#Soulmate AUs are nice but I think it’s better that they’re soulmates not because the universe willed it so

[lemonwrap]

Soap was lucky enough to meet his soulmate at twenty four. The thing is…they didn’t get along great. That’s not completely unheard of for soulmates, but it didn’t make Soap and Connor get along any better.

They didn’t hate each other, no. Some days they got along well. The conversation flowed, the laughter wasn’t so strained, and the sex was good—but things always seemed better when they were apart.

They clashed on nearly everything. Connor thought Soap’s mohawk and callsign were childish, and Soap thought that Connor was overbearing and that all of his friends were assholes. Soap’s talkative nature often annoyed Connor, and Connor’s nitpicky personality often annoyed Soap in turn. Connor didn’t like Soap’s job because it kept them apart, but the military was what held Soap together and provided structure when he didn’t have much else. Soap felt out of place at Connor’s large family gatherings, where his entire family was formal and a bit cold, but Connor felt suffocated by Soap’s small but lively family.

Soap and Connor’s soulmate status didn’t seem to matter much whenever they argued. They fought until they mutually decided to break it off a few years later, and although Soap was upset, the relief vastly outweighed it. He hasn’t attempted to seek anything else out, though. How can he be right for anyone if he isn’t even right for his soulmate?

Soap tries to keep this attitude when he’s recruited into the 141 and meets Ghost, but Ghost is…well, he’s Ghost.

Soap is pretty sure he could write a whole book about his lieutenant, starting with the way Ghost kept him grounded with jokes while he was sneaking through the streets of Las Almas and ending with how the first time Ghost took off his mask, it was to kiss Soap.

They get along startlingly well, even in shitty circumstances—two peas in a pod, two halves of a whole, two pieces from different puzzles that just happen to be a match—Ghost and Soap are a fantastic team. Their arguments don’t usually last long, and they’ve never been over trivial things like Soap’s haircut or Ghost’s habit of hoarding tea well past its expiration date.

On the field, they have each other’s six, and sometimes Soap doesn’t even need an order from Ghost. He just intuitively knows what Ghost needs, on and off the field. They just work, and Soap didn’t realize that he could ever get along with someone this well.

Ghost has revealed little of his past even to Soap, but he said that his soulmate died before they even met. Trauma after trauma and a few failed relationships made Ghost eventually decide that he wasn’t going to bother, and he kept to himself until Soap joined the 141.

Soap is damn glad he somehow found his way into Ghost’s heart like he did. Soap thinks of Connor sometimes, and he’s sure Ghost thinks of his own soulmate occasionally, but neither of them truly loved someone until they met the other.

Maybe your soulmate isn’t someone who the universe chooses for you—your soulmate is someone you choose for yourself.

[bbyseok]

at first sight? — GOJO SATORU

pairing: gojo satoru x gn!reader

word count: 10k (idek i was possessed)

banner by @/bbyseok , dividers by @/bunnysrph !!

a/n: um hi. its finally here ! thanks to all who liked the teaser, this is my first jjk/gojo fic ever but i really think everyone needs some comfort after jjk chap 261.. and fuck u gege !!

content: soulmate au, gender neutral reader, minimal use of they/them pronouns for reader but gender is not specified, sorcerer reader, nicknames ‘sweetheart’, ‘pretty’, ‘baby’, fluff, mild angst with a happy ending, slowburn??, several pov switches, suggestive/implied nsfw at the end but nothing explicit, brief swearing/explicit language, brief violence/injuries, alcohol consumption, reader gets mildly drunk but nothing else, implied satosugu as past soulmates: can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic, fic takes place after jjk 0 but before the show starts

analysis: this is a world filled not only with curses, but soulmates—in which you know someone is your soulmate when you first make eye contact with them. but for your case, things can get a bit complicated when someone is wearing a blindfold.

here, in this universe, you can tell that someone is your soulmate by simply looking at them. so with that, the saying of “love at first sight” is actually pretty accurate here. you see them for the very first time and barely know the person and yet, somehow, they’re the one you’re destined to be with.

with that, you’d think it’d be pretty common for two random people to run into each other while crossing the street or something and bam! suddenly you’ve found the supposed love of your life!

and you? well, for you, that hasn’t happened yet.

to be fair, it’s not like you’re actively trying to look for your soulmate. handling curses as a jujutsu sorcerer is difficult enough. (maybe you’ll run into them one day after saving them from a curse or something. how romantic!)

it’s better to leave it up to fate. it’s fate who decided your pairing anyway, right?

your transfer to jujutsu tech had been fairly smooth. after being stationed in kyoto for a while, tokyo was a nice change of pace.

coincidentally, you had been out of the country during the incident known as the night parade of a hundred demons. a scary event that proved the threat of curse users to be formidable.

because of that, your decision to transfer to tokyo seemed like the right thing to do. and so far, it’s been decent.

it’s a nice change of scenery. the students are aspiring; while maki and megumi aren’t the friendliest, they’re warming up to you. toge and panda are gradually improving.

nanami’s pessimistic outlook on jujutsu society and shoko’s overall unenthusiastic demeanor are certainly interesting for the most part, but your coworkers are pleasant to be around.

well. except for one.

gojo satoru knows that you are his soulmate. he has indeed known this fact right from the very start, ever since your first meeting.

even with his blindfold on, he could see your own eyes before him. his six eyes can see everything. the thing is.. he didn’t know he could have another soulmate.

his situation with geto suguru is something he doesn’t talk about with anyone. maybe shoko at times, but even then, it’s rare. it’s not that he doesn’t want to, but it’s pretty hard to talk about.

after suguru defected, gojo could still obviously feel their bond. even though they were no longer together as the strongest duo, did it really matter when their souls were still connected to one another? it was a factor that played in avoiding (and perhaps meeting up with) each other as the years went by.

satoru felt their bond die that day after the events with okkotsu and rika. and it had frightened him. that lingering presence of the bond was no longer there.

so imagine his surprise when he sees you.

a new sorcerer in kyoto, now transferred to tokyo. normally, gojo doesn’t seek out the new recruits, but yaga had dragged him over regardless. besides, he might as well get to know his possible assistant teacher that would be helping him out with the new first years.

“i guess i can check out some new faces,” he relented with a sigh, adjusting his blindfold and looking to the side as yaga’s steps slowed as they approached you.

gojo rolled his eyes–not that you’d see it anyway–as yaga introduced you with your name and your sorcerer grade. he stopped to stand next to the principal.

you extended your hand to offer a handshake, and gojo finally turned his head.

that feeling as his gaze fell upon yours beneath the blindfold was familiar—frighteningly so—and unfamiliar at the same time. as if he could breathe for the first time in ages. your eyes are unaware, but they’re so revealing to him.

satoru stuttered in his movements, reluctantly taking your hand. the skin that touched yours felt like it was on fire. he briefly held on to see if you felt it too.

but you simply smiled up at him.

“it’s nice to meet you, gojo,” you said, blissfully unaware of the revelation currently dawning on the man before you and the turmoil it brought as he abruptly retracted his arm back.

gojo stiffened. he merely offered a curt nod before turning on heel and walking away briskly. he could faintly hear yaga protest about his sudden departure before apologizing to you hastily. satoru shook his head.

how was this be possible? how could the universe give him two soulmates? he didn’t even know that was a thing that could happen. he wondered if there had been a similar occurrence before.

gojo couldn’t help but feel nauseous. was this the world playing some sort of sick, cruel joke on him? or was it perhaps giving him a second chance?

and truthfully, it wasn’t like gojo even wanted another soulmate. not after what he had been through with suguru. he hadn’t given it much thought.

was it really worth it?

what if he couldn’t protect you too?

so satoru had decided on one thing that day: the blindfold stays on. concealing his eyes from the world not only for him, but for your sake too. he was certain in his choice; he would never tell you the truth.

as far as you were concerned, you haven’t met your soulmate yet.

and never will.

your first meeting with gojo wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but it wasn’t something you could describe as good either. you’ve been left with the impression that he’s cocky and indifferent.

and that he doesn’t like you.

it’s been around.. two? three weeks? it’s been a while since your encounter with the white-haired sorcerer, and you’ve only seen a few glimpses of him here and there on campus.

okay, he doesn’t display any outright mean or ill intention towards you. on the very rare times the two of you do interact, he is obviously curt and clipped. seems like he’s deemed you worthy of the only either nods or one word responses.

you’ve yet to actually participate in a lesson or mission with gojo, but you prefer it that way. providing individual training and advice for the upcoming second years has been going great. at this point, you’re sure it’d only be awkward.

besides, the strongest sorcerer alive doesn’t necessarily need assistance in dealing with curses after all. that much is understandable.

you’re currently in the teachers’ lounge room with nanami. even though he isn’t actually a teacher, he pays visits sometimes. he’s good company anyway.

“it’s nice to hear that you’re settling in well,” the blonde says with a nod. he loosens his necktie absentmindedly as he adjusts the newspaper in his lap. “especially with that gojo around. he can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”

you frown at the mention of the sorcerer, crossing your arms. you’re seated across from nanami, watching him idly look through the newspaper.

“oh, well, actually, he isn’t too much trouble. for me, at least,” you reply, brows furrowing, “he barely talks to me.” (in fact, he seems to avoid you like you’re carrying the plague or something.)

nanami looks up, raising a brow. “huh. you should be grateful then.” he then hums, “but maybe that’ll change once there’s actually new first year students to teach. you both are assigned to them after all.”

you lean back in your seat, your shoulders committing to a halfhearted shrug. “maybe. it’s not like i never did anything bad to him though..”

nanami sighs gruffly. “don’t think about it too much.” before he can continue, there’s the sound of footsteps. nanami brings his newspaper back up, muttering, “speak of the devil.”

“nanamiiii!” gojo’s voice sounds from around the corner. it almost startles you how lively he sounds. you realize you’ve never actually heard or seen how he acts without you around.

nanami doesn’t respond, rolling his eyes.

gojo strolls in enthusiastically, blindfold on. “heyy, nanami, we should-” he cuts off when he presumably sees you, falling quiet and stopping short.

you blink, a bit hurt. does he dislike you that much? but you don’t let it show, resorting to greeting him politely like you usually do when you occasionally pass each other.

“good afternoon, gojo,” you muse, offering a little wave.

nanami notices his reaction too, but doesn’t comment on it. he continues to ignore the sorcerer’s presence in fact, eyes still roaming over the newspaper.

gojo clears his throat and resumes his pace. “afternoon,” he responds, focusing his attention back on nanami. he reaches the two of you, giving you no further acknowledgment.

you don’t care if he can see you looking at him, you opt to stare at the black blindfold covering his face. you have a hunch that he can see, or at least feel, you staring at him.

“can i borrow you for a sec, nanami?”

nanami emits an exasperated sigh, but stands nonetheless to follow gojo out of the room for some discussion not meant for your ears apparently, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

do you make gojo uncomfortable? you don’t know what you could’ve possibly done so though. from what you’ve heard from the others, he can be rather eccentric and overbearing.

does he just not like you? perhaps he views you as inferior, too below his level and power to actually converse with you. while it seems a bit of a stretch, you’re sure it’s not out of the possibility also based on what you’ve heard about him from others.

your frown returns. before you can dwell on it any longer, nanami comes back into the room. “well, i certainly see what you mean from what you said about gojo earlier,” he announces.

his words do nothing to falter your frown. “right.” you then shrug once more, “it’s okay. it’s just a bit.. strange.” you then shake your head, trying to be a bit optimistic. “but also like you said earlier, that might change! who knows?”

who knows, indeed.

megumi tucks the cursed tools inside their designated box and closes the lid. he moves on to the next one right as gojo enters the shed, beaming a smile.

“hey, megumi. you almost done wrapping up things here?” satoru asks, undoing his blindfold naturally. there’s a pair of glasses in his hand ready for use.

the teen nods. they had used a few cursed tools during training session today, and the storage did need a bit of tidying up. “almost done.”

satoru makes a noise of approval as he places his glasses on. “great! do you need help setting up your dorm room?” he looks excited at the idea, still grinning.

meanwhile, megumi looks disinterested at his offer. “no thanks. i think it’ll be easy enough. it’s not like i’m decorating it anyway.”

“oh, boo.” but gojo doesn’t insist on it any further. he actually falls strangely quiet, which causes megumi to glance at him curiously.

his teacher looks.. distraught. it’s hard to actually tell, but he seems to be looking at the floor, maybe lost in thought. before megumi can say anything, gojo’s expression changes and he starts talking again.

“you’re, uh, with the new teacher for tomorrow,” gojo then informs. he shoves his hands into his pockets and kicks at the floor absentmindedly. (he’s fidgeting. subtly.) “it’ll just be you two, i think, on a small mission. so they can get used to actually working with students on field. it’ll be good for the both of you.”

megumi nods. he tilts his head afterward. “you can say their name, you know. it won’t kill you,” he says a bit pointedly, “and they’re not technically new anymore. it has been a few weeks now since they’ve joined the school.”

“right, right.” megumi’s face scrunches up as gojo’s hand comes down to ruffle his hair gently. (a habit that has not died since his younger days.) “whatever you say, megumi.”

despite your minimal interactions and his rather closed off demeanor, megumi is actually one of your favorite students. (and yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have favorites, but oh well.)

your mission with megumi, or rather, the mission you’ve been assigned to supervise the student on, is rather simple.

there’s been reports of a low grade curse roaming the premises of a supermarket neighboring a nearby cemetery, so megumi is to obviously exorcise it under your watch. the area has been closed off with a small veil. megumi had decided to check the parking lot first for any lingering traces, so here you are.

“i think we’re good here,” the teenager confirms as his demon dogs return to his feet, seemingly in the clear. you nod and let him lead the way towards the inside of the store.

as the two of you begin to walk down each aisle with one of the demon dogs trailing behind, megumi says your name in an inquisitive tone. “what do you think of gojo-sensei?”

the sudden question has you blinking in surprise. your eyes scan megumi as you both continue to trek down the aisle. “what makes you ask?”

“no reason.” he doesn’t meet your gaze.

you bite down on your lip in contemplation. you’re not sure what brings this question to mind for him, but you’re willing to indulge him for now. “well.. i think he’s.. alright.” you pause. “as a sorcerer, i admire his strength. though, i think a lot of people think that obviously.”

“and as a person?” megumi presses, turning to investigate the next aisle. he still doesn’t glance over to you, still preoccupied with searching for the curse.

(hell, for a teenager, he sure is perceptive.)

you choose your words carefully, thinking it over with a brief pause.

“i’ll admit, i don’t think i know him well enough to be sure. as a person, i think he’s.. self-centered and rude. sometimes, i see him act very carefree in a way. he’s.. obscure, i guess.” you clear your throat and reiterate, “but again, i don’t really... know him.”

you can see megumi go over your words silently. the quiet continues. the conversation seems to be dying, but it doesn’t matter when monstrous gurgling sounds up ahead.

a curse appears in front of you, the shelving of the aisles toppling over as it gargles some unintelligible roar. megumi doesn’t hesitate, using his technique to summon his demon dogs once more to swiftly engage in combat.

the fight is easily handled in three minutes top. (they weren’t kidding when they said it’d be easy.)

after the commotion has settled, you allow megumi to do one more check up around the store just in case. just as you are prepared to exit and bring down the veil, you decide it’s your turn to ask him now.

“and what about you, megumi?” you inquire lightly, giving one of the demon dogs a few head pats for their good work. “what exactly do you think of gojo?”

megumi hums.

“i agree with most of what you said actually,” he answers honestly, causing you to chuckle in amusement. the teenager tilts his head and finally looks at you. “but i also think he’s kind when he wants to be.”

his frontward honesty surprises you once more. this kid sure is something. you believe his words; he has no reason to lie to you, especially about gojo of all things. still, you poke at him teasingly, “really now?”

you don’t really expect him to answer, but then megumi says in a mumble so quiet that you nearly miss it.

“well, he did sort of raise me after all.”

“i just don’t think he likes me, shoko,” you puff out a sigh, watching as she puffs out smoke. “i’ve seen the way he is around other people, and he’s not like that with me.”

she’s on break right now, so you thought you could talk to her about a certain blindfolded sorcerer who’s been plaguing your thoughts.

it’s interesting to hear about the different sides of gojo satoru from your peers. from nanami, you’ve learned that he’s pretentious and troublesome. from megumi, that he can be caring in his own way. and shoko?

“he’s crazy.” the doctor waves her cigarette at you with a shrug of her shoulders. “but it beats me on why he doesn’t particularly like you.”

you groan, slouching in one of the chairs set up in the infirmary. “maybe i should’ve stayed in kyoto,” you mumble. it’s more of a joke than anything; your.. weird terms with gojo isn’t enough to actually deter you.

but shoko puts the cigarette back to her lips and tilts her head. “want me to ask him about it?”

you straighten your posture abruptly and look at her. “what? you don’t have to. he might think i asked you to or something.”

she shrugs again. “your call.”

your brows furrow. “maybe we just got off on the wrong foot somehow. even though all i did was shake his hand.” you snort. “maybe i can get him something to break the ice. what does he like?”

shoko doesn’t even hesitate. “sweets. he likes his sweets.”

oh. oh, okay! you blink and nod. who would’ve thought? the strongest sorcerer in the world likes sweets. “i can handle sweets.”

you, in fact, cannot handle sweets.

why are there so many? you’re at a local bakery staring at the rows and rows of pastries they have on display, looking as if you’re trying the decipher the world’s hardest math problem.

shoko never specified what kind of sweets he liked during your conversation with her a couple days ago. cake? ice cream? cookies? you might as well buy the whole damn store at this point with your luck. the last thing you want is to buy him something he won’t actually eat.

“oh, fuck it,” you mutter and finally decide on a small piece of cake. it happens to be your favorite kind of cake, but oh well. if he doesn’t like it, he doesn’t like it! it’s the thought that matters anyway, right?

as you exit the shop with your newly acquired dessert, you try to devise a way to give it to him. do you just.. hand it to him? or maybe it’ll be better to leave it in his office. or have shoko give it to him!

ughh, who knew how hard it’d be to give a man a cake? okay, okay. you’ll simply give it to him in person since he’ll know it’s directly from you. problem solved.

well, actually, problem is not solved. how are you supposed to give the cake to gojo in person when you have absolutely no clue where he is right now? after returning to the school, he’s no where to be found, so you eventually turn to yaga for help.

“he’s on a mission where??”

you stare at yaga with wide eyes as he names some city so far away you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to find an affordable ride to get you there in a reasonable amount of time.

“oh, alright,” you say, feeling a little disappointed. the cake suddenly feels a little too big and heavy in your hands.

the principal’s gaze flickers down to your little intended treat for his former student. “these kinds of missions are no trouble for satoru. i’m sure he’ll be back soon, so you can leave that in his office.”

you brighten up at that and nod. “thank you, yaga.” you then dismiss yourself with a polite bow after he informs you where gojo’s office is exactly, and you start to make your way there.

it’s only a few minutes until you get there. you open the door and catch sight of a desk. it looks rather plain, which is understandable since it doesn’t seem like he uses this space often. (though, there is a chair that looks more expensive than your entire rent.)

either way, you walk inside and set the container down on the desk with a small sigh. hopefully the gesture is appreciated! if he really does have a sweet tooth like shoko says, you’re not sure why he’d turn it down. again, you can only hope.

you sigh again and turn to leave when the sound of the door creaking open sounds again. you freeze in place when it swings out fully, revealing the very man you were thinking about.

(yaga was not kidding when he said that gojo finishes his missions pretty fast.)

gojo perks up at the sight of you in his office, and even with his blindfold on, you can tell he’s got a surprised look on his face. “can i help you.. or do you have a reason on why you’re snooping around in my office?” he inquires, walking in.

while not evidently hostile, his appearance and words suddenly have you anxious. “oh, well, i-’’ you want to mentally smack yourself for fumbling over your words. “i’m sorry for intruding. i, uh, just wanted to leave you a little something.”

it’s only then does gojo look past you and makes a small noise. you can’t really decipher it, but you watch as he walks by you to open the small packaging to see the slice of cake meant for him.

and when he makes a small noise again, you can tell it’s one of delight. “you got me.. cake?” he asks, looking to you again questioningly.

“i did,” you clarify with a small nod, summoning a small smile and rubbing the back of your neck a bit sheepishly, “i didn’t know what kind of sweet you would like, so i just ended up choosing my favorite cake. um, i really hope you don’t mind the flavor, but if you don’t you really don’t have to eat it so-”

“kikufuku.”

you stare at him, confused. “what?”

“kikufuku,” satoru reiterates, and it’s his turn to smile. (it nearly catches you off guard because although very small, it’s pretty.) “s’my favorite. or.. one of my favorite sweets. crepes are good too.”

his newfound friendliness has you smiling a bit more evidently, pleased that this interaction is your most pleasant one with him so far in the weeks you’ve been here. “oh, okay,” you chuckle, “noted.”

gojo opens the container and unwraps the plastic fork that had came with it. he takes a bite of the cake and hums in approval. “can see why it’s your favorite. it’s not bad.”

your face lightens up at that. “oh, i’m glad.”

he hums, popping another slice of cake into his mouth. “any particular reason on why you’ve decided to give me cake, if i may ask?”

you falter once more, now nervous in telling that you’re hoping to.. resolve this one-sided tension with you. ultimately, you decide to be straightforward, inhaling deeply and looking at him. (well, his blindfold.)

“well, i’m not an idiot, gojo. you haven’t exactly been.. friendly to me. i’m not trying to win you over or anything, but if we’re going to work together with the first year students, consider this a gift for a truce. or um, a peace offering so we can act somewhat decent with each other.”

the white-haired sorcerer falls silent at your confrontation. you’re half expecting him to brush you off and walk out of the room entirely. especially since he seems to have stiffen up (similarly to the way when you first met, you had noticed).

he seems to contemplate for a bit. you don’t know where he’s looking at; the floor, the cake in his hands, you? it’s suddenly nerve-wracking.

“you’re right,” he finally speaks up, “i.. i’m sorry for my previous behavior towards you. can we start over?” he places the cake aside and walks back over to you to hold out his hand.

“gojo satoru.”

your eyes flicker to his blindfold to his hand, then back to where his eyes are hidden underneath. the rumored powerful and breaktaking six eyes concealed from your ever so curious sight.

against your better judgment, you repeat your name and take his hand.

“it’s nice to meet you, gojo.”

your new relationship with gojo is steadily becoming better. he’s no longer curt with you, and actually engages in conversations even with no other people around.

though, you can’t help but feel like he’d avoiding looking at you for some reason. which is pretty far off since you can’t technically see where he’s looking, but it’s a hunch you have nonetheless.

but hey, it’s progress, progress that you’re somewhat happy about.

like now, as satoru leans over your shoulder to peer at the clipboard in your hands. you’ve just finished wrapping up a lesson with the soon-to-be second years out on the field.

“ooh, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow, teach?” he pries.

“assistant teach,” you remind him teasingly, going over the contents of the clipboard. “more sparring. oh, and the registration for that new first year.”

“the one from the countryside?” gojo hums.

you nod. “yep. a.. kugasaki nobara. we won’t actually get to meet her, but arrangements for her arrival are getting finalized.”

“oh, boo. s’just more paperwork,” the sorcerer beside you whines, kicking at the grass.

“at least megumi isn’t the only one now,” you point out and finally turn to him.

just as you expected, satoru glances away to look at panda and toge finishing up. you squint at him narrowly but don’t comment on it.

“that’s true. not like that kid cares anyway, but it’ll be good for him,” gojo agrees airily, shoving his hands into his pockets.

you eye him. “hey, gojo?”

“yeah?” his head remains turned to the students. (further proving your point! you feel like you’re collecting evidence here; the gojo satoru cannot look at you in the eye!)

you hesitate. “wanna grab some kikufuku?”

he perks up at that. (like a puppy, really. it almost makes you laugh.) “mm, whatever happened to not trying to win me over with sweets?” he teases.

you laugh at that then, shaking your head in soft denial. “no- that’s not what i-”

“well, you did said kikufuku.." satoru interrupts you with a dramatic sigh and heave of his shoulders, “so how could i ever possibly resist?”

satoru doesn’t dare to look down at you.

“care to join me?”

but you smile up at him cheekily, and he hates the way the sunlight is hitting your features just right. it looks like the color of your eyes is glistening.

you’re just.. lying down on the grass of one of the training fields, admiring the drifting formations of white clouds on the blue canvas that is the sky.

satoru keeps telling himself that shouldn’t be doing this. his first mistake was accepting your cake. allowing himself to get closer to you. but when you look at him like that, he feels like he can do anything. which is odd, becaues really, he can do anything. it goes without saying as his status as the strongest.

but with you, it’s starting to feel a bit different.

when he doesn’t give you an immediate answer, you tilt your head and continue to blink up at him. “you can see the sky even with your blindfold on, right?”

he snorts. “yeah, i can.”

you pat the space on the grass next to you welcomingly, a beckoning that he just can’t resist again. “well, come on and join me,” you persist.

he hesitates, shifting his weight on his legs for a moment. against his better judgement, he joins you. it’s surprisingly comfortable, he finds, as he kicks out his legs and sighs.

it’s a comfortable silence that it’s almost startling. how easy it is just to be around you. (which is the exact reason why he had been avoiding you in the start, in fear of slipping up around you. he still might.)

“you get headaches, right? if you don’t cover your eyes.”

he chuckles at your question. “yeah.” it’s a half truth, half lie. he does get headaches, but for another reason now. you can’t get out of his head. (he’s got a suspicious feeling it’s because the soulmate bond is incomplete. but again, that’s just a theory of his.)

“‘m’sorry. that sucks.” you pout subconscously, still looking up at the sky to admire it.

he scoffs fondly, clapsing his hands over his stomach. “it’s no biggie. you think headaches can take down gojo satoru?”

“hey now, tough guy. they can take down me sometimes.”

(he’d fight off headaches from you if he could.) his heart is thudding against his ribcage, warning him. but he doesn’t heed the warning, and continues to lay down with you on the grass.

it’s a nice feeling. he doesn’t feel like the greatest sorcerer in the world with his colleague. it feels like he’s just satoru, pointing out the different shapes and animals you can spot in the sky with his soulmate.

“hey, that one looks like you!”

“hah?!”

“i’m guessing you and gojo-sensei are getting along now,” megumi bluntly comments.

it catches you off guard slightly, and you can’t help but laugh. (of course he had noticed how the both of you interacted from the beginning.) “oh, uh, yeah.”

and as you watch satoru go down the steps of the stairs to head over to you both whilst waving an arm with much more enthusiam than needed, you can’t help but smile.

“yeah, we are.”

this is a mistake. he shouldn’t be doing this.

but satoru can’t help but be so selfish, selfish in indulging in your looks, in your scarce touches. when you had confronted him with your peace offering as you had so called it, he had given in.

and now he’s spending more time with you. be it after lessons with the students, on random days where you have nothing to do, during weekends when there’s no authorities to bother him—he can’t help it.

was it the bond wanting to be complete? you were still unaware of his true identity, of what he could possibly mean to you, so why does he feel like he needs to be so close? he gets antsy at times when you’re not in his sight. it’s starting to affect him.

the soulmate bond, or lack of it—that has to be the only explanation for it. because he knows that you’re his soulmate, he’s subconsciously drawn to you and your presence. (it’s definitely not because he likes the way you smile, or laugh, or-)

fuck.

after a relatively tough mission, you’re obviously sent to see shoko. you’re not fatally harmed, maybe a scratch here and there. and okay, maybe a gash on your shoulder..

it had been enough to sort of knock you off your feet, but you’re fine. totally. exorcising a semi grade two curse at 1 a.m. in the morning was no biggie at this point.

once she’s finished tending to your wound, she dusts off her hands and places them on her hips. “you’re all set.”

you smile gratefully. “thanks, sho. can always count you to patch me up.”

she snorts. “well, it is my job.”

gojo suddenly appears right next to the table and you yelp, startled by his teleportation. shoko, on the other hand, looks unfazed, as if she’s used to this.

“gojo!” you blink, your voice taking a scolding tone soon after, “geez, you scared me! what’re you still doing awake??”

the blindfolded man falters, looking apologetic. “sorry. heard you got back from your mission.” he sounds worried, but before he can voice his concern, shoko rolls her eyes.

“they’ll be fine,” she says.

gojo’s shoulders finally drop down and he plays off his previous display of concern with a laugh. “ahaha, yeahhh, i knew that,” he scoffs with a wave of his hand, “i can’t bless you two with my presence?”

shoko gives him a displeased look before she turns around to tidy up her tools. you chuckle at her annoyance. “thanks for checking up on me, satoru,” you say sincerely. your eyes go over his appearance; he’s dressed more casually: a pair of dark slacks and shirt that expose his collarbones. not that you’re.. particularly looking.

but his shoulders seem tense again at your words and he hums quietly. (huh, strange. at least he’s not refusing to look at you anymore, you think.)

“well, i say this calls for a little celebration,” satoru suddenly purrs in delight, waving his hands in the air.

“celebration? for me getting kinda beat up?” you blow a raspberry at him, only for him to blow one at you right back. even though you had done it first, you can’t help but giggle at his childish antics.

he grins at that, then shakes his head. “heyy, i heard you beat up a semi grade two curse!” he says, “i think that does call for a celebration, does it not?”

you stare at him, unsure on whether he’s joking or not. wait, how did he even know that? well, maybe he had gone through the mission reports and assignments. still, you’re surprised that he knows. “you can wipe those out in less than a minute, gojo,” you point out with a raised brow, “don’t try and humor me.”

his grin lessens. “well, yeah, s’kinda easy for me, but i think that goes without saying. you’re telling me don’t wanna celebrate an accomplishment of yours?”

you look to shoko who is almost finished with cleaning up. she just shrugs. you look back to satoru and shrug yourself whilst rolling your eyes. “alright, we can celebrate.”

gojo fist bumps the air. and here you are again, giggling at him.

eventually, when he leads you out of the infirmary and to the teachers’ lounge. he digs through one of the fridges and hands you a bottle of what seems to be alcohol.

“i didn’t even know this was allowed here,” you mumble, settling down on what of the high chairs near the counter. you wiggle in your seat to get comfortable as gojo takes the one next to you.

you offer it to him but he shakes his head, nose scrunching up a little. “i don’t drink.”

“wasn’t this your idea?” you blink. “suit yourself, more for me.” you shrug and open the bottle to pour yourself a glass. and another. and another. and then another.

(you don’t know what particularly drives you to keep drinking as you talk with him, but perhaps it’s the way you know that satoru’s eyes are lingering just underneath the blindfold. you can practically feel his stare.)

and gojo watches you gradually drink yourself to being mildly drunk.

“okay, no more for you,” he laughs as he takes the bottle away from you and holding it above your head when you try to reach for it.

“awh, man.” you pout and rest your head on your arms on the table, looking at him the best you can. “you meanie. you got me drunk on purpose. give it back.”

he snickers, amused and endeared by your drunk antics as he pushes the bottle aside. “sorry. you’ll thank me later, pretty.”

pretty. he’s never called you that before. you wanna hear him say it again. (amongst some other things.)

