#the point is my brain is insane and if i screw up my eating and snack schedule my brain will tell me to kms

[soldier-poet-king]

Once again I am Feeling The Guilt Complex about the fact that I cannot fast or my brain will go even more insane and tell me to [redacted] which is a perfectly legitimate health reason not to fast, esp for a /suggested/ not mandatory day of fasting. And yet! And yet! BC it's an entirely mental problem (i.e. nothing actually bad will happen to my body if I fast) it feels like cheating. ONCE AGAIN THIS IS RIDICULOUS

[lovemeafterhrs]

one night only

you wanna ride for a lifetime, this is one night only.

gojo satoru x sorcerer! reader

part 2: make me stay

word count: 3k

MDNI!

warnings: porn with some plot, oral sex (f! receiving) in an empty classroom, gojo is majorly determined and it’s hot as fuck

listen along:

“jesus christ, satoru. you have got to stop doing that.” she sneered, obviously confused by his sudden presence in her empty classroom. he was supposed to be overseeing his students, not warping his way to her classroom instead. “what do you want?”

“you don’t even sound excited to see me. you’re breaking my heart here.” his white head of hair rested gently against the frame of the door, pressed against the wood as he sent her one of his signature bone-chilling smiles.

“is it that obvious that i don’t want you showing up at my doorstep, trying to take me home for the night?” her deadpan stare should’ve scared him off, but it only spurred him on more.

“oh, i wasn’t trying to take you anywhere. in fact, i’d like to stay right here.” gojo had always had a way with words, and if she didn’t know him so well she’d be shaking in her boots right now. to top it off, what he was insinuating was legitimately insane. sure, the students would all be busy for a number of hours, scattered through the forest at the tokyo campus. still, the idea alone made her cheeks burn in shame.

“i think that we should celebrate, as an act of goodwill between our schools.” satoru was trying not to break his cool and collected facade. it took everything not to crack a shit eating grin at his own words. even he thought the line was bordering on corny, but stupid shit kept pouring from his mouth as he stepped further into the room.

“oh, yeah? is that why you’re here, instead of in kyoto doing your job?” she looked remarkably unimpressed by his words, and she rose from her seat to lean against her desk instead. “what’s your angle here, satoru? you’re hardly useful to your students in this empty classroom with me.”

“oh, i’m just here to pitch my spectacular idea. i’ll be back before they even know i was gone.” his reply was lighthearted and playful, but something in his eyes told her that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“besides, aren’t you supposed to be there, representing your beloved school? not a very good example to be setting as a teacher.” he added, and she rolled her eyes at him.

“first of all, in what universe would i ever take you up on your so-called ‘spectacular’ idea?” she looked over at him, and she didn’t miss the way his eyes raked over her form. “second, i’m no use to them there. someone has to guard the home front.” she motioned to the school around her with one of her fingers.

“i can see it in your eyes, and in the way you’ve been clenching your thighs since i got here.” his response made her pause, and her eyes widened the slightest bit. she’d forgotten how receptive he was to body language, able to pick up even the smallest detail. she was screwed. so entirely screwed.

“that doesn’t mean i’m going to sleep with you.” she quirked an eyebrow at him, and he stifled a chuckle. that didn’t discourage him in the slightest. he had no intention of letting this opportunity slip out of his grasp. he was so close to finally breaking open her cold demeanor, he could nearly taste it. he was practically buzzing with excitement at this point.

“oh, c’mon baby. it’s just one night.” he smirked, and took another step towards her startled form. it was kind of funny, actually. it wasn’t so often that he saw the sorcerer so spooked, more like a deer in headlights than a powerful and dangerous entity.

“i told you to stop calling me that.”

“you keep saying a lot of things, but i only listen half the time.” his eyes glinted at her, and she frowned at the sultry tone that left his lips. she wasn’t stupid. she knew exactly what was going on in that little pea brain of his.

“you didn’t show up to the party.” he gave her a look that resembled one of a kicked puppy, just for good measure. said ‘party’ was the annual sister-school goodwill event, which he knew she hated.

“i missed you.” he cooed, and she looked at him in disgust. his sentiments were true, to a point. he liked seeing her much more than utahime, that was for sure. he liked teasing her, and riling her up far too much for a work function. in fact, he had grown to look forward to it.

it was fun. and he was dreadfully bored.

he didn’t get to see her that often, leaving him like an addict awaiting his next fix. it was kind of pathetic, if you looked at it too closely. he wouldn’t admit that, though. not over his dead body.

to be completely honest, he’d been trying to weasel his way into her underwear for more years than he could count. at every event since they were sixteen years old, he’d been adamate to pester her to an annoying degree. the two had developed a sort of love-hate relationship. one that had always leaned more towards hate than love, though.

“no, the whole thing was going to be a shitshow. besides, i wanted to spare myself from exactly what you’re trying to do right now.” her glare was pointed, and her reply was only partially joking. she chose not to respond to the other half of his sentence.

he didn’t have the guts to actually do anything, right? they’d been playing the little cat and mouse game for years, and he hadn’t succeeded yet.

she wasn’t expecting anything different, and she should’ve known not to underestimate him.

“what do you mean?” he asked, his tone deceivingly innocent. she didn’t believe it for a second.

“oh, don’t give me that shit. you should see the look on your face right now.” her response was more than accurate, even satoru himself could see that. he was leaning against one of the student’s desks, lust pooling in his irises as he leaned towards her.

“be honest, it’s working isn’t it?” his eyes glimmered in the light that beamed in from the window, as he lacked the small black glasses he normally wore. he was staring again. “you kind of want to fuck me, don’t you?”

“shut your whore mouth, satoru. you know that this is a dead end. why don’t you go get your rocks off somewhere else? i know there’s plenty of girls who want a chance to fuck you.” she was trying her best to fend off his advances, but the entire situation had made her rather weak in the knees. he had always been irritatingly gorgeous, but she found that she was having a hard time keeping her eyes off him.

“ugh, but they’re not as fun as you are. aren’t half as bratty, either.” he took another step, inching closer with every flirty reply. he could nearly see the finish line now, and he found himself growing more bold.

“i just think you’re a masochist. you like when i reject you, and kick you out the door on your ass.” he laughed darkly at her words, and moved to stand in front of her. he was towering over her, eyes lidded as he took in the sight of her so flustered.

“baby i’ll take whatever you give me, but i’d like it more if you didn’t.” he was inching his way in between her legs, and placed his hands on the table behind her.

“in your dreams, lover boy.” she choked out, leaning back against the wood in an attempt to keep him at a distance. satoru seemingly had other plans.

“you know that love isn’t my style, gorgeous. i’m just offering to blow your mind, if you’d let me.” his words nearly made her jaw drop open, but she clenched it hard as she swallowed down whatever her body was feeling right now.

“you talk like you have the biggest dick in all of japan. are you able to back up any of the shit you spew?” she was growing irritated now. he had always been such a fucking tease. knowing him, he’d warp out of the room before he touched her at all. she silently started to wonder if he was all talk, or if he was finally being serious for once.

“i’ve been trying to prove that to you, baby. you just never give me the chance.” his breath felt hot over the shell of her ear as he whispered to her, and he curled a strand of her hair between his fingers. she opened her mouth to speak, and he tutted at her again. “c’mon, angel. i know you want to.”

she didn’t reply, only scoffing at his words. she turned her head away from him, but he pulled her eyes right back to his.

“you’re giving me that look again.” she whispered, and he held himself back from laughing and breaking the tension. of course he knew exactly what he was doing, but he couldn’t help but try to push his luck.

“i have no idea what you’re talking about.” he replied with a charming smile, before staring down at her lips rather blatantly. he was testing his limits, and praying she wouldn’t throw a chair at him for trying.

“you are such a bad liar.” she had tried to keep her tone flat and unbothered. she really did. however, it came out closer to a whine than anything. he felt electricity coursing through his veins, and he nuzzled his face into her neck. his hands came around her hips, and he held her close as he left a soft kiss on her clavicle.

it was out of character to be this gentle, especially for him. that thought was shot to shit when she felt his wet tongue running along the side of her neck.

“satoru..” she breathed out, her words hushed as she tried not to moan. “we really can’t do this, i’m seeing someone.”

“are you exclusive?” he asked, not even bothering to look her in the eyes as he kissed her neck again. jealousy laced his tone, barely hidden in between the lines of his words.

“no but-“ she started, but was immediately shot down by an annoyed groan from the white haired sorcerer. he paused his ministrations, and his fingers started rubbing small circles into her hip bone. she was planning on telling him she had a date that night, but the words died in her throat when he squeezed the flesh of her thighs.

“fuck your little boyfriend, then. he can have you when i’m done.” he was staring her down with his sapphire blue irises, almost like he was trying to put her under a spell or something. it made her want to kick and scream, but instead she just stood stagnant as if the world had stopped beneath her feet.

“you are such an asshole.” she replied, her tone dry. still, she hadn’t pulled away in the slightest. “fuck, fine. just this once.”

“just once?” satoru asked, looking more than a little disappointed.

“yeah, one night only. if you try to get in my pants again i’ll fucking kill you.” she threatened, but all hints of malice left her voice when he bit into the flesh of her neck.

“you can try, but you probably won’t succeed.” confidence dripped off his words as he leaned to close the distance between them.

kissing satoru gojo was far too intimate, considering the situation they currently found themselves in. he kissed her like he was going to eat her whole, and devour every single part of her existence. his long arms wrapped around her ass, pulling her flush to his hips as he leaned forward again. the look in his eyes was akin to that of a starving animal, salivating over the sight in front of him. the wood desk underneath her creaked under his weight, but he paid it no mind as his hands began to creep underneath her dress.

he was having the time of his life, honestly. he never thought he’d have the chance to paw at the skin of the girl he’d been praying he’d get forever. he relished in every breathy gasp that left her lips, and soaked up every ounce of attention she was giving him.

“been waiting to fuck you for years. so excited to taste you.” his weight shifted as he dropped to his knees, and pulled her dress above her hips. “gonna make you cum so hard you can’t walk tomorrow.”

“oh, my employers will love that.” she rolled her eyes, thinking of the grumpy old geezer she took orders from. he’d probably have a heart attack if he saw the sight of satoru dragging her panties down her legs in the empty classroom.

“an even better reason to do it, honestly. maybe i’ll take you with me to the principal’s office and we can fuck on the old man’s desk-“ his words got him a smack across the side of his head, and he chuckled under his breath.

“do you ever shut up?” she asked, and he replied in kind by licking a stripe across her folds. ever the tease, he was looking to drag this little show out as long as he possibly could.

“you’ve known me since you were sixteen, you know the answer to that question.” he chided, and bit into the skin of her inner thigh. he was surprised he had made it this far, if he was being honest with himself. but he was nothing if not determined. his head dove between her thighs yet again, hell bent on hearing her loud moans ringing through the empty hallways.

her hands carded through his white locks of hair as his tongue made it’s way to her clit. a chill ran down her spine, and her back arched against the hardwood of the table.

“oh, does that feel good?” his question was muffled against her skin as he looked up at her, cheeks still pressed against her plush thighs.

“s-stop looking at me like that.” she replied breathily, and he winked at her before diving back into her folds. one of his fingers began to run along her entrance, gathering her fluids in a rather obscene manner. he licked his fingers, and hummed in appreciation.

“so wet already..” he cooed, touching and rubbing her most sensitive places with a smirk across his face. “is this all for me?”

“satoru.. please stop talking.” she whined, writhing against his touch as she was already getting dangerously close to release. his teasing was unbearable, and his words were doing way too much to her way too quickly.

“hmm.. let me think about that for a sec.” he mumbled, his tongue resuming it’s exploration. “how about.. no. maybe i’ll change my mind if you cum all over my face.” he smiled innocently, staring up at her again with his pretty blue eyes like he hadn’t just spouted the dirtiest shit she’d ever heard. his head was still planted between her legs, and his hands squeezed around her thighs as he pushed her further into the wood of the desk. she’d probably be covered in bruises from the pressure tomorrow, but she was too focused on the stars that had started to form behind her eyelids.

he started to tease at her entrance, before dipping a finger inside. followed quickly by another. her walls squeezed around his fingers, and she gasped as they started to move at a steady pace. it was all too much, and she couldn’t bare to watch him eating her out like it was his last meal on earth. she let out a pitched moan when his fingers brushed over a particular spot inside of her, and her hips sputtered at the contact. she loved the way he sucked at her clit, hitting exactly where she needed him to.

he only added fuel to the fire by pounding his fingers into the spongy surface, and her eyes widened as she came suddenly without much warning. her thighs clamped around his head, and he rocked her hips along his face as she rode out her high. even after, he still hadn’t let up in the slightest. it was overwhelming, and he didn’t stop moving his tongue until she was begging him to stop. she was already overstimulated, but she needed more.

for the first time ever, she was legitimately thinking about letting him fuck her right then and there. his lips left her clit with a grotesque pop, a string of saliva dangling from his pretty mouth as he pulled himself back up to look at her.

“you taste so good, baby. i bet you feel even better..” he teased, biting at her neck between his words. he looked down, admiring the mess he’d made of her already. “god, you’re shaking. you’re just begging to get my dick inside of you.” he continued, and her cheeks darkened as she nodded along wordlessly.

“oh c’mon, baby. tell me what you want me to do to you. i know you can do it.” god, he really never stopped talking. even when he was rubbing his clothed erection against her, he still found a way to keep his end of the conversation going. she wanted to wipe that smirk clean off his face.

satoru looked entirely fucked out after he nearly sucked the life out of her, with his lips swollen and his cheeks flushed. he looked almost entirely out of breath, so desperate to finally be getting what he’d been dreaming about for years. he began fumbling for his belt when his phone began to ring, and he looked down at the caller ID with a frown.

“fuck, i gotta go. this isn’t over, though.” he pressed a kiss to her lips, sporting a rather impressive tent in his uniform pants. he gave her a halfhearted salute, and disappeared before she had the chance to argue.

“such a fucking tease.” she groaned, cheeks burning as she pulled her dress back down. there was no way she was getting any work done now.

“where the fuck were you, asshole? we’ve been looking for you for the last hour.” shoko glared at her friend, and after staring him down for a moment a look of realization washed over her features.

“oh. nevermind. i literally do not want to know.” shoko’s expression turned to disgust, and she walked away from him without another word. she left satoru by himself, and he hit his hand against the wall as soon as she was gone.

“so close.” he sighed, leaning his forehead against the cool surface. “i got sooooo fucking close.”

[coffee-and-guitar-strings]

Studying with ADHD

Dear God. My activity on here is sporadic, as is fitting with my diagnosis, but I thought maybe this post could help anyone that's been struggling alongside me.

Warning: Long Post

Feel Free to browse the bullet points and stop if something catches your eye!

If you don't like any of these, don't use them! They're based solely off my experience, and everyone experiences ADHD differently <3

Content:

Setting up The Space

Study Snacks!! - No hunger in The Space

Compete with yourself

Ignore Pomodoro

Reverse the feeling of 'not being smart enough'

Active Recall

Unriddle.ai (not sponsored,,,)

Final Tip

Final Note

Here ya go:

1. Setting up The Space

Some sites say to create a 'distraction free zone' to study in. Screw that, it never worked for me.

My brain is the distraction. I'll stare off into space if there's no other option.

INSTEAD:

We set up a study space that both fulfils random urges mid-work session, and limits distractions away from the desk.

I.e. we don't get up until we need the bathroom.

You limit the amount you get up from The Space, you limit the number of things your attention span will switch to.

Snacks, fidgets, drawing, separate screen for watching stuff? Whatever works, stick it on the desk.

Food wise, I try to make a healthy lunch and then eat it at my desk while reviewing stuff, but sometimes I need a longer break.

If I am taking a break, I do it away from The Space. The Space is dead to me now.

Try to compartmentalise your area, work only in these spots, relax only in these, sleep only there.

We're trying to train our brains here, people, simple and clear relations of space to activity typically get embedded easier.

Also: work whenever.

Burst of energy at 9pm? Go for it, we sleep badly anyways.

Middle of lunch? Have a flashcard/ notes app on your phone, do it while you eat.

With friends? See method 5 <3

I'll link a separate post I'll be making on exactly how my space is set up, though most of the key points are in this one :)

2. Study Snacks!! - No hunger in The Space

One. Handed. Food. Only.

Also, food that doesn't get stuff on your fingers.

You can't work if you're constantly wiping your hands to keep going, and you need something you can absentmindedly grab while you keep your eyes trained on the work.

I recommend getting artificial sugar in your system, sweets, chocolate, give yourself a mild sugar rush to keep a bit of a buzz going while you work.

(try to be healthy about it, this won't be sustainable long-term, but I find a shot of sugar to the system can help prevent burnout)

Also caffeine! Please be aware of how much caffeine you're having for health reasons - I need to watch how much I have, since my medication is already bad for my heart, but even just having a coffee and some sugar at the start of the session, I get enough energy to start working

As long as I don't stop until I'm Done, I will be good.

3. Compete with yourself

I don't recommend competing with others, it toes the line of 'feeling like a failure' too much for my liking, but if it works for you, go for it.

Instead, I compete with myself. Mostly quizlet flashcards, but also 'how much of this have I remembered from yesterday?', and 'How much more can I remember today?'

Whether it's personality or hyperactivity, this gives a dopamine hit. Finding ways to make studying something you can score against is one of my favourite methods.

Video games are an ADHD staple for a reason, easily trackable progress and dopamine from rewards/hyperfixations/etc. make them addictive.

Turn the work into a video game (I think at this point I may sound insane to you guys but please trust me)

4. Ignore Pomodoro

ADHD students, we have to think like sharks: we stop, we die.

Once you have found yourself studying with (relative) ease, Do. Not. Stop. You keep that going as long as possible.

ADHD doesn't mean you can't focus, you can, you just have no choice in where that attention gets allocated. So, when a tomato-based timer tell you to turn off your focus and relax, after it took you half the damn time to start the stupid work, it can be a little counter-productive

(I may have some repressed rage for pomodoro, try to forgive me)

Please, ignore the pomodoro stuff. I know it's healthy to regulate the volume of work you do, but I find that once I start working, I can't stop until I run out of energy.

I time or video myself instead, I can track how long I've been working, feel proud of it, and I also can't use my phone during that session.

When my brain stops taking stuff in, I have an hour to 2 hour break, relax (away from The Space) try to reset my brain so it's back to baseline. Then I start again.

5. Reverse the feeling of 'not being smart enough'

I know I am smart, and it's on others if they don't see that, but having undiagnosed ADHD for 17 years did a number on my self image and confidence.

If you struggle with this, it's so, so helpful to try this method, and can start to reverse the negative internal image we've managed to cultivate <3

So, after you've covered a topic: tell someone about it (please make sure they're ready to listen to you rant for half an hour).

Not only are you reinforcing what you've just learnt, but you also get to feel competent, and teaching someone else about your topic helps to raise perceptions (internal or from others) of what you know/what you're capable of.

6. Active Recall

This one goes great with the whole, 'competing with yourself' method (no. 4);

Active Recall is just making sure you're going over old information and recalling correctly, once it's past short term memory. Trying to remember information without it present forces your brain to pull it from Long-term memory and reinforces the information in your brain.

I know it's been said a million times, but this + competing with yourself does wonders for me.

My favourite method is blurting ( read/write notes of one topic, wait ten minutes, do something else productive, and then try to copy that topic from memory. repeat until all key info is correctly recalled)

7. Unriddle.ai (not sponsored,,,)

Okay, this site changed it for me. 5 free uploads, 15 free inputs per month.

Download a copy of the fancy scientific paper/article/book you need to read through. Upload.

Ask unriddle to summarise key points, to re-write it as if you were 7, etc.

This genuinely saved my essays. Suddenly the procrastination of reading my source material was gone. It makes it so much easier to get through dense/boring text and then I wrote everything myself.

Please do not plagiarise, I am only recommending this site to make things easier to read, copying down what it produces is considered plagiarism by my uni, and likely most others.

8. Final Tip

Be kind to yourself.

When I got medicated, my friends were genuinely stressed by how much work I was suddenly doing.

One of them asked me about it, and I realised it didn't feel like I was doing any more than normal. I had always been working this hard, it was just that half the energy going in wasn't being wasted on trying to get myself to focus.

What you put in may not receive the same results as for others, but the reality is that you're likely working harder than they are. The irritating truth is simply that we have to compensate for the different cognitive functioning that neurotypicals get to take for granted

(no hate to the NTs, I'm glad ya'll don't have to think about it, but for someone with ADHD, it can be really tough to realise)

A Final Note:

You are smart. You can do this. We just need to modify the system a little to make it work for us. There is no shame in that, anyone telling you otherwise needs a reality check.

Genuinely though, I've noticed that people telling me I use my ADHD accommodations (required by law) as a 'crutch'.

1. If the world were set up by me, that same person would struggle just as much, if not more.

2. If Rishi Sunak's government is willing to GIVE ME FREE MONEY to access these accommodations, that implies that this genuinely is needed. Not because I think Sunak is intelligent or kind (my own political opinions, please just hear me out), but because there is no way, with the underfunding of the NHS, Public services, etc. that they'd be willing to give me money I don't need to repay if it wasn't a scientific fact that I needed it, and it helped.

Use the inadequacies of the government to your advantage in arguments, make the idiots see how integral our accommodations are. I'd have dropped out of uni by now without them.

For anyone in need of help trying to convince family/friends/teachers/etc. of the struggle with ADHD (or anything else, though I won't have as much experience with it), telling them what you need help with, or any other arguments, send me an ask. I do psychology for my degree, I am used to searching for research papers, and I will help you with the necessary scientific backing for your case.

You are not in this alone <3

Lots of Love!

Coffee + Guitar Strings

@chocolatelandgarden @chaoticstudyprincess

[luimagines]

Hi! I have a request, but first i wanna say your writing is absolutely amazing! The length + amount of time you put into these prompts is insanely good. Now! Onto the request, how would the boys react to a reader from a more modern era? Maybe a more modernized hyrule or our current point in time?

Masterlist

Thank you so much for the compliment! I'm happy to see the response even if this blog is still relatively new.

I hope I do your prompt justice.

I probably could have done a headcanon list but I was hit with inspiration.

I also might have given Reader some backstory.

Scenario below the cut! It’s long, take caution.

It was a cool night, but you didn't mind. Your bed was warm, the WiFi was fast and even if it was three AM on a school night, you managed to keep yourself giggling with cat videos and blursed memes until the words and colors merged.

A night well spent.

But it led to questionable decisions.

Even if the shredded cheese in the fridge was beginning to seem a more and more enticing snack, your body was tempted to succumb to slumber.

Until a large purple light encompassed the entirety of your window.

Something was in your backyard.

Aliens. Your tired brain supplies and you sprint to the glass and push away the curtains. Is this it? Is this where I'm kidnapped and never seen or heard from again?

You pull out your phone and open up the camera.

"Pics or it didn't happen." You remind yourself and snap a few before showing your face.

What you see isn't what you're expecting. Instead of a flying saucer in the sky beaming down a laser or a weird pear shaped space craft on top of the grass, there's a single panel of glowing light, swirling with black accents that creeps in a circular motion.

"Cheese and crackers...." You gasp and begin to blatantly stare at it with no regard to whether something may be coming out of it.

You wait and nothing happens.

You wait some more and nothing happens.

You spend an hour watching this portal that has appeared out of nowhere, waiting for something to happen, willing for something to happen. But you get nothing.

The unknown stares right back at you, unblinking and unchanged.

Go through it. A voice tells you. What if there's something on the other side?

"I'm going to die." You gulp and take a deep breath.

Who else gets a chance like this? The voice talks again. This could be a grand step towards a more modern society. A whole new world could be on the other side, waiting, reaching out, calling to humanity!

You think you a see a shadow move behind the portal and out of sight but it’s gone before you can even process it.

"Should I call the police?" You step away from the window, ignoring the thoughts, the voice- you're too tired to know if it's your own any more. What's the plan? How does one go about something like this?

Where’s your sense of adventure? Pack a bag and go! What if it goes away?

That last thought seems to get through to your tired brain and for a reason beyond your understanding, it latches onto it.

Now you’re excited.

You run to the closet and take out your old backpack. It used to be for school but it was fancier since it was the only one you could get. The bag had a replaceable water bag with a plastic straw connected through the back of it and the straps have just worn down enough to where they’re actually comfortable. It doubled as a hiking backpack and came with its own insulated lunch box that clasped on the back of it.

