#soulmate AU

[goldsbitch]

shameless reblog to help us ignore all the bad things that are happening to charles on the track manifesting miracles

Past lives

Charles Leclerc is opening an ice-cream shop...And nobody knows why.

romantic, soulmate au, one shot, short

"Past lives couldn't ever hold me down Lost love is sweeter when it's finally found I've got the strangest feeling This isn't our first time around" - Past Lives, Børns

It's the little things that resonate for no apparent reason.

The fact he would always lean towards a perfume with bergamot undertones - because ages ago, the love of his life was obsessed with bergamot tea.

The fact she would have the windows open at any possible occasion - because in her past, she and the love of her life lived in a small house at the top of a windy hill.

The fact he hated alcohol, because in one their lifetimes, the love of his life drowned her sorrows a little too often and lost herself in it.

The fact she could not watch war time movies, because in one of their past lives he died tragically, and a little too early for them to build a proper life together.

They did not get to meet in each life. But when they did, it was one for the history books. Not the ones about grandiose, history changing events, but the little sweet ones, usually to be found at the back of the antique bookstores. The mundane miracles that are hard to describe to the unlucky ones, who do not get to experience them. Some of them end up with a happy end, some of them with the biggest life lessons human soul can swallow.

It's the strange feeling of "I belong here" or "I think this will taste good". Why? Because you had seen it in the past, because you had been there in a different life time.

Fate plays a funny little game. Has one and their soulmate born just in time for them to be able to find each other, but likes to put obstacles in between. Distance, social barriers, conflicting dreams.

This kind of love leaves traces around the history. Songs, poems, buildings and initials carved into stones and benches. Wedding rings passed on in families and eventually sold once everyone has forgotten. Portraits of unknown faces and photos found at the bottom of old wardrobes. The ancient piping in an old house that still works because he built it for her to live in.

The soul keeps a memory, unreachable to the simple mind of the body, as it travelled from one lifetime to another.

That's how she found herself staring at a random, actually not that important, painting hung in a gallery exhibition dedicated to landscapes from the romantic era. She wasn't exactly a galleries type of person, but a girls trip to Paris had to include something more than parties and shopping. She stood there for good five minutes, totally mesmerised by a painting that did not particularly stood out from the rest. Little did she know that the silhouette standing in the field was one of her past self and that the painting had been done by her soulmate in one of their luckier past lives. It was like she could smell the summer weeds growing, hear the ground under her feet and understood what the author wanted to capture. And he was successful enough to capture the attention of his love throughout centuries once again. As her friends dragged her away to end their artsy part of their trip, she made sure to mark the name of the artist.

For some inexplicable reason, Charles Leclerc, in this life a racing driver, was opening an ice cream shop in in Milan. It probably would have made more sense to everyone, himself included, if he'd known that in one of their luckier past lives, he and his soulmate met in a small café in that city, few decades before that. He would come in one day, order an ice-cream and then did not stop coming until he managed to charm her.

[linoxpudding]

Written In The Stars- Lee Know (Bonus Part)

summary: just some soft moments, lingering emotions, and a whole lot of soulmate feelings

pairing: lee know x fem!reader

genre: fluff, soulmate au

word count: 1198 words

a/n: a lil bonus scene (or should I say part 2.5?) that takes place right after the end of part 2! hope you enjoy ♡

Part 1 Part 2

Masterlist

~°~

You were in his arms, he held you close, pulling you impossibly closer, like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers again. The rain still clung to his clothes, dampening yours.

“Minho, you’re drenched,” you murmured, pressing a hand against his soaked shirt. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“I don’t care.” His voice was hoarse, like he had been holding back for too long. “Not when you’re finally in my arms.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes despite the warmth blooming in your chest. “I’m your soulmate, Minho. I’m stubborn too.”

A slow smile tugged at his lips. “I know.”

You pushed lightly at his chest. “Get off. You need to change.”

Reluctantly, he let go, exhaling as he walked toward your living room while you rushed to grab an oversized T-shirt and flannel pajama pants. He glanced around your space, a fond smile tugging at his lips as he took in the way you had decorated it. When you returned, he was still looking, like he was trying to memorize every inch of this moment. You hesitated for a second before handing them over.

Minho took the dry clothes with a smirk. “Your clothes now, huh?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just change.”

As he peeled off his wet shirt, you turned your back, suddenly feeling warm despite the chill in the air. When you turned around again, he was already wearing your shirt, the fabric swallowing his frame just a little. Then, you glanced down and burst into laughter.

Minho frowned, looking down at himself. That's when he noticed the pajama pants. Your flannel pajama pants, decorated with tiny, round-faced cats wearing little bows.

“Are you serious?” he deadpanned.

You covered your mouth, trying to stifle your laughter. “They were the first thing I grabbed, I swear.”

Minho sighed, shaking his head dramatically. “Of course. Of all the pants in your drawer, you had to give me these.”

“You like cats,” you pointed out, grinning.

“I like real cats,” he grumbled, tugging at the waistband. “Not ones that make me look like I belong at a kindergarten sleepover.”

You giggled, stepping closer. “You look cute, though.”

Minho narrowed his eyes at you but said nothing. Instead, he flopped onto your couch with a dramatic sigh, arms open. “Come here, since you clearly enjoy torturing me.”

You smiled, curling up beside him. The rain hadn’t stopped. It drummed against the windows in a steady rhythm, filling the quiet space between you. Minho was warm against you, his body molding perfectly to yours as you curled up together.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His fingers absentmindedly traced the mark on his wrist—the same mark that adorned yours. The weight of everything, the months of longing, the pain of being apart, it all settled in the quiet space between you.

Your fingers traced patterns along his arm, feeling the solid warmth beneath his (your) T-shirt. “You’re still cold,” you murmured.

He hummed in response, nuzzling closer, his nose brushing against your collarbone. “You’re warm,” he said simply.

His weight was comforting, his presence so familiar despite everything that had happened. Your eyes drifted back to his wrist, where the faint star-shaped mark rested. The same one you had dreamed about for years.

Gently, you took his hand in yours, turning it so you could see the mark properly. The star was small but perfect, an undeniable proof of what had always been written in the universe. Your thumb brushed over it, tracing its outline like you were committing it to memory, even though it had already been carved into your heart long ago.

Minho watched you in silence, his gaze unreadable. Then, slowly, you lifted his hand and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the mark.

His breath hitched.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe. His fingers twitched in yours, and you felt the way his entire body tensed, like he was trying to process the sensation of your lips against something so deeply connected to him.

He let out a shaky breath. “I was an idiot.”

You tilted your head, watching the way his jaw tensed, his brows furrowed deep in regret.

“I hurt you,” he murmured, voice thick with guilt.

Your heart clenched at his words. You knew he had hurt you. You knew how much it hurt. But you also knew it hadn’t been easy for him either.

Gently, you reached out and took his hand again, urging him to look at you. “You didn’t know,” you whispered. “You were in a difficult position, baby.”

Minho froze. His eyes widened slightly before softening in an instant.

“…Say that again?” His voice was barely above a whisper, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He cupped your face, his touch impossibly tender.

You blinked, confused. “What?”

He gently brushed his thumb over your cheeks. “Say it again,” he repeated, voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart squeezed at how small he sounded, how much those words meant to him. Cupping his face, you whispered, “Baby.”

Minho made a noise between a sigh and a whimper before burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Again.”

A soft laugh escaped you as you stroked his hair. “Baby.”

Minho sighed dramatically before burying his face into your shoulder, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

“You’re never allowed to stop calling me that,” he mumbled into your skin.

You giggled, threading your fingers through his damp hair. “You’re so clingy.”

“You made me like this,” he muttered, his arms tightening around your waist. “You avoided me for months. I’m making up for lost time.”

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest as he clung to you. You hadn’t expected him to be this affectionate, but you weren’t complaining.

After a while, Minho finally pulled back, looking at you with fondness before he suddenly let you go.

“Alright,” he announced, “I’m making you food.”

You blinked at him, startled by the sudden shift. “What?”

“You need food,” he said simply, already moving to stand. “And I need to do something other than cling to you or I’m gonna lose my mind.”

You rolled your eyes, but a playful smile tugged at your lips as you guided him into your kitchen. He looked around, hesitating for a moment before turning to you.

"Where do you keep the spices?" he asked, opening the wrong cabinet first.

You bit back a laugh and pointed to the right one. "Second shelf."

Minho hummed in acknowledgment, quickly gathering the ingredients like he was trying to familiarize himself with your kitchen—his first time here, but already making himself at home.

“Need any other help?” you asked, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, resting your cheek against his back.

Minho stiffened for a second before chuckling. “You just called me clingy, and now you’re the one who won’t let go?”

You smirked against his shirt. “You’re comfy.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, shaking his head with amusement.

Still, he let you cling to him, even as he chopped vegetables, even as he stirred the pot. You let out a contented sigh.

You could get used to this.

-----------------

Taglist:

@kaiyaba @lov3rachan @pixie-felix @ellemir2404 @willowhanji @skzimagines @wavetohannie @jamroses @vietjeb @kayleefriedchicken @kokinu09 @nightmarenyxx @my-neurodivergent-world

Part 2 Taglist: @annovaz @lailac13 @thepoeticpurplepotato (since it's an extension to part 2, I thought you guys would like to be tagged ♡)

Bonus Part Taglist: @kissesmellow21

[hongjoongspoetry]

Just Another Night, Until You | Choi San

❤️‍🔥 Summary: Hectic nights at work is nothing out of the ordinary for you, but when a man is wheeled into the Intensive Care Unit with second degree burns all over his body and in the need of immediate medical attention, your life takes a turn as his body heals on his own by the mere presence of you. Shocked by the discovery, you stay by his side as he recovers and together you come to terms with your unexpected connection.

❤️‍🔥 Pairing(s): Firefighter!San x Emergency physician!Reader

❤️‍🔥 Genres/Tropes: Soulmate AU, non-idol AU, best friend's brother, oldest daughter and youngest son, slice of life, fluff

❤️‍🔥 Warnings/Tags: female reader, no use of (Y/N), brief description of burn injuries, medical setting, san is living up to his romance-cat title, pet names (darling, my love, love, honey), MC is a Jeong, a lot of physical intimacy, kisses gallore, san is down bad for the MC, brief description of motorcycle accident and fractured bones (not explicit), the fear of losing loved ones, emotional exhaustion, a few swear words, not beta read!

❤️‍🔥 Wordcount: 7.5K

❤️‍🔥 Author's Note: Click the image for a better resolution (Tumblr I hate you). Wihooo! And there goes the second to last instalment of the March Event ;-; im lowkey sad it's ending soon although it gives me more time to work on other stuff!! anyhow, this one was really fun to write and I hope you'll enjoy it, be prepared for a lot of love sick sannie 🥹 Btw I'm not a nurse/doctor or have any "proper" knowledge regarding how things go down in the E.R or hospital for that matter either, so this is all based on excessive research. Thank you for your understanding!

This is all fiction and not meant to represent any idols involved in any way or form. This work is rated SFW, however it contains mature scenes such as descriptions of serious injuries, medical procedures as well as adult language. Minors, please, read at your own risk and refrain from interacting or following my blog!

AO3 Masterpost Moodboard Event taglist

It was an exceptionally calm hour in Seoul National University Hospital. Most nights were bustling with life, whether it’d be residential patients abusing the call button, relatives refusing to leave after visiting hours were over or an incoming emergency putting the whole hospital in a fit. But not tonight. The clock hanging on the wall opposite of the nurse’s station in the emergency department recently struck midnight. You slumped down by your desk as Haneul, your roommate, best friend and fellow colleague, dragged her legs behind her and nearly toppled over her seat. You finished off the last rounds of checking in on the inpatients on your floor, yet your social batteries were already drained and the nightshift had just started. 

Haneul blew a raspberry before her head dropped onto the desk with a soft thud. She groaned and threw herself back on the chair, her arms extended and legs elevated. Her slip-on shoes barely hung onto her feet and she wasn’t faring any better.

“I’m so tired,” she complained and went limp in her seat. “I can’t wait to clock out and return to my boyfriend.”

You let out an amused huff, the pencil twirling in your fingers coming to a stop as you caught it mid air. “You mean your bed?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Ha-ha, really funny Haneul.”

“It’s a bit funny, admit it!”

You rolled your eyes at her, but couldn’t fight off the smile that spread across your face. It was never a dull moment when in Haneul’s company. You were certain that even if death were around the corner, she’d still find a way to make the situation feel light. That was probably why you two had hit it off at university. She was mostly, if not always, in a cheerful mood, while you walked around with a dark cloud over your head. Had it not been for Haneul approaching you solely because your shirt was similar to one of her favorite character’s outfits in a drama, you probably would never have become friends. A decade later and you were tighter than two peas in a pod, and even decided — after your first semester — to move into a flat together which was still your current home.

“Whatever… I can’t complain as it’s at least a quiet night.”

The unspoken rule of never mentioning the obvious flashed before your eyes and you cowered from the blazing look Haneul shot your way. The air was caught in your throats and neither dared to move an inch from your places. You slowly turned your head sideways, waiting for a patient to peek their head out or scream that their pillow needed puffing up. As the empty hallway continued staying silent and the motion sensor lights didn’t turn on, you exhaled in relief.

“You got lucky there,” she said and logged into her computer. 

As you parted your mouth to answer, a voice broke through from the radio placed on the wall-mounted brackets. A report concerning a handful of people who were hurt in a fire set loose in an apartment came through and everyone ditched their tasks to get ready for the newcomers. You and Haneul, along with other nurses, ran to the trauma bay and occupied a room each where you, hopefully not, would get a patient each. The sound of multiple sirens grew louder the faster the ambulances sped toward the hospital and didn’t stop until the flashes of red and blue colored the building. Despite being employed for two years and counting, you never got accustomed to the ear piercing noise or blinding lights.

“Nurse Kim, could you prepare the wound care kit? Nurse Hwang, bring the respiratory support system. We don’t know what we’re dealing with so we need to expect the worst!”

The commotion from the triage area reached your room as the patients were being rolled into the hospital and underwent the initial assessment of their conditions. The code red patients would fall into your hands and you, together with your team, would do your utmost to lessen their injuries. You put the other glove on and waited by the door of your room. The sight before you was jarring to say the least. The victims of the fire were all in different conditions. Some crying and wincing from the burnmarks while others lay completely still as if the burned skin wasn’t a painful inconvenience. The wonders of falling unconscious. An elderly nurse with a couple of years beneath her belt pushed a stretcher toward you and you hastily moved out of the way. 

Nurse Yeon quickly spewed the little information she knew of the unconscious patient, but you couldn’t focus on her words. Your entire attention was given to the man before you. He looked peaceful despite the soot smudged across his face and several burn marks littering the majority of his body. He was also handsome — very handsome. That, you couldn’t deny. His black strands fell over his closed eyes and brows. Most of his features were sharp and defined, red heart-shaped lips in a slight pout, a long nose with a prominent bridge, high cheekbones and a few beauty marks peeking out from beneath the smeared ash. But you knew that, out of everything, his most alluring feature was his eyes — even when closed. You could see the feline-like shape that reminded you of a panther in the wild and you found yourself wondering what color they were. A tingle erupted along the pads of your fingers, almost begging you to move his hair out of the way. 

“...He was found unconscious in the building after being caught in the fire. Red category. He has second-degree burns on twenty percent of his body, severe smoke inhalation and is currently in respiratory distress. We’ve initiated oxygen therapy. BP is low and bolus fluids were administered to stabilize circulation. He is unresponsive, likely due to hypoxia.”

Nurse Yeon brought you back to the present and you ignored the highly unprofessional thought. With the help of Nurse Kim, you connected him to a monitoring machine and proceeded with the remaining steps of the protocol drilled into your spine. You administered high-flow oxygen via a non-rebreather mask to address the smoke inhalation and to prevent breathing issues later on.

Facing away from the patient to grab a scalpel in order to cut his already torn shirt, you just about turned your head and called out, “Nurse Kim, give him an IV fluid with saline to prevent shock and maintain blood pressure as well as a light dose of morphine to relieve him of pain. Nurse Hwang, hand me the scalpel, please.”

The nurses wasted no time following your orders. While Nurse Kim stabilized the patient’s blood pressure, you drove the sharp end of the scalpel through the center of his shirt to expose the injured area and assess what else you had to work with. As expected, there were blotches of irritated, red skin all over his upper body. It didn’t look too bad but would scar if left untreated. Your main concern was the smoke inhalation, but the high-flow oxygen proved effective, as the pulse oximeter showed that the oxygen saturation in his blood was slowly improving and you could swiftly move on to treat his wounds.

“Nurse Hwang, hand me the antiseptic soluti–”

A horrified gasp cut you off mid sentence and your head flung to the doorway where a nurse — a trainee at that — stood with her wide eyes and mouth hanging open behind her health mask. The interruption crawled beneath your skin like electricity. You glanced down at her nametag.

“Trainee Park?”

The student didn’t budge nor make a noise of acknowledgement and you had half a mind to terminate the established contract between the hospital and nursing school. You understood the weight of students gaining hands-on experience in a hospital setting, but it was beyond the agreement for a student to interrupt a life alternating moment for the patient.

“Trainee Park I won’t ask you a second time, what is it?!” 