“pretty.. you’re pretty. i bet your eyes are pretty too,” you say into your sleeve, your other hand reaching out to his blindfold, “everyone else says they’re v’ry pretty.”

he leans back to avoid your hand, heart pounding in his chest a little too loud for his liking. he wonders if you can hear it. “sure. i guess they are,” he says softly with a small chuckle.

“i wonder who my soulmate is,” you then mumble out. maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s your incoherent slurring, but you sound.. sad.

before he can dwell on it, you’re slurring out another question that has come to your head.

“d’you have a soulmate?”

satoru’s eyes widen under the blindfold. he knows that you’re drunk. that you’re just saying things. but your hazy eyes stare up at him with a glint that makes his heart lurch.

and you won’t remember a thing in the morning, right?

before he can answer, you’re out like a light.

you wake up in the morning with a splitting headache.

with a groan, you sit up in what seems to be a bed that seems way to be to be your own, legs kicking the sheets that had been draped over you in alarm.

you have no idea where you are, but there’s a glass of water along with some painkillers on the nightstand beside you, which you down gratefully. there’s also the smell of food coming from outside the room.

you can piece two and two together that you’re probably in the home of someone you know.. your brain racks for information of what had happened last night but it’s only causing it to ache even more.

gojo.

you shake your head and make your way to what seems to be the bathroom to tidy yourself up. you notice that your’re still clad in your clothes of last night, so gojo had done the courtesy of tucking you in.

after you’re done, you take a deep breath and head outside.

you navigate your way down the hallway and follow the smell of food. as you turn the corner, you catch the sight of satoru in the kitchen. not that you doubted that the greatest sorcerer could cook, but for some reason, he looks so domestic.

he’s simply wearing sweats and a loose fitting shirt, your back turned to you as he tends to the stove, but the mere sight of it has your heart leaping into your throat. you have a feeling that it’s a sight meant for you, for you to see.

you don’t no how long you stand there, but suddenly a laugh rings through the kitchen from satoru teasingly. “take a picture, sweetheart, it’ll last longer.”

you yelp, embarrassed. (sweetheart? you try not to think about it, but you hate the way it makes your heart leap again. he’s just.. messing with you.) “erm.. sorry. good morning, gojo.” you approach the kitchen and take a seat at the counter.

when he finally turns to you, he’s not wearing his usual black blindfold, but instead what seems to be white bandages. you haven’t seen it on him before, but you don’t comment on it though.

he says good morning back before serving you some food, which you thank him for gratefully. “thank you for the painkillers too. i didn’t do anything embarrassing last night, did i?” you inquire, half jokingly.

you try to remember what had happened last night, but your memories are still a bit hazy. all you can recall is talking with him about things and staring at him. (you’re not going to tell him that though.)

“nah,” he waves off, “just told me your darkest secrets, s'all.”

you straighten up. “what?”

“kidding, kidding!” he snickers.

you groan and drag your plate to you. “i didn’t know you could cook.”

satoru looks mildly offended, emitting a dramatic gasp as he waves the spatula at you in a petulant manner. “hey now, i’m no expert. but i can at least make some sort of breakfast.”

(he totally did not look up a tutorial on how to cook for you. definitely not. but he’s a natural at everything, so at least his naturally gifted skill is in his favor this time.)

“thank you, gojo.” a smile tugs at the edges of your mouth.

“satoru.”

“what?”

“c’mon, you’re literally eating breakfast in my kitchen,” he laughs, sliding a mug of coffee (probably with extra cream and sugar because it’s gojo) towards you across the counter. “satoru’s fine.”

you test the name on your tongue, paying little attention to the way it makes the man before you stiffen up as you grab the coffee. “satoru.. thanks, satoru.” you think you can get used to saying that.

(he does too.)

satoru turns away back to the stove. “you’re welcome.”

“hey satoru, what did you say what you wanted again? i’m thinking bubble tea but i dunno..”

he likes the way his name sounds from you.

“uh, satoru? satoru? helloo, earth to gojo satoru? satoru!”

oh.

fuck, he hadn’t realized he had spaced out. gojo lifts his head in a sudden motion, making a surprised noise. he smiles sheepishly. “what’s up?”

“you feeling alright, satoru?” you tilt your head.

keep saying his name.

“awhh, i’m feeling more than alright, sweetheart.” he shoots you a grin, liking the way your eyes reflect the café lights, giving it a warm hue. “i’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“you seem to be in a good mood lately,” megumi points out. ijichi, in the front see, looks at the two of them through the rear view in silent agreement.

(a lot of people have noticed actually.)

gojo pauses, halfway through unwrapping the plastic of a popsicle. it’s the same one he used to consume during his youth, but his taste really hasn’t changed after all this time. “oh?”

the teenager eyes him narrowly. “yeah.”

gojo merely hums and pops the icy treat into his mouth.

“heh, i guess i am.”

you can hear gojo and shoko’s voices coming from the infirmary, causing you to smile absentmindedly. you didn’t think you’d be enjoying their company this much in the recent months—especially satoru’s.

(strangely, it feels so natural to be around him, you can’t help but wonder if he feels the same. you try to write it off as spending so much time together for a while now, but you can’t lie when you say he doesn’t make the stomach churn with butterflies.)

you turn the corner and announce your presence to the two with a smile and wave. you catch sight of them when they glance over to you, noticing something different.

shoko is wearing her usual white coat with a cigarette in hand, but she’s got her hair tied up in a rare bun to keep any strands from her face.

but that’s not what’s different as your gaze strays to the man next to her, the familiar frame of gojo catching you a bit off guard.

he’s wearing his glasses.

you’ve never seen him wear anything but his blindfold.

how does he look even more breathtaking than without it? you can’t see his eyes still, no—it’s a deep, deep shade of blue that still blocks his gaze from anyone else. but it’s a more casual look, seeing as his hair isn’t being help up and a few strands fall down and you can see his sharp facial features a bit more and-

and then he’s gone.

you audibly make a sound of confusion and hurt, because one moment he’s there and the next he’s no where to be seen. he had vanished without a single world.

he’s fucking avoiding you again; the realization of it makes your throat close up. after all you had been through with satoru.

“what the fuck was that?”

shoko stares at the space gojo had just been standing, just as lost as you.

there’s a distance between the two of you again. it’s painstakingly familiar to when you had first met gojo and he had kept himself strictly professional with you.

and you don’t know why.

it’s back to the cold shoulder from him; you’re seeing him less and less around campus, and those times where you did hang out off duty are practically a thing of the past now.

satoru is going to be the death of you one day, you’re sure of it.

and you and satoru aren’t even.. a thing.

then again, you’re not even sure what you are. you’re friends, yes, that’s much more than clear, but why does it feel so much more intimate than that despite the fact that the two of you have never even done anything?

however.. a part of you knows that you want more. more of those days lying in the grass with him, more of those mornings eating breakfast with him in his home, more of those afternoon café runs, more of everything with satoru.

is that why does it hurts so much now that he’s pushed you away again?

satoru is praying that you’re not in there with shoko as he approaches the infirmary a week later. she had called him over, and though he could’ve easily refused, he found himself obliging anyway.

“hey, what was that the other day?”

shoko is blunt and straight to the point once he arrived, striking him with a petulant and expectant gaze with her tired eyes.

gojo blinks innocently, tilting his head at shoko. “what was what?”

shoko then rolls her eyes. “you know what i’m talking about. what was that. you just- walked out like they we’re going to kill you or something.”

that’s the thing. you just might.

the white-haired man frowns and continues to feign innocence. he’s starting to wonder why he bothered coming here. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

his avoidance causes shoko to frown as well and she crosses her arms. “you’re doing the same thing that you did with them when they first joined here.”

when he doesn’t say anything, she continues, “avoiding them, pushing them away. i thought you didn’t have any problems with them. at this point, make up your mind because you’re just toying with their feelings and it’s not going to-”

“we’re soulmates,” satoru blurts out.

shoko is cut off, staring at him all wide-eyed for once. “you’re kidding.”

satoru falters. “i’m not. s’why i always wear the blindfold. and that’s why i.. i ran that night. just my glasses was too risky.”

what if he had angled his head the wrong way, what if you saw his eyes, what if you finally realized that you were fated to be together at the whims of the universe? he couldn’t do that to you.

“how long have you-”

“since we first met. i.. i could see it because of six eyes,” he explains, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t know why. i didn’t think i could have another one after-”

the two fall quiet at the mention of suguru, a heavy feeling hanging in the air between them.

“what are you going to do?” shoko asks quietly.

satoru sounds wrecked. “..i don’t know.”

“well.” shoko smushes her cigarette against the surface of the metal table. “you better do something before it’s too late.”

unfortunately, the higher ups have also noticed.

(the push and pull that has been going on between the pride of the gojo clan and a random transferred sorcerer from kyoto. nothing goes unseen by their tight hold on jujutsu society.)

and you are none the wiser when you’re an assigned a mission late so at night, at a secluded edge of tokyo. you would’ve questioned it, but after looking over the details, it seems easy enough since it was a low level curse.

ijichi drops you off near the location and bids you luck. the night is dark, with the shape of the moon only peaking out every now and then due to the clouds to offer minimum light, and then the veil is coming up.

it’s fine though, as you start walking to get this over with. the faster, the better.

what the fuck? the cursed energy here is much stronger than you had anticipated, almost as if it’s suffocating. now uneasy, you continue your search with more caution.

a low growl sounds from somewhere behind you, and you turn on heel to brace yourself in case the curse decides to catch you off guard with an unexpected attack.

your heart drops.

it’s a grade one curse.

something’s not right.

satoru can feel it. he can sense it in the air. something is lingering, a presence that makes even him feel uneasy, and he doesn’t know why. nothing makes him feel uneasy. but it’s a gut feeling, it’s the bond tugging and tugging and-

you.

something’s not right.

and then gojo is teleporting and finding ijichi in record time, giving the poor man a scare. gojo’s voice is on edge and leaves no room for argument as he demands the assistant director where he had driven you minutes prior. the veil still stands, undisturbed.

fuck, fuck, fuck- shoko was right. he should’ve done something before it was too late, because now it might actually be too late as he steps through the veil.

it’s too quiet for his liking, but the lingering silence only lasts for a few heartbeats before he hears you scream.

you’re going to die.

you don’t want to think that, but you’re definitely not going to make it out of this unscathed as you dodge the curse’s scarily accurate attacks, as if it knows where you’re going to move and land.

the curse screeches out something ugly, and you’re too stunned to react in time as one of its malformed limbs swings down with a speed that you can’t comprehend.

your throat cries for help even as the air out of your lungs, but then there’s the sudden brilliant flash of red that blinds your vision.

satoru?

you can’t see and your body aches everywhere while the sounds of the curse fade out. it’s replaced by the sound of someone speaking frantically. it is satoru as he crouches down at you, hands coming to lift you up gently. his infinity is off. “hey, hey it’s me,” he voices, “it’s me, sweetheart.”

satoru, it’s satoru. satoru is here.

you emit a sigh of relief, cloudy vision gradually focusing. you try and focus it on satoru, tracing over his features repeatedly, trying to engrave it into your memory.

“shit. those damn higher ups,” gojo grits his teeth into an angered scowl. the higher ups? were they behind this? you don’t know, but you know that you’ve ever seen him this furious before. “i am going to rip those old geezers apart limb from li-”

“satoru, we need to head back.”

he looks dazed, tufts of snowy hair now hanging a bit loosely over his blindfold compared to when it’s normally pushed upright. he even sounds dazed, the great gojo satoru, when he says, “yeah. yeah, okay.”

he’s holding on to you tight and suddenly everything seems to get blurry for less than a second before you blink. you realize he’s teleported you both not to the school, not to shoko’s infirmary, but to his penthouse.

the interior is at least familiar: white walls, a little messy, a couple of decorations, and—

“my place,” he clarifies, as if he had read your thoughts. he sets you down on his couch, uncaring if you’re staining the color of the cushions. but he doesn’t let go, hands still cradling your form so tight that you don’t know if you’re still shaking or that he is.

“are you okay?” you utter out weakly and scan him for any injuries while clutching at his arms, which is ridiculous because he’s untouchable. but you’re not in the right mind right now, and you have a feeling he isn’t either.

“i should be the one asking you that,” he retorts, and you also have the feeling he’s doing the same thing with you with the help of his six eyes.

“i’m alright,” you try to reassure him with a small shake of your head. it only aids you in wincing, but the pain is the last thing on your mind. especially with him here. “it’s fine.”

“it’s not fine,” he argues, his hold tightening even more on you, if that was even possible. is that a slight tremor in his voice? “you almost died.”

“and why do you care?” it’s not a malicious question from you. it’s more of confusion, of genuine. after all you’ve been through with satoru, you’re not sure where he stands. what he feels.

he seems startled by your question, like he can’t believe you could ask such a thing. “of course i care! why-”

you clench your fists in your lap, eyes tracing over his face repeatedly. “i don’t know what you want anymore from me, satoru! you’re not- you’re not telling me the truth.”

“i didn’t want to hurt you,” he tells you hoarsely. god, you wish you could see what he’s thinking. what’s going on in that head of his.

“you did hurt me.”

gojo trembles. “i know.”

“you seem to know a lot of things.” your voice sounds tired. your hand goes to rest on his chest, where you can faintly feel his heartbeat underneath. (oh, to be the only one who can touch gojo satoru like this.) “what are you hiding from me?”

“i can’t hide anything from you.” he draws a slow intake of breath. he then whispers,

“but how am i supposed to tell you that we’re soulmates?”

your heart skips a beat.

gojo satoru is your soulmate?

astonished, you now stare at him with wide eyes. “why- why didn’t you tell me??” you ask, voice cracking. to think, all this time, your soulmate had been right there, right beside you, right in front of you.

then it all clicks. his off-standish behavior, his reluctant interactions, his avoidance. his blindfold. he didn’t want you to see his eyes.

he’s known all this time somehow—and oh, oh. his six eyes. your lips part in realization as you stare hard, as if you could see his damned eyes beneath the cloth that hides you from the truth.

“i thought that if you knew that we were soulmates, you’d-” satoru shakes his head. “something always happens to the people i love.” he hesitates, “you still have a chance. you can find someone else.”

“what if i don’t want someone else??” you say out softly in protest, gripping the lapels of his uniform.

gojo shakes his head again. despite this, he doesn’t let you go. like he can’t, like he doesn’t want to. “we’re not bonded yet,” he says your name shakily, “please.”

still gripping the collar of his uniform, you tug him closer to you desperately. it’s so clear, so obvious that he wanted this.

“satoru, have you thought about what i wanted?” you breathe out, feeling tears well up in your eyes, “that maybe, there’s a chance that i want to take the risk? that i want to be bonded to you?”

your eyes flicker down to his lips momentarily. “that i want you too?”

satoru’s breath stutters.

“you haven’t seen my eyes.”

you cup satoru’s face in your hands, swiping your thumb under the space where his eye is hidden with a fierce tenderness that makes him listen.

“satoru, i didn’t need to see your eyes to fall in love with you.”

your confession has him stilling.

(all the times he had stiffened up in your presence, he had been falling for you, bit by bit. you know that now.)

his hand comes to cover yours, the one that’s still resting on his cheek, fingers smoothing over your knuckles. and then his hand continues to go up, up, up, and-

he tugs the blindfold up and over his head, revealing his eyes to you at last.

his eyes are gorgeous, a blue that seems to spill into your vision and take over your senses. a blue that you can get lost in, a blue that reminds you of the summer sky, a blue that tethers your soul to his, and you both can feel it.

the bond between you is so electrifying that you nearly forget how to breathe.

and then satoru is surging forward, closer, even closer, until your breath is his and you forget how to breathe for a whole different reason entirely.

he’s kissing you.

he kisses you like you might disappear right before him, his head angling into yours to capture your lips with a force that makes your world spin.

and you return it tenfold, one hand still cradling his face while the other sneaks to dig its fingers into his undercut, and he’s making a noise into your mouth with fervor.

you’re all too aware of his heat against you, the frantic touches he’s now giving into as he draws you closer. the surface of the sofa dissipates into nothingness and then-

suddenly he’s teleporting you both again—or maybe he’s kissing you dizzy. but you realize you’re now in space that’s not overly familiar with you, but you can tell it’s most likely his bedroom based off of the feel of the lush satin sheets underneath you.

less than an hour ago you were fighting for your life, and now you’re fighting for your life on gojo satoru’s bed.

“satoru, s’toru, wait-” you’re gasping for air, for something as he engulfs you with his presence. he’s everywhere all at once, and it feels as if the bond is intensifying everything he’s doing to you.

“nuh uh. think we’ve both waited long enough for this, baby,” he gasps against your lips, like it’s impossible to be separated from you again, “don’t know how much i wanted this, wanted you. drove me crazy.”

his words makes your head all fuzzy. you don’t even know if it’s the bond anymore, or just the way he makes you feel. maybe even both. your lungs feeling like they’re burning, but even then, you manage to get out,

“you have me, ‘toru, you have me.”

“yeah?” when he pulls back, it’s not even a few inches, his nose brushing against yours. his alluring eyes glimmer in the darkness of the room, and you’re almost so mad that you feel like kissing him again because he’s kept them from you for so long.

your hands hook over his neck again. when your fingers run over his undercut again, you can actually feel him shiver, causing you to giggle in delight. “yeah, ‘toru.”

“yeah, pretty,” he sighs out and he’s losing himself in everything that is you once more so willingly. your eyes, your very being, compels him to give you everything, so he does. “y’have me too. all of me.”

his confession rings through your ears before he’s kissing you again, kissing you breathless. it’s a blur on what happens next; feverish touches and passionate symphonies, but one thing’s for sure,

the magnetic glow of his eyes in the dark of that night is something that you’ll never forget.

as your stir amongst the tousled bedsheets, you can feel the warmth of a certain someone creeping over you, like a cozy cat searching for cuddles.

your eyes peer open to meet the blurry sight of the ceiling, along with the sight of messy white hair tickling your chin.

“good morning to you, sweetheart,” a voice says cheekily, followed by cascading kisses down your jawline, prompting you to giggle softly.

you watch sunlight spill over into the bedroom, engulfing the man above you in an angelic glow as he finally pulls back to look down at you.

so maybe you didn’t fall in love at first sight with gojo satoru.

that’s okay.

cause as you stare up into your soulmate’s pretty ceruleans in the morning light, you think you can fall in love with him like this a little more.

BONUS!

“you owe me.”

nanami drags a hand over his face as he digs into his pocket for his wallet. “this is the first and last time i make a bet with you,” he grumbles.

shoko merely smirks. “you have such little faith in gojo.”

“bet or not, can we go back to before they were together?” nanami looks like he’s close to investing in a pair of one of gojo’s glasses that can block any normal person’s vision.

satoru is clinging onto you like a sloth.

“babyyyyy,” your boyfriend whines, resting his chin on your shoulder with his arms wrapped around your torso. you can’t help but giggle, endeared by his clinginess. (he had claimed it was to make up for the way he had acted in the past and for lost time.)

he’s like another part of you now. not that you mind. being his soulmate is everything and more—from the tender touches to the passionate ones, to the talks of everything: to the mundane to the serious. after all, your soul is his, and his soul is yours.

(and then his hands are sneaking off to places they shouldn’t be.)

“‘toru, not here!”

nanami heaves out another sigh as his hand comes to pinch the bridge of his nose. “is it too late to quit being a sorcerer again?”

TAGLIST : @spn-obession , @deepestartisanhumanoidshark , @scarasw1f3 , @kalopsia-flaneur , @90s-belladonna , @peachipeachy , @chrystinaamanda , @kalulakunundrum , @hunnyheavenn , @dekusdante , @dontmindmelove , @cherries-lostgirls , @rv19 , @etherealstarlightqueen

+ a/n: this fic ended up being way no longer than i expected omg.. but thanks to all who asked to be on the taglist !! some didnt work so im sorry about that </3

like this fic? feel free to go ahead and check out my other works here! -> masterlist

[luxaofhesperides]

Soulmate AU: First Words + End of the World ; requested by @justwannabecat!

Duke has long since accepted that he doesn’t have great luck. Most things in his life tend to go wrong very quickly, or complicate situations he was already struggling in (see: being a meta and getting his powers in the middle of a fight). Having an incomprehensible soulmark is an unpleasant discovery on the morning of his nineteenth birthday, but not entirely unexpected.

He had been hoping for something simple, a common one like hi it’s nice to meet you or sorry, didn’t mean to bump into you.

What Duke gets instead isn’t even words. 

Scrawled across his left hipbone is a string of symbols glowing a faint green. They’re not in a language he recognizes, and the symbols seem to move, shifting ever so slightly so they look different every time he blinks.

“Well,” he says after a solid five minutes of staring into the mirror, unable to rip his eyes off his soulmate’s words, “I hope theirs looks nicer than mine.”

He spends his birthday in a bit of a daze, enjoying time spent with the Waynes and his friends. It’s hard to be fully present when he’s all too aware of the soreness on his hipbone flaring up each time he moves. It’s hard to keep his mind off of it, wanting nothing more than to search for answers, unravel the mystery of his soulmate’s first words.

“Something on your mind?” Jason asks, as the attention shifts off of him for a brief moment as Harper and Cullen get ready to leave and everyone rushes to give their goodbyes,

Duke shrugs, carefully keeping his hands still so they don’t drift to where his soulmark is hidden beneath his clothes. “Yeah. Nothing you need to worry about, though.”

Jason looks him over critically, then nods. 

Duke resigns himself to being investigated by the rest of the Bats. If he’s off enough that Jason had to comment on it, then that means everyone’s noticed and are trying to figure out what’s happened. They’re not going to ask him, because they think he needs space to work through whatever’s got him so distracted, but they’re also not going to just do nothing. 

This won’t be the first time they’ve done this. Duke expects it. Frankly, it would be stranger and much more concerning if they didn’t try to dig up all his secrets the moment they caught wind of him hiding something.

He’ll tell them about getting his soulmark soon. Soulmarks can appear on any birthday between the ages of thirteen to twenty five; they might suspect he got his, but they won’t be able to confirm.

For now, Duke can keep his soulmate’s first words (whatever that gibberish means) to himself.

He makes the decision then and there, as his birthday party winds down, to tell them in a week.

And because his luck is abysmal, a world ending threat hits five days later and suddenly there is no time for soulmarks and first words.

Duke is the last to arrive at the Fortress of Solitude, hitching a ride from Superboy to get there. The biting cold and the harsh winds keep the place far from the reaches of the rest of humanity, surrounded by nothing but deadly white. 

Desolate as the landscape is, it’s still in better shape than the rest of the world.

Things would be better if it was alien invaders. It would be more bearable if some sort of cosmic colossus tried to eat their solar system. At least then there would be something physical that they could fight.

Instead, the world is breaking apart, the sky and earth both fracturing to reveal glowing green faultlines. Timelines are getting mixed up and muddled; just yesterday, Duke had to evacuate a building that had been demolished forty years ago, then stop a gang leader who wouldn’t be born for another eight years from taking over a neighborhood block and holding the residents hostage. Strange creatures are appearing out of nowhere, crawling out of shadows and tide pools and from beneath the roots of trees, all horrible, monstrous things that go after people with teeth and claws. 

The Flashes and the rest of the speedsters are nowhere to be found. The last time anyone get communication from them, it had been Impulse sending Red Robin a glitchy, barely audible video chat saying something along the lines of “trying to fix—unstable—keep us here—never been alive before.” All things that are very concerning to hear, made worse by the fact that no one had been able to contact them at all. 

The quiet loneliness of the Fortress of Solitude is a welcome change from the constant screaming, death, and destruction that’s taken over Gotham as well as the rest of the world. Last he heard, even Justice League China was at the end of their rope. 

“In here,” Superboy instructs, guiding Duke through the halls. There’s no time to look around at Superman’s secret base. All his focus is stuck on staying conscious for another few hours to see if this gathering of heroes is able to find a solution to the world breaking apart.

Batman stands besides Superman. Both nod at Duke when he enters the room. Wonder Woman is watching over John Constantine as he writes something on the floor, muttering under his breath. The rest of the Justice League lean against each other, visibly exhausted as they wait for Constantine to finish up what he’s doing. A few other heroes are here too, and Duke goes to join them where they lean against a wall, fighting to keep their eyes open.

“Hey,” he greets, voice low. “Hanging in there?”

Wonder Girl sighs. “Somehow. I don’t know how much longer we can do this. There’s just too much…”

“We’ll get through this. I mean, even without us out there, plenty of civilians have formed rescue and relief groups to help with keeping things under control,” Speedy says, gently knocking her arm against Wonder Girl’s. “We just gotta keep going. No giving up.”

“What’s this plan, anyways? I just heard that they needed me here to some attempt to fix things.”

“Well, without the speedsters, you’re kind of the only one who can help with time and power related stuff,” Speedy says.

“That’s definitely a stretch. My powers don’t really have anything to do with time. It’s all just light and shadow.”

Speedy shrugs. “Well, you’re here, aren’t you? Too late to complain about it now.”

Duke doesn’t get a chance to say anything else when a loud clap catches his attention. The entire room goes still and silent as Constantine stands up and surveys the circle and symbols he’s written, taking up an entire corner of the large room. 

“Alright,” he says. “Time to get started. Remember, let me do the talking. If you have to speak, it’s only to back me up or when a question is directed to you.”

Batman nods to the other Justice Leaguers, and suddenly everyone is falling into formation behind Constantine. Duke hurries to join them with Wonder Girl and Speedy, taking a place on the edge of the group where he’s a little closer to the circle than the others. 

Constantine begins chanting. His voice is steady though none of the sounds make any sense, refusing to form themselves into recognizable words, and the air the in the room feels heavier. The chalk circle glows a blinding white and Duke can see magic swirling through the air, his power kicking in the let him watch as reality tears and a glowing star in the shape of a boy comes out of it.

Duke blinks, forcing his power down. The hypnotic swirls of magic fade from sight, but the boy still glows, bright and terrible as he floats above the circle and surveys them all. A crown engulfed in blue flame hovers above his head and the fabric of the cosmos is draped over his shoulders as a cape. 

Just from presence alone, Duke can tell that this figure is now the strongest existence in this universe. He hopes this boy king is kind; no one, not even Superman, would be able to beat him in a fight.

The boy king opens his mouth and speaks, but it’s not words than comes out. A strange static like sound emerges, but light and almost melodic. 

His left hipbone burns.

Duke gasps, hand flying down to it, and the boy king’s gaze snaps to meet his.

The world stands still. No one moves. No one dares to breathe.

And then the boy king drops to the floor and walks out of the circle.

“I thought you said that would hold him!” Batman hisses at Constantine, who is looking more and more distressed.

“It was supposed to! I wrote it specifically to hold the King of the Infinite Realms!”

The boy king glances at Constantine. This time, when he speaks, it’s in smooth English. “Did you name the king in your circle?”

“Yeah, I named Pariah Dark… Bloody hell, you ain’t him, are ya?”

“No,” the boy king smiles, “I’m Phantom.”

The cape and crown fade away, and suddenly it’s not an all powerful, terrifying king standing before them, but a young man with white hair and green eyes who looks Duke’s age. Like he could be any other new generation hero in the room. 

“Phantom,” Duke repeats lightly, just under his breath, but it makes Phantom look at him again.

He walks forward, ignoring the other heroes’ aborted attempts to stop him, coupled with Constantine’s frantic back off motion happening behind him. Phantom leaves the circle and the Justice Leaguers behind to stand before Duke, a soft smile on his face.

“Hi,” he says softly, “I dreamed of you.”

“You—what?”

“I dreamed of you. I have for years now. To think that being summoned was what made us meet—” Phantom breaks off into a breathless laugh.

Duke swallows, then drops his had from where it had been pressed against his hip. “So we’re really—? You have my first words too?”

In the corner of his eye, he sees Batman stiffen up. Maybe he should have just told them the day after his birthday, but in Duke’s defense, this is the definition of extenuation circumstances. 

“First words?” Phantom repeats, “Is that… Do we have different soulmate connections?”

“I think so. Here, everyone gets the first words their soulmates say to them appearing somewhere on their body.”

Phantom’s gaze darts down to Duke’s hip, then back up. “Oh. I get dreams. Where I’m from, we dream of our soulmates, and the closer we get to meeting them, the more we remember the dreams.”

“And you dreamed of me.”

“I did.”

“As touching as this is,” Constantine interrupts, and Duke gets to watch as Phantom rolls his eyes, “We summoned you here for a reason. Our world is falling apart at the seams and we need someone powerful, from the Realms, to help us fix it.”

“Okay.”

“...What do you mean ‘okay’?”

“I’ll help,” Phantom says.

“Just like that? No deal to be made, no price to be paid?”

“Just like that. I’m not one for deals anyways. If I can help, then I will. But I do want to see what the problem is with my soulmate by my side, if you don’t mind.”

Batman steps in, fixing Duke with a steady gaze, a barely noticeable tilt of his head. “Signal?”

“Yeah I’ll go with him. Of course I will. The sooner the better, in fact, because everything��s gone to shit.” Duke turns to Phantom, taking hold of one of his hands. “It is really bad out there,” he warns, “If you need help—”

“I’ll ask for help from others in the Realms,” Phantom says. “No offense or anything, but if it’s really that bad, I doubt living mortals will be able to do much to fix things. It’s why I was summoned, right?”

“Right. Let’s get to it, then.”

There’s a flash of mischief in Phantom’s eyes, and cheeky grin stealing across his face for a moment, before he says, “Aye aye, captain!” and picks Duke up like he weighs nothing and flies up through the ceiling.

Duke is able to hear everyone’s surprised, panicked shouts before they’re outside the Fortress of Solitude and Phantom is flying them away. He only needs a few directions from Duke before he finds the first of the large fractures in the sky.

“Yikes,” is all he says, which is not a great thing to hear. “I think I know how to fix it, though. We’ll need to do a little investigating as to who, exactly, started messing around with reality, but once we find the source, it’ll be an easy fix.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all week.”

“Even better than meeting your soulmate?”

“I haven’t slept for more than four hours all week. Knowing there’s an end in sight beats everything else.”

Phantom laughs, throwing his head back and Duke can’t help but drink in the sight of him, so ethereal and bright and full of life. “Fair enough! Got any ideas as to where we should start?”

“I’ve got an entire crew of detective vigilantes,” Duke replies. He’s not taking any more chances. No more waiting to talk about important things; he messed up by keeping his soulmark to himself, so he needs to make sure everyone meets his soulmate before shit goes south again. 

“Let’s go find them, then!”

They take off again, soaring through the skies that are barely holding themselves together. 

The world is still ending, and every hero is being stretched thin, but held carefully in Phantom’s arms, racing head first into a solution, Duke can’t help but feel that everything’s going to be alright now. 

He’s had enough bad luck. Now, his soulmate with him, bearing the title of King with grace, things are finally starting to look up.

[ellecdc]

All's Fair in Love & Chaos (III)

third instalment (I - II - III - IV)

a short blurb style mini-series in collaboration with @unstablereader no real plot, just vibes and comedy.

