#maybe this is just what your late twenties feel like? idk

[chiefofboatwatsonstittymug]

Birthday next week. Feels like this is the first time in a few years where I feel like I've moved backwards instead of forwards

[kisses4reid]

understand? pt. 1 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - you’re a polyglot translator assigned to work for the bau in a cross-national case, and there’s a doctor who wants to impress you.

genre - fem!reader, SHE/HER r, fluff, meet cute, you know more than spencer and he’s attracted to that

warnings - you're both awkward, mentions of gross case file photos, little research about polyglots actually done so there are inaccuracies, cliffhanger for part 2.

w/c - 1.4k

a/n - thank you for the req anon!! there was multiple parts to this but i really like the first idea so that’s what this fic is about, might keep the other idea for later hehe. i did change some aspects. love you, thank you for the support <33 there will be multiple parts!!! stay tuned!!!

req - hi pia 💞💝🩷💓 how r u? i hope you’re feeling wonderful! this is my first time requesting smthg i apologize if i get something wrong! i’ve been having 2 thoughts about spencer x fem!reader, where reader is a russian translator and idk they meet cute or she has to work with the bau helping them on a case. just wanted to give these ideas to you, obviously feel free to do anything with them! i really enjoy your work and your writing is incredible! i have your notifications on so i am always reading whatever you post! have a great day pia 💝 lots n lots of kisses for u!

This was not what you expected. 

You, a woman in your late twenties that spent most of her time in a room listening to voices and decoding foreign messages, didn’t know what you expected. But this: a scary boss, an italian old man, and a skinny college kid, was not it. 

“Y/n L/n? I’m Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief, and this is Agent Rossi and Doctor Agent Reid.” 

You nodded your head, thick hair covering your top eyelashes as you glanced at the men. Agent Rossi shook your hand, and Dr Reid simply stood and gawked at you. To be honest, it made you worried. You had been warned this was a close knit team, that they trusted each other more than anything and that you shouldn’t get attached to any of them as you’d only be assisting them for one case.

Maybe they just didn’t warm up to new people. 

“I’ll do your formal introduction to the rest of the team now, if you’re settled down.” He asks cooly. You like the way his voice rasps, it’s assertive yet comforting. 

“Yes, of course. I can’t wait.” You smiled reassuringly at the unit chief, not ignoring the raised eyebrow you received from the silent young man now behind you.

Aaron Hotchner, your new boss for the next week or so, lead you to a large room with a circular table sat in the middle. There were two other women, one blonde and one raven haired, and another bald man that glanced at you immediately after you entered. They smiled at you and trailed your steps to where you stood beside the unit chief in front of a large TV screen.

“Everyone, this is Agent Y/n L/n. She’ll be assisting us with the Becker case you’ve all been informed of. She’ll mainly be our translator and interpreter, but she’ll also be useful for cultural identifiers and anything that we wouldn’t notice otherwise.” 

You nodded along, never being a fan of introductions since you moved to America as a small child. 

“This is JJ, our liaison, Agent Emily Prentiss and Agent Derek Morgan.” 

The ladies smiled at you, in fact all of them did. They were surprisingly open to the fact you would be joining them, the fact made your shoulders loosen and a breath to be let out discreetly. 

Next, you were on a long plane flight to Maine with Agents you had known for little under two hours, conversing about victim profiles and motives. The table in front of the ladies and your boss was strewn with victim files and gruesome photos. And while you weren’t a stranger to the dangers and violence the job brought, you had gotten comfortable with only hearing about it and not seeing it. So you opted to hover around the table and stay silent, you weren’t a trained profiler after all, just a translator.  

There was a wave of cologne that disrupted your senses, causing you to angle your head back, only to be greeted by the tall doctor. 

You smiled softly, assuming the closeness was due to the aeroplane's arrangement. Also because you got the vibe that Spencer didn’t like you. 

“Are you okay? You seem uneasy,” he asked. It was the first time you heard his voice. And it was as adolescent as you imagined for someone so young, but it had a sophisticated edge to it, with a honey-like undertone. Finding things in voices as if they were perfumes was something you unconsciously started to do since working as a translator.

“I’m fine.” You grinned reassuringly, turning back to focus on the team’s findings. 

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows slightly and stepped away, sitting down beside Morgan who had taken a seat at the back. Morgan squinted at his friend, noticing the rare confusion splayed on his face as he stared in your direction. 

“What’s up? Pretty girl got your tongue?” Morgan removed his headphones with a cheeky smile displayed on his handsome face.

“For someone who specialises in languages she doesn’t talk much.” 

Morgan smirked, “Maybe not to you.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong though.” Spencer ripped his gaze off the back of your head.

“You’ve been staring at her since she walked through those doors. You were so distracted you didn’t even greet her this morning.” Morgan pointed out. Spencer tilted his head confused, a small blush creeping up his neck. “I watched the whole thing from the conference room, so did JJ and Emily.” 

The tall boy slumped in his chair and forced himself to look out of the plane’s window, avoiding a reply to Morgan as he knew it would only result in more teasing. You were physically attractive, everyone could see that, but the thing that caught Spencer’s attention was your intelligence. He was no stranger to being a polyglot, he learnt languages for fun, but you were simply next level. Morgan studied Spencer’s face for a second before raising his attention to your hovering state. “Agent Y/n L/n.” Morgan called, causing Spencer to widen his eyes and immediately adjust his slumped position in his plane seat. You turned your head in surprise, slightly confused why you would be needed anywhere else than the files you had been translating for the past two minutes. Your heels were silent against the carpeted floors, but Spencer could sense your presence anyways. 

“How many languages do you speak?” The stoic man asked, his eyes darting between you and the doctor below you. You were not short, your genes didn’t allow for it, but you had noticed you were only taller than JJ and Rossi in the team and it felt foreign to not tower over everyone. “Um, I speak 8 languages fluently, and 4 languages semi-fluently.” You stated, readying to turn back to assist the team before Morgan spoke up once again

“Did you know that pretty boy can speak Spanish and German?” 

Before Spencer could help himself, he corrected the man, “And Latin and Russian,” Spencer turned his head up to you, “But I can understand more.” 

You smiled, genuinely impressed and confused on how a man that young could learn that much. But to be fair, you were in the same boat. The nickname got your attention, locking it in the back of your mind to remind yourself that the people you were working with did in fact have senses of humour, and weren’t just heartless officers. There wasn’t any reason to think that though, as you had been cared for with respect and even Prentiss made a funny remark beforehand. It sort of felt like a family dinner you were intruding on. “That’s impressive, Doctor Reid.” You reply genuinely. 

“I mean it’s nothing compared to you though,” his voice was pitched slightly higher and his hands started motioning to nothing in particular, “your brain is constantly changing from high activity to low activity when you're translating from one language to another. Your language network, the lateral frontal lobe, is constantly lighting up and dimming down depending on what language you hear, ordinary people’s language networks only turn on and off.” 

Morgan smirked and glanced up at your intrigued and surprised expression. You nodded, a small blush coating the tips of your ears as you responded, “Thank you.” You didn’t really know what else to say, which is funny for someone who understands so many languages, so you simply smiled and turned back to the table. Spencer slumped again, watching you walk away and asking himself why he would inform a pretty girl about her own brain, when she most definitely already knows about it. 

“Don’t worry too much, Reid.” Morgan called, grabbing Spencer’s attention. The boy raised a brow, not understanding. “She digs it, I can tell. But she’s just like you, knows how to speak in a million ways and still doesn’t know how to small talk.” 

You landed without any more awkward interactions, and got introduced to some sheriffs in Maine, one of them giving you a tighter handshake than the rest and a stare that could only mean unpleasant things. It wasn't something sexist or creepy that lingered in his eyes, it was more like hatred. Spencer took the sheriff's attention away from you after noticing what the whole team did, and asked him to show him the records they kept at the precinct.

Emily Prentiss came up behind you and placed a hand on your upper arm, squeezing it like she understood what you had thought you'd seen. Out of everyone else in the team, she would understand the most.

taglist (open!!): @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld

[sluts4matt]

y/n cops an attitude with Chris while they argue so chris bends her over the table and fucks it out of her by overstimulating her? idk. just an idea.

ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT

pairing: rough!dom chris x latina!reader

summary: chris had been a bit jealous of yours and matt's relationship lately, the two of you seeming closer than before. this irritates you however, and you're not afraid to voice it.

warnings: SMUT, pet names, slight praising if you squint, degradation, spanking, hair pulling, slight dumbification (sorry not sorry)

word count: 1207

author's note: boys being jealous of another guy and fucking you so good as a reminder that you're only theirs will never NOT be attractive to me. (if you saw this poll this was originally called attitude problem 🤪)

"are you serious right now?" you ask walking into the kitchen. chris is sitting on a stool by the counter, a can of pepsi in front of him while he scrolls through his phone.

chris looks up at you, a neutral look in his eyes. "what?" he mumbles as if he didn't hear you.

"are you seriously jealous of my friendship with matt?" you ask, annoyance rising in your tone. he scoffs, "when did i ever say this?" he asks.

you walk closer to him, crossing your arms. "you don't need to say it for me to see how fucking obvious it is," you groan, "i mean shit, kids your fucking brother and the only thing i hear anymore when i'm around is snide remarks and comments that don't actually need to be said."

the look on chris' face irritates you even more, "its the fucking passive aggressiveness towards him for absolutely no reason."

"he's not the one dating you," chris snaps, "he shouldn't have your twenty-four-fucking-seven attention," he states, "but guess what? he fucking does," his voice growing louder.

"and you wanna know why?" he asks rhetorically, standing up, towering over you. "because he's the perfect gentleman. he's fucking nice to you, and kind to you, and does all this stupid little shit that he knows you fucking like."

you kept your mouth shut, craning your neck to look up at him. "if you like him so fucking much," he states, "why don't you go fuck him instead?"

he was trying to piss you off, and it was working. you felt yourself get annoyed. "maybe i will since my actual boyfriends being a little bitch," you snap.

it took a minute for chris to respond, the look in his eyes showing anger. he was pissed, and you didn't know whether to feel satisfied or afraid.

he leans closer to you, and your back presses against the table, the corner digging into your skin. you didn't move, staring back at him with a similar glare.

"you wanna run that by me again, sweetheart?" he asks, his hands going to the edge of the counter, trapping you between his arms.

"maybe i will since my actual boyfriend being a little bitch," you repeat. the look on his face darkens and before you knew it, he flipped you around, bending you over the table. his hand lands down on your ass, hard. a whine escaping your lips at the sensation.

"is that a fucking attitude i'm hearing?" he growls, leaning down to your ear, "because if so, i think it's time someone gives you an attitude adjustment."

you whimper, feeling his crotch press against your ass. his fingers grip your hair, yanking your head back, "you know, maybe i should call matt in here, since you love him so fucking much."

you didn't respond, feeling his other hand slip underneath your skirt, pulling your panties aside. he was pissed, and the way his fingers rubbed at your cunt were proof of that.

"chris-" you start, only for him to cut you off. "shut up," he growls, unbuckling his belt. you felt his hard cock pressing against your pussy, "if i'm not getting my girl, no one else is," he states, the tip of his cock teasing your hole. "'specially not fucking matt," he growled.

he slams into you without warning, and you scream, not expecting it. "fuck!" you yell, feeling him immediately start to pound into you. the sound of skin hitting skin filling the room.

"yeah, i forgot to tell you, baby," he grunts, one of his hands holding your hips, while the other gripped your hair, "i'm gonna make you forget everyone's name but mine."

you felt tears pool in your eyes, his fingers tugging at your hair, and the feeling of his cock repeatedly ramming into your tight cunt making you cry out in pleasure. "who's your fucking boyfriend, huh?" he asks, the hand holding your hip moving to your ass, landing a harsh slap. "you," you pant, "it's you, chris," you cry, your orgasm nearing.

"damn fucking right," he grunts, his cock thrusting into you with reckless abandon, "and what's matt?" he asks, spanking your ass again. "n-nothing," you stutter.

"that's fucking right, baby," he states, his hand letting go of your hair and slipping between the table and your body, rubbing at your clit. "shit," you curse, a sob escaping your lips, "i-i'm close," you whine.

"then cum slut," he states, the coil in your stomach snapping as your release takes over. "oh, fuck!" you scream, chris' thrusts never slowing.

"we're not fucking done, sweetheart," he states, continuing to slam his hips against yours. "fuck, chris, its s-sensitive," you whine. "shoulda thought about that before saying you'd fuck matt," he grunts, grabbing at your wrist with his large hand, holding them in place behind your back.

your eyes roll to the back of your head, his cock slamming into your g-spot over and over again. the sound of skin against skin, and your moans filled the room. "fuck, fuck," you moan, "please, chris, please," you beg, not sure what you're asking for.

his hips slam into you with a newfound aggression, chasing his own high. "i'm close," he groans, his hand making your hair a makeshift pony tail, just to yank back, your back colliding with his chest. "look at you," he cooed condescendingly, he placed sloppy kisses against your shoulder blade.

"getting fucked so good by the little bitch boyfriend, hm?" he asks, his cock still slamming into your dripping cunt, "you just love when i treat you like a fucking whore, don't you, sweetheart?" he asks.

you were unable to form any coherent thoughts, his thrusts hitting deep within you, the overstimulation making your body go limp. you let out a series of babbles and cries, begging for him.

"i'm cumming," he states, his voice low and gravely, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. you could feel his cock pulsate inside of you, the feeling of his warm release coating your walls triggering yours.

you could feel him pulse, your walls clenching around him, milking him for all his worth. your head rolls back onto his shoulder, your breath coming out in heavy pants.

"did i hurt you?" he asks softly, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your hips, and back. you hum, "a little," you squeak out, "but it was nice," you reassure him, and you could feel him kiss the shell of your ear.

"i didn't scare you did i?" he asks, and you could tell he was concerned.

"no," you state, "not at all," you add, and his hands go turn you around, lifting you onto the marble counters. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to hurt you," he states, his lips ghosting over your bruised neck, from the previous nights.

"i know," you state, smiling up at him. "did it work though?" he asks, his finger tracing your bottom lip, "forgot about matt?" he questions.

you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck, "wasn't a thought in my head anyways," you whisper, your nose nudging his.

"good," he smiles, "i'd hate to have to do it again," he adds, pecking your lips.

tag list:

@hysteria-things @tillies33ssss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @sturniolossss @freshsturns @lily-strnlo @etvar12 @iloveurgf @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloa @chrryclouds @sturniolho @mayhem-72

[rotgirll]

Hiii! Idk if you are taking requests or not but this thing has been on my mind for so long now and I just want to see it be real. Can you do a fic where the reader is 20 year old virgin saving herself from marriage, she's shy, innocent, and oblivious, but she eager to obey Rick. I was hoping for stepdad!rick and maybe a little perv!rick. He has a corruption kink and can just add a slight daddy kink to whole fic? Thanks!

Ik this is a tall order but If you don't want to it I would completely understand if you choose to ignore this ask or whatever, thanks again!

𝗽𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗽𝗼𝗰𝗮𝗹𝘆𝗽𝘀𝗲- 𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗴𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝘅 𝗳!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 :) 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 <33

♱ 18+, 𝘮𝘥𝘯𝘪

it almost felt like wherever you went, those piercing blue eyes were always watching you, their gaze burning into your skin. yet, every single time you'd catch his stare- he never faltered, maintaining unbroken eye contact until he was forced to peel his view away from you. it just seemed as if he held an unshakable curse on you.

"mom!" you called out, your voice resonating through the house as you trudged down the stairs with a scowl etching on your face. as you turned the corner to the kitchen, you caught sight of her by the sink, engrossed in the book she held in her hands.

"how do you keep losing my underwear in the laundry?" you exclaimed, placing your hands on your hips, frustration evident in your voice.

"I don't know, honey" she replied, absentmindedly, still buried in her book. it was evident she wasn't listening to any word you were saying.

with a roll of your eyes, a pout formed on your lips- trying to express your frustrations.

"mom," you protested, exasperation lacing your voice, "you're not even listening to me!" you gestured emphatically, hoping to capture her attention away from the book that seemed to snag her focus entirely.

she raised her head abruptly, fixing you with a pointed look. "you're twenty years old, can't you do your own laundry?"

a huff fell escaped your sulking lips. "that's a stupid argument, mom!"

"you know what," she declared, the thud of her book hitting the table punctuating her words, "I don't even do the laundry, your father does"

your face twisted into a nasty scowl at her words, and you crossed your arms in defiance, leaning against the wall. "he is not my father" you interjected, firmly.

she opened her mouth, likely preparing to retort with some cutting words, or even to shout them directly at you. but fortunately, you were saved by the unmistakable sound of the front door slamming shut.

her demeanour shifted suddenly, the scowl fading from her face as she perked up, swiftly composing herself to appear presentable for the man about to enter. you could already feel the weight of his piercing blue eyes burning holes into your back.