It’ll finally serve its purpose.

You quickly roll up your favorite blanket and strap it in tightly beneath the lunch box. You’re quick to take out two extra outfits and pack them as well as change out of your pajamas.

Ok. What would you need? You don’t know where you’d be going so this has to a catch all kind of deal.

You pack away your swiss army knife first for good measure. A solar powered charger for your phone and an extra pair of socks follow suit even after you’ve picked out the extra clothes.

You take out the water bag and run to fill it all the way to max capacity as you think of any other necessities.

You’d need food. You have a small jar of peanut butter and granola bars that can fit in the lunch box. You can bring your extra water bottle and put in the side pockets of the backpack, and maybe bring some of those powered flavor packets your brother loves so much. You think he has lemonade and some green tea ones.

Those would be great. He won’t mind, hopefully.

You let the bag overfill momentarily before running back to shove it in your bag. with the lid screwed tight.

Next you run to the kitchen, grabbing the first things that you thought of already and begin to look around for more.

You grab an unopened pack of beef jerky, a bag of veggie sticks and a half eaten bag of dried mangos.

During your search you grab the water bottle and fill that too.

You return to your room with your bounty and begin to carefully put everything in the box. With some more deliberation, you run back to the kitchen and make yourself a quick sandwich, eat it, make another one and pack that as well.

You look out side the window and the portal is still there.

The sun is beginning to rise now so you’re trying to go as fast as you can, unless you want to neighbors to think something is going on.

Even if it is.

You’re about to leave but in a stroke of brilliance, you run to pack sunscreen and bug spray as well. You see a small first aid pack that was bought recently for when you would take your family vacation but you reason that it might one of the most important things you’d have if you got hurt.

Into the bag it goes.

You grab your hoodie before you leave the door, wrap it around your waist and pocket your phone, your headphones and your wallet.

You feel immediately under packed when you step outside and see the portal up close.

It’s weirdly triangle shaped, you think and step closer.

You reach your hand out and try to touch it. It feels as if you put your hand through a humidifier but it’s not wet. It’s misty and cold but not necessarily unpleasant.

An idea hits you right before you take your first step through.

You pull up one of the earlier photo’s you took and send it to your friend’s group chat. It showed up in my backyard. I decided to make a bad late night decision and I’m going through. If you never hear from me again, I want you all to fight over my electronics. Winner takes all. Godspeed.

And you step through.

You had first assumed that it would merely take you tot he other side but very quickly realize that you have to walk through it.

The first part still had a little light but with time, it got darker. So dark that you couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face.

You kept walking.

As fast as the light disappeared, it came back and you stepped into the light of an open field, right in front of one, two, three, four, nine males that had appeared to be traveling towards you or rather, towards the portal.

The portal disappears in the process.

“Oh so we didn’t have to go through it! We had to gain another member!” One of them yells. “Would have been nice to know before we packed everything up!”

“Ho boy, where am I?” You ask and tighten your grip on your backpack. Why didn’t I bring a weapon?

They all had long tunics and swords on their backs. Old fashioned leather boots and hand bracers were the norm in this group and you realized very quickly that your jeans and t-shirt had wildly missed the memo.

“Dang, I didn’t think I’d walk into a LARP group. Sorry about that.” You sheepishly smile. “I had no idea where the portal was going to take me. But if you would be so kind-”

“Wait, what’s LARP?” One of them speaks up. He was a dirty blond and somewhere in the middle of the group height wise. He wore a white cape like thing with blue designs on the back but you didn’t recognize the symbol.

“Live Action Role Play?” You tilt your head. “It’s why you’re all dressed like that? Right?”

“This is just our clothes.” What appears to be the youngest bounces up to you. “What are you wearing?”

“First I could grab in my closet.” You admit and look down on it. It’s one of your comfiest shirts and best looking pants. You’re a little proud of yourself for finding those in the dark.

“Weird.”

“We’re heroes. We’re all named Link.” Cape guy speaks up again. “Is it safe to assume that you’re in the same boat?”

“Heroes?” Your eyebrows furrow together. “I’m not a hero and my name’s not Link.”

You’re quick to tell them your name and you watch as the confusion covers their faces. “My brother’s name is Link though if that helps anything.”

“Oh we needed him!” The youngest groans and it instantly irks you.

“What would you need with a five year old?” You deadpan and cross your arms. 

The information stuns the group.

“The portal showed up in the middle of the night and I’m the one that went through it. I’m pretty sure I was the only awake to even see it. Are you telling me that it was for my little brother?” You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little pissed. “My baby brother was supposed to go through it? He was asleep! He’s five. What kind of logic is that?!”

“Well...” The biggest and oldest of them runs a hand over his face. You think he has some cool tattoos and sick scar going across his eye but he looks about as angry as you feel, so you don’t say anything. “It appears the gods truly do not care for the hero’s maturity, only his existence.”

“Ok...What’s with all this hero talk?” You bite back. “What did... Where am I?”

“Hyrule.” The second with cool face tattoos speaks up. He’s got a large fur pelt around his shoulders and you have to tighten your grip against your backpack again to keep from reaching out to touch it.

Even so you feel yourself deadpan even more. “Hyrule? Like the ancient empire? The one that collapsed more than two thousand years ago? That Hyrule?”

You’re inclined to not believe them and write all of them off as crazy... but you also walked through a portal. And your grandma did say that magic existed in the strangest forms.

They all share looks of concern and some begin to murmur quietly amongst themselves but you’re too far gone to even notice.

“Did I time travel?” The idea hits you like a bus and you feel your eyes widen as you stare beyond the group. You quickly take our your phone and unlock it.

No signal.

“Is that a type of Sheikah slate?” Someone asks you.

“I don’t know what that is.” You reply automatically. “Wait, hold on, what year is it?”

“Why don’t you tell us what year you’re from and we can start from there?” The darkest brunette of the group speaks up.

“202x PC” You say robotically, not really processing the world around you anymore.

“That’s...” The blond with a long blue scarf speaks up with a slight hiss. “...Beyond any of our timelines. You see, we all come from different worlds and eras of Hyrule’s history.”

“I don’t think you’re the farthest down anymore, Wild.”

“This would then make them my successor, right?”

“It would make their brother your successor.” Someone amends. “I think they just jumped in his place.”

“Leave my brother alone.” You snap back into the present, pocketing your [hone again. “Ok, you know what, screw it. I don’t know what you’d want my brother for but I’m here now. I’d gladly take his place if it means he gets to stay home!”

“Hey.” A boy with pink hair stalks up to you looking a little more serious than you’d like.

“Nice hair dude, way to defy the gender norms.” You smirk a little before genuinely grinning, hoping to quell the tension. “What product do you use? It looks like Artic Fox but not every place sells their brand.”

“...I have no idea what you’re talking about but what happened to Ganon in your world? How have you been handling it?” He snaps and places his hands on his hips.

“Ganon? Like my old principle? That’s a name I haven’t heard in forever.” You’re confused again. “Last I heard he joined the police force only to be reassigned out of state. I don’t know what’s happening with him. Kinda hope he gets fired though. He’s not a bad guy but he’s not someone you’d want in that kind of position of power, you know.”

“Police force?”

You blinked and look them all over. They look very medieval. “Oh... You don’t have that...”

You begin to think about your history lessons and what they might be familiar with if they’re telling the truth about being from Hyrule.

“Ya’ll got knights?”

Many, almost all of them nod, a few with face of despair already on them before you finish speaking.

“It’s kind of like that. Mixed with a towns guard position... kinda. They enforce laws... at least they’re supposed to but the whole system is flawed and racist and really needs to be dismantled for the abuse of power that they have-”

“Abuse? Of power?” You have their attention again.

“It’s stupid and it won’t really make any sense if I try to explain because I doubt you have anything similar but it’s basically a group of people given the right to treat the public in anyway they like for their own benefit because they have no one telling them that they can’t.” You groan and slowly begin to feel your lack of sleep catch up to you. 

You slowly reach to behind you and sit down on the dirt, looking at all of them. “Mr. Dragmire wasn’t like...Demise or anything but he was a huge jerk. No one liked him. He liked me though. I remember that. I was the envy of the whole school because I somehow got on his good side while everyone else wants to strangle him. I think he was transferred for some misdemeanor or something like that... like he might have been throwing hands with someone he wasn’t supposed to. I never heard all the details. I didn’t really care for it when it happened either. I’m pretty sure he lost that fight though. The dude looked like a blast of wind could have knocked him over let alone someone’s knuckle sandwich.”

“I would love to hear more about this.” The youngest sits next to you with a large grin on his face. His eyes are bright and his body language reminds you of your cousin Zelda. You instantly think they’d get along like a house on fire. “What are your monsters like?”

“Monsters?” You tilt your head. “Be a little more specific bud, it depends on where you’re from.”

“You have that many?!”

“It depends on if you believe they’re real or not.”

“Speaking of monsters, can you fight?” The shortest walks up to you. You like that his tunic is stitched up with multiple colors and designs. It gives it personality, you think. “Do you have a weapon you’re more comfortable with?”

The question throws you off your rhythm and you don’t fight your wince. “What would happen if I say that I do not, in fact, have any sort of weapon on me?”

“I wouldn’t believe you.” Pink guy speaks up again. “That pack is huge, there has to be something in there.”

“It’s food, water and extra clothes my guy.” You lean back against said backpack since it won’t let you lay down with it still on. “Not a lot of space for anything else. I’m pretty good at hand to hand combat though. Karate’s a good way to fight out stress.” 

“Your bag’s not magic?”

“Why the hell would it be magic? ...Are you trying to tell me magic actually exists?” You raise an eyebrow as your eyes begin to close against your will. “I know my grandma said it does but I thought she meant like fairies and shadow demons.. and bigfoot. Can’t forget him, he’s the real MVP... You know...Children’s bedtime stories and stuff like that, it’s not real. But like magic magic? Magic items and the like? Find me Tinkerbell and I’ll show you Neverland, that’s what I say.”

“Are you serious?”

“Second star to the right, straight on till morning.” You respond.

There’s a moment of silence as the group in front of you processes your words. It’s hard to tell their reaction since you’re not looking at them but you no longer have the energy to do anything else.

“Are you falling asleep right now?” It’s the one they called Wild.

“I...” You try to open your eyes. They don’t budge. “I haven’t slept in nearly 20 hours... I think. I might have past 24 hours a while ago actually. Portal showed up at like four in the morning... I had to get up at six and I didn’t sleep at all before then.”

More silence.

“Great another one.” Someone scoffs.

You snort.

“Why did we pack up camp again?”

“No one kill me.” You say right before you lose consciousness. “Please and thank you.”

“They’re doomed.”

“Have some faith Vet. They stepped in for their little brother. That has to mean something?”

“They’re in for a rude awakening, and that’s all I have to say about it.”

[sirthisisa-wendys]

To Heaven and Back: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Surfing isn't always done on the water.

wc: 1.5k

tw: NSFW (minors DNI)

“You did pretty well out there,” you hear over your shoulder, and you turn to face the handsome surfing instructor that happened to be your friend’s brother-in-law. “You’re a friend of Nissa’s?”

“Yeah,” you begin, pushing your wet locks behind your face. “But you know she’s not coming. She backed out because her company has a major presentation due this week, and I’m heading back tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Geto Suguru shrugs, placing his surfboard against the wall before pulling a lever that releases clean, fresh water over his entire body. You watch the rivers of water run from his hair and down his back, where bunches of muscles you can’t even name gathered together and made a path for the water to travel down past his waist and to his shorts. “Are you staying in the beach house?”

“Y-yeah,” you answer, eagerly trying to find something - anything - to get your mind off of the hunk in front of you, like the fact that your legs are getting tanner.

“Do you mind if I stay over for the night before I drive back to the mainland? I mean, it’s our parent’s beach house, but I don’t know if you want privacy or…”

“No, that’s cool!” you blurt, maybe a little too excitedly.

He turns to face you, smiling widely and making the shaka sign with his right hand. “Right on.”

_____________________________________________________________

The hot water from the shower soothes your aching muscles and you sigh, thankful the water hadn’t gone cold yet. You let Geto go before you as a sign of goodwill, hoping he wouldn’t take too long in the only bathroom you had available.

But when he came out in a towel and nothing else, you averted your eyes, praying to the higher powers that be in your head like a madwoman. It would be your fate that you were going to be stuck with him on your last night, but you quickly push those thoughts aside. Nothing would happen between the two of you. He was your friend’s brother-in-law.

You emerge from the shower and wrap a towel around your figure, padding into the master bedroom and digging through your suitcase for something suitable to wear.

And that’s when you hear it.

A pained groan.

Instantly, worry sets into your mind and you forget you’re in a towel. You follow the sound of the groan to the guest bedroom, and you peek into the room, hoping Geto wasn’t hurt.

He’s standing at the dresser, facing away from you with the towel at his feet. You realize he’s fully naked, his face screwed up in concentration with his eyes closed and his hand… his hand is… his hand is moving…

“Fuck, y/n…” he moans, and for a moment, you think you’re caught, but his eyes are still closed and you--

“Achoo!”

Your head bangs against the door, knocking it wide open, and Geto whips around, eyes wide; shocked, and slightly embarrassed at the sight of you in a towel. In his doorway. You stare at each other in silence, unsure of what to say to ease the tension in the room. You look down to his still erect cock and then back up at him, then you raise your chin slightly, arching a brow.

“Was I on my knees or were you fucking me?” you wonder, and Geto curses, charging up to you like a dog in heat. When he yanks you into the room and slams the door shut, you know you’re in for it, and you climb on the bed expectantly.

One hand goes to your face, holding it as he kisses you roughly, and the other yanks off the towel without hesitation. You don’t speak as he lays you across the bed and fondles your breasts, hoping that his mouth would find your sensitive nipples and stimulate you even further.

“Geto, holy shit,” you whine as his fingers reach between your legs and stroke your clit leisurely. His mouth finally drifts to your breasts and you arch your back slightly, pressing into his face with a sense of urgency. He slides one finger into you, his thumb still rubbing your most sensitive spot, and you groan low in your throat, urging him to do more.

He’s in no rush though, feasting on you like you were the main course and popping your nipples in and out of his mouth at will. The sensory overload is driving you insane, and you writhe beneath him, feeling the heady sensation of an orgasm building relentlessly.

“G-Geto, please…” When he hears your cries, he strokes your clit faster and inserts another finger, stretching you out easily. The orgasm crashes over you like a wave, and you convulse around his fingers violently, exhaling so loud that you can practically hear it echo throughout the beach house.

Before you can even come down fully, though, Suguru already has his cock ready to press into you. “Tell me you want this and I’ll give it to you,” he mutters, and you nod eagerly. “Use your words, ku`u lei,” he urges you, and you pant,

“Please, yes.”

The stretching that ensues is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Your mouth opens into an “o” at the feeling, not out of pain, but out of an overabundance of stimulation. Every vein, every pulse, every twitch… you can feel it tenfold. He thrusts into you slowly, lips coming down to yours and kissing you deeply as he moves within you carefully. But before long, your legs relax against the bed, and Suguru takes that as a sign that you want more. He presses your legs back with his hands and grips the backs of your knees before leaning onto them, pressing his entire length into you.

“You like that?” he breathes in your ear, and all you can do is mewl at the sounds of his breathing as he fucks you stupid. He hums and kisses your cheek, the sounds of slapping skin picking up again. “Fuck, this is some good shit.” You exhale and inhale rapidly, unsure if your lack of breath is because you’re overstimulated or if you’re just really into the way he’s got you pinned underneath him, but whatever it is… he’s got you down bad.

The bed is creaking angrily and your legs are shaking, but it seems neither of you cares. Neither of you wants it to end. But a shudder rips through you, and Geto feels it in the spasms of your cunt around his cock.

“Tighten up like that again and I might just--” He’s cut off by you doing it again, and he grunts, his strokes becoming sloppy and rushed, almost as if he’s about to cum. “Shit,” he groans, and you feel the twitching of his cock inside of you as your orgasm peaks, pushing you to the edge again. You both lose your minds in the beach house, moaning loud enough to startle the birds outside as you cum.

_____________________________________________________________

“I take it the three-day vacation was great,” Nissa mentions before shoving a bite of pie in her mouth, standing over your kitchen island. It had been a few weeks since you’d been on the island, but every single night you were reminded of the afternoon you spent on your back.

“Oh, it was fun,” you reply, trying not to let her see your face as you put the pie in the fridge. “I had a great time.”

“Did you go surfing with my brother-in-law?”

“Yeah, that was cool.” You conveniently leave out that he fucked your brains out twice and then cooked you breakfast before the shuttle took you off to the airport, hoping she wouldn’t prod any further.

“Oh, did I tell you he’s in town for the next two weeks?” You spin around, facing her with a confused look.

“Oh?” Nissa breaks into a grin, wiggling her eyebrows.

“And he asked if he could see you at some point…” The doorbell rings at that moment, and you inhale deeply, your face twisting into shock.

“No, Nissa. You didn’t.”

“Anyways, I have to go! Company business calls, you know.” Nissa sashays to the front door of your townhome, then puts her hand on the knob. “Oh, I wonder who it could be?” You try to stop her from opening it, but she gets it open regardless, and you see Geto Suguru standing in the doorway, eyes flicking between the two of you.

“Hey, Nissa. Didn’t know you’d be over here…” he rubs the back of his neck, his black hair tied up behind his head. “Hey, y/n.”

You tug at the edges of your shirt dress, trying to smooth your untamed curls back behind your face. “Hey, Geto.”

“I was just leaving. You’re cool with being left alone with Geto for a bit, right, y/n?” Nissa doesn’t wait for your answer before leaving the townhome, getting into her car, waving, and then driving off.

You turn back to Geto, who is grinning slyly.

“Put your shoes on and come on. I want to take you out for lunch.”

“Lunch?”

“I mean unless you want me to skip straight to the part where I’m eating you for dessert, which is fine.” Your stomach leaps at the sound of that, and you grab your shoes by the door and your keys.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask, and he watches you lock the door before whispering in your ear,

“To heaven and back, if you’ll let me.”

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @jotazinha @brownskinnedgirll @leanne-tamashi @amaris9 @vabybizzle @missbonekitty

(IF I MISSED YOU, PLEASE TELL ME/ FORGIVE ME)

[lunabonita]

My Webtoon Recommendations

These are webtoons that are all 10/10 for me. Of course it doesn’t have to be a 10/10 for you, so just a reminder, do not attack me for liking a webtoon that you do not. These are my opinions and we are not going to have the exact same taste. Please be respectful.

Your Throne

Genre: Fantasy

Chapters: 75

Status: Ongoing

-

“Tensions are brewing under the seemingly calm surface of the Vasilios Empire, a kingdom ruled by the Imperial Family and the Temple. Lady Medea Solon has lost her place next to Crown Prince Eros, but resolves to win back whats rightfully hers. Will she reclaim her throne?”

You know whats amazing about this webtoon? The summary leads you to think that what shes winning back is the prince. Wrong. Shes trying to win back the throne. I love how this webtoon doesn’t try to make it a girl focusing her goals on a man, but on power. Medea is such a strong and well written character that you can’t help but love her.

The second protagonist Pschye, who of which is the person who took Medeas place as Crown Princess, is the complete opposite of Medea. At the beginning you hate her, but as the webtoon goes on and Medea and her get a better understanding of eachother due to them switching bodies as a wish from God, you begin to root for them as they team up to take over the throne from the Crown Prince.

The art is so beautiful and I constantly found myself at awe from the amount of detail put into it.

-

The Makeup Remover

Genre: Romace

Chapters: 78

Status: Ongoing

-

“After years of being told to focus on studying, Yeseul feels lost when she starts college and is suddenly expected to pay attention to makeup. When a chance encounter with brilliant makeup artist Yuseong leads to her taking part in a televised makeup competition, Yeseul begins to question the role that makeup and appearance play in society.”

This was created by one of my favorite webtoon creators Lee Yone. Their art is just so amazing and their stories always include such good topics.

For instance, The Makeup Remover’s theme is loving yourself for who you are. It shows how people treat you based on your looks and as someone whos struggled with that kind of thing for a while, this webtoon really touched me. The main character Yeseul is such a relatable character, even when trying to reject beauty standards, she still came subject to the pressures of living up to the people around her. She struggles with trying to love her own appearance and I really like that this webtoon didn’t try to be like, ‘fuck the beauty standard im better than that screw pretty people!!!’ it actually showed realistically how people struggle with self-image. I also love the main love interest because oh my god, we need more men like him please. He doesn’t care about Yeseul’s appearance and genuinely loves her for her personality.

Also, art is amazing. The author is so talented and you should support them by reading and liking the chapters.

-

Surviving Romance

Genre: Horror

Chapters: 14

Status: Ongoing

-

“When Chaerin Eun becomes the protagonist of the romance novel she is reading, she expects a fairytale ending with the novel’s love interest, Jeha. But when a bizarre twist makes her realize the story is not playing out as it does in the book, she’ll need the help of an unlikely character from her class to defy the new storyline and find her happy ending - if only she can figure out who this ‘Unknown Extra’ is first!”

Hands down one of my favorite webtoons by a long shot. You ever see a webtoon and think, ‘oh yeah, thats going to be a good webtoon’? Thats how this webtoon was for me. It was so good that I spent hours searching for other chapters that hadn’t been uploaded to webtoon yet on other manhua websites. I discovered it because it was also by the author of ‘The Makeup Remover’.

If there is one thing you need to know about me, its that I am a huge horror fan. So when I saw that my favorite author on webtoon had a horror themed webtoon out? You bet your behind that I binged it. Let me tell you, best choice ever.

Think of it as if ‘Ino’s Law’ and ‘Quarantine’ were combined with amazing art and a badass MC.

The Remarried Empress

I love how it is set up to the point where she cannot ‘quit’ until she completes the novel. Creating scenarios where she must survive while meeting the standards in the book. It is such an amazingly written webtoon and I cannot wait for more chapters to be released.

-

Genre: Fantasy

Chapters: 82

Status: Ongoing

-

“Navier Ellie Trovi was an empress perfect in every way - intelligent, courageous, and socially adept. She was kind to her subjects and devoted to her husband. Navier was perfectly content to live the rest of her days as the wise empress of the Eastern Empire. That is, until her husband brought hone a mistress and demanded a divorce. ‘I accept this divorce… And i request an approval of my remarriage.’ In a shoking twist Navier remaarries another emperor and retains her title and childhood dream as empress. But just how did everything unfold? “

Am I in love with Navier? Yes.

I absolutely adore how this story was set up. The first chapter begins with the big divorce scene, followed by Navier saying that she was going to be remarrying someone else since he wants to divorce her. This sets up a picture that gets completely shattered as you read the chapters. How everything falls into place with the reason behind the divorce and the remarriage is just so well written. The art is so good and and everything is just so insanely well done.

I absolutely love Naviers character, from her regalness and devoted loyalty to her role as empress, all the way to her petty moments and times of sadness. She is truly a character that you want the best for, and I cannot image anyone not liking her. Also the story is just so capable of making you feel emotions. I’ve laughed, cried, and got angry during the course of reading this webtoon. I love how betrayed I felt when the emperor brought home his mistress. It felt like I was in Navier’s shoes!

This is such a well done webtoon and I'm so excited for Navier to get all of the good things she deserves in her new Kingdom and with her new husband.

-

Witch Creek Road

Genre: Horror

Chapters: 74

Status: Ongoing

-

“A survival horror about love, acceptance, death, and revenge. And sexy flesh-eating demons. Yeah, it has those, too.”

This series seriously mind fucked me. The way that this story is set up, you don’t see the full picture until the later chapters. Season two literally blew my mind. It is also very gorey so keep that in mind if you don’t like that kind of stuff, but for me that makes it all the better. It is just so wild and crass that you can feel your heart pumping in anticipation.

They even have their own website that goes further into the lore because it’s just so wild. Also the art style is just so amazing, because it complements the story and horror theme so much. You hate most of the characters because they suck, and it is so satisfying when they are killed. Also it has it’s sad moments but I think it is a nice break from the horror so it isn’t so overwhelmingly scary.

I binged this series and I recommend reading only a few chapters a day so you don’t overload your brain.

Other then that, an amazing webtoon. Seriously, go read it, support the author, so much work goes into the story and art that it’s insane.

-

Dating With A Tail

Genre: Romance

Chapters: 36

Status: Ongoing

-

“On the dawn of her 29th birthday, unlucky-in-love Yunha discovers a shocking family secret: she’s started growing a fox tail, the mark of an ancestral curse. She must find her fated love before her 30th birthday or she is destined to become a fox forever! Even with her new-found enchanting power to attract men using her scent, will one year be enough to break the curse before it’s too late?”