Synopsis: soulmate au, everyone's soulmate's initials become visible on their wrist when the last person in the bond 'comes of age' (I've left the age ambiguous because their may be mature insinuations later on in the story). As luck would have it, and much to everyone's horror; it appeared that you, Barty Crouch Junior, and Sirius Black were soulmates

poly!DeathStar x fem!reader

“Okay, but I don’t think you’re properly considering my perspective on this.” James offered calmly. 

“Because your perspective is asinine and foolish.” Regulus spat back causing Remus and Peter to chuckle.

“Asinine and foolish… Regulus Arcturus Black, I’ve raised you better than this; quit speaking like such a ponce.” Sirius scolded, causing Regulus to glare at him.

“Your friend is the stupidest fucking wanker I’ve ever met in my life.” He corrected. 

Sirius brought a hand to his chest and looked at his brother adoringly. “I’ve never been more proud.” He whispered as he wiped a fake tear from under his eye. 

“I just think that two things that have eight legs ought to be closely related. I don’t think it’s outlandish to call an octopus a wet-spider.” James carried on level-headedly.

“Because they’re completely different phylums!” Regulus bellowed. 

“Okay but they’re definitely the same shape.” Peter added solemnly. 

“They are-” Regulus started, turning to look at Peter incredulously. “They are not the same shape! How are they the same shape?”

“Well, they’ve both got, like…their bodies? Right? And then they’ve got their legs just….all outward like. You know?” Peter explained, using his hands to represent said body and legs. 

“Salazars saggy balls.” Regulus muttered under his breath as he stood from the library table and gathered his things. “Je n'arrive pas à croire que je m'entoure de parfaits abrutis. Âme sœur ou pas, je ne peux pas continuer à vivre ainsi.”

Regulus continued muttering furiously under his breath as he made for the door causing Remus to let out a long suffering sigh and gather his own things. 

“Way to go, boys.” He sighed in faux admonishment. “You’ve put my soulmate in a bad mood.”

James muttered what sounded an awful lot like ‘well it’s not very hard now, is it?’ as Sirius quickly looked at his watch. “Oh shit! Is it four o’clock already?”

Remus opted to wait for Sirius as he carelessly shoved his untouched homework - that they had originally gone to the library to complete - before hurrying for the library door his brother had just exited. 

“What’s happening at four o'clock?” Remus asked as he caught the door Sirius had just allowed to close unceremoniously on one of his oldest friends. 

Both Sirius and Regulus grumbled - albeit for very different reasons - as Remus and Sirius stepped outside of the library where Regulus had been waiting for his boyfriend. 

“Must you bring your brigade of buffoons with you everywhere?” Regulus hissed at Remus who simply tsked at him and pulled him into his side. 

“Play nice, Reggie.” He murmured into Regulus’ hairline.

“Yeah; play nice Reggie.” Sirius mocked petulantly, earning him a swat up the back of the head from Remus.

“What’s happening at four o’clock?” Remus repeated as he professionally managed a potential level four sibling squabble between his best friend and his soulmate. 

“I have to meet with Y/N and Junior.” Sirius explained solemnly.

“You have your soulmate bond organised by a timetable?” Remus asked as a joke, pausing in his chuckles when he realised Sirius was being quite….serious. 

“It gets better.” Regulus added unhelpfully and unprompted as he followed Sirius and Remus (unwelcomely) to Sirius, Barty, and your meet-up spot. “They have to have supervised hand-offs.”

“Don’t call it a hand-off Regulus; she’s not some child in a divorce.” Sirius muttered petulantly.

“I agree, I rather think you and Junior are the children in this situation.” Regulus bit back with his nose in the air; Sirius wanted to break it.

He didn’t get the chance though, as Remus ushered the conversation along. “Why does it need to be supervised?”

“Because Junior kept trying to hex me when we’d meet up, and then when Y/N told him he couldn’t do that, he’d hide somewhere in the castle and I’d have to snag the map from your trunk to find them.”

“Who supervises these exchanges?” Remus carried on, but Sirius needn’t respond when they stepped into the courtyard where Barty, you, and Pandora were waiting near the fountain.

“Hello Sirius!” Pandora greeted brightly, causing Barty to scowl. 

“No fair! He’s not supposed to bring back up! I would have brought Evan!”

“It’s not back up Barty.” You argued exhaustedly, looking particularly mortified at the attendance at today’s exchange. 

“Hello, Junior.” Sirius bit out as politely as he could manage only to have the sod glare at him. 

“Is there something you’d like to say, Bartemus?” Pandora asked serenely.

“Yes. Get fucked Black.” He spat.

“That was perhaps my fault.” Pandora conceded. “Barty, say hello to Sirius.”

“Hello…..Sirius.” 

“Good job, Bartemus.” Pandora praised like he was a snotty little nursery school student. “Now say goodbye to Y/N.” 

Sirius heaved a sigh as he crossed his arms and shot Remus a look before watching Barty turn to you and pepper kisses all over your face; you - Merlin love you - looked like you were working really hard to fight your fight-or-flight instincts. 

“Now Treasure, if you get tired of him or need anything, just-”

“Barty, I’m fine.”

“I know you’re fine.” Barty conceded. “It’s him I’m worried about.”

“Barty.” You repeated; tone taking on a severity Sirius wasn’t accustomed to hearing from you. “It is Sirius, our soulmate…our soulmate. I will be fine, yeah?”

Properly chastised, Barty shot Sirius another glare before acquiescing and pressing one last kiss to your cheek before letting go of your wrists. 

You nodded gratefully at Pandora for her service and shot Remus and Regulus a wary look as you made your way across the courtyard. 

“Hello, gorgeous.” Sirius greeted you salaciously, causing you to flush impossibly further at the attention. 

“Sirius, please.” You begged.

“What?” Sirius scoffed in faux offence. “He’s allowed to make a fuss over you and I’m not?”

You groaned and stomped your foot a little bit as you allowed Sirius to take your hand in his. “You’re supposed to be more reasonable.”

“Fine.” Sirius relented as he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. “I can wait until we’re in the privacy of the dorm to fuss over you.”

You groaned in horror again when Remus laughed and Regulus grumbled at the thought of his brother fussing over anyone.

“I’m going to be attending poor Y/N’s funeral before I ever attend her soul-bond.” Remus joked as the four of you made your way back into the castle.

“Make sure it’s a nice funeral, yeah?” You asked him quietly. 

Remus barked a surprised laugh at that. “Consider it done.”

“And then send the bill to Junior.” Sirius added quickly, earning him an elbow in the ribs.

[dumbseee]

starstruck.

F1 au/fic: in which, daniel attends the met gala and meet his ultimate crush, y/n l/n.

daniel ricciardo x actress!reader.

fc: jasmine tookes.

note: the timing is terrible

when you finally finished your interview with emma chamberlin, you saw in the corner of your eye a man looking at you, smiling from ear to ear. you didn’t recognise him but by his looks you knew he was someone important. you walked up to him and smiled back, his cheeks were red and he struggled to hold your gaze now that you were in front of him.

"hi! first time here?" you asked, waving at him, "i’m y/n l/n." he smiled again and scratched his neck. "is it that obvious? and i know, i’m kinda your biggest fan, daniel ricciardo it’s nice meeting you." he shook the hand you were giving him and gave it a gentle squeeze, you didn’t fail to notice how big his hand was and how it engulfed yours. you laughed and put your hand against your heart. "oh really? what is your favorite work of mine?" you asked him, genuinely curious. you didn’t know why but you were drawn to his energy. he looked up and thought for a second before answering. "there is too many, but i really liked you in the marauders, couldn’t think of a better actress to play dorcas." you laughed and thanked him. "to be honest, it’s not my best work." he looked at you like you just said the most out of pocket thing in the world. "excuse you? you were amazing! you perfectly portrayed dorcas and the way you showcase emotions just with your eyes is just incredible! seriously you’re one of the best actresses out there and i-…" his eyes were full of sparkles, like a kid talking about his favorite football team, he stopped himself when he saw you look at him with a huge smile. his cheeks were even redder and he couldn’t look at you anymore. "i talk to much, right? i’m so sorry, i do that a lot." you brushed him off and patted his shoulder. "daniel, you’re adorable." he smiled fondly but before he could speak again, your agent came to you. "we have to go y/n, donatella is waiting for you." you nodded and waved at daniel. "it was great meeting you daniel, i hope to see you again soon!" he watched you leave and couldn’t wipe off the smile on his face, he knew how good looking you were but seeing you and talking to you in real life was different. from that small interaction only, daniel knew how much he was infatuated with you.

liked by danielricciardo, daniel.jpg, blakelively and 5 681 972 others.

y/n: you guys know how much i love going to the met gala, but this year was even better. thank to anna for inviting me again this year, and i hope to see you again next year! huge thanks to donatella for customising this dress for me, you’re a legend.

_

donatella_versace: donatella VERSACE 💜

zendaya: i’m on the floooor girl

fan1: not daniel liking with all his accounts

fan2: the queen of the met

fan3: the dress looked so good!

fan4: y/n never misses

fan5: who’s daniel?

fan6: @.fan5 y/n’s future husband

liked by danielricciardo.

fan7: WTF DID DANIEL JUST LIKED THIS COMMZNT???2€:8:9

view all 57 899 comments.

liked by danielricciardo, daniel.jpg, selenagomez and 3 792 000 others.

y/n: we worked so hard on this one so i’m glad it’s finally out! the batman is out in all theatres so grab your pop corn and go watch it!

_

selenagomez: such an icon

fan1: y/n as catwoman is something i HAVE to witness with my own two eyes

fan2: y/n and robert pattinson flirting in imax is going to be the death of me

fan3: i hope daniel can fight because y/n and robert’s chemistry is insane

fan4: @.fan3 leave daniel out of this they’re not even friends

fan5: @.fan4 yes they’re not friends, they’re soulmates.

fan6: i understand daniel’s obsession tbh look at HER

fan7: y/n better get her emmy after that movie

view all 34 899 comments.

liked by danielricciardo, dualipa, taylorswift and 4 782 929 others.

y/n: appreciation post for my number one fan, danny ric. i suck at love confessions so just listen to daylight by my good sis taylor swift <3 (idk why he loves taking pictures of me but he’s ALWAYS pointing that camera at my face)

_

danielricciardo: that’s because you’re my favorite view, my love.

liked by y/n.

fan1: AWWWWWWW

fan2: daniel really went from watching her from afar bc he was too shy to talk to her to him being her bf

fan3: my favorite couple

fan4: don’t EVER breakup

taylorswift: you guys are so cute 💜

fan5: daniel is the perfect man for y/n tbh

view all 68 99 comments.

[sidekick-hero]

Cheesy

steddie | 1.2k | rated: teen | tags: modern AU, Eddie works at Surfer Boy Pizza, inappropriate humor, cheesy lines and bad puns, fluff and humor | AO3

"Steeeeeeve! Steven! I’m starving! You have to save me from the cruel clutches of death by buying us a pizza. But you must hurry—I don’t have much time left."

"Oh no, what would I ever do without you?" Steve deadpans, barely suppressing a grin.

Robin dramatically flings herself onto him, knocking the wind out of him with a loud 'oumph.'

She jabs a finger into his ribs—surprisingly painful. "Crash and burn, Dingus. Crash. And. Burn."

Steve swats her poking fingers away, scowling at his platonic soulmate. "At least I’d have fewer bruises and a better bank account. This is the third time this week I’m buying you pizza, Buckley. How is that fair?"

He tries to sound stern, but as Robin squirms in his lap, looking up at him with big, pleading blue eyes, his resolve crumbles to dust.

"Because I’ve been your best friend since we both lost all dignity in those sailor outfits. It’s us against the world, oh platonic love of my life. Or... don’t you love me anymore?"

There it is—the killing blow. Game, set, match.

God, he’s so fucking easy, isn’t he?

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Gimme my phone, jeez. You’re eating me out of house and home, I hope you know that."

Steve gets a sharp elbow in the stomach as Robin scrambles to grab his phone from the table.

"Ouch! God, why are your elbows so pointy?"

"They’re my secret weapon against the patriarchy," Robin says distractedly, shoving the phone in his face. "Pizza. Please. Hungry."

Robin’s monosyllables mean the situation is dire. Steve quickly dials their favorite pizza place. “Veggie?” he mouths, earning a thumbs-up from Robin.

“Surfer Boy Pizza, this is Eddie speaking. What’s your poison of choice?”

Huh. The deep, smooth voice on the other end of the line is new, throwing Steve off momentarily.

“Uhhhm… You’re not Argyle,” he blurts out, immediately wanting to slap himself. How pathetic does he sound right now?

An amused chuckle echoes through the tiny speaker.

“Keen observation skills, Sherlock. Argyle’s off today, so you’ve got the pleasure of my company. How can I make your day better, sweetheart?”

The flirty tone throws Steve further, but he can’t deny he’s enjoying it. So, he decides to match Eddie’s energy.

“I could think of a few things, but I’m not sure they’re on the menu,” Steve flirts back, relishing the chance to flex his long-dormant charm.

“Is that so?” Eddie’s smile is practically audible. “Who says they aren’t? Or that I wouldn’t make an exception if you ask real nice?”

Steve opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, Robin’s elbow digs into his side, knocking the breath out of him. She’s glaring at him, mouthing, ‘What the fuck?’

The sound must have been loud enough for Eddie to hear because he clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh, was that… I mean, sorry if that was too forward, man. Please don’t tell my manager, I just got the job and—”

“No! No, no, no, don’t worry. My best friend’s just starving and shared her pain with me… via elbow to the ribs. It wasn’t too forward, I promise.”

A relieved sigh reaches his ear. “Okay, good. So, what kind of pizza can I get you two before your best friend starves to death? I wouldn’t want that on my conscience.”

A heavy weight settles in Steve’s stomach. He didn’t realize how much he missed being flirted with, even casually. Nancy was right—their relationship had been over long before they ended it. It’s been ages since he felt this kind of excitement.

“Yeah, no, we don’t want that,” Steve agrees, smiling despite himself. “One veggie, and one with meatballs—yes, I know how that sounds.”

Eddie’s flirtatious tone returns. “Wouldn’t dream of going for such an easy opening, big boy. I’m easy, not cheesy.”

“Oh. My. God.” Steve laughs. “That was terrible.”

“But you liked it.”

Steve grins. Yeah, he did. He’s a sucker for bad puns and dad jokes. But Eddie didn’t need to know that. “Pleading the fifth.”

Eddie hums, asking for his name and address before promising the pizza will be there in 20 minutes.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve says, his voice softer than it should be.

“Anytime, Stevie. Enjoy your pizza!”

“Bye. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Deafening silence. Then, in a surprisingly calm voice, Eddie says, “I hope you’re not expecting a discount on the pizza now that we’ve confessed our undying love to each other. Because I’d do anything for love, but I won’t do that.”

And then he hangs up, leaving Steve to spiral in peace.

Love you.

Love you, too.

Fuck. Oh my God. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. What was he thinking? Nothing, apparently. It’s just… with Nancy on his mind, his brain switched to autopilot, saying the words he ended every call with her. Three years of habit.

“Steve? Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The worried look on Robin’s face lasts just long enough for Steve to explain what happened before she breaks into ringing laughter.

“Oh my God,” she gasps, barely able to catch her breath. “That’s… hahaha… I can’t… What is your life, Dingus?”

By then, Steve’s laughing too, Robin’s reaction helping him see the humor instead of drowning in embarrassment.

As promised, there’s a ring at the door about 20 minutes later, announcing the arrival of their pizza. The sound sends butterflies fluttering in his stomach, even though he knows the delivery guy won’t be Eddie.

Knowing that and seeing it for himself are two different things, though. He can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment when he opens the door to find a blonde, pimply teenager staring at him doubtfully.

“So, you’re the guy trying to lure Eddie into your sex dungeon?”

Steve sputters, completely thrown. “Uh… what?”

“Why else would you tell a total stranger—who’s also working for you, by the way, hence creating an imbalance of power—that you love him? Freak.”

The teenager shoves the pizza boxes into Steve’s hands, snatches the bills from his other hand, and walks away without another word.

Steve stands there, staring into the void, deeply regretting all his life choices. He’s snapped out of it only when Robin’s voice pierces through his thoughts, yelling for her pizza.

“Coming!” he shouts back, closing the door with his foot and carrying the boxes over to where Robin’s already making grabby hands.

He hands hers over before settling down next to her with his own.

“What took you so long?” she asks, mouth full of pizza.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he begins but stops when he notices the note stuck to the top of his pizza box.

Hey Stevie, I lied, because this is cheesy, but you are one supreme slice, and I’d love to give you meatballs for as long as you’d like. Yours truly, The guy you confessed your undying love to (aka Eddie) P.S. Please don’t mind Sam. He’s just jealous because no customer ever confesses their love to him.

Beneath the note, Steve finds a phone number.

Without thinking, he grabs his phone and quickly types out a message before finally digging into his pizza, suddenly starving.

‘Hey Eddie, if you put a sausage on top of the meatballs, we have a deal. xxx the guy you confessed your undying love to right back.’

Inspired by this ancient post I can no longer find:

[notthecutesttrash]

From One To Another

Soulmate AU

Content: Chrollo Lucilfer is your soulmate. However, you know that he is a criminal and you reject him. You have a boyfriend to still prove love can be real outside the birthed bonds, but he’s just as bad.

Trigger warnings: 18+ Dark, lots of mentions of graphic abuse, slight smut towards the end, little nipple-play, language

Word count: 8.06k

As a child, it always meant the world to you that one day you would be fated to meet someone. Someone who was meant for you in every possible way. Maybe you’d argue, sure, that was apparent by being with your mother and father. Still, that person would be your all, your soul, your everything. 

You saved yourself for years, refusing any possible relationship even if you desperately wanted to be held, to be kissed, to be loved. You knew it would be worth it when you met him.

A man named Chrollo Lucilfer. 

And your heart shattered when one day you turned on the news and found his name printed on a bounty sheet for no small amount of Jenny. 

At first, you tried to believe with everything in your heart that it wasn't true. Your soulmate wouldn't be a criminal, not yours. Especially when it was claimed he was part of a group called the Phantom troupe that killed not only dozens but hundreds. It just made you sick thinking of it. 

Maybe he hadn’t killed anyone, it was only his group members. Maybe he was forced to be with them and they threatened him when he sought to escape. Maybe they only steal because they’re in desperate need of Jenny. Maybe.. just maybe he wasn’t evil. 

Tears poured out of you weeks after you found the news, just thinking of all that you had dreamed of as a child withering to dust. You would have no sweet and shy interaction, no beautiful story you would tell the table. No happy marriage, no children, no.. love. 

There were stories of people who have gone through similar experiences, survivors of terrible soulmates. Even if fate meant it to be, all weren't perfect, many were far from, some pure evil. There would be no balance without it. But why did it have to be yours? Why did you have to have the evil one? Because someone had to, right? But.. why? 

For all that you had avoided, you ended up in the same situation you had sworn not to be a part of, soulmate or not. Simply put, your boyfriend is a piece of shit. Why were you with him in the first place? You didn’t know. You believed it was to prove yourself and others wrong, that pure love between two fatefully unmatched people can work just the same. You were hopeless. 

You would never find love within someone else, and you would never with your soulmate. Even if he was the nicest person alive- you stopped yourself there and scoffed. So nice that he murders or even sits idly by as a bystander. Fat chance he was nice, one way or another they're all the same. 

You sit on the couch attempting to watch a movie, while your boyfriend ushers around all drunk and stupid. His hand grabs the handle of the fridge and slings it open, reaching for another beer. “Don’t you think that’s enough?” You catch his attention and he lifts himself to look at you, raising a brow. 

“What’d you say?” He has an edge to his voice, but you repeat as you narrow your eyes at him. 

“I said. Don’t you think, that’s enough?” 

“And who are you to say? Fucking bitch.” He hiccups and slurs, “You’ll gladly have a glass or two with your friends, but I can’t have a few beers?” Arguing with him is useless. A glass or two does not equate to being outright drunk on a “few” beers that lay around the kitchen floor. Of course, all for you to clean up later. You shake your head to yourself, making sure he didn’t see. It’s been happening on repeat, and every night as you lay beside him, his hands all over you as he spoons your forcefully into him, you think, is this worth it? Maybe being with a criminal is better. Or really.. no one at all. 

But you couldn’t leave, he still loved you. Did you love him..? Or was this all a show to just have someone’s arms around you at night? He slumps on the couch, his arm pulling your shoulders so you can scoot even closer to him. Complying, your knee touches his own as you get close. He takes a swig of his beer and rests his feet on the coffee table. His socks alone smell like something died, and you say nothing as his breath full of beer comes into your space. His tongue licks up your neck and you wince. 

“Can you stop… I’m trying to watch this.” In reality, you weren’t watching, it was hard to. You were so focused on your surroundings, flinching at any little loud sound he made before he sat. 

“Ah come on, you know you love it.” You hated that cocky attitude, god you hated him, but he was right, it did cause a tingle in between your legs. He licks up to your ear again, even biting your earlobe. It was too hard and you yelp, pushing away instinctively. 

“Stop… I’m serious, please. I just want to watch this.” You gesture to the movie screen and turn to it completely. He hates being ignored. His hand grabs your chin harshly and he forces you to look at him, a glare zoning in on his eyes. 

“I want it.” He growls as if that was supposed to make you bow down to him. You wished you had the courage inside of you to shout, I don’t, but there was a clench in your throat. Before you knew it, you were on your back with him over you. His hand lifts your shirt to show your breasts, and his hand grabs you too hard again, and you hiss. 

“Stop-“ his hand covers your mouth, and he dives down to your neck, his lips attaching to your skin. You kick him in the groin, and he groans out, clutching himself. You take this moment to rush to put on your coat and shoes. 

Your voice begins shouting as it does almost every night, and every night you do the same thing, you grab your coat and shoes, and you threaten to leave, sometimes you even do, but it was rare he’d let you out the door. Then in the morning, you’d be all cozy together again, he’d grab your waist while you make him coffee, kissing your ear and giggling sweet nothings. 

“I’m done with this, I’m fucking out of here, I can’t take this anymore.“ You make sure to be as fast as possible, and you sling your bag around your shoulder and rush to leave. He’s on you in an instant, pulling your arm away from the doorknob forcefully. Suddenly you’re choked and slammed against the wall. 

“You’re not going anywhere, you got that?” His grip becomes tighter, and you raise your leg to do the same kick, but even in his drunken state, he’s able to grab it with his other hand. Still, he was weaker in this position and you push him off you with all your might. Again you turn to leave but you are swiftly pulled back by your hair. His fist was clenched tight around your strands, even ripping a few out as you screamed. 

A blow is landed at your stomach and you nearly hurl on the floor. He punches the side of your face, and your eyes are forced shut at the impact. It began twitching and you were sure that would leave a black eye. You’re shoved to the floor and his hands grab your arms, his body over you again. “Get away from me!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, flailing around. You were sure the neighbors heard, but they never did anything about it.  

“Don’t touch me!!” 

His fingers began toying with you, slurring mumbles as he tiredly kissed your neck. Again you manage to jab your knee into his stomach and as he recoils you run to the bathroom, slamming it shut and locking the door. Tears fell from your face as you held your throbbing head, ears ringing at the blow. The door shook as he pounded on it, screaming your name and shouting at you to open up or else. “Open the fucking door (Y/n), open it! Open the fucking door!” 

“I swear to god if you don’t open up right now-“ You cradled yourself in the bathtub, closing your ears from it all until it became nothing but mumbles. Flinching at every time he pounded, you continued crying. You were terrified the hinges would fly off, the door would be broken down, and you would have no protection whatsoever. ‘I can’t do this, I can’t do this anymore.’ 

Eventually, it would pass, as it always did. He’d pass out somewhere, whether it be the floor, the couch, the bed, wherever, and you’d be scared to remove yourself from the safety of the bathroom, for fear he would wake up and kill you.

You slept in the bathtub and woke up with a pain in your head, eyes dizzy to the flickering light that stayed on. Groggily you grabbed onto the rim of the tub and attempted to pull your shaky sore legs out. When you saw yourself in the mirror, you assumed right. There was a big purplish black bruise around your eye, even a red hand mark around your neck. You pulled your pants down to find a few bruises on your legs. Probably from falling, or maybe these were from the other days, you don’t remember.  

You couldn’t take this anymore. 

But you couldn’t leave. You had your life here, but most of all, you hated to restart, to find someone all over again, you wouldn’t be able to do it. So you felt hopeless as you splashed water on your face and cleaned yourself. You pulled out your makeup palette used only for covering bruises. When you opened it the area surrounding the center was sunken in, and metal showed up as holes in your foundation. You were running out, you needed to get a new one soon.

Grabbing your sponge, you pressed it gently into your eye, wincing at the pain. You needed to get ready for work because someone had to pay the bills around here. Next was your neck, and after that, you looked normal again, perfectly robust and healthy. Opening the door, a weight slid off and thudded onto the ground, your boyfriend’s head. He was passed out, snoring, hands sprawled out on the floor. You simply sidestepped in the gaps of his body to walk around him. You couldn’t care to brush out your messy hair, and you were sure most of the shedding was a fault of him yanking it too hard. Better not to let anyone see your scalp anyway. 

You slung your bag over your shoulder as your stomach rumbled. Was there enough time to get some breakfast before you headed to work? You checked your phone. You were a bit on the early side so that was a yes. Besides, it’d be nice to eat alone and get a new atmosphere besides beer cans that littered the ground. And at least the coffee shop wouldn’t smell like barf. 

You shut your door to see the woman at the apartment next to you, grabbing her keys to lock her door behind her. She gave you a look, and you walked passed her to the stairs. “(Y/n) right?” She suddenly spoke, and you turned to her. A nervous expression was on her face, and she pursed her lips, staring down. “Listen… I’m sorry- my husband told me to not get involved.. but.. are you okay?” A spike of defensive anger got to you, but for the most part, it was mixed with shame, a pathetic embarrassment filled you. Was this really what you chose? A life that your neighbors have to feel scared for you and ask if you're okay?

“Yes, I’m perfectly fine, don’t worry.” You fake smiled and waved. “I hope you have a good day.” When you walked down the stairs it fell. Attributes of working in customer service. A sigh left you as the brisk air hit you, and you walked to your destination. You couldn’t afford a car, but it was fine, everything was close anyway. 

At work today you were in charge of helping the new trainee. A nice guy it looked like, someone who was awkward and didn’t want to make anyone go through a hassle for him. You wished you at least had a guy like that. “Press this if you want to open the register. The system here will tell you how much to give them, fairly simple right?” He nodded, and you assorted through all the cash. It wasn’t a hard job, and you didn’t really care or not if someone was over your shoulder watching. Anything was better than home. 

The door dinged as someone entered. An enthusiastic woman greeted you. 

“Good morning! How can I help you today?” 

“Hi, can I just have a small black coffee and um.. hm.. a grilled cheese I suppose.” She smiled and you nodded, politely returning the gesture. She handed you the jenny and you looked over your shoulder to show the trainee what exactly to do. How to ring up a specific or basic order. You had him bring up the option so he could show her the amount due. The woman waited patiently, smiling, and he was nervous, cheeks flushed as he struggled to find the grilled cheese. You eventually pointed it out to him, tapping above it as if to give him a gentle hint. 

“Sorry about that,” he spoke politely once he finally rang it up. 

“Don’t worry, I’m in no rush.” She smiled prettily and removed her wallet from her purse. After handing in the exact amount, you placed it in the register and closed it. Easy enough. 

“You’re all set, it should be out in about 5 minutes.” She nodded and waited on the side where the finished orders were placed. 

You begin speaking to your coworker again, explaining all the sorts of foods or combinations you can order, and how they have to be specifically rung up to be recognized in the system. “Let’s say if someone wants a salad, but no tomatoes, simple, you just go here, then here, press customizations, and remove the option. Either press on the picture or the word “TMTS” you following?” The man nods, even though confused, he is determined, and so you let him take the reins. 

“Whenever you need any assistance just let me know, i’ll be helping out with the food while Marley does the drinks, okay?” 

“O-okay,” he stutters as he tries to adjust. 

“Have a nice day!” The woman calls out, walking off with her items. You smile and respond in kind, inwardly sighing. 

The door rings, and you’re too busy prepping the table to see who walks in. You just hoped they would go easy on the trainee. 

“Is this really necessary?” One had a deep voice, and he was very tall and muscular, you could see that from just your peripheral vision alone. 

“I feel like I’m gonna pass out, are you kidding me? We were running extra rounds until 3 am.” You couldn’t see how the others looked as they were directly behind you, but it didn’t matter anyway. 

“Hello, how can I help you guys today?” The trainee spoke, nervous but outwardly confident, face masked with a smile. You hummed in approval, that’s a good step.

“Let me get a- hm… what is that, a BLT?” One of the men asked, pointing to the menu, eyes squinting. 

The trainee turned and nodded. “Yes.” 

“Alright, lemme have one of those, you want anything?” Assumedly he makes a gesture to the others around him, however many they were. The price rings up after a few moments of him slowly looking up the name. 

“Sheesh that’s a bit of Jenny for just a sandwich don’t you think?” You sighed, this time a little more audibly, but not enough for anyone to hear. You already knew how this was going to go.

“Got any beers here?”  

“Um…” The trainee panics a little, looking for the name on the screen. He doesn’t see it, but before making a definite answer, he looks at the menu himself. But before he can say “no” the other man scoffs. 

“What, you don’t know if you got it or not? Dont’cha work here?” 

Glancing at the register, he gives you a nervous expression as if hoping you’d save him. You pull away from the prepping area and gesture over your shoulder, signaling for him to swap places. You’ll deal with it for now.  

“Don’t worry about it,” You say to him more than anything as he walks away a little defeated. 

“Okay, what can I help you guys with?” You speak a little more firmly this time, but your fake smile remains. It was a group of 3, one large buff fuzzy man, one blondie with a furrowed expression, and a monotone man with slicked-back hair and grey eyes. It was a strange group you admitted, but you tried not to be rude and stare. The tall guy spoke his specifically long order which was more than a few sandwiches, while the other had a combo, and the one in the coat only wanted a tea. You were glad you took on this group, no doubt they would be shouting slurs at the second mess-up and making the poor guy sputter apologies only half a minute in.

“Is that all I can do for you guys today?” They answered no, and you smiled as you stated their total. They pulled out their wallets and when the one with black hair angled his wrist towards you, money in hand, your fingers instinctively reached over to grab it. That was until you saw the name on his wrist, and you stopped dead in your tracks. Your breath caught in your throat and your eyes went wide. (Y/n) (L/n). No, this couldn’t be. It wasn’t real. 

“Is something wrong?” He tilted his head after a long pause, and you inhaled sharply, swiftly grabbing the jenny. The other two gave each other a sort of look, brows raised as they handed you the rest. The one in front of you, the one who was supposed to be your soulmate didn’t say anything, nor did he have a reaction, his face remained the same, and you were sure because of that he didn’t notice anything wrong. 

Besides, even if you knew it was him, he wouldn’t know it was you. You tried to reassure yourself. Your wrist was covered in wraps. They’d never know, so you can’t seem suspicious, not now.

