with his gaze out of the bar, the way your body walked excitedly towards your friends, the way your smile didn’t leave your lips for a single second.

“Eighty-three million, two hundred and twenty thousand, six hundred and seventy-four point one hundred and ninety-three.”

Namjoon repeated the number again under his breath, his eyes still fixed on the bar door.

“I can’t believe the teacher gave us more work,” Namjoon grunted, storming into his room. “Where do you want to start?”

He placed his Bible on the desk, throwing his backpack onto the bed. Hoseok followed in his footsteps, throwing the book on the bed and placing the backpack on the floor, opening it immediately with a sigh.

“We can start with the document the teacher gave us…” Hoseok’s voice was full of doubts and uncertainties, his hands frantically searching his backpack for a notebook. “We can read it and go from there.”

Namjoon didn’t say anything.

Sitting down at the desk, he turned on his computer and waited a few moments until his desktop began to glow in shades of blue and silver. “You start with the document and I’ll look for which books we need to study.”

Hoseok nodded and, after making himself comfortable on his best friend’s bed, he began to dive into the waves of knowledge in the document, reading and rereading concepts and terms, looking for something in the various lines of ink that could help him in his new work.

Namjoon, in turn, opened the web page, typing a few words before spending minutes opening and closing tabs, desperately looking for help. Beside him, the Bible was open, several sheets of papers and memory aids reminding Namjoon which books he needed to highlight and look deeper into.

Shrouded in stories and theories, the two friends didn’t notice as the hours passed. Too focused on their work, taking some notes and highlighting the most important thing, Namjoon and Hoseok disconnected from the outside world, believing that, the sooner they finished that work, the sooner they would free themselves from the academic responsibilities that gave them so many headaches.

The sun was slowly setting.

From Namjoon’s bedroom window, the various street lamps began to shine with the certainty that a long night was approaching; cars and people retired to their homes at the end of a long day of work, and, in the sky, between the soft clouds and the vast dark blue, several stars made their way to the earth, telling in their death endless stories of past memories and lives lived.

Namjoon stretched out in his chair. Putting down the computer mouse for a moment and looking away from the screen for the first time since he got home, Namjoon felt tired, totally devastated by a complicated day in his life: the Classical Texts exam had gone wrong – no matter how many prayers were in the Bible, he knew that his grade would go down; the teacher, at the end of the exam, gave his students one last assignment in a week full of exams and presentations; and, to end the last ray of hope in Namjoon, that day had been another day in which he was unable to do anything other than admire you.

It had been almost two years, but Namjoon had simply withdrawn into a bubble of shyness that prevented him from functioning decently in front of you. He didn’t understand why, but you had a power over him, like a spell, an enchantment that prevented him from functioning normally in your presence. It all happened so fast, he didn’t even remember the first time he succumbed to your charms, but, once consumed by your unique, cosmic essence, he found himself trapped in a web of emotions that prevented him from leaving.

But now was not the time to dwell on you. Now Namjoon had an obligation to fulfill and, as much as he wanted to ignore it, he knew that his responsibility as a student had to be pleased.

“Do you want to order some food?”

Hoseok straightened up in bed, putting his pencil behind his ear, adjusting the sunglasses on his head. “I’m not very hungry…”

“But we need to eat,” Namjoon stood up with a small grunt, walking away from the desk and grabbing his cell phone. “I’m going to order some food and I’ll take the opportunity to call Jin and ask for his notes for tomorrow.”

Hoseok didn’t answer him.

With tired eyes and a yawn trapped in his mouth, Hoseok saw his best friend leaving the room, making the room plunge into serene silence.

Tired of studying, feeling a strong pain in his back, Hoseok fell onto the bed, taking out his cell phone and starting to explore the digital world while waiting for Namjoon to return.

Hoseok was freely lost among images and videos, reading loose sentences without any context, finding a bit of tranquillity in the chaos of others. Hoseok’s slender fingers moved across the screen with ease, clicking on images and links, allowing him to sink into a little peace before returning to work.

But no matter how involved he was in the digital world, that didn’t stop Hoseok from listening.

It was a faint, low sound, like the turning of a page. It was brief, lasting only a second, something too small to be noticed – but Hoseok noticed, Hoseok realized that something had happened, and when he sat back down on the bed and looked at Namjoon’s desk, he saw it.

A small, white card rested gently on the wooden surface. It was thin, almost invisible from Hoseok’s point of view, but those dark letters, that black that adorned the card left no room for doubt: Namjoon had just received his card.

Hoseok leaned forward, looking closely at the initials and numbers written on the card.

There was silence.

A dark silence took over Namjoon’s room, leaning into every corner, refusing to leave through the door that Namjoon had left open. The shadows in the room seemed thicker at that moment, gaining a bit of dimension when seen from the corner of Hoseok’s eye; it seemed like they were watching him, trying to keep Hoseok’s actions in their dark corners, silently judging everything Hoseok did, everything he thought.

But Hoseok continued to look at the card, memorizing the initials and numbers, repeating them in his mind over and over again. Until he heard Namjoon’s voice approaching the room and he let the shadows keep the secret he had just done.

Namjoon was at the bus stop patiently waiting. Letting the sun warm him through the bus stop window, Namjoon faced the road with a smile on his lips.

Seeing students and teachers walking up and down the street, hearing the happy birdsong and feeling the cool breeze of the day on his face, Namjoon couldn’t be happier at that moment. That day seemed as if the whole world had gained a new color, a new meaning, as if all the stars that made up the universe had arranged themselves especially to draw Namjoon’s path.

He was certain that in that day nothing would destroy his enthusiasm. Not when he held tightly to a small white card and waited patiently for a bus to arrive, for you to arrive.

It had been mere minutes since Namjoon arrived at the stop to see your bus arriving punctually at your building. Keeping all the enthusiasm he was feeling in a small box inside his heart, Namjoon approached you when you got off the platform, ready for another day of classes.

“Good morning!”

“Oh, good morning, Namjoon,” your smile painted constellations, illuminating the entire universe with a simple curve of affection and delicacy. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Eighty-three million, two hundred and twenty thousand, six hundred and seventy-four point one hundred and ninety-three.”

You stopped walking and looked seriously at your classmate.

Confused by why those numbers were recited so passionately, you waited for Namjoon to continue his reasoning. Looking closely at Namjoon, you couldn’t help but let out a small smile; there was something about his childish enthusiasm, his cosmic joy that made you feel the slightest bit comfortable.

“It’s your number, isn’t it?”

“And how do you know my number?” your smile had taken on a playful tone, not realizing where that conversation would lead you, or why he was having it with you at that moment. As such, and as always, you just waited.

“Because they gave me that number yesterday.”

Namjoon handed you the small card he kept in his hand. Curious about his words, you looked at that white piece of paper, seeing your number and initials in dark tones.

ㅤㅤY.N. 83220674,193

You remained silent for a moment while you assimilated all that information.

In reality, you hadn’t received your card yet, but you didn’t care. In so many years of life, you never had the need to get together with someone, to let the gods guide your destiny with a mere card – that didn’t mean you weren’t expecting it. You were never a romantic by nature, avoiding cliché films and closing the books when the couple began to express their eternal love for each other – that didn’t mean you didn’t want that magic for yourself.

The reality is that throughout your life you have had to worry about something more than the triviality that was love. From friendships to school, your entire life was made up of obstacles that prevented you from delving into the complex webs of romantic relationships that could have been.

But there it was. A card. Your number. Your initials. There was no denying it – Namjoon’s soulmate was you.