"hi, rick!" she called out, her tone dripping with sweetness. you rolled your eyes, disgust painting your face as they shared what seemed like a 'romantic' hug. 

exhaling with frustration, you pivoted on your heels and ascended back up the stairs with purpose, acutely aware of those same lingering eyes boring into the backs of your thighs. their murmured conversation blurred into the background as you reached your bedroom, slamming the door behind you with a resolute thud.

a series of insistent knocks sounded on your door a while later. just while you found yourself knee-deep in a sea of clothing, frantically rummaging through drawers in search of an outfit for the party you'd been invited to the next day. an irritated grumble slipped from your lips, frustrated by the unwelcome interruption.

"come in" you shouted, the lack of enthusiasm evident in your tone. 

the door handle twisted slowly, prompting you to turn your head to see who was entering. your eyes immediately fixated on his. you adjusted your posture, stealing a quick glance at yourself in the mirror- just like your mother.

"it's late" he broke the silence with his gravely voice.

"uh.. yeah, i'm just looking for an outfit" you stammered, feeling your heart rate quicken as he stepped closer.

a breathy laugh escaped his mouth as his teasing words followed "what for? I think those frilly pyjama shorts look great"

your mind spun, too preoccupied with biting your nails to take any note of what he said. you didn't want him to see the heat that suddenly spread across your face.

"yeah.." your voice came out airy, he could tell you didn't seem to pay much attention to his words.

"well.." he began, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. "your mom and I are about to watch a movie. you're welcome to join us anytime" 

that was it, he shut the door- leaving you standing alone in the middle of the room, a tingling sensation coursing through your body. maybe you would like to join them.

so, that's exactly what you did. you weren't oblivious; you could hear their faint voices through the floorboards. one film seamlessly led into another, and as your mother indulged in several glasses of wine, you concluded that she had drifted off to sleep

that's when you decide to prowl into the living room, spotting the exact scenario you had pictured in your head. your mother was, indeed, curled up next to rick while the movie still continued to play on the television.

it appeared that your attempt at quiet prowling wasn't as stealthy as you had hoped; a creak echoed into the room as you inadvertently stepped on a loose floor tile. you cursed under your breath, scrunching your face up in annoyance as you peered towards them, only to find ricks blue eyes staring right into yours. 

he gave a silent nod of his head, acknowledging your presence. however, you felt almost frozen in place, your mind racing too fast to even be able to give a response. he suddenly began to stir, you watched him with curiosity and apprehension. with careful movements, he managed to manoeuvre around your sleeping mother, eventually making his way over to where you stood.

however, to your surprise, he didn't stop in front of you like you'd anticipated. instead, he strolled past, ascending up the staircase. so, against your own judgment, you naively trailed behind him.

you followed him into their shared bedroom, your steps as quiet as possible. despite your efforts, he must have known you were there because he didn't seem surprised when he turned around to find you standing there.

not a word was exchanged between the two of you; you simply stood there in the dark, enveloped by the silence, for what felt like an eternity. as time ticked by, you began to wonder if he was sleepwalking, a wave of embarrassment washing over you at the thought of having followed a sleeping man around the house just because you were enticed by his presence.

but, before you could succumb to self-pity and retreat to your room, he made a sudden move in the darkness. you jumped as his cold hand met the bare skin of your shoulder.

"you're such a pretty little thing" his low voice startled you, almost making you jump out of your skin.

"so, innocent" he continued, his hand trailing a path over your neck. "shame you're such a brat"

his words almost stung. you were always enticed by his presence, and he thought you were a brat? 

you swallowed, attempting to muster up some confidence. "I'm not a brat" you insisted, though your words still came out weak. 

"oh, yeah?" he teased, his hand edging closer to the top of your breasts. "that's not what your mother tells me"

his words made your heart drop, a pit settling in your stomach while you were reminded of the situation you were now in. your hand hurriedly grasped his, just before it began to sink lower into the valley of your breasts.

"w-we can't.." although you tried to tell him to stop, the light in your words died. 

"oh?" he raised an eyebrow teasingly. "but you've been such a brat, don't you want to apologise to your daddy?" 

"your not my daddy" your words were mumbled. they were so quiet, you weren't even sure if you said them. 

"be a good girl and get on your knees" he whispered, his deep voice right by your ear. 

a debate raged through your head. it would be so, so wrong if you obeyed his orders, but god- have you been wanting it for so long. you'd be lying if you said you haven't fallen asleep to the fantasy of him pounding his fat cock into your little virgin cunt.

those thoughts only spurred you on to sink onto your knees, the thought of making him proud sat at the front of your mind. 

"good girl" he growled, and a tingling sensation ran to your core. 

"you gonna be good for daddy?" he asked, his hand stroking your cheek. 

you nodded your head, his touch radiating heat onto your skin. 

"words" he demanded, the growl back in his voice. 

"i'll be a good girl" you stammered out, doe eyes looking up at him sweetly. 

he didn't seem to like that answer, grabbing your chin roughly in his grasp as he lent down to get right into your face. "say that again, princess" his fingers hovered over your lips, while his tone rung dangerously deep.

"i'll be a good girl for you, daddy" you swallowed your words- anything to please him.

"good..." he growled, his finger slipping into your mouth.

like clockwork, you began to suck on them- letting him swirl his fingers around your mouth. he pulled them out with a pop, groaning at the string of saliva that pulled from your mouth. 

"fuck.. i can't wait any longer" he said, maybe a little too loud considering your mom was sleeping right downstairs. 

his actions were hasty; his hands looped around his belt clasp before you could even think, unbuckling it as he pushed his jeans and boxers down to the floor. his fat cock sprang up against his stomach, the tip angry and red. your eyes widened in surprise- he was big.

nerves flowed through you as you peered up at his leaking cock. "you ever sucked a cock before, princess?" 

you cringed at his words. "no" you squeaked out, overwhelmed by the suddenness of his actions.

he growled in response, slapping his heavy cock against your cheek. you froze, feeling a tingling sensation sensation lingering from the pressure.

"no, what?" he asked again, his chest rising quicker as his breath sped up, and a thin layer of sweat appeared on his chest.

"no, daddy" you mewled, watching as he greedily stroked his cock right in front of your face. 

"yeah" he drawled, "open your mouth, sweetheart" 

you obeyed- eager to please him. he almost came on the spot from the sight of you, on your knees for him, with your mouth wide open and your eyes looking up at him ever so sweetly.

god, you were done for.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Do you or your followers have any recommendations for some good SatoSugu x Reader fics here on tumblr or ao3? It feels like I've read all the good ones out there (yours included, which are all amazing btw 💕) but maybe there are a few that have slipped under my radar and escaped my notice. lol

idk that many either! ik i rave about satosugu poly fics buuuut i don't read that many! its mainly cuz there's not a long which is a little surprising!

but here are my favs! (if anyone else wants to add on pls pls do so!)

Like Hoarded Gold (Dark) - @inorganicone2230

Dark! Satosugu, where they manipulate the MC and isolate the MC into basically relying on them for everything. It's hilarious because the satosugu have healthy boundaries with each other but they are totally fine with manipulating and gaslighting the mc into staying with them. It's super dark, creepy, and just overall amazing!!!

Obsessed (Dark) - @kkatsukiswife

okay fine not technically satosugu buuuut it's so so good so pls read!!! it's fem!gojo dark sapphic fic so you know its amazing. basically the mc is fem!suguru's ex and satoru gets jealous cuz of how perfect the mc is but then ends up obsessing over the mc too. so ig it kinda counts as satosugu cuz suguru and the mc used to date!

Welcome Home - NovaRising

satosugu +sukuna but still counts imo. mc grandfather passes away so they go back to Japan only to realize three strangers are living in their grandfathers house. Super super good! I know it's technically not completed buuuut imo the story is perfect as it is!

Surprise! - @thee-horny-thicky

amazing!!!! i love it so so much!!! mc is suguru's gf but they both go back to visit satoru in japan and things escalate from there. And the author did mention that more satosugu threesome fics were being planned so lets cross our fingers!!!!!

Nurture(Dark) - @yandere-daydreams

There is a first part, but its satoru-centric. The story is told in alternating flashbacks where suguru is the mc's past and satoru is the mc's present (for now). I especially love it cuz the mc is older (like mid-thirties). it's so refreshing cuz typically the mc is always like late teens and early twenties. This fic actually inspired Monsoon! I totally forgot to add that in the a/n

honorable mentions

Stuck in Jogo's body - 2BeorNot2Be

once again not a satosugu fic but this is so underrated despite the amazing idea??? its exactly what it sounds, reader swaps bodies with jogo and has to pair up with gojo to figure out how to undo the swap. it's so amazing pls go read I'm begging you!!!!!

[nightlyrequiem]

Would you consider writing something about detective reader and Valeria? I think it would be so cool that reader is looking for her and she’s fascinated (maybe in a twisted way/maybe she isn’t a really good person) and Valeria is interested in her bc of how she matches Valerias energy. Idk!!

One unhinged woman? I'm in love. Two unhinged women? I died and went to heaven.

I purposefully left the ending a little open ended because I want to come back to this and write a part two someday

I <3 evil women

Tags/Warnings: WLW, Violence, Stalking, Valeria and Reader Fight, Reader Has Questionable Morals

Alikeness

 Observant. Persistent. Obsessive. All qualities that successful detectives should have. You've been doing this for ten years. Like a bloodhound with a scent, no case remains unfinished when assigned to you. A good detective revolves their life around their work. A good detective is her work. You know your preoccupation with your job isn't healthy. You've lost little pieces of yourself every case. Chipped away at yourself until something new and distorted crawled out from it's shell. the newest thing bouncing around inside your skull is El Sin Nombre. A notorious and influential Mexican drug cartel leader. No one has been able find his true identity. Allowing him to live up to his moniker. Your eyes burn as you stare at your computer screen. At three different headshots belonging to three different former special forces officers. He may not even be a he.

Truman Wenchow, Seth Veros, and Valeria Garza. All had gone awol after La Araña had been dethroned. You can feel it deep beneath your skin. An inkling that has never steered you wrong that one of these individuals is your person. Finding out that Seth has died sometime in twenty-twenty narrow things down. Corruption isn't uncommon. Not in Las Almas. the reigning Cartel has always had its claws sunk deep into the local authority systems. Everyone has a price after all. Local is usually where it ends though. El Sin Nombre is far too ambitious to stay in the confines of 'local'. El Sin Nombre has expanded their reach into the hearts of Puerto Rico, Ecuador, El Salvador, and the States. This bleeds deeper than you thought. The closer you get to the truth the more dangerous this becomes.

Only a few weeks ago, just a shy of a month, you began receiving threats. Warnings to stop. It had the opposite affect intended. Your mind glossed over the words spelled out for you and instead rearranged them into something else entirely. 'You're close. Come find me.'  this could very well kill you, you're aware. late nights spent in the darkest corners of the internet have shown you just exactly what cartels are capable of. You find yourself unafraid. You've done similar things in pursuit of answers, and you will do worse to obtain more.

Out of the three suspects on your list, only one still lives in Mexico. as elusive as she is. All you're able to find are traces. Breadcrumbs left behind. Credit card history, grainy camera footage. Government documents. Getting information on Valeria Garza was like pulling teeth. Only a few former brothers in arms were able to offer up meager footnotes about the woman of the past. headstrong, ambitious, violent, efficient. You were able to track down her home, though. An unassuming property located on the quieter side of town. It's not the home one would expect a wealthy drug lord to keep but you've found that exteriors rarely match their interiors.

The sky is clear and inky. A high half-moon and it's thousand glittering eyes watch over you as wait outside of Valeria's home. It's neat and taken care of. There's a single car parked in the driveway. A dark colored SUV. Not a light on inside the house. Valeria is inside. El Sin Nombre is inside. Asleep in one of the rooms. Such a human action for such a monolithic figure. You pull on your gloves and check to make sure your firearm is working before getting out of your car. Seek and destroy. You walk up to Valeria's home with confidence. Sticking close to the rough, stony wall as you head towards the back. The backdoor is naturally locked, and you know already that she doesn't keep a spare key. 

You always come prepared. You deftly pick the lock. Listening for that small click that has accompanied you for every final act. You slowly push open the door. Overly cautious of creaking and step inside. Her kitchen is tidy. Counters free of dishes and bags. A small bowl of fruit that's beginning to rot sits dead center on the kitchen island. You make it two steps inside when she speaks. Hidden away by shadows, glaring at you from the hallway.

"You don't have a warrant to be in here, detective."

 Of course you don't have a warrant. there are leaks in the police department and trying to obtain one is not only a lengthy hassle but could also alert her that you're closing in. You prefer to keep your cards close to your chest. You turn your head to face her. Barely making out her outline.

"No, I don't." You reply calmly. You don't have a warrant. Legally you can't step foot into her home. Not that it matters to you, you have to be above the law to enforce it and there are workarounds to everything. Your heart pounds with excitement and fear. You're finally face to face with El Sin Nombre.

She steps into the kitchen. A sliver of pale moonlight cuts across her face. You can see her better. In a wife beater and sweatpants. A gold chain glinting from around her throat.

"You must have-"

You don't let her finish speaking. You have only one goal in mind and that is to exterminate. You raise your arm with the intent to kill. Her reflexes are faster, and she lunges at you. Knocking your arm down fast enough that the bullet you fire shoots into the ground by her foot. You've been in physical altercations before. Have had to fight off people. However, you were prepared for a fight those times. Valeria is much stronger than you thought. The wind is knocked out of you as you slam into the ground. The gun slides away from you and bumps into the wall but you don't freeze and panic at the loss of your weapon. You're exhilarated. Mustering up the strength to shove her off of you.

You have but a few short seconds to get your bearings before she's coming at you again. A stray punch catches you in the gut. It's nauseatingly painful and you double over, narrowly missing a blow to the head. you shove down the pain and lash out. Slamming your fist into her neck. Valeria splutters but to your dismay she barely reacts. She grabs ahold of your neck and throws you to the ground. Your back smacks down on the hard black and white tiled floor. Pain blooms purple flowers throughout your shoulders as you struggle beneath her. You hear the click of a gun and stare down its barrel. The both of you breathing heavily and regarding each other with caution. Valeria sets a foot down on your chest to keep you still.

"I have you under surveillance." She says quietly. "I was tipped off about you leaving your house. I knew you were coming here."

 Valeria's strength impresses and aggravates you. "Good for you." You reply. There's not much hope that you'll regain the upper hand here, but you cling onto that small slice of it.

"Very good for me."

You silently understand that you haven't succeeded this time. The thought angers you. You're going to die in here on her floor. Your body thrown to the streets for the stray dogs to pick at.

"I suppose this is it for me then." You murmur. deceptively calm. You've done good, but you've also done bad. Maybe this is just your punishment for all the wrongs you've done.

Valeria lowers her arm, keeping her gaze tethered to yours. There's no anger in those dark pits of nothing.

"I couldn't stand you at first." She begins. "Coming into my town and snooping around. I was going to just kill you."

You furrow your brows. "So why didn't you?" You wheeze. You wish she'd take some pressure off of your chest.

"I did my own research." She hums. "You're just an evil little thing."

Your skin prickles at being referred to as evil. "I am not evil. I find it and rid this world of it. Of people like you."

Valeria cocks her head at you, dark brows raised. "You kill the people you uncover." She laughs. "Putting you on a case is like is like putting someone to death. And last I checked it's not up to you to decide of someone is worthy of death."

"I do what needs to be done. You can relate to that, I'm sure. You've had such an impressive career, from military ranks to commanding a cartel. I bet you're very proud." You hiss. Her success is envying.

"It sounds like you admire me." she remarks, adding more pressure to your chest. Pushing out the breath from your lungs.

"You have admirable traits." You admit begrudgingly. "Too bad you used them the wrong way." the pressure is suddenly lifted as she backs up from you. Giving you room to stand. there's a dull ache in your stomach as you do.

"I was going to kill you," She continues, waving the gun at you. "but you're deranged, really. So dedicated to your cause." She says. "And I respect that, I really do. I think you can really hone those skills of yours and become something great."

"I am great." You growl. Disgusted and elated at having her respect. she smiles and trails the gun down your jaw, the cool metal sending goosebumps over your skin. Valeria just scoffs and steps away from you.

"You're arrogant and delusional." She says. "You have potential, come back when you're ready to use it."

You pause, confused.

"You're not going to kill me?" You question. Leaving you alive is a fool's decision and Valeria didn't strike you as a fool. 

"You won't be able to kill me," She says. "and I know you won't go to the police because you like to take credit for finding and 'punishing' people yourself."

Those words make you uncomfortable. It makes you sound like you're only doing it to soothe some deranged urge inside of you. You are doing it for the greater good. Your hands stay dirty to keep the world clean.