“No, I’m so sorry about that.” Clearing your throat, you quickly arranged the register and handed the change off. “Your orders will be ready in 10-15 minutes or so, okay?” The tall man grumbled, and you gestured faster than ever for the trainee to switch back with you while you nearly hyperventilated making stupid fucking sandwiches. All the while you could feel their stare burning in your back. 

“Are you okay?” Marley then asks and you nod. All you had to do was relax. You’re used to having to lie about this, so it’s no big deal.

But why does this time seem ten times harder than usual? 

“Yeah, of course.” He looks at you in a way as if he knows you’re lying but shrugs it off. You place the order on the counter for them to pick it up, attempting to make zero eye contact as they come close. You meet his gaze, those grey orbs that fixate on you calmly. You almost stare a little too long, before you clear your throat again and push forward the food for them to take. Once they did, that was it, they would walk out just like that and you wouldn’t see them ever again. Your soulmate is officially gone. 

But what if that wasn't the case?

Quelling the anxiety, you nervously trail their steps as they start to walk out of the shop. And when they finally do, you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. 

When you clocked out, exhaustion burned into your temples. Thinking of going home to speak to your boyfriend already set you in a horrible mood. There was a chance he was in a good one, but still, you’d have to deal with the fact that you just met your soulmate after all these years of being with your boyfriend. Whether he was a murderer, a criminal, or not.. that man was fatefully supposed to be with you instead.. and truthfully it hurt a little in your chest. But maybe it was for good, again, he was not a good guy, and if you did get together, it probably wouldn’t be all that different from your current situation. Try to be realistic, you told yourself. Just because the word soulmate is slapped onto someone, it doesn’t mean it’s all fairytale love. 

You just needed time to breathe, just a little. Maybe you’d regret it, but right now, you needed it. You made sure to take your time walking home, even getting yourself a little snack from the bakery and eating there while you contemplated. Forty minutes passed, and then you made it home. You paused at the doorway, your hands lingering above the doorknob a little too long. Inhaling, you rotated it and entered. 

Your boyfriend’s voice rang out, not at all happy. “Where were you?” Good news at least, he wasn’t drunk, but did that really matter? There was a time when you thought it did, but not anymore. 

“I just went to get something at the bakery. Look.” You pulled out a cute little pink-wrapped box that revealed a muffin inside. You didn’t want to buy it. But you knew you would need to show proof. Still, even then it would amount to nothing. 

“Bakery hm? With your new boyfriend huh?” With the stress you had today of meeting someone you never thought to, this struck a nerve more than it had ever. You were not at all in the mood. 

“I don’t want to talk about this right now, okay?” Your tone was firm, and you removed your jacket, stomping off into your room. Unfortunately, it was his too, and you could get no privacy as he didn’t even let the door close to follow you in. 

“Why huh? Cause it’s true? I knew you would fucking cheat, you’re a dirty whore.” He continued on a bout of slurs, gesturing to you angrily and even poking you in your chest. All you wanted to just do was lie down and calm the overstimulation in your mind. Why was it so fucking hard.. to just relax? Breathing becoming heavy, you were struggling more and more to calm down. The anger was getting to you. You were so sick of this you could scream. 

Your hands shook from the adrenaline as you set your bag down, removing your scarf, and other work accessories. Your headache was pounding the more he raised his voice. Suddenly his hand touched your shoulder with a hard grip, and every bit of restraint you had exploded. 

 “I JUST DON’T WANT TO DEAL WITH THIS RIGHT NOW OKAY?! JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” You rushed off into another room, slamming the door behind you. He followed, shouting threats and slurs, and you picked up the nearest object you could, a beer can, a shoe, whatever it was, and repeatedly threw. It wasn’t with much force, but you just hoped the amount of items could deter him. A fury only doubled in his eyes as he ran after you. 

He was screaming, threatening to kill you, harm you, do whatever if you did not make your way back that instant. You wouldn’t, you couldn’t do it anymore. “I HATE YOU! LEAVE ME ALONE!” You shouted at the top of your lungs. 

It was only so big of an apartment, and eventually, he made his way to you. With not much force, you kicked him in the stomach. He recoiled by punching your cheek hard, but not enough to make you collapse. You screamed as he threatened to kill you again, “GET AWAY FROM ME!” You kicked him and threw just about anything that you had, and shoved him in his chest hard when he tried to get near you as you attempted to run to the bathroom. 

“I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!” He shouted. This time you were sure he was serious. He grabbed a kitchen knife from the block and held it threateningly towards you. 

Gasping in fear, your tone changed to barely above a whisper, shaky but with a hard attempt to be firm. “Get the fuck away from me… I’m serious, don’t.. don’t fucking touch me, get away, or I’m calling the police.”  

“Yeah, and how are you going to do that?” He taunted, knowing well that your phone was in the bedroom, just where he was blocking. Swallowing harshly, you remained still, unsure of your next move, scared if you ran he might just swiftly catch up and pierce you. 

“I wasn’t cheating, I just needed a moment to myself, all I did was go to the bakery, okay?” You tried to patiently reason, even if you secretly knew it wouldn’t do anything. He scoffed. 

“Yeah? Tell that to all your other fucking boyfriends, piece of shit.” He gestured to you with the knife in hand, and suddenly dove. You ran for the bathroom as quickly as you could, but this time he knew what you were planning. Suddenly you met with the floor, your head slamming and bouncing against the hard tiles. Scramming to your feet, he kicked your leg hard and shoved your head down so you would meet the tiles again. This time you heard a crack and felt warm liquid rushing down the back of your head. 

You began thrashing and screaming at the top of your lungs when he neared. “SOMEBODY HELP ME! HELP ME!” Disoriented, he choked you hard enough to stop all cries, so hard you had no doubt he would truly kill you this time. Your mouth opened to get a breath, but nothing would come. Your hands were struggling to get him off of you. 

 “You useless bitch- what are you good for? Nothing-“ 

“I think I heard enough.” A sudden voice interrupted, lessening the hold of the man atop of you. It being enough to make you breathe, you gulped the air instantly. It was silent for a moment before your boyfriend cussed out. 

“What the fuck?” 

“Who the fuck are you? And how did you get in my goddamn apartment?” 

The weight over you vanished, and you didn’t care what happened, who, when, or where, you ran. Slamming the bathroom door shut and locking the door, you cradled yourself in the tub, the lights off as you shuddered silently. It was quiet at first, so quiet, something you weren’t used to save for the ringing in your ears. Blood droplets fell at the back of your neck and when you touched it, tears formed. Why would you do this? Why would this happen? 

You heard your boyfriend screaming violently, a scream you never ever heard him make. It was as if his life depended on it. Something in you felt horrified, guilty, and scared, but you didn’t want to go out, you couldn’t. You didn’t want to die. You didn’t know what was happening if he was just making an act, or if he was coming towards you. But you wouldn’t open the door, not until he fell asleep. Then you could leave, this time forever. You didn’t care anymore. Tears fell in silent streams for a few seconds, then they became so strong you sobbed violently. 

“What the hell- what the hell is that?!” Your boyfriend shouted nonsense at whatever it was. He’s delusional, he’s gone insane, it’s over for you. 

Eventually, all stilled, it became quiet again. You were whimpering in your hands, hiccuping, body shaking uncontrollably. You heard the lock click as it shifted, and a slow creak as the door opened. He had found a way in, he was going to kill you, and you were cornered. You kept your eyes covered, terrified, sobs shifting into screams as you heard the footsteps. They were slow, step by step. You didn’t want to die, you didn’t want to die. Step. He was in front of you now, if you opened your eyes, he would be there just above you, a knife in his hands, a horrible glint in his eye as he stabbed you lifeless. 

But what you did not expect was the man to coo at you, to ease your cries.

“Sh…” you flinch as a hand rubs at your head, patting kindly away at your gnawing migraine. Your boyfriend wasn’t usually this sweet, you were sure any second now he’d be pulling at your hair and gesturing the knife to your throat. But it didn’t come. 

When your body finally stops rampantly shaking, and your sobs are almost quelled, you lift your head only slightly, enough to peek through your fingers. Although it was dark, and your eyes took a bit to adjust, you noticed that wasn’t what your boyfriend would wear. But the clothing.. did somehow look familiar. 

Your hand slowly fell to look at the figure above you. When your eyes meet, a different type of ice-cold fear strikes you. Grey emotionless eyes that even you could see in the darkness. Or well, you couldn’t say emotionless, they did look.. a bit… dark actually.. and scary. He didn’t furrow his brows like a normal person, nor did his eyes widen, but you couldn’t explain the terrifying look he had in them. They softened instantly to a neutral state and you gawked confusedly.  

What could you say? 

What are you doing here? Who are you? (even if you knew the answer to that). How did you find me? Hello. 

Your bottom lip trailed into your teeth, tears still streaming. You looked pathetic. Surely all your cries washed away the makeup, allowing him to see the bruises that littered your face. Who could ever love you like this? Not even a criminal. 

“I’m going to take care of you now.” Your soulmate spoke, and as much as it maybe should’ve calmed you, (maybe if your soulmate was anyone else), it only caused further crying. Then you paused, remembering. 

“Wh-What did y-you do to him?” 

He tilts his head. “You worry for him?” 

You nod slowly. 

He hums and walks over to the light switch, flicking it on. Recoiling, you rush to hide yourself, squinting at the light that now buzzes above you. “Perhaps you should look at yourself more clearly.” 

Your legs were still covered in bruises, blood was dripping down your neck slowly, falling beneath your shirt, and your eyes were wincing in pain. But yet you still worried for him. 

You gazed at his wrist, feint black words that you couldn’t see because of your dizzy eyesight. You just wanted someone so bad you would settle for anything. He was right. Still, how could your conscience take someone’s death or pain on your behalf? 

You shook your head, shaking the disposition of your thoughts. Your breath hitched when he reached his palm out to you, and there you could see it again. Your name across his wrist in fine black ink. “How.. how did you know it was me? I-I had it covered.” 

“Your reaction was obvious. Plus, your name.” You were confused, your name? No one had- oh. Just before they walked out the door the trainee called out your name, requesting further help on the machine. 

But you guessed it didn’t matter anymore. You whispered pathetically, your eyes meeting his again. “Are you going to kill me?” 

“No. You’re my soulmate. We belong together, I will give you all you want from here on.” You couldn’t help but scoff. He was a murderer, a criminal. His hand touched your cheek to turn you towards him. You recoiled fearfully, pushing away from his touch. Upon looking closer at your black eye you felt his tone shift, even if his demeanor didn’t show it. 

“I wouldn’t let anyone touch you like this again, you can have my word.” 

You don't even know why you tried to reason with a murderer. But you were desperate. 

“Promise?” Your weak voice muttered out. 

“I do.”

You nod and take his hand. He pulls you to your feet effortlessly, even if your legs wobble and ring out in pain. You hissed quietly as you stepped out of the tub. Your legs were sore and stiff, and your head throbbed. You were beginning to get dizzy and you could feel the nausea coming to your throat quickly. Covering your mouth, you rushed to your knees at the front of the toilet and vomited to your heart’s content. Everything you had this day went down the dump. Tears streamed down your cheeks again. You bit your lip, your hands still bracing the sides of the toilet, your heart pacing wildly. You looked to your soulmate.. to Chrollo Lucilfer, and you bit your lip.

“You won’t hurt me?” He took a moment to respond which worried you. 

“Intentionally, no. I will not.” That didn’t really help, but I guess if that meant he wouldn’t try to stab you in the middle of the night, it would suffice. You did believe his words, but still, something seemed amiss. Maybe it meant, no, unless you try to escape and tell on me to the cops. 

“Come.” He took his hand out to you again.

“Where are we going?”

“Your new home. You’re going to live with me, and you won’t have to work from now on.” Those words made you fearful until he kept going. “I’ll provide for you.” A flutter warmed your heart. Someone who would provide for you… someone who would finally take care of you instead. That made you happy. 

You lifted yourself, and he stepped to the side so you could wash yourself at the sink. It was an even more pathetic sight than last night. Blood was dripping down the side of your head, and it hurt to the touch. Still, you washed it away and began getting out your palette so you could cover up the wounds. 

“What are you doing?” Chrollo asked, and you turned to him, confused. 

“Well.." Pausing for a few seconds, you continued. "I have to look presentable. If people saw me walking with you... with a bruised eye, they’ll assume you hurt me.. and.. well..” you didn't continue that, but you assumed he knew where that was going. 

A swirl of darkness rushed to his eyes as his lips curled slightly into a smile, albeit it was horrifying. “I wouldn’t worry. If anyone dares take you from me then-“

“Stop. Please. Just stop.. I don’t want you to hurt anyone.. please… Just.. let me cover myself up.. just for today.. then when I go with you, I will rest up and heal.. okay? Please..” he let out a small exhale and you hold your breath.  

Criminal, abusive, or not, would he ditch you? Toss you to the side when he sees how much you could not stand needless murder or crime? Would you be alone again, with no soulmate, not even a boyfriend now? 

His tone was calm, “I understand. Clean up, I’ll be waiting.” It drew you out of your fixation, and you nervously nodded as he walked out of the bathroom and closed the door after him. As much as you’d love to take a peaceful shower once and for all, you knew he would be waiting, probably upset if you took too long. You ran warm water over your neck and pulled the bloody-stained shirt over your head. Luckily you had enough spare clothes in the bathroom drawers, considering it was like your separate room. 

You repeated the same action from this morning, pressing the makeup to your bruised eye, your neck, the back of your neck, and your throat. 

You would be happy now, right? Was this the last time you’d do this? 

Exhaling a sigh, you put on a clean shirt and left. “I’m ready..” you held your breath, eyes glued to the floor. You expected to be hit, or even see your bloody boyfriend beat up on the floor, passed out. But he wasn’t there in the living room. Weird, you thought. 

Chrollo had his elbows against his knees, and he lifted his head to look at you. “Any last valuables you need to take?” 

Your clothes maybe, but the thought made you uncomfortable. Maybe you should just start over new, remove anything from the present .. but you would have to buy back everything, and with what money? You definitely weren’t using his. You just met him. And now that you think of it, he still kind of broke into your place. 

“Um..” you awkwardly stood, staring at him. You opened your mouth to speak but shut it. “N-No.. it’s okay.. we can go now.” 

“Don't worry about small items, I will let you buy everything you need." 

He walked to your front door, and you stilled. You couldn’t believe you were doing this. Walking off with a man you just met, soulmate or not, away from the place you lived for years with your boyfriend who was probably beaten to a pulp.. somewhere.. maybe in the bedroom.  

When your foot stepped on the line between the hallway and your apartment, you turned back, worrying. But what if he was okay? You should go back and at least say you’re fine, and that it was going to be okay and apologize.  

“You won’t miss it much longer,” Chrollo stated, and you turned to him, frowning. 

“Can I at least say bye to him?” Chrollo tilts his head at your request, a sudden glimmer in his eye. 

“No. I’m afraid that’s not an option.” You pouted, head lowering at his tone. Maybe it was for the best, he surely only had your best interest at heart. Maybe if you had said bye it would only make you feel guiltier. 

“Okay.. let’s go.” 

He still had that dangerous gleam in him as you walked out of the complex. Though you admitted you felt safer with him than you had with anyone else so far. You didn’t know how he did it, you didn’t know how he broke into your room, how he fended off your abuser, or how he looked perfectly fine. But he rescued you. 

“Is.. is all that really true?” Chrollo turned to you, grey piercing eyes fixating on yours. “That you’re with a group… called the phantom troupe.. that you have killed people… and stolen things?“ 

“Yes, it is.” Your head lowered at the confirmation. Something in you was just hoping it wasn’t, just that little twinge of hope.  

“Do you plan on turning me in?” He asked, unworried. You’d assume someone who had such a big bounty on them would be terrified of getting caught any second. Yet he was surprisingly easygoing. He didn’t believe for a second you could take him on alone and bring him in for a prize, and he was right. 

“No… you’ll probably just kill me if I try..” 

“You misunderstand. You are my soulmate, we are meant to be together. I will not kill you, nor will I ever try. Only if you attempt to run, or act irrationally then I will have no choice but to punish you or anyone else involved. And just be aware, I will not give mercy to others.” 

A sigh leaves you. You guessed that was fair. “What will you do to them?” You secretly knew the result, but you gulped nervously, afraid he would confirm it.

He side-eyes you as he continues walking, and you’re staring, impatiently waiting for him to answer. “Do I need to say something you already know?” 

You shake your head with a frown. It became quiet.

You had lived in a busy city-like area. However, the further you walked, the less that people were now nearby. Lights were flickering, if there were any at all. These new crowds of people looked different, dirty, rude, and suspiciously quiet. 

You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t scared when the alleyways looked like where someone would get murdered and not found for days. For all you knew, you just walked into another killer’s arms, and these were your last moments. 

It was cold, and tears were pricking your eyes from the wind. The one time you forget your jacket. You hadn’t forgotten any other time you stormed out in a fuss, but the one time you had a moment to think, you would forget it. 

Chrollo’s hand touches your shoulder and pulls you into him. “It’s good not to get hypothermia out here.” He smiles, and you blush. You were sure it was just an excuse to get you closer, but you supposed that was what the smile was for. It was genuine at least.. yet the more and more he leads you on, you are certain he might just kill you. Buildings around you were becoming more and more absent, and less and less stable. 

He was quite warm.. for someone with no shirt underneath a coat. Somehow you faintly relaxed into his arm. That was until Chrollo stopped in front of a building, and turned to you. This was it, your time came. 

“I’m not going to kill you.” He spoke as if reading your thoughts. You nodded nervously. 

You wondered if maybe you just had a normal relationship from the beginning you would never continuously fear death in this way. 

It was nice in actuality, his place, even if the outside was disguised as a piece of junk. You supposed this might’ve been the sort of man to not care about looks. But the moment you stepped into the room, he had all sorts of trinkets around that made you nervous. Red eyes floating in a jar, paintings, weapons on display, and whatnot. What if you became one of his collections? The thought made a chill run down your spine. 

It was a bit unsettling here, yet admittedly… something about him felt safe. You should know more than anyone how you cannot trust anyone with a sweet facade. But you had a feeling deep down, that this would be okay. The bedroom was nice, perfect actually, it even had a bathroom connected to it, and it was hard for you not to be happy at the change of scenery. Maybe this wouldn’t be your forever home, but you could enjoy it for now. 

“Wipe the makeup off your face.” There was a certain demand in his tone, and your heart swiftly picked up in pace. 

“You need rest,” Chrollo gently reasoned after, cutting the awkward silence. 

Your heart quickly calmed in relief.  "O-Okay.." 

The only sound in the area was the warm water pouring from the faucet. All this silence was nice, you could get used to this sort of peace. 

Circling slowly, the makeup ran down your face in streams, revealing that purplish color around your eye. Next was your neck which showed red handprints. This was never fun doing.

Flicking the light off, you strolled back to the room when you were done. Finding only Chrollo’s coat that was lying on the edge of the bed, until you then found him at the corner, sitting. His elbows were against his knees, hands intertwined with one another.. completely shirtless. You spun instantaneously, squeaking at the sight. 

“Wh-What are you doing?” 

“I hope I don’t need to remind you again that we are soulmates. They do sleep together, do they not?” Even with his neverending patience, you feel you could strike a nerve at any moment. Maybe it was sudden, sure. But he was right, you two were fated, there was no shame in looking at just his bare chest. 

you muttered shyly. “They do..”

Chrollo steps behind you, rubbing his palm at your neck. Somehow you didn’t flinch, or feel pain, instead, it felt.. nice. A warm pair of lips kissed at your side, and your stomach fluttered, “And they have sex with one another, don’t they?” He nearly whispered in your ear. You nodded, whimpering at his touch. Your shirt lifted above your chest, bra expertly unclasped so he could squeeze your nipple with his fingers. His tongue trailed up your neck, and he squeezed around your breast again. This felt better than what your past boyfriend could’ve ever done. 

“Hm?” Chrollo mused, waiting for you to answer as he squeezed your nipple again. You moan at the tug.

“Y-Yes..” 

“As I thought.” He pulls away, and you whimper. He almost smirks, pulling the sheets to the side. 

Cheeks flushed, you let out a shaky exhale as you turn your head over your shoulder to look at him. Your hands were lingering at your shirt as if caught between a decision to take it off or not. 

“I wouldn’t think so hard. Eventually I’ll get to know every little crevice of your body, every little part that makes you scream, tick, or cry. Nothing will be kept from me.” Chrollo speaks calmly, yet possessively, with a certain knowing edge in his voice. 

“They’re not..” You pause, breathing out. You throw your shirt over your head and take off your bra so that it falls at your feet. You undo your pants slowly, feeling his eyes on your bruised body. You left your panties on.. because you at least needed that little bit of dignity before you revealed yourself fully to a man you just met.

“They’re not.. covered..” You rotate to him, arms covering your bare chest, eyes to the ground, ashamed. 

Again, there was that glint in his eye. Something malicious, something dreadful.

It was pathetic, but seeing this look in him, made it feel real. You were protected now, he would kill anyone in your wake, and maybe it was awful, but it comforted you.

He moved closer to you and you instinctively tilted your head in a way so that he could not easily see. There was no makeup or shirt to protect you anymore. His two fingers lifted your jaw so he could study the marked skin. Handprints that only should’ve been imprinted on you by his own. 

“Look at me.” 

You timidly blinked up at him, a warm flow of shame spilling in you as you whispered, “I’m sorry." Tears threatened your lids, and you pursed your lips. 

Why were you apologizing? What for? Were you afraid he didn’t like you? Or that maybe he was ashamed of you? He was quiet for a moment before he spoke. 

“Everything will be handled. Do you understand that?” 

Although you were fearful at that sentence and unsure what that could mean for all the other poor unfortunate souls out there, you nodded. You were safe. He would protect you now.. everything was going to be okay.. everything was going to be just how you wanted it to be. You could finally be happy now. 

His lips captured yours in a deep kiss. It took only a moment before it became a pleasant exchange between two tongues. His tongue captured yours easily, and you moaned into the kiss as his hands caught your breast again. 

You were shoved onto your back against the mattress, but it was soft, softer than you’d ever felt. Chrollo pulled away leaving you a breathless mess. The scattering bruises came to his attention again, and he nearly ripped your underwear in two. He dove down to lick at your fragile skin, suckling high at your neck. You whimpered, legs surrounding his waist as you felt him poke at your entrance. 

He would show everyone who your body belonged to, whether you liked it or not. 

[dira333]

Bakugo x Reader, 6 parts, Timeskip AU

Not everyone is born with a Soulmark. But even if you are, it doesn't make things easier.

Warnings: None, Angst to Fluff.

Chapters are going to be posted daily.

Part 1

Deku’s Soulmark is on his shoulder, barely noticeable in the mess of freckles. He’s got it just shortly after Katsuki, of course because Katsuki always gets things first. Like his teeth, or his Quirk. Katsuki thinks his Soulmark is a lot cooler, something like a tribal pattern, but it looks even better. The only annoying thing about it is the placement. It’s a fat, blueish-black mass on his left ass cheek and his mother has told him not to show it around.

Not that he would. He only showed it to Deku to prove that he got his mark first. 

-

The dream is always the same.

Flakes of Ash are flowing through the air like snowflakes. Upturned tables and chairs make it hard to navigate the room, but he’s on it, moving through the Chaos.

Katsuki spots a leg first, lifts the desk you must have tried to hide under.

Your face is covered in soot, your features barely recognizable. He sinks to his knees at your side, cradles your head in his hands.

“Wake up,” he begs you, his heart hammering in his throat. “Wake up.”

You never open your eyes. Instead, he’s the one who wakes up, stares at the ceiling above him, and curses. 

It’s known to happen. Just another symptom of his bond. The longer it takes you to find your Soulmate, the more of this you get to experience. And it’s not like he’s not looking. But it’s a different kind of looking, now that he’s the Number 2 Hero in Japan.

Katsuki hits his pillow a few times, settles again. If he falls asleep now, he can get another hour of much-needed rest. 

But rest won’t come.

Instead, he thinks about Deku, who’s already found his Soulmate. Just another win over him. Though, he doubts Deku’s counting them like he is.

When he closes his eyes, your face is the only thing he sees. So still, covered in dirt. If only he could brush away the dirt, maybe he’d be able to find you.

If only he could dream a little longer.

-

“Soulmate Mark finally spotted? Read more about Dynamight Secret.” Katsuki snorts as he clicks on the link. As usual, it’s nothing but speculation and a blurry photograph of him. This time, they claim a new bruise on his biceps as a possible Soulmark. If only they knew. Hah!

His mother had been right, all these years ago, to tell him to keep it covered.

Not that he’d have been running around, presenting his buttocks to strangers, otherwise. But he’s seen the crazy. Still remembers all those fake Soulmarks, the exasperation in Shoto’s voice when he’d been the first - and worst - victim to fall to it. 

He’s not going to let that happen to him. He’ll find you. But on his own terms.

-

“Hey, Man, you’re up?” Kirishima knocks on his door. “I’m making breakfast.”

“Let me do it,” he insists, stepping out of his room. “I want it to be edible.”

Kirishima grins. “You could just admit that you’re going to miss me.”

“As if,” Katsuki grunts, pushing him out of the way. Kirishima laughs, the sound familiar and warm. Yes. Katsuki is going to miss him.

But he has no time for that now. The weather is nice today, granting them a blue sky and no clouds. Katsuki’s sweating his ass off, leaving handprints on cardboard box after cardboard box. Mina’s running circles around them, Kaminari as usual not lifting a finger. He claims he’s responsible for the music, the food delivery, or the navigation, never mind the fact that Kirishima could drive to Mina’s place blindfolded by now. 

And then they’re done, crashing on Kirishima’s dark red Couch that eerily fits into Mina’s vibrantly colored living room. Kaminari’s handing out beer from the fridge, phone awkwardly tucked between shoulder and ear as he talks to his girlfriend.

She’s nice, Katsuki knows. A little uptight at first, but with a good head on her shoulders. Able to deal with the crazy Kaminari’s dishing out. Speaking of crazy. “I want to crawl into your skin and wear it,” Kaminari sings into the phone at this moment, grinning like a madman. 

Katsuki rips the beer from his hand. “Please don’t,” he grunts, listening to Mina and Kirishima laughing.

He’s the only single guy among his friends. 

It’s a thought that seldomly plagues him but when it does, it does.

His phone rings and he considers not picking up, seeing the unknown number. But he’s hung up a few flyers about looking for a roommate so he accepts the call anyway, getting up to talk in the tiny bathroom to get some privacy.

“Bakugo?” 

“Ah, yes, hi.” The voice is distinctively female, soft enough to send a shiver down his back. Or maybe he’s just lonely.

“Hi.” God, is he trying to sound nice?

“Hi.” There’s a rushed giggle, then a deep breath. “I saw your ad. For the apartment. I- I work for Manic!Design.”

His parent's firm. He’d asked his father to hang it up, to not make a big fuss about it. No one in the agency had looked twice at the little hangout after all.

“When are you free?” He asks, rubbing his pointer finger over a stain on the mirror. “To look at the apartment?”

“I’m free today. Next week is a little tight, but I can push some things around? Maybe on Tuesday?”

“We can do it today. My roommate moved out today so it’s a little messy still, but that way you can see it right away.”

“Oh, yes, okay.” He can hear the hesitation in your voice, can feel the unease in his own heart.

“Or Tuesday, if that works better for you.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll see you… does half an hour work for you?”

He calculates quickly. If he leaves right now, he will make it on time.

“Yeah, no problem.”

-

He regrets not showering. 

His shirt sticks to his body in awkward places and he can see the imprint of his right hand on his pants. His right hand. Katsuki lifts it, like he often does, to inspect it. Despite having lived with an intact limb far longer than he had to live with a messed up one, he still can’t help but marvel at it, and feel unease at the change. Does it sweat more now than it used to before the war? Why is that scar still there but the other one isn’t?

“Hey!” Your face pulls him out of his reverie and he lets his hand sink to muster you.

You look familiar in a way that has his heart speed up uncomfortably, his skin prickling. He really should have showered beforehand, pushed that meeting a little further back. 

“I like your shirt,” you point out, your own hands pushed into the pockets of your jacket. Oversized, black leather. He likes it immediately. It looks like one he owns too. 

“Thanks,” he rumbles, opening the door for you. “Come in.”

-

“Just so you know.” You lift your left leg to rub your feet over your right knuckle, a nervous habit if he’s ever seen one. “I work for your parents.”

“Figured.”

Your eyes flicker up to his and back down again. “I don’t… I don’t want them to think weird of me. I mean, they haven’t really noticed me, yet. But they will, for sure. I just-”

“Spit it out.”

You grin, a sharp, yet sweet thing that has him hold his breath.

“I don’t want them to know we live together.” You say it like it’s already a done deal. Like you’ve already moved in when he’s not yet decided if he wants you on the lease or not. He likes that. You’re decisive.

“They wouldn’t.”

“Oh?” You cock your head to the side and his tongue turns dry at the sight. “Don’t they visit?”

“Not really. I want- I want my privacy. I usually go over to their place if I want to see them.”

“Okay.” You nod. “I’d take it then. If you’re okay with it.”

He offers you his hand to shake, not quite thinking about what he’s doing until you shake it. His palm is slick with sweat and he cringes at the feeling but your face does not show what you think. His bones, mended back together yet not really, feel like pudding in your grip. 

What is going on?

- x -

You’ve perfected your morning routine.

You snooze your alarm once for a blissful ten minutes of more sleep before you roll out of bed, check the weather with a toothbrush in your mouth, and choose what to wear. That’s always the hardest and best part of each day.

A heavy knock on your door alerts you. “Bathroom’s free.” 

Yeah, that’s the first change in your morning routine.

Bakugo’s done most of the heavy lifting yesterday, making the heaviest of your boxes look like they weigh nothing. 

Toothbrush still in your mouth you grab your clothes for the day and rush through the hallway. It’s not that you don’t want him to see you right now, messy hair and crinkled pajamas, but you don’t really want him to see you right now.

Not when he’s probably looking like a young God, blond hair the perfect amount of messy, blood-red eyes never missing a thing. He’s way too good-looking to be your roommate, but you don’t doubt he’s looking for anything more. Not with you, at least. He’s a Hero, after all. Number 2 if you’re not mistaken. And your bosses son.

You wipe the mascara from under your eye and open the bathroom door. If you leave in five minutes you’ve got just enough time to catch the bus. That’s a record.

“Here,” a plate with Omurice appears under your nose. “Breakfast.”

“Oh,” you blink. “I don’t… I don’t eat breakfast.”

“Hah?” Bakugo looks like you’ve personally offended him. “Who doesn’t eat breakfast? It’s the most important meal of the day.”

“I don’t have time for that. I’m just getting a coffee to go for the bus ride.”

“I’ll take you then.”

“What? No. My bus is coming in five minutes.”

“Sit.” Bakugo pulls out a chair with his other hand. “Eat. I’ll take you. It’s on my way anyway.”

“What about your parents finding out I’m living with you?”