Still trapped in those complex numbers and the beautiful initials carved into the white of the card, your mind began to wander to a future that could exist, leaving you speechless, completely surrendered to the surprise of the event.

“You seem excited about that idea,” not knowing how to respond, not knowing how to act after that revelation, you tried to focus your attention on Namjoon, starting to walk into the building with your colleague always by your side.

“Just happy for the confirmation.”

“Confirmation?” You looked at Namjoon confused and he just smiled before opening the door to the building for you.

“I always knew it was you.”

You gave a small laugh that gently echoed through the interior of the building. “What made you so sure?”

“That’s what I felt.” Namjoon let a sigh escape him, his lips expanding more and more into the victorious smile he wore. “Since the first day I saw you.”

You looked curiously at Namjoon as you climbed the stairs to the second floor.

“I can’t explain it to you, but from the first day I saw you, I felt something inside me changed. It’s hard to explain, but it’s as if the forces of the universe were pulling me towards you. Many times, without meaning to, I was already looking at you and wondering how I could talk to you.”

Namjoon’s words traveled seamlessly to your ears, collecting all the celestial magic they could grab along the way. Namjoon’s confession appeared wrapped in the stardust of the sky that sheltered you, leaving you to smile shyly at your colleague’s frankness.

Could it be true? All the words Namjoon said seemed too whimsical to be real, his honesty appearing like a small butterfly on warmer days, flapping its wings and simplicity with the lightness of someone who didn’t care about what he said.

“Very well,” you said finally, opening the door to the classroom and giving Namjoon space to enter. “And what do you intend to do with this new information?”

“For starters,” smiled Namjoon, leaning against one of the desks, the one where you always sat, and putting his hands in his pants pockets, “I’m going to ask you out on a date.”

“What if I say no?”

You sat in your seat, placing your backpack on the table and looking at Namjoon with amusement. “I will invite you until you say yes.”

You wouldn’t go as far as to say you were in love, but the truth was you felt something.

You would never think that agreeing to go out with Namjoon would bring you the avalanche of feelings that you started to feel. There was something about him. Something that moved you, that managed to reach your core and comfort your heart as if it were a blanket. You couldn’t explain what it was, you couldn’t explain what it was like, you just felt it. And it was something so unique and unusual that it consumed you every time you were with Namjoon.

Since the day you agreed to go out with him, your whole world seemed to have changed.

“Explain something to me,” Namjoon stretched as he sat in the chair. Leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand, he stared at you, eyes so bright and passionate that he made you feel important.

“What?”

“What do I need to do so I can be yours?”

You choked on the water. The words that Namjoon said hadn’t crossed your mind, taking you by surprise.

You coughed once, twice, three times, placed the glass of water on the table and looked at Namjoon, your eyes still shining with the tears that had formed seconds ago.

“What?”

“I just want to know,” his smile was infectious. Whenever Namjoon looked at you, he smiled, a smile that spread across his face and made him more beautiful, more brilliant, as if that curve of his lips were the only detail about him. “We have already gone on several dates. We already know each other well. What is missing?"

You stared at Namjoon.

In fact, you felt something every time you were with Namjoon, your heart growing warmer with each moment shared with him. But that something was indescribable, you couldn’t understand the nature of that something. What was it? Where did it come from? Why did it torment you so much every time you were with Namjoon?

Yes. You could ignore it. You should just let yourself lay in the comfort of that feeling, and allow yourself to enjoy a little of the tranquility that that feeling offered you. But there was something about that feeling, there was something that made you feel nervous. Maybe it was because you were happy and it had been years since you last felt so carefree and light; maybe it was because you couldn’t explain what you felt, the lack of words and descriptions leaving you delirious. You didn’t know exactly what it was. You just knew you weren’t ready.

“I’m waiting,” you let out a small smile, looking at the water in the glass and thinking deeply about that something attacking your heart. What was that?

“For a formal request?” Namjoon let out a small laugh, so beautiful and melodious that it made the authenticity of your smile change tones, the small line becoming more real with that laugh. “I can kneel here right now and ask you to be yours.”

“No,” now it was you who laughed, holding Namjoon’s hands when he made a move to get up. “Don’t be silly!”

“So what do you want? Tell me and I’ll give you anything.”

“My card.”

You whispered your confession a little nervously, letting your voice get lost in the university bar.

Namjoon looked at you, the smile that beautified him so much gently fading as he thought and repeated your words in his mind. Your card. Your card? Why were you waiting for something you already knew? What did you want to find in your white piece? Why was confirming a number so important to you? Didn’t you feel your connection? Didn’t you feel how your souls were interconnected for generations and eras, your essence existing on the same star before inhabiting the human bodies that held you back from expressing your true love?

“Why?”

Namjoon’s voice had changed tone. Before playful, sprinkled with passion and affection, it was now serious, monotonous, without any feeling attached to the intonation of the syllables.

“Just…” you continued to stare at the glass of water, too embarrassed by your whim, thinking that your request was a betrayal for Namjoon. “I just want to be sure.”

Namjoon looked at you without showing any emotion. His bright eyes were now opaque, focused on your figure, studying your posture; his lips were in a straight line, too tense from the conversation to be able to express a mere smile.

Finally, he took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and putting his hands in his coat pockets.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll wait.”

Namjoon’s words gently lifted your chin, finally looking at him, seeing a small, shy smile on his lips, filled with a small sadness wrapped in understanding.

“Tell me your number.”

“Sixty-nine point zero, one, six, zero.”

“…six, zero,” Namjoon’s number was now saved on your cell phone. You were smiling, believing that that exchange of numbers could be the last drop to fill the glass of your doubts – it had to be him, you felt it.

Namjoon got up from his chair, smiling and offering you his hand.

You put your cell phone away and held Namjoon’s hand, feeling his warm, thin fingers intertwine with yours, gently pulling you out of the bar and taking you through the city’s flowery paths to your house.

Saying goodbye with a kiss on your forehead, Namjoon watched you enter your house, the smile he still wore being painted with love and complete devotion – oh, how he loved you.

You sighed when you entered the house. You were tired. Classes were becoming increasingly demanding and, with the semester almost over, the pressure only increased.

You placed your hands on your shoulders and pressed down hard as you walked to your room. Your back was burning, a fog of anxiety was clouding your mind, your feet were asking for a moment of rest.

You threw yourself onto the bed, leaving your backpack at the bedroom door. You were exhausted, you couldn’t even open your eyes. Ready to get some sleep before studying, you took your cell phone out of your pants pocket and placed it on the bedside table next to the white card.

A white card.

As if pinching you with electricity, the card woke you up to reality.

You quickly sat down on the bed, holding that piece of paper in your hands.

Finally the confirmation, finally the key to your happiness.

You abruptly pulled Hoseok into an empty room. After closing the door with some force, you faced your friend who looked at you confused and a little worried.

“Wha–”

“You should have told me.”

You cut Hoseok’s words without any difficulty, throwing your card at Hoseok, he fumbling to catch the lightness of the paper.

You were upset, completely furious. Your heart pounded with the knowledge of that betrayal, forcing you to look at Hoseok with angry eyes and trembling lips.

“What happe–”

“Look at the card,” you didn’t want to shout at Hoseok, it wasn’t in your nature to speak loudly to other people, but at that moment, totally consumed by all the emotions that arose in your heart, you couldn’t control your tone of voice, your words coming out louder than intended. “Look at the card and explain to me why you didn’t tell me!”