Oh my gosh this is just such a good webtoon. It has amazing art, story telling, and characters. The true love interest was there the whole time, the villain isn’t who you’d expect it to be, and the spirit who cursed her is just! Im not going to spoil it but go read this webtoon!! It is so good and deserves more love.

Also Yunha is just so relatable?? Like she put off finding the woodcutter (her fated love) for 29 years and waited last minute to find him. Homegirl is me trying to do a project for school. Also to get rid of the scent that makes men attracted to her, she just starts eating a ton of garlic and that is just so funny to me.

Also I would go to church for the priest anytime if you know what i mean ;)

-

Omniscient Reader

Genre: Action

Chapters: 53

Status: Ongoing

-

“Dokja was an average office worker whose sole interest was reading his favorite web novel ‘Three Ways to Survive the Apocalypse.’ But when the novel suddenly becomes reality, he is the only person who knows how the world will end. Armed with this realization, Dokja uses his understanding to change the course of the story, and the world, as he knows it.”

I cannot get over how high quality this story is. The world building is phenomenal, the art is fantastic, and the characters are very fleshed out. This deserved all the hype it has gotten so far and more.

I love the ‘mc thrown into a different reality’ trope so much. Just like with surviving romance, Dokja’s world became the story he was reading. Also a very cool aspect of the story is the level up and the fact that its like a game. Earth has turned into this show for god like creatures to watch and it follows Dokja trying to survive. I also really like that TWSA has a protagonist, but Omniscient Reader’s protagonist is not the protagonist that was in TWSA. There is just so much lore and I’ll say it again, the world building is just phenomenal.

The Ddokkaebi’s and Dokja’s interactions are also just some of my favorite moments from the story so far. And oh my goodness I would die for Lee Gilyoung. Thats it, thats the tweet. That little boy could probably kill me with his giant praying mantis and I would let him if it would make him happy.

-

Not So Shoujo Love Story

Genre: Comedy

Chapters: 45

Status: Ongoing

-

“Romance super-fan Rei Chan is ready for her first boyfriend and she knows just who it’ll be: the most handsome boy in school, Hansum Ochinchin. But her plans for the perfect story are derailed when the most popular girl in class declares herself a rival… for Rei’s heart?! This is the year her not so shoujo love story begins!”

This is just such a cute webtoon. The style is very appealing and while the humor can be childish and weird sometimes, it still has made me laugh a lot. I know the humors not for everyone but just keep in mind that it does get better as the story progresses and gets more serious.

Also its a gl! I’m really unable to find good gls these days that don’t fetishize wlw relationships. Rei being painted as a mean trouble maker whos just misunderstood and Hana being the ‘perfect girl’ who only wants Rei’s attention is such a cute dynamic. They balance each other out and better each other. Also stan Rei for constantly sticking up for Hana even if she doesn’t necessarily like her in the beginning, she has very good morals and sticks to them.

Also the defying stereotypes in this webtoon? Just god-tier. Really makes you think twice when you judge someone just on first impressions alone.

-

Odd Girl Out

Genre: Drama

Chapters: 264

Status: Ongoing

-

“After a successful winter break makeover, Nari is finally ready for her high school debut. But somehow, she ends up friends with the three prettiest girls in school! Follow Nari as she tries to navigate her brand new high school life surrounded by beauties.”

This story has made me cry multiple times. A lot, even. It is just such a beautiful tale of friendship and finding support in people who are unlike those around theme. It also tells a great story about how anybody can be the ‘odd girl out’. Be it the fat girl, the beautiful girl, the rich girl, or the laid back girl.

It goes so deep into its characters that you even feel bad for the minor antagonists. It really makes you feel for the characters and the reasons behind their actions. Also I know its long, believe me I binged all 260 chapters in the span of three days, but oh my god it is worth it. Also I know the art is kind of off-putting, in fact that’s kind of why I put off reading the story, but I’ve honestly grown to love it and the writing is so good that the art could be literal stick figures and it wouldn’t matter.

The story is amazing and also I just love Nari. She’s just the best.

-

Gremoryland

Genre: Horror

Chapters: 67

Status: Completed

-

“Six old school friends are invited to be the first visitors of GremoryLand, a new horror theme park that promises an experience as unique as it is spooky. But once this experience starts there is no turning back, and they find themselves tested beyond what they imagines, facing their most desperate fears in order to survive.”

This is definitely one of those stories were you kind of need to turn of your brain and choose to ignore ‘plot holes’ while reading the early chapters because this story definitely gets crazy if you don’t know the ending. Believe me if you stick with it it will all make sense and the satisfaction you get from finding the ending is just so worth it.

The story is so good, and who Gremory is you would literally never suspect. When it was revealed who Gremory was and how he was able to create Gremoryland is so fucking mind boggling that you would never guess. I had to do a double take. It wasn’t like one of those random characters with a vendetta type of twists, but like one you can pick out from clues throughout the story.

Its so good and twisted and just so worth at least giving it a chance.

-

These were some of my favorite webtoons on the app! Of course it’s not all of them because unfortunately there is a 10 image limit. I also made this because I’ve run out of new webtoons to read and would love if you guys commented some of your own recs. I can also do a part two with other ones I liked if y’all want more recommendations. You guys can even request specific categories like Drama or Sci-Fi and I can tell you my favorite ones from that genre.

Also a reminder - if you disagree with any of my praise of these webtoons be respectful about it. At the end of the day it’s my opinion and you don’t need to be rude when disagreeing with that opinion.

[dreamgirledward]

top 5 favorite usages of music in film or tv, can be needledrops or diegetic sourcing or whatever! 🤪

spider-man into the spider-verse: "what's up danger" in the leap of faith scene. seeing that in theatres for the first time was the first time in a LONG time i actually Felt Something because of a needledrop mixed with how phenomenal the editing is throughout the scene (spider-verse's editing is generally phenomenal but that scene specifically still makes me go crazy)

lord of the rings return of the king: "edge of night" sung by pippin during the battle of osgiliath. this is probably. my favourite use of diegetic music in any film. like of all time. seeing this scene for the first time as a child actually altered my brain chemistry. any lotr fan knows exactly what i mean when i say i still hold my breath every single time i rewatch it. the sound design is INSANE. the reverb on billy boyd's voice actually makes me scream. the editing is NUTS and by nuts i mean it's so clean and EFFECTIVE and timed ABSOLUTELY PERFECTLY. there is so much conveyed without any exposition. the lyrics (implied by pippin to not have anything to do with war, violence or death) are so insanely eerie as you watch faramir ride to what looks like a needless death paired with the animalistic way denethor eats. i could literally write a 10 page paper on this scene ALONE. it's horrifying. it's beautiful. it's haunting. it's perfect.

inside llewyn davis: "fare thee well" scene. i very rarely feel anything when an entire song in a movie (yes even if the movie's a biopic about a musician!) is just performed diegetically without intercutting of anything else but oscar isaac's voice and how intimate the performance feels is so simple and beautiful i think i actually cried the first time i saw it. it really felt like you were in the audience watching him on that little stage. the first time i saw chuck singing it in spn 11x20, i immediately thought of THIS scene and all i wanted to do was rewatch the film just to experience the magic of oscar's performance again.

shrek 2: "funkytown" in the far far away scene. you probably thought i was going to mention all star at some point! syke! and yes, all star IS one of the most iconic needledrops of all time but i wanted to change this up a little because though i grew up in a household that celebrated a huge array of genres, particularly disco and funk thanks to my parents, i am physically incapable of hearing funkytown and not perfectly visualizing this entire scene despite my ability to enjoy music without fully relying on film and tv to discover it 🥲

supernatural: "renegade" in nightshifter. im sorry but i am going to have to be that bitch because this scene! is so hot!!!!! the buildup is SO SATISFYING because the writing in this ep is just THAT good - you dont know exactly what's going to happen when the fbi agents find the boys and the next time you see them, they're knocked out and their uniforms are missing and that alone would have been cool enough if you DIDNT ALSO KNOW THE AGENTS IN THE BACKGROUND SLINKING AROUND THE CORNER TO 'CHECK IF THE COAST IS CLEAR' ARE SAM AND DEAN MAKING THEIR GETAWAY. like if youre seeing nightshifter for the first time you CANT catch it but then something clicks when the music starts up and you see them making their way up the parking lot stairs and it's just SO GOOD. there's just no dialogue until dean lets out a breath and goes "we are so screwed" and then BAM, in comes in the punchy first verse. sexy. perfect. literally who is doing it like the kripke era needledrops

im cheating! but!! HONOURABLE MENTIONS bc i thought of more in the car: "never too late" in spn 13x5 (ep ending), "hoist the colours" potc: at world's end (opening), "when i kissed the teacher" in mamma mia: here we go again (graduation scene), "free bird" in kingsman (church massacre), "rocketman" in rocketman (pool scene), "epiphany" in sweeney todd, "immigrant song" in thor ragnarok (final battle), "you don't own me" in first wives club (both the ending and the scene when diane keaton gets embarrassed and like screams lolol), and lastly a tie between "our prayer" and "high on a rocky ledge" in ofmd bc i cant stop thinking about both those needledrops, which are very small moments but are still sticking with me !

put “top 5” anything in my ask and i will answer ok go

[lihikainanea]

We talk about Tiger becoming insatiable during times of the month, cause hormones are fun. But I definitely think one day Bill is doing something super mundane, but thinks about sex and how much tiger opens up to him, and only him. Images of her in those compromising positions and noises that no one else will experience, it rev’s him up. She’s been small the past few days and his masculine instinct just goes into fucking overdrive. He finds her, asks if he can have some fun with his favorite girl, and basically tries to make her come more than ever before, like over 10 times to the point where she’s crying and speechless.... Okay I’ll leave. 🏃‍♀️

Oh sweet nani, I need to talk about this.

Let’s talk it out. Let’s explore. Hold my hand, I’m scared.

Bill has some household chores he needs to get done, right? Boring shit, repetitive shit, mundane shit. Shit like fixing some leaky pipe underneath the sink or something, It’s taking him forever, and while he’s working his mind kind of gets away on him.

And look, for as much as tiger needs to be small with him sometimes, as much as it fulfills her to insane degrees, as much as she gets out of it--I only sometimes talk about how Bill ALSO needs her to be that way with him, sometimes. Because Bill gets the incredible fulfillment that he needs, and it’s for his provider side. His caretaker side. Tiger being small with him fuels every single raging, masculine, provider fibre that he has in his being and it makes him feel incredible--to dominate her, to give her what she needs, to be the only one who CAN give her what she needs. God, it gets his chest thrumming. Bill needs to feel that control, needs to feel that rush from reducing her to a quivering, mumbling mess, he needs to hear her beg for him, needs to make her feel good. And he needs to take care of her after, to wipe her clean, give her a bath if she can handle it, coax her to eat something, and wrap her up in his arms to fall asleep. He needs to feel her soft breaths on his chest, her mouth sucking on his thumb. When it comes to tiger, Bill has such big provider needs--to just give her everything in a way that nobody else can even come close--and when she’s submissive for him, when she’s small for him and he gets to do that? Man, he’s on level 3000. 

He needs that from her, just as much as she needs it from him.

And to boot--he knows, even with the past guys she’s been with, that she’s never been a sub. They would always talk about their sex lives with an alarming amount of honesty, and Bill knew that before him she had never...been like this. She had never given this much to another partner. Never let anyone do to her the things that she not only lets him do, but begs him to do to her.

So Bill is there, screwing in some nuts and bolts, doing some mundane tasks, and he can’t stop thinking about her. Night after night plays like a reel in his brain, each replay dirtier than the one before. They’ve had so many nights together--some rather vanilla because that’s special too, some mindblowing. Bill thinks of every one of them--the random Tuesday we-haven’t-had-sex-in-a-week-and-we-probably-should night, something boring but then that one time that he pulled his face from her neck to kiss her and she just smiled at him--so softly, so reverently. The nights where he took everything out of her and then some, the ones where she couldn’t even remember her own name by the time he got through with her. Sometimes it was gentle and just a lot, something really intense, and sometimes--when he needed it, when he needed to be selfish--sometimes it was anything but gentle, and she took everything he threw at her. He would be so rough, fueled by her small squeaks and her moans and his primal need to just own her, to possess her, to make her feel the way no other man ever has before. To be the only one she allows to get her into that state. 

And that’s what always gets him, you know? that is his undoing--knowing that nobody else has ever had the privilege of seeing her the way he has. Knowing that nobody else has ever been able to make her feel safe enough so that she can be however she needs to be, for however long she needs to be it--and know that she’s taken care of. She’d be covered in marks by the end--bruises and teeth marks, big red welts from his spanking, and god he’d feel a little guilty every time. He’d feel guilty for being that rough, for being selfish with her, for taking what he so desperately needed--but then she’d whimper, she’d cry for him, reach her shaky hands for his chest and those thoughts would get pushed down in favour of the priority: taking care of her, soothing her, helping take away some of her pain. He’s the only one who ever spanked her, the only one who ever got to see that glorious ass all red with hand prints, the only one who had ever heard her beg for it, the only one who had ever heard her shaky, soft sigh of euphoria after.

So as he’s completing this mundane task, all of it is running through his brain. The first time they ever slept together, and how he’d never felt anything like it. How tight she was, how wet she was for him, everything was just comfort and closeness because they knew each other so well, and genuinely just wanted the other to feel good. He thought about the first time she asked him to spank her, the first time they incorporated that both as punishment and for pleasure. He thought about the first time tiger started to get a bit small with him, a bit submissive, how confused and angry she was that she felt that way, how she tried so hard to fight it--but then he’d wrestle her onto her knees and even she couldn’t deny the immediate sense of calm it gave her. And if it escalated into a spanking, the instant forgiveness, the even-tempered satisfaction it would give her after wasn’t lost on either of them. The first time she actually basked in it--on her back, his thumb in her mouth as he slammed into her and all she could do was beg for more. The first time she allowed herself to indulge in it--after a punishment, a hard spanking and he put her back on her knees in front of him. She nuzzled the front of his jeans softly, whined for him, told him that she wanted to be his good girl.

And it’s him. It’s always been him. Nobody else gets to see her on her back, covered in marks and his come, his thumb in her mouth, while she just thanks him quietly over and over. Nobody else ever got to hear her beg to be a good girl, beg for a spanking to set her straight, beg to have her mouth full just so that she can feel better. Nobody else ever got to take care of her and step in when she was fussy, provide for her, make her feel safe enough that she willingly gave over control to someone she knew would make it better.

Him. Nobody else.

She had been small for a few days for him too, which is just sending him even more into overdrive. He’s gotten to step in and satiate his provider needs, take care of her, make her food, shower with her. She refuses to wear anything other than his shirts, often snatching the one that he wore all day, and wearing it to bed and all of the next day. She’s coming to see him if she needs something, whether it’s more cuddles or to have something in her mouth. Sometimes she’s just sinking to her knees in front of him when he’s working, crawling under the desk and resting her cheek on his knee as he slides his thumb into her mouth.

Bill can’t take it anymore. He feels like a fucking territorial alpha male and he needs it again--he needs her, all of her. He needs to claim her and mark her and possess her in all the selfish ways he knows he doesn’t have to control, because she allows him to release that control. She allows him to exert it over her, because she wants it. She wants it too. She needs it.

He’s already rock hard, his breathing heavy, when he goes to find her. She’s not far--just in the next room. He wanted her close, but didn’t want her to be around any loud noises or clanging or anything that could have ruined the little cocoon of safety and subby feelings she’s been floating in these past few days. And he finds her there in his shirt, curled up on the floor on top of a few cushions, reading her book, chewing on her own thumb.

And for as much as he recognizes when she’s small for him, tiger also recognizes when Bill is pumping with alpha male, protector vibes. He stands impossibly taller. Somehow he just looks bigger, if that’s even possible--his shoulders are broader, his chest puffed out a bit more, there’s a hard set to his jaw. Bill just screams dom in these moments, and god it makes tiger even smaller for him.

He doesn’t even say anything, his chest rising and falling quickly with each breath, and tiger gets onto her feet, walks over to him--and slowly sinks to her knees in front of him.

“My good girl,” he purrs, threading a hand through her hair as he tries to at least keep some of his calm, “Tiger, look at me.”

Her eyes snap to his.

“I need you,” he grits out, “And it probably won’t be gentle.”

She just nods, rubbing her thighs together a little to help ease the delicious knot already set in there. Bill notices, and he’s steadfastly losing control.

“What do you say?”

“Yellow, or red,” she mumbles, “Or harder, daddy.”

“Son of a--” it’s more a roar than anything else, loud and passionate, and then he has her hair in his fist and he’s hauling her to her feet, finding the first surface to slam her down onto.

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

12.what headcanon will you keep implementing in your fics, even if canon ends up contradicting it?

Oh there are plenty that I keep on the back burner.

Membrane’s Grandparents were poor and/or farmers. 

I know in the latest issue it showed scientist parents... But I like to think the smartest man in the world had a more humble upbringing and his Dad had a very strong work ethic. 

The only thing I don’t really like about the Scientist parent idea that the comics showed really DOES mean that they KNEW what Uranium 238 was, knew that their son asked for it, and gave him a never-ending avalanche of socks for Christmas anyways and said it was from “Santa”

Like.... I assume so, Membrane...

Even then, When my parents personally did the Santa thing, Santa would give me the cool gifts, and then the lame gifts like socks were from the parents... 

I can’t help but view the gift of a sock-avalanche from SCIENTIST PARENTS as nothing but an act of mal-intent, even if the issue doesn’t frame it that way.

There’s also the issue of Membrane inheriting Membrane Labs from his parents when their faces are nowhere to be seen if Membrane just took the reigns of an already established company... Sure, maybe his parents made their son the face of their company like some sort of Wendys situation... but Membrane’s ADULT face is what the face of Membrane labs is...  Wouldn’t his parents use his cute child face for a brand? Even if the company had no branding or merch until Membrane took over the company it just leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

I MUCH PREFER the idea that Membrane built Membrane labs as a company from the ground up based entirely on tenacity, spite and his intelligence. 

The idea that the smartest man in the world just was BORN INTO this lifestyle of science puts a VERY sour taste in my mouth..

ESPECIALLY with the other characters in Invader Zim and in Johnen Vasquez work in general. Characters like Zim and Dib always work hard to get to where they want to be... and I like the idea that Membrane is the RESULT of putting in that hard work, but he completely neglected himself on a social and interpersonal relationship level. 

I’m sure the Scientist parents were meant as a joke to further compare to how Membrane and Dib are alike... and the generational cycle of abuse... and the mean-spirited joke of his parents gifting him socks does fit the IZ world... but I don’t like it.

If his parents were POOR or Farmers, or just didn’t have access to or couldn’t afford Uranium 238, THAT MAKES WAY MORE SENSE to me. 

Then it would seem like his parents did it more as a 

“He won’t ask for anything else.”  or “Naughty children only get socks” thing 

rather than a:

“Yeah, we know exactly what that is and have access to it... but our kid could blow his face off, so have a bunch of socks instead ya gremlin” 

I just like to think Membrane’s childhood was fairly humble, and he was a feral scientist child and really bright and his parents didn’t know how to handle him, and He was an extreme Mama’s boy. Also the Poor upbringing would explain his workaholic tendencies without having the Scientist parents. 

Sorry Eric Trueheart, you can pry “Poor upbringing” Membrane from my cold dead hands.

I will take those character designs and that Grandpa Membrane smoked a pipe though. Those are amazing. 

Zim’s Computer (and all other irken Computers) AI Brains used to be living Irkens before getting culled. 

I made an analysis about it on my old account, but I can’t find it cause Tumblr really screwed up the search engine on that account. But anyways... in two more chapters in Tech Support, we’ll get to find out Computer’s “tragic backstory” (tm) Like that chapter is coming after the current one I’m writing. 

Irken blood is Pink

I don’t care if Dark Green blood makes sense from a biological standpoint... I just need Vaperwave and Cyberpunk auestetics. It’s more of a visual thing.

I think Dib has the potential to grow into a real caring young man if he’s properly nurtured and learns how to grow and I possess a strong dislike “loser” Adult Dib.

I’m sure you know what I mean... Crackhead Adult Dib, Feral Adult Dib, Miserable adult Dib...

Nothing against those Dibs... It’s been shown on the record that Dib having a miserable adult future is probably what Johnen wants for his character. (The doodles and streams I’ve seen Johnen draw of his characters as adults as drug addicts or just working dead-end jobs wasn’t enough) 

I even like asshole kid Dib, and asshole teen Dib, but I really want to believe Dib will mellow out a lot when he gets older and learn how to be considerate. 

Maybe I’m being too unrealistic, and I know there is a MAJOR market for Rat-man Miserable Dib in this fandom... I’ve seen like so many versions of him. But it’s not for me.

I think it’s partially because Dib is exactly how I was as a kid, and I grew up to be a pretty mellow and caring person. (for the most part) 

I just want to see Dib to grow up to be chill and mostly happy. 

Zim is the most defective Irken in the history of the Irken Empire. HOWEVER: By human standards, Zim is fairly average, just neurodivergent. 

I know that I’ve seen some analysis on how Zim, “Almost works” and while I do agree, I still think that Zim is the most defective of his species. 

He’s the only one who caused the Control Brains on Judgementia to go insane and he tends to be a pariah and a liability to everyone around him. Caused the death of two Almighty Tallest and a majority of other things that take place throughout the show, comics and deleted episodes alike. The Comics even mentioned that Zim is completely delusional and has some core memory issues.

(I’ve never even explained how Zim perceives the Judgementia arc in my au yet simply cause he doesn’t want to talk about or mention it yet... ) 

But a lot of Zim’s issues or “insane”-ness as the Irken empire sees it are fairly Normal issues for humans. Zim is just marked as the “most” defective simply because a lot of his “symptoms” are actually just very normal autistic or borderline/bipolar things. And that’s probably what he’d get diagnosed with by human standards.

Zim just feels things too strongly and has a terrible delusional memory and obsessively lies to himself to try to fit the mold of what a perfect irken soilder should be (in his mind) 

I have a feeling some of Zim’s PAK errors can be things as simple as: “can’t sit still.” “first words: I love you” , “short attention span” “overly emotional” and that’s marked as major concern to the empire.

But there are more serious ones like “Corrupted Memory drive.” “destructive” “delusional” etc...

But a majority of the list of what makes Zim, Zim are VERY common autism traits...

so if you give him that human diagnosis and then just examine Zim under HUMAN standards....

He’s not that bad at all.... 

Irkens can purr, chitter, and make a variety of sounds very similar to ants chittering combined with a cat. But typically, only defective Irkens seem to make these noises, and my Zim makes more of these noises and reverts to more primitive irken behaviors when he feels he doesn’t need to keep up appearances to be “NORMAL” anymore. In Irken Standards or Human standards. 

Zim is a weird Irken and sometimes things he does is not indicative to how other irkens act or behave, even though Dib uses it as a framework for a lot of his research, but a majority of it is just wrong because it’s Zim. 

THE COMPUTER IS A CHARACTER TOO! LET HIM DO THINGS! EVEN IN THE BACKGROUND OR A SUPPORTING CAST MEMBER... PLEASE... (I will die on this hill) 

GIR is smart and extremely perceptive. Also a hill I die on. I got into this fandom writing a thousand word essay on GIR and I still stand by all those points. GIR is smart... he’s just feral. And GIR can tend to notice things other characters don’t just cause his world-view is so simple. Zim and Dib think like one of those Pipe Windows screen savers... While GIR thinks in a straight line. 

Zim would rather create a maze to go through to get the cheese, rather than GIR who would just not bother with the maze and eat the cheese. 

GIR has great moments of clarity throughout the show, such as in Plauge of Babies and Walk of Doom

“Dib’s seen us before and he knows where we live”

“But if the big splody goes fast, won’t it get all bad?” 

Anyways... I think that’s it... I probably have a whole lot more. But those are my main ones. 

[rightsockjin]

Number 23: Yoongi

Here is Number 23 with Yoongi!  It took a long time together right so I hope y'all enjoy! Looks like RightsockJin is back y'all!

Summary: When soulmates are found to be real, its only a matter of time before Yoongi is paired with his. But all is not perfect and he can't figure why.

Rating: T+

Genre: Fluff a little, angst a little, smut a little...