"You and I are alike." Valeria remarks quietly. Not looking away from you.

You won't be able to do anything now. Valeria has a gun, and you don't. She's right. About you not going to the police. It's not because you want to the credit. It's not. It's because you don't believe they'll do what needs to be done. Only you can. Police can be bribed, you can't. You raise your chin with defiance and take a step back towards her door.

"Be restless, Valeria." You warn. That's all you say before you turn and leave the way you came. Expecting a bullet to the back of your head that never comes. This isn't the last time you and El Sin Nombre meet. The next time it happens, one of you will die and it won't be you.

[blingblong55]

Money, Money, Money- 141 X Reader X F1

Based on a request:

Idk if i can put in two requests but please. PLEASE I fucking love f1 Give more cod x f1 I dont care who and what and where, i just need more fics like that Thx for everything bestie(Feel free to ignore) --- GN!Reader, 141 x reader x f1

So I must leave, I'll have to go To Las Vegas or Monaco And win a fortune in a game, my life will never be the same

The fame, the women/men that wanted you to date them, and the adrenaline, are all worth it and all possible if you drive in Formula 1. Twenty of the best drivers in the world, all in ten separate teams, every other weekend for 23 times a year you race around the globe to become the desired World Champion of that season. There was something that was missing, your friends, the military men you met years ago when one got lost and they ended up finding you.

"R/N!" Soap called, running to you for yet another exciting weekend. They were home from a mission and all seemed to be in a good mood. Ghost and Gaz even made sure to bring their caps to support your team. Soap played the role of the boyfriend so other women/men would not bother you. Price made it look like he was your father figure and Gaz and Ghost were always suspected to be your siblings or best friends. Of course, Ghose became loved by your fans, a man who wore a cap and a black surgical mask had become attractive to them. He never cared for it, would sometimes give the camera the bird and soon they learned to never show him again.

The four men had become your luck charm, the drawings of a bar of soap, cap, skull and a bonnie all on your helmet for every race. In a way, they became the second family whilst on the road. It was nice, you got to keep real friends close and have fun and good memories with them.

Soap for some reason played the role of your partner far too well. Suspicions amongst drivers and the media grew as the time went by. Truthfully, if he was your partner, he'd be as supportive as he is now. Maybe even more. Some of the other drivers need police escort whilst all you need is your best mates. Race after race, they would either hear your answerphone or you'd be on screen pointing at your helmet, your four drawn luck charms on it.

This race was one you were looking forward to, the Brazilian GP. All honouring the late Ayrton Senna, the favourite driver in Brazil, Hamilton and rooting for your two current rivals, Verstappen and Sainz. By Tuesday, you met up with Price, he was alone, which was weird. Soap was usually the first hug of the day. "So, where are the rest?" you kindly ask.

"Getting some rest, they had a rough flight." a lie he told that you believed. In truth, they had used this visit for a mission, most people would be focused on the race and that meant they had time to execute some mission. You believed him because the only lie he had told years ago was that they were just pub mates on a weekend out, never that they were trained soldiers who happened to be in the elite military force that is known as SAS. Brutal, strong and agile, that is who they are, not pub mates.

As the day went on, Price disappeared from sight. Instead of the usual welcome lunch they'd have with you, you walked around the paddock, wandering like a child.

Hours went on, but no text or call. Just a greeting from the answerphone, "It's me, just leave a message." But that's the problem, you never left a message, They knew how nervous this race was for you, Soap would always answer but why not now? You needed his usual comments, the banter Ghost gave and the shoulder pats Gaz gave you.

Somewhere in the country, the men executed their mission with absolute perfection. Few bruises and scratches, nothing new except this time they lied to you, if it wasn't for their mission to be in Brazil and your race to be happening at the same time, they would have not shown up. They'd be elsewhere, fighting for a good reason but not visiting you at the track. Gaz felt awful, having to lie to his best friend about what he was doing, even after them confining in you about what they do for a living, they still wouldn't and don't expect you to actually understand their reasoning for not telling you about this mission.

There you were, on the big screen as you answered questions over the best qualifying session you've had all season. They sneak in, trying to pretend like they didn't just kill the enemy and its soldiers.

"A perfect qualifying, what do you say to that R/N?" the interviewer said. You sigh in contentment, "Yeah, well it is amazing to have had such amazing times at each lap, I'm sure the team and I will want to keep these numbers and maybe go faster for tomorrow's race." You say and most of the crowd cheers in agreement. Soap should know but this time around he is lost, how great was your time? Did you go for pole position or are you just in the top three? Gaz definitely feels like a bad friend, not there to actually watch you like he always did.

After each qualifying, you'd greet them, run up to them and hug them but because you thought they weren't there, you just went towards the team and hugged them. From a distance, the men saw you celebrate as if they never existed in your life. It was them who you were supposed to hug, them who you should run up to. Soap was supposed to pat your helmet and you'd complain about it later.

Usually after the hug, you'd greet fans then the usual interviews or meetings with the team would take place. It wasn't until after 8 at night that they saw you again. They learned that you broke a new record for the team. Your speed was impeccable, and they weren't even there to witness such a memorable moment for you.

A/N: I think I went off my original idea to this...sorry

Tags: @agasawit

[burn-before-reading]

hiii! could i pls request reader x joost where reader meets his friends??? (stuntje, apson, tantu etc.) :3 thank u!!

Smitten

Joost Klein x shy! reader

word count: ill count it later

warnings: anxiety, imposter syndrome

a/n: This one got away from me. it was supposed to be shorter hahaha. idk if its what you expected but i had fun writing it :) not related to this fic but i love this picture so much Joost in skirts yall <3

also mini life update im finishing school rn so thats my focus. won’t completely abandon this blog but ill be offline a lot

RPF Below the cut ——

“We komen te laat, liefje” (we are gonna be late, love.)

You quickly slipped your shoes on and grabbed your jacket before meeting him at the door. opening your arms you do a little spin to show off your outfit.

“I look okay?”

“Yes, you look beautiful don’t worry.”

“Okay okay. Do the shoes match tho? I think maybe the black boots went with it better, and the shirt feels too fancy, gimmie like five-“

“Schatje,” he coos, grabbing your shoulders to steady you. He starts rubbing them slowly and you take a big breath in and out to relax yourself. “Its just my friends, they’re gonna love you I promise.”

“I know I know, I just wanna make a good impression.” you smile up at him sheepishly and he goes to kiss your forehead. he lets you go but moved his hand to grab yours and intertwines your fingers and tugs you gently out the door.

You make it to Tantu’s apartment about twenty minutes later, and you feel like you need a pep talk all over again. Joost feels your hesitation at the door and squeezes your hand tighter for reassurance before knocking. You can’t really say for sure why you are so nervous meeting his friends, but then the door opens and you are greeted by tantu himself. He introduces himself and immediately pulls you into a hug.

“we’ve heard so much about you. come in come in.”

The two of you walk in and you quickly scan the guests of the house party. Joost is familiar with most, but to you its a room of strangers and you feel all the butterflies in your stomach begin to turn. Joost leads you to where his main group of friends reside and you try to just focus on him and the feeling of your hand in his.

“Hey guys, this is y/n, my partner.” Joost introduces you to the group. “y/n, thats Apson, Alanis, Stuntje, and you met Tantu of course..” he takes the time to introduce each of his friends, and they all quickly wave or say hi to you. The girl you learned was Alanis stands up to shake your hand and go in for a hug as well, startling you again, but once again appreciating how friendly they are being.

“Hi, we’ve heard so much about you! great to finally meet you.” She takes both your hands and holds them. “You should sit.” she starts to pull you away from Joost and you turn and make a face that implies help? he just shrugs. “Theres drinks in the kitchen, Joost, if you guys want something.” she says and he hesitates before walking away.

“ill be okay for a second i promise.” you reassure. you see him slightly mouth something, probably in dutch, to Tantu, but he just shrugs and smirks before following behind.

You sit down and start to feel all their eyes on you. Tapping your foot nervously, you try to find the words to start a conversation, but Apson beats you to it.

“So you work at a coffee shop, right?” he asks. you nod.

“Yeah, for the last couple years or so. Its where I met Joost actually.” You see him just nod and smile, like he’s heard a version before.

“So, uh… what do you guys do for a living?” you ask and they start going around describing all their different creative jobs. Director, music production, art, content creation. The whole variety of creative jobs and it just makes you feel small. They are all so successful. Joost is so successful.

What are you doing here.

“So you and Joost have been dating for Three months, right?” Alanis asks, and you turn to her again.

“Uh, something like that. Its probably a little closer to 2 actually, but I guess we’ve been talking for a but longer than that so uh..” You feel a lump in your throat and start rapidly checking the room for Joost but he is no where to be seen. In your scan, you see a balcony that seems mostly empty so you quickly stand up and make an excuse to leave. “sorry, Uh, im gonna check on Joost.” you say and quickly walk the exact opposite direction of the kitchen and to the balcony. Two seconds later Joost comes back with two drinks in his hand and sees the empty spot where you should be. Glancing at the looks on his friends faces he just sighs.

“what the fuck, guys.”

-

On the balcony you try and use the fresh air to calm yourself down. Taking a breath in and out you just close your eyes in an attempt to center yourself. The sound of the screen door opens and closes behind you and you hear a voice pipe up.

“Sorry if we overwhelmed you. Joost told us you might be shy.” Alanis apologies. You open your eyes and smile at her.

“Its okay. Just feeling a bit out of place is all.” you reply and she tilts her head at your comment.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, you guys have all these super cool creative jobs, you’ve all known each other for so long it seems. Ive just barely met you all and I can already feel the talent and charisma radiating off you guys. I just make boring coffee.”

“Oh thats nonsense, you’re not boring at all. Joost wouldn’t have gone out of his way to go to your work every day if you were.” she smiles, “If we came off as overly friendly, its just because we were excited to meet the person Joost has been so taken with these past few months.”

“Guessing he talked about me a lot, huh?”

“Since day one.”

that admission piqued your interest a bit. “really?”

“Im serious. He walked out your shop that day and immediately texted Apson, ‘Just met the love of my life’ I don’t even think he had your name yet.” she laughs and you laugh a little as well learning about this side of Joost. You had known that he had been going out of his way to visit the shop you worked at as often as possible, but you didn’t know how taken he was with you right away.

“ I knew he started stopping by often, I just thought he liked our pastries.”

“He was Smitten. sorry again for being so overwhelming. Joost came back and lectured us all the second you left.” she admitted. The idea of Joost being so upset at his friends being too welcoming made you laugh.

“Its alright. Just feeling a bit overwhelmed i suppose.”

“Mind if I smoke?” Joost knocks on the open glass door before joining the two of you. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him before lighting his cigarette and taking a drag. he takes his cigarette with his free hand to lean a little closer to you and whispers. “alles goed, liefje?" (you alright, love?)

you nod and Smile at Alanis. “Yes, just needed some air. your friends are nicer than I expected.”

He nods and squeezes your waist before taking another drag and offering you his cigarette.

“I think im gonna head back inside. you two will be good?” Alanis asks and you smile and nod.

“I’ll join you in a sec.”

She heads back in. the second she is gone Joost immediately asks. “so how much did she spill?”

“only the good stuff.” you look at him and grin. “don’t worry I was smitten from day one too.”

[fishii-writes]

sunsetz - sae itoshi

paring: sae x gn!reader

cw: not proofread, ooc sae (sorry i tried...), sae's a passenger princess, mentions of sadness but not rlly angst, just silly fluff tbh, idk where the beaches of japan are so shh pretend its correct :3

a/n: a fic for my pookie tara <3 hope its good cus the isagi one lwk sucked 😭 would you believe me if i said this whole fic was inspired by the line "the sunlight on your face, in my rear-view" from sunsetz?

word count: 1507

best paired with: sunsetz by cigarettes after sex <3

A silence lingers in the car between you and your boyfriend. A somewhat tense silence. Not because of an argument of any sort, it was just that neither of you had spoken up. Which was okay, you didn’t seem to want to talk yet. The soft hum of the music playing was the only thing keeping you from thinking you’re burdening him. Usually, he doesn’t skip practice, not even for you. And you understand why he doesn’t, but today was different. Did he really have a choice if you came all the way to his training place to pick him up? He wasn’t complaining, though.

So that’s why you’re in his car, eyes focussed on the road as his hand rests on your thigh. The tips of his fingers lightly trace little shapes into your skin, soft enough that you shiver every so often, but also soft enough that they don't distract you from the road. After about twenty or so minutes of driving with no exact location in mind, you pull into a parking lot near a park. Your boyfriend slightly tilts his head, confused. 

You open the car’s door, get out and he does the same. Once you lock the car, you take his hand and silently start walking down one of the few paths. He doesn’t question, though he’s confused. He simply walks with you, tenderly squeezing your hand. Once you reach a bench in front of a small playground, you gesture for him to sit down, then you do as well.

After another moment of silence, he speaks up.

“You usually don’t ask me to leave practice on such late notice, let alone coming all the way to pick me up. What’s wrong?” in the face of his lover looking clearly distressed, he can’t help but soften the way he speaks. There you have it, the usually hostile Sae Itoshi, getting down on one knee in front of you and listening to your worries. He’d always do it, and it’s just for you.

“I… just wanted to see you,” you finally speak up, words coming out a bit breathy. Something clearly was stressing you, but Sae couldn’t tell what it was. To be honest, neither could you. It was just one of those days where things didn’t feel great. So what better way to cheer up than a late afternoon walk with your boyfriend? 

He softly sighs, taking one of your hands and holding your fingers between his and his palm. His thumb rubs over your knuckles, soothing whatever was making you so tense to his touch.

“Come, let’s walk for a bit. Maybe it’ll distract you?” he stands up, your hand still in his as he shifts to intertwine your fingers. You nod, standing up to walk with him again. 

It’s hard not to fall for someone like Sae. Yeah, sure, he’s a successful and attractive man. But there’s also that part of him that none of his teammates or the world will see. Only you. Only his world would see it. 

With your hand in his, you eventually feel yourself relax. The way the light wind brushes his hair from his face, and the way his lips are pressed into a line… it’s but a sight to behold. If you’re ever worried that you’re staring for too long, don’t be. His eyes may only flicker to you every few minutes, but you’re like a film tape on repeat in his mind. That pretty smile of yours, along with that pretty laugh. If he could and if it made sense to do so, he’d describe each individual feature about you with the word “pretty”. 

The two of you walk for a bit longer, simply exchanging stolen glances and enjoying each other’s presence. Afterall, just being with him was your cure to this sudden melancholy. After what seems like forever, even to the ever stoic Sae Itoshi, a soft sigh escapes your lips. His eyes flicker to yours once more, but this time, they stay locked on yours.

“Feeling a bit better?” while his lips didn’t quirk up even a bit at the corners, his eyes were a different story. Almost, just barely, his eyes looked like they were smiling. And maybe that was enough for you to be okay. A small smile forms on your lips, as you feel him squeeze your hand again gently. 

“Yeah, thanks,” the small smile lingers on your lips for a moment longer, one that has his heart fighting to admit that he’s got butterflies. Your pretty smile, the one he so badly wants to wipe right off your lips, is making him act like a child. Like some teenage boy who’s crush just waved at him! A lovestruck idiot, even!

If Sae could choose a sound to listen to repeat for the rest of his life, it would be your laugh, or the way you say his name. That’s what knocked him out of his lovesick trance.

“Sae, let’s go play on the swings,” you giggle at his zoned out state, turning your back to him as you skip over to the children’s swings in the small playground close to the path you were walking on. Still a bit dazed, he sits down on the one beside you. For what’s just a mere swing, in a - as Sae would say - ‘lukewarm’ children’s playground, it feels like… where he’s meant to be. With you. There, it hits him, it doesn’t need to be a place that feels like “home”, it’s anywhere with you. You don’t notice him get off the swing beside you, as he stands beside you.

“We should do this more oft-” you get cut off by him stopping your swing, holding one of the side chains to stop it. Unfortunately, he didn't think it through, and you fell right off the swing. To your surprise, you hear a soft chuckle. It certainly wasn’t yours, but you’re not offended that someone was laughing at you. In fact, you’re almost glad. 

But being glad doesn’t mean that annoyed pout on your face won’t stay there for a moment or two. Of course, it fades away the moment Sae reaches out to help you up, gently brushing any dirt off your clothes and apologising. That chuckle from earlier was long gone, but a soft pink hue still dusts his cheeks. The moment he notices your mouth opening to say something, probably to tease him, he interupts.

“Let's head back, I'll drive,” he takes your hand again, intertwining your fingers before leading you back to the car. You unlock it, sitting down in the passenger seat while Sae sits in the driver’s seat. 

The ride home was less tense than the ride to the park. A silence fills the car, a comfortable silence. The soft hum of music playing sets the mood to something you don’t have to be tense about, this time around. It just feels… right. Like it doesn't feel like you’re burdening him with your requests or feelings for once. 