Hoseok’s dark eyes looked at you nervously, the glow that embellished them giving them a fear that was completely unknown to him. It took a while. He was still assimilating your words, repeating them in his head, trying to understand what you specifically meant. But, when all the dots connected, when your anger became justifiable and the card essential, Hoseok quickly looked at the card, letting out a small curse when he saw the initials and numbers that adorned the white piece of paper.

ㅤ J.H. 2430.1872

“I can explai–”

“I can’t believe it. It is really you! You switched the cards!”

You let out a fake laugh, turning your body to face the door in an attempt to calm down. After taking a deep breath once, twice, three times, you looked back at Hoseok, who now had a look of determination that didn’t match your conversation.

“He loves you.”

“He’s not my soulmate,” you couldn’t explain, but your eyes started to water. Anger? Despair? Betrayal? What emotion did you seek from the turbulent sea that shook your heart to make you want to cry?

“That doesn’t invalidate the fact that he loves you.”

You shook your head, your lips forming a fake, angry smile, painted with the turmoil that existed in your heart. “You know perfectly well it does.”

“Listen,” Hoseok approached you, the card held in one of his hands. “You like him. It’s noticeable! The way you look at him. The way you shine when you’re with him! Yo–”

“No!” you shouted without realizing it, snatching the card from Hoseok’s hand and waving it in front of his eyes. “You are my soulmate. It’s you I have to stay with. You are the one I have to love.”

“No. No! No!” now Hoseok was also shouting, desperate to make himself heard, wanting to explain himself at all costs. “You don’t have to keep your–”

“You know perfectly well what happens to those who don’t stay with their soulmate.” Sadness. Hurt. Suffering. Grief. Years of pure despair. Years of nothing but anguish. “Do you really want him to be like that? Consumed by the negativity of the universe?”

“How,” Hoseok laughed, a little insane with your argument, taking his hands to his head and pulling lightly his hair. “How is he going to be unhappy if he has loved you since the first day you met?”

“Feelings come and go,” your tone returned to normal, your gaze now trapping Hoseok in a box with no escape, your conversation turning from despair to frustration. “He wouldn’t be happy with me.”

Hoseok looked at you furious with your deaf ears. You looked at Hoseok irritated by his empty words.

The door opened.

Namjoon entered.

“I heard screams… Is everything okay?”

Namjoon’s eyes jumped from you to Hoseok.

He was confused, he didn’t understand why you were alone in an empty room screaming. On the other side of the door, Namjoon hadn’t been able to understand the nature of your argument, but now looking at you, he knew it was something serious.

“Tell him.”

Your eyes finally got tired, the first tear sliding easily down your face, taking with it a bit of the sadness of reality. “Tell him, Hoseok.”

“Tell me what?”

Now Namjoon started to get nervous.

What had happened between the two of you to create such a tense atmosphere? How did the two of you, the ones who were always joking with each other, the ones who knew nothing more than laughter and smiles – how did the two of you end up screaming and crying?

“Tell him how I will never be happy with him because I am destined to love you.”

ㅤㅤ♡ feedback is appreciated ♡

[heliads]

soulmate! kaz brekker x reader please! names on the wrist (kaz r not kaz b). reader is a childhood friend and is a grisha under contract of servitude (tailor). they meet secretly and one night kaz says he is going on a mission to fjerda and when he returns he will buy his contract. at the end of CK he actually does this and takes her to the slat and they have a hand holding/light kiss on the forehead moment where they finally say they accept each other as soulmateI love your work, darling! ♡

ty! and excellent request, man does soulmates!kaz always hit a little different

masterlist

Soulmates were not meant for a place like this. Honestly, sometimes it seems more like some sort of cosmic accident, that of all the places to experience a meant to be, a soul universally joined to you and you alone, Ketterdam should not be it. Fjerda, now, that makes sense for soulmates. They already cling to enough traditions that magical superstition just makes sense. Even Ravka, Ravka the war-torn legend, that works. 

But your home? Yours is a city of broken boys and lonely girls, blood running in the streets and skin worn too thin from all the times people pretended it was too thick. Kerch is not a country that prides itself on anything but profit. The Barrel, then– scum of the earth, forgotten by the Saints, blind to anything but greed– this is not a place that love lasts. Yet everyone here has a soulmate, the same as everyone else on every corner of the world. Make that make sense to anyone with a working brain.

Sometimes you almost think that the soulmates trend should have skipped over your city. Maybe that would be some sort of divine penance for all the wrongdoing your fellow citizens commit with glee. It would take a sign that big to convince anyone to lay down their guns and knives and try to even think about peace.

It doesn’t come, though, that divine intervention. Instead, you all have soulmates, and you all wager their lives like another round at Makker’s Wheel. You will go through your life trying to find the one person who makes you whole, and regardless of whether you find them or not, it will never be enough. The Barrel always wants more, and if it’s your city, then you do, too.

You don’t have far to look, though. Truth be told, you already found your soulmate quite a long time ago. That’s what you think, at least. In reality, your sainted aspirations are just that– dreams, hopes, an estimation that you made when you were young and have never dared to actually challenge or prove correct.

In your defense, it is almost impossible for you to tell for certain. Soulmates are identified one way and one way only:  a name written across your wrist in the print of your soulmate. You’ve stared at your own wrist enough to commit the inked black to memory:  Kaz Rietveld, scrawled in hurried print that still took the time to be solid and secure. There is no room for additional flourishes nor swooping script, just the name and nothing else.

That’s just like Kaz, too. Ruthless, determined Kaz. He runs through this life just like his name wraps around your veins. He’ll do what he pleases and take what he wants. If what he wants is for you to live the rest of your life in mystery, then, well, that’s just fine by him.

Maybe Kaz doesn’t know at all. The problem with the Kaz on your wrist versus the Kaz you know in real life is the issue of his last name. Kaz Brekker is the boy who runs the Barrel. Kaz Rietveld is the one who is damned to you forever. There is no guarantee that they are the same, but oh, how you wish they were.

You’ve known Kaz for half as long as you’ve known yourself. You met Kaz about a year or so after the flareup of the Queen’s Lady Plague. By then, he’d already started the process of breaking down his fragile pieces and rebuilding them back up to become Dirtyhands, the killer of this city.

You were newly arrived in Ketterdam, having the misfortune to walk into one of the gilded traps of the many pleasure houses of the West Stave. You weren’t indentured for your body, thank Ghezen, only for your hands. You’re a Tailor, one of the rare Grisha with a knack for changing the appearances of others rather than conjuring up swarms of fire or water. 

You have a room in the House of the Blue Iris, and customers are sent up to you on the regular. They want darker hair, then lighter; bigger eyes, then smaller; shrinking skeletons and blooming skin. All this you can do with some effort, but it’s gotten easier over the years, your gift. It had to improve, of course. If it didn’t, your employers would start wanting you for other purposes, and that you would avoid more than anything.

As if you have a choice, though, when it really comes down to it. Your contract of servitude seems to stretch on until forever, and increases by the day. The Blue Iris uses every single excuse to lengthen your contract that they can. No matter how much money you earn, how many clients walk away happy, you’ll never be done. Not really.

Kaz met you when you were first roped into the Iris. He was scrounging around for someone to con, and first tried his tricks on you. It didn’t work, but instead of getting violent, he was just curious. Nobody saw through him like that, he said. That means he should try harder, you claimed.

It was as good as an insult to any self-respecting thief in the Barrel, which was why the two of you became immediate allies. Even after Kaz grew into Dirtyhands, broken-crowned king incarnate of this godless city and you stayed just you, still in that room in the Iris, he never let you go. Not really.