Warnings: mentions of depression and emptiness. grinding, kissing, destiny.

Send a request!

Prompt list

Yoongi was nervous.

Which was perfectly natural in a situation like this!

How anyone could feel anything other than paralyzing nerves was beyond him but… well he digresses.

He’d arrived much earlier than he had anticipated.

But he blamed that on the nerves once again.

He was scheduled to come into the S.O.-

(Soulmate office)

At around midday and yet, there he had been, bright and early at around six or maybe seven, waiting in his warm car, complete silence in his head and his body buzzing.

Honestly, he hadn’t slept the night before.

How could he when he knew what the next day would be?

He sighed, his head falling to the head rest behind him.

He was so tired.

Somewhere behind the haze of excitement and nervousness, he could tell he was tired.

Maybe he’d crash after everything was said and done.

Though, honestly, he didn’t want that.

He knew he would want to spend time with his person.

Whomever they were.

He should have slept.

In the back of his head, he heard Namjoon’s voice saying “I told you so” in the most maddening way possible.

He shook his head. His heart raced with annoyance.

He hated when Namjoon was right.

And unluckily for him, he was correct often.

He took another look at the clock hoping that somehow, the hours of wait were up.

No.

Still had about an hour and a half to go.

He had done this to himself.

He had no one to blame but himself.

He ran his hands through his hair, completely forgetting that Jimin had done it up earlier and strictly instructed him not to touch it.

His hands froze with his hair knuckle deep into his waxy strands.

His small eyes widened.

Then as quickly as the panic came, it went and he let his fingers finish their path through his hair.

This was his soul mate. They weren’t going to like him any less if his hair was a little messy.

Still, he turned the rearview mirror towards him to check that it wasn't too messy.

He didn’t want his S.O. to think that he was a slob or didn’t care enough to get nice to meet them.

He just hoped that he hadn’t gone too far out of his comfort zone when it came to this.

True, he didn’t dress up often, but he did for special occasions so in a way he would have been lying if he hadn’t dressed up right?

But then what if his person thought that he always dressed like this?

It was equally a lie.

Was he catfishing them?

Too many thoughts ran through his head. He began to miss the empty buzzing that was filling him only minutes before.

It was too much emotion for Yoongi.

Too much to decipher and feel.

He hated feelings.

Well… he hated expressing them.

This was mostly evident in how he had reacted when he told his friends that his S.O. meeting was that day.

Everyone was ecstatic and giving him advice, but he had only shrugged, said he was interested, and tried to change the topic.

Only that he was secretly vibrating on the inside with fear and excitement.

How would his person feel about this?

Would they hate how cold he came off?

Would they be emotional to contrast him?

Or would this person be just like him?

Which did he want?

He wasn’t sure.

In a way, he was grateful that the government had found proof of soulmates.

It took a lot of choices out of his hands.

And Yoongi hated making the wrong choice.

This was preferable to him.

Though he’d spent most of his life opposed to the whole thing, now that it was his turn, he couldn’t help but be optimistic about it.

Gross.

Positivity.

Yoongi’s eyes began to flutter shut.

He shook his head and sat up straighter.

He couldn’t let himself fall asleep.

But the sweet murmur of darkness pulled at his lashes.

He fought with his body to keep himself up but he was past the point of no return.

His head was heavy.

His shoulders were protesting.

His eyes burned.

How attractive could he look with red eyes? He reasoned with himself.

A quick nap wouldn’t hurt.

In fact, it might relieve some of the anxiety that had been bubbling in his chest.

Yeah.

If he set an alarm, then everything should be fine.

Okay, so at first it was cute.

Your soulmate was late to the meeting.

It was something you would have to get used to.

You supposed that this was a good contrast to how on time you always seemed to be.

His tardiness would go well with your incessant need to be early-

As being early is being on time and being on time is being late to you.

-and maybe this would be good for you.

Sure, it was your pet peeve to be kept waiting but a couple of minutes wouldn’t kill you.

But then a couple of minutes stretched into ten then into thirty and now it had been a full hour of you sitting in the hospital-white room with nothing to do but to sit and wait.

They had taken your phone before you entered the room.

They told you it was because there were supposed to be no distractions when you met for the first time.

That was also the reason for the plain rooms with only a table and two cushioned chairs.

So yeah, you had been sitting in a less than comfortable chair staring at a white wall for a whole… fucking… hour.

Were they sure that this was your soulmate?

There is no way that any soulmate of yours would have left you waiting this long.

This was not at all what you had expected.

You thought that it would be perfect.

Somewhat at least.

You thought he would walk in, your eyes would meet, you would… kiss(?) hug(?)... talk and then you would leave the facility with the camera that you knew would be given to you and the journals to document your first couple of months together and everything would be fine and dandy.

Maybe you’d go get some food together or something.

But no.

Your stomach was eating itself, you were bored out of your mind and to top it off, you were starting to doubt that this was your soulmate after all.

What if they couldn’t find your soulmate?

What if they died on the way to the meeting?

What then?

The anger in your system gave way to fear.

What would happen if your soulmate just decided that he didn’t want to meet you?

Maybe he had seen you walking in and decided that he didn’t like what he saw and bolted.

It was possible…

Sadly, you hugged your sleeve covered arms and made to stand.

Had they ever had this happen before?

You were going to ask, not taking well to being humiliated and not wanting to sit for any longer.

But as you pushed your chair back and fought back tears, the only door out of the room burst open.

You jumped back, a hand flew over your heart.

It took you a second to realize what exactly you were looking at.

In the doorway stood an average height man dressed in all black, a smart jacket on his admittedly thick arms.

His face was glossy and he was breathing heavily. He was bracing himself against the door frame and behind him was one of the S.O. workers that had escorted you in, but he looked frazzled and scared.

“Sir we asked you to wait for-” the worker was saying but when your eyes met the man’s, you couldn’t hear a single word.

It was like the world had faded entirely and the white room which had been fuling your insanity melted away and all you could feel was this insatiable want.

This pull from your navel that seemed to lead directly to him.

He was it.

Yoongi knew he had fucked up.

When he had awoken peacefully instead of the jarring awakening he had expected from the loud, obnoxious alarm he had set, he had known he was screwed.

How long had he been out for?

Had he missed his meeting?

No..

No, no, no, no…

He must have woken up before his alarm.

There is no way that his body would betray him like this.

He smiled at himself in the mirror.

He would look down at the clock and of course it would say that there were thirty minutes left for his meeting and he’d have to wait nervously for the rest of the time.

But he knew he was wrong.

It was a feeling in his stomach.

So when he glanced down at the clock and it was an hour after when he was supposed to meet his soulmate, his heart sank.

Still, he froze for a couple a second, not knowing what to do.

Did people often miss their appointments?

What happens now?

Then without a second thought, he threw his door open and ran out of the car.

He clicked his car key over his shoulder hoping that it locked but not caring enough to check.

He ran into the building, the sliding doors only opening a fraction before he squeezed himself through. His heart was beating fast.

He must have looked like a wild animal because the receptionist was looking at him with wide eyes and her arms across her chest.

“Is everything okay, sir?”

“I- I have a meeting- my alarm… I’m late… did I- did I miss it?” he said as he ran over to the desk trying to get his thoughts in line.

“A meeting? Can I have a name? I can check if your S.O. is still in the building.”

He did exactly that, as he tried to catch his breath.

She was too slow.

She was typing almost as slow as was humanly possible(?)

Or maybe it was just that his blood was pumping through his veins at a whole 60 miles an hour.

After( ten, twenty, sixty) a couple of minutes, she smiled and looked up at him.

“Looks like she’s still here. If you will wait for a couple of minutes, I’ll have and escort take you over to the room-”

“Wait no please,” Yoongi interrupted feeling his brain swim with anxiety, “I can’t keep her waiting any longer!”

Her…

His person was a her…

He felt a smile threaten to pull at his lips.

Any bit of information he got felt like he was floating.

He pushed the smile away when he remembered that he probably had already made a hugely bad impression on her as it was.

What an awful way to start a new relationship.

“Don’t worry, he’s on his way to get you. She not far,” the woman continued with an incredibly happy smile, like she was enjoying herself, “she’s right up that hallway in the last room to the-”

Yoongi felt his blood level rise.

“Thank you,” he said before taking off towards the hallway that the receptionist was pointing at.

“No wait! Sir!”

But he wasn’t listening.

He needed to get to her.

As he neared the double doors, he realized that he needed a key for the scanner.

Before he could even think of a solution, one of the doors opened and a man in a button up blue shirt and black slacks walked out.

It looked like the universe was on his side.

He smiled brightly and didn’t hesitate to run straight past the man.

He didn”t even see it coming as he casually ran into his shoulder.

“Sorry!” but he didn’t stop.

“Wa-wait,” the man said, taking off after him but Yoongi wasn’t slowing.

His person was so close. She had waited for him.

She hadn’t left.

He was going to run straight into the room and get on his knees and beg for her forgiveness.

When he neared the end of the hallway, he instantly turned left into the final door and ripped it open.

When Yoongi’s eyes met yours, his heart dropped.

You were the most beautiful human being he had ever set his sight on.

He couldn’t pull his gaze away from you.

He felt drawn magnetically. Like you were two opposite poles and you needed to be together.

And who was he to deny this urge?

The man behind him-

He assumed he was the escort who was coming to get him.

- was saying something or other but his mind was clear of anything but you.

He couldn’t understand any language.

All he could fathom, all that he wanted… was you.

He took a step closer to you, feeling both like it was the hardest thing he had ever done and the most natural one as well.

Each step was more difficult than the last and you weren’t moving which meant he had to do all the work but he didn’t mind.

He knew, the moment he saw you that he would walk over hot coals and needles if he had to just to get to you.

You were watching him move towards you with no apprehension.

You willed him on, feeling the same pressure to move yourself but you felt rooted to your place.

Like if you moved, this spell you were under would be broken.

Mentally, you sent him your strength as if this would somehow help.

Then, he was before you, and you could smell something citrusy and, for lack of a better word, green.

It was intoxicating.

It filled your nostrils entirely.

And you were drowning.

Drowning in a pool of his scent and you didn’t care.

It didn’t matter because he was following you.

He held onto your hands and drowned with a satisfied smile in the scent of your vanilla and lavender perfume.

His mouth salivated.

You smelled good enough to eat.

Good enough that he wanted to lick you clean.

But he was getting ahead of himself.

Way too ahead of himself.

There was plenty of time for thoughts of that sort later.

You had your whole life for that sort of thing.

And where did you start?

How did one start any sort of relationship with their soulmate?

And what type of relationship would it be?

Yoongi supposed he’d have to ask you to find out.

How did one speak again?

You reached out, not baring the small distance you had between you two any longer.

When your hand touched his, a sense of peace washed over you both.

“I- I…” but the scrumptious man before you-

Because come on, he was a full snack.

-was cut off by a voice from behind.

A female voice.

Reluctantly and with great difficulty, you both turned to the voice.

A woman in a lab coat was standing in the doorway seeming peeved.

The escort was standing behind her, a mixture of fear and uncertainty lay in his eyes.

“I’m very sorry to interrupt as usually we don’t want to skew,” she cleared her throat and avoided your eyes, “Soulmates reunions but you have been taking up this room for longer than we usually allow…”

“Oh,” your soulmate said, his voice vibrating through your entire body, “that would be my fault…”

He was soft spoken it seemed.

His voice was like a whisper that caressed your brain.

“Yes, it appears it is. Still, we’re glad that you made it...eventually,” again she avoided looking directly at you two, “but we have another meeting set up in a couple of minutes. If you could pick up your packets at the front desk, that would be great and we expect you back in three months.”

Your soulmate’s fingers webbed their way between your own. A whole zoo of animals stampede in your chest at the gesture.

You gently, awkwardly, squeezed his hand in return.

“We’ll get it on the way… I’m really sorry for taking up so much of your time Dr…”

“Yes well… what’s done is done,” she said, glancing at the man behind her who moved out of her gaze as quickly as he could.

“Please be on time for the next meeting Mr. Min.”

Min.

Last name Min.

“I will.”

The packets in your hands were heavier than you had anticipated.

Yoongi, you had found out his name after you had whispered your own as you made your way, hand in hand to the front desk, was signing a couple of releases that he didn’t bother to read.

It was standard stuff, he’d assured, so it didn’t really matter.

Was he a lawyer?

You didn’t know quite yet but you were excited to find out.

You picked up a pamphlet that was laying on the desk out of curiosity.

It was thin and said in bright yellow letters “What to do Once You’re Not Just You- a guide to you, your soulmate and what comes after”.

Interested, you read through a couple of the points.

Nothing seemed too out of the box.

Mentions of relationships and sex were widely covered which didn’t surprise you.

You wondered how many people just jumped the whole, “get to know you” section and jumped each other’s bones.

You couldn’t blame them.

If anyone had a soulmate as good looking as you did at least…

Though you weren’t keen to skip over everything.

Then something caught your attention at the bottom.

A little asterisk.

*Soulmates can choose to have platonic relationships if wanted. Soulmates don't equal romance.

What?

You had never heard of that little note.

Who would opt out of a romantic relationship with their soulmate?

Who had ever heard of such a thing?

Not you.

Still, a smidgen of fear wormed its way into your heart at the thought that maybe… he would just want to be friends…

“Ready?”

His voice cut through your internal monologue like a knife through butter. His eyes were bright albeit you could make out dark circles under the concealer on his skin.

“Uh… yeah.”

As you walked out, your hand still firmly held in his, he questioned, “Did you drive or…”

“No, I took the bus… I was hoping you would drive.”

Yoongi smiled softly as the sun poked through the clouds of the day.

“Guess you’re lucky that I drove here then.”

Yoongi did not like public displays of affection.

Yoongi did not like hugs.

Yoongi openly scoffed at couples- soulmates or otherwise- that walked around wrapped around each other like octopi.

(Like Joon and his damn soulmate that couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other for one seconds. Or Jimin and Taehyung…)

So when he pulled your entwined fingers up and pulled his arm around your shoulder-

Your sides were flushed against each other.

-He couldn’t tell you what had gotten into him.

Just that the proximity felt...nice…

You cleared your throat trying to keep the heat from your cheeks.

“Ye-yeah.. Lucky.”

In the car, he instantly turned the heating on, though you felt hot enough as it was. You considered asking him to turn it off but it was a cold day and you knew that once your blush calmed down you would be cold.

There was no music playing.

The silence seemed to stretch on.

But, unlike multiple of your other relationships and friendships and relationships that you had experimented with, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was…

It was nice.

You didn’t know what to do.

Should you speak?

Did you dare break this blissful silence?

Or should you wait for him to speak.

Maybe it was your intuition, but you decided not to say a word.

Instead, you looked at the interior of his car and noticed how messy yet neat it seemed.

Like he was actively trying to clean but was too lazy to finish it all the way.

In other partners, perhaps that would annoy you but for some reason, it was endearing.

He cleared his throat. Your head snapped to his profile. His chubby cheeks reflected the light of the day though they were a little red.

He was so pale.

You wondered if he was a homebody then.

“Wou- would it be okay if I took you home?”

In his head, the request was strange. Foreign.

It felt heavy rolling off his lips and instantly, a wave of fear creeped over his head.

Yet, he knew that you wouldn’t take it the wrong way. Of course you wouldn’t. You must be feeling the overwhelming heat that was currently consuming his whole being.

You must feel it too.

So why did he feel so sacred that you would reject him?

“Home?”

A pause.

A sigh.

It was taking everything in him to contain himself.

“My apartment.”

Oh.

Oh…

Already?

He was forward. He didn’t beat around the bush. You added these to the slowly growing list of things that you were learning.

From the nerves on your scalp all the way to the tips of your toes, your blood warmed and rushed.

Suddenly, the car was far too warm.

“Oh-okay yeah… sure. All good. Sounds good, yeah…”

And the only word that came to Yoongi’s mind was-

Adorable.

His apartment was cold.

Grey.

There were a couple of clothes sitting on the kitchen table, folded and ready to be put away but seemingly not ready to be moved just yet. There were a couple of cacti on the window sill, though if you looked closely enough, you would see that they were plastic and kind of stood out from the rest of the cool toned house.

At the corner of his living room, there was a key board.

Some sheet music-

Well… everywhere.

Computers and electronics were scattered around the entire space and some black out curtains kept the room fairly dark.

Yoongi felt a wave of embarrassment cross him as he saw a pair of his boxers on the floor next to the grey couch. If he was lucky, he could steer you away from it.

He could feel your presence close behind him.

His hand sat perfectly held by yours. Your warmth seemed to penetrate deep into his soul.

It was so hot.

So

So

So hot.

Why was he burning up like this?

It was so cold outside that it didn’t make any sense.

But he was burning up.

The fire in his soul was licking at his insides.

He was wearing too much clothing.

He might even be sweating.

You cleared your throat and suddenly (as if he had forgotten) he remembered you were here.

And like a wildfire, his mind lit up with a thought.

An inappropriate thought.

A delicious thought.

But wasn’t it too soon?

Would you think badly of him for suggesting that?

He barely knew your name.

Barely knew how cute you smiled.

How pretty your hair was.

How delicious you smelled…

He turned towards you, letting go of your hand reluctantly and taking your coat for you, then bending down and untying your shoes.

A small smile crossed his face as your curves met his inpatient eyes.

Quickly, he pulled his eyes from your form and focused on taking your shoes.

It was so quiet in the apartment that the pressure seemed to press hard against his ears.

His blood was pounding into his head.

He licked his lips.

He could feel the radiating desire coming off of him in waves.

When he looked up at you, with much struggle on his end, he was met with innocent eyes that hid something a lot less so behind.

Could you feel the pull as well?

It had come to you like a freight train.

Your body was shivering but it wasn’t because you were cold.

On the contrary.

You felt like you might have a fever.

You felt so tense.

All your muscles were constricting.

Weak.

And the solution could only be one thing.

You felt so empty.

So far from your soulmate.

Would he think-

But then he stood and you were looking up at him expectantly.

Your heart sped up.

He leaned close.

You could smell the coffee on his breath and more of that green scent from earlier.

You leaned in a little closer but neither of you want to close the distance.

Somehow you know that as soon as you do, you won’t be able to let go.

You won’t be able to unstick.

Yoongi let out a strained breath and licked his lips once more.

He pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, revealing a row of pretty pearls and a single dangle.

His mouth watered. He was begging to kiss it softly. To whisper.

He wanted to see chills on your arms.

To see your back arch.

“Should I turn on some lights?”

You didn’t know what to answer. Not sure if that would mean that this energy would be broken.

When you didn’t answer, a small, soft smile crossed his doll like lips.

He pulled his hand from your hair, bringing with it the smell of grapes and all things right in the world before he forced himself towards the living room area.

He clicked a button that was hidden by the rug on the floor and on came a string of lights from the ceiling.

A soothing shade of blue lit up at first, then it shifted to an orange, then yellow.

Yoongi clicked on it until he was satisfied.

When he was done, a deep blue lightly illuminated the room. It gave him a halo and the ambience of peace which was the entire opposite of what he was feeling.

With a single gesture, you stepped farther into the apartment.

A smirk crossed his face as he clicked on a speaker.

His usual playlist came on. The popular rap songs of the late 90s filled the room for a second before he changed it to his calming playlist.

Songs that he had composed just to soothe himself on days where he was stressing out too much.

But this time, the music had a different effect.

It was arousing.

Your heart beat a tattoo on your rib cage.

You felt like you were walking willingly into a trap.

This time, when he touched you, you wouldn’t hold back.

And then you were in front of him and without hesitating, he pulled you with him onto the couch.

Your legs were straddled around his lap.

You sat on his knees not wanting to over step.

He held your hands in his, rubbing small circles into the backs.

He was looking up at you, like he couldn’t quite believe that you were there. That you existed.

You smiled softly, awkwardly.

He let out a small chuckle that was more air than anything then let his hands travel up your arms slowly. He touched every inch of skin through your long sleeve shirt he could.

When he reached your shoulders, he let his hands fall to your back.

He drew little shapes into you as he traveled down.

“This is crazy isn’t it?”

You raised an eyebrow.

“What is?”

“This,” he said, his hands at your waist now, “the fact that we finally are here.”

His hands moved sharply down an inch.

“That you’re in my apartment.”

Another inch.

“On me.”

And his hands were at your hips. Roughly, he pulled you closer on his lap.

Your core and his were unbelievably close.

You tried to hold yourself back from rolling your hips.

He was so smug.

Any hint of hesitation was suddenly stripped from him.

You let your hands balance you on his chest.

You could feel his heart beating almost as fast as yours.

They were almost in time.

The lo-fi in the background served as your unifying beat.

Then his smile faded and a bit of worry made it way back onto his face.

“If you want to stop, please say something…”

Your mind was blank.

“Li-like a safe word or???”

Yoongi laughed but there was no humor in it.

“If that’s how you want this to go.”

You didn’t not want this to go that way…

“Pineapple.”

“Pineapple?”

“Yeah… that okay?”

“Do you like...not like pineapple or something?”

“I love it actually.”

“So then why-”

“I just thought it would be obvious enough. We can use something else if you want-”

“No it’s okay!”

This time, you laughed.

“Are you sure?” he asked once you had calmed, but he didn’t really need to.

You pulled yourself the final inch that you needed to for your centers to connect as he spoke and an insatiable hunger filled him to the brim.

His hold on your hips tightened a smidge.

You let yourself fantasize about his fingerprints bruised into your skin so you could show them off to your friends later.

Let your mind wander to what was waiting for you.

What would this be like?

This wasn’t your first time.

There was a brief time in your younger years that you had truly believed that you wouldn’t be one of the people who had a serious soulmate so you had had boyfriends.

One of which led to some exploration of your own.

However, you weren’t sure if he had had any experience.

Would he just know what you wanted?

Was that how this soulmate thing worked?

Before you could dwell much more, Yoongi leaned up towards you again.

It was an invitation.

And it broke you.

The thirst pulled you forward.

Maybe it was a little too hard, because pain shot up your cheek and you knew that your lips would be swollen.

But that didn’t stop you.

Neither did the clang of teeth as you sloppily tried to figure out a rhythm.

Neither of you knew who was leading.

Who was following.

Who should give in.

But you didn’t stop.

As you had guessed before, you couldn’t pull away if you tried.

Your hands were tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to your lips.

You were drowning, drowning…

He pushed your hips into his. He thrust up softly, just to get the feel of you against him.

You were so hot.

He was so hot.

You were burning up.

Too many clothes.

TOO MANY CLOTHES…

He thrust up into your center particularly rough and you moaned.

It felt fantastic. And this was through clothes.

Without asking, you began to unbutton his shirt, but he didn’t stop you.

Instead, his hands traveled up to your back again.

His nimble fingers found the hooks of your bra.

His tongue licked a thin strip across your slightly chapped lips.

You held your breath as he nibbled lightly then began to kiss desperately on your cheeks and your neck.

His left hand was on your jaw, tilting your head away so he could suck at your smooth skin.

Without warning, and with only one hand, he unclasped your bra through the fabric.

You were impressed.

Yoongi was as well. He didn’t know he could do that.

His mouth made loud wet noises that traveled straight to your core.

You finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it apart.

He slipped his hands under your own shirt and, after pulling away for only a nanosecond to give you a questioning look- which you answered with the smallest of nods-, pulled it over your head.

You awkwardly held your bra to your chest, suddenly realizing that you were two seconds away from flashing this man, this stranger.

Your eyes met his.

And all the worries melted, and you let your cover drop.

Why were you so angry?

It had been four weeks since you and Yoongi had first met and everything had been… strange.

After your first night, everything seemed to fall into place but then you guys began to argue.

You felt out of sync.

When he went left, you went right.

When he said up, you said down.

You couldn’t seem to see eye to eye.

Yoongi wondered if this was how it always was.

Namjoon sat before him, along with Taehyung.

Namjoon was sipping on a black coffee.

Taehyung was barefoot and flexing and unflexing his toes.

“Jimin and I are always arguing,” he said, making each of his toes do a small wave. He seemed highly interested in the way they moved.

“Remember the time we fought over the dumplings-”

“We all remember that,” Namjoon said, stopping him in his tracks.

“Well yeah, you guys were there,” he curled his big toe then the next four.

“The point is that we argue often but we always go back to being closer than ever after. Arguments happen.”

“Yeah but you and Jimin aren’t romantic. It's a little different,” Yoongi said.

“Then why am I here?”

“Perspective,” Namjoon interjected, sipping his coffee with a knowing smile.