Something like a blush works its way up his neck. Or he’s getting angry. Who knows?

“I’ll let you out at the corner.”

“Still-”

“Eat.” He thunders and you take a seat, eyeing him. “What if I’m allergic to Omurice?”

“Who’s allergic to Omurice? It’s Omurice.”

“There’s egg in it.”

He groans. “What do you want to eat then?”

“Omurice is fine.” You pull the plate toward you, digging in. It tastes heavenly and you bite back a groan of delight. Who knew you were this hungry?

-

“Hey, I’m going to the store.” You push your head through the door, trying not to look too closely at where he’s currently doing push-ups. “Do you need anything?”

“What?!” Katsuki drops, rolls, and glares at you. “It’s ten pm.”

“Yeah, so? The store is still open.”

“You’re not going alone.”

“I’m grown up, I can walk by myself.”

“Not this late.”

“Okay, Dad.” You roll your eyes. “I’m fine. Do you want something from the store or not?”

“I’m coming along.”

A heartbeat long you’re left speechless, watching him as he gets up and slips a shirt on. But then, your fight awakens.

“Not if I’m already gone,” you rush out, slamming the door shut behind you.

You’re out of the apartment before him, heart hammering in your chest as you race down the stairs. You forgot your shoes in the apartment, but it’s a little too late now to turn back around, especially when you can hear the door closing, Bakugo calling your name through the staircase.

Is it childish to run away from him like that? Yeah. But it’s also incredibly fun.

He catches up to you halfway down the street, a murderous look on his face. 

“What the fuck?!” He yells, trying to grab your arm. The illusion vanishes in front of him and you cackle, just a few steps ahead, hiding behind a sign for Thai Massages.

He’s at your side in a heartbeat, but he does not grab you this time.

“I can look after myself,” you tell him, still trying to catch your breath. “I’m not your kid.”

“No,” he starts, teeth grit, but he doesn’t end the sentence. If there was ever a sentence to begin with.

“Now that you’re already out and about, you can tag along, I suppose,” you offer, leading the way. “But if you need to accompany me at all times things are going to get real awkward real son. I like to go dancing sometimes too, you know. Or Karaoke. Do you do Karaoke?”

“Yes,” he grumbles. “Who doesn’t?”

“What’s your go-to song?” 

He grumbles something. 

“Sorry, didn’t hear you there.”

“The Allmight theme song,” he repeats, a little louder this time.

“Catchy, Good choice.” You nod.

-

Snooze your alarm, brush your teeth, pick your outfit, race to the bathroom.

Today’s breakfast is Miso Soup, rice, and grilled fish, the table already set for two. You take a deep breath, steel yourself for the conversation ahead.

“You need to stop this.” You say, both feet planted on the ground. “You can’t cook for me every morning.”

“I cook anyway,” Katsuki’s not looking at you, glaring holes into the coffee maker instead. “It’s not much work.”

“Still. It disrupts my routine, I’m sure it disrupts yours as well-”

“It is my routine.” He disagrees and your mouth falls open.

“You always cook for your roommate?”

“Yeah!” You don’t imagine the blush that’s now rising up and up, lighting up his cheeks. “What about it?”

“Did she break up with you?”

“What the hell?!” He bursts out. “No one broke up with me! Kirishima moved in with his Soulmate.”

“Ah. So…”

“Nothing. Sit down and eat.” 

“Only if you promise to stop cooking for me. And following me around.”

“I needed to protect you.”

“You don’t need to do shit for me.”

His head swivels around at the swear word. “Surprised?” You grit out. “I’m a grown-ass woman, I can take care of myself. If I’d wanted a boyfriend, I would have gotten that.”

“I’m not your boyfriend.” He disagrees hotly.

“You act like it, though.”

Silence falls. “Fine,” he eventually huffs. “Sit down, we can talk about it.”

You send him one last glare before you slide onto the chair.

“You need to stop-”

“Breakfast or dinner.” Katsukis's voice is harsh, cutting through your sentence. “You can pick. Either or, I’m cooking for two.”

“I don’t know when I’m home.”

“Breakfast it is then.”

“No, wait-”

“Breakfast or Dinner. You decide.”

“What about neither?”

“Breakfast or Dinner.” He stabs his chopsticks into the grilled fish like it personally hurt him. “Make it quick.”

“Sheesh,” you grunt. “Fine. But if I pick breakfast you have to take me to work or I won’t make it in time.”

He nods. “I take you to work in the morning and don’t follow you in the evenings.”

“Wow. Such a huge sacrifice on your part.”

“Oh, because it’s so hard to play passenger princess?”

“Maybe it is!” You bite back. His brows furrow. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is it hard to be a passenger princess?”

You snort. “It’s not that hard,” you admit. “I mean, sure, I can listen to my own music on the bus, but-”

“Send me your playlist then,” he orders. “And eat. We’re going to be late.”

“Sheesh, I’m eating, I’m eating.”

-

You’re home alone that evening. Katsuki didn’t leave a message when he’s going to be back, so you’re not sure what to do with yourself, sending out a tentative invite to some of your friends. Nothing much, just if they want to check out your new apartment…

A key turns in the door and you fumble your phone, trying to delete the text. You’re not ready for them to meet your new roommate just yet.

“Oh-” That’s not Katsuki in the door though. Broad shoulders, wide smile, bright red hair. “Are you the new roommate?”

“Ye-Yes, yes. I’m… are you?”

“Kirishima.” He offers his hand. “I think I left something behind. At least I can’t find it anywhere. Did you possibly see…” He blushes a pretty shade of pink. “Pink boxers? They’re my lucky ones.”

“I’ll go check if you-”

“No, no, I’ll do it myself. Bakugo is pretty intense about the laundry.”

“That too?” You ask. He halts in the doorway. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he… he insists on making breakfast.”

“Ah,” Kirishima smiles. “Yeah. He’s not… He’s not good with words. He likes to show he cares through actions, you know. If I can give you any advice, look at his actions and not at his words. That will always steer you right.”

“Th-Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

[vodika-vibes]

Singing - a request from @wax-birds

Summary: Your soulmate isn’t much of a singer, there’s only one song that he sings, and by this point, you know it by heart. The first time you hear him in person, though, is when the Republic Soldiers come to your home world.

Pairing: Ordo Skirata x Reader

Word Count: 2135

Warnings: None

Prompt: Soulmate AU - you can hear your soulmate sing

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thanks for your request! I wasn't sure, at first, where to go with this, but I hope you like it!

You wake to the sound of singing echoing in your head and you groan, roll over, and pull your pillow over your head, as though that will stop the singing and let you fall back to sleep.

It won’t.

It never does.

You still have to try, though. 

The singing continues, unhindered by the pillow, and you heave another sigh as you throw your pillow to the side and sit up.

You blink, blearily, at the chrono sitting innocently next to you. Barely five in the morning. 

Kriff your soulmate, seriously. And not in a fun way.

You swing your legs off the side of your bed and meander your way to the fresher, humming along with the song echoing through your mind. Would it kill him to learn another song? Any other song?

Okay, that’s not fair.

He does know other songs because you hear him humming along to some of the songs that you sing, it’s just that this one song seems to be the only one that he sings regularly.

It’s called Vod’e An.

A Mandalorian battle song.

The only downside is that you’re never going to meet a Mandalorian. Your home planet is so far removed from Mandalorian Space that you’ve never even seen on. Plus, you’re pretty sure that Duchess whats-her-face banned the old Mandalorian culture.

Or maybe you’re spending too much time on conspiracy websites.

You turn the shower on and wait for the water to heat as you peel your sleep clothes off and toss them in the laundry. Since you’re already awake, you might as well prepare for the day.

As soon as the fresher starts filling with steam, you step under the water and start singing. A silly little pop song that has been playing a lot lately. You’re not surprised when the song in your head changes to singing along with you. 

You and your soulmate have always had that effect on each other. Influencing what song the other one is singing. In a way, it’s reassuring. What, with the state of the galaxy, it’s nice to know that he’s still out there.

It’s a shame your soul bond with him is limited to singing, you’d like to get to know him.

Then again, your best friend’s soul bond is hearing his thoughts, and it made her such an anxious mess that she needed to be medicated.

Hm. You should call her.

You linger in the shower for long enough that the hot water starts to cool, and it is only then that you step out, wrap a towel around yourself, and start preparing for the day.

You work at a local boarding school. One of the most elite, expensive, and competitive schools on the planet. Today you have several parent interviews, to see if their child will thrive at the school or if another one would be a better fit.

You finish dressing, apply your makeup for the day, and then finally leave your bedroom. You head down the stairs to the kitchen and kiss your mother on the cheek.

“Morning, Mom.”

“Morning, sweetie. You’re up early.” The older woman beams at you as she sets a breakfast bowl on the table next to a mug of caff, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah. Just woke up.”

“Soul mate again?” She asks with a knowing smile.

“He takes early days, I guess.” You joke, “And then I started thinking about Clo and just couldn’t fall back to sleep.”

“Poor Chloe,” Your mom sighs as she sinks into a seat across from you, “Her parents sent her to an institute, you know. She stopped being able to tell her thoughts from her soul mate’s.”

“I hadn’t heard that.” You reply quietly.

“Her parents are devastated. They’re hoping he shows up soon.” She shakes her head.

“Do you think visiting her would help?”

“No visitors. She can’t even recognize her parents at this point.”

“That’s a shame.” You say with a sigh, before you shake your head, “What are you doing up so early, anyway?”

“Your brother called. He wants me to watch the twins for the day.”

You roll your eyes, “You need to start charging him for this.”

“Those kids are innocent.”

“Mom.”

“I know, I know.” She shakes her head, “Those kids don’t have any positive influences in their lives outside of me and your father. We’re taking them to the lake house for the week.”

“You’re watching them for a week?”

“You don’t mind, do you?”

“Mom, you and Dad can do what you like, but you need to do something about this. Or he’s going to keep walking all over you.”

“That’s what I keep saying,” Your dad says as he steps into the kitchen. He kisses the top of your head, and then kisses your mom, before stealing a piece of toast from your plate, “We’re talking to a lawyer to get full custody.”

“There’s no room in your suite for two toddlers.”

“Yeah, well. We’re thinking of moving to the lake house permanently. Now that the renovations are done.” Dad says, “But, we’ll discuss this later, you’re going to be late.”

You blink at him and then glance at your chrono, before you swear and scramble to your feet, “Thanks for breakfast, mom!” You call as you hurry to the door.

“You’re welcome, don’t forget your purse!”

“I have it!”

You arrive at school 45 minutes later. You pull into your space, park the car, and stare in disbelief at the sheer number of people running around.

“You’re here, finally!” One of the young women who works in the office says as she runs over, “You have to come quickly.”

“Why, what’s going on?”

“The Senator’s son ran off. And he called in the Republic. There are soldiers here. They want to talk to you.”

“To me?”

“Yeah, well. You know the students.” She drags you over to a pair of men near the building and then abandons you.

“And you are?” The shorter, and older, of the men asks. 

You lift your lanyard, “I work here. I was told you wanted to talk to me?”

The younger man, still dressed in full armor, shifts at the sound of your voice and tugs his helmet off. His gaze is heavy as he scans your face, “You’re the guidance counselor?” His voice is familiar. Familiar in a way that makes your stomach flip, but you push the thought, and nerves, aside to focus on his question.

“Yeah. I mean, during the school year. Before the year begins I do parent interviews for student placement.” You reply.

“My name is Kal Skirata, this is my son, Ordo.” He nods to the taller man, “Is there someplace we can talk privately?”

“There won’t be anyone in my office if that works.”

“That’s perfect,” Ordo says.

“Alright, it’s right this way.” You gesture towards the main administrative building.

“Why don’t you help the others, Kal’buir? I’ll handle the questioning.”

“Yeah, probably a good idea,” Kal replies. He claps Ordo on the shoulder and then hurries over to another clone.

You wait for a moment, and then lead Ordo into the Admin building and to your office, which is on the first floor. You unlock the door and move to the side to let him in first, before you follow him into the room, and shut the door behind you.

“You can have a seat if you like. The chairs are softer than they look.” You offer as you walk around your desk and sink into your office chair. 

Ordo’s gaze slides around your office. He takes in your degrees, family pictures, and the personal items that you’ve added to make this room yours. “I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting a therapist to be my soulmate. Especially based on how much singing you do.”

“Child Therapist and I like music.” You reply, “I did have to teach myself Mando’a to understand the song you keep singing though.”

He flashes a small smirk at you, “You’re a good singer.”

“Thank you.” You motion at the chair, “Please, have a seat.”

He drops into the chair and stretches his legs out in front of him. Ordo is incredibly handsome and he has a very nice voice. But you knew that already. “So, mesh’la,” He drawls, “What do you know about why I’m here?”

“Not much. I was told that the Senator’s son ran off, and that’s it.”

“Is that what you think happened?” Ordo asks, “That he ran off?”

“We are talking about young Brenton Whills, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“He’s been a regular in my office since he was enrolled here.” You say as you reach into your desk and pull out a thick file to place it on your desk.

“Problem student?”

“No, the opposite in fact. Academically speaking, he’s the perfect student. Intelligent, polite, and able to pick up new topics quickly. Socially, he’s very popular. Plays sports and is on the debate team—”

“And yet you say he’s a regular.”

“He’s an anxious kid. Something of a perfectionist.” You pause, “He hates it here.”

“Why?”

“Some kids just don’t like Boarding Schools, they don’t thrive under the structure and being away from their parents.” You explain, “I kind of got that impression from him.”

“So, in your professional opinion, he ran away.”

“This isn’t a prison, Ordo. If the kids want to leave we can’t stop them.”

“The Senator believes his son was kidnapped.”

“No.”

“He believes it a lot.”

“I’m sure he does, but that’s not what happened.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know Brenton. I know him better than his parents. And I’m telling you, he ran away.”

“You’re not worried about him?”

“Send someone to talk to his uncle. He owns a fishing trawler in town. Brenton spends his free time there.”

Ordo frowns and makes a note in his datapad.

“Ordo,” He lifts his head and looks at you, “Brenton has two adults in his life that he trusts, me and his uncle. I’d prefer it if your brother’s didn’t ruin that.”

“Noted.” He makes one more note in his datapad and then sets it on the table. “It’s too bad that the first time I met you was in the middle of a crisis.” 

“Well, it’s not such a crisis, is it?”

Ordo chuckles and stands. For a moment, you think he’s going to leave, but instead, he walks around your desk and leans against it so that he’s on the same side of the desk as you. “Not so much of a crisis that they need me around.” He agrees.

You stand without being asked, and Ordo draws you closer to his body, his hands low on your hips as he pulls you to stand between his legs. You set your hands on his chest plate, one of your fingers lightly tracing the paint coloring his armor.

“I used to fantasize about what it would be like to meet you,” Ordo admits as one of his hands slides up your back and settles on the back of your neck.

“How’s this compare?” You ask as you lean in so you’re pressed flush against his armor.

“So much better,” Ordo replies with a laugh, “because you’re actually here.” He leans in so that his lips are hovering over yours.

“I thought that clones weren’t allowed to connect with their soul mates?” You ask in a whisper.

“We’re not allowed to do a lot of things,” Ordo replies, “Never stopped us before.” He scans your face for a moment, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Yes, plea—” You’re not able to finish your sentence as his lips crash against yours in a deep kiss. And it’s almost like something snaps into place. As though a piece of you that was missing is suddenly there.

And by the way that he’s clutching you, Ordo agrees.

He breaks the kiss, almost grudgingly, though he keeps you pressed tight against him. He’s tightly gripping your waist, and you can tell by the look on his face that he wants nothing more than to strip his armor off and claim you as his right here and now, but instead, he slowly releases you.

It’s not what you want, but Ordo slowly puts a little space between you. “We have a home on Mandalore.” He says, “Will you come with me?”

You hesitate, and then you smile at him, “Tell me where, and I’ll be there when I can.”

“Promise?”

“On my life.”

He flashes a small grin and kisses you quickly one more time. “Give me your comm code. I’m not giving you up now that I have you.”

As soon as you have his comm code, he leaves. Off to find the missing boy. But you, your elated grin doesn’t fade for hours.

[kingofbodyrolls]

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | eleven

🐴Chapter summary: Everything is good, you and Jimin are happy, and you finally have everything you’ve always dreamed of. 🐴Chapter title: This Perfect Day 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: pet names, unprotected sex; public sex (they do it in a cattle truck parked at the side of the road), oral: blowjob, thigh riding, multiple orgasms, breast play, nipple play, a lot of kissing, creampie, cockwarming, hair pulling, marking, a lot of sexual tension again, praise kink, dirty talk and fluff. 🐴Status: completed 🥳 🐴Word count: 14.4k 🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld, @antisocial-mochi267,

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “Say You’re Mine” by Kate Voegele. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: as I’m writing this note, I’m going to post chapter 6. I still feel very discouraged to post… I love the few of you who have taken time out to comment and reblog with nice words— truly 🥹 but the engagement (notes/kudos) are just not what they used to. I’m at that place where I’m thinking about not posting anymore, at all. Like posting gives me this horrible feeling? Like seeing 30 notes, when I used to get 200-300 😭 I know I’m complaining, and I don’t usually do this, but I’m gonna address it. I’m a firm believer in, if something doesn’t give you something good, but instead something bad, drop it. So, there’s a very high chance that this series will be my last in a while. I can’t speak for the future— I’m still gonna write, because that truly gives me so much joy, I’m just not gonna share it (at the moment). Maybe later, when I feel better about it. And maybe I’ll change my mind, who knows? But right now, I don’t feel good about posting this series, and it’s hard, because I love it so fucking much, but I know it’s not for everyone… but yeah, anyway, I’ll crawl back to the whole I came from. Happy reading! 🌸

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there.Wanna see the book cover?

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“This day, this perfect dayPeace, peace at lastLove blurs, love blurs my eyesAnd my heart is in your hands” - ‘This Perfect Day’ by Rebecca Lavelle

Everywhere you turn, the faint scent of roses dances in the air, infusing your senses with a vitality that makes you feel truly alive. Vibrant hues burst forth like a kaleidoscope, saturating both your canvas and the world around you. Everything feels harmoniously perfect, as if the universe itself is painting a masterpiece just for you.

Jessi has outlined the urgency of relocating the cattle to a more accessible paddock closer to home, which is essential before they’re auctioned off in just a few days. You’re gearing up for a daunting cattle muster that she warns could stretch into days of hard work. Uncertain of the necessities for an extended cattle drive, you pack cautiously, opting for practicality with spare underwear and shirts. The thought of wearing the same attire doesn’t bother you, so long as you can avoid the sweat and grime that comes with the task ahead.

Ha-rin whirls around the kitchen, a flurry of activity as she ensures there’s ample sustenance for the journey ahead. With a mix of urgency and precision, she assembles sandwiches, packs canned goods, and meticulously stores vegetables in containers and bags, her determination evident in every swift movement. As Ha-rin meticulously organizes the provisions, the rest of your group converge in the barn, your footsteps echoing against the wooden floor as you prepare the horses for the journey ahead. With a shared sense of purpose, you check the gear, tighten the saddles, and ensure each steed is ready for the long ride ahead.

You step into Mikrokosmos’ stall, enveloping her in a heartfelt embrace, relieved beyond measure to have her safely back in her stall. Gratitude wells up within you for Jimin’s unwavering assistance in locating her, a debt you can never fully repay. The day after you got Mikrokosmos home, Jessi and Jungkook went out and collected the rest of the horses safely back home.

“Hey girl, we’re going out for a ride for a few days,” you murmur softly to Mikrokosmos, your touch reassuring as she responds with a gentle whinny, conveying her understanding. Guiding her out of the stall, you lead her into the heart of the bustling barn, each step resonating with the anticipation of the journey ahead. Alongside Ara, Soo-ah, and Jessi, you all prepare your trusted companions for the expedition, a united front in ensuring Ha-rin’s horse is also equipped for the ride too.

“Ah, these long cattle drives are pure magic,” Ara exclaims, her voice dancing with infectious enthusiasm, as if her joy is a melody eager to be sung.

Soo-ah trails behind, her voice edged with a hint of disdain. “I swear, these drives are a literal pain in the ass. Who wants to endure days of saddle soreness? Not me, that’s for damn sure.”

You chuckle, a shared understanding passing between you and Soo-ah. Memories of your last cattle drive flood back, the discomfort of countless hours in the saddle still fresh in your mind.

With an exaggerated eye roll, Jessi strides out of the barn, leading Cinnamon by the reins. Meanwhile, the rest of you hustle to prepare your horses for the cattle drive ahead.

Efficiently, you outfit Mikrokosmos, ensuring she’s well-prepared for the trek ahead with saddle bags stocked full of essentials. As you complete the task, you notice Ara and Soo-ah wrapping up their own preparations. With your horses in tow, including an additional one for Ha-rin, you step outside to rendezvous with your sister.

As the four of you guide your horses down to the house, eagerly awaiting Ha-rin’s arrival with provisions to load into your saddle bags, anticipation thrums in your veins, heightened by the prospect of reuniting with Jimin soon. You’ve all agreed to lend a hand, recognizing the value of teamwork when it comes to managing the cattle. Just the thought of Jimin’s presence sets your heart aflutter – his warm brown eyes, his infectious smile, and the reassuring strength of his frame. Your mind drifts to his robust physique, envisioning the comforting embrace of his arms, the definition of his biceps, the warmth of his hands, and—

“Voila!” Ha-rin bursts out of the house, her arms laden with bags brimming with an assortment of provisions. With a cheerful efficiency, she distributes the supplies among the group, and you deftly pack the essentials into the two saddlebags snugly nestled beneath Mikrokosmos’ saddle.

With a synchronized grace, you each swing into the saddle and set off in a spirited gallop towards the Bell Ranch. The journey, though brief, is a symphony of exhilaration, the wind tousling your hair as if in playful dance, while the sky overhead paints a magnificent canvas of fiery reds and warm golden hues, igniting the landscape with a vibrant energy.

As the ranch emerges into view, your gaze fixates on the figures in the yard, each poised atop their horses. Yet amidst the group, your attention is magnetically drawn to Jimin. Clad in his signature simplicity—a crisp white t-shirt, weathered denim trousers, and beloved boots—he exudes a rugged charm that’s both timeless and alluring. But it’s his eyes that hold you captive, sparkling with a depth of emotion, perhaps even a hint of desire, while his smile, radiant and genuine, seems to illuminate the entire landscape, a beacon of warmth and affection reserved solely for you.

As you approach him astride Mikrokosmos, you offer a warm greeting, “Hey there.”

You lean in, capturing his lips in a tender kiss, momentarily oblivious to the playful banter and catcalls from the others, a shared chuckle escaping both of you amidst the uproar.

“Hey, babe,” he breathes out, his voice breathless and his gaze lingering on your lips. You can’t help but nibble on your own, a nervous habit in the wake of his overwhelming presence. It’s astonishing how effortlessly he stirs something deep within you with just a simple kiss. Memories flood your mind, recalling the intense moments shared with Jimin during your recent escapade in the wilderness. Now, amidst the chatter of friends and the anticipation of another adventure, you can’t help but wonder if this time will be different, if the chemistry between you two will ignite once more, maybe with less action, because that would truly be weird in front of everybody.

As your horses amble lazily forward, Jimin’s hand finds yours, fingers intertwining seamlessly. The simple act sends a jolt of warmth coursing through you, a silent promise of companionship amidst the vast expanse of the open landscape.

“Are we all ready?” Jessi’s voice cuts through the anticipation, her gaze sweeping over the assembled group, met with a chorus of affirmations.

“Alright, team. Remember the drill: keep it smooth and stress-free,” Jessi’s voice rings out with authority, her grip tightening on the reins as she guides Cinnamon into a purposeful trot. “Our herd’s a day’s ride east-west from here. Let’s make it count.”

With a silent nod to Jimin, you release his hand, urging Mikrokosmos into a spirited gallop. Together, you and Jimin form the rear of your group, a silent understanding passing between you. As you ride, you catch sight of Yoongi and Hoseok up ahead, their easy friendship evident in their smiles and hushed conversation. Mental notes flutter through your mind, a reminder to inquire about their date with Yoongi later on.

As the sun climbs to its zenith, you ride on until the familiar call for a break echoes through the air, signaling a pause for rest and sustenance. Settling down beside Jimin, his presence a comforting anchor beside you, you lean gently into the solidity of his frame, finding solace in the warmth he radiates.

The horses graze on the tender grass, luxuriating in their well-deserved respite, and you take a moment to replenish yourself with cool water and nourishing sustenance, feeling the energy seep back into your weary limbs with each sip and bite.

“How are you feeling?” Jimin’s gentle inquiry envelops you like a warm embrace, his eyes brimming with genuine concern and a flicker of something deeper, stirring a flutter of desire in the pit of your stomach.

You chuckle softly, the sound mingling with the refreshing gulp of water as you tilt the bottle to your lips. “My ass might be protesting a bit,” you admit with a grin, “but I’m holding up just fine.”

His laughter rumbles through the air, deep and rich, setting off a cascade of warmth in your chest. As you nibble on your food, you find yourself drawn into his orbit, the rest of the world fading into the background. In that moment, it’s just you and Jimin, lost in your own little universe.

With satisfied bellies and renewed spirits, you mount your horses once more, urging them into a swift gallop that carries you over hills and across vast stretches of open land towards the waiting cattle. The wind whips through your hair, and the rhythm of your horse’s hooves against the earth is like a steady drumbeat propelling you forward.

As the sky transforms into a mesmerizing palette of pinks and purples, resembling a scene straight from your own paintings back home, you can’t help but marvel at nature’s artistry. Despite the long hours in the saddle and the fact that your ass is sore as hell, your determination fuels your journey, and at last, you catch sight of the cattle grazing on the horizon. Relief washes over you like a gentle breeze, a welcome respite after a long day’s journey in the saddle.

With the sun dipping low and casting long shadows, Jessi’s voice cuts through the rustle of hooves and the low murmurs of the cattle. “That’s it for today. We’ll set up camp and drive them back tomorrow,” she announces firmly, reining Cinnamon to a halt near the herd before dismounting gracefully. Her words signal the end of the day's journey, a welcome respite from the endless expanse of the range. As she steps down, the rest of the group follows suit, each rider swinging their legs over their horses and joining her on solid ground.

Unrolling your sleep mat and spreading out your blanket, you relish the freedom of sleeping beneath the vast expanse of the open sky. Tents seem suffocating in this sweltering heat, offering little respite from the relentless sun. Out here, under the celestial canopy, you feel a connection to the land and the stars above, finding solace in the simplicity of nature’s embrace.

Nestling your sleeping mat beside Jimin’s, you relish the closeness, finding comfort in the warmth of your boyfriend. Nearby, the others spread out their mats, creating a sense of friendship beneath the sprawling sky. Jungkook and your sister, too, opt for closeness, aligning their mats side by side, fostering bonds in the quietude of the outdoors.

Your group settles in for dinner, and Soo-ah interjects with a playful yet stern warning, her laughter echoing through the gathering. “If I hear so much as a moan from any of you guys,” she jests, brandishing her flashlight like a beacon of authority, “I’ll expose you with my flashlight!” Her eyes twinkle mischievously as she scans the circle, her tone a blend of admonition and amusement.

“I swear on every star in this sky, I would never do that!” You practically shriek, your voice rising in horror, eliciting a hearty laugh from Jimin beside you. His touch on the small of your back sends a wave of warmth through you, grounding and reassuring as you banter with the group.

Soo-ah’s stare pierces through the playful banter, her eyes holding a hint of mischief and warning. “It’s not you I’m worried about,” she says with a sternness that cuts through the laughter.

Her gaze shifts to Jungkook and your sister, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes, and suddenly they both burst into laughter, their voices echoing in the evening air like a chorus of mischief.

“He totally doesn’t have any problem with public indecency!” Soo-ah playfully accuses, her finger jabbing in Jungkook's direction amidst his relentless laughter, echoed by your sister’s giggles.

“I’m sorry. I’ll keep it in my pants,” Jungkook quips, his laughter infectious as you share a playful eye roll with your sister. The idea of anything intimate happening out here in the open under the stars, right next to your friends, feels more gross than enticing. No thank you.

Amidst the laughter and banter, you all finish your meal, casting playful glances at Jungkook, who feigns innocence with a grin. With the sky now a canvas of darkness, sprinkled with the brilliance of a thousand stars, you prepare to surrender to the embrace of sleep, a well-earned respite under nature’s celestial canopy.

You glance around, and you notice the girls forming their own cozy enclave, their mats nestled together, sharing whispered secrets and giggles. Yoongi and Hoseok, not too far away, seem to have formed their own pact, their mats positioned snugly side by side. With a gentle distance between each group, the night air is filled with the soft murmur of conversation and friendship. Your sister and Jungkook have already settled down, their figures outlined by the fading light. You shift your focus to Jimin, his presence beside you a comforting anchor amidst the quietude of the night.

You chuckle softly, meeting his expectant gaze as his crooked grin lights up his face. “No funny business,” you playfully jab a finger at his chest, a smile dancing on your lips, the warmth between you palpable in the starlit night.

He chuckles softly before leaning in to kiss you, his lips full of desire, love, and a hint of the roses that aren’t even nearby. His tongue dances with yours, igniting a familiar fire within you. But the reality of your surroundings pulls you back; you’re outside, among friends and family. With a reluctant sigh, you pull away, planting a tender kiss on his cheek before turning around, inviting him to spoon you under the canopy of stars.

You nestle deeper into his embrace, playfully wiggling your hips against his, eliciting a soft chuckle from him. You sense the subtle response of his body against yours, his dick twitching against your ass. His arms envelop you, drawing you close, and you relish in the warmth of his embrace. As his head finds its place in the curve of your neck, you’re enveloped in the comforting scent of his presence, his breath a gentle caress against your skin. A sense of security washes over you as he wraps a leg around your hips, pulling you into an intimate embrace that speaks volumes of love and care.

You drift into slumber cradled in Jimin’s arms, his steady breaths a comforting lullaby against your ear, sending gentle shivers down your spine with each warm exhale. 

As consciousness gradually returns, you blink away the remnants of sleep, greeted by the sight of Yoongi and Hoseok nearby, their figures illuminated by the soft glow of dawn.

“Morning,” Yoongi greets you, a weary smile gracing his lips as he waves a hand in your direction, his silver locks tousled from a night spent under the stars. With a hint of fatigue in his eyes, he absentmindedly runs his fingers through his hair. Hoseok follows suit with a wave, attempting to suppress a yawn behind his hand, signaling the slow transition from sleep to wakefulness.

The girls stir from their slumber, and you glance over to catch your sister and Jungkook sharing soft laughter, still nestled in their blankets. Returning your focus to your boyfriend, a fond smile tugs at your lips as you watch him peacefully asleep, admiring the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest with each steady breath.

With a stretch and a yawn, your sister breaks the morning silence. “Morning, everyone. Let’s grab some breakfast and get to it,” she suggests, her voice carrying a hint of determination.

You nod in agreement, your focus shifting to the still-sleeping Jimin beside you. Gently, you lay a hand on his chest, giving him a soft nudge, urging him to wake up and join the day’s activities.