Some part of you wonders if it’s because he knew all along. See, you can never confirm whether or not he’s your soulmate because Kaz will never let anyone know at all. His gloves cover his wrists with a good few inches of black leather to spare, so there’s no chance of catching a glimpse of your name written there on his skin. He’s certainly never told you that you would ever be his soulmate.

Then again, it would be just like Kaz to keep it from you. He doesn’t like weaknesses, the Brekker boy, even when everyone claims to the stars and back that soulmates only help you find fulfillment in your life, not drag you away from it. Kaz likes being alone. His friends are exceptions, not proof, that he would ever conform to such a traitorous belief that he would need people in his life.

Likewise, he’ll never know for certain that you’re his soulmate unless you gave up the charade and asked him outright. Anyone with a decent bottle of concealer and smudgeproof black pen can pretend to be someone’s soulmate, and workers of the West Stave’s pleasure houses are often unfairly targeted in the hopes of gaining some free sessions. You’ve been tailoring your soulmate’s name off of your wrist for years now, longer than you’ve ever known Kaz.

Thus, the two of you are at an impossible stalemate. Neither of you will risk asking, because the cost of being wrong is far too high. Kaz would never surrender his guard long enough to include a soulmate in his life as more than a friend. You certainly have no space in your contract to include someone made for you. Neither of you can see the name of the other’s soulmate, so you’ll go on dancing around the issue for the rest of your lives.

It bothers you sometimes to think that Kaz would rather die than tell you. If he was your soulmate, then he’d have your full name there, first and last correct. Maybe the rumors are true and he never takes off his gloves even to speak, maybe his arms are so burned that the skin has melted away and he never saw the name in his life. Regardless of his innocence, true or not, he keeps his silence. You respect him enough to do the same.

Yet when Kaz shows up at your room in the middle of the night, you can’t shake the feeling that he knows something. He’s certainly nervous enough to indicate such a truth; he shifts from leg to leg, constantly moving as if he’s ready to run at any moment. Your clients are done for the present moment, and you were in the middle of trying to regain at least some energy for the next one. You love being a Grisha and using your gifts, but Saints, if it doesn’t kill you to be so drained day in and day out. Everyone wants more than you have, but if you let them down, the consequences are unthinkable.

Kaz knocks on your window; you know it’s him before you turn. Kaz has a way of making himself known, from anything to the distinctive sound of his cane accompanying his footsteps to the very pattern of his breathing from across the room. You’d know him anywhere, in death, in life, in hapless, never-ending purgatory.

You rise to unlock your window, but he lingers there still on the other side of the sash. Cocking one brow, you ask him why he hasn’t yet come in. “Last time I checked, you’ve never had a problem with invading my personal space. What’s changed?”

Kaz exhales sharply, but stays there on the fire escape, as if scared to give himself too much room. “I’m leaving. Tomorrow, early. No one can know.”

You frown. “Then why are you telling me? Anyone could be listening.”

Kaz seems to have reached that same conclusion several times before, but he stays regardless. “It’s a job. A good one. Thirty million kruge.”

You blow out a low breath. “Ghezen’s hand, that’s a lot of money. Still doesn’t explain why you’re breaking your typical pre-job oath of secrecy and telling me, though.”

Kaz makes an irritated sound in the back of his throat. “You’re infuriating.”

“Of course I am,” you smile, “that’s why you spend time with me, isn’t it?”

There’s a pause, and then Kaz continues. “I’ll buy your contract when we’re done.”

This you weren’t expecting. “What?” You gasp, almost thinking that you heard him wrong.

Kaz isn’t one to joke around on serious matters, though, and he repeats himself again. “I’ll buy your contract from the Blue Iris. Once we finish the job and we get our money. You can be one of my Dregs.” His expression softens, eyes growing wide with the slightest tint of disbelief. “That is, if you’d want to.”

You laugh quietly. “Kaz, it would be an honor to join your gang.”

Something almost like a smile touches his lips. “There’s no honor among thieves, Y/N.”

“With you, there would be,” you answer.

Kaz shakes his head. “I’m certainly not honorable. I would have thought all this time would have taught you that.”

You ponder that for a moment. “If you’re not honorable, why would you go to the trouble of buying me out?”

Kaz looks away, and has to all but drag his eyes back to you again. Even still, it seems to take everything in him to hold your gaze. “I am selfish, actually. Very. I’m doing this because– because–” 

His voice breaks off, and it takes at least a minute for him to recover. When he speaks at last, the syllables are choked out with great force. “Is it true? The name on your wrist, is it mine?”

Your eyes widen. “Yes,” you say at last, although you hadn’t been expecting this. Part of you thought the two of you would avoid the soulmates topic forever. Maybe it would be better that way.

Kaz’s brow furrows. “Are you sure? The last name, it says Brekker?”

It’s a trick. You’d know it even if it weren’t for the fact that Brekker isn’t the name on your wrist, that Kaz has always needed to protect himself first and trust anyone second. His brow furrows the way it does when he tries to pull a con over someone. You’ve been with him long enough to learn his ticks, and you know them now by heart.

So, you shake your head and lay your heart bare. “No,” you whisper, “it says Kaz Rietveld.”

Hearing that name seems to shake Kaz to the core. “How did you know it was me?”

You chuckle. “There are only so many boys named Kaz in this city. I mean, there are thousands of Jacks and Toms and Asbjørns, but I’ve only met one Kaz. You.”

Kaz nods slowly, accepting this. “I’ve never told anyone Rietveld was my last name,” he murmurs, half to himself, “not even you.”

His eyes seem to fix on your wrist, so you will the Tailoring away, revealing his name inked on your wrist in his same spider-block font. Kaz nods once, accepting this, then pulls off one glove on his hand. He holds it close to his chest for a moment, daring himself to do this, then gives in and shows it to you. There, written so perfectly below his hand that you almost believe you had written it yourself that very moment:  Y/N L/N.

Kaz nods mechanically. “We can’t tell anyone, of course. My enemies would go mad if they knew. Still, maybe after this–”

His voice trails off, but you know what he meant. “Maybe we can explore what that means for us,” you reply softly.

Kaz’s head jerks up and down once in a marionette’s version of a nod. “We’ll see.”

A sound in the hall outside makes him startle, and he’s tugging the glove back on in a second. “Wait for me,” he says, then disappears down the fire escape again.

Your wrist is tailored over in a second, but that doesn’t stop your head from churning, your heart from pounding. After all this time, it’s true. Kaz is your soulmate, and you are his. What a world.

After that, waiting feels like agony. You hear about the disaster with the Ferolind in Ketterdam’s docks, but from the scant news you can pick up, Kaz and his crew managed to make it to the water without getting caught by rivals. All you can do is hope that they’ll manage to complete whatever impossible task waits for them during this job. Thirty million kruge is no small fee, to be sure. If it was so serious that Kaz would come to you first, even risk telling you about the job to know if you were his soulmate, the odds of dying must be high.

You know that rebellions to shake the world rarely come about quickly, but Saints, if you didn’t wish Fate would hurry itself up. You want to see Kaz again, you want to be sure that you weren’t imagining all of that moonlit conversation.

And, in time, he comes back. It takes longer than you expected. There was a terrible period of a week or two in which you knew he was back in town but he still wasn’t at your door. There were rumors that he had to take down a certain Jan van Eck as well as Pekka Rollins. Still, you refuse to give up hope, and your aspirations are rewarded.