Yoongi turned to the younger man with hope piling up. If anyone could help him sort out these problems, it would be Namjoon.

“What happens when you and your soulmate argue Namjoon?”

The smile on Namjoon’s thick lips pulled farther.

Something both fond and mischievous in his expression.

“Depends on what we argue about. Usually, we take a five minute break to calm down and sit down to talk about what’s bothering us.”

“Hyung,” Taehyung whined.

“What?”

“I don’t think moaning counts as a language,” he countered.

Namjoon had the decency to blush at the ears but only laughed.

“Just because you don’t speak it doesn’t mean that it isn't a valid form of communication.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“So you fuck the anger out of eachother? How does that solve anything?”

Namjoon shifted awkwardly in his seat.

“Well...when we both,” he cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee, “finish, we usually cuddle or shower together and talk about why we got upset. We’re both more vulnerable that way.”

Yoongi felt his shoulders fall.

This wouldn’t be viable for him and his soulmate.

You always fell asleep after any of those activities.

“But do you argue often,” he asked, trying to get some confirmation that you guys weren’t broken.

“Yes,” Taehyung interrupted loudly.

“No,” Namjoon said, glaring at his friend.

“Then how do you explain the constant communication?”

Namjoon rolled his eyes.

“Sometimes we communicate just for fun Taehyung.”

Taehyung scoffed and went back to his bare toes, alternating their flexing.

“Whatever you say,”

An awkward silence followed in which Yoongi’s heart sank to his stomach.

“Do you guys think it's possible to only bend your fourth toe?”

Namjoon furrowed his brows at the youngest of the group.

“No.”

Taehyung’s shoulders fell.

“Why is Jimin always right?”

You weren’t fighting anymore.

But you weren’t talking a lot in general.

Yoongi wasn’t feeling well.

You could tell.

But you weren’t sure if you were supposed to talk to him or let him have his time.

It had been three months and you had moved in together but you didn’t know if this was the right thing to do.

Something felt really off.

Like he didn’t want to speak to you.

Like you were a burden.

Your anxiety had been acting up a lot lately.

You were terrified that he was going to come home one day and tell you to get out.

Tell you he had never loved you.

That there was a mistake.

But every day he’d come home, kiss your forehead, then walk into his room and sleep.

You were beginning to wonder if he was depressed.

It wouldn’t completely surprise you.

But what did you do then?

Would he want you to ask about it?

You heard the door open.

Yoongi pulled his shoes off by the door like usual.

He slipped off his jacket.

Every hair on your body was standing on end. An energy that you couldn’t place ran like electricity through your limbs.

Every set seemed to charge you further.

It was like when you walked on carpet with socks on and you could feel your hair frizzing.

Closer.

Then you saw him, and your eyes met.

There were tears in his eyes and then you knew.

You just knew.

And you got up and opened your arms.

A tear ran down his round cheeks and he barrelled into your open embrace. He pushed you onto the couch, his body weight heavy on top of you.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck.

Hot tears rushed onto your skin.

He held you close, refusing to let you go.

He didn’t tell you, but he had been so scared that you would leave. That every day, when he came home, your things would be packed, and you would be gone.

His depression had come back worse than ever and it wasn’t helping your relationship.

But every day, you waited for your one kiss, with a warm meal that he never ate and you never once judged.

Strangely enough, he hadn’t felt like he was home until the moment he hugged you.

Six months later and you guys were inseparable.

You had met his friends at some point in those six months and had become fast friends with Namjoon’s S.O.

You both agreed that they were far too touchy and way too cringy.

Namjoon’s hand was always on her leg.

Her back.

Her hands.

She was always leaning into him, kissing him.

She was always smiling like a love sick child when he didn’t notice and he was always returning those looks when she looked away.

You both thanked God that you weren’t that type of couple, but then Namjoon’s S.O. pointed out how you and Yoongi never seemed to be apart if you could help it and how she loved the way he smiled at you when you weren’t looking.

And you blushed.

And then you realized that you were probably just as cringy as they were.

Because you too smiled at him when he wasn’t looking.

And you kissed him when you thought no one was looking.

And you felt like you could read his mind with just one glance.

But you drew the line at matching outfits.

You wouldn’t be that couple.

You would leave that to Joon and his S.O.

For now.

It had been a year.

A whole year that you had spent with the love of your life.

Because yeah.

He was the love of your life.

You were sure of it.

No matter how hard times got, or how ugly you fought, you wanted him.

You were connected to him.

Your red string-

Or as Yoongi liked to think about it, a glowing gold string.

- seemed to tangle more and more as the days passed and you were almost excited to show off how close you had gotten to the S.O.

You were to go in separately, but you didn’t mind.

You were sure that Yoongi and you would give similar answers.

You were extra early today.

Yoongi had insisted since he was so late the last time.

You sat in the waiting room, your hands in one of Yoongi’s.

He drew small circles on your knuckles, kissing them every couple of minutes.

He was nervous.

You could tell, though you weren’t sure that it was due to a soulmate connection.

He was shaking his leg incessantly.

You pulled a hand from his hold and pushed on his leg to bring his attention to it.

He blinked down at your hand then up at your pretty face.

He smiled then crossed his legs.

“It’s going to be okay.”

He nodded.

“Mr. Min?”

You both looked up to see the Dr. from the first time you both were here.

Yoongi swallowed loudly, kissed your cheek then let go of your hand.

“Ready?” The doctor asked.

“Yes,”

When he sat across from the doctor.

There was a tensnes in the air that he couldn’t comprehend.

His lips felt so dry and the separation anxiety was already starting to set in.

The doctor started to ask questions.

Things about his love life.

This about you.

He answered as honestly as he could.

A smile threatened to tug at his lips the entire time.

He could feel something lingering over their heads.

He could tell the doctor had something to say.

It began to eat at him.

The way she skeptically wrote down all his answers on a clipboard.

Her miniscule scoffs.

It wore on his nerves.

What was happening.

Suddenly, she sighed, slouched on the seat and rubbed her temples.

This was it.

“Mr. Min, I am happy to hear that things are going well with you and uh… Ms. Y/L/N, but I am afraid I have some… disturbing news.”

Yoongi held his breath.

What could they possibly tell him in the S.O.?

Did they also know if they were sick or something?

Were you dying?

Was he dying?

“We only waited this long to mention it because that’s how long the effects of the mist last and we wanted to give you the choice to continue or to start this process over. Since you signed the release forms a year ago, you did give us permission to use this incident for our research and while we could just mist you again, we thought you should have the choice since you are the older one.”

Yoongi didn’t understand.

What did any of that mean?

“Incident?”

The doctor sighed again. She seemed to hope that he would just get it, and maybe he did but no… he needed her to state it plainly.

“Mr. Min, the way that this soulmate process works is that we, The S.O., go through birth dates and personalities and match you up with a person who logistically fits well with you. We then set a date for you to meet, where both persons are at legal age. Usually, we try to keep it in the early 20s but sometimes we wait a bit longer to match you up.”

“Your person-”

“Y/N” Yoongi interrupted but the doctor ignored him.

“Was born a couple of years after you so we thought a later union would be favorable. That is why we called you in at the age of 27...and her at the age of 23…”

Something inside of Yoongi broke.

23?

You weren’t 23.

You had just turned 21…

Did that mean…

“When people come into a room, we mist you both with a concentrated form of pheromones that will help you stay together for a year. This gives you time for your natural chemistry to form. We stage this honeymoon phase to make the process easier. These are specifically tailored to both people.

“When you came in late, and ran into a room, you were sprayed with the wrong person’s pheromones. The wrong room.This means that the most likely wore off within a couple of weeks, can you attest to that?”

Yoongi only blinked at the doctor.

Was he understanding correctly?

You weren’t his-

When he didn’t answer, the doctor went on.

“This can be characterized by a period of arguing, feeling distant, deep depression, lack of sex drive amongst other things. Does that help?”

Numbly, Yoongi nodded.

The doctor wrote something down then looked back up.

“Alright. As expected then. Did that ever stop? Did you and Ms. Y/L/N, recover?”

Flashes of steamy nights and cuddle sessions and the many nights that you both stayed up chatting flashed in Yoongi’s mind.

Again he nodded.

The doctor’s eyes widened.

“Interesting.” She wrote some more.

“Well, now I have two options for you. You can continue this process with Ms. Y/L/N,or we can start this process over with the proper person. Your true soulmate. She was sent home that day. We told her that because of a logistical mistake, we had given her a date a year too early.

“She’s here now.”

Yoongi was reeling.

“We have a back up for her if you decide to continue on your current process. Again, this is up to you.”

Yoongi felt his whole body fall. What was he to do?

“So… so Y/N isn’t my soulmate?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

In his mind, the fragile image he had carved of you two together shattered into tiny pieces.

You weren’t his…

His eyes watered.

His soul felt like it was being ripped apart.

He was numb and yet he felt so deeply lost.

A hand was squeezing his heart.

How could this happen?

How could you not be his when…

When he was clearly in love with you.

When your very presence made him feel more yellow than grey.

When your smile gave him butterflies.

When you held him together…

No.

There must have been some mistake.

You had to be his.

“No?”

“I’m very sorry Mr. Min. If you want to meet your true soulmate-”

“How do I know that she actually is my soulmate?”

Tears streamed down his face but there was no emotion on his features.

“You have every right not to believe us. In reality, your soulmate is only so based on our intelligence. In reality Mr. Min, Soulmates are made, not found and that’s what we are doing in this office.”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

“Why are you telling me all of this? You know I could just tell everyone what you just said don’t you?”

The doctor smiled, as if she knew this would come up.

“You signed paper earlier today Mr. Min. One of those was a Non-disclosure agreement. You legally can’t tell anyone what I am saying to you.”

Like a stab to the heart, he realized that he probably wouldn’t be able to tell you either.

“What is your decision?”

When Yoongi walked out, you were waiting for him by the front desk.

A huge smile crossed your face as he neared.

His heart jerked.

How could he live with himself.

He had stolen your happiness.

He was selfish.

You seemed to pick up on it instantly.

Your smile faded as he got closer. You dropped the pen from your hand and opened your arms like you had so many times before when his world had been falling apart, when the image in his head shook violently.

Would you be able to put him back together now?

He leaned down and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist. Your lavender scent filled his nose and fogged his head like a love potion.

He felt his body relax for a second before he remembered that he only had one week to figure out what he wanted to do.

If he wanted you.

The thought of you being pulled from his arms felt almost as painful as cutting an arm off but at the same time...you weren’t his arm.

He had taken you from someone else and now that person was armless.

He gave you one last squeeze and did his best to hide his emotions.

He gave you a small, gummy smile, hoping that you didn’t see the red in his eyes.

“What’s wrong babe?”

He swallowed the emotion that threatened to spew from his lips and cleared his throat. He begged the heavens for a steady voice.

“Nothing.”

“You sure?”

He nodded.

You weren’t convinced, he could tell, but you also dropped it and for that he was grateful.

You finished signing some paperwork, which Yoongi saw, was also an NDA, but you didn’t seem to have read it.

“They mentioned to me that they wanted us back in a week?”

Yoongi’s stomach sank. Had they told you too?

“Ye-yeah.”

“I wonder why,” you said curiously handing the pen back to the woman at the desk.

You took his hand in yours and led him back towards your car.

“They didn’t tell you,” Yoongi questioned letting you take the lead.

“No. just said they needed one more meeting with us.”

You unlocked the car and looked at him over your shoulder.

“Maybe it’s because we’re such a great match.”

And then you winked.

And Yoongi knew then...exactly what he should do.

It was the wednesday after your year check in that Yoongi and yourself were over at Taehyung and Jimin’s place.

Namjoon and his S.O. were also there in matching outfits and sickeningly sweet smiles.

Jin had recently been paired as well and his new S.O. was chatting with Namjoon’s S.O. and you.

Yoongi watched you interact with the group numbly.

He couldn’t let his emotions bubble up to the surface. He couldn’t let you know that something was wrong.

You were so beautiful.

So perfect.

So you…

“Hyung,” Namjoon said, calling his attention back to his friends.

He tore his eyes from you and looked at the taller man, trying to keep his face neutral.

“You’re really quiet today…. Is everything alright?”

No.

“I’m fine. Just sleepy,” Yoongi answered, but the looks he got from his friends were telling enough. He wasn’t doing a good job of hiding his feelings.

“Yoongi, what’s the matter with you,” Jin asked jovially trying to lighten the mood, “You should be happy for your favorite Hyung! Now I get to be a part of S.O. night! Be happy for me!”

Yoongi gave his best smile to his friend, but it fell just short of his eyes.

He was questioning everything.

Was this soulmate even the real thing?

Was Namjoon’s?

Were Jimin and Tae soulmates?

How many mistakes had they made?

“Ouch… are you that sad to have me around,” Jin asked with a chuckle and a hard pat to his back but Yoongi could tell he was worried.

“No hyungie of course not.”

“Then why do you look like someone just farted and you’re the only one that smelled it,” Taehyung asked.

“TaeTae,” Jimin groaned punching him in the shoulder.

Tae smiled his boxy smile but rubbed at the place he was hit.

“Yeah hyung,” Namjoon continued, “You look like you’re having a rough time.”

Yoongi shook his head and rubbed his temples.

“It’s nothing guys. Really, I’m just tired.”

“Don’t lie to us hyung,” Jimins said, “we may not be your S.O. but we all know you well enough to know that something is bothering you.”

Yoongi slumped.

Why did his friends have to know him so well?

He glanced over his shoulder at the girls, the men followed.

When he looked back, all four men looked worried.

“It’s about Y/N?” Jimin asked.

Yoongi didn’t confirm, but he didn’t need to.

“What is it Hyung,” Tae asked, suddenly concerned.

“I can’t really tell you,” Yoongi said, thinking of his NDA.

“Bedroom problems?” Namjoon asked.

“Girl problems,” Jimin stated.

“Can’t get it up,” Jin asked, earning him a swift slap on the back from Yoongi.

“None of that!”

“Then what?” Tae asked.

“We won’t tell!” Jimin said.

Namjoon nodded in agreement and Seokjin crossed his heart.

Still, he couldn’t tell them what the doctor had told him.

But if he just gave them a… hypothetical?

“What if,” he was cut off slightly as the girls laughed from across the room. While they couldn’t hear each other, he lowered his voice and leaned in.

The men around him followed.

“What if… your soulmate wasn’t actually your soulmate? What if you woke up one day and found out that your S.O. isn’t your S.O.?”

Confused and shocked faces met his question and he instantly regretted saying anything.

“Hyung you don’t think that Y/N is your soulmate?” Jimin gasped quietly.

“Shhhhhhh!”

“I’m whispering!”

“Well whisper quieter!”

“More quietly,” Namjoon corrected.

“You know what I mean!”

“Well,” Jin interjected, “Answer the question!”

A small beat followed in which Yoongi pondered his next statement.

“Of course not. I’m just thinking,” he lied.

“What would you guys do, if someone told you today that your S.O. isn’t your S.O.? And that your real S.O. is waiting for you and you have the choice to leave the current partner for the real thing. What would you do?”

The small group exchanged strange looks.

Tae looked at Jimin suspiciously.

“Taehyung this is hypothetical! We are Soulmates!” Jimin scoffed.

“I’m getting in the mind set!”

Jimin rolled his eyes then turned to Yoongi with a grimace.

“How soon can I change?”

Tae frowned, “You’re so mean to me! I was going to say that I wouldn’t trade you!”

“Awe really,” Jimin asked, tears instantly brimming in his pretty eyes.

“Yeah! But now…”

Yoongi rolled his eyes at the two but couldn’t help but smile as he turned his attention to Joon and Jin.

Jin shrugged, “I don’t know. I suppose I’d switch but I feel like you would know if they weren’t your soulmate… when I saw (J/S/N) I could feel it all the way to my core that she was mine.”

“Yeah,” Jimin said, wiping a tear from his puffy cheeks, “As soon as I saw TaeTae I knew I could never again live without him.”

Yoongi’s heart tugged. He knew that this was not a sign of a soulmate as he felt exactly the same way about Y/N, but he wouldn’t say that.

Yoongi turned to Namjoon, who had been eerily quiet this whole time.

There was something in Namjoon’s eyes. A clarity that the other men lacked.

“What about you Joon?”

Namjoon held his chin in his large hand and looked over at the group of giggling girls.

His S.O. was twirling a piece of hair in her hand and blushing.

“I don’t think I would switch.”

“Why not,” Jin questioned, seeming baffled.

Namjoon continued to talk, looking directly at his S.O.

“I love her,” he said simply.

The group waited for him to go on as he usually did but he said nothing more.

Jimin and Jin exchanged a confused look while Namjoon looked at his friend perplexed. Yoongi watched curiously.

“But if she wasn’t your soulmate, wouldn’t you want to… I don't know, meet the real one?”

Namjoon looked over at his girlfriend for a couple more seconds. His lips pulled into a soft, fond smile that reached his chestnut eyes.

Then he looked at Jin, and at Jimin, then Tae, and finally, Yoongi.

“Soul mates aren’t found hyung, they’re made. And even if I were to find out tomorrow that (N/S/N) wasn’t my official soul mate, I think I've made a soul mate in her. I can’t live without her. But more importantly, I don’t want to. As much as the Universe chose her for me, I choose her too. Every day. And I will continue to choose her. As long as she keeps choosing me.”

Then, like a magnet, Namjoon snapped his head to look at the girls once more and this time his S.O. was looking back. A fond smile that matched Joon’s on her painted lips.

With a nod towards the door, Joon stood.

Yoongi watched in surprise. Namjoon’s words seemed to fit his situation a little too well. They were a little too close. Hadn’t the doctor said something similar to him? What did that mean?

“Sorry guys but I think that (N/S/N) and I are going to head out.”

“Already?” Jimin whined.

“Yeah, sorry Jimin but we have a date tonight that I can’t miss.” He winked.

“More communicating?” Taehyung asked, slumping over his arm rest.

“Probably,” Namjoon shrugged as his S.O. came over and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“See you later. And hyung,” Namjoon said directly at Yoongi.

“Keep close the things that make you feel like sunshine.”

With that drop of wisdom, Namjoon and his S.O. said their goodbyes and left.

Yoongi released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Were Namjoon and his soulmate mistakenly matched as well?

But you would never know it by looking at them.

They seemed so perfect together.

“I just have one question,” Jin said, drawing the remaining people’s attention to him, “What the hell does Taehyung mean by communicating?”

Yoongi knew what he wanted.

He had known from the moment he had left the office earlier that week but Namjoon had really put it into perspective for him.

So when he walked into the doctor’s office and he once again was asked a slew of questions, he didn’t flinch.

“So Mr. Min,” the doctor started casually, “Have you made your choice?”

And Yoongi had never been so sure of anything in his life. Your laugh rang in his head and a smile tugged at his baby lips.

“I think I have.”

Master list

[nerdypanda3126]

City of Love – Ch. 7

Tikki talks Marinette into giving Luka another chance, and Sass talks Luka into buying a ring.

Read on Ao3 

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“What do you mean ‘you didn’t say anything?’” Tikki screeched when Marinette told her later that night. 

She was stress baking and Tikki was “helping” by eating the raw cookie dough before Marinette had a chance to turn it into chocolate chip cookies. At the moment, she had a splotch of it on her finger that was threatening to slip off onto the counter, forgotten entirely, as she gaped incredulously at Marinette. 

“I… I couldn’t,” Marinette answered, biting her lip as she realized how awful that sounded. 

“But… he! And you! And—” Tikki gesticulated exasperatedly, throwing the splotch of dough some feet away onto the tile. “He likes you! You like him! I don’t understand the problem!” 

Marinette blushed and stooped to wipe up the stray dough to hide it. “It’s not that I don’t like him,” she started, “he’s cool, and nice, and cute and everything.” Her blush deepened as she thought about the words she was leaving unsaid. Amazing, kind, attentive, honest, smoldering hot, adorable when he was nervous, and probably a great kisser if only—

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. It was better they hadn’t kissed. That would make all of this even more confusing than it already was. 

“So…? Why didn’t you tell him that?” Tikki pressed. 

She sighed and stood, throwing the discarded batter into the trash as she did before she turned to face Tikki again. “Because I’ve been here before, Tikki, falling too fast for someone who has no intention of catching me.” 

“But he’s already there! He’s—” Tikki blew out a huff of breath that rattled the fringes of her bangs. “Marinette. People don’t say things like that unless they’re like… gone. Head over heels, it’s a done deal, no turning back. You know?” She reached in the bowl and grabbed another piece of cookie dough to replace the one she’d lost, spooning it into her mouth before going for another. 

“How could he be ‘head over heels’ for me when he barely even knows me? I barely even know him! This is just all… going so fast.” She fanned herself to hold off the panic that was creeping up her throat. 

Tikki gave Marinette a sympathetic look. “If you think you don’t know him well enough, then maybe you should invite him out somewhere. Give him a chance to get to know you and you a chance to get to know him.” She shrugged. “I’ll go with you, if you want. Moral support.” 

Marinette narrowed her eyes at Tikki. “You just want to see Sass again.” 

Tikki giggled. “Well, I do admit that’d be a bonus.” 

“Where would I even invite him?” 

“You two had fun at the club, didn’t you? Maybe we should go back there.” 

“That doesn’t really help the ‘getting to know him,’ though, it’s too loud for anything but dancing.” 

“And you two did just fine at that,” Tikki said, hiding another giggle with her hand. 

Marinette’s blush flared to life again. She snapped her towel at Tikki right as the oven timer went off and she turned away to pull out the tray of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, breathing in the familiar sugary melted chocolate scent of home and comfort. 

"My dad used to say if you really want to get to know someone, get in the kitchen with them and see if they can take the heat," she mused aloud. 

"That's perfect then!" Tikki chirped, and Marinette had to smack her hand away from the still 200°C cookies before she could snatch one. 

"What's perfect?" 

"Invite him over for dinner, have him help you out a bit, see if he can take the heat."

Marinette didn’t answer as she shoved another tray of cookies in the oven and set her timer. She stared at the backsplash above the stovetop as she thought. Luka in the kitchen with her. It seemed at once the perfect solution and the perfect disaster. Mostly because if she got flustered while she was cooking… 

Sharp knives, hot stove, hotter date… She groaned and let her head fall into her hands. Disaster. She’d spend the night in the hospital is how that would go. She turned to tell Tikki she couldn’t and found her typing away on her phone, smiling down at the screen. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Asking Sass and Luka over for dinner tomorrow.” Tikki didn’t even look up when Marinette let out a strangled squeak.  She pressed send on her phone and set it on the counter as if challenging Marinette to take it back. 

“You—but—I—” Marinette’s words scrambled together in her brain, each protest dying on her lips before it even got started. While she was short-circuiting, she missed it when Tikki shot her hand out to steal a cookie from the tray. 

“You’ll be fine,” Tikki mumbled around molten chocolate, hissing as it stung her fingers. “Just be yourself.” 

***

“You’re kidding me. It took you all of two seconds to announce you’re proposing to the girl, but when it comes to a ring you can’t make a decision?” Luka rolled his eyes and leaned on the pawn shop counter—the third they'd been to that evening—as Sass waffled over every shiny thing in the case. 

“Shut up,” Sass hissed at him, his eyes still glued on the case, flicking back and forth between the limited options. “I want to get this right.” 

“I don’t know why you’re so worried. She’s gonna say yes.” 

“You don’t understand,” Sass muttered back. Then he turned to smirk at Luka. “At least you won’t, until you propose to Marinette.” Luka scowled back at him, but Sass just shrugged and returned to his task coolly. “Might as well get it over with, it’s gonna happen eventually anyways.” 

“How do you figure that, when she all but ran away from me?” 

“You’re so clueless.” 

“Then clue me in, why don’t you? Oh all knowing wise one.” In the process of rolling his eyes again, Luka spotted a small diamond on a delicate silver band tucked into the back corner of the case. “What about that one?” he asked, pointing it out to Sass. 

“Too plain for Tikki,” he answered immediately. His smirk was reflected in the glass. “Perfect for Marinette.”

Before he could help it, Luka’s eyes were drawn back to the small diamond as heat crept up the back of his neck to his ears. He cleared his throat and straightened up, fully aware that Sass’s grin had only grown.

“You know, it would help if you would tell me what you’re looking for,” Luka said when he’d recovered.  

“I’ll know it when I see it.” 

“Right.”