Antiseptic solution in hand, you faced the student again, though her focus wasn’t on you but on something behind you. A line formed between your brows as you followed her gaze, leading to what she was staring at. Your patient still lay unconscious, his chest rising and falling in rhythmic motion, but you weren’t caught off guard by his regulated breathing. The patches of glaring red skin that previously looked painful to the eye were replaced with a lighter hue as if his body was recovering on its own. It was inhumane and in all your years as both a student and a licensed doctor, you had never seen anything like it. However, everyone in the room knew exactly what it meant.

“Fuck…”

One of the male nurses found the patient’s ID-card in the cardholder neatly tucked in the pocket of his pants while changing him into a hospital gown, but it was the teary look on Haneul after seeing the man’s face that everything clicked in place. Choi San, the little brother of your best friend, was your soulmate. 

The realization didn’t hit you while standing in the center of the trauma room or when his injuries healed more quickly beneath the touch of your finger. The fact that you had found your soulmate dawned on you early one morning, as you were making rounds between the remaining victims of the apartment fire and came across his room — the last patient to be checked on. The thought of finding your soulmate hadn’t crossed your mind in years. It was locked away in your old high school classroom, along with your youth, when you used to fret over who your soulmate might be. Would they be a foreigner? A celebrity? A boy or a girl? Rich, kind, or rude? The possibilities seemed endless, and you often spent more time daydreaming about the different outcomes than focusing on your studies. It was a miracle you didn’t fail most of your classes.

It was only when you set a goal that you lost interest in who your soulmate was and dedicated more of your time to studying. Little by little, as assignments piled up, you pushed the thought of your other half to the back of your mind and forgot about it. Of course, there were instances when the topic would come up every now and then — meeting distant relatives for the first time in forever and having them ask about your partner, or going out to dinner with Haneul and watching her get so drunk she forgets her own name, but still manages to make bets. Looks like you’d be treating her to that BBQ after all.

You entered the room and stopped at the end of the patient bed staring at San’s sleeping form. The harmless jealousy seeped into your bones as he lay there oblivious to the turmoil wrecking havoc inside of you and you wondered if, despite his unconscious state, he could feel even a glimpse of your emotions. Because you could feel him throughout your entire shift. The change in breathing, eyes fluttering, the subtle rise and fall of his chest as if he was right there with you.

The joke you once cracked to Haneul when you first started working there, something along the lines of finding your soulmate while tending to their wounds, wasn’t funny anymore and left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue. You sighed and glanced down at the patient chart hanging off the bedside. His vitals were good. More than good considering he was being driven straight from a burning building. Doctor Jung ran some tests on him during the night and they confirmed that San suffered greatly until he arrived at the hospital, until he reached you.

The doors of the room were violently pushed open and the eldest Choi entered as if her brother wasn’t lying there unconscious. Her unexpected arrival stopped your thoughts from spiraling further and your heart from racing into palpitations. It was weird to see her lips pressed into a thin line and eyes void of light, replacing her usual dimpled smile that would brighten your day. 

“How is he?” She eventually asked and buried her hands in the pockets of her white coat.

You cleared your throat and mimicked her stance, both of you focused on the resting man. “He’s healthier than a newborn baby.”

Five hours of constantly being on your feet, moving around and not having the chance to take a five minute toilet break put you in a hazy mist. It wasn’t until now that you felt the weight of the situation sink in. Who would’ve thought your best friend’s brother was your soulmate?

“You know,” Haneul started and broke you out of your thoughts. “I’m happy it’s you. Someone I know and trust as much as I trust myself.”

The words were oddly warm and spread a branch of hope through you. While you were too caught up with your work and then your own feelings, you didn’t stop to think what Haneul thought of everything. Her two worlds were colliding and it could either be good or bad.

“Is it weird?”

“Not at all… It’s the best thing I could ask for. That my best friend and brother get along… Just…” Haneul gnawed on the side of her bottom lip and turned to you, “Just don’t hurt him, Jeong. San is a tough cookie, but he has a fragile heart and I really don’t want to ever choose between you. You are both very dear to me.”

“You won’t have to. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t hurt him even if I tried.”

Haneul chuckled despite the tears making their escape down her cheeks. “Is it really like how they say? Are you already… affected by him?”

You breathed out a laugh at that. The countless nights spent talking and making fun of other couples who had already found their happily ever after were sure biting you in the ass, because it was, in fact, exactly how they said it would be. The unexplainable pull drawing you toward him, the yearning to be by his side and feeling him everywhere. Every skip of his heart, harsh intake of air and twitch of his fingers were all transferred to you

“Yeah, it’s exactly how they say it is.”

Haneul eventually left to do her last rounds and finish writing reports until the sun peeked over the horizon, signaling the end of your second night shift that week. San didn’t wake up until a few hours later and despite being hooked to a monitor regulating his state and showing nothing out of the ordinary, you didn’t leave his side for even a second. The dread of another emergency report coming through squeezed your abdomen until you were on the verge of puking. Just the thought of parting from him almost sent you hurling your insides in the guest bathroom. You were lucky to have wonderful colleagues who understood the circumstances and reassured you multiple times not to worry about finishing your reports or doing rounds. Nurse Hwang and Kim even passed by with snacks and water before returning to work.

The clock struck early morning when your chin slid off your knuckles and you were unpleasantly awoken from your slumber. The fear of falling to your death had you jumping out of your seat and taking in your surroundings. The sun gently shone through the windows occupying the entire left side of the room and filled the space with auburn streaks kissing your face. The warm rays seeped through the cherry blossom trees planted along the outskirts of the hospital. You found the view to be exceptionally beautiful during the early mornings when the pink petals detached from the branches, swirling in the air like snowflakes and covering the boring cement pavement..

A laser like heat bored into the side of your head and you scanned the room to find the source, only to get lost in the eyes of your soulmate. A wide smile stretched across his face and you realized the dimple gene ran deep in the Choi family as an identical pair to Haneul’s popped on San’s cheeks. You couldn’t shake away the image of a content and well fed cat at the sight of him. 

San immediately shifted the blanket to the side and had one bare foot planted on the floor, ready to leap out of bed and wrap you in his arms. The man just about managed to stand on both legs when you rushed from your seat and gently pushed him back down.

“No, no, please, sit!”

San fell back on the mattress without much of a fight. The moment your hand made contact with his shoulder, an explosion of tingles erupted along your palm, spreading like wildfire through your arm and out to the rest of your limbs, reaching the tips of your toes and fingers. The air caught in your throat and, like magnets forced together, your eyes found his again. Neither of you had to vocalize the question balancing on the tip of your tongues, asking if the other felt that crackling fire. San sensed the twinge of worry squeezing at your heart and hummed in content, he reached out and grabbed one of your hands in his to ease the burden atop your shoulders. He smiled so hard his eyes turned into crescent moons and hadn’t you known better, you’d think he’d start purring like a cat receiving ear scratches. 

“I’m fine. I don’t need rest because you are here.”

You ignored the heat pooling beneath your cheeks at his rather flamboyant response and steered the conversation elsewhere. “What were you thinking running into a burning building?”

The words came out effortlessly, as if you had known him since your youth.

“I didn’t do it on purpose…” He began and jutted out his bottom lip. “My feet just moved on their own, call it an instinct. Besides, I couldn’t just leave everyone inside. I’d put shame on the entire fire department!”

“Curse you for being reckless and kind hearted, San.”

“Yet thanks to my recklessness, I landed in the hospital and found you.”

The cheeky reply nearly made you pop a blood vessel. You didn’t understand how he could be so calm after facing death less than eight hours ago. The monitor attached to him shouldn’t have been stable. Based on your past experience with burn victims, San should’ve been startled and shaken up, and in some uncomfortable pain. Instead, he remained unnervingly composed, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made you question your own knowledge. His calmness felt unnatural, given the circumstances. The heart rate monitor, which should’ve shown elevated readings due to stress, stayed oddly steady and only spiked up when you spoke, moved or looked at him for too long.

“San… we are soulmates. We would’ve met eventually,” you hissed, trying to mask the look of realization on your face. The soulmate bond explained his calm demeanor. As he said, he was fine now that you were there, while you just wanted to cover him in bubble wrap and not let him out of your sight.

“Yes, but not soon enough.”

You abandoned the conversation for now as it wouldn’t lead anywhere. San was deadset on his decision being correct even though it was a foolish one and you still had a job to do. Ignoring the way he followed your every movement, a polite smile and creased eyes never leaving your form, you adjusted his pillows and checked the IV attached to his forearm. 

“Do you need anything else?”

“Hmmm, just you.”

Had you met under different circumstances, perhaps in a grocery store where you'd bump carts together or on a packed bus where he’d give up his seat for you and stand by your side to shield you from the other commuters, his charms would’ve worked. But you didn’t. Instead San decided to search the burning building for others with no gear, just his strong will and hope clinging onto his back, and all his attempts at flirting were futile as you couldn’t get the image of his unconscious body out of your head.

“Too bad,” you settle on saying. “You can’t have me before twelve PM.”

The pout intensified and he even crossed his arms in retaliation. Seeing a man in his late twenties throw a silent tantrum wasn’t something you thought you’d ever find endearing, but there you were, suppressing a laugh and yearning to smooth out the wrinkles on his forehead. 

“Do you have to go?” He whispered and looked up at you through his lashes.

“Yes, unless you want me to be fired?”

“Fine! But the second that clock hits twelve, you and I are both getting out of here.”

“You can’t just leave, San, they have to run tests and–”

“I’ve never felt better and I think every doctor in the building can agree with me. What I will be if I don’t get to spend time with you is sick, and sad, and heartbroken and–”

“I get it, I get it!”

San lived up to his promise of spending time with you. In fact, he wasted no time running down the hallway the moment the minute hand switched to twelve, asking everyone dressed in white cloaks where Doctor Jeong was. The question left his mouth for the tenth time that minute just as you rounded the corner, ready to check out. San gave you all of three seconds to bid your colleagues goodbye before whisking you away. His plan of getting to know you consisted of lying tangled up on his sofa with a meaningless movie playing in the background, while his fingers caressed your back and his eyes shifted back to you every other second, as if he couldn’t believe you were real. 

You weren’t faring any better. Your head was neatly tucked beneath his chin, and your hand was splayed over his right pectoral, the tips of your fingers gently rubbing soothing motions beneath the curve of his collarbone. Had you known your soulmate would be a kitten with separation anxiety, you’d have stalled on meeting him for a little while longer. Although, deep down, you knew that was a lie. San was everything you needed him to be and more: attentive, gentle, sweet, kind, caring — the list was truly endless. 

The days spent cocooned together — San on sick leave to recover from the accident and you having the next two days off from work — made up for the thirty-something years you hadn’t been in each other’s lives. In just forty-eight hours, you created a bond that most lifelong best friends would envy. He shared embarrassing stories from his and Haneul’s childhood days — sweet memories of how his mother dressed him in Haneul’s hand-me-downs, despite her closet mainly consisting of flower dresses and cute skirts. In return, you told him about that one time you accidentally locked your parents out on the balcony and then hurled your breakfast back out from the anxiety and fear of never seeing them again. If only little you could have understood the wonders of spare keys and that your grandmother was already on her way to solve the issue. 

The first night was spent staying up late, talking about heartfelt stories and niche interests to the point where you both passed out and didn’t wake up until late afternoon the next day. Who knew your hunk of a fireman liked collecting sweet plushies and was adamant on learning how to crochet?

That wasn’t everything though. A week into your freshly established relationship and San hadn’t missed to stop by your workplace once to give you lunch, coffee, midnight snacks or a quick peck on the cheek. It was easy in the beginning when San didn’t return to work for an entire week. The soulmate bond proved that he wasn’t in need of resting as much as his company thought and he eventually had to return earlier than expected. It was weird to be glued to each other for hours on end to then not be able to see each other because of your hectic schedules that never seemed to align. When you’d return home from a long night shift, he was dressed and ready to leave. 

You voiced your worries to Haneul during a lunch break, saying how you were afraid of moving too fast, but now that you barely got to spend time together, it felt like you were moving at a snail’s pace. She mildly reassured you that it craved more than some social distance for your soulmate bond to break and that it would take some time for you to find your footing in the relationship.

However, working multiple shifts a week while running on little to no sleep left you too exhausted to plan an outing whenever an opportunity for the two of you to spend time together appeared. Date-night looked different in the Choi-and-Jeong books. Instead of glamming up and booking a reservation at a fancy restaurant, you decided to stay in and watch a movie that would sooner or later be forgotten as you’d be too enamoured with each other. Haneul walked in on one too many make-out sessions, and thus, you came to the decision to host movie nights strictly at San’s apartment.

Like many times before, you lay atop San, his legs parted, giving you the option to cage his left one between yours. One of his arms was bent and propped behind his head to act as a cushion, while the other was curled around you, his hand pressing against the small of your back in a comforting embrace. Your cheek was mushed against his chest and your hand limply rested on his bicep. A movie played on the big screen and a plethora of snacks were strewn out on the coffee table but left untouched. You joked about how, ever since San entered your life, your sugar cravings had dramatically decreased because he was bringing too much sweetness into it.

“Honey?” San broke the comfortable silence and spoke over the characters on the TV. You hummed in reply and he continued. “I want to ask you something.”

As you shifted to get a better look at him, he pulled you in a tight embrace and you immediately stopped moving. “Don't look at me, just… listen? Please?”

“Okay, Sannie, what is it?”

“How do you feel about… moving in… with me? Or me with you!” You could hear the blush attacking his cheeks and embarrassment clinging onto his voice as it grew higher in the end and the words came out in a rush.

Joy tugged at your lips and you couldn’t stop the light hearted chuckle from slipping out in the room. You broke out of his gentle hold and grabbed his hand in yours, and planted a chaste kiss on it.

“I think I’d love that.”

Without warning, he squeezed your cheeks between his palms and captured your lips in a tender kiss, leaving your insides warm and mushy. Despite having muscles the size of a watermelon and broad shoulders that could carry the entirety of Noah’s ark, San was a real softie. He had the habit of holding you as if you were the most valuable possession on the earth, a feather which could crumble at contact or a cube of sugar that would melt beneath the rain. The shared kisses were brief but left a tingle on your lips that you couldn't get enough of and nearly whined in retaliation as San withdrew to catch his breath. 

“I adore you, like really, really much,” he confessed and kissed you again, and again, and again. The peppered kisses were planted all over your face — nose, cheeks, mouth, chin, eyes, forehead. The endearing act of love pulled a string of giggles straight out of your tummy, cursing you with an ache that your grandmother would call remedy for the soul.

One moment he was on you and the next, he turned you over to lay against the couch while he  scrambled to his bedroom on the other side of the apartment. You pushed yourself up on your forearms with only your upper body lifted as you curiously watched San runoff as if his rear caught on fire.

“Sannie?” 

“Just a second, honey!” 

Rough shuffling reached the living room, but it was the loud crash of objects clattering on the ground that you almost headed to see the commotion yourself. San’s reassuring voice telling you everything was okay didn’t help you relax, but you trusted his judgement and remained seated. The eager wait was short lived as San returned with something tightly clutched in his right hand and stopped by the end of the couch, back uncomfortably straight and face pinched into a serious expression. Hadn’t you known him for a little shorter than a month, you’d assume he was about to get down on one knee and ask you to live the rest of your life by his side. 

San cleared his throat and extended his arm low enough for you to see his well manicured fingernails. You shuffled over closer to the end of the sofa and sat up on your knees. His fingers unfolded and exposed the trinket laying in the center of his palm. An apartment key. The spare key to his apartment to be precise.

“I know we haven’t known each other for that long, but I’ve never been sure of anything more than this and I really want to take this next step with you.”

“Are you asking me to marry you or move in with you?”

Red dusted his cheeks and he had to look away. Your own lips curved up as his eyes creased into crescent moons, a telltale of his dimpled smile making an appearance. San covered his mouth as if it would make his smile disappear. Testing the waters, he asked, “Would you say yes?”

“I guess you’ll have to find out.” 

San was sure he could pass out right then and there. His cheeks hurt from smiling too much, but it was the only pain he would ever welcome with open arms. You climbed onto the couch and jumped into San's arms and he effortlessly caught you, his hands finding their designated place on your hips and thighs while your arms slid around his neck like a koala. Your fronts were pressed against each other, but you continued pulling him toward you, as if the chance of becoming one entity was higher than inventing flying cars. San dipped you down princess-style and stole a long kiss, one that you were more than eager to reciprocate. Your fingers tangled in his black hair, nails soothingly scratching his scalp, and your heart swelled with so much love and happiness it felt like it could explode and fill the living room with colorful confetti.

It was a shame the human needed air every few minutes because all you wanted to do in that moment was feel him everywhere. Breaking apart, you rested your forehead against his, hot breaths fanning across each other’s lower faces, chests rising with fervor as your bodies desperately tried to reclaim the lost oxygen."

“I’d say yes a hundred times over,” you breathed out, “but let’s save that for after we meet the in-laws.”

“My parents have already scheduled a day for when we can go to Namhae,” he eagerly replied to which you hastily leaned back, nearly sending you both tumbling over.

“San! I swear you’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably in love with you.”

Lips swollen, eyes welling with joy and hearts beating erratically, the world paused as you looked at each other. The diploma neatly placed on your desk and the knowledge you had collected over the years seemed insignificant when the love you harbored for San could regrow burned forests, mend broken bridges and heal even the most shattered of hearts.

