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writers-hes · 2 years ago

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“get out.” - s. harrington x reader (OLD VERSION)

Steve tells you to get out of the car because of a disagreement. (asshole!steve, best friend!eddie, a bit of stancy) —just a blurb blurb

NEW VERSION NOW POSTED!

“It’s the same fucking thing all the time with you,” you complained.

You didn’t know how you landed yourself in this again. When you agreed to date Steve for the first

time many months ago, he promised that you had nothing to worry about; that he was loyal to you and that you will both work on communication.

“And it’s the same shit with you. You’re always fucking—complaining about things that I can’t control,” he replied, swerving away from the trashbin that he almost hit. “Fuck!”

It was just some party, some stupid party that you both agreed to go to. Well, Steve wanted to go because his friends will be there. Robin, Eddie, and Nancy. The thing was, Nancy didn’t do anything. She just needed a friend because Jonathan had been dodgy and Steve was there. In fact, you love Nancy but Steve and her together in the bedroom of Phil Newton’s house? Not so much.

The worst part is, Steve had no plans to tell you. It wasn’t until you asked Robin where your boyfriend was that she answered, “I’m not supposed to tell you this so, please don’t tell Steve. He’s in Phil’s bedroom with Nancy.”

God, it filled you with dread. Worst case scenario—Nancy and Steve were fucking after professing that they still have feelings for each other. But still, Steve promised. Right? So, you went upstairs and knocked on the door multiple times. Steve opened it with guilt written all over his face. Guilt dissolves into annoyance and you braced yourself.

“What,” he asked, his face tight. He was annoyed with Robin, really. She was the only one who knew where he was. He needed to comfort Nancy because Jonathan isn’t coming back to Hawkins for the break. You were taken aback by his snarky attitude.

“I, is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Do you need anything?”

“Can we go home?” you asked. You hated tonight. You didn’t want to come here and Eddie left you for Nancy as soon as she areived with Robin. You were left to drink some lukewarm punch by the sofa. You saw Eddie but he was too busy dealing and you didn’t want to be a bother.

“Sure. Here are the keys. Go start the car and I’ll be down in ten minutes,” he replied, giving you the key before closing the door again.

You stood there, dumbfounded before stomping your way to his car. You would’ve left but you didn’t know where you were. Phil lived in the outskirts of Hawkins and Steve was supposed to be your ride. You slammed the door of Steve’s BMW when Eddie

“I can hear you stomping from the pool,” Eddie teased, leaning on the passenger window. “What’s wrong?”

“Steve is wrong,” you frowned. “He dragged me all the way here and ditched me as soon as he found Nancy. They’re upstairs,”

“Damn,” Eddie replied. Even he couldn’t provide comforting words. “Well, you’re with me. Super cool, super nice me,”

“Didn’t you sell me double the price when we first met?” you asked. True but it was an old gag that you shared with him. “I still haven’t received my rebates,”

“I give you enough free stuff, sweets. I should be the one getting rebates. I’m thinking of milkshakes,” he said, eyes widening. “I could just taste it! Oh, chocolate milkshake and because you’re so nice, burgers. I’ll pick you up tomorrow,”

“Eddie! I didn’t agree—“

“Yeah, yeah but you owe me.” he replied. “Also, did you know? I went to Lover's Lake the other day, right? Guess who I saw fucking in the woods. That

cheerleader with blonde hair and that kid from English? The one that reads loudly to himself,”

“No way,”

“Yes, way. I saw them! With my own eyes!” he exclaimed, making you chuckle loudly. Steve was frowning from behind Eddie. You looked so miserable when you talked to him earlier and now that you’re with Eddie you’re fucking laughing? Steve watched your smile fade away as he neared, his frown deepening. Eddie looked back, and whistled. “Hey, Steve,”

“Munson,” Steve replied. “Girlfriend and I are leaving,”

“Oh,” Eddie replied, nodding. He looks at you and mouths “scary”, making you laugh and Eddie leaves, jogging back to the pool for business.

That was how you found yourself in this situation, eyes and knees away from Steve, watching the dark trees blur at the speed of his car.

“Can’t control? I told you that your relationship with Nancy is bothering me and I find you alone in a room together?” you asked.

“It’s not like I can just say ‘Sorry, Nance. My girlfriend is so jealous of you, she doesn’t want us spending time together. Or should I?” Steve asked, venom dripping in his voice. “It’s the same shit with you and Eddie,”

“No, it isn’t. Eddie and I are friends. You weren’t there when everyone knows you were with Nancy in Phil’s fucking bedroom. Everyone except for me!” you replied, your voice raising in volume. “Same fucking shit, Steve. Same shit and I’m so tired of fighting.”