There was a pause between them and Luka’s gaze wandered over to the guitars for sale that were hung up on the other side of the shop. He didn’t need another one. And he didn’t need to buy a ring, despite Sass’s implications. 

He’d screwed everything up. He should’ve done what Sass said and invited Marinette out on a date. But no. He had to go and admit he’d fallen in love with her. What kind of idiot says that after spending a few hours with someone? He raked his hair over his ears, certain they were glowing with how much heat it felt like they were putting off. He’d be lucky if she ever talked to him again, let alone wanted to go out with him. 

On the counter beside him, Sass’s phone chimed. 

“Get that for me, will you?” he asked Luka. “Can I see that one?” He pointed in the case and the attendant helping them jingled his keys as he searched for the right one to unlock the case. 

As Luka reached for Sass’s phone, he caught a glimpse of the ring the attendant was pulling out for Sass. A milky white pearl held in place by gold swirls on each side with a sleek gold band. It looked at once vintage and modern, and Luka instantly pictured it nestled on Tikki’s left hand. He smiled as he checked the message on Sass’s screen, but then his stomach dropped to his toes and his throat went dry. 

T: Dinner tomorrow at Marinette’s? Bring Luka. She’s hopeless. 

She could only mean Marinette. But hopeless? What…? 

His head popped up and he could only gape at Sass. When Sass noticed Luka’s distress, he paused, holding the ring between his fingers, and his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Mutely, Luka handed the phone back to him. When Sass read the message, he just grinned again. 

“Told you,” he said, handing the phone back to Luka. “Text her back and say we’ll be there. And this is the one,” he added to the attendant. “I’ll take it. And he’ll take the silver one.” 

“No, no I won’t,” Luka managed to choke out. The attendant glanced between the two of them, probably trying to decide which one of them to listen to. 

“You don’t have to give it to her tomorrow,” Sass added casually, “but based on your track record, it might be better to be prepared for when it just falls out of your mouth.” 

Luka opened and closed his mouth several times, his arguments dying in the back of his throat each time. How in the world did Sass manage to do that so effectively? Finally, he clenched his teeth and sighed as he nodded to agree. 

The attendant placed both rings in small gift boxes as they paid. When Luka shoved the little package in the pocket of his hoodie, it felt like it dropped like a stone. What was he thinking? This was the stupidest, the most impulsive, the most insane thing he’d ever done. 

But when they opened the door to the shop and Luka caught sight of his bike waiting for them, graced with Marinette’s artwork; when music started flowing through his head unbidden; when his heart started thudding in his ears as a smile broke across his face, he knew he’d never been more sure of anything in his life.

[sierraraeck]

Love Somebody

Spencer x GN!Reader

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: After your big fight, both you and Spencer are filled with guilt. Is there any way to salvage your relationship? Part four.

Category: Angst and fluff.

Warnings: Cussing. References to past fights, and a very brief mention of drug use.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Inspired by the song “Love Somebody” by Maroon 5. If you wanna give that a quick listen, go for it, if not, that’s chill too. Also, I tried to make this gender neutral, but if I did not, please let me know what I need to correct.

Start by talking to Spencer.

You’d been mulling over those five words for days now and it was driving you absolutely insane. The whole reason you wanted to talk to a therapist in the first place was so you could find some peace and be able to focus better at work. Instead, you were even more distracted than you had been before, thinking about all of the different ways that the conversation could go.

Start by talking to Spencer. Oh yeah, sure, I’ll just talk to him. You know, like ‘hey, Spence, remember when you said you never wanted to see me again? Well I’m here now because I wanted to see you and work things out.’ Like what? That was never going to work.

Hey Spencer. I know it’s been a over a month since we talked and we basically broke up and the last thing I said to you was about your drug addiction, but-

Your mind faltered at the thought. It was painful to go back there and remember how cruel you’d been to each other, and then another thought popped into your mind. Is he back on drugs? Oh god, could he be passed out somewhere?

You shot straight out of your chair before thinking through what you were doing. What would you even do if you showed up and he was just fine? Plus, it’d been a month, you were sure his team could handle whatever was going on with him. Then you started wondering how he’d been handling everything. You certainly hoped better than you had. Than you were. Maybe his team would know. You weren’t super close with them, but close enough you could ask them, right? No, definitely not. Actually, now that you were thinking about it, you hadn’t seen any of them for a really long time. Not even accidental run-ins with them coming or going from work or in the break room. You started to wonder what they were up to. What he was up to.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Spencer felt awful. The moment he slammed the door to his own apartment after your big fight he broke down into a heap of tears. So much had happened over the past 13 months, and the full weight of it all was just now coming down on him. He lost Maeve. He found you. He lost you. He lost himself.

Spencer never thought he would say things like that. He never thought that he could be so cruel as to tell the person he loved that he would have rather died for his ex-girlfriend than be with them. Granted, he never thought you would say what you said either, but perhaps he deserved it. He’d treated you poorly leading up to that, and he’s a profiler, it shouldn’t have come as a shock. But it did. Because he was blind. All the pain and trauma and desperate attempts to stitch his life back together using your needle and thread blinded him. He couldn’t see how much you were doing for him and how much you were struggling to keep your relationship together, and he couldn’t force himself to see how much he was struggling to hang on to any semblance of the past. Any semblance of a normal, trauma-free life. He couldn’t see it. He refused to see it. And it cost him.

He took the rest of the week off and then the weekend to himself, fighting a constant battle between feeling pathetic for not being able to go into work like you probably had, and feeling like he made the right choice considering he could barely force himself to eat. He blamed you, he blamed himself, he blamed the whole damn universe for constantly fucking him over. He used Maeve and his social awkwardness and his past as excuses for his behavior, and immediately hated himself for it. He hated himself even more for fantasizing about doing exactly what you’d told him to. He knew who to call, he knew he probably still had a tourniquet around his apartment somewhere, and he knew how much it would hurt you to know that the last thing you said to him came true.

Then I guess you’re real happy you know where to get the drugs that can help you finally do that.

He hated you. No, that wasn’t it. He hated that he drove you to hate him. Did you hate him? He figured you had to after everything he put you through. And for what? So he could feel better after what he’d lost? So he could ignore the grief and the sorrow and bury it in your selfless compassion? So he could, as you said, rip apart your life?

No, that couldn’t be the end. He couldn’t have yanked you from your life for nothing. He had to make it up to you. But he didn’t even know where to start. You probably didn’t even want to see him, let alone give him the air space to explain himself. He deserved as much.

But you didn’t. You didn’t deserve that, he kept repeating to himself. He was going to make it up to you somehow. You were the most important thing in his life, one of the only people who supported him through everything, and he cared about you, more than anything. And he loved you. He would not have the last thing he said to you be ‘fuck you.’ But first, he had to make it through his first day back to work.

No one questioned him. No one said anything about his absence, and he was both grateful and irritated. Grateful that he didn’t have to explain himself, but irritated that it seemed like no one cared. Maybe he’d gotten too used to that, no one seeming to care. Maybe that’s why whenever you asked him how he was doing, and pushed him for more than a simple ‘fine,’ he felt like you were interrogating him. He wasn’t used to having to communicate like that, especially about his feelings, which he’d never been able to communicate well. Not like he’d ever practiced that. Not like dad stuck around long enough to have him practice that. Not like his mother ever noticed or remembered long enough to make him practice that. Not like any of the people he considered family ever pushed him far enough to practice that. The most frustrating part was that even Spencer didn’t know which way he preferred to go about it, talking or not talking. Neither, he supposed.

But, communication is key, something you seemed to understand to a nauseating degree, and a concept his big brain couldn’t seem to wrap around.

He didn’t see you at all that first day. Or that first week. Or that first month. He started wondering if you’d requested a transfer to a different field office, or maybe asked for your old job back. He wouldn’t know either way. He could ask you, but that would require actually talking to you, something he’d been trying to force himself to do for what felt like forever.

The first time anyone actually questioned his behavior was when the team got back from a case and were headed out for drinks. He declined the offer, making up some excuse about a head start on paperwork. The team exchanged some glances before packing into the elevator, leaving him alone with his thoughts, an occasion that was becoming way too frequent for Spencer’s liking.

He’d just started reading through his third file when the sound of the glass doors swinging open caught his attention.

A very colorful Penelope marched over to him in what he thought would be uncomfortably high heels. She grabbed the rolly chair from the desk next to him, rolled it over to his desk, and plopped down right in front of him.

“What is going on with you, my Boy Wonder?” she asked in a soft, yet demanding voice.

Spencer shrugged, “What do you mean?”

Penelope gave him a pointed look. “I thought you and Y/N really liked coming out with us?”

“Not tonight.” Spencer kept his answers short, not wanting to lie to one of his best friends, but also not wanting to get into it.

Penelope reached out for Spencer’s hands which he hadn’t realized were trembling until then. She kept them tightly pressed between her own and looked him straight in the eyes. “I know I’m not a profiler, but it doesn’t take one to know when a friend is hurting. If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. I just want you to know that I’m always here and ready to listen.”

Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling the water brimming at the surface. He nodded at her, and she gave his hands one good squeeze before releasing them. She waited for a few moments longer, hoping that he’d decide to say something but he didn’t.

It wasn’t until she’d almost reached the doors to leave when he called her name. “Penelope?”

She turned around and took a couple steps back toward him. “Yes?”

Then, in one quick motion, he stood up and enveloped her in a hug. Tears were already flowing down his face as Penelope held him as tight as she could, wanting him to know that she was going to support him no matter what. “Shh,” she tried to comfort him, moving her hands in soft strokes up and down his back, “It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not,” Spencer’s voice cracked, “I messed it all up.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Penelope cooed. “Would you tell me about it?”

He told her everything. How you’d gotten the job at the FBI, how you constantly fought, how his mother started getting worse, how you found out about Maeve, and how you’d left each other that last time. He was a blubbering mess spouting about how much he still cared about you and how he’d certainly screwed it up, and Penelope tried to keep her composure, even as she felt all of his pain so deeply. “Nothing is irreparable, Spencer. If you really love Y/N that much, I think you should try to make it work.”

“But I’m not sure if they still love me.”

“I’m willing to bet they do.”

“How can you say that? You didn’t see them the last time we fought. I think I might have really destroyed us.”

“Because I’ve seen the way they look at you. If after everything you’ve been through together, you still feel this strongly for them, I bet they feel just as strongly for you. You know what, I bet Y/N is having all the same thoughts you’re having right now. If you really want to be with them, you should talk to them,” Penelope encouraged.

“What would I even say?”

“Exactly what you said to me.” Spencer gave her a questioning look. “About how much you love and miss them. And how much you want to make it work.”

She gave him a soft smile and he sighed. “You think that will work?”

“I think that it’s the best thing you can do.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

You were sitting in your car outside of Spencer’s apartment trying to talk yourself up. You could do this. You could knock on his door and talk to him like an adult. You could tell him how much you wanted things to work out. This is what you wanted, and even if it went horribly, you knew that it would put your mind more at ease knowing where he stood.

You walked confidently up to his door, but right as you were about to knock, you panicked. God, maybe it was better to just leave things as they were and see if he came to your first. Yes, that was a good plan, you could just wait and see what Spencer wanted.

You hadn’t driven all the way over to his apartment just to chicken out at the door, though. You knew that for better or worse you needed answers, so in a bout of confidence, you knocked on his door. Then you waited. And waited. And waited. After about five minutes, you knocked again, calling his name, but there was no answer.

You let out a sigh of relief. It seemed like a sign from the universe or whatever that this just wasn’t meant to happen. Or maybe Spencer was inside waiting for you to leave, and that would be answer enough. Either way, you only had one place to go from there, and it was back to your apartment. You wished you would have been able to talk to him, but you didn’t want to do it over the phone and you definitely weren’t going to do it at work, so you felt like the opportunity had been missed.

At least, that was your theory as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, nearly getting run over on your way up.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” Spencer exclaimed. Spencer?

“Spencer, what are you doing here?” you asked, taking the final steps up to the landing now that Spencer had moved aside to give you the room.

“Oh, um, I was here because, um, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I-I wanted to apologize. For everything. For the way I handled our last argument, a-all of our arguments, but especially that one. I realized that I had been trying to use you to cover up the grief I was feeling, and I know how wrong of me that was. It wasn’t fair to you, any of it. I know that you know how bad I am at expressing my feelings, and how I’m even worse at talking about them. I’m trying to get better. You don’t owe me anything, and I understand if you don’t want to, but I want to try again. I know it will take a while for you to trust me again, but, Y/N, you make me want to be better. I want to be better for you. You make me feel whole, a-and I know that it’s not fair of me to put that on you either! But it’s true. I love you, and if you’ll have me, I want to try again.”

You stared at him as you tried to process everything he was saying, his demeanor getting more nervous by the second. Then, at the irony of it all, you started laughing. Which was definitely the wrong approach to the situation, but before Spencer could get really uncomfortable, you explained, “I just came from your place to tell you the exact same thing.”

His eyes got wide, and a shy smile crept its way onto Spencer's face. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. I hate fighting with you, and miss being around you. I’ve been driving myself crazy these past few weeks going over and over what I said to you, and I know I can’t take it back, but I want you to know that I regret it, so, so much, Spencer. It wasn’t right of me to expect so much out of you after everything you’d been through. Everything you’re going through. I want to make this work.”

“Me too,” Spencer said with a sheepish smile. “I know that I’ve been trying to make this into our old dynamic, and you were right when you said that we don’t really know each other for who we are now. So I want to start all the way over, if that’s alright with you. I want to get to know Y/N Y/L/N, the successful FBI lawyer, not Y/N Y/L/N the person I used to know from high school.” You nodded your head, a curve to your lips. “Well, then if you don’t mind, I’d like to introduce myself.”

You pressed your lips together, unsuccessfully holding back the small laugh as Spencer walked a few paces from you, just to turn around and walk back toward you. He extended his hand and you reached out to shake it. “Hello. I’m Spencer Reid.”

“Y/N Y/L/N. It’s good to meet you, sir.” You bit your bottom lip, knowing exactly how he’d respond.

“Actually, it’s Doctor.”

You feigned surprise. “Wow, doctor, huh? What do you do, Doctor Spencer Reid? Are you a surgeon of some kind?”

He gave a small laugh, trying to compose himself. “No, actually, I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.”

“That’s impressive. You know, I actually work for the FBI as well.”

“Really?” he asked, eyes going wide.

“Yes. I’m a lawyer, but just recently started working for them. I worked for a successful firm just before this.”

“Wow, that sounds very interesting,” he enthusiastically said, eyes shining. “Now, I’m usually not this bold, but I saw you from over there,” he gestured to the spot behind him he’d just come from, “and I must say that you are very attractive. I would love to take you out for dinner and get to know you better sometime…” he trailed off.

“Sounds amazing Doctor,” you agreed.

As he started idly moving around you to get to the stairs, he said, “Well, it’s been really great meeting you Y/N Y/L/N, the FBI lawyer, and I’m excited to get to know you better.”

“As am I, Doctor Spencer Reid of the BAU,” you grinned. God, you two were so cheesy.

“I hope that I will get a call from you soon,” he mirrored your grin, but his voice was a bit less confident than it was before.

“You might not have to hope for too much longer.”

Spencer tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes wide and sparkling. He looked like your Spencer, the Spencer you’d fallen in love with.

He practically skipped down the steps, pausing only momentarily to glance back up at you. He shook his head in disbelief and smiled to himself as he travelled the rest of the way down, and you looked after him with fondness in your eyes. You’d have to say, this was so much better than all the other times you had to watch Spencer walk away. This time, you were overwhelmed with hope for what this new beginning would mean for your relationship.

A/N 2: This was the fourth and final part of this mini-series! I hope you all enjoyed it, and thanks again to the anons that encouraged me to turn this into the series that I wanted it to be! Much love!

[imaginewarehouse]

Tate Staskiewicz x Reader || Oneshot

Plot: 

Inspired by ‘Something That We’re Not’ by Demi Lovato. Basically, you and Tate hooked up one night… for the second time… and you’re content with that just being a wrap (That’s that! That was good, that’s enough- why push it?). You aren’t a relationship person, you don’t like the commitment. But… Tate has other plans.

Warnings: Hmmm, I don’t think so. Commitment issues?

🔆  🔆  🔆

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Hm?” I look up from my - fucking bottom, - locker and to the table Sarah and Justine are at eating their lunch. Sarah, the talker, is staring at her phone; A deep frown plastered to her lips that causes my eyebrows to knit together in confusion. Justine notices, too, and leans over to see what’s on the phone- and when she does see, her brows promptly shoot up. Oh, boy. That’s not good to see. What’s happened? “Yeah?”

“Did you and Tate really hit it off the other night??”

… w h y? My heart just about stops beating in fear. Why. Why mention Tate. Any mention of a one night stand in that tone is not going to be good. I get up from the floor and rush into the empty seat beside Sarah, looing expectantly for her to explain but she just looks right back. Looking for an answer to her question. “Uhh? Yeah, I guess?? We had a good time. Why! ?” Oh good god, tell me the whole store doesn’t know. What is it?? A video, pictures, a running gag!? Good god, I thought we were beyond slut shaming but I guess not-

Sarah’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Are you dating then, now??”

Now that really causes my heart to feel like it’s skipped a beat. Or two. “What!? No! Why would you say that? It was just sex- Oh.” I look sheepishly to Justine, waiting for the high five or the ‘Heyo!’ that’s classic from her at the word ‘sex’… but receive nothing but an awkward look- her gaze turning to the wall as she takes a nervous sip of her coffee instead of talking. Realisation that this is really not good dawns on me. Jesus christ- Justine skipping the chance to talk sex? Its like a sign of the apocalypse. What’s next? The river Nile turning to blood? “Show me the phone, please.”

Sarah glances at Justine, before letting out a sigh and revealing the screen of her iPhone to me. It’s Tate’s Instagram profile- and it says, ‘In a Relationship’, at the top. I look up, deeply confused to Sarah and Justine.

“It didn’t say that before Saturday night.” Justine explains. The night Tate and I were at the bar and hooked up. “Trust me, I keep a close eye on those kinda status’.” She grins, proudly, before sobering again and adding lowly, “And Tate is pretty anal about how his social media looks, so… “She shrugs, meaningfully. So, he knows that that incriminating, incorrect phrase is printed there in his bio. 

Sarah vocalises my assessment. “We can’t see him putting that kind of thing down willy nilly… Also, it says that on all his other profiles, too. Snap Chat, Twitter, even Facebook.”

“Yeah, and I mean,” Justine’s cute little nose scrunches up and her eyebrows knit together as she looks at Sarah who mouths ‘I know, right?’, back.  “Who even uses Facebook anymore?? Ugh.”  

I’m running through the night in my head, wondering if there was any point that I might have hinted to the pharmacist that I was looking for anything more then casual sex, at all. And I find nothing! I did not treat him any differently to how I would usually treat a person in his position- and that treatment has been carefully strung together and thought out so confusions like this do not occur. And it has nothing to do with us working together, I know that much seeing as Isaac understood just fine!

… well actually, honestly, mayyyybe I shouldn’t have slept with him at all this weekend… seeing as this was not our first time… that might have given him the wrong idea...

But god fucking damn it, Tate’s handsomeness obscured my rational and interesting conversation distracted me. I’m a fucking idiot!

I am not a relationship kinda person! I can’t be in a relationship with, fuck I don’t know… Channing Tatum- much less Tate the Pharmacist! Commitment is not for me; No, no, no-no, no. Fuck, fuck, fuck… I have to talk to Tate.

“I should go talk to him,” I say, excusing myself from the table with a polite smile but freaking out inside as I get out of the chair, kneel down and lock my locker back up, then rush out of the room leaving the girls behind in my dust. As I’m passing Grocery, I’m stopped by Cheyanne and Marcus who have their phones out, and show me a picture of me on Tate’s Twitter w i t h  a  h e a r t emoji and the tag #bae. My eyes bulge nearly out of my head as I look in horror at it over Cheyanne’s shoulder. 

“You know, now that I’m seeing it- you two are a cute couple.” Marcus’ words cause a tsunami in my brain- all the little Inside Out-type emotions are drowning and struggling- and Fear is screaming.

“Yeah you do, but- I didn’t think you ‘did’ commitment, Y/N?” Cheyanne adds, sceptical.

“Uh, I do- “Damn. I slam my mouth shut again. I can’t talk to her about this before I talk to Tate. So instead, I just toothlessly smile, and shrug at the two- For lack of any appropriate words. “Anyway! I gotta go- see y’all later!”

And then I’m off again.

~

I find Tate exactly where, and in what position, I thought he would be; Sitting behind the lonely pharmacy desk with his feet up on the register bench and his nose buried in his phone rather then working. I approach with caution, but confidence also, and knock on the desk surface by his feet to get his attention- and watch his eyes light up when he sees me.

Oh dear god.

“Hey, love bug.” - Oh god, oh god! - “Nice of you to visit me at work!”

Oh… is it? Is it really? Nerves swallow me whole and I nearly shrink back down because to just go with this relationship for the rest of our lives until we get married and have 4 children together and raise them and send them all off to community college instead of having an awkward conversation, sounds really good. How dare he look so soft- this T a t e. Tate is narcissist and an asshole. This isn’t how the world is supposed to work-

“Hey… “My voice cracks like pubescent teenage boy, and I avoid eye contact like a criminal. “Tate, um- So! I think that… maybe, possibly… we might have gotten our signals crossed the other night?”

Tate tilts his head to the side and sets his phone down- all attention on me. “How so?”

“Well,” Why is my voice so high??? I cough into my fist, trying to clear it and return it to its regular register, but fail. The show must go on, though. “Um, I-I was under the impression, that… what we were doing, was, uh… a one-time thing? I guess?” Tate’s eyebrows begin to knit together. “A-and, I think you might have interpreted it a different way?”

“So… you’re saying, that you were just using me, for sex. And somehow that’s my fault?”

My eyes blow wide open and I rush to amend his reiteration as he gets up from his chair and stands, looking down on me now. And… I… oop. That’s just great “No no! Not your fault, at all Tate!! I was just at that bar looking for… err, well, sex! And I thought you were too, but apparently not, and… do you understand?”

“I understand.” For a millisecond, I begin to relax- before Tate’s eyes narrow so much so that they’re nothing but sparkly, black-lashed slits of death. I wish I was at that bar now- I would order a Long Island Iced Tea and black out. “You’re screwing me.”

“What- No!”

“Yes! You want the rig, but not the rest of the machine.” Does he know what a rig is?- Either way, I solemnly, apologetically, shake my head. Well, yes, he’s correct, but I also don’t want to lose the, uh, machine! I really like talking to him when I’m stuck stocking shelves in the pharmacy! I don’t want to lose that? Then, suddenly like the changing wind, Tate’s eyes widen and a ghost of a smirk flickers across his face. “Oh, or- its more than that.” Hold on what. “Cuz Y/N, this isn’t the first time this has happened, you know? The first time, fine. I get it, you need a release. We all do- especially working a lowly job like you do, unlike mine. Heh. But you came back. To me. You could’ve approached anyone else at that bar and gotten the same results… but you came back to this one.”  

Now I narrow my eyes and furrow my brows, leaning back from the self-absorbed chemist. “… what are suggesting, Tate?”

He lets the smirk come out, now, and the only comprehensive thought that passes through my brain is: ‘shittttt’. 

“You just can’t get enough of me.”

“What!?” I gape, jaw dropped. Ridiculous!-

“I’m Y/N-Nip.” Oh sweet jesus. The thought genuinely seems to please him. Of course, it does. Ugh… No way. This cannot be right. I do not want a relationship! No way no how! “So it doesn't really matter if you don’t want me right now- because you will. We both know you will.” 

“I- Tate! You’re cracked!” 

He chuckles, dipping hands into the pockets of his lab coat and shaking his head slowly. “Love you too, babe.” 

“TATE!” 

“Yeah... you keep screaming my name like that. Good practise.” 

“Oh my god!” I exclaim, covering the bottom of my face and closing my eyes, a grin hidden behind my hands at how ridiculous this is. He’s too cute, oh my god! “How have you twisted this, you insane person. I do not have feelings for you!- Well, romantic feelings.” I cross my arms across my chest. “I do not have the romantic feelings, for you. All the feelings that I have for you can be simply summed up by whatever insane, terrible illness that kept putting Lorelai and Christopher together.” 

“Gilmore girls?” He grimaces. 

“Yes.” 

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead and his eyes light up even more, despite his apparent aversion towards my chosen American favourite, and I immediately regret my analogy. “So, you admit there are feelings there?” 