He slowly stirs beneath you, his eyes fluttering open, he greets you with a warm, sleep-laden smile. “What’s up, love?”

With a tender smile, your cheeks tinged with a hint of pink, you reply, “We have to get to work, but food first.”

He rises from his slumber, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his gaze sweeping over the sun-drenched landscape, basking in the warmth of the morning sun.

Amidst fatigue, you rally, rummaging through your saddle bags to retrieve the sustenance you stashed away. With weariness tugging at your limbs, you replenish your energy reserves, fortifying yourself for the task ahead: herding the cattle back home.

Swiftly devouring your meal, you swiftly equip your horses once more, preparing for the labor ahead. With practiced efficiency, you and your friends align, forming a protective barrier around the cattle, guiding them homeward with a synchronized grace.

As you ride alongside Jimin, your eyes playfully dart towards each other, sharing secret smiles amidst the task at hand. A gentle chuckle escapes your lips as you catch sight of Yoongi up ahead, with Soo-ah accompanying him, their friendship evident even from a distance.

“I need to have a word with Yoongi. I’ll be back in a moment,” you inform Jimin, urging your horse forward to catch up with Yoongi. As you draw near, Yoongi’s eyes meet yours, a welcoming smile gracing his lips, signaling his readiness to listen.

“Hey there,” you greet them with a chuckle, offering a nod to both Yoongi and Soo-ah.

“You just couldn’t wait any longer, could you?” He teases with a laugh, his tone carrying a playful undertone.

“Nope, couldn’t wait a second longer,” you reply with a grin, your curiosity piqued. “So, spill it. How did the date go?” You flash a knowing smile, eager for all the juicy details, your excitement barely contained.

As his laughter fills the air, you catch the subtle shift of Soo-ah’s attention, her gaze now fixed on your exchange, her curiosity piqued by the laughter.

“It went well. We have another date next week,” he replies, his smile adorned with a hint of bashfulness, the faint flush on his cheeks betraying his otherwise cool demeanor.

“I knew it. I knew Hoseok liked you!” You exclaim gleefully, punctuating your words with a playful smack on his arm, teasing him with a grin. Soo-ah, beside Yoongi, appears taken aback by the sudden revelation.

“Hoseok?” Soo-ah’s voice wavers, tinged with a hint of sadness. It hits you like a ton of bricks — fuck, you'd forgotten that she harbored feelings for him too.

“Wait, you went on a date with Hoseok?” Soo-ah’s voice quivers with disbelief, her tone laced with a mix of surprise and uncertainty.

Yoongi simply nods, his expression weary, as if he’s exhausted from the weight of hiding his emotions for so long.

Soo-ah’s shoulders sag with disappointment, and you can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her. However, her expression quickly shifts, and she manages to muster a bright smile for Yoongi. “Well, I’m genuinely happy for you,” she says, her voice masking any hint of her inner turmoil.

“Any details you want to share?” You prod, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes as you nudge him playfully.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Sorry to disappoint you, but it was pretty tame. Just dinner and a beer, nothing juicy to share,” he replies with a grin.

You chuckle softly, noticing the subtle blush coloring his cheeks. Despite his reluctance to share, you offer a supportive nod, respecting his privacy. After all, some stories are meant to be savored in silence.

“I’ll head back to Jimin,” you announce with a grin, earning a playful eye roll from Yoongi, accompanied by his laughter.

You bring Mikrokosmos to a stop, patiently waiting for Jimin to catch up. As he approaches, his hand instinctively seeks yours, and he leans in, stealing a swift yet tender kiss.

“Yoongi told me his date with Hoseok went good,” you share with a wide grin, still basking in the lingering sweetness of Jimin’s kiss.

His voice filled with a tender mix of love and adoration, he asks, “Hm. That’s good. Do you want to go on a date with me next week?” Your heart swells as you can’t help but smile, nodding your head eagerly. 

“Yes, of course.” 

“What’s all this about a date?” Jungkook suddenly appears beside you, causing you to chuckle at his unexpected arrival.

“How about a double date at our place?” Jungkook suggests, his smirk stretching wide across his face. You roll your eyes at his typical suggestion, knowing that he’s always one for a group outing. It’s not that you’re opposed to the idea of a double date; it’s just that you were hoping for some alone time with Jimin.

Jimin remains silent, his eyes fixed on you, waiting for your reaction, his gaze a mixture of anticipation and curiosity, silently urging you to respond.

“Alright, we’re in,” you agree, albeit reluctantly, to Jungkook’s proposal, offering a small smile that masks your slight disappointment at the change of plans. Nevertheless, you reassure yourself that it might turn out to be enjoyable after all.

“Cool, I’ll tell Jessi,” he remarks with a grin before trotting off toward Jessi, who’s leading the cattle atop Cinnamon, their faithful horse.

You spend the ride beside Jimin, hand in hand, lost in each other’s company until the midday sun prompts a well-deserved break for nourishment. Time flies by, and soon you find yourselves back on Mikrokosmos, herding the cattle homeward once more, the day slipping away in the rhythm of hoofbeats and love.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you find a spot close to a lake to set up camp once more. Dinner is shared, laughter exchanged, and as night falls, you nestle into Jimin’s warm embrace, finding solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a soothing lullaby that guides you into a peaceful slumber.

The morning light filters through the trees, illuminating the campsite, and you’re greeted by the sight of Jimin’s tousled blonde locks, wild and carefree. Your heart dances at the sight, and a tender smile graces your lips as you admire his peaceful slumber. Unable to resist, you lean down and plant a gentle kiss on his cheek, eliciting a soft, contented murmur from him. “Wake up, Jiminie,” you whisper, your voice laced with affection, coaxing him from his dreams.

His eyelids flutter open, and he rubs them gently, allowing the golden rays of the morning sun to filter through and illuminate his irises like shards of amber. Slowly, his gaze shifts, finding you amidst the soft glow of dawn.

“Morning, my love,” he murmurs, lifting himself to meet your lips in a tender embrace, the warmth of his affection melting away the remnants of sleep.

“Morning, babe,” you reply, returning his kiss with equal fervor. Laughter from behind catches your attention, and you glance over to see the girls teasingly sticking out their tongues, playfully mocking your affectionate display. Ignoring their antics, you smirk and pull Jimin in for another kiss, this time with an added hunger, relishing in the closeness you share.

As you part for a breath of air, your sister strolls past, offering a cheerful good morning and casually grabbing some food from one of the saddlebags.

You stretch your arms, letting out a deep yawn. “I really need a shower,” you groan, feeling the stickiness of sweat and dust clinging to your skin after spending over a day in the same clothes. You have a spare set packed away, but it feels inadequate against the persistent grime that seems to have settled into your pores.

“I can fix you a shower,” Jungkook suddenly offers, and you turn your head to look at him in disbelief, surprised by his unexpected suggestion.

“I can make a makeshift shower over that tree. The lake is just over there, so it’s easy to grab water from there,” Jungkook explains casually, his suggestion igniting a spark of excitement in your eyes. You notice the girls also showing interest in the idea, their curiosity piqued by Jungkook’s proposal.

“Count me in too,” Ara chimes in eagerly, stretching her arms over her body as if to emphasize her desire for a refreshing shower.

“Awesome, leave it to me,” Jungkook declares, rising from his sleeping mat with purpose. He swiftly dresses himself and strides over to the nearby tree, where he begins fashioning a makeshift shower using nothing but rope and a tarp, his movements confident and efficient.

After nearly half an hour of focused effort, Jungkook completes the makeshift shower. Its walls are ingeniously constructed from tarp, creating a semblance of privacy amidst the wilderness. The crowning achievement is a homemade bottle with a spraying function rigged overhead—an unexpected touch of luxury in the great outdoors. You can practically feel the anticipation bubbling within you, yearning to shed the grime from your skin beneath the revitalizing cascade of water.

“Done,” Jungkook declares triumphantly, the sound of his hands coming together echoing through the tranquil air as he strides back to join the rest of the group.

“I’ve got first dibs!” You exclaim eagerly, springing to your feet and darting towards the makeshift shower. With a swift motion, you shed your clothes, tossing them aside without a second thought. As you glance around, a moment of uncertainty washes over you, pondering the logistics of obtaining water for your much-needed shower.

“Need water?” Jimin’s voice cuts through the air, his hands deftly carrying a brimming bucket that he expertly empties into the makeshift shower's overhead spray. The frigid cascade catches you by surprise, eliciting a startled shriek as the chilly droplets dance across your skin. Yet, amidst the shock, there’s an immediate sensation of refreshment as the cleansing streams wash away the grime, leaving you feeling revitalized and invigorated.

Jimin’s laughter fills the air, warm and inviting. 

“Mind if I join?” He teases, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes as he edges closer to the makeshift shower.

With a coy smile, you welcome Jimin into the makeshift shower, relishing the warmth of his gaze on your bare skin. As you part the tarp to invite him in, his eyes flicker with desire, and he sheds his boxers without hesitation.

As the water envelops both of you, your arms wrap around his waist, drawing him nearer. His lips meet yours in a tender kiss, igniting a passionate flame within you. Your bodies meld together seamlessly, your curves pressing against his firm form, sending waves of desire coursing through your veins.

You sense the growing hardness of his dick with each kiss, sending a surge of desire coursing through you. Your fingers itch to explore him, to feel him completely. A soft moan escapes your lips, mingling with a playful chuckle, as the intensity between you builds with each passing moment.

“We can hear you, and we can also see your legs,” Soo-ah’s playful voice interrupts, snapping you both back to reality. You share a knowing chuckle with Jimin, exchanging soft glances as her words burst your intimate bubble.

“Sorry!” You giggle, the lingering cold of the shower contrasting with the warm breeze on your skin as you step out, reaching for the towels Jimin has laid out on the grass. With a shared smile, you both quickly dry off, the urgency fueled by the anticipation of the day ahead, and eagerly slip into fresh clothes.

As the rest of the gang takes their turn in the makeshift shower, you all gather around to enjoy a quick meal before gearing up once more, ready to mount your horses and continue your journey.

You and Jimin reclaim the rear position, and you deliberately allow your horses to amble along, relishing the chance to intertwine your fingers while riding. His touch is reassuringly warm, his grip firm yet gentle, each calloused fingertip igniting a trail of desire along your skin, teasing your imagination with the countless ways he could use those hands to explore your body’s every curve and contour.

Despite the lingering soreness in your ass from the cattle muster, you eagerly swing onto Mikrokosmos’s back, feeling the rush of adrenaline as you urge her into a spirited gallop toward Bell Ranch.

As the relentless heat of summer refuses to bid farewell, the sun’s gentle embrace envelops your skin, warming you as Mikrokosmos dashes freely across the undulating hills, her hooves kicking up dust in her wake.

You guide Mikrokosmos into the yard with a sense of exhilaration, her powerful strides carrying you effortlessly forward. As you approach, your eyes fixate on Jimin, completely absorbed in his task within the barn where they store their heavy machinery. There he is, amidst the rustic charm, skillfully maneuvering the circular wood cutting machine wearing a white tank top and jeans, each motion a testament to his craftsmanship and dedication.

You rein in Mikrokosmos, bringing her to a graceful halt, and swiftly dismount, securing her reins to a nearby post. With purposeful steps, you make your way across the yard, drawn like a magnet to Jimin’s industrious figure within the barn’s dim confines.

You step into the barn, silently observing Jimin as he remains absorbed in his task, oblivious to your arrival. Beads of sweat glisten on his honey-toned skin, tracing a path down his taut muscles, each drop a testament to his exertion. His movements are fluid, almost mesmerizing, as he deftly handles the wood, cutting with precision and ease. With each motion, you find yourself drawn deeper into his world, captivated by the rhythm of his work and the raw strength he exudes. With a deft hand, he seizes a piece of wood, his movements graceful yet powerful as he guides it to the cutting blade. With a swift and practiced motion, he slices through the wood, the sound of the machine blending with the rhythm of his actions. Discarding the finished piece, he seamlessly transitions to the next, the cycle repeating in an entrancing dance of productivity and precision.

As you approach him, his focus shifts from the task at hand to your presence, his head lifting abruptly to meet your gaze. In an instant, his expression softens, a warm smile spreading across his face, like the sun breaking through clouds. With a click, he switches off the wood cutter, his attention now fully on you.

“Hi, babe,” he greets, his voice a soft melody that reaches you even before your arms encircle him. Drawing near, you feel the warmth of his embrace, pressing your cheek against his shoulder and collarbones, inhaling deeply, the musky scent of him enveloping you, stirring something deep within.

His tank top clings damply to his skin, evidence of his hard work, but you pay it no mind, only seeking to hold him closer against you, craving the comfort and intimacy of his embrace.

“Hi, love,” you whisper, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze, your heart fluttering at the sight of his deep, soulful brown eyes—fuck, you’ll never get enough of those. Each glance a magnetic pull, drawing you in deeper with every heartbeat.

He leans in, his lips tenderly meeting yours in a sweet, lingering kiss that ignites a fire within you, every touch of his breath against your skin sending shivers down your spine. As he pulls back ever so slightly, you let out a soft moan of contentment, the taste of him still lingering on your lips. With a gentle touch, he brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face, his eyes locking onto yours with a depth that speaks volumes without a single word.

“What are you doing here?” His voice carries a note of curiosity as he brushes away another stray lock of hair, eliciting a soft chuckle from you as his fingertips dance lightly across your skin, sending delightful tingles down your spine.

“I just came to see how you’re doing,” you tease, punctuating your words with a playful tongue poke, earning a smirk from him in return.

“You could have just called, you know,” he chuckles, stepping back from your embrace and reaching for another piece of wood, his grin playful yet warm, inviting you into his world of labor and laughter.

“But then I wouldn’t get to see you, dummy,” you retort, sticking your tongue out again, your playful banter punctuated by a mischievous grin. Jimin, with a smirk dancing on his lips, saunters over to you, his gaze locking onto yours, and as he nears, he moistens his lips in anticipation.

“Did you just call me ‘dummy’?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement, one eyebrow arching in playful disbelief as he stands mere inches from you, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, creating an intimate closeness that sends another shiver down your spine.

You nod your head, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes as you tease him further, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip in a playful gesture, daring him to respond.

He groans softly, his hands finding your hips before boldly trailing down your back, his fingers gripping your ass firmly. “Sweetheart, do I need to teach you a lesson on manners?” He murmurs into your ear, his warm breath sending delightful shivers down your spine, a rush of desire flooding through you, making your panties damp with lust. Fuck.

You bite down on your lip, attempting to stifle a moan, but it escapes nonetheless, betraying the intense desire coursing through you. Jimin’s chuckle only adds fuel to the fire, and as he withdraws from your trembling figure, you’re left practically quivering with need. Damn it, you want him so badly that your entire body feels like it’s on the verge of trembling apart.

“But not now. I’m working,” he adds, and you feel a wave of disappointment wash over you, visible even in the slight slump of your shoulders. When he notices, a chuckle escapes him, softening the blow of his refusal with his infectious laughter.

“I’m building a new shed to store more wood outside. You can help if you want, or I could teach you how to do it?” He offers, a glint of excitement in his eyes, eager to share his passion with you and maybe steal a few moments of closeness amidst the work.

You’ve never built anything like that, and the thought of handling power tools sends a thrill of nervous excitement down your spine. The challenge looms large, but so does the opportunity to learn and share this experience with Jimin. It’s a leap into the unknown, but one you’re willing to take.

“You don’t have to,” he reassures you, his focus shifting back to the piece of wood he’s positioned in front of the cutter. You observe intently as he maneuvers the machine with practiced precision, the rhythmic hum of the cutter filling the air, the noise is loud, but not deafening. With each measured movement, he effortlessly shapes the wood, a testament to his skill and familiarity with the task at hand. As the newly cut piece falls to the ground, he seamlessly transitions to the next, measuring and drawing a cutting line, and methodically repeating the process. Despite the noise, it's a symphony of craftsmanship, captivating you in its symmetrical dance of creation.

As you watch him work, a sense of admiration washes over you. His movements, though skilled, seem approachable, almost inviting. You find yourself considering the possibility of trying your hand at it too. After all, he did offer to show you the ropes, and the task appears deceptively simple. Perhaps it's time to step out of your comfort zone and give it a shot.

“I wanna try,” you announce as he reaches for another piece of wood. His smile widens, and with a playful glint in his eye, he retrieves something from his back pocket.

“Here, put these on,” he says, offering you a pair of light blue working gloves. You slip them on, feeling a sense of readiness as you prepare to tackle the task ahead, your hands now shielded from the rough wood.

With a gentle yet firm grip on your hips, he guides you to stand in front of him and positions you facing the wood cutting machine, strategically placed atop a trailer.

With his warm, perspiring body pressed against your back, your heart races at the proximity, urging you to concentrate. Keep your mind on the task at hand, you remind yourself, feeling the electric charge between you intensify with every passing moment. Fucking focus!

“See, I’ve already drawn the cutting line,” he explains, guiding your hands to rest firmly on either side of the wooden plank. His touch is reassuring, his voice steady as he ensures each step is understood. “Place your hands here and here,” he continues, his fingers gently aligning yours with precision, emphasizing the importance of proper positioning for a precise and level cut.

His warm breath tickles your neck, sending shivers down your spine, igniting a fiery desire within you. His closeness is intoxicating, drawing you further into the moment as he instructs you on the next steps. “Then,” he murmurs softly, his voice sending ripples of anticipation through you, “lift your right hand from the wood, place it on the machine, and push in those two buttons.”

You shoot him a quizzical glance, uncertain if you’re meant to activate the machine at this moment. His gaze meets yours, reassuring and confident, urging you to trust in the process.

“Go ahead,” he encourages, his voice a gentle nudge to embolden your actions. You tentatively raise your hand, fingers hovering over the buttons as you absorb his instructions. With a steady resolve, you press both buttons simultaneously, unleashing the machine’s mechanical symphony. The blade whirls into action with a powerful hum, its motion mirroring the adrenaline coursing through your veins. In that moment, you’re not just operating a machine; you're wielding a newfound sense of capability and strength. As you release the buttons, the machine obediently falls silent, echoing the ebb of your exhilaration.

“Wow, that was fun,” you exclaim, your voice infused with a newfound zest. The rush of operating the machine courses through your veins, leaving you feeling invigorated and empowered.

“Try cutting the wood then,” he whispers in your ear, his hands still gently resting on your hips. With a determined nod, you place your hand back on the machine’s handlebar, feeling a surge of confidence. You press the buttons to activate the machine, and then, with a steady hand, you guide the blade down into the piece of wood, slicing through it effortlessly.

Amidst the noisy whirl of the blade slicing through the wood, you maintain focus, feeling a thrill as the machine swiftly does its work. With unpracticed precision, you raise the blade back up, releasing the buttons as the machine powers down, leaving behind a cleanly cut piece of wood.

“I did it!” You exclaim triumphantly, spinning around, your heart dancing with the joy of your small victory. Jimin doesn’t hesitate; he pulls you close, his kiss both fervent and hungry, brimming with unbridled passion. His tongue intertwines with yours, igniting a fiery dance that sweeps you away, your body yielding to his tender embrace.

He then draws back, fixing you with an intense gaze that sends a surge of electricity through your veins. “Fuck. My girlfriend is hot,” he breathes out, his words laced with raw desire.

You chuckle softly, feeling the warmth of his lips pressing urgently against yours, his hands guiding you back against the trailer. With a gentle thud, the piece of wood falls to the ground behind you, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

“You’re distracting me,” he chuckles, his lips still grazing yours as he tries to steal more kisses, his desire evident in the urgency of his touch.

You chuckle, feeling lightheaded and dizzy with love, “My bad,” you reply, unable to suppress the grin spreading across your face.

You pull away from him, a spark of determination lighting up your eyes, “Mind if I give it another shot?”

He chuckles softly, stepping aside to let you take the lead. You position yourself in front of the machine, eager to try again. As you secure a new piece of wood, you reach for the ruler, a glint of determination in your eyes. “Any specific length for this one?”

“250 centimeters,” he replies, his hands finding their place on your hips once more, offering both guidance and support. With a pencil in hand, you prepare to mark the wood, a shared moment of collaboration and trust unfolding between you.

With meticulous care, you measure and mark the wood, ensuring precision with each stroke of the pencil. Placing the piece under the blade, aligning it precisely with the drawn line, you're poised for a flawless cut, a testament to your growing confidence and skill.

With a firm grip, you engage the machine, its hum filling the air as the blade descends upon the wood with controlled force. A surge of exhilaration courses through you, an electric thrill as you master the machinery. Discarding the severed wood, your gaze finds Jimin, his eyes reflecting admiration and pride in your newfound prowess.

His lips find yours again, igniting a fiery hunger that blazes between you. In the heat of the moment, your senses heighten, and you feel the undeniable urgency in his kiss. As you deepen the embrace, your attention is drawn to the subtle bulge pressing against his pants.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes flickering open with a mix of frustration and desire. A frustrated hiss escapes his lips as he runs a hand through his tousled hair, a telltale sign of his inner turmoil. “I can’t focus on work when you look this fucking sexy while handling power tools,” he admits, his voice laden with longing and a hint of exasperation.

You burst out laughing, unable to contain the warmth that floods your cheeks at his compliment. “Me? Sexy?” you tease, though his words ignite a flutter of excitement within you. Without hesitation, you pounce on him, straddling his waist, and eagerly capturing his lips in a passionate kiss, the intensity of your desire palpable in the air.

He embraces you fiercely, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that mirrors your own. Every touch, every kiss, ignites a fire within you, a burning desire that consumes your thoughts. You ache for him with an intensity that borders on desperation, fuck, you just want him so fucking bad.

“You know this is dangerous, right?” His words cut through the haze of desire, injecting a note of caution into the charged atmosphere. Confusion clouds your features as you meet his gaze, searching for understanding in the depths of his eyes.

“For me. Watching you work. It’s better if I work and you watch me. You can hand me wood,” his words carry a hint of playful warning, a reminder of the tantalizing allure between you, tempered by the practicality of safety. His touch, firm yet tender, ignites a playful spark as he teases, his fingers tracing the curve of your ass and giving it a soft squeeze, eliciting a laugh from deep within you.

You mull over his words, acknowledging the undeniable heat between you, the pulsing reminder of his erection against your pussy. It's a tantalizing distraction, one that could compromise the task at hand. Yet, a mischievous thought flits through your mind—perhaps a break wouldn’t hurt, a stolen moment to quench the fiery desire that simmers between you.

“Sounds like a good idea. But don’t you think you deserve a break?” You tease, puckering your lips and fluttering your lashes, a playful pout softening your features. His laughter ripples through the air, but beneath it, you sense his internal tug-of-war, caught between yielding to temptation and persevering with the task at hand.

“Babe, I really want to take a break, but I really need to get this done,” he confesses, his eyes holding a hint of regret, yet his smile remains as radiant as ever. Unable to resist, you lean in, your lips seeking solace in the warmth of his, a silent reassurance of your unwavering support amidst his obligations.

Somewhat disappointed, yet empathetic, you release a soft sigh. “I understand. I can always ravish you later. Let me lend a hand with the wood. Perhaps we’ll finish faster that way, right?” You offer with a playful grin, eager to ease his burden while secretly anticipating the reward awaiting you both.

“Yeah, thank you,” he murmurs appreciatively as you hop down from his waist, returning to your position behind Jimin to assist with the wood. A twinge of sadness pricks at your heart, knowing he’s pushing through his arousal, but you respect his decision nonetheless.

You two make a seamless team, with you swiftly grabbing pieces of wood for him, Jimin expertly measuring and cutting, and then passing the cut wood to you. This rhythmic dance continues until every plank is neatly sliced, a testament to your combined effort and harmony.

Exhaling with a mix of exhaustion and amusement, you reach for Jimin’s water bottle resting on a nearby bench, taking grateful swigs of the refreshing liquid. “Phew, this is hard work,” you chuckle, wiping the sweat from your brow as you catch your breath.

Jimin’s laughter resonates beside you, his eyes dancing with lust and amusement as he observes a few stray water droplets trickling down your throat, bypassing your eager lips.

“Now I get why you’re so muscular,” you remark with a playful chuckle, reaching out to give his taut biceps a playful squeeze.

His laughter fills the air, infectious and heartwarming, much like the man himself.

As the dust kicks up behind you, you’re grateful for Jimin’s company on this journey to the auction to buy new cattle. Though the cattle aren’t his, he’s by your side, sharing in the excitement and anticipation. You navigate the rented cattle truck together with Jimin at the wheel, the road stretching out before you.

“Do you know what kind of cattle you want to buy?” Jimin’s question cuts through the rumble of the truck’s engine, his eyes fixed ahead on the dusty road, but his attention fully on you.

“I’ve got this note from Jessi,” you confess with a chuckle, glancing at the scribbled instructions in your hand. “Honestly, I’m clueless about cattle, so I’m just sticking to this note.” As the trees blur past, a plume of smoke billows from the hood of the truck, and you shoot Jimin a concerned look. “Uh-oh. That can’t be good.”

The truck hiccups and sputters, its engine protesting with a throaty growl, while tendrils of smoke dance across the windshield, blurring your vision like ominous shadows creeping in.

Jimin’s frustration echoes in his groan as he runs a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling in the strands like threads of worry. “The engine’s overheating,” he mutters, his voice tight with annoyance, as if he’s grappling with the machine's stubborn defiance.

You pivot towards Jimin, urgency creasing your brow. “Can you fix it? We can’t afford to miss the auction,” you implore, the weight of the situation pressing down on your words like an anvil.

“I’ll check the radiator fluid once the engine cools down,” Jimin replies, his tone laced with frustration as he guides the truck to the roadside and switches off the engine.

“Shouldn’t we pop the hood or something? Let some steam out?” You suggest, recalling scenes from movies where characters dealt with overheating engines. You wonder why he’s just sitting there, doing nothing.

He shakes his head firmly. “No, that’s a bad idea. The steam can scald you; it’s scorching hot. We’ll wait for the engine to cool down, then we can safely pop the hood and take a look,” he explains, his tone laced with concern for your safety.

“How long should we wait then?” You ask, turning your head to face him fully, a tinge of frustration creeping into your voice. The urgency of reaching the auction on time weighs heavily on your mind, each passing second feeling like a missed opportunity.

“Hmm. About 15 to 30 minutes,” he responds, reclining in the seat, resigned to the unavoidable wait as there’s nothing else to do but watch the clock tick away, each passing minute feeling like an eternity.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and lean in closer to him. “I know what we can do while we wait,” you whisper seductively, your voice dripping with desire as you elongate your words, your eyes locking onto his with a mischievous glint, teasing him with a suggestive raise of your eyebrows.

He chuckles, his gaze already smoldering with desire as he licks his lips hungrily. Following suit, he unbuckles his seatbelt, his anticipation evident in the way his chest rises with each breath. Without hesitation, you climb over the center console, straddling his welcoming thighs. Settling onto one, you press your hands firmly onto his shoulders, locking eyes with him. With a subtle bite to your bottom lip, you release a soft moan, the heat between you palpable as you slowly roll your ass against his thigh.

He emits a low, primal grunt, his gaze a potent mix of adoration, love, and raw desire, his eyes already dilated to their fullest extent.

You press yourself against his thigh with increasing fervor, every movement accompanied by soft, needy sounds escaping your lips, lost in the sensation of seeking out friction and pleasure.

The sensation is exquisite, the fabric teasing your sensitive clit, igniting a primal need for more. Though you crave deeper intimacy, this slow burn is amazing, setting the stage for what’s to come. Your breaths grow ragged, consumed by desire as you lean in for a kiss. It’s a collision of passion, each touch lingering and heavy with longing. As you part for air, a glistening thread of saliva bridges the gap between you.

His gaze is a symphony of longing and adoration, a testament to his insatiable desire for you, mirrored in your own yearning for him. Each glance is a silent declaration of love— you can never get enough of each other.

You plunge into another fervent kiss, your lips melding with his as you continue to undulate your hips against his firm, commanding thigh. The sensation of his muscles flexing beneath you intensifies the already exquisite friction, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body. Fuck, this is heaven.

As you throw your head back in ecstasy, your breasts tantalizingly close to his face, a fervent cry escapes your lips, “Fuck, Jimin!”

His hands, once anchored on your hips, now explore the curves of your breasts, their warmth seeping through the fabric of your shirt. “Babe, you’re so hot,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire.

You moan unabashedly, surrendering to the urgent rhythm, each movement of your hips igniting a wildfire of sensation coursing through your body. With every grind against his thigh, you feel the tension coiling tighter within your core, a symphony of pleasure burning with each passionate roll.

You press your pussy down harder against his thigh, seeking deeper friction, every movement a testament to the raw desire pulsating between you. “Shit, Jimin,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need, “I love you.”

He chuckles softly, his eyes alight with a mix of amusement and adoration as he observes the desperation etched across your face, your lips bitten in fervent desire. With each moan escaping your lips, you seek solace on his thigh, yearning for release. He leans closer, his breath warm against your skin, and gently nips at the sensitive skin of your neck before soothing it with tender licks. Moving to your ear, he whispers in a voice husky with longing, “I love you too.”

As you grind against his thigh, he skillfully teases and caresses your breast, his touch igniting a fiery need within you. Each kiss is passionate, fervent, mirroring the intensity of your desire. Yet, despite the fervor, it’s not enough. You crave more, yearning for every sensation, every moment shared with him, consumed by an insatiable hunger for his touch.

With a flicker of determination, your fingers deftly navigate the clasp of your bra, releasing it with a satisfying click. Jimin’s eyes darken with desire as the fabric falls away, revealing the curves of your bare breasts. Eagerly, he pulls your bra down, his touch igniting sparks of electricity across your skin, before lifting your shirt to expose your naked form.

You tease him, pressing your breasts against his face, feeling the warmth of his breath as he exhales against your skin. With a bold move, he flicks his tongue out, tracing a delicate path along one of your erect nipples. The sensation sends a rush of heat coursing through your body, pooling at the bottom of your panties.

His lips envelop your nipple, creating a tantalizing sensation that ignites every nerve ending in your body. Meanwhile, his deft fingers caress and roll your other nipple, sending electric currents of pleasure coursing through you. The world around you blurs as desire consumes your senses, leaving you feeling feverish and desperate for more. Lost in the intoxicating haze of the moment, you grind your hips against his thigh, seeking greater friction and release. With a breathless moan, you call out his name, your voice laden with longing and desire.

“Jimin-ah!”

You feel so fucking wet and you can’t help but wonder if you’ve soaked through the denim of your pants. But in the heat of the moment, such concerns fade into insignificance, drowned out by the primal urge driving you to grind against him with increasing fervor. 

Jimin’s groan vibrates against your chest, igniting a firestorm of desire within you. With a primal cry, you throw your head back, surrendering to the overwhelming tide of lust threatening to consume you, its intensity nearly palpable in the charged air between you.

Your breaths come in erratic bursts, your voice strained with the intensity of your arousal. “I’m so close,” you gasp, the words escaping between ragged breaths like a desperate plea for release.