Living with San was nothing out of the ordinary, except that you saw each other more now that you lived under the same roof. Considering your shared apartment with Haneul was bigger than San’s, it only made sense for the Choi siblings to switch places. That way you kept your room and San took Haneul’s. You quickly realized you could’ve just moved into San’s apartment instead as neither ever went to sleep alone. More often than not, San would crawl into your bed, claiming it was cozier than his, but you knew even the ground would be a great sleeping place as long as you were in his arms. That was precisely what you wanted — to be in San’s arms. Instead you were working another night shift, the most hectic one since the fire incident a couple of weeks ago. 

A young man, no older than twenty, had been in a motorcycle crash, leaving him with severe pain and swelling in his right leg, which was pushed into an unnatural position. The skin was entirely torn off, exposing blood and muscle tissue. You had a suspicion about how severe the situation was, but it still called for an X-ray examination. As expected, the results confirmed multiple fractures of the femur and tibia, requiring surgery the next day at the latest. Changmin, as his driver’s license indicated, was in immense pain and even struggled with breathing difficulties into the night. This left you and your co-workers with no choice but to monitor him closely throughout the remainder of your shift. To say it was tiring would be an understatement. Your feet were so sore it felt like walking on a rug of medical needles and your back ached, begging you to lie in bed and not get up until the birds returned from Southeast Asia.

The only thing pushing you through the long day was the fact that you knew San was waiting on you at home. It didn’t matter if he was awake or not. Your tense muscles relaxed by the thought of burying your face in his chest and forget the world until your batteries were restored again. It became a routine for the both of you. When one had a more physically draining day at work, the other was ready to pamper them and make them feel completely taken care of. 

After a few failed attempts to insert the key into the door, you finally managed to unlock it. A stream of blue light illuminated the otherwise dark apartment and was accompanied by muffled voices coming from the living room. You haphazardly threw your shoes off, not bothering to neatly place them next to one of San’s hundred pairs of sneakers, and instinctively followed the animated sounds that belonged in a cartoon. 

The scene you were met with nearly brought you to tears. San was seated in the middle of the sofa, a fuzzy blanket thrown over his head and shoulders, with two mugs of hot cocoa steaming on the table in front of him. The bag slung over your shoulder slipped off and fell to the floor with a gentle thud. Your jacket — a gift from San’s closet — was at least two sizes too big, making you look like a bear ready to hibernate. The colorful scarf you had been wearing since your teenage years reached up to your nose. San whipped his head in your direction and his stoic expression softened into one of understanding at the sight of fresh tears coating your waterline. His lips curled into a small, reassuring smile that spoke more of compassion than words ever could. 

He quickly lifted one side of the blanket and beckoned you over with a gentle command. “C’mere honey.”

That was the last straw for your tears to start rolling. You wasted no time shedding your outer layers of clothing and curling into San’s side. A sob that you had been holding in throughout the entire car ride home vibrated against his chest. San ran his hand up and down your back while whispered praises tickled your ear. He planted a kiss on your crown and pulled you over him as he fell back against the couch. You adjusted yourself more comfortably, both legs falling on either side of his hips so as not to fall, and he swiftly maneuvered the blanket to shield you from the chilly atmosphere. The minutes ticked by and you had no perception of how long you stayed in that position, but your sobs eventually subdued to soft sniffling. 

“How did you know?”  You whispered, a tremble hanging onto your vocal chords, and sat up. 

San’s hands travelled to rest on your waist, thumbs rubbing circular motions into your flesh. “I just… felt you.”

“Felt me?”

He hummed, “I still do. Happiness, sadness, fear, anger — everything, right here.” His hand hovered over your heart and you understood. You really did. 

There was no scientific explanation for the emotional connection that kept you in tune with each other’s feelings. The unexpected pressure weighing down on your lungs at even the slightest discomfort or worry he experienced, like when he stumbled upon a video of a duckling being separated from its mother. It was uncanny how your heart soared hours before he came home with good news about a promotion, or the unexplainable sense of pride you had been carrying all day — only to discover it was coming from San, who had helped a kitten down from a tree. You’d never forget the day the bitter taste of dandelion greens spread across your tongue, only to find San lying in bed, caving under the weight of his blue emotions. The best part of the connection, though, would be the buckets of love pouring into your bucket as he hugged, kissed and worshipped you. However, there was one emotion you hadn’t received any signs of.

Your fingers found purchase on the hem of his shirt that rode up his stomach and revealed a sliver of the toned skin beneath. “I don’t feel… your anger.”

San flashed you a blinding smile and spurts of daffodils curved around your heart. “That’s because nothing makes me angry, love.”

“Really? Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

A beat passed and you sighed, “I’m always angry.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re angry, just… frustrated.”

“It’s practically the same thing,” you argued and continued fiddling with his shirt. He captured your hands in his and halted your anxious picking.

“It isn’t, not by definition. We feel frustrated when we are unable to progress, while anger is the response to something we perceive as wrong or harmful… You’re not angry, my love, you’re frustrated and probably overworked too.”

Your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you mulled over his words. It made sense, and you didn’t need to voice the comfort it brought you; he felt it. The unruly waves quieted to a steady push-and-pull, letting you breathe as the knot of emotions slowly untangled to nothing.

“You know, I’m supposed to be the older one out of the two of us.”

A hearty laugh filled the previously gloomy room, immediately illuminating the four cold walls, and San caught your waist again as he shifted, the echoes of his laughter filling the space.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. It'd be my honor to make you feel like a teenage girl again.”

That he did. It was almost embarrassing how his sweet gestures had you leaping face first into your pillows and rapidly firing your feet against the comforter. One would believe you were closer to being fifteen than thirty, and while you had a mild crisis, you were still grateful San brought that youthfulness out of you again. 

“Was it a rough day?”

The sentimental moment burst like a fragile soap bubble at the slightest of touches. You took a breath of air and San slid his hand further up your wrists, placing his thumbs in the center of your palms while the remainder of his fingers wrapped around the back of your hand. It was grounding and kept you from re-visiting the gut wrenching thoughts that plagued your mind while tending to the young patient.

“A young guy was rushed to the ER… He got into a motorcycle accident and flew maybe a good ten meters from the crash place, and totally fucked up his leg. It was by sheer luck he didn’t suffer head injuries, let alone injuries to the rest of his body.” 

You still saw the image of his bloodied body and torn clothes, a sight that would leave you with nightmares for days.

“He was in really critical condition, San. We couldn’t leave him alone for even one second. I’m talking about twenty four-hour care… He’s going into surgery tomorrow. He’ll survive, but it’s just... He reminded me of you. How you’re literally in danger every time you go to work and– and how easily I could lose– lose– lose–”

The words caught in your throat as your voice grew higher in pitch. San gave your hands another squeeze and pulled you back down onto him. You wasted no time burying your face in his neck and his arms automatically wrapped around you — one finding purchase at the back of your head while the other securely encircled your back.

“I don’t want to lose you, San.”

“You won’t lose me, love.”

“You don’t know that!”

“What I know is that I always do my best to come back to you in one piece. To my home, no?” The hand that had been placed against your head wrapped around the back of your neck and gently massaged it.

Like a flower opening up to catch the first few sun rays of the day, you put your heart out and allowed San a glimpse of what was inside. 

“It just scared me,” you said between shuddering breaths. “Anything could happen, San, and I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you–”

“Honey.” His voice wasn’t stern, but it held a certain finality to it. As gentle as a newborn kitten, he carefully eased you back, pulling you away from where your face had been pressed against his neck. With a soft motion, he tilted your head slightly, getting a better look at your face.“Thinking of the what ifs isn’t good for anyone.”

You wanted to reply with an ‘I know’, but you knew better than to lie to him. 

He wiped a stray tear off your cheek and you nuzzled against his palm. “Look, I love that you think you need me, but it’s not true. We managed more than fine on our own and just because we’ve found each other doesn’t mean we can’t function alone anymore… I love that you feel comfortable enough to lean on me, darling, but at the end of the day, you’re strong because of who you are and not because I’m here.

“And if, but just if, anything were to happen to me, I need you to know that you aren’t alone. You’d still have Haneul there. My parents. Your parents. Nurse Kim and Nurse Hwang too. That’s eight more people than me.”

Your hand enveloped his cradling your cheek. “I don’t want to think of a life without you in it.”

“Good because you’re stuck with me forever and ever and ever and ever!”

A wet giggle sounded through the living room and San’s rough chuckle blended perfectly with your sweet hiccups. Overwhelmed by the affection filling your humble abode, successfully warming every corner of the apartment, you intertwined your fingers behind San’s neck and determinedly pulled him into a heart-searing kiss. Your mouths molded together in a perfect fit, much like the famous art piece by Auguste Rodin. The sculpture representing a pair of lovers destined to remain together forever, until parted by death.

San breathed life into you with simple gestures that could restore chivalry. His eyes finding yours in a crowded room, silently checking up on you as you were both tugged in opposite directions by your mutual friends. Walking the empty streets after a successful date night, the gentle brush of his fingers skimming over yours before slipping between the gaps and pulling your hand into the pocket of his coat with the excuse of keeping you warm. Slothing his front to your back in the solitude of your home as you’d be too busy for a long cuddle session on the couch. Not to mention the kisses spread throughout the day—morning, noon, and night. He’d see you off with a peck and welcome you with the same sentiment, wishing you a good night or day before taking off.

The memories you collected during your still-new relationship pushed you forward, giving you hope and belief that you were going to get through this. San’s promise of never leaving — intentionally or unintentionally — comforted you and the dreadful thoughts hadn't returned, and hopefully, they wouldn’t ever. But if they ever did reoccur, you knew San would be there to chase them away.

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY 2025. All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating my work is not allowed.

[samanthaa-leanne]

Echoes of You Akaashi x Reader Soulmate AU

Akaashi POV:

Akaashi Keiji had always known you were out there.

He had felt you before he even understood what it meant—flashes of joy bubbling in his chest when he sat alone in the library, a quiet pang of sadness while he laughed at one of Bokuto’s antics. It wasn’t constant, but it was always present, like a faint melody humming beneath the surface of his mind.

He learned to live with it, to accept the mystery of another’s emotions threading through his own.

But it wasn’t until he was sixteen that he heard you.

It happened one evening while he was sprawled on his bed, flipping lazily through a book. At first, it was barely noticeable—a whisper of sound at the edges of his thoughts. A soft hum of piano keys drifted through his mind, and his fingers froze on the page. He wasn’t playing music. His phone was silent.

The notes sharpened, growing clearer. Then came voices—distant, blurred, impossible to make out.

His pulse spiked.

It wasn’t his.

It was yours.

His soulmate.

He sat up, squeezing his eyes shut, straining to listen. The music was gentle, familiar in a way he couldn’t explain. The voices murmured, just out of reach. He held his breath, trying to hold onto the moment, but the connection was weak.

And then—silence.

The sensation faded, leaving behind an aching emptiness.

That night, he barely slept.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Over the years, Akaashi learned the rules of your bond.

The emotions were constant, a quiet presence woven into his being. But sound—actual sound—was elusive. It came in fleeting moments, distorted, like a radio signal struggling through static. When he focused, he sometimes caught traces of your world—music, laughter, the distant rhythm of rain against glass.

But words?

Never.

No matter how hard he tried, your voice was always muffled, like a dream slipping away upon waking.

It was maddening. He longed to hear you, even once. To speak to you.

And then, one night, everything changed.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Akaashi sat on the train, the city lights streaking past in gold and blue. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it, resting his head against the cool glass of the window.

A familiar warmth stirred in his chest—you were calm. Maybe content.

Then, music.

Not distant, not hazy.

Clear. Loud.

The strumming of a guitar, the steady rhythm of a song he recognized.

He sat up, breath catching.

This was different.

Every note, every beat filled his mind, crisp and perfect, as if he were wearing headphones.

His fingers tightened on his knee. If the connection was this strong, then—

A voice.

Not muffled. Not distant.

“—not even listening, are you?”

His heart lurched.

It was you.

Your voice was soft, tinged with exasperation, but the words barely mattered. All that mattered was that he could hear you.

He pressed his fingertips to his temple, desperate for more. “Say something else,” he whispered as if you could hear him.

Silence.

Then, a quiet sigh. “I give up.”

The music stopped.

Akaashi’s chest ached from how hard his heart was pounding.

He had heard you.

For the first time in his life, he had heard you.

And he needed to hear you again.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Volleyball was one of the only things that truly grounded Akaashi. The rhythm of the game, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished gym floor, the solid thud of the ball against his palm—it was familiar, predictable.

But ever since hearing your voice, the connection had been stronger. Louder.

It started small. Faint music in his head when he was warming up. The distant sound of laughter that didn’t belong to anyone in the gym. It was distracting at first, but he learned to tune it out.

Until one afternoon, in the middle of practice, he felt you.

The moment the ball left his fingertips in a perfect set, a surge of exhilaration rushed through him—not his own. It was yours.

His hands trembled as he watched Bokuto spike the ball cleanly across the net.

Akaashi barely had time to process it before something even stranger happened.

A voice. Your voice.

"That was amazing."

His breath caught. He whipped his head around as if expecting to see you standing there in the gym.

He almost missed Bokuto’s loud, "Akaashi! That was perfect! You feeling good today or what?"

Akaashi blinked rapidly, nodding, though his mind was elsewhere.

You had spoken to him.

Not just a fleeting sentence like before. This was real. This was directed at him.

His heart pounded as he squeezed the ball in his hands.

You were out there. You were watching.

And somehow, for the first time, you were with him.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

After that night, the connection grew stronger.

Maybe something had shifted. Maybe you were getting closer. He didn’t know.

But the static was fading.

Some days, he could hear the songs you played as if he were right there beside you. Other times, fragments of conversation drifted in—never enough to understand, but enough to know you were real.

He started speaking to you, even if you couldn’t hear him.

Soft words in the stillness of his room.

“I wonder where you are.”

“Do you feel this, too?”

“I hope you’re happy today.”

He didn’t know if his words ever reached you. But he liked to believe they did.

Then, one evening, he got his answer.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

It was raining.

Akaashi sat by his window, watching droplets race down the glass, listening to the quiet hum of your world in the back of his mind. A slow melody played—melancholic, aching.

And then—pain.

Not physical. Deeper. Heavier.

A wave of sorrow crashed into him so suddenly that he sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers clenching around his blanket. It was suffocating, pressing against his ribs like an unseen weight.

You were hurting.

A song drifted through his mind, full of longing and loss—the kind of song played when the world felt too heavy to bear.

Akaashi swallowed hard. “Hey,” he whispered, unsure if you could hear him. “What’s wrong?”

The sadness only deepened.

He could picture you—curled up somewhere, staring into the dark, drowning in thoughts you couldn’t escape. He didn’t know what had happened, but he felt it.

And it killed him that he couldn’t do anything.

“I’m here,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to the glass. “You’re not alone.”

The song played on, its lyrics bleeding through his mind like ink on paper. He let it wash over him, hoping—praying—that you could feel him there, the way he felt you.

Minutes passed.

Then, slowly, the sorrow ebbed.

Not completely, but enough.

Akaashi exhaled, closing his eyes. “It’s a nice song,” he murmured, offering whatever comfort he could. “What’s it called?”

And then—

“It’s my favorite,” you answered.

Akaashi froze.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

“You—”

“You can hear me?”

Silence.

Then, a quiet laugh. “Finally.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------

And then, he met you.

It wasn’t planned. He had imagined it a thousand times, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of it.

He wasn’t even paying attention when he bumped into someone—a soft collision, an absentminded apology forming on his lips.

Then, his breath caught.

The world around him dimmed.

Because suddenly, the connection wasn’t just in his mind.

It was in front of him.

Wide eyes met his, filled with the same startled realization tightening his chest. The bond between you thrummed like a struck chord, stronger than it had ever been before.

“You,” you whispered, and he knew.

It was you.

Your voice, the one he had memorized. Your presence, the one he had felt his entire life.

For a moment, neither of you moved, as if the universe had narrowed down to just this. Just you.

Then, you smiled—small, uncertain, but real.

And Akaashi, for the first time, let himself believe.

You were here.

You were real.

He had finally found you and he was never going to let you go.

[ladykailitha]

You're a Dream to Me Part 6

So here we are at the turn. It's all running up to their meeting now.

Thank you to everyone who has liked, commented, and reblogged this fic. You guys are the best.

This one stars us off with our boys getting hot and heavy, so do not engage if under 18. Steve rolls with it but Eddie starts to catastrophize when he realizes his and Steve's lives not mesh well.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

~

Steve found himself for the first time in his apartment and not anything related to Eddie. He knew now that the universe had been trying to tell him it was Eddie through the places they visited in his dreams, but he just never recognized them before.

They are on Steve’s sofa and he reached over to pull Eddie to his side. Eddie came willingly and their lips crashed together.

Steve allowed Eddie to take over the kiss and melted into it. And as such as it was in dreams they went from dressed to undressed in the blink of an eye.

Steve moaned into Eddie’s mouth as Eddie pressed down, aligning their bodies together. Every nerve in his body lit up like fucking Christmas. He had had sex plenty of times with both genders but this was put all the other times to shame.

Their bodies moved as one as Eddie seemed to instinctively know all the things that drove Steve wild. Every press of his lips, every touch of his fingers sent Steve farther and farther out of his mind.

“Oh baby,” Steve murmured. “You feel so good. Don’t stop.”