“Hey, about today,” you break the silence, voice soft. You see Sae’s eyes flicker to you for a moment, and he slightly nods. You continue. “Thank you. I’m sorry you had to miss practice, for no reason.” you slightly frown, your hands fiddling with the hem of your shirt. 

To your surprise, the next time Sae stops at a red light, he takes your hand and kisses the back of it, eyes locked onto yours for a short moment. When the light turns green again, he holds your hand with one of his, up to his lips and softly mumbles against it. His other hand continues to grip the steering wheel, his eyes on the road.

“It’s my pleasure, love. Never a bother if it's you, so don’t apologise, yeah?” from the corner of his eyes, he can see your lips turn into a flustered smile. He can’t help but let a soft smile adorn his lips, in response to your own.

You hum in response, quietly thanking him. He kisses the back of your hand once more, before returning his hand to the steering wheel. The rest of the ride goes smoothly, occasional chatter helps pass time. It was clear neither of you wanted the evening to end, so he drove around for a bit longer. 

Somehow, he had driven all the way to the beach. The car slows down a bit, to let you properly take in the sunset. He watches you through the rearview mirror, how the sunlight adorning your gorgeous face begins to dim. The way your eyes were a perfect shade already, but the ever dimming light just made them appear heavenly. He quickly opens the car door, as do you. 

“Wow…” your mouth gapes open a bit, as he lifts you up to stand on a stone ledge, so that you can see the horizon better. With his hands holding your waist securely, not a worry in the world can invade your mind. Not a single thought but him.

taglist: open (send an ask if you'd like to be added! :D) @starzcoded

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated!! <3

© fishii-writes 2024

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Quick Maintenance

Time Written - 11:42 p.m

(Idk where I was going with this, so it isn’t proofread.)

—

Your heavy eyes blinked, slipping in an out of mental focus from the soft snip snip near your right side. Minor tufts of wet hair trickled down your shoulder, sliding along your freshly washed graphic shirt.

“Stay still, baby,” he murmurs, tilting your chin up to keep a level field as focused eyes squinted to study his work.

Calloused hands held thin, little shears he pulled out from the bathroom drawer, snipping away at little uneven pieces of hair he left unchecked.

Work, school, the sheer stress of wondering what kind of person you were in this world would get to you. You weren’t always like this, priding yourself on not caring what the world thought, meanwhile beaming like a ray of sunshine to all those who knew you once you stepped out the door.

One of the toughest enemies you could ever face in your lifetime, who knows every gruesome detail of your agony, every weak bone in your body, holding each detail of your flawed skin to memory, was the teary eyed person that stared back at you in the mirror.

Some days you barely had the strength to get out of bed, brush your hair, or get some water.

If you didn’t have a bodyguard of a worrisome, golden retriever boyfriend leading you towards the bathroom for a haircut, bedrotting would’ve remained a much easier task.

Dick didn’t force you to cut your hair, the idea came to you before you took a shower. Maybe a minor change was needed, something new within your control to make you feel a little better. You came to him after your long, hot shower with said offer, the man slouched on the couch with brow raised.

“Can you help me cut my hair?” You asked, presenting him with some old scissors you fished out from under the sink.

What an offer to receive on such a late evening. Dick never felt happier to see you out of bed, hair wet and changed into a pair of fresh clothes. All anxiety for you melted off his shoulders, sparing his thumbnails from being chewed on a second longer.

“Of course,” he rises from the couch, said old scissors now in his hand. Now, he sat you ontop of the toilet, gently tilting your head side to side with care to make sure every cut was as clean and even as possible.

A favor for a favor, he thought. You helped him cut his hair when it looked way too outgrown to your liking, way past ‘sexy mullet,’ in obvious words. Nowadays, keeping his hair at jawline was both for preference and convenience, though maintenance would’ve been a pain if not for you.

You offered to cut it for him the first few times, he always questioned why. Gotham cuts hair starting at at least twenty five dollars, which he could obviously afford, but having your pretty fingers run through his locks? He’s trusted no one else since.

“Twenty five bucks is twenty five bucks.”

“Twenty five bucks could be spent on dinner for your stylist,” you’d muse, cute brows bowed in deep concentration on getting the length just right. Your prized perfectionist skills left him feeling in good hands.

“I’m proud of you, y’know,” he says to you, voice lowered to a concentrated level that soothed your ears. Any accomplishment you do on one of your bad days was a gold star in Dick’s book.

His support of soft, comforting words of praise acted like a chamomile balm on a soothing ache. Your mind eventually would be soothed, lulling you into a state of affection he provided so well, sometimes reducing you to tears.

“Though, I’m a little disappointed you didn’t use my body wash.” He mumbles, now using some smaller, much thinner scissors to catch the tiny wisps he missed, taking after your perfectionist tendencies.

A trickle of a smile lasted a few seconds on your lips. “Today didn’t feel like a ‘sea salt and cedar’ day, Richie.”

“Guess that’s fair, least you’re wearing my shirt,” his cheeky grin was contagious, your heart warming at the joy that erupted in his eyes in witness to your gorgeous smile.

“There. All done, beautiful.” Dick concludes, brushing remnants of hair off your shoulder before his thumb stroked along your cheekbone, planting a kiss on your forehead.

A short two step to the bathroom sink left you staring at yourself in the mirror once more, your desired length now becoming reality.

In all honesty, you didn’t exactly like the length of the haircut. Picturing it differently in your mind had you assuming more grand expectations on the outcome.

It wasn’t all new, but it was different, a good different. A good, new you, one you’d appreciate and cherish, because that’s what you always deserved.

Besides, Dick Grayson, your puppy eyed golden retriever would make sure you were satisfied with the outcome. How could you say you didn’t like it to such a handsome face? Impossible.

“How’s takeout sound?” He questioned, watching your hands busy themselves by brushing through your new hair, feeling visibly softer along your fingertips.

“I’m thinking … something spicy.” He slips an arm over your front accompanying a soft squeeze, gifting you a smile through the mirror’s reflection. “It feels like a spicy day, yeah?”

“Anything Sounds delicious,” you admitted, your body recognizing and remembering what hunger felt like after hours of feeling numb under soft blankets and pungent silence.

“Gotcha, I’ll call up a place.” Dick steps to the side, allowing you room before reaching for the sink drawer.

“Where’d you get these scissors, anyway? They’re so tiny.”

“Oh,” you quickly recall the memory, an event quite a long while ago while on an essentials stop at a local corner side pharmacy.

“Accidentally forgot to pay for them,” you hesitantly admit, recalling the particular day. Maybe you’d forgotten to pay for an eyebrow kit that came with an adorably small pair of gold trimming scissors.

“My girlfriend, the thief,” Dick repeats with feigned surprise, shaking his head in mocked disbelief.

“Ima have to report you for this,” he smirks, glancing at you out the corner of his eye. “How much were these, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Like, seven bucks?”

“Huh,” Dick clicks his tongue before plopping said scissors back into their designated drawer, promptly sliding it shut.

“Seven bucks is seven bucks.”

[bobbin-buckley]

That Girl Is Mine

Tara Carpenter x Saxophoneplayer!Fem!Reader

Summary: You play saxophone with a band called “Sweaters In Fall”, you and another girl plus three other guys are in it. You’re girlfriend Tara comes to see your biggest concert at the Radio City Music Hall (NYC), after the concert things do seem to work with you in the band

Warnings: Fluff, Cat-Calling, Little bit of blood, Pervert, sexual mentions, lots of cursing, some punching

Y/F/B: Your Favorite Band

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

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

It’s the night before you and your bands performance at the Radio Music Hall.

You were very nervous, it was unusual for you to be this nervous. It wasn’t because of the people but it was because your girlfriend was coming to watch with her friends and her older sister Sam.

Not that you were scared of Tara being there, you were excited that the dark brunette and her friends were coming, it was just Sam.

Sam never really liked you, she had her suspicions. You respected that since after what they’ve gone through was tragic. This special night wasn’t just about winning an award to you but it meant to prove yourself worthy for Tara, you wanted Sam to see your talent and maybe she’ll like you. Maybe….

“Yo Y/n! What’s got ya all worked up?” Your bandmate Damien asked, he was a nice guy, he was a tall lengthy black man about in his middle twenties. “You’re not all pumped up like you normally are during rehearsal.”

“Just nervous I guess…” “Nonsense! You’re never nervous!” Kayleen hyped. Kayleen was your best friend, you guys were pretty close she was the reason why you joined the band. Damien and the other two guys were a little eh about another Saxophone player joining, but the raven hair just glared at them and had you join. You were the high voice of the group, the great Alto Sax player.

“Yeah, Y/N/N, you seem so low right now and you’re the loudest person normally.” Pip spoke, Pip was your 3rd favorite of the group. He was pretty quiet the majority of the time but he indeed was a fantastic Trumpet player. ‘Pip the Pipet’ Damien gave him the nickname, Pip hated it but he’s adjusted to it now since it sticks with him.

You all had nicknames, yours was Sexy Sax (boy you hate it but at this point you don’t care, Tara teases you about it), Kayleen’s was Sax Positive, every time you hear that nickname you can’t help but laugh a little. Damien’s is Damn Keyboard (idk) as he played keyboard in the band. Last but not least Dan…

you hated Dan oh boy, if you were to go ghostface he’d be the reason.

Dan was a creep in your opinion. Nobody else agreed though, he was just very…odd. He was an older man, I’d say in his early 40’s, he does have a lot of experience in jazz and band in general but he seemed off…every time after your solo in one of the songs you’d catch him looking at you with heart eyes, you’d catch him doing it to Kayleen as well. Eugh…you hate him

“Yeah baby stop being so low, your supposed have a high pitched voice in the band. If you know what I mean.” Dan said…flirted?

You wanted to throw up after he said that. Fuck he gives you the jeepers creepers.

“I’m fine guys I swear. It’s just my girlfriend is coming to watch tomorrow and her sister..isn’t quite found of me..” you rambled.

“Sorry to hear that champ. But everything will go great! Just…focus on yourself and not the crowed.” Damien explained, you have him a nod.

“Well, it’s getting late guys we should head home for the night,” everybody nodded in agreement with Pip.

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

It was a quick walk home, you hadn’t lived far from Damien’s house. Which is where you guys rehearsed most days unless the Blackmore’s band director lets you in.

Moonlight On the River by Mac DeMarco was playing in your ears, your saxophone in case swaying in your left hand as you trotted in the perfect white snow on New York’s streets to your way home.

You swore someone was following you, feeling eyes staring at the back of your head. You stopped in your tracks turning around to see no one.

Maybe it’s an animal or my imagination?

You thought

As paranoid as you used to be it’s been higher ever since you heard about the ghostface attacks. Tara always pushed you away when you met, you weren’t sure why until you discovered she was The younger sister of Sam Carpenter.

Eventually you told her you don’t care about some psycho idiot under a ghost mask with a knife.

It wasn’t long after you confessed that you really liked her and started the first date. It’s been a few months since you guys started dating, you both were happy.

You told Tara you’d always be there for her if she wanted to talk about everything or anything else that’s keeping her down. She appreciates you for that, but also doesn’t want to burden you because she knows you have your own issues.

Opening your apartment door, stepping in and feeling the nice warmth greeting you. You flicked on the lights with your free hand after slipping off your shoes and walked to your bedroom.

You sat down your saxophone in the corner of your room as well as your backpack, coat. Walking over to your bed taking the snow covered sweater and sweatpants you were wearing off. (I’m more masc btw so masculine wear)

Putting on a white-T with a sweatshirt over that has Y/F/B on it and throwing on a black pair of sleep pants. That’s when your phone started buzzing in your bag.

You grabbed your bag again and opened it to grab your phone, seeing that your one and only was calling you.

With a smile you pressed the green button without hesitation and pulled the phone to your ear.

“Hey Baby!”

You blushed at her voice and nickname

“Hey Tar, how was your day?”

“Not bad, just- some arguing with Sam. You know, the usual.”

“Sorry to hear that, what was it about? If you done mind me asking.”

“It’s fine love, it was just about me walking alone to school. She needs to grow up sometimes, I mean I do appreciate her safety, it’s just a pain up my ass all the time.”

You understood Tara’s annoyance, your mom was the same. She’d harp on you about being safe even if your taking out the trash, (though you don’t live with her no more)

Sam was always protective, ever since the first Ghostface incident. Sam has prevented Tara from having outside friends (definitely after Quinn and Ethan).

That’s why Sam dislikes you, she’s scared you’ll be the next ghostface. But Tara wants Sam to understand that she’ll fall in love at some point, and she already has. It’s you

You’re the lucky girl

“Yeah I know hun, hey tell you what. Tomorrow night I’ll prove Sam with my magical music talent that I’m worthy!”

Tara chuckled, “sure baby, you are quiet talented my musical girl. I’m excited for tomorrow, by the way, how was practice?”

“Good, Kayleen and the boys are hyped. I think we’re all ready, I’m just a bit nervous…” you said, biting your nails.

“Why nervous Y/N/N? You’re never nervous.”

“That’s what the band said..haha.” You paused with a fake laugh. “I guess it’s me trying to prove how good I am to Sam, and how important you are to me.”

“Honey, even if Sam didn’t care about tomorrow then screw her, cause you shouldn’t care about what Sam thinks. It’s Sam! But I know Sam will get your trust eventually she just has a hard time opening up,” you sigh, “plus I think she’ll love it. Sam really likes music if you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t know actually, but thanks Tar.”

“No problem baby, I gotta go Sam needs my help with dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow night! Love ya!”

Your heart skipped a beat, “love you too, see ya!”

You smiled widely after Tara hung up. You were going to prove your worthy for Tara to Sam.

Sam doesn’t realize how much you love that little feisty girl

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

It’s currently 7:30

Your show starts in thirty minutes

Sitting on an old chair in the back room as Kayleen does a few more touches with your make-up

You weren’t a big fan of wearing make-up, but Kayleen insisted on you wearing some especially for tonight. It wasn’t crazy make-up, just some highlights and eyeliner, nothing punk looking but more casual.

“Cmon Y/N/N you’re our sexy sax you gotta look sexy,” you rolled your eyes. “Even Pip gets a little bit of a make-over!”

“Uh-what?” Pip quipped.

“…Annnnd done!” Kayleen exclaimed, “it’s your turn Pip!”

Pip groaned but gave in

“A-are we all getting make-up?” Damien asked.

“No, Pip just doesn’t get the option because he’s one of our big soloists! But if you want make-up I’d be happy to-”

“Absolutely not,” both Damien and Dan said. The raven shrugged and went back to work

“So Y/N/N? How are you feeling?” Damien asked, as he sat next to you.

“Better, I talked to my girlfriend last night and told about my nerves but she said I’ll be okay and other things.” “Awe, she must be a real sweet one.” You blushed as his comment, Tara was a sweet one even if she’s a little feisty at times.

“We have about ten minutes left.” Dan looked at his watch.

“Shit!!” Kayleen squealed.

You laughed at her antics when she jumped to grab more blush

“We’ve got time girl.”

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

Tara shifted in her seat as she looked around the interior of the Music Hall.

She’s never been inside the music building, she’s only passed in on walks, in a taxi or on the bus.

It was quite beautiful, the lights were pretty, the room was nice and warm and it was just gorgeous in general, it was a very open dome with a lot of people.

Sam didn’t want to spend a lot of money so they chose the middle seats on the balcony. Tara wouldn’t really be able to see you but the tv’s they had were enough to see your gorgeous face.

“God I’m so excited! Thanks again Sam!” Chad smiled bright. Mindy thanked her too.

“Of course,” Sam smiled. “Thanks Sam, seriously, you don’t know how much this means to me and especially Y/N/N.”

The older Carpenter smiled at her little sister.

“Up next we have our Jazz Band “Sweaters In Fall!!!”

When Tara heard your band name she perked up and watched ahead of her as she cheered with the crowed.

You and band walked up stage with your instruments, the keyboard and drums already set for Damien and Dan.

“Let’s meet our lovely band! Up first is Pip the Pippet! Our Trumpeter!” Pip smiled shyly.

“Second we have Sax Positive Kayleen!”

Mindy shook her head, “reminds me of Quinn sadly.” Tara chuckled a bit.

“Third we have Damien that Damn Keyboard!” Everybody laughed and cheered.

“Fourth we have Drummer Dan!”

“He looks like he’s sixty!!” Chad yelled. Tara didn’t like Dan, the stuff you’ve told Tara about him make her sick in the stomach but that feeling faded away once the guy announcing announced your name.

“Last but not Least! Y/N/N the Sexy Sax player!!” (Sorry not sorry)

Tara blushed when you waved a bit to the the crowed. Knowing you were looking for her.