His lips part from your breast with a soft, wet sound, only to enclose around the other nipple, his warmth enveloping you in a delicious sensation. A high-pitched moan escapes your lips, the sound echoing in the confined space.

With every roll of your hips, the coil tightens, drawing you closer to the edge until it finally snaps, sending a surge of pleasure coursing through your body. 

As you press your core against his thigh, the warmth spreading, you feel the liquid of your orgasm staining your panties. Panting and frustrated, you huff, the intensity of the moment leaving you breathless and wanting more.

Jimin releases your breast, urgency in his movements as he dives in for a kiss, his hands eagerly pulling your body closer to his, seeking deeper connection and intimacy.

“You’re breathtaking, my love. Watching you lose yourself like that—it’s pure magic,” he whispers, his gaze locked with yours as you catch your breath, cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, a radiant glow emanating from your flushed skin.

With a playful grin, you trail your lips along his neck, leaving a mark of your passion on his warm skin. His laughter mixes with a soft hiss of pleasure, and when you draw back, a crimson imprint adorns his neck.

You lock eyes with him, your voice dropping to a seductive whisper, “Jimin, I want to suck your dick.”

He rakes a hand through his tousled hair, a mix of frustration and desire evident in his gaze. You, with your tempting proposition, ignite a fire within him that he struggles to contain. With a bitten lip, he observes as you gracefully lower yourself into the cabin of the truck, the anticipation palpable in the air. It’s so spacious, so you have no trouble fitting down there.

You watch with a hungered gaze as he spreads his thighs invitingly, a silent invitation you’re more than eager to accept. 

Your fingertips trace the contours of his thighs, feeling the tension beneath his skin, eliciting soft moans from his lips. Your eyes flicker downward, drawn irresistibly to the prominent bulge straining against his pants.

You tease him through the fabric, reveling in the way his body responds to your touch. With a sly grin playing on your lips, you deftly unbuckle his belt, eagerly anticipating the sight that lies beneath. As you unzip his pants, his form is revealed clad in sleek black boxers, igniting a primal desire within you. The hunger to taste him, to feel him against your tongue, intensifies with each passing moment, fueling your anticipation to devour him once more.

With a heated gaze, he eagerly lifts his hips, granting you easier access to unveil his eager cock. You swiftly guide both his pants and boxers down his strong thighs, all the way down to the floor of the truck.

You trace the contours of his scars with tender fingers, your voice barely above a whisper as you admire each mark etched into his skin. “Still so beautiful,” you murmur, your breath mingling with the heated air between you.

His dick springs to life, the head flushed red, proudly standing tall with veins tracing a map of desire on his creamy skin. You lick your lips in anticipation, locking eyes with him as you inch closer to his cock, your gaze ablaze with unmistakable lust.

You tease him with the tip of your tongue, while your hand wraps around the base of his dick. As your tongue makes contact with the sensitive head of his cock, a deep, guttural moan escapes his lips, his hands tangling in your hair, gripping you with urgency and desire.

With a lustful and mischievous glint in your eyes, you envelop him with your mouth, tracing circles around the sensitive head of his dick with your tongue. The taste of his precum teases your senses, urging you to take him deeper. Giving head isn’t usually your favorite, but there’s something undeniably alluring about Jimin’s cock—it’s not just his physical beauty, but the way he responds to your touch, igniting a fire within you that compels you to pleasure him with every ounce of your being.

You dive into your task with fervor, enveloping him with your warmth and intensity, all while maintaining an unwavering gaze that locks you in a fiery lust. His eyes, deep pools of desire, reflect back at you, almost black with longing, his breaths growing deep and quick as his fingers instinctively grasp at your hair, gently pulling you closer, urging you on in encouragement.

“Fuck. You’re so good, babe,” he hisses through gritted teeth as you create a delicious vacuum with your mouth, humming softly around him, each vibration sending electric waves down his spine, igniting a fire of pleasure that consumes him.

The sweet ache of his praise fuels you, igniting a fierce determination to please him even more, to push the boundaries of ecstasy and leave him breathless with desire.

With deft fingers, you caress his balls, feeling the twitch of his dick in your mouth, and god you love it. You love watching him like this.

With a satisfying pop, you release his dick, leaving Jimin breathless and utterly entranced as his gaze locks with yours, ablaze with an intensity that ignites your own desire. Your tongue darts out to moisten your lips, a tantalizing prelude to what's next as you eagerly plunge back down on his cock, lost in the electric rhythm of your desire.

With an insatiable hunger, you engulf him, channeling every ounce of your desire into each fervent suction, tracing delicate patterns with your tongue along his sensitive head, and on the slit, eliciting a symphony of shivers cascading down his body.

Despite the strain building in your jaw and the fatigue creeping into your muscles, your determination to please him fuels your every movement. 

You sense the telltale signs of his impending release, the subtle twitching of his muscles, the urgent grip on your hair. “I don’t want to come yet,” he pleads, his voice tinged with desperation. 

Responding to his plea, you halt your ministrations abruptly, withdrawing from him entirely, your tongue sweeping across your lips in anticipation of what’s to come.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” he pleads, his eyes ablaze with an intensity that mirrors your own desire. The raw hunger in his gaze ignites a primal longing within you, an ache that only he can satisfy. Fuck, that’s what you want too.

With a sense of urgency, you maneuver within the confines of the cattle truck, swiftly shedding your pants and panties, casting them aside in a rush of desire. 

“Fuck, Jimin, I want you to fuck me too,” you declare, your hands tenderly cradling his flushed cheeks as you settle back onto his lap, your pussy tantalizingly close to his cock.

You employ one hand to deftly guide his dick to your sobbing wet entrance, the anticipation sending shivers down your spine. With a deep breath, you lower yourself onto him, relishing the exquisite sensation of being filled as he too releases a throaty groan of ecstasy, captivated by the sight of you taking him in.

“Fuck,” you pant, your gaze fixated on the point where your bodies meld together, before shifting to meet Jimin’s gaze—his expression, a symphony of desire and ecstasy, ignites a primal hunger within you. Without hesitation, you plunge into a fervent kiss, pouring every ounce of longing and passion into the connection. As your lips mesh, you begin to undulate your hips, riding him with a rhythm born of pure sin, reveling in the exquisite sensation of his cock stretching you to the brink.

“You’re perfect, so good,” he pants, his words a raspy chorus of admiration and pleasure, his eyes tracing the elegant movements of your body with awe. “You’re taking me so well,” he adds, his voice strained with the overwhelming sensation of being consumed by your warm walls.

His praise reverberates through your core like a symphony, igniting every nerve ending and sending shivers of ecstasy down your spine. With each word, your inner walls contract around him, essentially hugging his dick tighter.

Your fingers trace the lines of his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt, as if mapping the landscape of his body. Gripping his pecs, you find stability in his strength, grounding yourself in the heat of the moment.

Your breath quickens as you trail kisses along his neck, each bite leaving its mark. His moans fuel your desire, igniting a primal need within you. As he thrusts up into you, your bodies synchronize in a dance of pleasure, even though you’re beginning to feel tired.

Your voice trails off, a whisper against his skin as fatigue begins to weigh on your limbs. You lean into his warmth, seeking solace in his embrace. “Jimin,” you murmur again, your breath mingling with his, a plea for rest and intimacy intertwined.

As his fingers trace gentle patterns on your hips, you feel his warm breath against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. 

“What do you need, baby?” he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody in the quiet intimacy of the moment, his words a promise of comfort and understanding.

You lock eyes with him, your gaze filled with raw desire and an unmistakable urgency. “I want you to fuck me,” you confess, your voice laced with a mixture of longing and anticipation, your words a plea for him to consume you completely with his passion and desire.

A devilish smirk graces his lips as his hand trails up your spine, sending shivers of anticipation down your body. 

“I am, baby,” he murmurs huskily, his voice dripping with promise, igniting a fire of desire that consumes you entirely.

You melt into his embrace, the heat of the moment fueling your desire. “Fuck me harder,” you breathe against his lips, your voice a sultry whisper laced with determination. “I won’t break.”

His chuckle sends a delicious shiver down your spine, the vibration echoing in every fiber of your being, igniting a wildfire of desire within you.

“Shit, okay,” he breathes, his voice a husky whisper that stirs the air around you. With a firm grip on your hips, he guides you down onto him, then surges up, driving into you with an intensity that steals your breath away. A deep, primal moan tears from your lips as he plunges deep inside, igniting a frenzy of sensation that leaves you gasping for more.

He continues, each powerful thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you, your head nestled against his shoulder as you surrender to the intoxicating rhythm of his movements.

He breathes heavily against your ear, his voice a husky whisper as he drives into you with unrelenting force, each thrust igniting a new wave of ecstasy. 

“Like this?” He asks, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

“Fuck, yes!” You plead, your voice a needy whisper against his skin, your nails digging into his back as you arch into his every thrust.

With a low chuckle that resonates through your intertwined bodies, he drives into you with unrestrained fervor, each powerful thrust a testament to his primal desire, relishing the intoxicating blend of your scent and the tight embrace of your walls.

You’re lost in the moment, engulfed by the overwhelming pleasure he brings, his presence inside you sending ripples of ecstasy through every fiber of your being. The sensation of his cock sliding against your walls is pure bliss, akin to the smooth caress of silk.

As he continues to delve deep into you, each thrust ignites a wildfire of sensations, intensifying the pleasure building within. With each rhythmic motion, your body responds eagerly, the telltale signs of an impending climax looming ever closer.

With a longing gaze, you tilt your head, locking eyes with him in a silent exchange of desire. Without hesitation, you immerse yourself in another passionate kiss. The taste of him floods your senses, a tantalizing blend of minty freshness and the delicate essence of roses, leaving you intoxicated with longing.

“Jimin,” you gasp, unable to contain the impending wave of pleasure, “I’m gonna come.” His every thrust plunges you into a depth of sensation that sends shivers coursing through your entire being, curling your toes in exquisite anticipation.

“Come on my dick, baby,” Jimin’s voice rumbles with urgency, sending a surge of desire through your veins. With a primal hunger, he lifts your shirt, exposing your breasts again, and his mouth envelops your nipple, igniting a fiery response deep within you. 

As you clench around him, a symphony of sensations reverberates through your core, eliciting a guttural groan from deep within his chest.

With a few more primal thrusts into your eager pussy, you finally surrender to the electric ecstasy, releasing around him in a deluge of passion. Your liquid coats his dick, creating a slick and intoxicating friction that amplifies the intensity of the feeling of him inside you. The rhythmic collision of skin on skin fills the confined space of the truck, echoing like a symphony of desire. As the air thickens with raw anticipation, you find yourself gasping for breath.

As your body succumbs to the aftershocks of your orgasm, he continues his primal rhythm, holding you firmly by your hips, anchoring you to his powerful embrace even as you collapse against his unyielding frame.

“So fucking pretty,” his husky voice whispers in your ear, igniting a cascade of tingles down your spine, as you involuntarily clench around him once more, teetering on the edge of overstimulation from his intoxicating praise and relentless ministrations.

He releases your breasts, his lips finding solace on your neck, sinking into your flesh with a gentle bite, followed by the tender caress of his tongue. A guttural moan of his name escapes your lips, a symphony of pleasure and desire echoing in the confined space.

“I want you to fill me up, Jimin,” you whisper into his neck, your voice a delicate plea amid the haze of passion and exhaustion.

He responds with a low, guttural hum beneath you, driving into you with an intensity that surpasses anything before, each thrust echoing with a primal need, punctuated by his passionate moans.

You sense his breath quickening, a crescendo of desire matching the urgency of his thrusts. Feeling his movements intensify, you summon your last reserves of energy, rising to meet him with a determination born of desire. As you lock lips once more, then trail kisses down his neck, sinking your teeth in gently, he responds with a sharp hiss, a symphony of passion between you.

“Fuck!” His voice breaks with ecstasy as he calls out your name, surrendering to the waves of pleasure crashing over him. With each pulse of his release, he fills you with his warm seed, your teeth sinking into his neck as you share in his ecstasy. The sensation of him spilling into you sends shivers of satisfaction through your body, fulfilling a craving you’d longed for.

You both pant heavily, the truck filled with the sound of your ragged breaths as you continue to move yourself on him, savoring every lingering tremor of his climax. His spent dick still twitches inside you, a testament to the intensity of his release, fueling your desire to prolong the shared ecstasy.

“Jimin—,” you gasp out his name, feeling the weight of his presence beneath you as you settle onto him, completely immobile, savoring the intimate connection. He responds with a low moan, his lips finding your cheek in a tender kiss, his hand tracing soothing circles down your spine, reassuring and comforting.

Gradually, you feel him soften inside you, a gentle ebb of warmth as his essence melds with yours, mingling intimately. Sensations ripple through you as your own liquid trickles down, probably trailing down to his balls and the seat.

He catches his breath, his gaze lingering on your satisfied expression before diving in to claim your lips. The kiss is fervent, filled with a hunger born from the depths of desire.

You draw back, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you behold the canvas of his neck, now adorned with the marks of your affection.

His chuckle mingles with the remnants of heavy breaths, a playful glint in his eyes as he meets your gaze, “What’s so amusing?”

“You’re a canvas of desire,” you murmur, tracing the love marks with your fingertips, a hint of mischief dancing in your eyes, “And I couldn’t resist leaving my mark.”

But you feel sorry, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Yours isn't any different, and I adore every mark you’ve left on me,” he reassures, his words wrapped in warmth as he leans in for another passionate kiss, sealing your love with unspoken desire.

You feel how he’s gone completely soft inside you and you recognize the need to return to reality — to the road ahead or the ailing truck waiting for attention. With a mixture of reluctance and responsibility, you extricate yourself from his embrace, retrieving your garments and draping them over your sated form before making your way back to your seat.

As Jimin hastily pulls up his boxers and pants, the urgency of the moment seems to dissipate, replaced by a shared gaze out the window. The swirling plumes of smoke that had once billowed ominously from the truck’s hood have now vanished, leaving behind a sense of relief.

“I’ll take a look at the engine,” he declares, leaping down from the truck with a determined air, muscles flexing as he pops open the hood. With practiced hands, he swiftly identifies the issue before returning to the cabin, his movements purposeful as he rummages for supplies. “It’s low on radiator fluid,” he announces upon finding the elusive bottle tucked behind the seats. Stepping back outside, he replenishes the tank with focused precision before securing the hood once more. Finally, he re-enters the truck, his expression a mix of satisfaction and determination.

“This should be enough to get us to the auction, then we’ll take it to a mechanic when we get home,” he reassures you with a warm smile, his eyes reflecting a mix of determination and affection as he turns the key in the ignition, the engine purring to life under his expert touch.

“Cool,” you say, a smile playing on your lips as your hand finds purchase on his sturdy thigh, the warmth of his skin beneath your touch reassuring as he navigates the road ahead.

Jimin and Jungkook have been toiling away in their kitchen, conjuring up a tantalizing feast for you and your sister. As the aroma of their culinary efforts wafts through the air, you can’t help but feel a surge of anticipation. So far, this double date is shaping up to be quite the culinary adventure, you chuckle to yourself, eager to see what delights await.

You find yourself perched comfortably in a chair, positioned strategically in the heart of the bustling kitchen. From this vantage point, you observe with growing admiration as the brothers, Jimin and Jungkook, seamlessly collaborate, their movements synchronized like a well-rehearsed dance. Across from you sits Jessi, a fellow spectator to this culinary spectacle. Both Jimin and Jungkook insist that you take a seat and unwind, assuring you that they have everything under control as they labor over the stove, intent on crafting a memorable dinner for all.

Silence reigns in the kitchen, broken only by the rhythmic sounds of knives slicing through crisp vegetables, the gentle hiss of steam rising from pots on the stove, the tantalizing aroma of spices mingling in the air. With each passing moment, the symphony of culinary creation crescendos, from the sizzle of something tantalizing on the grill to the comforting hum of the oven at work. The scent wafting through the kitchen is nothing short of intoxicating, teasing your senses and igniting a fierce hunger within you. Anticipation mounts as you eagerly await the unveiling of the culinary masterpiece being crafted before your eyes, your stomach growling in eager agreement.

“Almost done, you can set up the table,” Jimin’s voice cuts through the bustling kitchen, the heat from the stove causing beads of sweat to glisten on his brow like tiny jewels. With determination etched on his face, he expertly tends to the simmering pots, his culinary prowess on full display. Acknowledging his command, you exchange a nod, your eyes alight with excitement as you and your sister swiftly move to prepare the table, gathering plates, glasses, and utensils with purposeful efficiency. Each clink of silverware against porcelain resonates with anticipation, a prelude to the feast that awaits.

As Jimin and Jungkook enter the room bearing platters of steaming, aromatic dishes, your anticipation peaks, heightened by the mouthwatering scents wafting from the kitchen. With the table meticulously set, every place arranged with care, you eagerly settle into your seat, the air buzzing with the promise of culinary delights. 

You find yourself seated next to your sister, a comforting presence by your side as you engage in this delightful double date. Across the table, Jimin’s warm gaze meets yours, his eyes sparkling with shared excitement for the evening ahead. Jungkook’s presence beside your sister adds to the lively atmosphere, his easy going demeanor balancing the dynamic of the group.

You dine in a symphony of flavors, the tantalizing aromas wafting from the dishes crafted by the skilled hands of Jimin and Jungkook. Conversation takes a backseat to the feast laid before you, each bite a delicious revelation that dances on your taste buds. With every savory morsel, you find yourself drawn deeper into the culinary masterpiece, savoring each moment of culinary bliss crafted by the talented duo.

As the final bite of the delectable meal settles in your stomach, a satisfying fullness envelops you, as if the flavors will linger within you for days to come. With meticulous care, Jungkook and Jimin sweep away the remnants of the feast, gracefully tidying the table and expertly storing the remaining culinary treasures in containers, preserving the essence of the unforgettable meal they’ve crafted.

With a refreshing clink of glass, Jimin hands you a cold beer, his eyes sparkling with warmth as you exchange smiles. As you settle back into your seats at the table, the chilled beverages offer a welcome respite, inviting a relaxed atmosphere to linger a little longer in the company of good food and even better company.

“So how is it going with you and Jimin?” Jungkook’s question hangs in the air, laden with curiosity and a hint of playful mischief. You catch Jimin's gaze briefly before responding, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, the sound blending seamlessly with the warmth of the moment. Jimin’s hands reach out across the table, seeking yours, and as your fingers intertwine, a silent exchange of affection passes between you. 

“Absolutely perfect,” you murmur, your gaze locking with his in a shared understanding that transcends words.

With a tender expression, Jimin’s lips curve into a gentle smile, radiating warmth that fills the room. In response, you tighten your grip on his hand, fingers intertwining in a silent promise of support and affection.

Turning your attention to Jungkook, you inquire with genuine curiosity, “And how about you? Is it getting serious between you two?”

Your sister’s laughter dances beside you, punctuating the air with warmth, while Jungkook’s sudden blush betrays a hidden truth, his gaze averted as though guarding a secret. It’s a departure from his usual confident demeanor. Eventually, it’s your sister who breaks the silence, her voice brimming with happiness, “It definitely is.”

It warms your heart to hear their confirmation. As you take a sip of your beer, you catch Jimin’s gaze fixed on you, a silent question lingering in his eyes. There’s a tension in the air, a question begging to be asked, yet he remains silent, his thoughts concealed behind an enigmatic expression.

“Is there something on my face, babe?” You inquire playfully, your eyes meeting your boyfriend’s as he responds with a gentle chuckle.

“Ah, no. I was just thinking, since Kookie is heading over to your sister’s place, would you like to sleep over tonight?” he asks, shooting a playful scolding glance at Jungkook, who finally seems to snap out of whatever reverie had held him before.

He laughs heartily, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Yeah. We won’t disturb you!”

A flush of warmth spreads across your cheeks as you chuckle softly. “I’d absolutely love that, Jimin.”

His smile widens, his eyes reflecting the depth of his love for you.

You savor the last sip of your beer, relishing the cold it brings as you enjoy the company of your boyfriend, Jungkook, and your sister. Laughter fills the room, weaving through conversations about everything under the sun. Surprisingly, this double date has been more than enjoyable—it’s been a blast. Yet, as the evening draws to a close and farewells are exchanged, anticipation bubbles within you. You can hardly wait to slip into Jimin’s embrace, where the night holds promises of passionate lovemaking until dawn.

Honestly, he really wanted to go to the city, because his girl deserves the best. Yet, here he is, strolling through the quaint streets of the local town, drawn to a shop unknown to him until now. He has never visited this shop before, but now that he has you, everything feels different, better— well, you’ve changed him, made him remember who he is, and now that you’re finally back where you belong, his soul feels complete. The depth of his love for you knows no bounds, a force so powerful it compels him to stand within the walls of the local jewelry store, seeking a symbol of eternity to adorn you with.

Navigating the unfamiliar terrain of the store, he feels like a lost puppy amidst a sea of glittering treasures. Just as he’s pondering his next move, the store lady, with an air of gentle curiosity, approaches him, her presence a beacon of guidance in this maze of possibilities. “Do you need any assistance?” she asks, her voice a soothing melody in the otherwise silent space.

“Yes,” he responds with a chuckle, a nervous energy dancing in his movements as he scratches his head, “I’m looking for the perfect ring for my girlfriend.”

The lady’s smile warms her entire face, her eyes sparkling with understanding. “Ah, of course,” she says gently, “I’d be delighted to assist you in finding the perfect ring for your girlfriend.”

She leads him to the grand displays adorned with a dazzling array of jewelry: rings of all styles, necklaces that shimmer like moonlit waves, earrings that sparkle like stars, and even tiaras fit for a queen.

As he gazes at the stunning array of jewelry, a wave of uncertainty washes over him. Panic begins to gnaw at his insides. Fuck, he realizes he doesn’t know your preferences, and the pressure mounts with each passing second.

“Do you know what she likes?” The lady asks, her voice gentle and understanding. He shakes his head, his brows knit with worry, feeling a pang of guilt for not knowing your preferences.

“You could always go with something classic,” she suggests, her fingers delicately gliding over the gleaming display of timeless engagement rings, each one whispering tales of everlasting love and devotion.

He doesn’t like what he sees; they seem way too classic and basic for you. The ring needs to encapsulate the depth of his undying love for you, to be as unique and extraordinary as you are to him. His gaze wanders across the display until something glimmers and grabs hold of his heartstrings.

A purple gem—amethyst, glinting in the store light, captivating him with its ethereal beauty. 

That’s it. 

That’s the one. 

It feels almost magnetic, drawing him in, as if it's meant for you and you alone. The ring, delicate yet radiant, adorned with a single purple gem set in gold, seems to whisper your name. He’s certain you'll adore it. With unwavering determination, he points to the ring and declares, “That one.”

The lady’s smile widens as she retrieves a key from her pocket, unlocking the front of the glass display with a sense of excitement. “Do you know her ring size?” she asks, her voice brimming with anticipation.

As the store lady hands him the ring, he hears the gentle ding of the door, but he doesn't bother to turn around, his attention fully captured by the gleaming piece in his hand. Taking the ring delicately between his fingers, he turns it around, studying every detail with a mix of admiration and reverence. 

It’s perfect. Just like you.

“Yeah,” he nods, retrieving a slip of paper from his pocket, on which a number is scrawled hastily. He hands it over to the store lady, a silent plea evident in his eyes.

She takes the slip of paper from him, her eyes scanning the number with a gentle smile. “We have this ring in her size out back, just a moment,” she assures him, disappearing momentarily into the depths of the store.

As he waits for the lady to retrieve the ring, he finds himself drawn deeper into the mesmerizing allure of the jewelry before him. Each facet of the ring seems to hold a story untold, its sparkle casting a spell that captivates his senses. Lost in contemplation, he feels a presence at his side, and without turning, he subtly shifts to make room, inviting the stranger to share in the enchantment of the display.

“Jimin?” Jessi’s voice cuts through the air, almost startling him as he stands there, the ring gleaming between his fingertips. Her wide-eyed astonishment mirrors his own, catching him off guard in the midst of his silent contemplation.

“What are you doing here?” The simultaneous inquiry from both him and Jessi fills the air, followed by a burst of laughter that breaks the tension.

“I’m picking up my earring that broke some weeks ago, you?” Jessi’s voice carries a curious undertone, her gaze still fixed on his face, searching for answers.

As her gaze travels downward and lands on the ring in his hand, Jessi’s eyes soften, and she tilts her head ever so slightly. “Is that for my sister?” She asks, her voice filled with a mixture of curiosity and warmth, as if she already knows the answer but wants to hear it from him.

Just as the conversation with Jessi begins to deepen, the store lady returns, cradling a wooden box in her hands. “Here it is,” she announces, breaking the momentary silence with a gentle smile.

As the store lady passes the box to him, retrieving the ring from his grasp, her gaze flits between him and Jessi, a hint of curiosity flickering in her eyes, puzzled.

Jimin gingerly opens the box, unveiling a ring even more captivating than the one he had admired earlier in the display. Jessi leans in, her curiosity piqued, to steal a glance at the exquisite piece nestled within. “It’s stunning,” she murmurs, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

Jimin’s voice carries a hint of uncertainty as he gazes at the ring, seeking reassurance from Jessi. “Do you think she’ll love it?” he asks, his nerves palpable despite his conviction that this ring is the perfect choice.

Jessi’s voice is filled with unwavering certainty as she nods emphatically. “Jimin, trust me. She’ll absolutely love it.”

A sense of urgency colors Jimin’s voice as he pivots to address Jessi directly, his eyes pleading for her understanding. “Promise me, Jess. You can’t breathe a word of this to your sister, okay?”

Her laughter dances in the air, but her promise is firm, wrapped in the sincerity of her smile. “I won’t say a thing,” she assures, her eyes glinting with mischief and excitement.

With anticipation coursing through his veins, he settles the transaction with the store lady, the weight of the ring box in his hand a tangible reminder of his love and commitment. Now, all that’s left is to orchestrate the perfect moment to present it to you, a moment he imagines with fervent hope and longing.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

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[laundrybiscuits]

(soulmates AU: Part 1 | Part 2)

“You know,” says Jonathan. “Nancy’s parents are soulmates.”

Steve hadn’t known that, but he knows it’s supposed to run in families. Even though it’s also pretty normal for soulmarks to crop up for no reason anyone can tell, his own had been a big surprise, because everyone knows that John and Linda Harrington aren’t soulmates.

The night after his soulmark had appeared, he’d woken up around midnight. He couldn’t figure out what had woken him up for a while, but as he lay there in the dark, he could hear his dad’s voice coming up through the floors. His mom and dad must have been in the study, right below Steve’s bedroom, and his dad must’ve been pretty worked up by that point to be that loud. 

For god’s sake, John, Steve’s mom had hissed, quieter but still clear enough in the dead suburban night. He’s the spitting image of you. I don’t know what kind of proof you—

John and Linda Harrington aren’t soulmates. They can’t ever really relax around each other, because there’s no guarantee that something better won’t come along for either of them, and they both know it. 

Steve had tilted his own wrist so he could see the pretty, confident hand of a girl he’d never met, and felt so glad that he’d never have to worry like that.

“Must be nice,” is all he says to Jonathan, now.

“Sure, maybe,” says Jonathan. “Don’t know if she sees it that way.”

He asks Robin about her parents later. He’s only met Mr. and Mrs. Buckley a couple times, but they seem to get along okay.

Robin makes a face. “God, they’re so weird about it. They never got any real names—like, names never appeared by themselves, but they decided to get tattoos when they got married. The artist had them sign like five million disclaimer forms and still did it in red ink so nobody would get it confused for the real thing, but they don’t even care. It’s embarrassing.” 

“Yeah,” Steve says. 

He thinks about it later, though, and decides it doesn’t seem all that embarrassing to him. It’s not as good as a real name, of course, but maybe it’s the next best thing. At least it’s some kind of permanent mark, so even if things go south, you’ll always have part of that person as part of you too. The kind of thing that can’t be erased, just covered over.

———

Steve doesn’t ask about the blob on Eddie’s wrist. Not asking basically becomes a hobby for him. Steve drops by after going to see Max two or three times a week, and he doesn’t ask. Steve helps Wayne load Eddie into the car to the brand new Nancy-approved duplex, and he doesn’t ask. Steve stops by with a casserole from the Hendersons, and he stays to help eat it, and he doesn’t ask. 

Finally, Eddie chucks a potato chip at the side of Steve’s face and groans, “Just fucking ask, dude.”

Steve eats the potato chip, even though it’s sour cream and onion, and says unconvincingly: “Ask what?”

Eddie tips his head back over the arm of the couch and levels an unimpressed stare at Steve.

“Okay, fine,” Steve relents. “Tell me about your stupid name, I guess. Do I know her?”

Eddie shrugs. “Don’t know. Doesn’t matter. I knew pretty early on that I didn’t want anything to do with that shit, so I covered it up the day I got it. If I could’ve stopped myself from seeing anything at all, I would’ve.”

“Wait, you covered it up? Like, did the tattoo yourself?”

“Sure. I mean, I had to fix it up later, it was my first stick-and-poke and it was pretty rough. For a while, you could still kinda make out most of the letters. Hurt like a bitch, though.”

“Jesus.” Steve leans back on his elbows, sprawling out over the rug. “I don’t get you at all, man.”

Eddie hums a little, drums his fingertips over his own jaw. 

“What do you want?” he says abruptly. “Like, in life. Generally. What is it that Steve Harrington actually wants from the future?”

Steve puts another gross sour cream potato chip on his tongue and crunches down. 

“Shit, I dunno. What does anyone want? A house, a family. The usual stuff.”

Eddie taps his nose with one bony index finger and jabs the other at Steve. “Bullseye, right there. The difference between you and me.”

“What, you don’t want any of that? Too normal for you?” Steve snorts. 

Eddie groans and rolls sideways off the couch, landing on the rug next to Steve. He props himself up on his elbows. “It’s not about the actual stuff, Harrington. House and family doesn’t…” He hesitates, ducking his head so his hair tumbles over his face a little. “It doesn’t actually sound so bad to me, y’know? But I’d throw myself off a fucking cliff before I answered a question like that with what does anyone want.”

“Okay, if you’re so super-evolved or whatever, what does Eddie Munson want?”

Eddie grins up at Steve. It’s a little lopsided because of the shiny pink scar on his cheek. It’ll probably be lopsided for the rest of his life. Even back when they’d been making plans to buy guns and steal an RV, Steve remembers Eddie’s smile looking just plain happy, like a kid. Now it’ll always look like he’s got a secret he isn’t telling you.

“So, so many things,” says Eddie. “Most of all, though, Eddie Munson wants the freedom to make his own mistakes.”

Steve still doesn’t get it, but he’s starting to think there’s a lot of things he doesn’t really get about how other people see soulmarks. Most people seem to think just like Steve does, of course; there wouldn’t be so many songs and movies and stuff about it otherwise. 

Talking to Eddie like this, though, is starting to make Steve feel like he's staring out into the dark, knowing there's something else beyond the porchlights but not even being able to see the shape of it. 