“I couldn’t if I wanted to, sweetheart,” Eddie said softly. “You’re my addiction, my one affliction. I would give you the moon if it was sale.”

“I would put you above others without fail...” Steve finished the song lyrics with a tender smile.

Eddie giggled. “I would have never taken you for a metal fan, Stevie.” He kissed him deeply. “I love it.”

Steve reached between them and began stroking their cocks together in his fist. “Of course I listen to your band, rockstar. It’s a part of you.”

Eddie’s fluttered shut and let out a moan into Steve’s willing mouth. His hands and mouth danced along Steve’s skin as they were both brought to completion within moments of each other.

Their combined cum painted their chests and cooled their heated skin. Steve got his hands into those curls and pulled Eddie down for another kiss and then another. The cum became sticky between them, but they just couldn’t let go of the other. Not after all this time.

Steve woke up slowly from his soulmate dream for the first time since he started getting them clearly. He yawned and stretched. His whole body felt warm and sated like he had actually had sex. He took a peak at his crotch and was relieved to see that at least he hadn’t creamed his pants in the night.

He picked up his phone and was surprised to see that it was a little after ten in the morning. He had the day off but he usually didn’t sleep late. That old habit of waking up early to do sports transferred neatly over to waking up early to open the store.

He didn’t even have plans for today. He had no errands to run or people to see. Dustin wasn’t even home as he had gone to Indy for a much needed day away from this small town. He liked visiting, but there really wasn’t much to do that he hadn’t done a thousand times before.

Steve rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling. The concert in Indy was tomorrow and he could feel his skin vibrate with it. He knew that he would have more luck at the Hideout, making eye contact with Eddie. But a small part of him hoped that Eddie would still find him a large crowd.

He thought briefly about rubbing one off, but the dream still clung to his skin and he felt like he had already had a release and certainly wouldn’t be ready for another any time soon.

He got up and got into the shower instead and once he was done he decided the best use of free day was to plan his outfit for tomorrow. After all he didn’t want to piss off a bunch of metalheads, but at the same time, he wanted to stand out so Eddie could see him.

He went through his drawers, his closet, and the chest of clothes that he kept for Halloween and costume parties, but he couldn’t find anything that worked. He knew he didn’t look it, but he loved all things spooky. He just didn’t show it on the outside very much.

He pulled out a few items that maybe if put together it might resemble something like an outfit. Black was definitely a must. Denim, too. Throw in a flannel or some leather and he’d have something. But he didn’t have either.

But what he did have was two lesbians. One of which was the master of the thrift. So if they didn’t have what he needed, Robin would know where to go to get it. He pulled out his phone and dialed the shop.

“Coming of Page,” Robin greeted, “How can I help you today?”

“Hey, Rob,” Steve said brightly. “You up for some of your famous thrifting when you get off work?”

There was silence for a moment as no doubt she put the pieces together. “Oh hell yeah.”

~

Eddie woke up gently that morning and for the first time he understood what had changed. Now that he knew he was having soulmate dreams the universe had stopped being an overly dramatic bitch and waking him up harshly when he didn’t get the memo.

But now that he was fully on board with the dreams and having Steve Harrington as his soulmate, it let him rouse naturally. He looked over at the clock on the nightstand and smiled. He knew he only had a few minutes before his alarm went off, but as it was just a travel day and not a performance day he had plenty of time to get ready to go.

He practically skipped out of the elevator and to the restaurant for breakfast. Jeff shared an eye roll with Gareth.

“Were we ever that sappy when we got our first confirmation dream?” Jeff groused, stabbing at his omelet.

Chrissy snorted. “God. I think we were worse.”

“I know I was that besotted,” Brian said around a bite of his eggs. “Still am if I’m honest. Meeting your soulmate on tour is a bitch and I don’t envy Eddie in the slightest. Because at least I didn’t have any preconceived notions about mine.”

Eddie blinked at Brian for a moment before it registered what he meant. He snorted and then giggled. Pretty soon he was laughing out right. It took him a bit to catch his breath, but by then they were all staring at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Sorry, sorry,” Eddie said wiping away the tears. “I had a crush on Steve for several reasons, but the main one is that he is absolutely that bitch.”

Gareth frowned and looked around but no else got it either. “What does that have to do with preconceived notions and shit?”

“I don’t have any,” Eddie said firmly. “We barely interacted in high school and yeah, he was bitch no doubt. But no one should be judged on who they were in the character creation phase. Like he was vaguely homophobic and now he’s running a queer bookstore with Robin Buckley, who was like never in the closet because everyone assumed she was gay as the day was long? I’m pretty sure the dude changed from then.”

Jeff rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And it’s not like he ran with the bullies his whole high school career either. Like he very famously dumped his asshole friends before Christmas his junior year. And even then he still commanded respect.”

“Like I didn’t go to high school with you guys,” Chrissy said with a shrug. “But let me tell you only the biggest assholes peak in high school. I mean look at me. I was head cheerleader with the perfect white bred boyfriend. Everyone thought I would be a stay at home mom to Jason’s 2.5 kids, but even those that didn’t would have never would guessed that I went on to manage one of the biggest metal bands in history.”

Eddie waved his hand at her. “See? Seriously, I’m ready to get know him all over again. He’s still hot. He’s still sweet. And I’m willing to bet that he’s still that bitch, too. I’m not worried about him disappointing me. He could never. I’m fucking excited.”

Jeff raised his orange glass. “I’ll drink to that. To Eddie’s soulmate. Steve Harrington!”

“Steve Harrington!” everyone cheered and clanked their glasses together.

Eddie ordered and quietly ate his food as his family chatted happily around him. He hadn’t lied that he wasn’t nervous about Steve disappointing him. He was worried about him disappointing Steve. Because the more dreams Eddie realized were soul dreams the clearer it became that Steve had been waiting for a long time for him to get his head out of his ass.

Steve had a life in Hawkins and Eddie’s life was traveling the world. There was no way that he would give up his store to go on the road with him, but on the flip side, Eddie had tried to get out of Hawkins and have it never darken his future the way it had shadowed his past. There was no way he would settle in Hawkins.

There had always been a pull, connecting him back to the town that hated him because he was different. He had assumed that it was Wayne. The man that raised him and gave him that push to pursue his dreams and get out of this hellscape.

Jeff tilted his head as he watched his best friend go from happy go lucky to morose. A small, fragile smile shuttered into place. He pulled out his phone and sent a cigarette emoji. When Eddie looked up, Jeff jutted his head toward the door and Eddie dutifully followed.

About half way through the first cigarette he said, “I could smell the wheels burning from across the table. What’s got you so bent out of shape?”

Eddie took a long drag and blew it out slowly. “We live such different lives. Like even with Sophie, Brian’s new soulmate, she can tag along if she wanted and the only reason Chrissy isn’t with Georgia right now is because she was an idiot and forgot to ask her girlfriend when she was touring too. But his got a shop and life in Hawkins. The one fucking place I said I would only visit for Wayne’s sake.” He hung his head between his shoulders and shook it. “I can’t go back there. I can’t.”

Jeff flicked the ash off his cigarette and pressed his nail into the filter as he thought about that. “It’s a tough no doubt. But if the universe thinks you’ll be perfect together, you’ve got to let it do its magic and it’ll sort itself out. It always does.”

Eddie let out a slow breath and then another. He took a drag of his cigarette and blew out that breath too.

“Trust the universe isn’t gonna fuck me over?” he said bitterly. “It’s hard, man. Because I can’t help but feel a little let down by the universe when I think about my life general.”

Jeff cocked his head the side and then shook it. “Man, what the fuck are you talking about? What part of being in the biggest metal band in the world is bullshit?”

Eddie stared at him for a moment. “I fought hard for that. I had a criminal dad and my mom died when I was young. I lived a trailer park and took three tries to graduate. Like what part of that isn’t shitty?”

“You were raised by your uncle who made you believe you could make it big,” Jeff said, listing off things on his fingers. “You had a mom who instilled the love for music in you. And your drug dealing days were what helped keep the power on so you could make it out. Sounds to me like the universe was creating a perfect storm for you to make it out on top. And now trust it to know what it’s doing with Steve being your soulmate. Because maybe he’s getting tired of slaving away at a shop in town not known for their broad views.”

Eddie thought about that for moment. He looked up at Jeff, eyes tearing up a little. “Yeah.” He let out a shuddering breath. “Yeah, okay.”

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @themoonagainstmers @eyehartart @tartarusknight @chaotic-waffle @dotdot-wierdlife

10- @stedestielfrattficlover @steddieislife @riotrose8 @bunnybens-blog @watermelonmite

[wardenparker]

The Unbearable Weight of Perfection, ch 5

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When an accident of fate throws Javi G into the path of his soulmate, his instinct is to dive in head first. Adjusting to life as the fated partner of someone you barely know is going to be harder than either of you suspect, but anything worth having is worth working for. Isn't it?

(This story is heavily inspired by the lovely house museums that I work in every day and the fantastic few months that HBO was using our houses to film a TV show in fall! I spent each day on that set in wonder and I can't wait to share the experience with all of you through this story.)

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 11.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, references to abusive family members -- i.e. Lucas, discussion of money/finances.* Financial disparity, a well intentioned surprise, fluff, friends, flirting with your spouse. Summary: Javi solves a problem with a grandiose surprise, and you're not sure how you feel about it at first. Notes: After a brief hiatus we are back! My laptop has been replaced and we should be smooth sailing from here. Happy Sunday, my lovelies!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4

Thursday, May 1, 2025 

"Mrs. G, can we get you on set please?" The production assistant that works with Javi to make sure he has everything he needs and is wherever he needs to be has also been assigned to you in the month since work on the film started. Luckily Kyle is a nice kid and enthusiastic, and doesn't mind that he reliably has to knock loudly to make sure he doesn't walk in on the newlyweds in some sort of state of passion. 

"Sure, honey."

Javi has been on set for a little while already so you pocket your phone and hop up from your chair to head inside. The schedule for today has them shooting in just one room, but it's the main character's bedroom and the scene is the first of the clandestine love affair that is being shot. It makes sense that Tamara and Jason might have historical context questions. 

The halls of the great house are lined with rolls of cardboard – RAM board, they call it – to protect the precious antique wood and easily scratch floors. Whole pieces of the architecture like columns are wrapped up in it to shoulder height, and while the look of it was odd and off putting at first, it's familiar now. Like Hazelwood House has been wrapped up in a sort of temporary blanket to keep it safe. 

Up to the second floor and into the south wing of the house, you find Javi sitting with the two actors on an armchair and chaise lounge by the fireplace, staring at the footed panel in front of it. It still jars you to see the cast lounging on exact replicas of Hazelwood's furniture, but it's only because the museum rules (No touching!) have combined with a slight jealousy in your head. The furniture in this house really is fantastic.

“Sweetheart.” As soon as you come into the room, Javi is lighting up, his eyes widen with sparkling happiness as he quickly stands. Moving towards you to meet you halfway in the room, although he refrains from kissing you since he had been told you might not like it at work. “Hey handsome.” Even murmured softly into the air between you as Javi wraps his arms around you for a quick hug, you feel a little more relaxed just being in the same place as him. “You called and I came. How can I help?”

“We have a question about the fireplace.” Even if he doesn’t kiss you, his fingers caress your wrist lovingly as he turns you towards the object in question. “What is this and why is it here?” He asks, pointing to a wood and fabric screen that could not be utilized while there is a fire crackling in the hearth. While Hazelwood has been extremely accommodating, there was to be no real fires in the hearths due to some of the chimneys being blocked off and the risk of an out of control fire being too great. All of the fires would be added by CGI in post production but Javi had noticed the screens still in front of the hearth and needed to know if they would risk it during a fire or if it would be moved and what purpose it served.

"That is a fire screen." The warm radiance of him standing next to you is a fire unto itself and it's a pity you're on set instead of in your shared trailer so you can't melt into him.

"Like...for embers?" Jason asks, brow furrowed. "But it's wood." 

"And cloth!" Tamara objects. 

"I know." You manage to stifle a laugh, but you had the same thought the first time you saw them. "It's technically the predecessor to today's metal fire screens. In function, it's the same. But the main focus here was in keeping direct flame off of people's faces." Shrugging slightly at how silly it might sound to a modern person is the best you can do. "Being flush from the fire or getting any kind of color was looked down on. The paler your complexion, the more obvious it is that you don't have to work or exert yourself in any way."

“So warming the room but not over exposing them to the flames.” Javi frowns slightly. “So they would have the fire going and having the screen in front of it?” He asks, tilting his head towards you for the answer. “We want to make sure we get the shot right.”

"If you want the shot without the screen in place, there could be a throwaway remark about Tamara being flush?" You suggest, chewing your lip as you tilt your head up at him.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Javi looks between the principal cast and then over at the director. “Do you?”

"Screen will be better without live flames." The director hums after a minute of thinking. "Won't have to work as hard on manufacturing the look of the fire. We'll keep the screen."

Javi smiles as he looks back at you. “Thank you for your expertise.” He hums, reaching for your hand to kiss the back of it.

"Do you mind if I stay to watch?" The filming process is slow but fascinating to you, and these people – with the small exceptions of the egotistical producers and snobbish director – are very fun to spend time with. It's much more fun to be here on set even with the slow progress, than it is to be in your trailer.

Javi is immediately nodding. “Yes.” He agrees, knowing that no one will argue with him. He’s had carte blanche on set, especially after making some re-writes that everyone swears will clench the Oscars in multiple categories.

"Yes I can stay?" You melt into a soft smile and wish that the aforementioned snobby director weren't in the room so you could kiss him. "Thank you. I'd much rather be here."

He smiles and squeezes your hand. “You can be wherever I am.” He promises, not caring if the director would rather you not be on set. He’s a little stiff and Javi can tell he doesn’t exactly approve of your soulmate status for whatever reason, but he doesn’t care.

"Come sit!" Tamara pats the chaise lounge beside her immediately. Since everything that happened on that first day, she's been an eager and bubbly friend. "We might need you for something else."

Javi smirks as he lets go of your hand so you can sit down next to your friend. “Did you run your errand like you needed?” He asks you, knowing you had been wanting to take care of something.

"I did." Though it wasn't exactly fun or easy. "The bus was running a little late but I managed to get everything done and sent off my sister's birthday present." You may not be close, but she's still your sister.

“You did not take the car?” Javi frowns immediately at you, sure that he had given you his keys before rushing off to the set this morning.

"I'm okay with the bus while my car is in the shop," you promise him. "And the car from the studio always brings you home, so there was no need to worry about that." Having a driver is a very helpful convenience, especially for Javi who likes to use the drive to prepare for the work day. Since your car has been in the shop for three days now, you've just been going to and from the studio with him, but this morning you needed to get to the post office. He had handed you the keys to his luxury sports car like it was nothing, but the mere thought of anything happening to the expensive automobile had you using a bus pass instead.

He’s not happy with your answer, and Tamara and Jason both grin as they watch the interaction between you. “Honey, what’s wrong with your car?” She huffs, hoping to distract.

"So far?" You let out a huff of a laugh. The director has gone to get a cup of coffee so you have a little time to breathe. "The engine. Just...in general."

Javi opens his mouth and then closes it. Deciding that he will take care of things and pulls out his phone.

Seeing your husband duck behind his phone with a look of concentration isn't unusual, so you pay it no mind and keep chatting lightly with Tamara. The cast had invited you and Javi to join them for drinks after shooting on Friday night and you're excited to go.

Javi doesn’t look up from his phone until the director comes back. “Clear the set.” He calls out and Javi pops up out of his chair. “Let’s go watch from the sidelines.”

There are a half dozen chairs set up in the hall behind the camera monitors for watching, and one of them bears Javi’s name. You hop up into the one beside him to hold his hand during the rehearsal of the scene before it gets filmed. “Everything okay, love?” You ask, not wanting to pry about whatever he was doing on his phone but still checking in.

“Perfect.” Javi tells you, looking over at you with a giddy smile. “Just taking care of something.”

“Something exciting?” You guess, but leave it at that.

“I think so, but it might be a little boring.” He admits with a chuckle. “We will see tomorrow.”

“Nothing you do is ever boring.” Surprising, frequently, and often lovely. But never boring.

“You would be surprised.” He grins proudly, squeezing your hand and the lifting it to kiss the back of it right as the director yells “Action!”

The scene is full of tension, but it has to be done angle by angle so the many takes come one after another in slow succession. Nothing seems to be done quickly in the movie industry, that's been obvious to you since day one.

He sees you shift in your chair and he leans over. “It can be so boring at times.” He murmurs in your ear. “I asked Nick how he doesn’t scream sometimes with so many takes.”

"I think it's fascinating," you admit, whispering back to make sure you don't disturb anything. "Watching how one gesture or a change of inflection can transform the whole scene? It's stunning."

He chuckles and hums softly, loving how you are enjoying yourself as you watch them reset the scene again. “Sometimes art takes time to perfect.” He admits. “First takes are like rough drafts.”

“Like the muslin before a gown.” In the days that you had dreamed of designing clothes, those rough muslin forms had been such loving work on the floor of your bedroom at home.

He tilts his head and tries to understand what you are meaning. “Muslin? The fabric that they used for undergarments?”

You nod, somehow managing to keep the giggle out of your voice so it won’t carry. “I was taught to design clothing by making a muslin form first. Like a rough draft. To make sure the design works before cutting into the expensive fabric and whatnot.”