“Let’s get this party started!”

~~~~~~~~~(sorry if it’s cheesy 😭)

You were at the last song of your album. The next song was more of something you wrote yourself. (Not actually 😭 cause that’d be copyright)

Tara cheered with the crowed once the song was finished. You eagerly searched for her in the crowed then spotted her a bit later.

You blew a kiss at her as she did it back.

“Cmon Y/n! We gotta go!” Pip called.

You nodded, taking one last glance in Tara’s direction before following your friends.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“That’s it! That was it my guys!” Damien screamed in victory.

“Eh it was alright-” “What do you mean it was alright Kay? That was our best yet!!” Pip cut off Kayleen.

You smiled bright once you entered the backroom. This was definitely the best performance you’ve had in awhile, and you were proud of that.

It didn’t matter to you if you won something but- it mattered that you did it. All you cared about was Sam liking you.

The band continued to talk about the performance whilst you put up your saxophone.

“Y/n!” You looked up at her voice.

Tara jumped into your arms with a big smile, Sam and her friends no too far behind.

“Hey babe! How’s you guys get in?” You looked over Tara’s shoulder, making sure no guards were about to run in saying they broke in.

“They let us in, I told them I was with you.”

“Now who’s this pretty lady?” Dan asked, he made your stomach curl and in a disgusted way.

“I’m Tara,” she said a little grossed out herself.

“Hey! Y/n, you can officially meet Sam now!” Tara turned to her older sister, motioning Sam to approach.

Sam looked at you with those ‘I don’t trust you eyes’. Sam scared you a bit, but being up close..Jesus you were more scared.

“Nice to meet you Y/n,” your eyes widened. Sam, Sam Carpenter being nice to you? She held out her hand waiting for you to shake it. “I-uh hi- S-Sam.”

Sam pulled her hand away and chuckled, “you don’t need to be afraid of me. Sorry for scaring you a bit, I’m a bit worried meeting new people. As Tara probably already told you.”

You nodded with a small smile. Tara was ecstatic with your first impressions on each other.

“Yo Y/n! You gonna introduce them?” Damien spoke.

“Oh uh- yeah! This is my girlfriend Tara her sister and friends. Guys this is Damien, Kayleen, Pip and-..Dan.” You pointed to the each of them.

There were some waves and hi’s

“Y/n, you didn’t tell me your girlfriend was hella hot.” Dan walked close.

“Excuse me?” Both you, Tara and Sam said.

“You heard me.”

You looked at Dan with hatred. “Back the fuck up.”

“Woah, no need to get all frisky babe.”

“Don’t fucking call her that!” Tara yelled.

You put a hand out in front of Tara, keeping her back.

“Damn, she’s loud too.”

“Shut the fuck up you perverted mother fucker!” You shoved Dan back, but it wasn’t long before he struck your nose with his fist.

You stumbled back, wincing and clutching your nose as it bled. “Y/n..”

“Oh come on Y/n, your worse than your are at pleasing her.”

That’s when Sam lost it as well. Sam punched Dan, you pushing Sam back to finish the job.

You grabbed him by the shoulders and slamming him against the wall. “I swear to fucking god! If you ever say any of those things ever again I’ll break your skull!!!”

“Hmp, I’d like to see you try.”

Damien and Sam both grabbed your arm before you got the chance to swing another punch at him.

“Let me go!!”

“Dan, get the fuck away! Go! You’re out of this fucking band!!” Damien screamed.

“Whatever, I didn’t want to be here anyways, I just wanted to see some ladies.” Dan chuckled.

You snarled. “Get him away from me.”

Damien and Pip nodded before getting Dan out of the room.

“Y/n-” “Let’s just go home.”

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

“How’s it feeling?”

You and Tara were in her bedroom. After tonight’s event, your hand was swollen and bleeding. Sam checked it and no brokenness to it, just some bruises and scratches, plus it’ll sting.

“Like shit.” You huffed, laying back on her bed. Tara already patched you up, it hurt like a bitch too.

“I’m sorry,” “no. I’m sorry, I should’ve just kicked him off the band way before!” You threw your hands up.

“Baby, it’s not your fault. It isn’t your fault he’s some fucked up pervert, but thank you for defending me.” Tara brushed her fingers through your sweaty hair.

“Anytime..” you smile. Tara leaned down to kiss you on the lips, placing her scarred hand on your unharmed cheek.

“I love you.” “Love you too.”

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

This is fuckin cheesy.

Sorry for not uploading this faster than I planned. Weird shit has happened this past week

I need ideas cause my brain hurts and I can’t think of anything rn

[flowerui]

♫ we both like apple cider, pgw

fluff & light angst, 4.1k words ୨୧ first fic on this blog! feedback is appreciated!! ^_^ i've had awful writer's block for MONTHS so i hope i havent gotten too rusty,,,

wherein dancing is your favorite way to destress, until a certain gunwook park goes and spoils it all.

꒰ requested. gender neutral reader (no pronouns or gendered terms used), reader is a year older than gw, dancer reader, bff hanbin, one-sided enemies to friends to lovers, college au, misunderstandings, set in the us, does this count as forced proximity? light angst, fluff (it gets so cheesy idk what happened to me), drinking/underage drinking ꒱

Dancing had always been your favorite way to unwind. After a long day of classes, practice is like a treat; the mental toll of having to listen to your professors drone on all day, and procrastinating assignments until the night they’re due is easily unraveled by dancing until you can’t feel your limbs—it’s unmatched.

That’s why, despite it being Wednesday (the second worst day of the week), you walk out of your last class with a skip in your step, like nothing could ruin your day.

Nothing except a man named Hanbin, that is.

After changing, you enter the practice room, ready to forget your worries. But before you can begin, you see a paper stuck on the wall beside the door—Hanbin must’ve finally put together the choreo for the solo and duet performances for an upcoming recital for some event on campus (truthfully, you can't be bothered to remember all the details, that's Hanbin's job), and decided on who’d best fit the roles. You’re a little late, so it’s just you who curiously shuffles over to take a look.

Seeing your name under Duet makes you smile until you read your counterpart's name. Gunwook Park.

You find a spot to sink to the floor in the back of the room. Suddenly, you’ve changed your perspective on dancing; it’s the worst thing to happen to you. You regret ever discovering this useless passion of yours, who even needs passions in this economy?!

Hanbin would tell you otherwise, but you believe that you have pretty good ideas.

You’d tried to take an easier route and complain to Hanbin that you absolutely could not work with Gunwook for a duet. But he was adamant about not making any alterations at this point, at least not just because you don’t like Gunwook—what a traitor, what happened to friendship?

Since complaining about your unfair working conditions did fuck all, you came up with a wonderful solution. You get paired with the number one person on your shit list? Just don’t show up to rehearsals. Boom, problem solved. Though it’s easier said than done; you’re a creature of habit, and the disappointment of remembering you can’t destress with dance is depressing.

And, of course, avoiding both Hanbin and Gunwook is a chore.

It’s on day four that you consider, maybe Hanbin is right sometimes. You were only successful in avoiding everything except schoolwork because college kicks everyone’s ass, and finding free time starts to feel like finding a needle in a haystack. But, maybe ditching practice when you live with the leader of your dance team wasn’t your best idea. On Sundays, both you and Hanbin usually end up being home at the same time.

And like an idiot, you forget this detail and trudge out of your room at two in the afternoon (no, you certainly did not just wake up, thank you very much) to find something acceptable to eat.

As you’re rummaging through the pantry, you hear your name called in that tone. The one where Hanbin’s voice sounds mildly shrill and a bit patronizing, the one that lets you know you’re in trouble.

Yeah, not your brightest idea—it might take over the number two spot of your top three worst ideas, followed by trying to gaslight a random group of people into believing that Play-doh is edible after you’d had a drink too many at your first college party at number one. (To be fair, you did not expect a twenty-something-year-old man to have Play-Doh on hand and tell you to prove it. Yes, you tried. You vomited on the guy’s shoes.)

Rigidly, you slowly turn to face Hanbin, who has a terse smile on his face.

“...Yes?”

“I thought maybe you hadn’t shown up to rehearsals because you weren’t feeling well, but yesterday, Gunwook told me every time he spotted you on campus, you naruto-ran away.”

“Uh,” you fake cough into your elbow, “Must’ve been someone that looks like me? ‘Cause I have been feeling kind of under the we—”

You shriek and make a run for it when Hanbin stomps over with that creepy hamster puppet you’d given him as a gag gift last year in hand. Eventually, you get cornered and get a creepy hamster puppet thrown in your face. “You can’t just ditch practice because you have some petty one-sided rivalry—or whatever it is—with Gunwook. You’re risking embarrassing the whole team! What are you planning to do, just not learn the choreography?”

“You know it's not a rivalry...” You grumble.

“You’re being childish,” Hanbin sighs, “I’ve already told you that whatever your deal is with Gunwook is some misunderstanding, he’s a sweet guy.”

“Yeah, whatever.” You huff, probably not helping the childish accusation. You’re tired of hearing that about what a good guy Gunwook appears to be because you know what you heard.

Without another word, you stomp off to your room.

If you had any hopes of getting out of going to rehearsal again, they’re promptly stomped on by Hanbin waiting outside of your class when you trudge out.

“Really?” You groan, and walk over to your supposed friend, “You don’t need to escort me.”

“I think I do,” Hanbin crosses his arms, fixing you with a look, like he knows you better than yourself… okay, he does ninety percent of the time, but that doesn’t mean he can act like it. “I’m pretty sure I saw you ready to head in the wrong direction before you saw me.” He says before grabbing your arm and pulling you down the hall.

“I don’t even get what your deal is with Gunwook,” Hanbin finally says when you’re about halfway to the studio, “I know you said you heard him say something… unsavory, but that just doesn’t sound like him at all. I think you should talk to him, I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding.”

“I know what I heard, Bin…”

“I’m not saying you didn’t hear what you heard, but maybe there’s some missing context.”

You try to consider Hanbin’s words, even as you absentmindedly head into the changing rooms, and reluctantly shuffle into the practice room afterward, you truly do. 

But all the rational thinking and breathing techniques in the world cannot quell your ire when you see Gunwook. Calmly walking over and refraining from saying anything uncouth is a true test of mental strength—one that you are quite afraid of failing.

“Hey—” Gunwook rises from his spot in the corner of the practice room to greet you.

“Let’s get started.” You blurt out, aware of how cold and biting your dismissal comes off. To be fair, Hanbin didn’t tell you to be particularly nice, he just insisted you show up.

“Oh, right,” Gunwook’s expression wilts, but he clears his throat and plasters a polite smile on his face. “I’m sure Hanbin already let you know he wouldn’t be here to help us out today—he’s helping Natty with her solo. I’ve got the choreo down, so I should be able to guide you if needed.”

“I practiced at home.”  You did. A little bit, it wasn’t easy with the limited space in your cramped—ahem, homey apartment. But practicing a duet by yourself, then giving up after stubbing your toe on every fucking piece of furniture in your home, and practicing it with your duet partner are two different things.

“Oh, that’s good… um, I’ll start the music.”

Your name is followed by an exasperated sigh. With reluctance—because your phone’s home screen is just that interesting—you glance up from your phone, to see Gunwook eyeing you through the mirror. 

“Could we try to get through the routine? Maybe without you scratching me this time?” Gunwook gnaws at his bottom lip, sweat beading at his temple. He’s actually been hard at work, practicing while you sat in the corner of the room—essentially sentenced to a time-out after accidentally scratching Gunwook every time you tried to run through the routine with him. Accidentally.

You can’t help the frown that sets on your lips. Only to you, it seems, Gunwook Park is an enigma. When he first joined the team, he seemed nice, and he wasn’t much younger than you, you just never got the chance to properly talk to him. However, now you never want to speak to him, the fact that you have to work so closely with him is nauseating.

Tampering down all the ugly word vomit bubbling in your throat, you mentally repeat Hanbin’s words from yesterday to yourself, ‘You’re risking embarrassing the whole team’. Not only do you find most of your teammates to be more than bearable, but you also you can’t bomb a performance because you were too petty to practice the choreography, so, even though the thought of being so close to Gunwook—having to touch him makes you full body cringe, you suck it up.

“Sure.”

Begrudgingly, you get into position and wait for your cue. As the music starts up for what feels like the billionth time that evening, you miss the many nervous glances cast your way.

Succeedingly, you manage to not cause any more bodily harm, even when you have no choice but to get close enough to Gunwook to the point you cannot look anywhere but into his eyes. The urge to flee strikes, as unease among other odd emotions you will not address churn in your gut, but you deal with it (read: ignore it).

You manage to run through the routine once, then again, and again, and again, until your limbs feel like gelatin and you have no option but to sprawl out on the floor. It occurs to you how much you missed this feeling, you can barely believe you let your pettiness get in the way of it.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

Turning your head to the side, there’s Gunwook, also sprawled out beside you. Huh, you don’t even have the negative energy within you to loathe his presence in the moment.

“You just did. But you can ask one more thing.”

A goofy grin splits Gunwook’s lips before he turns his head back to face the ceiling, expression shifting a little more seriously. “Did I… was there something that I like did? Or said to upset you?”

Oh. Right. So, you haven’t forgotten your distaste for Gunwook. You feel your good mood sour, as you scoff, and force yourself to finally sit up—your limbs are very much protesting, screaming at you, matter of fact, but fuck them. And fuck Gunwook Park. “Seriously?”

You glance over your shoulder, Gunwook, who sat up shortly after you, only blinks at you curiously, as though he hasn’t got a clue.

“You really don’t know? Do you just talk shit about everyone and that’s why you can’t seem to remember me?”

“What…?” Gunwook’s brows furrow, “What are you talking about?”

“I heard you." You push yourself up off the ground, fixing Gunwook with an exasperated look, "After our performance at orientation in August, you had a lot to say about my skill, and how ridiculous I looked.”

“I don't…?” You watch as the confusion and then the recognition passes over Gunwook’s features, “No, I—shit,” he hangs his head with a groan, which doesn’t serve to dissipate any of your arising confusion. “That wasn’t about you.”

“I heard you say my name, don’t bullshit me.”

“I—okay, I definitely said your name, but it seriously wasn’t about you. There was this, um, character in a film my roommate watched for some project; they were supposed to be a dancer, but they were godawful. I was talking about the character, and I didn’t even think about how they had the same name as you, or about how loudly I was talking about that.”

“Oh,” you say, rather intelligently. You consider the thought that he could be lying, but he looks at you with such earnestness, remorse practically pooling in his eyes, you can’t even entertain the thought for more than a moment.

“Yeah, oh. I’m sorry you thought I was talking about you…”

“No, I’m sorry,” you quietly sit back down, anger gone as quick as it arose, and flop back on the floor with a sigh. Having your entire view of Gunwook Park debunked in a mere minute was not on tonight’s bingo card.

“I should’ve—Hanbin kept telling me it was probably a misunderstanding and to confront you, but I just stewed in my misguided hatred. God, Hanbin’s going to be insufferable once I tell him he was right all along.”

Gunwook huffs a laugh, “I’m glad we sorted this out, finally. Um, I guess we should wrap up for tonight since it’s getting late. Can I walk you home?”

“Don’t you live on campus? You don’t have to walk me home if you just have to walk back here…”

“It’s fine!” Gunwook smiles, oddly enthusiastic. Weird, personally, you dread having to walk home after practice. “I want to, and I guess now we can get to know each other? Now that you don’t hate me.”

“Yeah… okay, I’ll grab my stuff.” You sit back up again, as much as you’d like to become one with the floor.

“Okay, cool.”

“Cool.” you can’t help but smile, seeing the wide grin on Gunwook’s face. You’re going to choose to believe the warmth in your cheeks is because you’re still cooling off from rehearsing.

The idea of rehearsing is a lot more palatable now that you don’t despise your duet partner. The actual rehearsals aren’t too bad either… they’re actually kind of enjoyable.

Hanbin was, in fact, very insufferable when you spilled everything that’d happened that day to him. He’d been waiting up for you, sitting on the armchair in your living room, and nearly gave you a heart attack when he flicked on the lamp beside him; like he was your mother and he’d caught you sneaking back in the house.

“Hey, how was class?” Gunwook has taken to waiting for you outside your classes on rehearsal days, you even say hi to each other when you see the other on campus, and maybe talk if you’re not busy.

“Don’t get me started…” you groan, “I have no idea what my professor was on about today, but I thought his jaw was going to unhinge before he finally stopped talking.”

Gunwook chuckles, and grabs your bag from you, cradling it to his chest. “I thought I told you I could carry my bag myself?”

“And I told you that you could try to take it back.” 

You did try, and you decided you do not like freakishly strong guys. “Whatever… what about you? How was your class?”

“Didn’t go today…” Gunwook trails off, glancing down at your linked arms. A habit after losing Hanbin in crowds one too many times. It feels nice with Gunwook, though. “Um, my roommate—” he clears his throat before he continues looking forward, revealing his red ears. Oh, that’s cute.

“He kept me up late ‘cause he needed help with his film project that he’s been procrastinating. I ended up waking up at like one-thirty…”

“Really? So, you just came straight here after waking up?” You tsk, choosing to look away from his pouted lips for your sake. “Did you even eat? Let’s stop by this café a few blocks away before we rehearse. It opened last month, Hanbin and I were supposed to check it out, but I think he forgot.”