He leans back, closing his eyes. Some guitar is wailing away from the boombox under the kind of vocals that always set Steve on edge; they’re too yelping and strained, like you can hear the singer’s vocal cords getting wrecked in real time as he yowls: man you’re dying—for what you’ve lost but never had—

It’s annoying, that’s all.

[nattinatalia]

Jack Harlow x Reader : Instagram AU

Read this first 👉🏻 🩵

A/N : I changed the lyrics from “Is that Ight” so it can fit my story!!!!!!

Liked by jackharlow, urbanwyatt, neelamthadhani, djdrama, claybornharlow, and 6,456,976 others

yourusername Celebrating my husbands new album. Prepare to be sick of me because this will be the only thing I’ll be listening to all year long.

View all 1,500 comments

neelamthadhani 🙌🏼🥳

jackharlow I love you 😘

jackharlow All the cards stacked against her, but she learning how to deal 🤞🏼

jackandynaremyparents 🥺🥺🥺

urbanwyatt 🎥 by me 😏

yourusername Always 🙌🏼 thank you Urb.

yourbestiename Bitch you look hot!!!!!! Wish I was there!!!!! But congratulations to your hubby, love the album, he did amazing.

yourusername Miss youuu, & thank you babe, I’ll let him know 😘

•

Liked by yourusername, urbanwyatt, russ, g_eazy, djdrama, yourbestiename, and 9,355,876 others

jackharlow And I’m cumming in my girl like I’m sterile.

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yourusername 🙈 🙈 🤭🤭🤭 Baby Harlow number 2 loading…..

urbanwyatt huh?

claybornharlow WAIT WHAT????

cozane UNCLE TWO TIMES!!!!

urbanwyatt No way this is how we’re finding out that y/n is pregnant. There’s no way!!!

neelamthadhani She was drinking tonight idiots, so obviously not pregnant.

yourusername 😭😭😭😭 They’re a little slow, but that’s okay.

jackharlow 🤦🏼‍♂️

user Not the security looking at y/n like that 🤣

yourusername Not at me lol, my cousin was behind us acting a fool 😂 but we love her.

nemoachida You two clean up nice 🥶

yourcousinname Thank you for inviting me tonight. Had a blast. Jack, this album is everything and more!!!!!

•

Liked by jackharlow, claybornharlow, yourbestiename, g_eazy, badbunnypr, and 2,567,976 others

yourusername “10 children and 1 wife, That’s how I wanna live my life, is that Ight?” Well you better because I’m not letting you leave anytime soon, or ever!!!!!! 1 down 9 to go I guess 🤭🤭🤭😏😏😏😏

View all 8,346,876 others

jackharlow 😂😂😂😂 I knew you were going to call me out on this one!!!!

yourusername 👀 You know me too well.

claybornharlow 10 Harlow kids? Damn I’m not ready to be uncle to ten kids!!!!!!!

jackharlow You’ll have time to get used to it.

druski Mia is a menace enough, imagine 9 more of her????

jackharlow My little girl is nothing but nice, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.

neelamthadhani I knew that line was for you 🙌🏼

yourusername I mean for who else would it be for?????? 🤔

jackharlow 🫣🫣🫣🫣

nemoachida 💀💀💀💀💀

•

Liked by jackharlow, claybornharlow, djdrama, yourbestiename, badbunnypr, and 7,976,345 others

yourusername JACKMAN OUT NOW!!!!!!!!!! I feel like everyday you amaze me, your craft and how you handle everything around you amazes me. We listened to the album in our bed, just us two. The world couldn’t prepare me for the wave of emotions that would come crushing down on me. Baby, you deserve every bit of of happiness, success and praise. After we listened to it, I asked you if it was okay for me to listen to it on my own. I can’t say what I feel right now, all I know is that I promise you to hold you extra tight, to love you the way you deserve to be loved. If I haven’t said it enough, I’M SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU!!!!!!!!!! I knew it, I knew the world wasn’t ready for Jackman, because quite frankly, I don’t think I was either! I LOVE YOUUUUU 🩵🩵🩵🩵

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jackharlow Babe 🥺

jackharlow I fucking love you so much. Always thankful for having you in my life. The nonstop support and love from you, doesn’t go unnoticed. Without a doubt, the love of my life, my soulmate.

yourusername 🥺🥺🥺 Stop making me cry.

druski Seriously stop already, seeing her cry at the release party last night was enough. I had to order a box of tissues for her ass.

yourusername Leave me alone. But also thanks for the tissues 🤧

yourbestiename Me when??? 🥺🥺🥺🥺

urbanwyatt 👀

neelamthadhani Your guys love story is my favorite.

yourusername Mine too 😊💜

allabouttheharlows 🥺 My parents are the cutest ever!!!!!

claybornharlow 🩶

applemusic 🔥 🔥

djdrama You were right, the world wasn’t ready!!!!!!

•

TAG LIST

@heavyhitterheaux @harlowsbby @arination99 @cmalass @jackharloww @minkookie95 @deannaard @jacksmoviestar @harlowcomehome @fdl305 @httpkoylinnn @xoxokiaraaxoxo @hoodharlow @automaticpeachsong @amethyst09 @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @stefansalvatoresgf @violetdreamsworld @carma-fanficaddict @jasminxts @itsaaliyah2 @itsyagirljaz @harrycanyonmoonn @neon-lights-and-glitter @awhore4moree

[bbyseok]

at first sight? — GOJO SATORU [TEASER]

pairing: gojo satoru x gn!reader

word count: TBA (looking to be around 5k-ish??)

RELEASE DATE: NOW POSTED

content: soulmate au, gender neutral reader, minimal use of they/them pronouns for reader, but gender is not specified, sorcerer reader, fluff, angst with a happy ending, brief swearing/explicit language, implied satosugu as past soulmates: can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic, fic takes place after jjk 0 but before the show starts

analysis: this is a world filled not only with curses, but soulmates too—in which you know someone is your soulmate when you first make eye contact with them. but for your case, things can get a bit complicated when someone is wearing a blindfold.

here, in this universe, you can tell that someone is your soulmate by simply looking at them. so with that, the saying of “love at first sight” is actually pretty accurate here. you see them for the very first time and barely know the person and yet, somehow, they’re the one you’re destined to be with.

with that, you’d think it’d be pretty common for two random people to run into each other while crossing the street or something and bam! suddenly you’ve found the supposed love of your life!

and you? well, for you, that hasn’t happened yet.

to be fair, it’s not like you’re actively trying to look for your soulmate. handling curses as a jujutsu sorcerer is difficult enough. (maybe you’ll run into them one day after saving them from a curse or something. how romantic.)

it’s better to leave it up to fate. it’s fate who decided your pairing anyway, right?

your transfer to jujutsu tech had been fairly smooth. after being stationed in kyoto for a while, tokyo was a nice change of pace.

coincidentally, you had been out of the country during the incident known as the night parade of a thousand demons. a scary event that proved the threat of curse users to be formidable.

because of that, your decision to transfer to tokyo seemed like the right thing to do. and so far, it’s been decent.

it’s a nice change of scenery. the students are aspiring; while maki and megumi aren’t the friendliest, they’re warming up to you. toge and panda are gradually improving.

nanami’s pessimistic outlook on jujutsu society and shoko’s overall unenthusiastic demeanor are certainly interesting for the most part, but your coworkers are pleasant to be around.

well. except for one.

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

gojo satoru knows that you are his soulmate. he has indeed known this fact right from the very start, ever since your first meeting.

even with his blindfold on, he could see your own eyes before him. his six eyes can see everything. the thing is.. he didn’t know he could have another soulmate.

his situation with geto suguru is something he doesn’t talk about with anyone. maybe shoko at times, but even then, it’s rare. it’s not that he doesn’t want to, but it’s pretty hard to talk about.

after suguru defected, gojo could still obviously feel their bond. even though they were no longer together as the strongest duo, did it really matter when their souls were still connected to one another? it was a factor that played in avoiding (and perhaps meeting up with) each other as the years went by.

satoru felt their bond die that day after the events with okkotsu and rika. and it had frightened him. that lingering presence of the bond was no longer there.

so imagine his surprise when he sees you.

a new sorcerer in kyoto, now transferred to tokyo. normally, gojo doesn’t seek out the new recruits, but yaga had dragged him over regardless. besides, he might as well get to know his possible assistant teacher that would be helping him out with the new first years.

“i guess i can check out some new faces,” he relented with a sigh, adjusting his blindfold and looking to the side as yaga’s steps slowed as they approached you.

gojo rolled his eyes–not that you’d see it anyway–as yaga introduced you with your name and your sorcerer grade. he stopped to stand next to the principal.

you extended your hand to offer a handshake, and gojo finally turned his head.

that feeling as his gaze fell upon yours beneath the blindfold was familiar—frighteningly so—and unfamiliar at the same time. as if he could breathe for the first time in ages. your eyes are unaware, but they’re so revealing to him.

satoru stuttered in his movements, reluctantly taking your hand. the skin that touched yours felt like it was on fire. he briefly held on to see if you felt it too.

but you simply smiled up at him.

“it’s nice to meet you, gojo,” you said, blissfully unaware of the revelation currently dawning on the man before you and the turmoil it brought as he abruptly retracted his arm back.

gojo stiffened. he merely offered a curt nod before turning on heel and walking away briskly. he could faintly hear yaga protest about his sudden departure before apologizing to you hastily. satoru shook his head.

how was this be possible? how could the universe give him two soulmates? he didn’t even know that was a thing that could happen. he wondered if there had been a similar occurrence before.

gojo couldn’t help but feel nauseous. was this the world playing some sort of sick, cruel joke on him? or was it perhaps giving him a second chance?

and truthfully, it wasn’t like gojo even wanted another soulmate. not after what he had been through with suguru. he hadn’t given it much thought.

was it really worth it?

what if he couldn’t protect you too?

so satoru had decided on one thing that day. the blindfold stays on. concealing his eyes from the world not only for him, but for your sake too. he was certain in his choice; he would never tell you the truth.

as far as you were concerned, you haven’t met your soulmate yet.

and never will.

[END OF TEASER]

a/n: hi ! thanks for reading the teaser !! this is my first jjk/gojo fic so im excited to post it soon. im thinking about adding a tag list since a few people were suggesting it, so feel free comment if you want to be included <33

[betustamorla]

Jason Todd x Helena Bertinelli-Timer Soulmark Soulmates AU-Short story part 3

Here are Part 1 & Part 2, or read it fully at Ao3

The warm sunlight on his face dissolved the darkness of sleep into the red blurriness of his eyelids. Jason groaned and shifted, his body immediately resented the movement, and he turned and hugged the pillow at his side. It smelled fucking nice. Nicer than anything he’d wash any bedclothes of his. Then the smell of coffee and bacon reached him. Finally, he opened his eyes.

He didn’t recognize the white wall to the side of the bed, nor the way the light entered through the window at its foot and other side. Jason incorporated himself slowly and moved the bedding away. He looked down, the only thing of his clothing remaining were his boxers.

“Fuck,” He muttered. His guns, his knives, everything was gone and nowhere in sight. And someone was making breakfast on the other side of the half-closed door. Memories of last night flooded him and he breathed out, passing a hand down his face.

His soulmate, huh? What did he know of the Huntress? Not much. She worked with Birds and sometimes Batman. He didn’t know her civilian name or anything else for the matter. And it seemed like she knew more about him than he of her. He didn't like this at all. And the fact that she had seemed unfazed by him being her soulmate. Hell, she’d even brought him to what he assumed was her place, and not only that but right up tucking him in bed right beside her. What. The. Fuck.

Had she done something to him while he slept?

The door opened and a pair of dark blue eyes peered at him with curiosity. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders as she cocked her head to one side and leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed.

“Feeling better?” Her voice was smooth and her tone firm.

“I—Yeah…” What the fuck was wrong with him? Yes, she was pretty—fucking gorgeous—but it wasn’t his first time seeing a beautiful woman before, so he attributed his surprise to the beating of yesterday.

“Good. You can take a shower before eating breakfast. I cleaned what I could from the blood and rubble with a towel, but it’s not the same as a bath—Oh, and here—” She moved out of his sight for a second then reappeared and tossed a bundle of clothes at him– “I went to buy some clothes for you, I don’t think any of my clothes would fit you.”

“Where are my things?”

“Over at the laundry. They’re a dirty mess and I won’t be washing that.”

“No one asked you to.”

“No.” She smiled at him, and Jason wanted it to drop because his mind had gone blank again. “Shower, over there. Then we can talk over breakfast.” She didn’t wait for a response and walked away.

Jason didn’t know what to do. This was simply put, extremely fucking weird. To feel at ease and nearly trust someone you just met—come to think of it, he didn’t even know her name. Fuck damn. He shook his head and took the bundle of new-smelling clothes. A bath sounded good to him and the purplish and greenish hues appearing all over his body would start hurting more as time went on, so—

Great, now I smell like a girl. He thought sourly walking out of the bathroom at having nothing else but flowery sweet stuff to wash with.

“Someone could figure out your secret identity by this smell,” He said sniffing. It had come out more naturally than he’d been expecting— because it was.

“Oh, it fades by the time I finish at school so it is fine,” She answered after raising her eyes shortly from the newspaper she had been reading. “Sit down, before it gets cold

“School?” He asked dubiously. And almost chose to remain standing, but the bacon, fried eggs on toast, and glass of orange juice called too much to his hunger.

“I’m a teacher at St. Ignatius High School.”

Jason took the seat opposite her and took a piece of bacon. “Shouldn’t you be in school by now then?”

“It’s Saturday.” Finally, she folded the newspaper and put it to the side, Jason glimpsed at the headline “Nuclear explosion wipes Blüdhaven”. Fuck. Wasn’t that unlucky if not wholly unsurprising? He wondered if the Golden Boy had made it alive. Bruce must be going nuts if he didn’t, or maybe not, for all he seemed to care—

The realization that he was being intensely stared at hit him immediately. He looked up at those piercing dark eyes and irritation replaced the anger.

“What?” He snapped.

“Nothing. Your sudden change of intense emotions is distracting.”

Jason leaned back into his chair and looked at her up and down, then said slowly, “Stay away then.” He had read and heard what finding your soulmate entailed, you kind of formed a link or some bullshit like that. Something that allowed you to feel to some extent what the other was feeling, and he remembered the calmness and the steadiness that had surrounded him last night, it hadn’t been his. He passed his tongue over his teeth uneasily, mainly because he didn’t hate it as much as he wanted to.

She, for her part, answered his rudeness with a sweet smile then a light shake of the head. And Jason felt like a child in the classroom after giving a stupid answer to a question. Meanwhile, Huntress had started to fill her plate with food, but before starting to eat she crossed and tilted her head slightly while he guessed made a quick prayer then started eating.

Jason shifted uncomfortably for many reasons. His body aches for being too long in one position, how she was so condescending and calm, and her religious inclinations, or the fact that she seemed to be able to pick more of their link from his emotions than he could.

Maybe if you weren’t trying to reject it you could get the hang of it. Yeah, right. His mind supplied.

“What’s your name?” He finally asked after shoving an egg on a toast into his mouth.

“Helena Bertinelli.”

“Hm.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me yours?”

“Nope.”

“That’s mean, Jason.”

“Yes. I’m mean, so what?” Of course, she already knew who he was.

“Well, I think you’re cute.”

Jason choked on his toast.

“Did you do something to me last night?” He said after drinking juice and reaching for another toast.

Now it was her turn to choke, then she followed with laughter. Jason stared blankly for a moment, she really was beautiful, then looked away when he realized his thoughts.

“I’m not attracted to minors.”

“I’m twenty,” He growled.

“You could have fooled me with all that angsty-edgy-rebellious vibe you get going.”

Fuck damn, he’d walked right into it, hadn’t he?

“You reaching your forties?” He shot back and felt like he’d played more into her hand.

Her smile widened and winked at him, “Fifties.”

“Ha. Funny,” He muttered into the glass of orange juice, then put it down and asked, “Then why put me in your bed?”

“There’s no other bed here, and I wasn't sleeping on the couch or the floor. Besides, you became too restless when I separated from you.”

Jason felt his face heat, in parts embarrassment and parts anger. Again he was being controlled by something he couldn’t choose. He glared odiously at the zero marks on his wrist.

“So what will you do now, Baby Bat?” She–Helena asked after a moment of silence while both of them ate.

“If you call me once more that, I’ll—”

“Kill me? Go ahead and try, Baby Bat,” She taunted him.

He growled but somehow he didn’t feel too much against it anymore. And the more he showed dislike the more she would call him that it seemed. Jason started to worry that this calmness and control was not his own, was being forced on him, was keeping him complaint and—

“Calm down. I wasn’t being serious.”

“No—I know… Listen, this—whatever this is, it’s not going to work. Whatever sick force is trying to bind us, we don’t have to let it control us.”

Her demeanor visibly softened, “I’m not forcing you to stay, Jason. Or maintain contact with me in any way. You seem to have gone through a lot, and while I don’t condone many things that you’ve done, I can’t say I don’t understand them. But if you keep down this path you’ll just end up self-destructing and whatever good you might be trying to achieve—it will corrupt and twist. Spilling blood when you may choose not to spill it, just taints you, whether the one you kill is evil or scum, it still will leave its mark on you. And if you chose to stay, you can’t keep that up.”

“Then so be it. I will see all those fuckers in hell if needed.” Jason shrugged. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting. But now that she’d said that, it was the closest to whatever he could have pictured if he’d had more time.

“I don’t think that’s what you really want,” She said after a pause and examination of his face.

“And how would you know?” He snorted.

“Because you’re still a baby in many respects. Even if you’ve seen more than most. You need time to grow and find joy in life. Wouldn’t you rather find that than Hell? Life is tough enough as it is, you don’t need to make it more so.”

Jason didn’t answer, he should have felt insulted, being called a baby—except she hadn’t said it mockingly, nor pityingly, nor patronizing, and she just sounded— tired and a little sad. “So you won’t try to make me stay nor follow me,” He guessed, not a twinge of disappointment there…not at all. 

“No.” Her answer was firm.

It’s not like it surprised him, why would she want a soulmate like him? Just someone else in the long list of people who rejected him. He passed his tongue over his right sharp teeth and asked—challenged, “And what happens when I keep going the way I am? What happens when we come face to face?”

“I’ll stop you if I can.” Then she smiled sadly. “I can’t save you from yourself, Baby Bat. That’s not in my power. But I can accompany you on your path if you want to walk another one.”

That answer deflated him somewhat, he’d been expecting a definitive clean-cut where she’d state to pretend to not know him, or completely ignore their bond. This was so confusing. And he felt a twinge in his heart, a flake that held hope and trust… And it wasn’t his. 

He looked up and asked, “And what would that be?” He asked quietly and the most earnest he’d been all this late morning. How would that look?

“Who knows? Perhaps somewhere far away. Have you been to Italy?” Jason shook his head. “Perhaps you’d love it, the small villages and the countryside… Or maybe just traveling around—there’s enough injustice around the world where they could use some helping hands. The world is wide and many good can be done—many atonement as well…”

They fell into a lull of silence and both drifted into their thoughts. Jason wondered at the last part, he knew she wasn’t speaking just of him. He didn’t know what her story was in-depth, but doubted he’d search more about it. A future day, a different future—could he have that? He hadn’t stopped to think, to even think about thinking. There was something in the back of his mind always nagging to keep moving, don’t stop, don’t look, don’t listen, or the air will run out, or the soil will not give. The laughter won’t stop.

“Baby Bat, you really need to do something about those mood swings.” Helena’s comment pulled him to the present again. “I have to leave now,” She continued looking at the clock over the fridge, “I have to help in the Parish kitchen. Saturday stew night for the homeless, God knows there are too many in this damned city—” She trailed off and got up from her chair.

Jason reached for an apple and bit down on it while following her movements around in silence. It still was odd to think that he really had a soulmate after all it was a fifty-fifty chance you got to be born with a timer, and some timers froze—which meant your soulmate had kicked the bucket. Jason had been expecting that to happen, but it hadn’t and now here they were. For good or for bad he still hadn’t quite made up his mind yet. She didn’t seem about to go and tell Batman about their connection so that much was a win on his books…

“Alright, I’m off. You can eat whatever’s on the fridge, and be a darling and wash the dishes, would you? Thanks. If you leave, make sure everything stays closed.” All these, she said while putting on her purple jacket and pulling her dark hair free from it after finishing adjusting it. Jason had just hummed in response to all, and when he thought she was finally leaving she paused sighed, and walked to him. Jason had to fight the urge to move away from her as strongly as part of him wanted to allow her to reach for him, in the end, he stood still, not wishing to show her how much she affected him, even if he was sure she could feel it to some extent.

Helena took his chin and made him look up at her gently, then after their eyes locked she leaned down and kissed his forehead. The warmness and softness of her lips seemed to envelop his body for the longest of seconds. Then her lips were gone, and she said softly, “Be careful out there, my Soulmate.” He felt her warmness move away and he opened his eyes, he hadn’t even noticed when they had fallen shut.

Jason saw her take her purse and walk out the door, yet he stayed in the same spot for who knows how long, it could have been minutes or hours. My Soulmate. Resounded in his head. Those two words had been uttered with so much fondness and joy–he’d felt it as she had felt it–, it still took some of his breath away, because he hadn’t thought—he hadn’t believed whoever his soulmate would end up being would be glad to have him after they knew who he was, what he was. But she knew enough of his ugliness and debased things he’d done and still seemed happy to have him. It was unbelievable, he couldn’t—

He let out a shaky breath and passed his not-less shaky hand through his hair. Then he snapped out of it and got moving to find his gear before leaving this place before his mind got any muddier. Or more clear, something whispered in the back of his head.

[silawastaken]

the way it genuinely brought tears to my eyes as i finished the last chapter of the soulmate au. like??? this fic has been my LIFE for the past couple months and seeing the update always made my week 😭.

though I actually cannot wait to see whatever else you write, especially the spinoff and two slow dancers!!! (i haven’t read chapter 1 of the spinoff yet but i WILL right after i finish writing this)

and i’ve also met some amazing people through this fic which is crazy to me because if i didn’t click on this work that one day i was scrolling through ao3 what would’ve happened?? it’s just so insane to think about honestly…and the discord?? everyone on there is so nice it feels like such a welcoming little community. even just going through and reading all the messages brightens my day.

I SWEAR one day i will bind this fic and dedicate some sort of shrine to it on my bookshelf. i will recommend it to anyone and everyone i come across. i will think about it from years to come. i will dedicate my future successes to this beautiful piece of literature.

maybe i’m a little obsessed but hey. the emotions i experienced whilst reading this were unparalleled and it HAS made an impact on my life and myself as a person. (me and my bsf make a bunch of inside jokes and refs about this all the time like ill fall asleep on call and she’ll go “omg dazai and chuuya from the soulmate au!!”)

just sayin people can shame fic readers/writers all they want but some things i’ve read on ao3 are literally published book quality and they have NO idea what they’re missing out on.

ahh sorry for my rant i just wanted to get this out there :D time to go read the spinoff!!

I'm surprised I'm not completely emotionally wrecked like ??? This has been my life for months as well, I've spent so much time on this it's insane, updating was always my favourite part of the day. I really do hope you like the rest of what I write, as much if not more than the soulmate au, though I don't think I'll ever get better than this tbh 😭

I also think about it a lot, what would I be doing if I hadn't posted the first chapter of this? If I had given up halfway? Genuinely, if it weren't for this fic, and the people I've met through it, I wouldn't be who I am, and I wouldn't be as happy or content as I am. I'd be positively miserable. Genuinely, the little community we've gathered is the best thing ever <3

If you bind this fic I'd love to see how it turns out, though a shrine does seem a little excessive lol 😭😭 but hey if you wanna recommend it I will not complain!!! You're not the only person who this fic has changed- surprisingly, because in my mind it's still the like four sentence idea in my notes app- and I also get it, I'm making references all the time 😔 i saw a tub of strawberries in the store and was jumping around in glee.

I don't think this was quite book quality, but I appreciate the sentiment 😭 I'm so glad you liked this so much, and I hope you like the spin off too <3

[alexanderlightweight]

Hi not a prompt, but i love your writing soo soo much! I wanted to know what are your headcanons for malec and the SH universe in general. Also have you read the books?

oooh okay so i loved this ask and here we go. it's a bit long jsyk

Oh wow, okay. My headcanons for malec. This might get a bit long and it’s not going to look pretty so please bear with me because I don’t have the time to make it look nice though I’ll do that eventually.

So first things, individually.

I think alec is autistic and demi-sexual and I pretty much write that into my fics. I also am pretty hardcore in the belief that malec are soulmates and that’s often written into my work/implied/referenced oh, and he’s a slytherin

Magnus I headcanon as adhd and a ravenclaw because while he’s ambitious, his interest in knowledge and learning and inventing (he created the portal and worked with a shadowhunter to do it) is one of his biggest traits and also, you can’t tell me that one of the signs of an adhd warlock wouldn’t be them just tossing things into the void because object permanence and realizing three centuries later that was one of their favorite cups and they miss it. Or even ‘oops, that’s where that spell book went. Got distracted’. (saeth   adhd and let me tell you if they had magic. This would be them. Half the things in the house would be tossed into the void BECAUSE THEY DO THAT WITHOUT MAGIC and I am projecting lol) anyway ravenclaw because I feel like magnus just really loves learning and knowing things tbh. Team immortal is there no matter how dark magnus is and they support him through everything unless they’re dead and I don’t normally write that they’re both gone, if even one of them is.

I don’t think I could write a universe where Alec hated Magnus, not after meeting him. There’s something about Magnus that calls to Alec instinctively, in a primal way and Alec is kind of helpless to resist it and more than that, he usually doesn’t want to. It takes more effort for him to ignore and avoid magnus, than it does to give in. The same for magnus, though he tries better to hide it.

Magnus is the more wary of the two tbh, once alec falls he falls. Once he takes that first step and kisses magnus, there is no turning back for alec and that’s pretty overwhelming for him. Also this is just the way alec is wired and how he loves. He’d rather make sacrifices and cut out other things than lose magnus and he often struggles with what he wants and what he feels he needs to do. Because alec is used to sacrificing what he wants and loves so a part of him probably always feels like he shouldn’t be allowed to keep magnus. Which is why its so important that he’s kept, because the choice is out of his hands and he no longer has to battle against himself and the brainwashing that was beat into him.

Letting magnus keep him is probably the most selfish thing Alec ever does and it’s also the best thing for himself.

In my fics where they’re already established relationship, i often skipped the parts where magnus has lowered his guard enough to let alec in and fully let himself love him. Like magnus is already gone before alec ever kisses him in canon but he’s in denial and trying to protect himself. They fall near the same time but they’re both in denial for different reasons.

In soulmate au’s and fics like Elysium’s Tears, there are often outside factors that let Alec slip past Magnus’ boundary guard. In the fics that there aren’t those factors, Magnus normally finds a way to bind alec to him and keep him. Because magnus is too protective of his own heart to let alec in when there is a risk he could leave.

And alec is, as I mentioned. Very happy to be kept.

In most of my fics, alec stays on as hoti and tbh, magnus adores his competent shadowhunter but he’d much rather someone else deal with the drudgery and alec just supervise them. Which is why magnus is very invested in mirai’s health in a lot of my fics.

I write competent shadowhunters and warlocks btw.

Who use common sense because they’re militaristic but they’re not soldiers. They’re hunters and they need to have instincts and be able to think for themselves when their leader is unavailable and they are tracking prey or being tracked.

And I write warlocks as if they, you know, actually live in a world that had a genocide happen 20 years ago. Wary, battle worn and with a lot of defensive magic and jewelry. Because that shit doesn’t fade, especially when you’re already long lived and weary.

I write malec as Dom/Magnus and Sub/Alec because that’s my headcanon and I don’t plan on changing that. That’s just how my thoughts of their dynamic works and even when it’s not explicit, it’s how I tend to write things. I don’t want to get into it because it often gets gross, but I’ll say I don’t think dom = top or sub = bottom. Its just sex and scenes and the enjoyment they derive from it and how I end up writing is often based on what kind of intimacy I’m trying to convey.

Excerpt from ‘an extension of you’s notes on ao3:

also i will not write my characters being transphobic (unless it's a rare occasion i want to write asshole about to get curb stomped and crushed and even then that’s rare because i normally don’t want to write about it). Alec has had a lot of conversations about genitalia and gender with magnus and it took a while but he figured it out because honestly, alec had never given it much thought before. if a guy had been giving birth, alec would have still been just as horrified by the vaginal fluid. the same way he was horrified to be propositioned by a woman, even if she had a cock. it just, his brain does not compute. cat is pleasantly surprised btw, because of how rampant all the prejudice-phobias are in shadowhunter culture.

alec is demi-sexual coded in a lot of my fics because i headcanon that and i am also repulsed by genital and birthing fluids.

alec: my boyfriend is my boyfriend regardless of whats in his pants. and if i end up not liking it we'll just do other things for as long as he wants, because it's his body and he gets what he desires in his pants.

magnus: i desire you in my pants

alec: magnus this is supposed to be serious

magnus: im always serious about wanting you

— end excerpt –

I headcanon that alec loves strawberries and raspberries and has terrible eating habits because of how he was raised and trained. And that magnus wants to pamper alec in every way he can with decadence. Alec likes the fruitier/tart drinks and avoids gin and vermouth and he loves champagne and once he gets used to the burn, whiskey. Beer is a hit or miss and he’s not fond of ipas.

Magnus doesn’t necessarily change alec’s style, but he does change his wardrobe. Switching it out for softer clothing and nicer textures, more protective features. Sometimes alec feels adventurous and he’s always allowed to browse magnus’ closet but magnus doesn’t push him unless they’re going out and alec’s exasperatedly fine with magnus coordinating their outfits. He’s hopelessly endeared by it actually.

Alec likes watching magnus enjoy himself and magnus enjoys alec watching him and they both are winning but they both think it’s for the wrong thing. Alec thinks magnus enjoys the shopping and magnus thinks alec likes watching him try on things. Which I mean is a perk, for alec, but not the draw.

There is just a lot of mutual adoration from the two tbh. Alec is touch starved and Magnus is hungry to touch and be touched and alec is shocked that he’s allowed to touch and delighted by it.

And appreciated. Alec isn’t used to being appreciated and magnus is very appreciative and in the same turn, magnus isn’t used to being worshiped and alec worships him

Magnus loves confident alec btw, he just also likes turning confident alec into a blushing mess because alec is: heart eyes motherfucker

I think the reason I sometimes say I write soft/dark and soft/horror is because there’s never really a universe where alec isn’t mesmerized by magnus and magnus isn’t entranced in return. So there’s always this element of longing/wonder between them, even in the darker of verses. It’s really hard to not have those parts when it’s just so intrinsic to them and it’s why even in something like kiss with a fist, I’ve been told the ending is very soft.

Also I have not read the books, but saeth has and so they tell me information from it when I need it and I do incorporate small details that they share.

and alec will always end up immortal in my verses even if it's not stated.

Putting this on here with a link since I don’t want to overload the page:

okay so yeah, i hope you like this insight?

<3 lumine