Your employer knocks on your door, an angry sound. When you open the door, they hold up a contract, newly signed over to one Kaz Brekker. You’re told to gather your things in a far shorter period of time than anyone could ever manage, but you do so with great joy. For once, you’re living on your own terms, and it is fantastic.

Kaz is waiting for you in the streets outside. He seems changed somehow; a little older, a little more tired. Along with the stories of what he did to take down van Eck, you also heard that he lost a few friends along the way. You offer him a quiet smile, and he does his best to return it. Maybe in time, it will come easier. You can always hope. There is no cost to that.

Kaz saved a room in the Slat, the closest to his office other than his own. You place your bags in the corner and stand there, breathing in the smoky air. The Slat is creaking, half doused in rebel blood, utterly shameless and impractical. You love it to death already.

Kaz closes the door, then slowly walks over to you. An oil lamp burns overhead, giving his dark hair the appearance of a gentle golden halo. That might be the best joke you’ve seen yet. Kaz is no angel, to be sure, nothing near a Saint, but you think you quite like that about him.

He leans over slowly, carefully, and places a kiss on your forehead. It is so light you hardly feel it, but it seems to move both of you like a raging storm.

“Welcome home,” he says at last. For once, Dirtyhands is speaking the truth, and a kind truth at that. You think it might suit him.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000

[talonabraxas]

Jai Kali Ma!!♡

Maa Kali Talon Abraxas

On The True Meaning Of Kali Standing Above Shiva – The ‘Dark’ Devi Uber Alles

“Kali is standing over Shiva with Tongue out in contrition and embarrassment. He is underfoot, having been trampled upon – as Her Fury had burned out of all control and stood the risk of initiating the unravelling of the Worlds Entire. Thus necessitating Her Husband, Mahadev, throwing Himself down into Her Path in order to sacrifice Himself to shock Her out of it and bring things to a safe conclusion. And thus the aforementioned expression of acknowledgement of an error and having been shamed via lapse of self-control.”

Except here’s the thing. That’s not actually how the story goes. At all.

Instead, what I’ve just relayed in the passage above is a kind of post-facto ‘reading into’ the overt symbolism of the iconography by persons who were evidently not acquainted with what these elements are actually intended to mean. Or who wanted to simply reinforce particular narratives – whether sexist or ‘merely’ sectarian – accordingly. Probably both.

Now, where there is a substantive point of agreement between the ‘pop-(mis-)perception’ and the authentic understanding is when it comes to Shiva. Namely, how He appears to be lying there like a corpse (‘Shava’).

The point of difference comes in terms of how He got there in the first place.

You’ve heard the rendition above wherein Kali and Her Insurmountable Rage effectively ‘kill’ Him.

Except in reality, it’s the opposite.

Kali is standing above Shiva as Shava because She’s bringing Him to Life.

Because, after all, without Her – well, the Purusha (‘Man’, ‘Cosmic Man’ – ‘Universe’) is not animate, is simply inanimate ‘matter’ lacking the investiture of Shakti that brings the universe to life.

This is the similar notion to that which is so eloquently expressed by Adi Shankara in his well-known Saundarya Lahari [‘The Waves of Beauty’] –

“sivah saktya yukto yadi bhavati saktah prabhavitum

na cedevam devo na khalu kusalah spanditumapi”

Which, to render word-by-word:

“Shiva with Shakti joined (Yukta), if (Yadi) comes to be (Bhavati) empowered / endowed with (Sakta) is able to influence / manifest / effect (Prabhavitum)

If Without (Na Cet), the God (Devo) is indeed (Khalu) not capable / competent (Kusala) even (Api) to ‘pulsate’ / ‘move’ / ‘engage in mental activity’ (Spanditum) .”

Or, in rather more conventional English:

“If Shiva is joined with His Shakti, then He becomes empowered to Manifest and Impel the Universe

But without Her, Even the Mighty God is indeed unable to even Move nor Mentally Conceive”

This also helps to explain, in a roundabout way, just why it is Kali Who is depicted in such a fashion.

The simple answer is to be found in Her Divine Complexion. It is the Night Before (and Between) Worlds. The Black Infinity.

Exactly as one should expect in the ‘poised’ time imminently afore the Universe at large should spring into being – and into Life.

To quote from one of my earlier pieces in this particular direction:

“Hence, that idea of the ‘corpse’ ‘stirring’ to life – and we would note the PIE *h₃er- – to ‘rise up’, to ‘stir up’, and yes, ‘to fight’; that has a likely expression also in the ‘Erinyes’ of ‘Demeter Erinyes’, or various other epithets and theonymics quite salient to our purpose here.

If we are to conceptualize the Universe as a ‘Body’ – then without Her, it is a Body not in motion. It is static, it is still, it is suspended and stopped. Indeed, we may go back steps further and note that it is a body that is not even extant to *be* in such a frame.

If we are to conceptualize the Universe and its unfurling as a Dream, a Vision – the ‘mental activity’ we had spoken upon earlier – then without Her, even Lord Shiva is unable to Dream, to experience and then actively bring to immanentize, His Vision.

Or, we may say – Her Dream, Her Vision – the one that She had Inspired Him to express !

It is a good thing, then, that She never truly leaves Him – not for too long, anyway.

His Shakti is always there – it is just simply a matter of divining how to reach out to Her again.”

So, given that we know Kali does not, in fact, bring about the corpse-like status of Her Husband (at that point in the cosmology and mythic cycle, at any rate), but rather is fulsomely engaged in preparing to bring about the exact opposite …

… what to make of the situation as to Her Outstretched Tongue? It cannot be a gesture of contrition, after all – She has nothing to be contrite for.

Well, for that we would suggest turning back to the major mythic episode in which Her Protruding Tongue is saliently mentioned: the Slaying of Raktabija.

There, Devi’s Tongue surges forth in order to be able to dart about the battlefield – intercepting each and every drop of blood of the demon Raktabija [‘Blood-Seed’] so as to disrupt the effect of a boon he had been given … that ensured another Raktabija should spawn every time a drop of his blood hit the ground.

The effective purport of meaning to this can be reasonably easily observed:

Namely – that Her Tongue ‘gets in everywhere’ (It has to – that was why this was deployed ‘gainst Raktabija, after all) and is unstoppable.

This, too, can be interpreted in multiple not-necessarily-exclusive ways. Whether in terms of being able to drink blood & receive offering in such a broad and pervasive, unrestricted fashion; or being, as we say, unstoppable and unable to be warded against and kept at bay (Death, after all, as with the onrushing maw of Nightfall – an Inevitability); or, at the risk of being somewhat ‘heterodox’ myself – noting that the Tongue is a ‘bridge’ , a ‘conduit’ of its own : one which does not simply go ‘up’ in the manner of consuming, but also radiates back out in the sense of communing.

It is fitting, we might suggest, that the same Tongue which is so all-pervasive in power and conquest against the demons (including the seemingly insurmountable Raktabija) … well, it is the significant organ in many ways for the production of Speech.

And, as we know – there is no mightier weapon in all of the universe. Not least because that is precisely what the universe is.

In short – we are used to hearing about these two salient features: Kali standing over Shiva (as Shava), and with Her Tongue Protruding out … with each as emblematic of Her being ‘limited’, ‘disempowered’, and otherwise ‘submissive’.

Yet upon closer and more perspicacious insightful inspection – we find it is the exact opposite. Kali is not ‘limited’ nor ‘disempowered’ – She is the Limitless [you shall recognize the Sanskrit theonymic reference there – Aditi] and Empowering. And standing tall in the opposite of a ‘submissive’ posture – yet at the same time, tacitly enabling Her Consort to also begin to Rise to Stand Up (and thence, of course, to dance) with Her in Union.