You’re not blind, of course, Gunwook is, well, objectively attractive (subjectively as well, perchance). With much coaxing, you might’ve been able to admit it a week ago when you hated him. But, his attractiveness is far too illuminated when you’re a mere inches from his face; faced with his distractingly pretty brown eyes, and rosy cheeks. Oh God, he’s cute. He’s so fucking cute, and you are so fucking screwed.

Before you can say something so embarrassing you’d have to migrate to another country and assume another identity, you take the initiative to part from Gunwook, carefully backing away, and clearing your throat, “Should we take a break?”

Except that doesn’t even help, because when you sink to the floor to watch YouTube, Gunwook is beside you, smushed at your side to watch whatever you’re watching. You can’t even remember what video you tapped on, but apparently, you’re seven minutes into a video when Gunwook reaches over to pause it.

“Hey, um, one of my friends—his name’s Junhyeon, his frat, Zeta Rho Xi is having a party this weekend. He kinda roped me into going, and I was just wondering if you were free…? I would, um, it’d be cool if you could stop by.”

Parties haven’t been your thing for a long time; you tried to party freshman year, since people seemed to go on about the college parties. You just couldn’t get super into it, plus only things like the Play-Doh incident came from parties… and that’s why you’re not sure why you say, “Yeah, no, I should be free. I’ll check it out.”

You aren't even free, you have an essay you’ve written approximately two sentences for that happens to be due Monday. But the smile on Gunwook’s face makes agreeing feel like the right choice.

Immediately upon stepping inside, you remember why you hate parties. One, you lose Hanbin instantly. Two, trying to push through a bunch of sweaty, drunk people (who are surprisingly sturdy) is a pain in the ass. And three, it’s loud, you already feel like you need a drink. Or maybe three.

You manage to make it to a mostly empty kitchen, and at that point, you’ve lost any motivation to go search for Hanbin or even Gunwook. For the most part, you’ve given up caring about being ‘lame’, so, you’re perfectly content sitting in the kitchen on your phone at a party while sipping on possibly the worst quality beer you’ve tasted in your twenty years of life.

It’s maybe thirty minutes until you finally look up from your phone at the call of your name over the ear-damaging volume of music.

Hanbin stumbles into the kitchen, using Gunwook as support. You can make out your friend’s flushed cheeks, even in the dim lighting, you have no idea how he’s gotten drunk so fast. “There you are! I found Gunwookie, it looked like he was waitin’ around for you, ‘cause he was just in a corner lookin’ around… didn’t you guys exchange numbers?”

“I already told you I forgot to ask…” Gunwook mumbles.

“Oh,” Hanbin lets go of Gunwook to slide up beside you, “Hey, did you know that, um—” Gunwook rushes over to slap a hand over Hanbin’s mouth, are they both drunk? It’s more difficult to tell with Gunwook, his cheeks always look pink…

Hanbin removes Gunwook’s hand with a glare, “Don’t interrupt me,” he chides, as sternly as he can while drunk. “Anyway, ‘m so glad you two figured things out. I hope Gunwook tells you about his massive heart boner for you.”

Hanbin makes it probably ten times worse by continuing, “He’s—he’s had such a big crush on you since like, um, since like the millisecond he joined the team. But this whole time you thought he was mean to you, isn’t that silly?”

What isn’t silly is the look on Gunwook’s face, he looks positively mortified.

“...Okay, Bin, I think you’re ready to go home already,” you smile tersely, side-stepping the topic for now, maybe forever actually. “Gunwook, can you help me with him?” You ignore Hanbin’s slurred protests. It must take a moment for Gunwook to recoup before he’s at Hanbin’s other side, helping you pull the drunkard up.

You avoid looking in Gunwook’s direction, despite the fact you can feel him burning holes into the side of your head. Of course, there’s no avoiding the conversation—inevitably, you’re going to have to talk to Gunwook about what Hanbin said, but maybe you can get out of it tonight…?

It’s not that you’re particularly afraid… okay, well, you are, except it’s just unnecessary anxiety. Now you feel better about admitting to yourself that you’re interested in Gunwook. But what if Hanbin’s drunk rambling was just drunk rambling, and it was all nonsense? Well, Gunwook probably wouldn’t seem so nervous if that were the case, but maybe he’s nervous because he just doesn’t want you to be under the impression that he—

“Oh, hey, I’ve been looking everywhere for Hanbin…”

“Oh, Hao, hey.” you mentally thank Hao for unknowingly rescuing you from spiraling into your annoyingly irrational train of thought.

“Do you want me to take him off your hands? We were planning to ditch before he disappeared.”

Okay, time to put on your big person pants and be an adult. “Yeah, thanks.” Handing Hanbin off is pretty easy, the man completely unbothered that he’s thrown two of his protégés for a loop (he’ll probably feel a lot worse about it tomorrow, especially when he’s hungover). What’s less easy, is being left with Gunwook.

“Well, since Hanbin aired everything out…”

“Right, yeah. We should talk, maybe outside?”

Gunwook nods, leading the way to the back door, you follow closely behind him. As not to lose him in the clusters of people, and maybe just because you want to, you grab onto his arm.

Outside, your eardrums thank you for finally getting out of there, though your nervous heart is another story, rattling against your ribcage incessantly. Warily, you avoid looking at Gunwook, distancing yourself a good few feet away from him, “So…”

“I like you,” Gunwook blurts as if he won’t get another chance to say so, “like a lot. I initially joined the team ‘cause of you actually, I hadn’t even danced since middle school. But you were so—watching you on stage at orientation felt so… enchanting.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks at Gunwook’s flattery, and he only continues, “I thought you were perfect, so obviously I immediately signed up for the dance team, even though I wasn’t even sure if I was any good at it anymore, just so I could have an excuse to see you. Only for me to never gain the courage to even talk to you…” Staring at the wooden planks of the porch beneath your feet, you see Gunwook’s beaten-up Converse come into view, urging you to look up again.

“Gunwook, I—”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel anything like that for me, I just can’t let the what-ifs get in the way of me trying anymore.” Oh, how could you not feel something for him? Surely anyone could fall for him just by staring into his pretty brown eyes.

The weird feeling in your gut, which must be those butterflies people talk about, amplifies, you think you’d have to be a fool if you didn’t feel something for Gunwook Park. “I don’t… not feel something,” you hastily avert your gaze, “I guess I’m not entirely sure what it is, but I am interested in you. I, um, would be open to exploring that.”

“I understand—wait, you… really?”

You look up in time to see the overjoyed grin split Gunwook’s lips. It’s infectious, you can’t help but mirror his smile, laugh tumbling past your lips, “Yes, you dork. You better sweep me off my feet.”  You playfully shove at his shoulder.

“I will,” Gunwook grabs your wrist before you drop your arm, thumbing at the inside of it, “are you free tomorrow?”

“I…” You aren’t free, remember that pesky essay of yours? “Yeah, I am.” Oh, well, you suppose it can wait; likely until tomorrow night, when you finally open your laptop at eleven-thirty at night, when it happens to be due at midnight. You happen to work great under pressure!

“Perfect, can I pick you up at your place at two?”

“Sure, are you gonna remember to ask for my number this time, though?” You tease, making a ‘give me’ motion with your free hand.

Gunwook’s cheeks somehow get pinker, as he finally lets go of your wrist and retrieves his phone from his pocket, handing it over with the new contact screen open. Quickly, you type in your number and then your name, cheekily adding a heart beside it.

“Can I walk you home? Or, uh, if you wanted to go back to the party, that’s fine too…”

“Nah,” you’d rather do just about anything else than go back into that mess, you’ve had enough parties for the rest of your college life, “I’m pretty tired, and I have a super important date with a great guy tomorrow.”

With a coy smile to match Gunwook’s shy one, you cozy up to his side and link arms with him, “Let’s go?”

You’d still consider dancing to be a great way to unwind—still one of your favorites, it's just been demoted to second place.

Nothing ebbs away your stress like Gunwook popping into your room with your favorite food after you’ve been staring at your laptop screen for hours as if you were hoping your assignments would finish themselves. Or his hugs—always so warm, it’s like hugging an oversized stuffed bear. Or just… him.

Unrivaled after several years, dancing has finally met its match: Gunwook Park.

[staybabblingbaby]

Soulmate Garden AU Ch.2 (Anemone) a3d2

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 4,218

Notes: I don't feel like the summary completely matches this story anymore. I'm also not really satisfied with this chapter, but I'm too tired to really get into a whole bunch of drafts and edits, I've just really been feeling poorly lately. The archive is for writing progress anyways, it's fine. I'll probably rewrite this whole chapter if I ever get to where I'd be comfortable posting finished versions to Ao3. I'm also just not fond of my writing style somehow. It feels too formal, doesn't flow enough. Problem is that I really talk like that lmao. Idk, I'll figure it out.

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: She/Her Reader

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Prev Part | Next Part

Bangchan clambered into the van behind Felix, Minho and Jisung loading into the row in front of them. It always felt a bit weird to not spend some time swapping seatmates around based on who was clinging to who at the moment, but on days like today it was easier to just board the vehicles as quick as possible.

He's ended up with a relatively quite combination of their cluster today, and Chan was grateful for it as he settled into his seat with a pained grimace.

He wasn’t sure when it had started, but a persistent on-and-off pain had been roaming around his back for the last twenty minutes as they’d said goodbye to Stays and prepared to leave the venue. He’d be more worried about it, except the sharp, needle-like, pains would settle into a gentler ache before kicking back up again.

As it was, Chan was pretty sure he’d pinched a nerve or strained something and would simply rest when he got back to the hotel. Maybe call up the PT. For now, as three of his soulmates settled in around him, Chan was content to leave it be.

Well, almost. Another twinge of pain makes him wince as he twists to buckle in, and Chan decides that maybe it’d be a good idea to know what he was working with. For comfort’s sake, if nothing else.

“Felix,” He prods the blond next to him, “Can you look at my back for me? I think I pinched something.” He motions toward his lower back, where the majority of the pain had been accumulating.

Felix immediately nods his acceptance, their group’s resident massage expert always willing to lend a hand. Especially if it let him lay hands on his very well built soulmates.

Chan scooches forward and rotates around, balancing with his hand on the headrest of the seat in front of him. He helps Felix shimmy his shirt upwards, struggling with it where it gets caught in the seat-belt.

Chan ends up stuck struggling on his own as Felix chooses that moment to direct his eyes and hands to the afflicted area.

“There’s your first issue,” Felix tuts, “You’ve left your concealment tape on. You’ll give yourself a rash one of these days, hyung.”

Chan gives a sheepish smile from where he’s managed to trap himself in a cloth prison. His head is free, and the shirt his appropriately bunched up over his shoulders and around his neck. Unfortunately, he hadn’t managed to free his hands, so he’s got a bit of a t-Rex thing going on right now. It’s fine.

“I forget it’s there,” he confesses with a whine, “I can’t see my own back, y’know?”

Felix rolls his eyes at their oh-so-glorious leader, carefully peeling the thin material away from Chan’s skin as he scolds, “You still need to take it off. We sweat way too much to not at least change it after a performance.”

He’s bunching up the extra-strength tape to maybe toss at Jisung in the front seat (maybe Minho, if he’s feeling very brave), when he spots something off.

More than half a decade into having found each other, the members of Stray Kids were intimately familiar with each other’s soulmarks. Every drop of color, every line, every curve.

So when Felix looks at the freshly uncovered canvas on Chan’s back, familiar trees, bushes, and rocks painting a forested landscape that describes their impact on their eldest, something new immediately catches his eye.

There, on the fallen log that bridged two banks of a crystal-clear creek, was a moss blanket and a cluster little shelf mushrooms. They added life to the previously defunct object, a little bit of color that couldn’t have been said to be missing until it wasn’t.

The closer Felix looked, the more he saw. A mushroom here, a mossy patch there. Little signs of life and decay that he could have sworn weren’t there the last time he looked.

He looks to Jisung, who’s blissfully unaware.

As the first of their cluster to paint Chan’s skin with color, he was the most familiar with their leader’s mark. Jisung had been too young for his own mark to have appeared when he’d met Chan, but that didn’t stop him from influencing their eldest’s. They all knew he’d spent a lot of time studying Chan’s mark (and Changbin’s when it had appeared, already partially colored in) while waiting for his own.

If there was anyone who’d be more than certain of a change in their soulmarks, it’d be Jisung.

Felix swiftly removes his hands from Chan’s back, earning him a little noise of confusion from the prone man, and reaches over to poke Jisung harshly in the side.

Jisung immediately flinches away from the offending fingers with a loud yelp, attracting the attention of Minho, who’d been peacefully scrolling on his phone. Jisung swiftly fixes Felix with an offended glare, ready to retaliate, but is cut off before he can even try.

“Look at Chan’s mark for me.” Felix demands.

“My mark?” Chan echoes, baffled and alarmed. “What’s wrong with my mark?”

“Nothing, hyung,” Felix assures, “I just need to check I’m not seeing things.”

A series of furtive, silent, and, on Felix’s part, urgent, gestures are exchanged before Jisung finally relents and leans around the back of his seat, grabbing Minho’s for balance as the van departs.

Jisung lazily traces his eyes over Chan’s soulmark. All of Stray Kids had huge marks, but Jisung privately thought that Chan had them all beat. His mark spanned his entire back, not an inch untouched by the image. From shoulder to hip was an oil painting of a mark, filled in from what used to be a desolate landscape to what was now a thriving forest.

Jisung used to think it was so overwhelming to be part of such a mark. To be loved so much, and so deeply. It was evident in every brushstroke of the image on Chan’s skin, and in every action of the man himself.

These days, he found great comfort in it.

He’d gotten so lost in thought as he studied his soulmate’s mark that Jisung had almost missed what had caught Felix’s attention in the first place. But sure enough, his eyes catch on the same log that Felix’s had.

“Oh.” He whispers to himself. “Oh.” He says again, as Minho shoves his head under Jisung’s arm to look himself.

“No, yeah, that’s different.” He confirms, Minho nodding against him, having already spotted it for himself. The two of them find their eyes glued to tiny mushrooms, only sparing a moment to glance at each other before returning their gaze to Chan’s skin, each with their own racing thoughts.

“I thought so.” Felix nods to himself.

“What?” Chan questions, becoming more alarmed by the second, “What’s going on? What’s happened? What’s wrong with my mark?”

Felix lays his palms flat on Chan’s back and begins to rub gentle, soothing, circles. Any changes to a soulmark were stressful at the best of times, and they all knew how much Chan treasured his.

“There’s nothing wrong,” Felix soothes, letting the warmth of Chan’s mark resonating with his touch calm them both as he searches for gentle words.

“It’s just,” He begins hesitantly, “Well, the good news is that you haven’t pinched or strained anything.”

“Good news?” Chan echoes, “Is there bad news?” He lets a nervous giggle fall from his lips even as he relaxes into Felix’s hands.

“Not necessarily?” Felix says uncertainly, “It’s just. Well. Your mark has changed.” He pauses a second and pulls out his phone, quickly snapping a picture and then passing it around so Chan can see. “Something’s been added.”

Felix lets the implication of his words sit untouched in the air as the three of them wait for Chan to process what this means.

Ironically, Chan was the least familiar with his own mark out of all of them. His and Minho’s both resided on their backs so it stood to reason that the two of them didn’t see their marks very often. So it was no surprise that it took Chan several, very long, moments to spot the tiny changes.

When he does, Chan pulls in a deep, stuttering breath. The pain is already fading out to an ache now that it’s been acknowledged and Chan isn’t sure how he feels about the extra confirmation.

He carefully pulls his shirt back down, breaking his soulmate’s line of sight like they hadn’t already burned the image onto their retinas. He doesn’t remove his eyes from Felix’s phone.

“I...” He trails off, “I have another soulmate?” His voice is filled with wonder as he marvels at the picture of his mark. He looks up at the rest of his soulmates currently in the van with awe. “We have another soulmate?”

“Yeah,” Minho whispers, voice choked with emotion, “Yeah it looks like it.”

Felix doesn’t wait for Chan to fully turn around before he’s pulling their leader into a bone-crushing hug, giddy, disbelieving, laughter spilling out of him even as tears prick at his eyes.

“Oh my god!” Felix celebrates quietly as Chan wiggles to return his hug just as tightly. “Oh my god.” The other man agrees.

Even as his soulmates celebrate around him, each feeling their own storm of emotions, Chan can’t quite grasp the reality of the situation.

Stray Kids was a uniquely large soul cluster. From the beginning, when it had become evident that Hannie wasn’t his only soulmate, it had caused issues. Then came Bin, and the rest had followed like dominos. Each time their circle expanded he’d thought “this has to be it, right?” and each time there was a little voice in the back of his mind saying, “No, not yet.”

The issue was that that feeling, that little voice saying ”not yet”, the knowledge that they weren’t complete, had never gone away.

By the time they had all met, none of them could spot anything obviously missing from their marks. All of them were completely colored, lines drawn, images complete. And yet, every one of them felt that hollowness of an incomplete bond.

They’d talked about it a lot. Individually, as a group, in pairs and in quartets and seemingly endless combinations. It was hard, as the years went by, to ignore that nagging feeling.

Chan would always remember Jeongin crawling into his bed in the middle of the night, crying and apologizing for not being enough. Could never forget taking Jisung to a rage room so they could both break down their feelings or drinking with Changbin and wondering if it was wrong for them to be so greedy as to want more when they already had so much.