“Yeah- raw, animal sex-drive! That’s it!” I try to explain, looking away to avoid his eyes and feeling my cheeks warm up. 

“But you like talking to me, too, don’t you.” Its not a question, its a statement. He knows! And... it is not totally wrong. I do like to talk to him. He’s a narcissist and he’s smug but I happen to find that funny on all but bad days, and he keeps up with my antics like no one else. But so does Sarah. So does Jonah. So do Mateo and the guy on Echat so charmingly called ‘B1gHairyDucksRunTheW8rld’- long story short; I’m darling and lots of people like to talk to me! 

“Oh, Tate. Since when has an amusement by intelligent conversation been considered a for sure indication of desire for a romantic relationship?” 

“Oh, its not. But combined with the ‘raw, animal sex-drive’ that you so aptly named, it kinda does.” He leans closer a little bit over the desk towards me. “Also, you’ve said my name no less then six times while you’ve been here.” 

I laugh out loud- a definite sense of nervousness laced through the sound. “That means nothing!” 

“No, no-no. It means... “ He raises his eyebrows again at me and sets me with a wise look, like somehow he knows the deep secrets that hide out in the recesses of my mind. “Something.” 

Maybe he’s right.

“No!” 

“Oh, believe what you want, love bug.” 

“This is crazy, Tate. We are not in any kind of relationship and I do not have feelings for you!” 

“So I’ll see you tonight?” 

“No?” 

“My place? 7?” 

“You will not see me tonight!” 

“Do you think you’ll end up staying over? Just because, man of riches and luxury that I am, I need to change the sheets if you are to set the right mood.” 

My jaw drops. He’s lost his mind... and maybe I am too a little bit, because for some reason I’m leaning towards agreeing and going to his place tonight. Is there anything that I can say to him to dissuade him from these delusions of me being in love with him? Because I don’t! 

But... I wont lie. This is the most stimulating conversation I’ve had in forever, it feels good. It always does, with Tate. But again still, I am not commitment girl. He is commitment guy. He may not seem like it, in fact he has the complete guide and tool set to be a grade-A douchebag, but he isn’t and he apparently somehow likes me which is not a horrible feeling and I do not want to let him down. I... really don’t. 

Sighing, I collapse against the register and roll my eyes back. “Tate... I might like you. A lot.” 

“Oh. Shocker.” He rolls his own eyes, pressing some buttons on the register. Oh, he thinks that he’s funny. Hm. 

“... but I want you to hear me now. Okay? Listen.” Thankfully he looks up and focuses on me, blue eyes meeting mine. “I am not relationship compatible. I cant do it. I’ve tried it before and I couldn't hack it. Its not in my genetic make-up!- please don’t push this and make me ruin what we have.” 

He takes a deep breath, and sighs it out... before reaching over and holding my hand on top of the desk. He sets me with a reassuring look. “... I’m a Pharmacist. We don’t ruin things.” 

BONUS: 

“... Jesus Christ you’re self absorbed.” 

“Maybe you can work on that with me at my place at 7. Now I have to get back to work, pharmaceutical business waits for no man.”

“Oh boy.” I’m dating this guy... 

[c-c-cherry]

Hmmmmm... JotaKak headcanons? If you want to, of course, just thought some p3 would be nice. It can be platonic or romantic, whichever you like best!

Yo! I’m such shit at writing shippy stuff so I went down the platonic bro route :)

You can tell I have insane brain rot right now because I went a bit too hard on all of these oops-

I’m so sorry about the last one its too cursed drghkjfhg

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Kakyoin is a very active sleeper.

-You can always catch him moving around, twitching, mumbling, etc…he’s a nightmare to share a bed with

-He can’t control it at all, so Jotaro would pay no mind to it when they had to share rooms and tried to ignore it—until it got progressively worse

-He started to notice when Kakyoin would get nightmares, he wouldn’t be able to wake up from them, he would just keep on thrashing around until someone would shake him awake (which he ends up doing more times that Kak would like to admit)

-He never talks about what they're about but judging on what he says in his sleep, Jotaro has a pretty good idea

-He absolutely cannot be touched when he’s finally awake, so stand hugs become a recurring thing :)

- It gets to a point where Star ends up sitting at the end of Kakyoin’s bed all night just watches him to make him feel safer

-Jotaro claims that he doesn’t have control over Star Platinum’s overprotective nature but that’s not entirely true

Since they’re the only two who speak fluent Japanese, they crack jokes with each other all the time and have little conversations with each other way more than they do with the others.

-Kakyoin spent a pretty long period of time studying English (having no friends will do shit to you,) but Jotaro isn’t as confident with his

-Kakyoin is the only one in the group who knows that Joot isn’t just soft spoken, but instead mega self-conscious about his English

-Does he make Kakyoin order food for him? Yes. Does he make him ask for directions? Yes. Does Kakyoin always tease him about it? Yes.

-Kakyoin makes Jotaro speak only in English an hour before they go to bed to help him learn and he feels so fucking stupid because his pronunciation is awful and he can barely say any shit without his face turning red but he does it anyway because he knows it'll help :)

Jotaro is not emotionless.

-I read in the back of my Stardust manga that Jotaro just bottles up his feelings for the sake of the importance of the mission to defeat DIO and I just- dfkjghsdahfd

-Although Kakyoin just cries freely whenever he feels like it, our boy Joot Doot has alternative outlets

-Shit like crying in the shower, while everyone’s asleep, or outside are stuff he’ll do but only if he’s positive that he’ll be alone

-After a particularly rough fight, they checked into their hotel rooms and while Kakyoin left to go get something to eat, Jotaro just collapses onto his bed and fuckin bawls

-Star is squeezing him so hard and he’s so out of it that he doesn’t even notice Kakyoin walk back into the room and jesus is our boy shocked

-Jotaro braces himself for a round of taunts but instead he just sits down next to him and asks him if he wants to talk about it :’)

-He doesn’t but its always good to have a bro to sit and cry with

After the Death 13 fight, Kakyoin refuses to sleep.

-Fairly enough, he’s worried that he might not wake up again

-He knows he should talk to someone about it, but if he brings up anything that happened in the desert that day, they‘ll just assume he’s lost his mind again

-So he refuses to sleep, instead

-Jotaro starts to notice things when Kakyoin starts looking rough—our boy had the eyebags, the exhausted expression, on-edge demeanor, the whole-ass package— but Kakyoin just dismisses it as nothing

-He decides to wait to go to sleep until Kakyoin closes his eyes first, and when he just doesn’t, he starts to get concerned

-Jotaro finally confronts him about it and Kakyoin gets ready to deny any of his questions, but something inside him snaps and he tells him everything and Jotaro believes him

-Death 13 was the only tarot card they hadn’t fought yet, so why would he lie about that?

-Although he offhandedly refuses to sleep, the next night Jotaro busts in with this giant mug of sleepy tea and makes him drink every last drop in front of him

-Jotaro thought that would convince him to finally close his eyes, but once he feels too tired to keep them open, he starts freaking the fuck out

-The night ends with Star Plat holding him until he’s able to get to sleep (because who wouldn’t feel safe in the warm arms of a purple punch ghost?) and Jotaro making sure that he stayed that way

-His insomnia never fully went away, but he’s got his best homie to help him out whenever sleep ails him :)

Jotaro is actually really insecure about his height.

-It was pretty typical to poke Joot about his height because, well, he’s a 17 year old that already reaches 6’5”

-It was also pretty typical for Joot to pull down his hat and say nothing because that’s how he reacts to everything

-It wasn’t until the two of them were chilling in their hotel rooms one night when Jotaro quietly popped the question: “Do you think I’m too tall?”

-Kak almost laughs at that but when he sees the concerned look on his face, he realizes, oh my god, he’s actually serious

-His mind immediately goes back to all the times that he’s seen Jotaro staring at himself in the mirror, preferring to sit in the back of the car and never walking side-by-side with any of them

-And he suddenly feels really, really bad

-Jotaro doesn’t talk about it much, but Kakyoin knows he feels the worst when Joseph talks about it even though he knows Joseph is probably just proud of the Joestar trait being passed on

-He stops making comments on his height and always makes sure that he’s not seen as some kind of “freak” for something as stupid as his height :)))

They tried to dye Jotaro’s hair once.

-YES this is total crack but here me out

-Kakyoin finds some cheap-ass hair dye in some store or market

-He busts in and before Jotaro can even speak, Kakyoin is already planning how he’s gonna do this

-Joot is completely opposed to the idea, but Kakyoin says he’ll tell Avdol and Polnareff that Jotaro ate the rest of their chocolate (which he did in fact do)

-They grab some bleach, lock their door, and get ready to screw themselves over

-The process goes a little something like this:

“Okay...the bleach is supposed to sting pretty badly...think you’ll be okay?”

“Just shut up and get it over with.”

*starts spreading bleach*

“ORAAAAA—”

-Turns out that despite punching the shit out of people being his job description, Jotaro has the most sensitive scalp on the planet

-Star Platinum is freaking out, grabbing his hair with one hand and trying to find shit to throw with the other, and Jotaro is sitting there with this blank, lifeless stare

“I’m guessing it hurts?”

“...”

“...”

“...yeah.”

-Is Jotaro starting to freak out a bit? Maybe. Do they stop now...?

-They don’t really have a choice because Star just demolished the hotel alarm clock

-They started right in the middle of his head, and when Jotaro looks in the mirror he sees this patch of blond right in the dead centre of his scalp and lets out this bewildered and devastating yelp

-Kakyoin get’s this awful feeling in his stomach they had just royally fucked up, and when it still stays there after they try to wash it out he knows they did an oopsie

-Joot is just standing there in shock and Star starts trying to rip out his own hair and Kakyoin is praying to god that they don’t wake up the others

-They end up just saying fuck it and putting in the dye anyway because he can’t just have a blond spot for the rest of the trip

-The stuff Kakyoin picked out was actually a shade of purple so dark that it almost looks black and it actually works out almost perfectly

-Most of it is covered up by his hat but there’s a little streak that pokes out into the open and it glows in the sun :)

-No one knows about this and no one even NOTICES until they get back from Egypt and Holly is like “YOU DYED YOUR HAIR?! IT LOOKS SO CUTE!” and at this point Jotaro has just completely stopped caring about it because it was weeks ago and gives them this deadass “yep” and walks out of the room

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

hggggnnnnn here’s some feral head canons for y’all, I hope you're having a nice Wednesday! If you have any questions/requests/vibes, you know where to find me :)

[gureishi]

day 4: first time in the longest time

Here’s day 4 of the Human Again prompts. For the master list of all the ficlets, click here.

SaeyoungXReader, T (innuendo and general flirty shenanigans), words: 1790

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

You can’t sit still. 

The hotel room is excessively large—more of a suite, really, with its own little dining nook nestled against a bay window. It’s objectively larger and nicer than anywhere else you’ve lived recently—or maybe ever. But it’s still very much a hotel.

When was the last time I stayed somewhere that felt like home?

You pace the perimeter of the room several times. You sit on the bed, stand again, smooth out the wrinkles in the blanket. You go to the window, open the curtains, look out, close the curtains.

You wonder how much time has passed. You check your phone. Ugh. Three minutes.

Perching on the edge of one of the chairs, you stare at nothing, trying not to chew your nails or look at your phone again.

Any minute now.

The last time you saw him was breathless, desperate, fleeting. He came unexpectedly, early in the morning, and he didn’t tell you what he was planning to do, but of course you knew.

“We might not get to see each other for a while,” he said then.

“It’s okay,” you responded, because what else were you supposed to say? You kissed him hard, and he kissed you back like he was trying to absorb you.

It feels like forever ago.

Thanks to Jumin, you’ve been living in this almost uncomfortably lavish hotel instead of the apartment, which—though now free of bombs—is full of confusing memories.

And the hotel really is nice. The rest of the RFA has been coming to see you. Things are peaceful. But…

But you’ve been going, going, going for so long that the idleness feels unsettling. And you’ve missed him. Oh, how you’ve missed him.

He’s protecting everyone, as always—keeping Saeran safe from the emotional burden of seeing you, keeping you safe from whatever danger Saeran still presents to you. He calls a lot, sometimes in the middle of the night. But you’ve gotten so used to feeling his body curled against yours at night, and the hotel bed feels gigantic. You keep thinking you see his reflection in the windows.

Your phone buzzes in your hand, and you promptly drop it. 

“Here,” his text says, followed by a string of hearts.

You trip over yourself trying to get out of the chair and can’t help but laugh. You can only imagine what you look like, hopping on one foot as you try to get on your other shoe, stuff both arms into your coat, and grab your bag all at the same time.

The trip downstairs in the elevator (packed with people in suits—Jumin did pick this hotel, after all) feels like it takes an eternity. You force yourself to cross the lobby at a measured pace and push open the heavy door to the outside. You scan the street and, amidst all the taxis and black luxury cars, there is his insane souped-up silver Lamborghini.

You take a few careful steps and then think, oh, screw it, and break into a run. The driver’s-side door opens and you catch a momentary glimpse of his mop of red hair before you catapult yourself into his arms.

He laughs gleefully, and the familiar sound fills you up like a warm drink. He easily scoops you up and you wrap your legs around his waist and bury your head in his shoulder.

“Hi,” he murmurs into your hair.

“Mmph,” you say in response, your mouth pressed against his neck. You drink in the scent of honey and salt and that special sweet-spicy aroma that isn’t anything in particular, just Saeyoung scent.

He giggles and, one arm around your waist, nudges your face up with his other hand. He’s got on some unnecessarily fancy sunglasses, which you push up on top of his head before pressing your lips firmly against his.

He kisses you back fervently, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist and pulling you into him; your feet still haven’t touched the ground. You part your lips the tiniest bit and he bites your bottom lip, tugging it with his teeth. Your heart does a somersault.

Finally, you pull away to catch your breath and take him in: his cheeks are pink and he’s got this hazy look in his eyes, like he doesn’t quite know where he is. You know the feeling.

Saeyoung lets you down, giving your thighs a tight squeeze as you slide out of his arms and onto the sidewalk.

“Miss me?” he asks, flashing you a brilliant smile.

You smack his arm. “What do you think?

“I think you missed your God Seven soooo much,” he sings, bending over to kiss the tip of your nose. “What’s a poor girl to do without her Defender of Justice at her beck and call?”

“Slowly disintegrate into a pile of goo,” you say seriously, holding onto his hoodie strings. He nods sagely.

“A common side effect,” he replies, his hands skating over your hips.

“Mmmm.” You close your eyes and lean in for another kiss and he meets you eagerly, pulling you into his chest with both hands on your waist.

It’s easy to get lost in him. Everything about him is intoxicating to you��his scent and his grip on your waist and the concrete evidence that he’s real and he’s here and he’s holding you.

Loud honking breaks the spell, and you reluctantly pull away, panting.

“Awww,” Saeyoung whines, gazing down at you. “I could make out with you in the street all day.”

“We can make out any day, anywhere, babe,” you respond, casting a self-conscious glance around you. There are a lot of people here.

Saeyoung leans down, and you automatically rise to your tiptoes, expecting another kiss. Instead, he nuzzles your ear with his nose. “I’m gonna hold you to that,” he whispers. Then he bites your earlobe.

You squirm, your body responding instantly. Heat pools in your belly, and you relinquish your self-restraint, reaching for him. He grins wickedly and dodges you, skipping around the car to hold open the passenger-side door.

“Patience, my darling,” he sings, and you want to smack him again or possibly tackle him to the ground right there.

Instead, you follow him around and slide into the polished leather seat as gracefully as you can.

“You better drive fast,” you say, and his face breaks into a wide grin.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Saeyoung drives on the highway one-handed, his other hand resting on your thigh. He plays the radio loud and sings along, and you watch the particular way the afternoon sun hits his jawline.

“It feels kind of nostalgic, being in the car with you,” you say, leaning back into the sun-warmed leather.

“I was thinking that too,” he says, squeezing your leg.

You reach over and brush a stray curl from his forehead.

“I really, really, really missed you,” you say.

He swallows. He keeps his eyes on the road, but you can practically see the thoughts buzzing around in his brain. “I don’t wanna ever be apart again,” he says firmly. “Is that okay?”

Easy question. “Yes.”

He beams. “I mean it.” He wiggles his eyebrows, which makes you laugh.

“Even when I’m going to the bathroom?” you ask.

“Yep, even then,” he says.

“What if I’m doing my taxes?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Clipping my toenails?”

“Clearly a group activity.”

“Um, doing laundry?”

“I’ll be on the other side of the room, but I’ll be watching.”

You laugh, shaking your head.

“I like this idea,” you say. “But Saeyoung, I’m going to have to go back to the hotel at some point, you know.”

He glances at you, and there’s a complicated look in his eyes.

“Why?” he asks.

“Um.” What? “Well, I don’t actually have another place that I’m living, you know. And I can’t exactly just stay at your house forever. Saeran—”

“May not be ready for that yet, I know,” Saeyoung says. His fingers restlessly tap against the steering wheel. “But he’ll get to know you. And I—I mean, eventually, I—” Tap. Tap. Tap. “Would you want to—” He cuts himself off, groaning in frustration. “Never mind! I didn’t mean to bring this up while I was driving. Let’s just…can you forget I said anything?”

“You haven’t really said anything yet, babe.” You toy with the cuff of his sweatshirt. You’re fiddlers, both of you. More so when you’re nervous.

“Can we please talk about it later?”

You sigh. “I kind of want to know what you were going to say now.”

Tap tap tap. Saeyoung takes a deep breath, and his grip on your leg tightens. 

“Okay. So, listen. You and Saeran need to get to know each other, and I don’t know how long that will take. But he’s ready to try, and I—I’d really like it if—what I mean is, in a little while…would you want to move in? Uh. With us?”

Oh my god.

It’s not like his awkward preamble wasn’t a bit of a tip-off. But, given everything, you haven’t even allowed yourself to fantasize about this. You’ve gotten somewhat accustomed to your reality, never quite settling in anywhere. Recently, you’d felt that you’d feel at home anywhere (a car, a cabin, a campsite) as long as you were with him.

You hadn’t thought, yet, about what it would be like to actually have a home with him.

“Um. What do you think?” Saeyoung peers at you out of the corner of his eye.

Another easy question. Way too easy.

“Of course I wanna live with you, dummy,” you say, grinning.

“Really?! I wouldn’t live with me if I were you!” He talks fast, stumbling over his words. “I live in a super high security bunker. It doesn’t even have windows! I have really weird decorations. I’m messy! I don’t sleep at normal times. I have terrible eating habits! I even—”

You cut him off, reaching over to place a finger on his lips.

“It’s approximately two minutes too late to change my mind,” you say.

“Thank god,” he says, sighing. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you’d said no.” Then he bites your finger.

You yelp, and he cackles, effortlessly guiding the car off the freeway and onto a tree-lined road.

“It still might be a little while,” he cautions. “Saeran’s doing really well, but still—”

“I know.”

“If it were up to me, you’d move in today.”

You giggle. “Me too.”

Saeyoung’s fingers dance over your thigh. “You really want to—?”

“Saeyoung.” You put on your sternest voice, and he quiets. His lips twitch—he’s trying not to smile. “Please take me home.”

[taizi]

it’s a better place since you came along

the adventure zone taako & angus mcdonald 7k words

read on ao3

“So, you must be here about the job,” the old man goes on. “To tell you the truth, I’d just about given up on finding a decent nanny. When can you start?”

Taako stares at him. There’s an alarm klaxon blaring in the back of his brain, along with a shrill inner voice advising him to “abort, motherfucker, abort!”

***

In which Taako answers a general “help wanted” ad that actually changes his entire stupid life.

x

There’s a baby crying somewhere.

Taako, left waiting in the foyer by a harried maid, has nothing else to do but tap a foot, twist one of the rings on one of his fingers, and count the long seconds that the plaintive wail continues to echo through the cavernous house.

Listen, he may not be a very good dude, just in general, and for a healthy plethora of reasons—but there’s a prickling sense of unease growing in the pit of his stomach, as one minute passes into two, and the sounds of distress go unheeded.

What in the fresh fuck, he thinks, when another member of the house staff drifts through the room without any sense of urgency. If he knew shit about magic beyond a few travel-handy tricks and the occasional intuitive transmutation, he’d assume this was some sort of elaborate illusion. Maybe a sort of test played on unsuspecting hopefuls who came to answer the help-wanted ad.

Unfortunately for Taako, he remembers all-too well what it feels like to be an unwanted child, outcast and always alone. As it turns out, he has a very particular Achilles’ heel and he’s not overly thrilled to discover it.

“Well, I didn’t need the job that bad,” he tells himself, as he gets up to single-mindedly fail this stupid test. And nevermind that he kind of really did.

‘Confidence is key’ and ‘fake it till you make it’ are two mantras that Taako could live and die by, so it’s with long, unchecked strides that he crosses the grand foyer and chases the miserable cries up some stairs, down a long corridor, and finally into an out-of-the-way bedchamber at what must have been the back of the house.

The cries stutter when the door clicks open, and Taako gets a glimpse of a tiny round face peering at him through the bars of an ancient-looking crib. The sudden appearance of this strange elf in his nursery seems to have surprised the little human, but not for long. After about two seconds, he screws his face up and screams with renewed vindication.

Taako winces, his sensitive ears twitching back at the onslaught. This is way above his paygrade, but he used to babysit younger kids in the caravans while their parents were busy or drunk, in exchange for a hot meal or a few coins. He’s not totally out of his depth here.

“Hey, little man,” he says by way of hello. “Trying to bring the roof down, huh? No, I dig that. I wasn’t gonna say anything, but this house of yours is ugly as hell.”

Taako doesn’t raise his voice, because what the hell would be the point? There’s no way he’s winning that contest of wills, and nobody wants some lunatic shouting at them when they’re this fucking distraught, anyway. He just crosses his arms on the side of the crib and leans down to get a good look at the kid.

The baby’s face is tacky and snotty, dusky skin flushed darker with exertion, curly hair a tangled mop. But he’s a cute little guy despite himself, probably a year old or thereabouts, not that Taako is in any way a decent judge of that sort of thing. As Taako talks to him in a conversational tone, his awful, heaving sobs peter out.

The tearful gulps are better. The way he lifts pudgy arms up to be held, not so much.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Taako says, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder. “I’m not even supposed to be in here. You have no idea how culturally insensitive people are when it comes to elves and babies. Your mama walks in and sees me holding you, and then she’s calling the guard, and I’m getting hauled off for attempting to spirit her little heir away, and we both perpetuate an archaic myth that all elves are equally capable of and greedy for voluntary childcare. Let me just say—from personal experience—that is not the fuckin' case.”

But he reaches a hand into the crib and lets the little human clutch at it. Tiny, clumsy fingers wrap around Taako’s much bigger ones and hold tight. The baby’s eyes are wide and curious now, soaking up Taako’s every word without a damn clue what any of them mean.

Taako almost forgot he knew how to do this. It’s been months since Glamour Springs, since Sazed ditched him on the road. Taako’s been living a half-life, made up of odd jobs and never staying for too long in any one place, and for all that it’s absurdly one-sided, this is the longest conversation he’s had since then, too.

“One of us is pretty fucking pathetic,” he confides. “And it’s not the screamy baby.”

“Ah, this is where you’ve gone,” a voice from the doorway says.

Taako jumps in alarm, and looks around in time to watch a man step into the nursery. He bears a striking resemblance to the baby in the crib, though he’s graying at the temples and his face is lined with too much age for him to be an immediate parent. Grandparent, probably. Distinguished, dressed in a suit that probably cost more than the entire cumulative worth of everything Taako currently owns, leaning heavily on a walking cane.

He doesn’t look as though he’s about to ring the alarm, but Taako is still a little keyed up. Given the way he’s been living, the feeling of getting caught, even for a moment, activates his fight or flight response.

“Sorry,” Taako says lamely. “I heard him crying.”

“I don’t doubt it. His parents, my daughter and her husband, died recently. An accident on the road,” the man says. There’s some sorrow there, but it’s pushed back and away. Compartmentalized. “He came to live with me, but the transition hasn’t been an easy one. It seems as though all he’s done is cry.”

Taako doesn’t melt even slightly for the poor kid, because he’s made of sterner stuff than that. But he does let him hold onto his hand for a little while longer. It’s not hurting anything.

“So, you must be here about the job,” the old man goes on. “To tell you the truth, I’d just about given up on finding a decent nanny. When can you start?”