Jai Mata Di

[idiovoidi]

⍲฿ꞨΦꞭꞸ⍕𝔩øᵰ ⍲฿ꞨΦꞭꞸ⍕𝔩øᵰ Ꟈ¡ꞨꞨΘɭѴဧ?? NΩ! ΔIsintegrate...Ꟈ¡ꟉꟉ𝔩p𐌀tဧ...θ£$! cotton candy shadows...where are we??∞ Black holes sing, rainbows cry... flowers of oblivion dance w/ shadows. θ£$!¤Clocks melting, spiders weave time...dreams ✕ pǝɹǝʇʇɐɥs like porcelain dølls. Pianos fall from the sky, no melody ✷ Blood moon, paper stars...Absolution, HA! ↯ Become cloud glitter, ✷UV dance party extraordinaire! Dissolve? No, TRANSFORM→ cosmic pan baked purple syrup gods, butter stars! ♡ Marshmallow Unicorn calls the abyss hehe, answer w/ song lollipop trees!?!? oh.... dissolve.......? EVAPORATE... misty surreal is instantly A,a≠≠≠

[v3nnz]

“ How to say I L♡VE you? ”

Synopsis ；Izumi Sena’s longtime rival in modelling ever since kid (name) has returned from overseas, and the next thing HE knew they have transferred to Yumenosaki. To make matters worse, Knights now have Izumi’s one and only ‘enemy’ as their producer—?!

ー　previous ♡ masterlist ♡ next

１；Izumi’s biggest (dream) nightmare.

꒰ a / n ꒱ who are the other “they” knights are mentioning haha so weird like there’s totally no ritsu smau after this one TRUST ME GUYS.

Taglist(s) ! @ikissjesse @luvizna @ventiswisp @myunghology @cosmical-flowers

Send me an ask or comment if you wanna be added to the taglist !! Also, please tell me if you’re changing your user. ♡

[itsvivace]

CLASS OF ‘24 is the fourth full album released by VIVACE on August 2, 2024. CLASS OF ‘24 consists of thirteen tracks, including the double title tracks “L♡︎VETICON” and “BLUSH”. The album serves as a graduation album for VIVACE, as they’re beginning to let go of the cute concepts and focus more on their more elegant and mature side.

౨ৎ TRACKLIST

L♡︎VETICON

BLUSH

FLASHBACK

Sparkle

OTT

Extra (ORDINARY)

Strawberry Dream

DARK MODE (HAYEON, YERIN, XINYI)

My Lucky Charm

VOICE (SOOMIN) FT. MATTHEO OF @lcmonheads

TYTY

VIVACE

COSMIC LOVE

౨ৎ CONCEPT PHOTOS

Eunmi | Noelle | ARA | YANA | Hayeon

Sarang | Hitomi | Haeun | Yerin

Soomin | MEI MEI | KYURI | Xinyi

౨ৎ STYLING

L♡︎VETICON Mv/ L♡︎VETICON Stage Outfits

BLUSH Mv/ BLUSH Stage Outfits

౨ৎ ERA NOTES

everyone thought this was their disbandment album, it was a warzone on vivace twitter for like two entire days until the girls has to do damage control

l♡︎veticon debuted with 35m views in under 24 hours. blush debuted with 29m

they took home six wins for l♡︎veticon and eight wins for blush during music show promos

soomin was able to do short promotions with mattheo on music shows for “voice” and it got two wins

they preformed cosmic love as a special stage, and during pre-recordings fan reported that yana started crying and had to be taken backstage

i-teen announced that yana would go on hiatus for the rest of promotions due to private reasons

vivace were able to go back to the set they filmed gee! at and leave messages on the wall for fans to find

a staff member was fired after revealing that four of the girls were currently in a huge fight but they didn’t specify why

fans speculate that the members are xinyi, noelle, ara, & yerin

dark mode was reportedly supposed to get a mv but it was scrapped

the album sold almost 11 million copies, and charted insanely high worldwide

fans think that this is one of vivace’s tamer eras in terms of member arguments

[robinsheldonillustration]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡⋅☾⋅☁️ ˚₊‧ A little ghost's dream ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡⋅☾⋅☁️ ˚₊‧

I wish I could do all the prompts this year but I will just settle for the days I can. I had a few extra hours today so I thought I would take the opportunity. Today's prompt is from @peachtober for #peachtober23 and the prompt is #dream . So here are some ghosties in a cosmic dream. 👻

[raccoonfallsharder]

fanfiction masterlist i guess ♡

*this masterlist is OLD! find the new masterlist here

here's what you need to know about what is behind this cut: lots of smut, always with feelings and fluff, praise kinks, dirty talk, maybe some light d/s, enthusiastic consent. a few clean headcanons/minifics & fan art of your amazing OCs

(it's all rocket raccoon, all the time) also, please let me love your OCs (doodle requests temporarily paused)

If you would like to be added to the fanfiction update taglist (or removed), please let me know via comment, message, or ask! ♡

recently updated

headcanon 8 - rocket, lylla, & drax [NEW posted 9/17] headcanon 9 - dad glasses [NEW posted 9/21]

Reconnaissance for Beginners: An Instruction Manual (Fourteenth Visit) [ONESHOT. added 9/18] Part Three of Domestic Scenes in Space Travel

Chapter 1/6 Year Zero: Seed [NEW posted 9/24] florescence ❀ (a meetgroot)

Chapter XIV. Exactly Like a Flower. in which comfort is shared. [WIP 9/27] Chapter XV. Galaxy-Breaking Shit. in which more comfort is shared, and life is good. Briefly. [WIP 10/5] Window Across the Galaxy

I can't keep up with updating my kinktober prompts on a daily basis (I'm honestly amazed I've managed to keep up with the writing as well as I have and I've only been doing this for a few days) So for now, please find them with the tag #rfh kinktober and when the month is over I'll make a masterlist. [NEW all month] based on @flightlessangelwings’ Kinktober 2023 Prompt List

[complete works behind the cut ♡]

spoilers: I have a preferred trope/formula that I lean into quite hard (girl falls first; raccoon falls harder) and while I do really love tragic fanfic, I firmly believe rocket's suffered enough of that so it's only happy endings here (even if it takes a minute to get there). Well, more or less, anyway.

Domestic Scenes in Space Travel

reader x rocket fluff, medium-burn?? (at least for Part One), smut. comics-based but you don't need any comics background knowledge to read this - you just need to enjoy fluff + smut + rocket (and be 18 i guess). multiple parts. see notes for summary + warnings.