After so many years, they’d begun to wonder if they were just broken. If they didn’t have another soulmate out there after all, and it was all in their heads.

It had been hard. It was hard.

And now that little blank space in his soul was painted with someone else’s colors and Chan felt whole in a way he wasn’t sure he’d ever experience.

It kind of made him want to cry.

He wanted to cry even more when Felix innocently asks, “So what were they like?” An unmatched eagerness in his eyes as Chan pulled away.

That one guileless question triggers a realization in Chan that has his groaning in despair and slumping forward back onto Felix’s shoulder.

“I don’t know.” Chan mumbles into the shoulder of the slighter man.

“What was that?” Jisung questions from where he and Minho were still turned toward him, obviously as curious as Felix.

“I said I don’t know!” Chan wails, wilting further into Felix’s frame.

“How do you not know?” Minho questions incredulously. Felix gasps as he connects dots he’d been too excited to before.

“I didn’t even know my mark had changed before now,” Chan explains miserably, “I don’t even know exactly when the pain started.”

Jisung sucks in a hiss of air, sympathy splashed across his face. “Oh geeze,” he breathes out, “How many people have we met today alone?”

“Ok, well,” Felix interjects, “Not ideal, but we’ll figure it out!”

Minho turns his incredulous stare onto the optimistic man.

"How are we going to figure it out?" He demands, "Because there were tens of thousands of people in that stadium and I know every single one of us shook dozens of hands tonight."

Felix wilts a little bit even as Jisung comes to his defense, "We kind of have to figure it out, hyung," he points out, "And soon. We're back to Seoul soon."

"Okay but how?" Minho challenges, "And don't give me any 'with the power of love and fate' crap."

"We might have to rely on fate." Chan shrugs, dejected. "It's not like I have a description or anything to give out."

"It'll be okay Channie hyung," Felix pats Chan's back lightly from where they're still entangled together, "It'll have to be."

The van descends into silence as the four of them contemplate their new situation. After a few minutes Chan leverages himself up and out of Felix's embrace to frown aimlessly at his knees.

"Well," Felix breaks the silence, "We don’t have any more shows after this, and we have some days of break time, right?”

“Right,” Chan confirms, “We have tomorrow off and then we’re returning to Seoul to start working on the next album.”

“But officially,” Felix hedges, “We have, like, an entire week off, don’t we?”

“Not quite, but sure,” Chan hesitantly agrees.

“Well, we know they were in town for the concert at least,” Felix continues, “So as long as they didn’t leave the city immediately after, I mean, there's seven more first contacts to go, right?”

“Are you saying we should spend our break wandering around trying for first contacts?” Jisung asks, “Because I’m all for searching for them, but I don’t know that aimless wandering is gonna help.”

Chan holds up his hands to halt that conversation before it could devolve into a bigger debate.

“Let’s shelve that for now, and meet up with the others at the hotel,” He suggests, “We should discuss this as a group anyways.”

He receives a variety of agreements and the four of them settle in for the short remaining drive back to their hotel. He absently hands Felix’s phone back to him and retrieves his own from his pocket to ask the others to meet them in his room.

Chan looks out the window, post-concert fatigue all but a memory. As the buildings pass by, he can’t help but hope that their mystery soulmate was looking for them too.

You reaffirm your decision to never ever meet your soulmates as Taylor loads you into the car, arm wrapped protectively around your shoulder the whole way.

It was one thing when your stupidly large soul cluster was just an idea. Knowledge you held, but unactionable in any way.

It was another when you had evidence, in the form of little white flowers burning with warmth on your skin, that they were real, physical, people.

Even worse when you knew that they were a group of very famous musicians.

You hadn’t actually been sick when you’d texted Taylor, who’d thankfully managed to get all of the autographs he’d wanted before he’d checked his phone to try to find you, but you were getting there. Anxiety had nausea creeping up your throat like molasses.

You’re beyond grateful when your roommate doesn’t question your sudden illness, the both of you well aware that you were hale and hearty when you’d left the house.

Taylor just buckles you in like you’re something precious and fragile and takes the wheel.

The two of you drive in silence the entire way home. It’s not awkward, but you can’t deny the weight of something heavy in the air. The buzz of the concert still lingered between the two of you, and it only made the silence stifling and itchy.

When you pull into your apartment complex neither of you speak for a long moment.

“Sorry for ruining the day.” You murmur to the air in front of you. Taylor just reaches over to pat your thigh and unclip your seatbelt.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” He assures, “Don’t sweat it.” He hesitates a moment before continuing.

“I’m not gonna push,” Taylor begins gently, “But you know you can talk to me, right? Whatever happened, I’m not gonna judge. I just wanna be here for you.”

“What makes you think something happened?” You mutter mulishly. Taylor just gives you a look that has you sinking into your seat.

“It’s nothing. I’m just being dramatic.” You admit. He bumps your shoulder with his and climbs out of the car.

“It’s not nothing if it makes you feel something.” He tells you as he goes. The two of you walk up to the apartment in silence, contemplative this time.

You think about telling him as the two of you separate to wash the concert off of yourselves. You think about it as you take turns using the bathroom and as you make dinner side by side. You think about it as you settle in front of the couch at his feet as his hands automatically pull your head to his knees, his fingers digging into your hair just how you like.

You want to tell him, you decide. You do. It's just that. Well...

Your sister was right, in a way. You’d known Taylor for over a year now, but the two of you didn’t really know much about each other. You really were just roommates.

You didn’t know what his favorite color was. You didn’t know the names of his parents, or if he had any siblings. You barely knew what he did for a living. He’d only ended up your roommate by virtue of you responding to his “roommate wanted” ad with full willingness to be murdered on the spot.

At the same time, the two of you knew everything about each other. You knew how he took his coffee in the morning, that he preferred his eggs dry and over-seasoned. You knew the bands he liked and the games he played. You knew his hobbies better than you knew your own sometimes, and more about his friend’s drama that you ever wanted to.

You know the important things, you think.

You know that every word you tell him in confidence will be clutched tightly all the way to the grave.

“I met my soulmate today.” You confess, your cheek pressed to his knee, half-asleep.

The words somehow feel like they were snatched from the darkest depths of your soul as they spill from your lips. You make no move to take them back.

Taylor’s hand, to his credit, only pauses for a moment. Then he treats your hushed admission like any other comment made while you nod off to dramas the both of you know you only watch for him, resuming the soothing movement of his hand and humming lightly to acknowledge you.

You think it’s that casual treatment that lets you find the courage to continue.

“Well, one of them anyway.” You mumble. Taylor hums his interest, but doesn't take his eyes off of the screen and doesn’t stop petting your hair.

“I don’t want to meet them. There’s so many of them and only one of me, y'know? I don’t even know how to love myself, how am I supposed to love eight other people?” Taylor says nothing still, his eyes glued to an episode of a drama you know the two of you have already finished three times over.

“I’m scared I’ll fuck it up. I’m scared they’ll fuck me up.” Your voice cracks as you breathe life into one of your deepest fears. You realize as you say it that you’ve never voiced these thoughts aloud before, even to yourself.

Tears prick at the back of your eyes when you admit, “I’m not ready for them. I don’t think I can be.”

Taylor finally gives in to the seriousness of the conversation and hauls you bodily up onto the couch. You go willingly, but with rag-doll limpness. He rearranges you to his liking and you find yourself in Gossip Position, sitting criss-cross facing him.

“First of all,” He starts in, his usual levity giving way to a seriousness you rarely see from him, “Don’t be mean to my best friend. I’ll hit you.” You ignore his threat in favor of the warm feeling in chest at hearing him call you his best friend.

Take THAT Ma! No friends your glorious behind.

“Secondly, you are literally the most loving person I have ever met in my life. You would fit the entire world in there if you could,” He pokes your chest, right above your heart, for emphasis, “So I’m not that surprised you have more than one soulmate.”

“I have eight though,” You argue, “Isn’t that weird?”

Taylor just shrugs. “I mean, yeah. But weird is basically your brand, so...” He trails off with a teasing smirk.

You shove him a bit in retaliation, but he just grabs your wrists to still you and continues speaking before you can argue.

“I don’t think eight soulmates is enough for you, honestly,” He muses, “I mean it when I say you’re the most loving person I know. I think you’d even try to take care of Danny if he needed you to.” The mention of Taylor’s very creepy second cousin sends a shiver down both of your spines.

The worst part is that you can’t even argue with him.

“But you know, even with eight soulmates, you don’t have to be with them.” Taylor suddenly switches tracks to reassure you, “They’re your soulmates sure, but you’re your own person. They’re for you, it’s not like they are you. You can live without, if you really want to.”

The two of you let that statement settle for a moment. He’s right, you know all too well. Still, the thought leaves a wad of uncomfortable and complicated feelings lodged in your throat.

After a moment’s pause, you break the silence.

“I have too many years of trauma and not enough therapy money to unpack everything I’m feeling right now.”

Taylor cracks first, and giggles come pouring out of the two of you. The joke wasn’t even funny, but you guessed the two of you had been serious for far too long.

Some minutes later, when the giggles finally die down and you return to watching Taylor’s show, you find yourself with your head on his shoulder.

“Whatever you decide, you know I’m here for you, right?” Taylor quietly picks up where the conversation had left off.

“Sure,” you agree, “Like I was there for you when you cried over a boy I told you wasn’t shit.” You completely deserve the elbow to the side you receive for that comment.

“Shut up, I’m being cheesy!” Taylor scolds with a laugh.

“I’m lactose intolerant!” You complain, but obligingly fall silent.

“Seriously,” Taylor insists, “I’ll be here every step of the way. Whatever you need.”

You wrap your arms around the one of his that you’re leaning on and give a gentle squeeze to show your appreciation. “Thanks Tay.” you murmur.

“Of course. You got me front row tickets to a SKZ concert, we’re ride or die whether you like it for not!” You poke his side to scold him for not being serious after just insisting that you be, but end up having to fight for your life when he immediately retaliates by trying to tickle you.

It takes the two of you quite a while to calm down again, Taylor smug in his victory. He holds your ankles in his lap like trophies of war as you stare at the ceiling. The quiet creeps back in quickly, so you speak.

“I’m just not sure what I want, I think.” You tell him, “I don’t want to meet them. But at the same time, I really do, y’know?”

Taylor nods, “Just let the universe do its thing.” he suggests, “If you’re meant to meet them now, you’ll meet them regardless of what you want. But after you meet them, it’s all up to you.”

You nod along, humming your acceptance of his advice. He’s right, again. You can’t really fight fate, even if you desperately want to. But even within that large restraint, you’re a human being with free will. The world is your oyster and all that.

You let your thoughts fade out and just listen to Taylor yap about the drama on the TV as he finally tunes back into it.

It’s nearly dawn when the two of you decide to turn in, post-concert jitters having deserted you and heavy conversations having taken their toll.

“Did you manage to get their name before you bolted?” Taylor asks out of nowhere as you’re walking to your respective rooms. “Your soulmate’s” He clarifies at your confused look.

“Oh, I didn’t need to.” You answer absentmindedly, already opening your door and dreaming of your cozy sheets. “It was Bangchan.”

You close your door on his gawping face, blissfully unaware of the crisis you’d just sent him into.

Perma Tag List: @Mbioooo0000

[judysxnd]

Hi, could we get an imagine where Pedro gets self conscious of the age gap with y/n and had been weird distant with you. Maybe he read an ugly article that said that he was too old for her and didn't really say positive things.

Once you fount out you reassured him and made him feel really love, Idk something fluffy.

Thanks love your writing

I know it’s been little more than a week since I published anything! I’m trying my best! It’s a busy period. And thank you! I hope you like it 😋

——————————————————————————————

You knew that making your relationship go public would be risky. It always is. Living in this world where you are being watched almost 24/7 doesn’t help hiding or keeping anything private. That’s actually what happened with Pedro. You were both seen on the beach one weekend, holding hands and kissing. At first you were both upset, it was a private beach, you were alone, at least you thought you were, but somehow, people knew.

Since this day, it has been tough. Paparazzi were already following both of you before, but now, they are way more, and it’s getting difficult to leave the house. As they are more, they are also very aggressive verbally as they are trying to get any information, especially on the age cap. Yep, this is their main goal, they want to know everything. You are in your late twenties, Pedro in his late forties.

You both knew what would happen, it can be pretty shocking, a big age gap like that. You tried not to think about it, just focusing on your careers and yourselves. But it wasn’t easy denying this part.

Unfortunately, it was harder for Pedro than for you. He has been working very hard to get where he is now, and he doesn’t want anything to jeopardize that. He doesn’t think it will ruin his career or yours, this is the last thing he thought, but it can have consequences psychologically. The harassment, the articles, it’s all they can talk about. Maybe it’s because it’s new, in a few months they will forget about it, but until now, you had to go through it all.

Pedro was on his computer, scrolling through the news when he saw an article about both of you. “Is star Pedro Pascal having a midlife crisis by dating celebrity Y/n L/n?”. He felt a knot in his stomach. He couldn’t stop reading the title. He knew he shouldn’t be reading this, but he couldn’t help. He had to know what they were saying. So he read the article. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard or seen before, but it was being repeated so much that he was starting to believe it. Was he really too old for Y/n? Was he just distracting himself? Did he deserve you? He suddenly got overwhelmed with thousands of questions, but was interrupted when you got home.

“Hi baby” you joyfully said as you entered the kitchen where Pedro was. He quickly closed his computer, putting a small smile on his face.

“Hey” he simply said. You started to walk towards him, but he got up, holding his computer to put it on the table in the living room. You were confused. You waited a few seconds for him to come back, but when he didn’t, you went in the living room.

“Are you okay?” He was sitting on the couch, going through his jacket to find his cigarettes.

“Y-yeah, I’m just a little tired. I’m smoking one and I think I’ll go lay down”

“Do you need anything? I can make you some tea, if you need medication I have some” you said, getting closer to him, touching his arm.

“I’m good thank you” he said, barely looking at you as he stepped outside, lighting his cigarette. He sat down on the couch, arms crossed, wondering what was going on with him.

You decided to let go for the day, maybe he was just really tired. Unfortunately, next morning, you woke up to an empty bed, even an empty house. He simply texted you that he had to go to set really early this morning, and that he will probably be home late too. There was definitely something going on. Even during the night, he didn’t stay close to you as he usually does.

That’s when you remembered. His computer. He closed it very quickly and tried to put it away from you as soon as you got home. You need to find it. You went to the living room where you last saw it, nothing, there was only yours. You checked all the drawers in the bedroom, nothing. He wouldn’t have taken it with him, he never takes his computer on set with him. You checked all the places in the house, even in the bathroom.

“Come on!” You yelled, getting very upset. You had some emails to check on your own computer, so you grabbed yours that was in the living room. When you opened it, there was a page open. It was an article about you. “What the hell?”

You didn’t remember looking at anything on internet, but it was possible you did. When you opened your mail, you realized that it wasn’t your computer, it was Pedro’s. Ironically, you both have the same computer, and he must have grabbed yours instead of his. You went back to the article, and read it. You felt awful. How could people say that about him? There is so much more about him, and about your relationship. They don’t know anything. More upset than before, you closed the computer, grabbed your keys and left the house.

A few hours later, you arrived on the set where Pedro was filming these days. After being guided by an assistant, you arrived to the latest room where they were filming. You saw Pedro on his phone, sitting in his chair, focused. He was alone, except from a few people re arranging the set.

“Pedro” you called him, as you were behind him. He got a little bit scared, and quickly turned around.

“Y/n? What are you doing here so late?”

“Well, you texted that you were finishing late, so I thought you might not have time to eat, so.. I grabbed your favorite food” you said, showing the big brown bag you were holding in your right hand. You could tell that he was nervous. “Also, I wanted to talk to you” he simply looked at you and nodded.

“Let’s go to my trailer” you smiled and followed him.

After setting the food the table, Pedro started to eat, but you didn’t.

“You know I love you right?” You simply said out of the blue. His mouth full, Pedro looked at you, nodding. “I saw the article on your computer” you said grabbing some fries. Now he was confused, and frowned. “You took my computer instead of yours” you smiled. “I know we basically agreed not to be official, but it happened without our consent, but now it’s done, and.. and we knew what would happen.. we don’t have the choice to live with it, but we have the choice to ignore it” you stared at him “it’s not true what they say, and we both know it”