“You make clothes?” That’s a new fun fact he didn’t know about you and he lights up as he memorizes it. “So that is why you have been the in costume trailer a lot?”

“I used to.” The light in your eyes dims ever so slightly, but you keep smiling. He doesn’t know all the ways that your art was taken from you. Piece by piece.

“Why did you stop?” He frowns, sensing the way there is a shift in your mood. It’s slight, but your hand stiffens in his.

“My parents,” you tell him, honestly despite it being harsh. “My step-dad convinced my mom that art school was pointless. So they refused to pay for it. I ended up studying history instead.” Which has worked out for you, obviously, and you do love it. But if you had been able to study fashion the way you wanted? Maybe you would be a textiles conservator or a costumer for a living history museum by now. Who knows?

“That is not right.” Javi immediately defends you. “You should have been able to study whatever you wished.” He feels passionately about that, since he was also shoehorned into a role he didn’t not want in his own family.

"Well, I agree, but there's nothing we can do about it now." The best you can do is shrug, having put the dream aside a long time ago. Maybe one of these days you'll look into getting a second-hand or lower end sewing machine. Make yourself a few things, or even make them as gifts. Javi would probably jump so far into the idea that he'd suggest one of the rooms in your now-oft-dreamt-about future house be a sewing room. He's very sweet like that. Maybe you'll ask for your birthday, but that's in the future.

He is about to suggest that you go back to school, but he doesn’t want to make it seem like he’s hoping you quit your job. Selfishly, he likes having you right here every day. “Maybe one day you can show me what you’ve designed?”

"Maybe..." You nudge his shoulder slightly, cheeks warm from the compliment of his interest. "I'll dig out my old sketchbooks tonight? If you really want to see."

“Yes.” Javi immediately answers, grinning when you giggle slightly. “I want to see all of them. Do you have them at the cottage or do we need to go back to your apartment?” The move has been day by day, you deciding what you want to do with your furniture but your most pressing items already in the cottage alongside his own.

"We should stop at the cottage on the way home, if that's okay?" As usual, the studio's driver will be taking you, but he never seems to mind making a small detour before leaving Santa Barbara. The ride back down the coast to the house – or cottage, as Javi calls it – is always a nice way to relax together after a work day.

“Absolutely.” He nods and smiles. “What do you want to do for dinner?”

"Maybe I can cook tonight?" He often likes to go out or have something delivered, and that's lovely. But tonight you like the idea of having a domestic night at home with your husband. After all, it's not like you lack for groceries. Or anything.

“Do you need anything?” He immediately wonders which is the closest store to the cottage, or if you would prefer one near your old apartment.

"We have a full kitchen, love." You promise him with a kiss to his cheek. "I already know what I'm going to make."

“I thought that was all the charcuterie items you wanted for the dinner with Nick and Olivia?” He had been warned away from the fridge drawers, making him pout as he searched for late night snacks.

"There is more than just snacks, my love." He had simply bypassed the steaks, brussels sprouts, potatoes, and assorted other ingredients in the kitchen because he isn't very interested in cooking just in general. That's perfectly fine, of course, but it means warning him off the things he can snack on without cooking them if you've bought them for a particular reason.

“Oh.” He rolls his eyes at himself and nods. “Only if you want to cook.” He hums. “You might be tired after work.”

In truth, it amounts to wanting to do something sweet for him because he does so much for you. Javi gives and gives and takes pride in it, but even with the generous pay from the studio your income doesn't come close to his. 

Do you share bank accounts now? Of course. He had a credit card opened on his account in your name. But so far you've only used it for groceries or household necessities. Anything else feels...greedy. 

"I won't be, mi amor," you promise him, setting those thoughts aside and resolving to make a nice dinner for you and your soulmate.

“We should build one of those kitchen outdoors.” He mentions causally, as if he’s talking about a simple weekend project. “Since you like to cook. I’ve seen some amazing ones. We could have it next to the pool.” The pool is currently being dug next to the cottage. In front of it actually. Wanting you to swim whenever you want, it’s now become a priority.

"We could definitely do that." In between takes now, you no longer have to whisper. At least for a short time. And that means you lean a little more into Javi's side and breathe a happy sigh. "It would be great for parties."

“Good!” He has expected you to huff about the idea, since it would be expensive and you seem to be determined to not spend his money. “Why don’t we talk to the architect?”

"We have a meeting next week. Why don't we add it to the things we want to talk to her about?" The quiet reason you're not immediately downplaying this idea is that you can immediately imagine having pool parties for your future children out there, with the patio bustling and a little outdoor kitchen right at hand. It makes you feel so dreamy that you just can't say no.

“Perfect.” Now that the director as given them the slight changes he wants to the scene, he moves back behind the camera and calls for silence on the set again.

There is nothing but utter silence in the hallway during the actual take. You cuddle into Javi's side and just watch the monitor. Having him close even without talking is a special kind of intimacy and one that you're starting to find that you love. The atmosphere of the set can be so tense at times that these little moments of intimacy feel stolen.

The wheels in Javi’s brain are starting to spin and he hums to himself as an idea for another script jumps to life. Even as he watches his latest being brought to the screen in front of him.

It’s a beautifully done scene, one full of yearning and those first pangs of something new that make your heart ache for the characters. Javi’s script is sensational on its own but Tamara and Jason are so good together that you almost feel like you’re intruding on their privacy just by watching the monitor. Which is absolutely as it should be.

Javi plays with your rings while he watches the scene. Knowing it by heart, he’s seen it in his head for so long, it’s almost boring to see it now. Thinking about that new idea as he grins to himself.When “Cut!” is called again, you nudge his jaw with your nose flash him a grin. “It’s a beautiful script, love.”

"Huh?" He is started out of his musings and he glances at you in confusion. "Oh, uh, thank you." He realizes what you are talking about and he grins. "Sorry, I was thinking about something else."

“Is everything okay?” He hasn’t mentioned being out of sorts or unwell or anything, but you still ask. Javi is, as they say, a dreamer. He might be far off in an imaginary land right now just as easily as he might be worrying about something.

“Everything is good.” He smiles again so you don’t worry. “I have an idea for a new script.”

“Really?” Your eyes light up in surprise. “A new idea already?”

“Umm hmm.” Your surprised delight makes him so much more appreciative of the support you’ve already shown him. “I need to jot some rough ideas for the timeline down.”

"I already can't wait." And you can't believe that he could come up with new ideas that fast, either. It seems like scripts should be so much harder to put together than just a single spark of an idea.

“Good.” He nods. “I will probably be asking you a million questions.”

"Oh?" That surprises you again, but as the director makes adjustments and gets ready to do another take, you sort of revel in the absurdity of the whole thing. You're living beyond your wildest dreams, after all. "And why will you be asking me questions, of all people?"

He smiles at you like the answer should be obvious and you are so sweet for not figuring it out. “Because it will be about you.” He hums and winks before looking back at the monitor as the scene is called to action.

You're still staring at him in abject confusion a full three minutes later when the director calls 'Cut!" again, and despite probably looking like a mad woman you don't feel any saner or closer to an answer. Which is why you end up blurting out "Why?" The second you're able to talk again.

Javi turns towards you again, wondering if you are upset at the idea of being his muse. For so long, anyone who learned of his desire to write movies would always beg to be his muse, sometimes even using seduction to try to sway him. You and Nick seem to be the only people that seemed uncomfortable by the idea, Nick because he wasn’t sure if it would work. “Art school.” He explains. “The impossible choice between honoring your parent’s wishes and following your heart.”

"Then I hope your character decides to do more with it than darn socks and mend thrifted clothes." There is worry on his face that you wish you could reach out and smooth away. Like a swipe of your thumb might lifts all of the clouds of concern right out of his mind. "I'm honored that you think I'm worth being inspired by, sweetheart."He bites his lip, trying to search your eyes to see if you are just being polite. “You should do more than darn socks or mend thrifted clothes.” He murmurs. “You should do what you want.”

"Maybe." He is disarmingly sweet. He has been since the day you met him, and a month of marriage has not dulled it in any way. "I was thinking of asking for a used sewing machine for my birthday this year. Since...I never really have anyone to ask but I hoped you might wonder what to get me?"

"A sewing machine." He is immediately committing that to memory and nodding. "You have me to ask now." He promises, deciding that he will throw you one hell of a birthday party for this year.

"And you have me." For whatever the hell that's worth. Things seem both awash with prospects and simultaneously in the middle of a weird sort of limbo right now. At least for you.

Javi's phone buzzes and he jumps slightly, not expecting it. Chuckling at himself as he pulls it out of his pocket, his eyes light up as he sees the number on the screen. "Oh! It's here!" Bolting out of the chair to take the call.

“It?” You jump out of your skin right along with him, clambering down from your chair to follow.

"Hello?" He is off to the races as he answers the phone. "Yes! Hi! Are you outside?" He asks, hearing you following him, but it's a given that you need to be here as well. "Yes? Already? And the bow?" He is giddy and practically skips a step. "Thank you! I am on the way."

“Javi, where are you going?” He’s headed straight down the hallway toward the main entrance of the house and you barely make it to the door behind him. Down a half dozen stairs and out to the port-cochere, there are plenty of cars and trailers parked out in the front of Hazelwood House but the gate has opened to let two more in.

Two cars. One of which has a giant bow on the roof.

Javi’s eyes light up and he thinks it’s perfect. Your favorite color just happened to be available in the same model as his own car and only a few cities over on another car lot. They had managed to ship the car here today and he spins around to you. “Surprise!”

"Oh my god..." You can barely huff out the words, watching a metallic blue version of Javi's beloved Porsche convertible be driven onto the grounds of the museum. You should feel awed. You should be such immense gratitude. And you do, really you do. But the twist of discomfort in your stomach is so sharp that it almost makes you nauseous. "You bought me a car?" Why? And why does that make you almost want to cry instead of being excited?

The wide grin on his face falters slightly when you don’t immediately start jumping up and down while screaming in excitement. “You– uh, didn’t want to drive my car.” He explains. “So I thought that you should just have your own. You would drive that, right?” He asks.

"I don't like driving your car because I'm terrified of something happening while I'm in it..." He looks absolutely crestfallen but you really don't know what to do right now. He went completely over your head to solve a problem and landed on an answer that makes you uncomfortable without meaning to.

“Something happening?” He rushes back over to you and grabs your waist gently. “Sweetheart, it’s a car. A tool.” He insists. “If something happened, I would only care that you are safe.” His brows lift. “And the car has a fantastic safety rating.” He adds, as is that will bolster his argument.

"I can't imagine you not caring if your million-dollar car was in an accident." Okay, you have no idea how much the car actually costs. But it's a Porsche convertible. It has to be a lot. And expensive things -- or at least things that were expensive to you -- have been a stress point for your entire life. "It's very sweet of you, baby. But when I needed to take my car to the shop, the solution didn't need to be buying me a new car."

“The car wasn’t that expensive.” He protests and the delivery driver of the car gets out of the driver’s seat and starts walking towards you and Javi. “Your car was...tired.” He reminds you.

"Say what you mean." You shrug. "My car is a piece of shit. But it was a piece of shit that I worked hard to afford and was proud of because it was proof of all that work."

His shoulders slump, feeling horrible for making you feel like your efforts didn’t matter. “I’m - I’m sorry.” He murmurs softly. “I just wanted my wife in a safe, reliable car instead of riding a bus. And I-“ he shakes his head. “I’ll have the car returned.”

"Amor," you tip his chin back up with two fingers to look at you, hating the way he looks when he pouts. It breaks your heart to upset him at all but this was a very big surprise. “Is it already paid for?”

His eyes slide to the right guiltily. “Sí.” He sighs. “But I think they will buy it back.” For loss, of course. They would take at least twenty grand off just because they had taken it off the lot to be delivered. The last thing you want is for him to think you're mad. He did something deeply overboard but he did it out of love and a want to be helpful. So you put your own arms around his waist in turn, and the expression on your face turns into something like a lopsided smile of exasperation. He is so terribly sweet, your excited puppy of a soulmate. He really is. "If it's already paid for, then I'll find out how much the shop will pay me for the parts from my junker. Can I just ask you one thing, mi amor?”

He bites his lip, feeling the rebuke coming but at least you aren’t yelling. “Anything.”

“The next time we have a big decision to make, can we make it together?” You squeeze his waist gently and lean up to kiss his cheek, trying to make sure he understands you’re not mad — just exceedingly confused. “We’re partners, aren’t we?”

“Yes, yes we are.” Guilt floods him and he has the decency to look sheepish. “I- I got caught up and I wanted you to have-“ he lets go of your hip with one hand to gesture to the car. “I thought it was a sign they had one in your favorite color.”

"It's very beautiful." When he had found out your favorite color was blue you thought for sure he was going to theme every little thing in your lives to shade of that color, but so far it's been limited to him buying a whole new bedding set in shimmery blue for your bed. You had loved that surprise, so you can see how he had thought right away that you would love this, too. "I'm not upset, Javi. I'm just really surprised. When you said you were going to spoil me when we got married, I didn't think it would be big things, too."

“Why would it not be with big things?” He asks, concerned that you could think that he would leave you to hand big things on your own.

"I–I don't know." Suddenly you're the one feeling guilty, and frowning deeply because the answer occurs to your out of nowhere, almost like you're being punched in the gut. "Probably...because...I've always had to do the big things for myself."

He hates the way your face looks so lost, so uncertain. Javi leans in and kisses you softly. “Now you have me to do the big things…with.” He stresses the last word, reassuring you that he heard your request.

“Come on, you.” The weight of a handful of unexpected revelations is still heavy on your shoulders, but the world seems a lot more manageable when Javi is smiling and you’d prefer to keep it that way. “Show me the car.”

Now that he’s halfway sure you will accept the car, he’s grabbing your hand and dragging you over to the deliver driver to get the keys and thank him profusely. “It is just like mine.” He promises. “Although your car has the cooled seats!”

The car dealer deposits the keys in Javi’s hand when he walks you over, smiling and chatty as car salesmen at wont to be. At some point the directive that this car is for you must have been given because the salesman’s attention moves firmly to explaining all of the special features of the complex car to you.

Your car is the same year model, although there are a few more bells and whistles on yours. The grey and black leather seats look amazing and it’s obvious that the dealer has just removed all the protective plastic before delivering it. It has that deeply satisfying new car smell, although that will soon disappear if you drive with the top down. “Your husband asked for the same model he has, with a few upgrades.” The salesman explains to you, as though he hasn’t just explained the entire car tip-to-tail. “Including the manual transmission. Of course, Mrs. Gutierrez, if you prefer—”

“Before you insinuate that I won’t be able to drive the car my husband has gifted to me, be assured that my ability to drive a manual sports car is not in question.”

Javi looks smugly proud of that fact and he nods. “Absolutely.”Accordingly, Javi drops the key into your hand and presses a kiss to your cheek. You thank the salesman for the delivery, realizing belatedly that the thing that going to make you keep this car is fifty percent Javi's sweet gesture and fifty percent spite for this salesman who thinks you can't handle it.

The salesman leaves in the other car, climbing in the passenger seat and Javi grins. “Want to take it for a test drive?” He asks excitedly."Don't we have to go back to work?" Javi's excitement is always the sweetest height of any moment, but there are still responsibilities to take into account. "How about I drive us home tonight instead of taking the studio car?"

He pouts for a moment and then nods. “That makes more sense.” He agrees, even though he wants to take a ride with you now. “Maybe we can drive around the coast and find a new restaurant to try?”

"That sounds perfect." You won't say so because you know Javi's idea of a new place to try is always fancy, but Alex had told you about a new burger place on the Pacific Coast Highway. Just a shack on the beach. It sounds like something Javi will love if he even ever tried it -- but those aren't the places that he thinks to try.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” He asks, glancing at the car and then back at you.

"It's a gift from my soulmate." You wrap one hand around his arm and tuck the keys into your pocket carefully with the other. "Even if it was unexpected, it's still lovely."

“Okay.” He relaxes into your body and smiles. “I was hoping you would like it. They are very reliable cars.”

"I know you love your car." He does, and you had really just chalked it up to him being a sports car guy, but Javi's obsession with safety is one more thing that is very sweet about him. He really cares about the people closest to him. You glance back at the car, which was neatly parked on the edge of the other staff vehicles, and then back at him. "It will take a little getting used to, for me. But I love that you want to take care of me."

“You’re my soulmate.” He huffs. “Of course I want to take care of you.” He promises. “I want to give you the world.”

“I’m still getting used to that,” you admit, leaning on his arm a little out of a dear and sort of desperate wish to be close to him as you head back down the hall to whatever scene work is being done right now. “And I love you, too.”******

Alex wasn’t on the primary set today, but he was working with the secondary camera crew and the assistant director to shoot some of the exterior scenes, so he had seen the delivery of the car from a distance.

“New car! Who got a new car?” He demands, knocking on the trailer door and throwing it open a second later to charge inside like an over eager puppy. He’s a total gear head and loves cars.

"Mrs. G." Jason reports, lounging across the sofa in their shared trailer with a book open and resting on his chest. He'd barely closed his eyes for a nap when Alex came rumbling in. "You go see it yet?"“No! I have to get out of this costume.” He is pulling off the elaborate jacket and starts to unbutton the crisp white shirt.

“Go easy!” Jason reminds him, sitting up on the sofa and shoving a bookmark into the spine of the book without mercy. “Heather will kill you if you rip anything.”