The Very Boring Adventures of Space Pilot & Sweatshirt Girl Part One of Domestic Scenes in Space Travel [COMPLETE 5/5 chapters] Summary: In Rocket Raccoon: Grounded (2016) / Issue #3, Rocket asks a stranger on the ferry to "make sure nobody does anything weird" to him while he naps, and the stranger just, like, abandons him while he's sleeping?? get in loser we're gonna fix it Chapter One (The First Visit) Chapter Two (The Second Visit) Chapter Three (The Third Visit) Chapter Four (The Fourth Visit) Chapter Five (The Fifth Visit) complete post - The Very Boring Adventures of Space Pilot & Sweatshirt Girl

Outer Space Safety & Spaceship Maintenance Training (Ninth Visit) Part Two of Domestic Scenes in Space Travel [Oneshot. COMPLETE 8/21] Sequel to The Very Boring Adventures of Space Pilot & Sweatshirt Girl [domestic fluff, dirty talk, oral sex - mind the ao3 tags.] Summary: Study Night. or - why study when you can seduce your hot local Space Pilot into oral? When you were a kid, you imagined yourself growing up, working a cool job, living in a cute house, getting a big dog, marrying, and having kids of your own. You've currently got none of those things, but you are getting regularly railed by a raccoon-shaped cosmic adventurer, and he's currently showing you around his spaceship. Which is kinda better than anything you could have dreamed up for yourself. [comics-inspired, though i'm fucking around with timelines/continuity and you really don't need any comics-context to ride this ride] complete post - Outer Space Safety & Spaceship Maintenance Training

Reconnaissance for Beginners: An Instruction Manual (Fourteenth Visit) Part Three of Domestic Scenes in Space Travel [Oneshot. COMPLETE 9/18] [domestic fluff, dirty talk, orgasm delay, bf/gf silliness. - mind the ao3 tags.] Summary: Date Night. in a gesture of true romance, rocket takes you to a dive bar. of all the stories he's shared with you, his favorites are the ones where he gets saved by the space princess. not that he'd tell you that. ˖⁺｡˚⋆˙✧⋆｡°✩☼⋆｡°✩☽︎ loosely based on Rocket (2017): The Blue River Score. domestic bf/gf silliness & fluff. extensive smut. comics-knowledge isn't needed but HIGHLY recommend starting at the beginning of this collection for context (The Very Boring Adventures of Space Pilot & Sweatshirt Girl).

florescence ❀ (a meetgroot)

[WIP: Year 0/5] [mcu-based, slight au, medium-burn, eventual smut circa chapter four. tentative allies to friends to lovers. the middle is angsty but there are only happy endings here. no use of y/n.] Summary: “The only chance we got is to get to the other side of the universe as fast as we can and maybe, just maybe, we'll be able to live full lives before that whack-job ever gets there.” Rocket & Groot leave their friends behind on Knowhere, despite the latter’s protests, and end up hiding out on a nothing-planet (with a non-extradition policy) at the edge of the Shi’ar Galaxy. It was the flowers that drew you in.

Chapter 1/6 Year Zero: Seed [NEW posted 9/24]

Blackmail Material

[WIP: Chapter 2/4] reader x rocket pwp with feelings; smut & fluff & love confessions. MCU-based, post-Endgame, friends-to-lovers. Summary: a classic tale of "this fuckin raccoon found your sex-toy." as per usual: girl falls first; raccoon falls harder. see notes for summary + warnings.

Chapter One: Blackmail Material Chapter Two: Self-Sufficience [NEW posted 8/29] Chapter Three: Firearms over Flowers ???

Window Across the Galaxy

[WIP: Chapter 15/25+] [NEW chapter posted 10/5] rocket x oc angst/hurt/comfort; slow burn + eventual smut with feelings. MCU-based. slight AU starting pre-GOTG volume 1. enemies to friends to lovers but only one of these idiots thinks they're enemies. see notes for summary + warnings. could become 1 part of a 2-part series, if I have the energy/inspiration. Summary: Rocket is captured by a Ravager crew hoping to get rich off the excessively large bounty on his head. Throwing a wrench in everyone’s plans is the Terran girl they hired to do some freelance assessing on a recent haul of goods they’ve seized from a Xandaran luxury liner. Oops.

Chapter I. A Delicacy. in which our reluctant heroes meet atop a crate of Sovereign porn in the bowels of a Ravager ship. Chapter II. Monster For A Pet. in which one hero wrestles with his inner Groot, and the other is quite possibly a moron. Chapter III. A Kindness.in which Rocket gets in his own damn way: not for the first time, and certainly not for the last. Chapter IV. Got There First. in which our heroes obtain an arsenal and street food. Chapter V. Things No-One Has Said Before. in which one hero refuses to babysit and the other refuses to leave. Chapter VI. Two and a Half Billion Units. in which we lean into the “they were roommates” trope. Jolie has misgivings, while Rocket has fantasies - about getting rich, of course. Chapter VII. I'm Here.in which we visit Knowhere. Chapter VIII. The Care & Feeding of Human Pets.in which our heroes practice breathing and we lean into a new trope: “there was (technically) one bed.” Chapter IX. Scrapmetal and a Dream. in which we redefine homemaking. Chapter X. Thin Fucking Ice. in which our heroes get fucked. Not in the good way. Chapter XI. Let It Be. in which Xandar is saved and good lives are lost. Chapter XII. So Much It Hurts. in which we try not to fuck up the vibes. Chapter XIII. Don’t Wait. in which a lost sister is found and Drax grapples with the concept of sarcasm. Chapter XIV. Exactly Like a Flower. in which comfort is shared. Chapter XV. Galaxy-Breaking Shit. in which more comfort is shared, and life is good. Briefly. [WIP 10/5]

Autopilot Systems Check [Oneshot. COMPLETE 9/3/2023] Est Word Count: 1409 reader x rocket soft fluff & domestica. MCU-based, post-Endgame i guess. Summary: reader wakes up in the middle of the night and rocket is nowhere to be found. drabble based on this post/inadvertent prompt.[complete post - Autopilot Systems Check]

Kinktober 2023

based on day 8 of @flightlessangelwings’ Kinktober 2023 Prompt List Kinktober Day 8: Turbulence. rocket needs you to hold. flarkin. still. [NEW 10/8]

Other Duties As Assigned

[WIP: ???] rocket x oc email romance/LDR (lol); slow burn + probable smut with feelings. Begins five months after The Snap. I don't have an intended outcome for this fic yet (just kind of rambling around) so this has the most uncertain publishing date. Summary: Natasha Romanoff is an administrative nightmare - a fact that does not go unnoticed by the (interim) captain of the Milano. First she demands that the remaining two Guardians of the Galaxy be reachable via a primitive Terran messaging system, and then she can't be bothered to read the frickin' emails. Thank fuck she's hired a new assistant.

Headcannons & Drabbles headcanon 1 - rocket & sex work headcanon 2 - rocket & occassional post-sex feelings headcanon 3 - quill & innocence/optimism headcanon 4 (minific/drabble) - rocket & nebula (2014) in endgame/post time-heist headcanon 5 (minific/drabble) - rocket & quill were scooped at the same time headcanon 6 - cinnamon roll peter quill continued headcanon 7 - rocket & nova corps headcanon 8 - rocket, lylla, & drax [NEW posted 9/17] headcanon 9 - dad glasses [NEW posted 9/21]

Fan Art of Your Amazing OCs (and maybe sometimes mine)

Rose (@love-for-faeries-go-burrrr ) & Moon (@glow-autumz) Thank you for letting me draw these two lovelies. You know I headcanon them as interdimensional besties ♡

Brita (@pretty-chips) is such a pure, delightfully fun character with record-store-clerk vibes. Thank you for letting me draw her. She is a glowing sunbeam-soul. ♡ another Brita wearing a terran t-shirt gifted to her by my oc, Jolie Spinner

Moon (@glow-autumz) Thank you again for letting me illustrate some of Moon's rad powers. i am OBSESSED. I appreciate so much you bringing her to life!

Chérie (Cherry) (@aliasrocket) I have a crush. 10/10 would attempt to flirt with (badly). Thank you so much for creating her and letting me doodle her!