“I know” he said “but it’s just.. they say it so much, so many people are saying it, there has to be some truth in it if so many people think the same thing” you hold his hand

“No! They just don’t understand. That’s their job to say shit like that. It doesn’t mean it’s true. Don’t doubt yourself, us, we are real, this is true” you said putting your right hand on his cheek, still holding his left hand.

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be. It’s completely normal. Remember how I felt when the article about me being pregnant got published a year ago? Just because I gained a little?” You both laughed “it’s not true. They only see two people with different ages loving each other and it’s scaring the shit out of them”

“I love you so much” you both smiled. Pedro started to lean in to kiss you. “I don’t know what I would do without you” he whispered right before kissing you passionately.

“And I love you more” you said after you parted “but now let’s eat because I’m starving and it’s getting cold” you both laughed and went back to your food.

You finished eating, and stayed with Pedro as he finished filming what he had to for the day, and got home with him. You both slept better, cuddled up, like you usually do.

[luimagines]

Hi Pinky! So like, I had a thought. (Dangerous, I know.)

What if the Chain gets to a town and the townsfolk are just BEGGING this group of obviously well trained warriors to help them in their plight. They’re willing to pay upfront and they tell tales of a wicked beast that dwells in a cave nearby that torments them and has for several years! They beg the Chain to slay the beast and free them from its evil spirit.

Naturally, the Chain investigate.

After a journey, they arrive at the cave… which at first glance is full of treasure! Sweet! But as they continue to investigate, there’s no sign of this beast. But it seems an area of the cave has been made to resemble a home. A bunch of cloth has been piled up in the shape of a bed, a tree stump (looks like it was legit pulled out of the ground) was placed like a table nearby, and wooden boards against the wall were made to resemble cabinets. They were empty. More of the cave had the crude decor, it was like an imitation of sorts.

Anyway, as they’re investigating, they hear something approaching! So they hide and wait for whatever it is to show itself. Turns out, this ‘beast’ is nothing more than a girl (or boy. Or gn. Idk. I’m a girl so I project) maybe in her late teens or early twenties. However, it was clear she wasn’t quite… Hylian. Her skin was a pale gray. She had horns protruding from both sides of her head, and instead of hands and feet, she had claws/talons. And when she opened her mouth, she had rows of razor sharp teeth.

“I’m home~” She said in a singsong voice as she pulled a brand new gem from her bag and placed it with her other treasures. She then proceeds to throw a bloodied fish onto the table and dance around her home without a care in the world.

The details get fuzzy at this point because I’m unsure exactly how the Chain respond. But the gist is either they show themselves or the girl finds them. She then proceeds to get very scared and cowers. This eventually turns into the Chain questioning her and they find out the townsfolk weren’t truthful. Turns out, she has only ever set foot into the town once… and was chased out with torches and pitchforks. And they often come by when she’s away and trashes her home and takes her belongings.

She tried to mimic the Hylian homes she’s seen, so that’s why the decor of the cave was the way that it was. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was all for, but she wanted to be like them. She knew the people in the town slept in beds and put food on a table, so she adopted the habits.

She likes shiny things! So that’s why she has so much treasure. She goes out on treasure hunting trips and finds anything shiny. She has never stolen her shiny treasures. She actually finds ruins and similar places to dig and find what she wants.

This is also where details get fuzzy. Idk if the idea will ever continue in my mind because I’m honestly unsure of what happens. I kinda think some of the Chain (Time) is like “not our circus not our monkeys” because she’s not actually doing anyone any harm. But the other half of the Chain is like “We can’t just leave her and met the townsfolk continue to torment her!” Again though, details are fuzzy and I’m unsure of how to continue.

Hope you have enjoyed this little idea I had. Feel free to comment on it or add your own spin to it. This goes for you and everyone else who sees this.

For the longest time, I thought I already responded to this. Oof- my sickness was deep-

Poor Reader, they were just trying to fit in with the people and instead they were run out of town and attacked.

I think it would make more sense if Reader finds them first. they have no reason to show themselves to the "threat" especially if said threat doesn't know they're there yet. It's a learning opportunity to see what they do and what they've been doing in the comfort of their own home.

If Reader found them on their own, it cold lead to more angst and more opportunity to open up the dialogue for the viewer (I can't really call y'all Reader here, can I?) to learn more about the current world and circumstances. Use for exposition purposes.

I wonder why Reader was trying to copy the people so bad though? Where did Reader come from?

Furthermore, I think maybe the next point of what to do next would lend itself nicely to having Reader join them in their adventures. It's the perfect middle ground to the whole "not our circus, not our monkeys" thing you mentioned while also giving Reader an opportunity to escape the harrassment from the townsfolk.

Granted, I'm not entirely sure where to take it from this point as well. But maybe the community can come up with something. XD

[descendantsramblings]

Im glad you enjoy all the Morgie male fans (idk why we're so many😭 bro is a boy magnet)

And im just dropping a small idea for a part 2 of "In Another Life" where maybe the reader now back in the future meets morgie again who is now like- 22 or 21 years old instead of grown up like the others due to his family having a long life span or a slow growth, maybe his serpentine/snake(?) genes and we get the fluffy ending we deserve

(the requester of the prompt is mean for wanting a sad ending thats why i wanna fix it /hj)

I like the concept of Morgie not aging "properly" due to his magic (and also fell in love with Morgie and his German Prince Boyfriend) so Thank you second anon, I'm absolutely giddy that someone wants a second part to something I made

I Would Be Yours

Find part one here.

Morgie le Fay x Fitzherbert! Reader

Pronouns used: he/him/his

Summary: Who would have thought that the lips that lived in his mind for the last three years would show up in front of him on a rainy Tuesday afternoon?

Warnings: Technically an age gap but its fine because the supernatural element makes it okay (Twilight/tvd/dbda rules around here), Morgie is short for Morgan the way Mal is short for Maleficent propaganda

Word Count:2.3K

(Peder gif because your girl is running out of Morgie ones)

    He wasn’t wrong, the lips of Morgie le Fay had haunted him for the last three and a half years. His dreams were littered with the laughter of the boy he was blessed to hear in the hideout next to him. Or his half lidded adoring eyes that he looked for in the face of every boy who gave him an ounce of attention since he returned. And they did, (Y/n) had grown into his looks in the time between sixteen and nineteen, now at almost twenty he’d gone through his fair share of suitors. None of them felt right though, they couldn’t radiate the feeling of home he was looking for. He’d felt it once before, back when his life was all swords and shields and study hall. But now, as his life has fallen into exam papers, late night red bulls, and coffee shop shifts he’s fallen for the mundane. If the feeling of home was meant to find him, it would come to him in his sense of calm, nothing about the way he used to run around wild was him anymore. He’d grown, if you asked his parents he’d grown beyond his years. He felt like it was simply a side effect of time travel, not that he let himself harp on that much. It would do him no good.  

   Sea Salted Caramel lattes and lavender honey matchas had become his escape from class. There was something in the way the espresso machines buzzed and  the smell of dark roast that came to be relaxing to him. He loved the regulars who babbled to him about their days, the excitable kids who told him too much while their parent ordered. Everything about Briar Roast had become a safe space to him, free of calculus exams and the plaguing what ifs. There was no place to wonder what would’ve happened if he just stayed in the past when he was busy, he liked that. There was no need to dwell, he knew that. And if it wasn’t raining so hard, maybe he wouldn’t be. 

   Storms always brought slow business, no one would be in this part of town other than busied employees who sat in their office jobs or cleaned up around retail stores. Ready to get to their dinner plans or their waiting couches, minds far away from the idea of getting coffee. Tuesdays already brought slow business after nine a.m. and the rain meant the day would bring none. Which he was fine with, poured over a textbook for his “Introductory Law” class that was splayed out on the counter. Exams wouldn’t study for themselves, he should be thankful for the quiet time. And if he could just focus, he would be. The boy sighs, closing the book and grabbing an espresso cup from under the countertop. He just needed some caffeine, it would focus him back in. It always did. He places the tiny cup under the machine, pressing a few buttons as the bell above the door rings out. 

    “Welcome to Briar Roast, I’ll be right with you!” The footsteps of whoever came in are soft, shoes barely dragging the tile floors instead of thumping against them. “Right, take your time. Do you have wifi here? I have a work thing to do.” The voice is almost familiar, a ring similar to one that lived somewhere lodged in the back of the Prince’s mind. “Yeah, it’s not password protected, should come right up as ‘Briar Roast Guest’. What can I get for you?” He’s yet to look at the man, eyes focused down on his screen as he starts a new order. “Oh uh, a Rose macchiato with almond milk if you have it.Oat milk is fine otherwise, I just can’t really do dairy. They’ve got you in here alone, huh?” “Yeah, it’s a Tuesday evening though, and you’re the first person to walk in here in the last hour and a half so, I’ll live. Just in case though, can I get a name for the order?” He looks up as he says it, eyes locking with a pair of hazel ones that make his breath catch in his throat. There’s a moment, with locked eyes that neither of them can get a word out, fondness in the baristas while shock sits in the man’s. 

   “Mein Sonnenschein,” it’s whispered on a sigh, his hands gripping the counter beneath him as if the prince would tumble over. “Excuse me?” He has the ghost of a memory on his tongue as he hears the name. Something he’d looked for everywhere when he’d first heard it four decades prior. It took him forever to find the definition, luckily the Isle had nothing but time and few people went to the library, giving him plenty of time to find it. “My Sunshine” it was German. He never thought he’d hear the term of endearment again, let alone from a college kid who bared a striking resemblance to the first person he’d ever heard it from. He watches as the boy’s face twists into one of shocked panic, staggering back from the counter ever so slightly. “Sorry, you just, you look like a guy I knew moons ago. He, well I mean, there’s no way he’d look like you do now. Probably would be old enough to be your father nowadays. And I am,” he looks down, letting out a pathetic laugh, “I am rambling like a madman. Can I get a name for that macchiato?” “Morgan,” the slightly stiff man’s shoulders relax. His own name sounded almost wrong on his lips for the first time in twenty years. “Morgie” almost slipped through them, the only people who still called him that were Hook and his three kids, why would he introduce himself in such a way? His name elicits a quirked brow and a hum from the barista. The boy going to move his own espresso off of the machine and start the man’s drink. 

    The moment, whatever it was, had clearly ended. He saw that, forcing himself away from the counter and over to a booth in the corner. Morgie’s laptop makes its way out of his bag, setting it up on the table in front of him to start a dreadfully boring spreadsheet. Not that he can focus on it, his mind is running through the conversation they’d had moments before. “You look like someone I knew moons ago.” How long is moons to this boy? Perhaps, no, that's silly. There was no way that he could be the prince from his past. But he did say that Morie couldn’t be the man they knew. Something about how he’d be old enough to be his dad. Maybe he did age slowly like he did. What if it was the mysterious hero from his youth? 

    Glass makes a sweet and gentle clank against the wooden table beside his laptop, dragging the man’s focus up to the boy. He’s smiling softly, “Order up.” It’s soft, nearly flirty as he turns away, headed back to the counter. Morgie watches with soft, needy eyes, taking in his every movement. The boy is leaning over the counter, reading something and sipping slowly from his little espresso cup. “Hey,” his voice startles himself, eyes widening over how loud the sound is. It catches the boy’s attention all the same, his eyes flickering up from the textbook before him and over to Morgie. “Is everything okay? Do you need something?” He laughs, shaking his head as if to shake off the question as a whole. “No, I’m fine I just,” Morgie runs a hand through his hair with a nervous laugh, “I was wondering if you wanted to come join me? I mean it’s not like you’re busy and you’re obviously studying or something. Wouldn’t a table be better for that?” 

    A soft smile flickers over his face, hands softly grasping his book and the little mug beside him. It’s a wordless transition from the counter to the seat in front of him, a gentle nod of thanks being the only thing the boy does before he turns back to his work. It’s dreadfully not enough. Morgie fiddles with his fingers, looking at the boy, “So uh, you from this part of Auradon?” He laughs, thumbing over thick pages, “No, I’m actually from Corona. What about you? You don’t seem to have the right accent to be from here.” Corona, that explained why he knew German, they all spoke German there. Morgie chooses his next words extremely carefully. If this boy knew he had spent time on the Isle he was sure he’d go running for the hills. “Oh, I am but I just moved back, spent a while, away. What are you doing out here then?” He laughs, cutting him eyes from his text book, “You’re the inquisitive type, aren’t you? I’m enrolled in Auradon Academy, my parents wanted me to be well educated before I take the throne.” Morgie nods, leaning forward to look at the words in the book in front of him. “So you’re studying law before you become King? I respect it.” 

    “Actually,” he laughs, shaking his head, “Oh this sounds awful. Actually I started studying law because of someone I knew once. He, uh, he was sent to the Isle and I don’t think he deserved to be there. Not that I got to know him well but I knew well enough. That boy was sunshine on Earth, he was playful and nervous and giddy. And I have thought about nothing but him since we met, there’s no way a guy like that deserved to be caged away in a barrier, you know?” “He was sent to the Isle? It’s been thirty-three years since anyone was sent there. I should know, I was there. What, what was his name? Maybe I knew him.” The barista looks up to him, a look of panic on his face, “Yeah uh, Morgie le Fay, Morgana’s son. I didn’t get to know him well, really I only knew him for a couple days so maybe you know him better than I do. You look a lot like him if I’m honest.” 

    When he looks up at him, Morgan’s face is pale, mouth gapped and eyes bulging as if he saw a ghost. “What,” he swallows, blinking rapidly as he stares at the prince, “What did you say your name was?”  “(Y/n) and if I remember right, I don’t think you ever asked.” Morgan shakes his head, reaching a hand out to touch (Y/n)’s face. It startles him and yet, he doesn’t pull away. “How did you stay so young? It’s been four decades, you’ve aged slower than I have. I didn’t think anyone aged slower than us except maybe Maleficent. What are you?” 

   “I thought it was you,”  his hand comes to cover the one on his cheek, a smile pressing across his lips, “I have thought about you every single day.” “How have you stayed so young?” The question is repeated, more urgent this time as he stares. He’s searching the boy’s face, nearly desperate for answers. As if he could read them off of his face. (Y/n) looks around before standing up, walking over to the door and flipping the open sign around. “Come to the break room with me?” His better instinct says not to follow the boy. For all he knows, that’s a vampire who’s planning to feed on him and there was no way that Morgie would be able to fend that off. His magic had grown so weak in the past three decades, he could get himself hurt. Yet, he finds himself nodding, rising up from his seat and abandoning his work. (Y/n) grabs for his hand and he lets the boy take it, dragging him back behind the counter and into the break room. The door slams behind them, the prince’s back pushing against it. 

   “This is, god this is crazy. It’s crazy and I need you to listen to me and believe me despite how crazy it is. We never were meant to meet. I was born a little under two decades ago. I, well not me but my friend who wasn't really my friend at the time, had this magic pocket watch. Her tutor built it and it could take you back in time to help you get what you want most in life. She accidentally brought me along when she used it and I never meant to meet you. While I was going to Auradon Prep I’d hide in that old hideout in the black lagoon. I didn’t ever really think about who used it before me. But you did and I did meet you. It was so wonderful and I was some big idiot who kissed you. God, you have plagued my thoughts ever since we met, I mean seriously I have been thinking about kissing you since you walked in. There hasn’t been a single kiss that felt like yours since, which is unfair.” Morgie laughs, stepping closer to him, “You’re rambling.” “Sorry.” 

    Morgie shakes his head, grabbing his cheek, “I don’t think it’s a bad thing. I find it kind of endearing. Especially since you’re rambling about me.” His thumb rubs over the boy’s cheek, eyes flickering between his lips and his eyes. He leans up towards his lips and the man moves back, eliciting a whine from the boy. “Morgie, please.” “I can’t, do you know how much older than you I am?” “No older than you were last time,” he’s nearly whimpering as he says it, eyes set on the boy’s face, “And it’s not like you look it. You’re physically what, twenty-two? Mein Sonnenschein, please.” He knows he shouldn’t, everything in Morgie’s brain screams at him to let go of the boy. But (Y/n) isn’t the only one who’s been thinking about their kiss for years. So he leans in, feeling that same gentle spark he’d felt all those years ago. It’s soft, gentle, adoring. Warm as the sun, their lips were built for each other. And for the first time in years, they feel at home.