“Dude, the horsepower of the car.” He grins. “Maybe she’ll let me test drive it.”

"You might have a better chance at that if you hadn't crushed the cover of her notebook the other day just by holding it weird." Jason chuckles. He pulls himself to standing with a grunt and moves to grab his water bottle off the nearby shelf.

“I didn’t mean to!!!!!” He insists, whining and pouting at the mention of that incident. He really hasn’t meant to.

“I know, man.” Jason can’t stop cackling now, even as he pats his co-star on the back. “I know. But it’s never not gonna be funny.”

In his excitement and exuberance, Alex can be a little…destructive. He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Then I’m never gonna drive that car.” He groans.

"Maybe she'll take you for a ride," Jason offers instead. Alex is just pulling on a t-shirt when he motions back toward the trailer door with a wave of one hand. "I mean she basically adopted you as the brother she never wanted right?" He snorts when Alex swats at him defensively and the two guys tumble out of their trailer and into the spring sunlight. "Just ask, man."

“Maybe.” He is rushing towards Javi’s trailer, still amused that the writer has his own space. Although it makes sense, in a way. Changes are quick, printed out right on site.

You groan at the impatient knocking on the trailer door, having to pause what you're doing with one hand working open Javi's pants and the other tangled in his curls. "One second!" You call back, pouting about being interrupted.

“Hurry up!” Alex chirps happily, practically wringing his hands together. Eager to see the car up close. “Stop kissing your soulmate!”

"Shut up!" Is the retort that comes back through the door, and after a minute or two of shuffling you pull the door open to find both leading men on your steps. "Yes, gentlemen?"

Jason chuckles, finding both you and Javi behind you looking flustered. Having some inkling it was much more than just kissing. “Saw the new car.” He explains. “Alex is about to crawl out of his skin to see it.”

"Alex, someday when I meet your soulmate, I'm going to ask them if they are a dog person right off the bat," you chuckle with thinly veiled amusement at the way the Hollywood star is practically wagging his tail to see the new vehicle. "Alright," you were already reaching for the key out of sight, and now you dangle it in front of his face teasingly. "Let's go check her out. She needs a name anyway. Might as well make it a group project."

“Oh god!” His eyes light up and he tries to snatch the keys out of your hand, but you pull them back. “Don’t name her something stupid.”

“What would be a stupid name for a car?” You ask him, entirely amused by his clearly very strong feelings on the subject.

“Bertha.” He chuckles. “I know Eleanor is popular because of Gone in Sixty Seconds…” he glances at Javi. “But don’t name her that.”

"Bertha is a character on my favorite tv show." You shake your head at the suggestion even as you loop your arm around Javi's waist to walk together. "I usually let a car tell me what their name is. You know – get in and the first song that plays on the first drive is where you get the name from. That sort of thing."

“Ohhhhhh that’s a good way to do it!” Alex plugs up and he’s turning around and walking backwards as he quizzes you. “Favorite genre of music?”

"It sounds so basic to say rock, but it's true." There is also a healthy interest into any kind of music that tells a story, but in general? It's rock. "90s alt rock, grunge, punk...but I'll try anything that comes on a good recommendation."

“Janie.” Alex grins widely, eyes alight with glee. “The car’s name is gonna be Janie.”

"How can you possibly guess that?" Jason huffs, crossing his arms like it's his car that has been named and not yours.

“Janie’s got a guuuun.” Alex croons off key on purpose as he continues to bound backwards like an excited puppy. “Most dealers set the XM radio to the 80s or 90s station, depending on the price tag of the car. Javi’s car is easily ninety k, and Aerosmith released the song in 1989 but it topped charts in 1990, so they play it on both the 80s and 90s stations.”

"We'll see." Never mind that the 80s and 90s stations are usually what you listen to, you ask the universe for one single second to make it anything else so that Alex will be wrong. You love the guy – he's funny and a great friend – but he doesn't need his head getting about bigger.

He doesn’t take offense, chuckling happily as he spins around and he whistles just as soon as the sparkling new car comes into the view, bow still sitting on the hood. “Ohhhh she is puuuuuuuuuurdy.” He drawls out with an exaggerated Texas accent.

"I have to admit," you give Javi's side a gentle squeeze. "The color is perfect."

“Good.” He beams. “It was this or a car that looked like pink or purple color.”

"I mean," you laugh, watching Javi's face morph at his obvious distaste for that choice. "I do like pink and purple. But blue is my favorite. And the gray interior is gorgeous." Stepping up to the car, you smooth a tentative hand down one side and bite your lip. Is this really your car? Did he really do this? But you click the unlock button on the fob in your hand and sure enough, the door unlocks instantly. Yep. He really did it.

Even as Alex drools over the car, Javi is watching you. Eager to see your reaction now that the reality of it being yours is starting to sink in.

It is the same as his car, after all. You've been in his car dozens of times now. But opening the driver's side send a ping of nerves through you just as much as it does anticipation. After all, the car was a gift. And it is much safer than your old one. Just because you scraped and saved for that shitbox did not make it a good car by any means.

You slide into the driver's seat and actually sigh with how comfortable it is.

“Heated and cooled seats.” Javi reminds you and Alex starts cracking up. “You got the coochie coolers, hellllllll yeah mama!” He slaps Javi on the back. “Just what she needs in the California summer.”

"Please never call them that again," you snort, shaking your head at Alex before you lean back in the front seat and look up at the three men that you now spend as much time with as anyone else in the world. "Okay. We ready for this?"

"Hell yeah." Jason pumps one fist in the air. "Do it!" 

"Here we go..." Turning over the ignition is akin to a cat purring out its very best first impression, and when the screen blinks to life the station that is listed is, in fact, 90s Alt Rock. Javi leans in to ear the song, eager to learn what is playing. The unique sound of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers comes through the speakers in studio quality sound.

"Last dance with Mary Jane, one more time to kill the pain  I feel summer creepin' in and I'm tired of this town again"

Jason smirks, Javi’s head tilts curiously, and you just start to laugh as Alex crows with victory.

“Alright, fine,” you can’t stop shaking your head and laughing as Mary Jane’s Last Dance pours through the speakers. “I guess the car’s name is Janey.” It’s better than Mary Jane, after all, and the radio determined the winner anyway.

“Janey?” Javi asks, wondering if you are joking since you had wanted to thwart Alex.

“Those are the rules.” When you shrug you’re still laughing. Mostly because the chance of that happening was way too small to ignore. “I don’t particularly want to name her Mary Jane, but Janey is cute.”

“It could always be MJ.” Jason pipes up with a grin tossed Alex’s way.

“But then it sounds like you’re naming your car after Michael Jackson.” Alex points out, as if that proves that he wins.

“Or MJ from Spider-Man.” Jason counters with a shrug. “Short for Mary Jane.”

“I always liked Gwen Stacy.” You counter, just to watch the unabashed, rather gobsmacked way both Alex and Jason start to sputter in protest. “I’m kidding guys, oh my god. Calm down. MJ is good. I like MJ.”

Javi chuckles and pats the cloth hood of the car. “MJ.” He hums. “Why don’t you let her hair down, Sweetheart?”

Placing a kiss on his cheek, you slide into the car and shut the door. Turning over the ignition feels like you're sitting on an engine-powered cloud. Just like Javi's car, the buttery leather cradles you and you really can't deny the comfort. You tell yourself it's practical. Your husband – your soulmate can afford to buy you a new car when your old one is dying, and he got you something safe and stylish without you ever having to ask. Most partners would be thrilled. 

So why not embrace it? 

The second your foot presses the gas, you suddenly have no trouble with the idea of this car being your reality.

Javi watches as you squeal out of your parking spot, grinning wildly as Alex shouts encouragement in excitement.

Almost the second you pull out, the wind seems to change. The world morphs around you a little. And yeah, you like driving. You always have. But this? This feels like flying, and the only thing you’re missing is Javi beside you.

“Well damn, she left you behind.” Jason snorts, slapping Javi on the back, but your husband just chuckles. “She’ll be back. She’s just getting a feel for her baby.”

“It’s a hell of a gift.” Jason observes, arms crossed, as he watches you turn a wide circle on the other end of the parking lot.

“She’s worth it.” Javi promises with an indulgent smile. “First time I’ve ever felt truly loved.” The realization had been astounding. You accepted him, flaws and all and even put up with him now when you were exasperated by him buying you a car without your input. There is never a moment where you make him feel like he’s not enough.

Jason and Alex, for alternate reasons, sigh with longing and mumble agreements. Jason has been developing a sizable crush since beginning work on this film and hasn’t said a goddamn word to anyone — while Alex has been having a quiet personal crisis about the possibility of never being able to find his soulmate. He envies people like Javi and Dieter Bravo. People who work through their fears and end up happy and in love. He just doesn’t know if that will ever happen to him.

The car comes roaring back towards the three men and Javi chuckles when the other two step back cautiously but he knows you will stop. The braking system on the car is amazing, and he fully trusts you. “How does she feel?”

At some point during your test drive you brought the top down, and you’re grinning at him unapologetically from the front seat of the convertible. “The only thing that would make it more perfect is having you in the front seat with me.”

“Are you ready to leave?” He asks, shooting you a matching grin and lifting his brows. “Alex might cry if you don’t take him for a spin.”

“Don’t we have more work to do?” If you’ve both been dismissed from set that is news to you, but you wouldn’t be opposed to a drive.

“We are done for the day.” Alex is bouncing on his toes and edging closer to the car. Eager to get into the passenger seat if he can’t get behind the wheel. “Secondary too.”

Looking up to Javi, you flash a gleaming grin and shrug your shoulders. “Do you guys want to go for a drive? Head out to the beach and maybe get dinner?”

“You- uh, don’t mind?” Jason looks surprised and at the same time, a little relieved that you just aren’t dragging Javi away.

“Why would I mind? We’re friends, aren’t we?” It’s a little heartbreaking the way Jason always seems surprised to be included in things, but that’s like half the reason you’re damned and determined to always make sure he knows he’s invited. “If everybody is done, maybe we can catch the girls and we can all go together?”

Javi chuckles. “We won’t all fit in this car, but why don’t we go to the house and pick up my car?” He grins at Alex and Jason. “You two can take turns driving mine.” He offers with a waggle of his brows.

Before you can say another word, the boys are agreeing and sprinting off to their trailers for their stuff so fast that they leave behind a dust cloud.

“Well,” you laugh, shaking your head as they go. “We should go tell the girls. You just gave those two the biggest excitement of the week.”

“We’ll have to get them to the house, but then we can let them ride in my car.” He offers as he leans against the driver’s door and offers you a smirk. “You look sexy behind the wheel. Knew you would.”

“Yeah?” He’s practically beaming at you, and you can’t help but feel a little giddy about it in turn. “What else do you think about me being sexy doing?”

He bites his lip, his expression sliding into something a little more…carnal. “When you walk around the cottage in those little outfits. When you wash your make up off every night and you lean over the sink to make sure you got all your eyeliner.” He grunts slightly, obviously infatuated. “Painting your toenails.”

A little giggle wells in your chest and you smirk at him in turn. “So…any time you get a good view of my ass or get to look down my shirt?”

His eyes dip down your shirt and linger for a moment before he looks back into your eyes. “Guilty.” He admits with a chuckle.

“That’s totally fine,” you promise him, grin spreading a little wider. “I can’t wait for the pool to be ready so I can check out your whole drawer of speedos in action.”

“I have a favorite pair.” He admits shamelessly.

"Oh yeah?" As much as you hate to, you climb out of the parked car temporarily so you and Javi can go inside and hunt down the rest of your friends. "Which one?"

“They are black and white striped.” He tells you. “I think they make my small butt look bigger.”

Barely stopping yourself before you snort, you lean into Javi's side and pat his 'small butt' lovingly. "I think your ass is perfect, amor. Don't worry about that."

“You like it?” He perks up slightly, surprised that you would even care about his mild body issues.

"Do I like my husband's ass?" Even pretending to think about it only lasts a minute, and you slide your hand into his back pocket to give him a little squeeze. Sure, Javi doesn't have the biggest or perkiest butt in the world – but it's lean and tight just like the rest of him. "No. No, I take that back. I don't like it. I love it."

He chuckles, a little self conscious and a little proud of his butt that you like so much. “Yours is much better.” He promises, his own hand sliding down to your lower back and he grins but continues down to squeeze your ass.

"I guess it's a very good thing we like each other's assets so much," you joke, giggling at your own bad pun.

Javi laughs at the corny joke, nodding happily. “Go find your friend, sweetheart.” He urges you. “I’ll find Tamara.”

Moira is, as always, easy to find. At the reception desk inside the front door of the house, she is sitting with her novel of the week and her enormous pink Stanley full of iced water. The little cherry cover has been flicked off the top and she's chewing the tip of her straw between her teeth as she reads something particularly exciting.

"Can I interrupt?" Sometimes being interrupted in the middle of reading something exciting is the worst and you don't want to do that to her.

She’s immediately marking her spot and closing the book, looking at you expectantly. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Hollywood?” She teases with a grin.

“Hush.” But you just roll your eyes, grinning with that effervescent sunny aura that life with Javi had given you. “I was going to ask if you wanted to come hang out tonight.” You waggle your eyebrows teasingly. “Jason is coming.”

Eyes widening as her heart starts to race, there isn’t the possibility of playing it cool. Her crush on the actor is nearly overwhelming and to her horror, she can barely form sentences around him. So often she is asked why she’s so quiet. “Oh god.” She moans. “I’m gonna embarrass myself.”

“You’re not!” Plopping yourself down on the stool beside her behind the desk for a moment of work wife support, you squeeze your best friend close to your side and shake her a little as if you’re trying to shake her nerves out. “He’s a sweetheart and an absolute goofball. And I totally caught him checking you out at lunch today.”

“Oh b.s.” she huffs, waving her hand at you even if she perks up slightly and rolls her shoulders back. “He was not.”

“He was.” You nudge her, knowing you’ve already gotten her that much cheerier. “And I have it on good gossiping authority that he’s got a crush on somebody in the production.”

“The key word there is production.” She points out, sighing softly. You don’t tease her about her impossible crush, but she’s almost embarrassed by how much she likes him. She feels akin to a stalker, flustering every time she runs into him and yet she’s ’accidentally’ run into him more than once.

“You count as being in the production, babe.” The reminder is soft, but still nudging. “You don’t have to come tonight, but I wish you would. We’re just going to drive out to the beach and have burgers and hang out. Nothing fancy.”

“Just hanging out?” Since you’ve been married, the out of work time spent together has gone down, but that is to be expected and she doesn’t begrudge you that. Still, it’s nice to have the opportunity to spend time with you if nothing else. “Why not?” She shrugs and grins. “You know how much I love burgers.”

“I know you do.” And if you manage to get her in the backseat of your new car with her celebrity crush at any given point, the night will be twice as successful. “It’ll be fun, I promise. Grab your stuff and we’ll sign you out. They’ve called shooting for the day.”

“They have?” Her brows wing up and she’s jumping out of her chair to start gathering her things. Without guests, her days are boring at times and today was one of those days. She hadn’t even had confused guests arrive not knowing the house was closed for filming. “That’s early.”

“Yeah, but I can’t say I’m upset about it. Javi said they got the first two scenes this morning in one take each.”

“You weren’t on set?” She smirks and shoots you a coy look. “What were you doing? Recovering?”

“Hush!” Even as you bat her arm in playful shock, you’re near giggling. “No, I had some mail to send and my beloved junker was in the shop."

She groans in disbelief and shakes her head. “What’s wrong with Betsy now?” She demands. “She’s requiring more and more maintenance, you know.”

“I know.” At this, you at least have the decency to look a bit sheepish. Once Moira has her things, you head down to the time clock in the basement together so she can sign out. “And I guess Javi was more concerned about my safety with the old girl than I realized.”

“What do you mean?” She frowns in confusion. “Did he insult your car?”

“No, no! Nothing like that.” Javi could never insult anyone. You know that about him. He’s constitutionally incapable of intentional negativity. “He just mentioned that she breaks down a lot and that he’d feel better if I drove something a bit safer.” You bite your lip and shrug, wondering how she’ll take the news. “He worries.”

“Well, he should worry.” She admits, shrugging slightly. “You broke down on the 405 six months ago.” She reminds you. “Had to wait three hours for a tow truck.”

"I know." Though Javi doesn't know that. If he had, he probably would have done what he did today much sooner. "Which is why I'm hoping you'll be impressed by what he did instead of freaking out a little like I did."

“What did he do?” She is instantly suspicious and dragging you towards the stairs so she can find out.

"He, um..." You clear your throat and very quickly mumble: "Heboughtmeanewcar."

“He what?” She heard you, she just can’t believe what you’ve said. The very idea of someone just buying their spouse a new car isn’t something happens in real life in her experience. “What? What kind? Where? Is it here?”

"It's out front." The ever-so-slight embarrassment on your face is just because you can't believe he did something so extravagant out of a place of kindness and love. Out of worry, for that matter. Just because he cares about you and he can. "It's um...before you see it...just know it's not something I would have picked for myself but I do love it."

“Oh god.” She groans. “Don’t tell me that man got you a fucking minivan.”

"No, no. Quite the opposite." Back up the stairs and out to the front of the house, you put your hand into your pocket and click the remote entry that unlocks your shining, metallic blue Porsche. "Moira, meet MJ."