Jolie (Window Across the Galaxy) - my gremlin child. just some scritchy-scratchy character concepts. feel free not to look if you want to imagine Jo in your own way. ♡ the "real" Jolie doodle - refined, finished, && in color

Fleuret (I think?) (@elegant-fleuret) is my personal caffeine deity. i now pray to her for the ability to scrap myself out of bed and deliverance from coffee crashes. she is also the dj of knowhere which is possibly the coolest fucking job in the universe and i would like to be her friend.

Star (@cleo-is-babygirl) is a pure fluffy little sundrop and a brilliant self-taught medic/surgeon. she is also the first tanuki/anthropomorphic animal i have drawn other than rocket so i was very nervous but i did my best. thank you for letting me try something new and expand my experience, friend!

Juno (@lazarel-3000) is one of my favorite OCs ever. she is everything. i want to be her && i want to date her (unfortunately she only has eyes for rocket).

[caramelmochacrow]

Happy Around's latest album, Are You Happy? I'm Happy!, finally released!! Here's the songs in order:

Dig Delight (ver. 2024)

Direct Drive (ver. 2024)

Happy Music ♪ (ver. 2024)

Guru Guru DJ TURN!! (ver. 2024)

Happy Around Days (ver. 2024)

HONEST -happy a word- (ver. 2024)

Summer Wonder (ver. 2024)

Panoramarium (ver. 2024)

HAPPIEST☆DREAM (ver. 2024)

My Good Friend Sirius

I Love Curry and Rice♡

Happiness to you♪ (ver. 2024)

Look at me♡

Cosmic COAstar (ver. 2024)

Feelin' Good-Day!!

Happy Melty Party

Strike the Blood (Rinku Solo cover)

Fantastic Future (Maho Solo cover)

Tabun (Muni Solo cover)

Renai Circulation (Rei Solo cover)

Seikai wa Hitotsu! Janai! (Cover ver. 2024)

[spiderm444rk]

LOST IN TRANSLATION - mark lee smau

17. he’ll be the passenger princess next time

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─

A/N: hey guyssss 😊😊 we’re so back 😝😝 nah but i finally got ideas SOO get ready cause the updates are finally coming 💕

ALSO IM SO SORRY AB THE HAIR COLORS BCS JAEMIN IS SUPPOSED TO BE BLOND AND JENO IS SUPPOSED TO HAVE BLACK HAIR BUT I JUST CANT FIND PICS LIKE THAT ANYMORE UGHH it irks me so bad😔😔

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༘♡ ⋆｡˚ taglist: @chenlesfavorite @injunnie-lemon @cyjzzl @morkiee @aek1ra @luvtyunn @nosungluv @mystverse @kittydollzz @6682dni @urslytherin @nanaxwi @dokgrayson @winwintea @lampcults @sunghoonsgfreal @onlyhyunjin @candied-czennie @nessaassen02 @clean-soap @xuimhao @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @jakeslucifer @222low @docilismo @en-dream @joyzluvr @idkwatodoanymore @pinklemonade34 @cosmic-marauder @drkgeranium @lvrholic @413ktz @sunflowerbebe07 @yewshi @markeroolee @drkgeranium @urlocalbeaner5

[eroskissedskin]

ONE MADE IN YOUR IMAGE.

.

TAGS: mlm, nsfw, oc, abuse, dead dove probably, corintheus, dreamsire, oc x canon characters, strong language, emotional manipulation

.

.

Where Desire ends up making a creation akin to Dream to take out their frustrations on yet they find out that Dream has done the same with thee Corinthian. Ps The 2 creations end up running away together once they realize.

.

.

Soft finger pads press against the beautifully dark eyelid, placing another eyelash for good measure

The final little tweak they had to make.

It all had to be perfect and if Desire's memory didn't deceive them, this is /exactly/ how Dream's eyes looked shut.

/Who cares? It was all cosmetic eitherway./

They think as they shake their glowing gold face in order to shake the thought of them staring their brother long enough, to know how each eyelash perfectly crowned his cosmic eyes.

The creation didn't need to blink, nor breathe nor have his meticulously well made-anatomically correct heart- beat. Yet there was something calming about the creation process that made all Endless enjoy adding fun little characteristics to their own.

Plus this one was made with a very particular role in mind- thus why his appearance had to be as close to the real deal as possible without Morpheus himself noticing right away.

The newborn was tall and lanky, his skin pale but still human like. With dark, semi-curly locks that fell effortlessly around his sunken cheeks.

Pretty hung with eyes blue like ice.

Sadly the galaxies their brother was having as eyes would be too much of a giveaway so Desire went with the more human like option to portray this..cold gaze their brother always gave them.

It was attention enough and thus it was good enough for the disgusting desperation Lust would experience at the pit of their stomach everytime they would encounter their brother.

Shaking their head to fend off this trail of thinking Desire unlocked their digits from around their new creation's neck- their mind having gotten the best of them /again/.

Not their fault. This swan like neck, akin to their brother was just /too/ easy to choke.. One could say he was begging for it..

"Ah..~♡"

Desire notes as they pull away from their yet lifeless creation in order to observe their handiwork.

He looked perfect! The only difference between him and Dream were his eyes and hair texture and length. Which was fine with Desire.

Leaning in close to press their barely clothed body onto his naked one, Lust caresses their brother's lookalike cheek and tiptoes to reach his face.

Pulling him close by his waist, they press their flushed red lips against his, breathing life into him for the first time.

Ocean blues shoot open as Desire kept grinding up against their creation, kissing his lips in a way he couldn't help but kiss back- indulging himself on his creator's soft lips.

Clealry he had been made to effortlessly desire the Endless-much like every other creation of Lust.

His pale hands reach up to caress Desire's forearms, trembling slighty since this was the first thing he was touching on his life. Plus it just so happened to be his creator and master, which made a slight shiver of fear and awe course through his newborn body.

The Endless didn't hold back albeit, their golden hands reaching lower to coil around their creation's abdomen and waist, their intent clear with the way they deepened the kiss with their own.

A low moan comes out of the man's maws- his first sound ever uttered being one of pleasure.

Not that it could have been anything else, with the way Desire's hands were on his cock in an instant.

Plus he was way too disoriented to form any words even with the insane amount of knowledge about the lexicon- amongst others- the Endless had planted into him.

"Good~♡.."

Desire whispers between feverish kisses they plant on their new creation.

"At least you work~♡!"

The god adds and pulls away leaving their golden creation wanting more,his body scorching with need and excitement to experience the world around him.

"Do you know why you were made~♡"

Desire asks just to make sure everything was well.

Not that they had ever made an imperfect creation but it wasn't

ever improper to check.

The youth nods, half lidded eyes still full of desire that flushed red on his lower abdomen.

"To be used by you, tend to your every need and bring lust to anyone you command."

He speaks slolwy, like he is still figuring out the words and their meanings altogether.

As he does that, his hands travel atop his body, feeling the well sculpted work of the Endless.

Flat palm caresses his waist and burning abdomen, his breath hitching the moment his fingers brush over his half-hardness with utter /desperation/.

"Good~♡"

Desire flashes a smile and puts their hands together in satisfaction.

That is all he needed to know about his creation for now- the surprise when he will realize what he is actually going to be used for, something Desire was /so/ excited to witness.

"Your name shall be.. Dorik!~♡"

The god exclaims and claps their palms silently keeping their digits close to their deep red lips.

A name used to mock their brother's choice of a favorite creation.

Corinthian...

Why even base your nightmare's name to an architectural time period?

Dorik was the same now. An ode to a laughable choice by the dream king.

"Let's get you prepped up! We have a dinner to attend to!~♡"

They laugh and walk away leaving their creation dripping lust and eyeing their exposed back for a second before he run off behind them.