“You shouldn’t have come to the party, then,” he mutters and you pause, counting to ten to calm yourself down.

“It was you who wanted me there, remember? I didn’t want to attend that party but you dragged me. You ditched me the moment Nancy arrived. Do you remember? I don’t…I’m nit even sure if I want to be in the same soace with you right now.” you heaved, tears springing up your eyes. Steve could only hear how you didn’t want to be with him. Slowing down some street, you looked at him in confusion. You just really wanted to go home.

“Get the fuck out,” he mutters, looking at anywhere but you.

“Wh-what?”

“Get the fuck out,” he repeated. “You don’t want to be with me right? So get out.”

You stilled, looking at your surroundings. There was nothing but harrowing trees and a lone light. You nodded, rushing out of the door and watching as Steve sped away from you. When he was far enough, you let your shoulders deflate and sobbed. Where did it all go wrong? Steve was never like this with anyone. Why did he…dislike you so much? You walked back to the party, trying to remember the way.

It was so dark and Steve knew how much you hated walking in it. You didn’t know where you were and Steve knew how much you hated being lost. There were no sounds but the creek and the hooting of the owls and Steve knew how much you hated the silence.

Wrapping your arms to protect you from the darkness and the silence, you walked. You were rushing back because you didn’t know where you were and you were scared; so fucking scared of the night. You’ve been walking for how many minutes now and you could’ve called but there were no payphones anywhere. It was just the occasional street lamp and nothing else. Would you even risk hitching a ride if a car passes by?

“Fuck!” you cried, sobbing uncontrollably when your arm hung itself on some stray wire by the abandoned bus stop. The sting rips through your whole body, limping until the trees looked somewhat familiar.

Soon, you followed the loud bass of the speakers. Kids your age spilled out of the house and you followed from where they came from. The party. You were back from where you started. You shuddered, hoping to God that Eddie was there. Or maybe Robin. Fuck, Nancy, if she was the last resort. You just really wanted to go home.

It was Robin and Eddie who found you by the door. Apparently, there was some chick by the pool who was crying to herself. Descriptions matched what you wore that night and how you looked; there was no other choice than to rush to you. Sure enough, when they ran to the pool, you were there siyting by the edge. Black tears ran down your face, a scowl settled on your lips as you shielded yourself away from the world. Robin noticed the red on your arm, rushing towards your hunched figure.

Eddie was hot on her tails, hiding you under his arms to quiet you down. They led you to Eddie’s van without any words; what should be explained anyway? Isn’t it enough? Your friends looked at each other while your body shook with sadness and frustration.

“S-sorry,” you managed, and you felt Eddie’s grim on your shoulder tighten.

“It’s okay,” Robin replied, opening the door for you. You curled into her when they were settled, Eddie starting his van to drive you back home.

“What happened?” Robin asked. Eddie’s eyes snapped towards you and she was about to say sorry when you replied.

“Steve told me to get out of his car in the middle of nowhere and left me,” you managed between sobs. Their hearts broke. You looked so small and forlorn; so defeated and empty. “I just wanted to go home. I don’t even want to anymore because he might be there.”

“It’s okay. We can go back to the trailer. You can share the bed with Robin and I’ll sleep on the couch.” Eddie assured before driving the trailer park with a crying girl on the passenger seat.

#get out!steve #old version #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst

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staybabblingbaby · 2 months ago

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Soulmate Garden AU Ch.2 (Anemone) a2d1

[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: 4,075

Notes: As promised from the poll! I actually had an old version of Ch.2 laying around :D I don't know that i saved anything from Ch.3 But I'll look. We'll see. Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: She/Her Reader

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

Masterlist <3 | Main 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. After concerts like this, Chan and his soulmates found it easier to just load up in whatever order they happened to exit the venue in.

Today that meant he was in the second van, as usual, preceded by Minho, Jisung, and Felix.

It was a relatively quiet combination of their soul cluster, 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 let things lie.

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.

It’s there that Chan is stuck struggling on his own as Felix directs 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 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 directs.

“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 theirs.

“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, images complete, lines drawn. 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 themselves 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!” He reassures, “We don’t have anymore 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.

“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 to him. 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 it 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.

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 knew that he didn’t really get on with his folks, just like you, and that every word you told him in confidence would 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. 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. 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 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.

#skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #baby writes #skz fanfic #w.i.p fic #skz fic #w.i.p #SGAU #Soulmate Garden AU #Soulmate AU #skz soulmate au #Old Version

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