“Holyshitnofuckingwaaaaaaay!” The squeal makes it out in one breath as she nearly leaps for the car, yanking the door handle open to look inside and verify that your key fob unlocked this car. “Can he buy me one too?” She begs, teasing but obviously slightly jealous as she coos over the car.

"Honestly if you asked, he probably would," you tell her, glad to see that she's excited about this development instead of getting worried that it's overbearing or that Javi is lovebombing you. Neither of which is the case.

“Holy shit.” She huffs. “It smells amazing.”

"New car smell, right? I swear Porsches have their own specific version."

“Because it’s expensive.” She pokes her head out of the car and looks at you over the hood. “Don’t tell me that he just surprised you with it?”

"I don't know if you've noticed, but surprises are kind of his thing." From the front steps of the house, the guys and Tamara appear and you can't help the way you light up at even the smallest sight of your soulmate. “Everybody excited to get outta here?"

“I wonder what he will surprise you with next time?” She chuckles, happy to see that you are so happy. You deserve everything.

“Hopefully nothing as big,” you half-laugh under your breath as the group comes down the front steps toward you.

“Hell yes.” Tamara answers happily. “A burger and a beer or two sounds like the perfect way to unwind tonight.”

When the rest of the group makes it over to the car there are hugs and squeezes all around and Tamara coos over the new convertible lovingly. "Since everybody else was driven," she eyes the boys with amusement. "Why don't we take Mrs. G's gorgeous new baby and my SUV out to Casa Gutierrez and we can go from there?"

“I want to ride in the convertible!” Alex immediately calls it and Jason shoots a glance over at Moira to see if she’s going to call the other tiny backseat.

"Surprising no one." Tamara laughs. "Jay and Moira, wanna ride with me? I think if we try to split up the adoring soulmates, the world might implode."

Everyone laughs and Javi shrugs. “It just might.” He admits. “It is hard enough to be away from her when she is having her nails done with Moria.” However, he knows you need your time with your friends and he would never deny you anything you need.

“Which is a tradition we cherish, and you’re the king of appreciating a nice new manicure anyway, mi amor.” Before him, your weekly manicure sessions with your best friend had been an excuse to spend time together, listening to music and gossiping and painting each other’s nails. Once Javi had heard about this, he had insisted on upgrading it to a weekly lunch and salon date for the two of you.He smirks and winks at you as he thinks about the way your hand looks when you wrap it around his cock. It’s your favorite way to beg him for sex, not that you have to beg, but you love to feel him harden in your hand. “Yes I do.”

“Okay.” Having a feeling that you’re both thinking about the same thing, you snap back into reality just long enough to nudge a slightly panicky looking Moira toward Tamara and Jason. “We’ll meet you guys at the house. See you in a bit!”

Everyone is quickly loaded up into the cars, Alex groaning over the buttery leather interior and grinning like a Cheshire Cat as he leans forward. “Make her fly?” He begs.

He’s like a little kid in the backseat all the way down the Pacific Coast Highway. For the length of the drive it is nothing but good music and chatter in both cars and even when you leave Tamara’s SUV in the driveway of the cottage to take both convertibles out for dinner, the good mood just keeps rolling. By the time the six of you get the little burger shack with its old fashioned jukebox and brightly painted and varnished tables, you’re both starving and in an incredibly good mood.

“Oh my goodness, I love the vibes of this place.” Moira is absolutely enchanted by the relaxed atmosphere and the relaxing classic rock that is pouring out of the speakers of the jukebox. It’s very chill, very surfer-like. Even if the rocky cliffs aren’t the perfect setting for surfboards and catching waves.

“Isn’t it the cutest? And I’ve looked over the menu a million times, everything looks so good.” Your best friend had glued herself to your side the second both cars got here and you’re dying to know why she’s blushing so badly but you won’t pry quite yet. “I’ve been wanting to come here for ages.”

“Why didn’t you say something before now?” Javi asks, almost looking hurt that you kept what you wanted to yourself. “We could have come.”

“I knew we’d get around to it.” You reassure him, and make a mental note that Javi seems a little extra sensitive to making you as happy as humanly possible today, despite — or perhaps because of — the car purchase just hours ago. “And I was right, wasn’t I? We’re here now.”

“Yes we are.” He relaxes at your words and the way you stroke your hand down the small of his back as you lean into him. “We need to try everything you want.”

“That’s either going to be a very big tab or a whole lot of visits, but I like the enthusiasm, mi amor.” The two of you slide up to the rest of the group to find Alex already flirting his way into getting two tables pushed together instead of having to wait. Moira has joined Tamara at the jukebox where they are eagerly picking out songs, and Jason is lingering slightly behind with his eyes trained firmly on the ground in front of him like he’s misbehaved or something.

“What’s wrong with him?” Javi asks you, noticing Jason’s behavior and finding it odd for the actor. He’s not as outgoing as Alex, but he’s normally not sulking like a kid put in time out.

“Not sure yet.” The two of you hang to the back of the group as the beaming hostess leads Alex to his table and all the rest of you only by accident. “But I caught him get starry eyed looking at Moira earlier. Maybe there’s a thread there?”

“You picked up on that?” He lifts a brow and grins as he glances back at your best friend. “I thought I was imagining things.”

“Nope.” Shaking your head lets you smother a giggle as you walk together, and you grin up at your husband. “Clear as day!”

“What does she think about him?” You have to know, as close as the two of you are. But Javi doesn’t push you to tell him everything you and Moira discuss. He respects your friendship enough to know that you might keep secrets from him that she divulges.

“Oh, we are absolutely meddling,” you murmur, right before letting go of his arm to sit down.

“It’s like that, huh?” He snorts in amusement and sits down beside you.

“Like what?” Jason asks brightly. He’s already picked up a menu and is leaning back in his chair, savoring the evening breeze off the Pacific.

“Like a party.” Javi answers, glancing over at Jason. “How was the drive here?”

“Stunning.” Alex grins, leaning forward just as Jason leans back. “I’m gonna have to get one of those for myself, ya know.”

“So you are going to let Jason drive it back?” Javi asks with a grin of his own.

Picking up on Javi's thread quickly, you bury your grin behind your menu and shrug. "Someone would have to keep an eye on him if I did let that happen."

Javi chuckles. “And who better than your best friend?”

"Perfect." Moira might kill you for it later -- if the foot stepping on yours under the table is any indication -- but you'll be damned if you're not going to at least try to help.

“But I wanted to drive her some more.” Alex pouts playfully, even as he hands over the keys to the Porsche.

"Play nice and you'll get another chance," Tamara advises, still grinning when the waiter comes over to take everyone's drink orders.

“Or better yet, buy one.” Jason snorts. “Or maybe not, the way you drive.”

"Hey!" Alex all but pouts. "I'm a good driver!"

Moira snorts and Jason immediately bites his lip, the edges of his ears turning red as he looks at the menu like he’s trying to memorize it.

The ordering of drinks distracts from whatever must surely have happened during the drive out to the coast, and the table is awash with margaritas and beers in no time. Conversation turns to the menu and everyone's plans for the weekend, but your best friend beside you is suspiciously silent.

“Everything okay?” Your innocent question makes her jump, lost in thought until you rip her back to the present. “Oh, uh, y-yeah.” She stammers. “Everything’s great. Fine. Everything’s fine.”

"Liar." Eyeing her, margarita in hand, you lean slightly to your side and have a sip of your drink. "You're a terrible liar."

“What?” She gives you an exaggerated innocent look.

“What happened?” You whisper, waggling your eyebrows at her like you’re sure she has a secret.

“Alex drives like a maniac.” She whispers back after a long moment of silence. Her face is turning scarlet again and she bites her lip. “We weren’t wearing seatbelts and….” She chokes out a groan. “I know that my boob fits perfectly in his hand now, so that’s gonna be the highlight of my fantasies for the next hundred years.”

“What??” Barely able to stifle a snort of laugh by clamping your hand down over your mouth, your eyes bulge looking at her. Thank god you’re capable of keeping your voice down to a hiss. “You’re kidding me!”

“Noooooo.” She groans and flops her face into her hand. “And Jason reacted like I had an infectious disease.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” you promise her, glad that the other four at the table are currently distracted by some other discussion at the moment. “He was probably just embarrassed.”

“Or he’s disgusted he accidentally touched me.” She snorts, hating how rejected she felt when he had pulled backed and refused to look at her even as he apologized.

“I’d call that the least likely option.” After all, you know his eyes were trained on her ass at Craft Services this afternoon. There was no mistaking that. And more than once he’s gotten blushy and excitable talking to her between scenes or at a meal. Moira just never noticed because she was blushy and excitable too. And because she was fairly blind to anyone ever paying her compliments.

“Whatever you say.” She huffs quietly. “You’ve found your perfect prince and he’s literally amazing.”

"And you will, too." Because if it happened for you, there is nothing in the world that is going to stop you until you help your best friend find that happiness, too.

“We will see.” She doesn’t want to bring down the mood at all, so she shoots you a smile. “So you named the car already?”

"First song on the test drive was Mary Jane's Last Dance," you tell her, letting the deliberate subject change wash past you. There's no use harping on it when Jason is sitting a few feet away and Moira will just dig her heels in. "So it was kind of a no brainer."

“Sounds like it.” She laughs and shrugs. “MJ is kind of cute. Some people will think of Spider-Man, some people will think of smoking out.” She laughs. “Some people with think of Michael Jackson.”

“Variety is the spice of life, right?” Your little shrug is playful. Unserious. A small attempt to keep the mood playful for her.

“You should get a vanity plate for her.” She hums, knowing how much you enjoy figuring out what people are trying to say through their plates.

"Can you get them with just two letters on it?" It's a question you've never, ever had to contemplate before and now you can't recall if you've ever seen a short vanity plate before.

“What about MJ and the year?” She suggests.

"That could work." You hold up your glass to her to toast. "Just as long as you go for endless drives with me and keep being my adventure buddy. I can't possibly be Thelma without my Louise."

“Always.” She snorts and picks up her own glass to tap against yours. “I’ll be the scrub in the passenger side of my best friend’s ride.”

You snort, but toast her anyway. "You're dating us with that lyric, babe."

That makes her laugh, even though it’s jarring how much time as passed by since she first discovered her first soulmate mark and hoped to find them soon. “I’ll own it.”

"It's a good ass song." There's no debating that. Just like there's no debating how relaxed you are with your soulmate on one side of you and your best friend on the other. With a whole table full of friends. It's become your new reality almost as quickly as meeting and marrying your soulmate, and there's something about that that clenches your heart tonight. "And I swear I'm not getting teary over a TLC song."

“Yes you are.” Moira snorts. “But that’s okay. Right now, everything in your life is perfect.” She might be a little envious, but she would never begrudge you this happiness. You deserve it and more.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

TUWOP: @inept-the-magnificent @missladym1981 @sunnytuliptime @iamladyp @spishsstuff @famouslyanonymous

[lillyrob]

Actual footage of me patently waiting for my favorite author to upload😫😫😫

[ashleyreyland]

"Sorry," Tim said, causing the man to look at him and, oh, he was really handsome, "I couldn't help but notice your tattoo on your neck…"

"Oh uh, yeah," the man flushed a little and shrugged, "Soulmate thing, you know?"

Tim did know, that was the problem, "Right. Have you met…?"

"Ah, no, not yet," the man said awkwardly, "Listen-"

"Did you have something happen to you four years ago?" Tim cut in and the man went perfectly still, staring at him in surprise.

Tim held out his left hand and the man inhaled sharply, "Oh shit I was hoping that didn't transfer since I died."

"…you what?" Tim asked in response.

"Hey, you're the one with a throat injury, you have no room to judge."

[dasiesanddarkness]

i present to you a story where you see color when you meet you soulmate. but there is an aromantic character. and the aromantic character sees color only after they've learned to love themselves

[keopii]

Thanks for including my work ! uwu

YAY I’ve been waiting for your ask to open again! I need help with a lost fic. It was a Jimin/Namjoon soulmate AU where you know your soulmate by the sound of their voice. Jimin hears Mono and feels drawn to Joon but doesn’t know who he is. I’m pretty sure it was the first chapter(s) of an incomplete multi chapter fic. I REALLY thought it was called “Can’t sleep, homesick” but I can’t find it anywhere 😭 Thank you in advance if you can help!

Hellooo :)

Well, I did find a fic called ‘can’t sleep, homesick’, but it seems the author ‘faerieknj’ has deleted it, i’m sorry! Instead, why don’t I suggest some other Minjoon Soulmate AU’s to tide you over?

Minjoon + Soulmate AU

hate is such a strong word by Becsabillion (One-shot, M, 12K, words that your soulmate may say to you are written somewhere on your body and you only realise that they are your soulmate once they say it, Joon knew from the moment they met that Jimin was his soulmate and Jimin has been waiting to confirm it)

i got your emotions tattooed on my sleeve by superlyns (Growing Up Together AU, One-shot, T, 4.1K, Jimin and Joon grow up together in a world where having soulmates is a possibility but not a certainty)

Only a call away by keopi (One-shot, T, 7.5K, you can telepathically communicate with your soulmate once you turn 18, but you cannot reveal anything about yourself or where you are to help your soulmate find you)

work in progress by Wanweird (ABO AU, One-shot, E, 9.4K, Omega Jimin bumps into his soulmate Alpha Joon, and panicked because of this huge news and his own insecurities he ran away from Joon, hoping he wouldn’t find him)

None of these are quite similar to what you were looking for, but I still hope you like them!

[corameiwrites]

𖦹 i want somebody to want 𖦹

pair: jason todd x gn!reader

plot: When you turn 21, the name of your soulmate appears on your forearm. Not everyone is born with a soulmate, and Jason Todd never thought he would have one. 

wc: 2k

authors note: I remember reading in a fic somewhere about the Wayne Scholarship, and I forgot who/where I read it exactly, so credit to them whoever they are. Also, some characters may seem a little ooc and tbh I don't really care. I had fun writing this which is all that matters, and I hope you have fun reading it!

The place Dick had dragged Jason to wasn’t all that bad, considering it was located in Blüdhaven. Unless it was near the University area, there was always something sinister and more corrupt happening under the alcohol, vomit, and blood-stained floors of Gotham bars. Normally no amount of bribery or guilting could make him voluntarily dress up and go out drinking with his older brother, but today was not normal. 

It was his twenty-first birthday. 

Meaning that by 11:59 tonight, if a name didn’t appear somewhere on one of his arms, he was destined to be alone. Not everyone is born with a soulmate, and realistically, after all the shit he’s been through, Jason Todd never thought he would have one. Despite that, there was some sort of dread slowly filling his body the more he thought about it. Maybe it was that small flame of the little boy he used to be—before Robin and the Bat and the Joker—igniting at the chance of finally having one. It was the same boy who would trace his parents’ names on their wrist, asking them to tell him once more how they met, what they felt seeing the names appear on their skin. Unfortunately, that little boy would be let down yet again by the end of the night. 

His plans had originally been to stay in his main apartment (the one where he stored all his books and indulged in a comfy couch), buy a 6-pack of the cheapest beer and get drunk alone. That was ruined, however, when he received multiple annoying texts from Dick, begging to go out for drinks tonight, specifying multiple times that it would be on him. Jason told himself the only reason he agreed was for the free drinks and to keep himself from checking his forearm every five goddamn seconds (a night out with Richard Grayson was known to be entertaining and unpredictable).

If it was Dicks plan to get Jason blackout drunk, he was doing a pretty good job of it. After agreeing he would be the designated driver, Dick had laid back on the drinks and only taken 3 of the five rounds of shots they had already ordered. Jason was opening up bit by bit, reminiscing on their childhood together. By his fifth shot, smiling seemed to come easier to Jason. 

Currently, they were both watching the flatscreen hung behind the bar showing a news channel covering Batman and Robin putting an end to another bank robbery. 

Dick pointed at the screen. “Damian learned that move from me.” 

“No, I taught him that.” 

“I’m the one who taught you that move when you were younger, big dummy,” Dick teased. 

“Oh, I forgot.” Jason's tone lost its joking edge, and Dick looked over at him. “You know,” he continued almost somberly. “Ever since coming back, I seem to forget a lot of things.” 

His eyes were glued to the screen, watching as Batman jumped out a window in pursuit of the bad guy. Robin shouted after him.

“You’ve been through hell and back, Todd. Normal people wouldn’t have been able to handle it the way you did.” 

“No, you see, that's the thing.” Jason's voice was frustrated, his previous smiles gone. His brows furrowed the longer he ranted. “I’m not normal. I cycle through apartments and bunkers like crazy to help me lay low. I sleep in until 3 pm and I put a helmet on to chase down crazy guys with guns for hours at night. The public knows me as some traumatized kid who somehow survived a terrorist attack.” He pauses to take a gulp of beer, slamming the glass onto the bar, lifting his arm to wipe his mouth. Dick watched his jacket slip down his arm.

“Jason–”

“I don’t have a home, I don’t have a stable routine, I don’t even have life insurance!” Dick had somehow managed to get the former deceased and outlaw brother of his drunk and ranting about life. And the worst part? Nobody was ever going to believe him.

“Jason,” Dick puts a hand on his younger brother's shoulder, gripping him like a vice. His eyes never left his arm. “Your soulmate.”

Both of them are silent for a moment. Jason sighs, shaking his head. 

“Damn, you're good at this.Yeah, it's about the soulmate thing.”

“You fucking idiot,” Dick slaps him on the back of his head. “Look at your arm!” 

Dick watched as Jason stared him in the eyes, his brain clearly trying to catch up with what his brother was insinuating. When he finally looked down, it was comedic the way his eyes bulged at the fresh ink on his left arm. Dick tried his best to keep his excitement at bay, biting back his proud smile. His grumpy, tough, and borderline psychotic little brother had a soulmate. After a couple more seconds of silence, Jason cursed under his breath.

“I’m too sober for this,” Jason mumbled, chugging down the rest of his beer.  

Dick laughs, waving the bartender over and handing him a card to close their tab. Jason slams the empty cup down, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. “I have a soulmate.”

“Yeah man, congratulations!” Dick pats his brother on the back, but recoils at Jason turning abruptly and staring him dead in the eye. 

“I have a soulmate.”

“I…yeah, you do bud.”

“...I have a soulmate.” He repeats, annunciating each word, as if he can’t believe it. “I need to find them,” Jason says, standing and walking towards the exit of the bar. 

“Woah, Jason–” Dick hurriedly stands, apologetically yelling for the bartender and grabbing his card. Rushing outside, he sees Jason recklessly crossing the street to the parking lot. “Slow down!” 

Jason stands awkwardly next to Richard Grayson's blue convertible, clambering over the door and into the passenger seat. Dick watches from across the street, shaking his head with a smile, making his way to the car. He couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed with Jasons drunken behavior. 

Hopping in the driver's seat, Dick puts the keys into the ignition. “Alright loverboy, where are we going?”

“The mansion,” Jason struggles to get his seatbelt on (Dick intervenes). “The Batcave’s computer can find anyone.”

“Huh. That’s actually really smart considering you're drunk.” 

“I’m not. Just shut up and drive.”

Dick laughs, hitting the gas pedal and doing as he was told.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩  ♡  ✩˚｡⋆𖦹｡°⋆✮ 

Bruce was home early, having quickly left the bank robbers tied up as Gordons responsibility. Currently, he was sitting in the library going over a case file. Damian had already gone to bed when he had gotten an alert of a vehicle coming up the manor's driveway. He checked the security cameras in the garage and was shocked to see his eldest rushing to the passenger side of the car to stop his sluggish brother from falling out. At first, Bruce had thought that he was poisoned or impaired in some way. He called for Alfred, asking him to prepare the medical rooms to tend to Jason. A few short minutes later, he heard faint voices approaching. 

“I used to live here before I died, I know where I’m going.”

“Clearly not, we passed the entrance already.”

“The old man has a sensor on that door. We need to take the entrance in one of the bookshelves, they don’t notify him when someone enters.”  No one but Alfred was supposed to know that. 

“I doubt it’ll matter, he’s out fighting crime with—oh shit!” Bruce watched through his freakish peripheral vision as two figures hurriedly backed away from the doorway of the library. “Code Bat! Code Bat!” Dicks voice had dropped to a whisper, though not so quiet that Bruce couldn’t hear. 

“B’s here?” A head with a white streak of hair popped through the doorway before quickly vanishing. “Oh no.” 

“It’s only 11:45, what is he doing lounging around?”

Bruce chuckled quietly, now coming to the realization that they weren’t drugged or in danger; they were just drunk. Jason especially, which made sense. Quietly, he sent Alfred a message telling him to disregard the request. He feigned ignorance to their presence, going as far as flipping pages of the case file in his lap while they bickered, attempting to formulate a plan. Listening in to their not very secretive conversation, Bruce deduced that they had come to find Jason's soulmate on the Bat computer. It was his 21st afterall, and why else would he come drunkenly to the home he tried so hard to stay away from? Bruce found himself smiling for the boy. He had been through so much, and he deserved to have some good in his life. He only hoped that whoever they were, they took care of him in places where Bruce failed. 

Sighing exaggeratedly, he stood, stretched and slowly made his way to the doorway, listening as the two brothers hushed. He allowed himself one last second of respite before wiping the smile off his face and walking out into the dark hallway. Dick stood alone, leaning against the wall and whistling. He turned his head, seeing Bruce standing, observing him. 

“Oh, hey Bruce! I’ve been looking for you.” Dick pushed off the wall, going to stand next to his Father. “I thought I’d visit, wait for you to get home, but you’re here!”

“What do you need?” 

“Oh nothing much,” taking Bruce's arm, he began to drag him in the opposite direction, past the library. “I just got nostalgic, and wanted to take a trip down memory lane with my Pops.” 

“You smell like alcohol.”

“Like I said, I was feeling nostalgic!”

Dick rattled on, leading him down the dark halls, and Bruce noticed Jason slipping into the library. He smiled, turning his attention back to his eldest. He couldn’t find himself to be angry about his sons keeping secrets from him. If he felt anything about tonight's endeavor, it was disappointment. Bruce Wayne had taught his sons to be sneakier than they had been tonight. 

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩  ♡  ✩˚｡⋆𖦹｡°⋆✮

Jason, in his drunken haste, had almost tripped down the short flight of steps leading to the massive computer. He couldn't really blame the alcohol though—it was his fault for looking down at his arm every couple seconds, as though the black ink would fade away before he ever found out who you were. Even if it did, he had already committed the name to memory.

He knew how many letters were in your name, the number of syllables in the different parts of it. Despite this, he hadn’t yet spoken it out loud. For the last 30 minutes of his life, every breath he took held a certain weight to it, and the beating of his heart had persisted to be about 120 beats per minute.

He blamed it on the alcohol, but logically he knew the reason.

 That little boy—the one he thought was dead and buried—was coming back to life, crawling his way out of the depths of Jason and settling into his gut. 

His hand shook as he typed the name, every click of the keyboard ringing dully in his skull. Inhaling deeply, Jason hesitated for only a moment before clicking enter. Your name popped up surprisingly quickly, specifically registered under the “Wayne Scholarship” file.

His hand moved by its own volition and the link was clicked, a government ID popping up on the display. 

Staring up at the photo of you in awe, his eyes flickered to the name and back to the photo, unbelieving that this was you. Your simple beauty was evident even through the low quality government ID.

He stared for a while, just taking in you. It was a little odd looking at the huge screen, knowing that you two were made for each other. The thought only made his heart speed up even more. 

Digging into your file, he finds that you’re 20 and won’t be turning 21 for another seven months. The knowledge that he knows and you don’t makes him nauseous.

Clenching the edge of the table, he remembers that the reason he found you so quick was due to the Wayne Scholarship. You moved to Gotham for your third year of college to attend Gotham University, with most of the tuition paid for as long as you agree to stay away from any and all crime. Suddenly, he had found another reason to be thankful that Bruce was filthy rich. Your current residence was an old apartment complex in the University area, which was for the most part, free of crime. The more information he got from Bruce Wayne's files, the more his stomach fluttered. 

That little boy was practically jumping up and down inside of him, chanting over and over again, “I knew it! I knew we would have a soulmate!”. As the information sunk in, he began to shake more violently, and he felt like his legs were barely holding his weight. In fear of throwing up or collapsing on the floor (or both), he fell backwards into Bruce's chair. A tear slid down Jason’s cheek, and then another, and another. 

For the first time in a long time, Jason Todd sobbed.

[rose-tries-to-write]

Mission: Make Danny Nightingale Like Me

Masterpost | PART 1

A few months ago Tim Drake-Wayne, past Robin and current Red Robin, one of the best detectives and a spiteful fuck, met one Danny Nightingale. Who was a complete mystery.

Danny Nightingale moved to Gotham and started attending Gotham University and that is all Tim knows. He can't find where he came from, why he moved here, nothing. It's driving Tim, the FUCKING DETECTIVE, mad. Not to mention, Danny was kind when they first met. Amicable. That, for some reason, didn't last. He was mean, uncouth, and honestly a fucking asshole to Tim most days now. Tim needed to know why.

Then the Bats started meeting Danny. Started talking about a robbery or a stick-up or any number of instances all about a boy that fit into 'adoption bait' territory. Tim didn't have to guess who. Danny was a blue-eyed, black-haired boy of concerning food habits and questionable social habits. But it was another thing on the list of questions, questions, questions about this strange guy.

So, reasonably, the only option was to meet him as Red Robin so that Tim could see what Danny acted like with someone he didn't hate and get answers. On the first reported sight of him, Red Robin went running. And running.... and running... Okay, what the FUCK!

Whenever Red Robin showed up, Danny was nowhere to be seen. Even the others had shown confusion, turning in their spots trying to find the boy that was just right there, I swear! And sometimes, he just took off running! So Red Robin would chase, for hours, as Danny ran and ran and eventually some-fucking-how loses the vigilante.

Okay. Fine. Different approach. Danny didn't run from Tim Drake, just became an intolerable person. Tim would... make friends.

He started doing everything to make a connection with Danny. He wants to be friends, but Danny is borderline mean and dismissive of Tim no matter what he does. One day, Tim is complaining to the void about one thing or another, and… Danny laughs.

Danny—cold, unresponsive, non-expressive Danny—laughs at Tim’s misfortune and gods. It is the best thing he’s ever heard. It's soft and quiet and quick, but Tim is hanging off of it. Is holding still the way Danny’s face scrunched into it, the way his lips pulled and his nose scrunched around those pretty freckles.

Gods… Gods. Tim is lovestruck, head over heels, and on cloud nine all at once.

The moment passes all too fast when Danny speaks, quietly as if he were shy, “Do I have something on my face..?”

Tim is startled so hard out of the spell that he flinches back, hitting his head on the wall with a dull thunk, and spitting out in a flurry of sound, “What? N-No! No, it’s nothing.” Tim looks away, hiding the red that floods his face. He doesn’t understand why his face is flushed nor why the way Danny had looked had been so… perfect. Tim is hit with the feeling of wanting to run his fingers through the boy’s hair and kiss every freckle on the boy’s face and, fuck, he doesn’t understand why. The only thing that makes sense is...

To Danny’s complete and utter resentment (he’s actually very happy and very grateful that his soulmate isn’t giving up so easily on him), this only further emboldens Tim’s efforts on mission: ‘Make Danny Nightingale Like Me’ double down.

[dandey-lion]

Basic DC soulmate AU. Everybody has a soulmate mark. Pretty simple.

Enter Danny.

Now, he’s from another dimension. Came here for work, funsies, or by accident. The choice is yours. He doesn’t have a soulmate mark because he’s from another dimension.

Everybody around him is very confused and worried for him because that boy doesn’t have a soulmate mark! Everybody has a soulmate mark! What does this mean?

He’s out here trying to convince them everything is fine without giving away the fact that he’s from another dimension cause he doesn’t want to risk the hero community finding out about him.

Unfortunately, the bats and birds of Gotham are very curious people. And what’s more thought-provoking than the first person in their universe to not have a soulmate mark?

The Bats pursue.

Shenanigans ensue.

Bonus Points if somebody Danny cares about is in danger and he goes full eldritch.

Bonus Bonus Points if Danny’s eldritch body is covered/surrounded by runes, words, shapes, and the sort.

Bonus Bonus Bonus Points If the biggest shape on his body is a soulmate mark.

BONUS BONUS BONUS BONUS POINTS If his soulmate mark is the same as the person he’s protecting.

I think this is a great setup for a Danny x DC character plot.

[theroundbartable]

@verxen ok, but I've never seen cherry magic.

Also, my mind is a blender.

Soul marks were not magic, he'd said. Soul marks only had the purpose to have you meet your soulmate, he'd said. Kings' soulmates are Queens, he'd said.

The moment Arthur's eyes fell down to the sketched black dragon on Merlin's left shoulder, he knew his father's explanations had been little more than a lie. The Pendragon symbol, Arthur's greatest pride, resting mirrored and true on his own chest, doomed him from Merlin's harmed skin.

A line of blood tickled down Merlin's arm, right into the mark. Arthur felt the urge to touch it, to brush off the blood. He really shouldn't, but the mark was calling out to him, making him forget that he was supposed to help Merlin clean his wound.

Arthur's careless fingers brushed against the mark, breaking through his mind in no time. Finally complete, finally connected.

Whenever Arthur had imagined this moment to happen, he'd expected warmth, an intimate moment of shared connection, love, perhaps. To an extend, some of it was there, but he hadn't expected his soulmate's mind to be clouded with pain and delirious confusion when they'd first connect.

The touch seemed to be most prominent in Merlin's mind. Arthur's name echoed in its chambers like devotion, like prayer to a blood sacrifice.

But there was more. So much more. They had found Merlin here, attacked and bruised, with no sign of the attacker. "Who did this to you?" Arthur whispered, his anger lingering at the edge of his concern as he tried to read Merlin's mind.

Merlin's eyes snapped to him, Arthur's image burned into his eyes. The vision swam, a face forming as Merlin remained silent and warm to the touch.

'He has magic!' the words rang through Arthur's head, an accusation, forced through an attempted blockade on Merlin's part, an attempted tearing away from Arthur's grip. 'Then he won't be missed.'

Arthur's grip tighened. "Who, Merlin!!!"

Uther Pendragon's face flickered in his mind and died.

Send me a standard fanfiction trope and make me fuck it up.

I have no idea what to write, but my brain likes to do weird shit over normal stuff.

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main short

Look, I don't know if you can tell, but I really like soulmate AUs, okay. Also, writing something exactly 500 words is more annoying than I thought it would be, but was a fun experiment.

Lightly inspired by this post.

Edit: there is a part 2 now!

Danny's parents were never concerned about the words on Danny’s wrist. Given their occupation, they thought Danny would meet someone while studying, or perhaps even lecturing on ghosts, or maybe as part of some other job in the future. Jazz has always been concerned about the words on Danny’s wrist. This is probably the normal reaction, given most people do not surround themselves with the dead. 

Danny himself was concerned about it for a while. But then he died. The amount of death surrounding him at all times, what with his parents’ study of ghosts, practically tripled after that. And suddenly the words ‘Is he dead?’ were a lot less concerning. Because in his life, oftentimes the answer was yes.

Not that he was always around dead bodies or anything. But the company he kept did include a large amount of ghosts and other ectoplasmic beings, that while they were not dead, weren’t technically alive either. 

So, Danny moved on with his life as normal. He knew what his words were, but was never actively listening for them. For a few years there he was barely hanging on to sanity, battling ghosts and trying to graduate high school. 

Eventually, life calmed down. His parents, unfortunately, died in their own lab accident. Danny was in his senior year at the time, and Jazz took a semester off of college to help him graduate and get accepted at university himself. Then they shut the portal down and moved on from Amity Park.

Jazz went back to Yale. Danny, who did not make high enough grades for that, went to Gotham University. It was there that he discovered he actually really liked college. School was a lot easier when he wasn’t fighting for his life all the time, and this time he got to take classes he was actually interested in. 

By the start of his second year, his life was looking up. He was majoring in mechanical engineering, and he loved all his science classes. He had a somewhat decent apartment, and was living without much worries on the money from selling his parents’ house. Gotham is not the best area, but it can be a really cheap place to live. And he didn’t see Sam, Tuck, or Jazz as often as any of them would like, but they were all happy where they were.

Which makes the current moment much more distressing than it would have been in his teenage years. As Danny looks at the now-dead body in front of him, then turns and presses his forehead into the alley wall. He’s seconds away from banging his head against it, but that would only give him a headache and would in no way help the current situation. 

The vigilante standing across the alley, on the other side of the body, did not move for a solid minute upon rounding the corner onto the scene. Then he asks, in a voice distorted by tech, “Is he dead?”.

This is not good.

[jadewritesficshere]

Steddie soulmate AU where Eddie is a famous musician, everyone assumes he doesn't have a soulmate. Eddie was just smart and doesn't confirm, doesn't want to go through rabid fans who claim to be his soulmate. He's had too many show up wearing his initials they tattooed on themselves even before he was asked about soulmates in an interview.

Enter Steve Harrington who works as a nurse. Just casually on his third nightshift in a row in the ER. Sipping some coffee trying not to fall asleep when they get the call about some confidential patient coming in.

Eddie comes in for some injury. Steve has 0 clue who he is, just says "You look familiar, did we go to school together?" And Eddie practically falls off the stretcher at Steve's feet. Goes all googoo eyes at him. Steve being mildly concerned because Eddie's heart rate keeps skyrocketing (its because Steve is touching him).

One of the other nurses can't help but try and get the gossip from Steve, who is very much confused as to why she cares about this random patient. She tells Steve who Eddie is, and he's just like ???? Okay???

Steve doesn't admit it but the picture she shows is HOT. It's Eddie, flipping off the camera, tongue out. He's covered in tattoos, including the word 'sorry' written in a weird script on his middle finger. He's shirtless and his pants are so low that Steve can see the dip of his hips creating a v and-

Steve has to walk into the supply room to get himself under control. Pretends it doesn't mean anything and goes back to his job as his heart thuds rapidly in his chest.

Eddie tries not to pass out when they draw his blood, Steve holds his hand. It feels right. Eddie can't help wanting to ask," Hey, do you have a soulmate?" But he hates being asked that question, so he won't.

Until Steve bends over, his scrub top lifting up slightly. Eddie can't help glancing at his ass, but then he can't breathe. Because on his lower back is the initials EJM.

"Steve G. H?" Eddie asks as his voice goes up an octave. Steve turns, bewildered ," How did you-?" "Edward James Munson." Eddie whispers.

Oh