Taako stares at him. There’s an alarm klaxon blaring in the back of his brain, along with a shrill inner voice advising him to “abort, motherfucker, abort!”

It wasn’t a nanny ad. It was just a ‘general help wanted in exchange for room and board’ type of deal. He wouldn’t have shown up to take the job in the first place if it had specified providing 1) cooking, 2) companionship, or 3) childcare, and that’s for damn sure. He believes in playing to his strengths, and while vapid charm is certainly one of them, being personable and likable for any extended period of time is not.

And Taako absolutely doesn’t know what to think of this old rich guy who seems to be operating under the illusion that thirty seconds is plenty of time to get enough of a read on some rando to then trust your child to them. For real, and from the bottom of Taako's heart, what the fuck?

He’s only been acquainted with this particular child for about five minutes, but his ears go back and his hackles go up at the idea of someone just walking in off the street to take charge of him.

Maybe there’s some crucial insanity element to parenthood that Taako just isn’t fucking picking up. Maybe total and complete willingness to just ditch your kid at a moment’s notice is part of the package. Sure would explain a few things about Taako’s childhood.

But… this old manor house is clearly in the middle of nowhere. Two hours from the nearest settlement, where the job posting was hiding beneath other flyers on the board in the square. Taako wandered the woods all afternoon and almost gave up finding the place before the chimney smoke tipped him off.

It’s remote. Safe. And, at a glance, more comfortable than any of the inns and caravans Taako has lived out of since his auntie died.

He’s not qualified for this position, but since when has that ever stopped him? It’s not like he went to culinary school, either, and for awhile he was one of the most famous chefs on the continent. A baby can't be that much work.

Fake it till you make it, he thinks, and then faces the old man with a smile.

“Hell, I’m already here. Might as well start now.”

#

Aside from Taako, there are three other members of staff on the books, and none of them are full-time. The maids come in every other day to do the cleaning and the laundry and bring in groceries, that sort of thing. The groundskeeper only works the weekends.

They like Mr McDonald well enough, the girls confide in Taako over tea on his first night there, and the pay isn’t bad, but he’s forgetful. Doesn’t think to eat until he feels hunger pains, that sort of thing. Don’t be surprised if you get paid twice some weeks, or not at all others.

“He’s just not interested in running a household, I think,” the older of the two imparts, ancient at seventeen for all the weariness in her eyes. “I’m glad he finally found someone to take care of the baby. I felt bad about him crying all the time.”

Baby Angus had seemed to surprise both teens by being agreeable and downright adorable, perfectly content to be tucked into the crook of Taako’s arm and soothed to sleep by the rumble of his voice.

Did any of you try, like, holding him? Taako wants to ask acidly. Seems a little fucked up that Taako, of all people, is more on top of this than anyone else. But the maids are little more than kids themselves, and it seems as though grandpa isn’t completely with it.

About a month after Taako first wandered in, grandpa proves it.

“It was before Angus was born,” Mr McDonald says, digging through the many drawers in his study, looking for some expensive rich person thing he’d acquired at auction four years ago. There’s an empty crystal tumbler sitting on the liquor cabinet, next to a half-empty decanter of whiskey. “We went to Goldcliff for a charity fundraiser. Marquis proposed to my daughter that night. You remember, Taako?”

Taako, halfheartedly poking through stuff on the desk while Angus chews on the end of his braid, replies, “Sure do, homie. Hell of a party.”

He finds a photo in a stack of letters and pauses. Two humans are pictured with their arms around each other, handsome smiles on their faces for the camera, a baby cradled tenderly between them.

At the bottom, in looping handwriting, someone wrote ‘Marquis, Angela, and Angus.’ There’s a little heart drawn under the names with such care that it, in itself, is something of a revelation.

Angus’ parents wouldn’t have let him cry himself sick in a faraway room. They wouldn’t have let some stranger be holding him now. They abandoned him, but not on purpose. Not the same way Taako’s family did.

This kid was loved. He’s due love. And all he has is an absent grandpa and a shitty elf looking after him.

“Check it out, Ango,” Taako says quietly, holding the photo up so the baby can see, carefully out of reach of those sticky fingers. “Your genes are killer. You’re gonna outshine the whole damn world.”

He pockets the photo with a sleight of hand he perfected at ten years old, and then guts some ugly painting in the service hallway in the name of repurposing the frame, and then he and Angus stage a tactical retreat.

The nursery was too depressing, just in general, so one of Taako’s first acts as nanny was to move all the baby stuff in with his. He had his pick of any of the second floor bedchambers, and he chose one overlooking the overgrown gardens, with a pretty bay window that it only took like two hours and a handful of stubborn Prestidigitations to scrub clean.

He enlarges the photo, slides it into the frame, transmutes it to look like a more professional job, and then sets it in place of pride on one of the empty shelves.

“Gang’s all here,” he says. He bounces Angus a few times, eliciting a toothy smile from the kid.

Lordy, Taako thinks, she’d be laughing her ass off if she could see me right now.

The thought comes out of absolutely nowhere and disappears just as quickly, sliding right out of his mind like water through a sieve. Then Angus makes a sudden dive to grab one of the charms hanging off the brim of Taako’s hat, and he has more immediate things to worry about.  

#

Living in a house is weird. Having the run of the place is even weirder.

Taako is certainly not the type to sign up for extra responsibility, and he’d be the first to say as much to literally anyone who asked. Keeping himself alive has always been trouble enough, and now he has a whole ass extra person he’s in charge of, too.

But as time drags on, he realizes he’s been pretty solidly assimilated.

When McDonald forgets to give Catherine the grocery allowance before he fucks off on one of his bi-monthly business trips to Neverwinter, Taako forks over his own gold without feeling the sting of it too badly. He practically writes his own checks around here, anyway. He can make up the difference whenever.

When crotchety old Boniface came in from the gardens looking for an answer about the freshly broken fountain, he bypasses McDonald’s closed office door entirely to demand guidance out of Taako instead. Taako is in the library, laying on his stomach to supervise Angus’ painstaking and artistic destruction of a probably priceless but unfortunately racist oral history Taako found on one of the shelves, and gives Boniface the go-ahead to gut the old eyesore.

“If it dies, it dies,” Taako says plainly, passing Angus a new red crayon. Boniface, pleased that he’s allowed to demolish something, makes it a point to ask Taako about these things first from then on.

When Ezra shows up in Taako’s suite one morning with tearful eyes and an ugly burn from the temperamental furnace in the basement, neither of them stop to question why she ran all the way up here. They’re both reasonably intelligent people, after all, and Taako is quick to cast a nonverbal Helping Hand. He doesn’t need to overthink it. The burned skin on Ezra’s arm is shiny and red, but repaired.

The girl surges forward to hug him, visibly rethinks it, and then changes course and scoops Angus up for a hug and a noisy kiss on the cheek instead. Angus shrieks in bald delight, and Taako finds himself smiling.

So, yeah. It’s weird, the whole thing is weird, but he wouldn’t say it’s bad.

McDonald is a kind but largely absent presence in their lives. When he’s home, he’s shut up in his study. Angus hardly seems to recognize the man anymore, only watching him with solemn brown eyes from the comforting circle of Taako’s arms. It doesn’t really sit well with Taako—he didn’t take this job to upstage any relatives or be a replacement parent—but he’s already nanny to a precocious two-year-old, he can’t also be nanny to a seventy-something-year-old retired scholar. If McDonald wants to be a part of Angus’ life, that’s on him. It can’t possibly fall on Taako’s shoulders.

“And even if it did, I have a bad back,” Taako informs Angus. “You’ll have to do the heavy-lifting for me, sweetpea. How’s that sound?”

“Okay, Taako,” Angus says gravely. If there’s a tiny part of Taako that’s fucking delighted every time this tiny miracle says his name, he squashes it down good and hard and no one is the wiser.

It feels a little bit like nothing exists outside this spacious manor house. The extensive grounds might as well be a magic barrier between Taako and the rest of the world. It won’t last—nothing good ever does—but for now he allows himself to pretend that it will.

#

Taako and his little shadow swing into the kitchen around noon one day to find Catherine in tears.

This is so far from the norm that Taako actually draws up short in the doorway. Angus toddles right into the back of his leg, loses his balance, and plops down hard on his padded bottom.

“What’s this all about, darling?” Taako asks warily.

Catherine is sharp in all the places Ezra is soft, and while it makes her much easier to understand—a girl after Taako’s own black, shriveled heart—it also makes her approximately one million times more difficult to comfort, as likely to bite at a helping hand as accept one.

At the first sign of her vicious temper, he’s gonna grab his kid and bail. There’s fruit and bread in the larder that’ll see them through to dinner, and if not, he's not above bribing Ezra to run interference.

But Catherine just lifts her head out of her hands and says, “I burnt the stupid soup!”

Taako blinks. He stands still so Angus can use one of his legs as leverage to pull himself back upright, and cups the back of the boy's head in silent praise when he manages it on his own.

“Okay,” Taako says slowly. He can piece this shit together. “The soup is burnt. And you’re cheesed about it because…you feel really strongly about soup.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she snaps, but it’s without any real heat. “I just. I can’t get anything right today.”

Ah. Okay. So it’s one of those.

He hesitates for a moment, and then leans down to scoop Angus up and balances him on a hip. Angus knows not to toddle into the kitchen unsupervised, and rarely gets to toddle in at all when there’s cookery going on.

Taako himself rarely goes in. It feels too much like tempting fate. But his feet carry him forward, and he leans over the pot of thick and creamy chicken and dumplings, and right away he can smell the problem. It caught on the bottom of the pot and scorched.

He’s never worked in this kitchen—and he never will—but he remembers the steps. It’s mise en place. He reaches into the spice cabinet and withdraws a small tin shaker.

“Cinnamon,” he says at length, offering the tin to Catherine.

She stares at him, losing some of her steel for a moment. “Really?”

“Really,” Taako says, and firmly steps back. The six-second exchange has left him feeling tense and sick, his appetite fully and completely fucking out of the picture.

Angus is a perceptive little monster, and settles more heavily into Taako’s arms. He heaves a very pointed sigh, something he started doing to communicate that he’s feeling particularly safe and content. It makes Taako’s chest hurt in a much different way than impending panic attacks tend to, and he presses a kiss to the kid’s curly head.

“Thanks, angel,” he says.

“You’re welcome.”

“Holy shit, Taako,” Catherine says, looking up from the soup with awe in her eyes. As he watches, she tries another spoonful, and then she actually laughs out loud. “It worked!”

He finds himself searching her face for—sickness. Shortness of breath. Something.

It’s stupid. The people he killed in Glamour Springs didn’t show signs of death for days.

“I didn’t know you cooked,” Catherine goes on. “Could you teach me?”

“I don’t,” Taako blurts. It comes out sharper than he meant for it to, sudden and a little bit too loud. Catherine’s smile tapers. Angus lifts his head off Taako’s shoulder. Breathe, idiot, Taako tells himself. Be a fucking person for two seconds. “Cook, I mean. I don’t cook. Or, uh, teach. I’m kind of useless. Pretty, though.”

He flips his hair. It makes Angus giggle, but Catherine isn’t an easily-amused toddler, and she’s not buying it.

Her eyes are sharp, and seem to peel through layers of Taako’s bullshit like a knife. And then she scoffs, and mimics his hair flip with her wrist even though her hair is only about two inches long, and the tension drains out of the room like someone pulled a plug in the floor.

“You’ve been teaching Mango to read,” she says dryly. “And Elvish. And magic. But okay, Mr I Don’t Teach.”

“He’s my fucking protege. That shit’s different!”

“Shit!” Angus agrees cheerfully.

“Whatever. Now that I know you’re secretly a fountain of knowledge, I’m dragging you in here the next time I fuck up a recipe.” She studies him for a moment, and adds, “You don’t have to cook, Teach. If it bothers you. I just…I need help sometimes.

Taako feels himself relenting. This house is turning him into a fucking pushover.

“I know, Cat,” he sighs. “Try to find one person who doesn’t.”

#

“Alright, little man,” Taako says, tugging Angus’ collar straight. “What are the rules?”

“Hold your hand, don’t talk to strangers, aim for the eyes if I can reach them, knees if I can’t,” his boy recites gravely.

Next to him, Ezra stifles a snort of laughter. Boniface, waiting by the loaded carriage, looks reluctantly amused. Catherine says, “Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to give you a kid?”

“Uh, your boss,” Taako says without looking at her. He stands up from his crouch as the front door closes, and they all turn as McDonald comes down the steps to join them in the crumbly courtyard.

“Are we ready, boys?” he asks with a smile. “Neverwinter is waiting.”

Honestly, Taako has been sick with dread over this trip for the past two weeks, but he wouldn’t know how to go about explaining that. And he sure as hell isn’t sending Angus off alone with his absent-minded grandfather. The kid probably wouldn’t make it home.

It’s not as though Taako has been sequestered in the manor house for the last five years. He’s ambled into the settlement with the girls now and then, has gone farther up the road to buy from caravans for Candlenights gifts, has let himself be bullied, cajoled, blackmailed and bribed into helping Boniface lug imported plants home from the train station.

But this is fucking Neverwinter. The Jewel of the North.

“Taako? You okay?” Angus says from somewhere near his elbow.

“Just dreading three hours on the road playing I, Spy with you, boychik,” he lies smoothly. “Go pet the horses so we can get that out of the way.”

Angus looks mulish for a moment, but he does insist on petting the carthorses before they take the carriage literally anywhere, so he lifts his head and crosses the courtyard with great dignity. Taako watches sharply until Boniface rolls his eyes so hard Taako can practically hear it and hefts Agnus up in one huge arm to better reach the giant creatures without running the risk of getting fucking trampled.

“I’m making the salmon at home tonight,” Catherine says abruptly, a non-sequitur that takes Taako by surprise. “If I don’t fuck it up, I’m gonna cook it here, too. So don’t be late, Teach.”

“I’ll a hundred percent eat your share if you’re late,” Ezra adds. Her smile looks a little strained.

Taako has not been subtle. He’s been freaking out right out loud where anybody could see it. Get it together, asshole, he coaches himself helpfully.

“Cat,” he says earnestly, “your salmon is literally the only thing I have to live for.”

She groans and pushes him away from her. Angus has finished with the horses and returns to Taako at a run, even though they’re all going to be walking back across the courtyard to the carriage in like one minute anyway. 

McDonald is handing out a few last minute instructions. They’re mostly things that have already been taken care of, errands that have already been run, the ushe. The girls nod along politely, but there’s a level of uncertainty lingering above them like a cloud. They look as nervous about Taako leaving as Taako feels.

Now, Taako is many things—an elf, a failed chef, a murderer, a dime-store wizard, and one lucky nanny—but he is not some mercurial fairy tale creature. He’s not going to vanish from their lives the second they lose sight of him. He could if he wanted to, and he will if he has to, but he doesn’t want to. For now, he doesn’t have to.

So he lifts a hand and says, “Back soon.”

But for some reason, it fucking hurts.

#

The trip is about everything he expected it would be: long and boring. Angus gets bored with I, Spy within about ten minutes, the interior of the carriage is a little too tight to practice his cantrips, and Boniface seems to be aiming for the roughest parts of the road on purpose. Taako tries reading aloud from one of the Caleb Cleveland books, but McDonald keeps interrupting every time they get to the good, mysterious parts, so Angus and Taako trade a loaded glance and wordlessly agree to save it for later.

Still, it’s not awful. Angus at six years old is bright-eyed and relentlessly clever. He wants to be a detective like Caleb, and has taken to solving little mysteries around the manor house, like who left the jam out on the counter (Taako, and what are you going to do about it, pumpkin?) and who tracked the mud inside the undercroft (Boniface, obviously, that’s where all the booze is, and he literally works in mud all day. You didn’t have to put on your detective cap for that one).

Needless to say, Taako would burn the whole world down for this kid.  

With no choice but to spend time in his grandson’s company, Taako can see Angus’ innate charm going to work on McDonald. There’s something wistful in the old man’s eyes, affectionate and more than a little bittersweet. He stops interrupting as Angus starts to describe his latest case in great detail—the mystery of the missing tarts!

The tarts are wrapped up and waiting in Taako’s bag for when they inevitably get snacky during the trip, but he's not going to tell. He kinda wants to see how far the kid takes this one.

By the time they board the train, Angus is tuckered out. The excitement of a trip so far from home is wearing off after hours in a carriage, and Taako ends up carrying him into their sleeper car and putting him to bed in one of the bunks.

McDonald takes a seat at the small table and watches without commentary as Taako extracts the boy’s hat and glasses and wand without waking him, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders. And then, out of habit more than anything else, he murmurs the only Elven blessing he remembers, quite literally ‘sweet dreams.’ He remembers Auntie saying it to him, and…someone else, maybe? He remembers that it always made him feel loved to hear it.

“Hiring you was the best thing I could have done for him,” McDonald says suddenly.

Taako turns with a trademark smile on his face, only as charming as it needs to be. “Hiring me was the best thing you ever did, period.”

His boss smiles back, but there’s an edge to it that Taako can’t translate. This is the most present and aware he’s looked in the last five years. Taako isn’t sure he’s ever had this much of McDonald’s attention.

“There’s another reason I wanted to take the two of you with me this week,” he says. 

It’s ominous as fuck, and as the train lurches into motion, pulling away from the station, Taako realizes that he’s effectively trapped here, in a way he never was at the manor house. Some of his thoughts must show on his face, because McDonald’s smile warms a bit, and he gestures at the other chair. 

“It’s a good thing, son. No need to be nervous.”

Taako sits in an irreverent collapsing of limbs to prove that he isn’t nervous, actually. McDonald pulls a bunch of papers out of his briefcase and sets them on the table. They look official as fuck. McDonald’s signature at the bottom draws Taako’s eye—huh, so that’s his first name. After this long, it would have felt a little awkward to ask. Beneath that is the signature and seal of a notary.

“What am I looking at here, Charlie?”

McDonald’s lips twitch. He probably cottoned onto the name thing. 

“Well, this isn’t an easy conversation to have, and I probably could have picked a better time for it, but.” He glances over Taako’s shoulder at where Angus is sleeping. “It’s probably better if the boy doesn’t overhear until it’s sorted.”

“I hear ya. That little bugbear is all up in everyone’s business all the time,” Taako says proudly. “Just the worst.”

“He’s amazing,” McDonald says. That sorrow swims into his eyes now, an ancient, ruinous thing. “He reminds me of my daughter every time I look at him.” Oh. “It’s been…hard to look at him sometimes.” Oh.

Taako carefully reevaluates his opinion of Angus’ absent grandfather. Not too much, because the dude still should have been around, but, you know. Some.

Taako tries to imagine losing somebody, how much it must hurt. He tries to imagine looking like somebody, a family resemblance, a belonging at face-value. He’s never experienced either, but there’s still a bitter pit in his throat, a feeling like if he swallows too hard he’ll start to cry. So he sits very still instead.

“But still, he’s my only grandson, and I want him to be taken care of when I’m gone,” the man goes on. “I’m getting on in years, and I probably don’t have much longer left—oh, Taako. It’s alright.”

Taako is certain he didn’t move. He’s still doing the sitting-very-still thing. Then he realizes his ears betrayed him, pressed back flat against his head. Goddamn things.

“No, it’s uh. Taako’s good, don’t. Just.”

It’s the human age thing. He doesn’t want to think about it. He waves McDonald on, a tight rolling gesture. They really need to power through the rest of this conversation while Taako still has enough self-control left to not do something really embarrassing in front of his boss, like have a whole emotion.

McDonald takes pity. Thank fuck.

“It’s normal to want to get your ducks in a row,” he says. “I’m not planning on kicking the bucket any time soon.”

“Alright, let’s organize these ducks,” Taako says with unwarranted enthusiasm. He’s trying to trick himself into it. “Fucking ducks, am I right?”

“Angus is my heir. When he’s of age, he’ll get the estate and everything that goes with it, as well as his parents’ properties,” McDonald says, once again reminding Taako that he’s a rich old fuck. Istus. “But that’s still more than a decade away. If something should happen to me, I don’t want him to end up a ward of the state.”

Taako blinks. In the back of his mind, he realizes that he has become one of those elves that would one-thousand-percent kidnap a human baby if it came down to it. Leave Agnes in an orphanage? His Agnes? It would literally have never occurred to him.

“Custody cases can be so long-winded. The easiest way to circumvent the whole mess would be to adopt you into the family,” McDonald says, super nonchalant about flipping the world upside down. “That way Angus has an immediate next of kin that no one would question.”

He looks up when Taako doesn’t say anything and frowns at whatever Taako’s face must look like.

“You don’t have to use the surname if you don’t want to. It’s mostly just for the sake of paperwork.”

“I can’t,” Taako blurts.

“Of course. I wouldn’t insist that you change your family name if it’s important to you—”

“Not—not that, who gives a fuck about my family name,” Taako says too loudly. Angus shifts around for a second, like he might wake up, and Taako snaps his mouth closed so hard it hurts his teeth. In a whisper, because it’s all he can manage without giving into the urge to scream, Taako forces out, “I—I’m—I can’t.”

In the nightmare scenarios that still sometimes plague him in the middle of the night, when everyone else is asleep and he’s alone with the voice in his brain that fucking hates him, the choices always boiled down to either leaving Angus behind or taking him on the run. Both choices were fucking awful for a myriad of different reasons, and left Taako pacing his room tirelessly trying to think his way out of an unsolvable problem.

The idea that he could become a legal part of Angus’ family as simply as signing a piece of paper is so far-fetched and ridiculous that he can’t wrap his mind around it.

But bringing all his shit into Angus’ life? Signing up for this only to get snatched away the second the paperwork goes through and the militia finally finds him? Leaving his dirty laundry all over the front yard like the worst fucking house guest imaginable, and then peacing out to spend the rest of his long-ass fucking elf life in jail, while Angus was left to just…deal with that?

He couldn’t. He can’t. Every single option is bad. He shouldn’t have stayed. He should have known he would fall in love with that baby on day one. It’s really fucking stupid that he stayed.

“—aako. Taako.”

Taako jerks his head up. His ears are twitching and his hands are shaking and McDonald has probably been saying his name for awhile.

The man’s eyes are bright and steely. They look exactly like Angus’ do sometimes, when he wakes Taako up from a miserable meditation, when it’s just the two of them in a huge house surrounded by a crumbling garden.

“Tell me,” the man says sternly.

At a fucking complete loss, Taako just…does.

When he’s finished, McDonald looks at him really hard for what feels like a long time. Then he pulls a pair of reading glasses out of an inner pocket of his coat, poises the business end of a fountain pen against a fresh sheet of paper, and starts asking questions.

It’s a business-like, no-nonsense exchange. Taako is wiped out, emotionally he is the equivalent of a damp rag wrung out to dry, and he has no wherewithal left to lie or deny or deflect.

When they’re done, McDonald has filled three notebook pages of blocky handwriting, and Taako is swaying in his seat. He watches somewhat vacantly as McDonald nods to himself and rummages in his briefcase for a stone of farspeech.

“We won’t reach Neverwinter until morning. Get some sleep,” he says, and his voice is kindly again, the way it was before. Taako stares at him. “And don’t tell me elves don’t need it, please. I wasn’t born yesterday, and you nap twice as much as my grandson ever did.”

Well, it would be nice to get one last unnecessary snooze in as a free man, Taako supposes, and he doesn’t hesitate to climb into Angus’ bunk. It’s a familiar ritual. The kid squirms to accommodate him without fully waking. Taako tucks an arm around him and buries his nose in that riot of curly hair.

He hears McDonald say, “You’re not much more than a kid yourself, are you?” but that might have just been part of a dream.

He hears someone else say, “That can’t be broken or lost or taken away, it’s always going to be so important,” but Taako thinks that, whoever that was, they were very clearly wrong.

#

Taako wakes up to a six-year-old’s warm brown eyes. They’re crinkled at the corners in an urchin sort of way, and it’s the only tell Taako needs. His kid has been up to some mischief.  

“Grandpa said you were tired and I should let you sleep,” Angus reports cheerfully. “He also said that there was a nice lady selling flowers a few cars down, and I ought to go buy a few!”

Ah. Taako glances down at the ruin of his hair. It looks like about a hundred snowberry blossoms were worked into the thick flaxen braid. It’s going to be an absolute pain to brush out later. He’ll probably find bits of plant in his hair for days. He loves it.

He risks a glance in McDonald’s direction.

The man looks amused by their whole general existence, which is fair. He also doesn't look like he's about to summon the guard to have Taako hauled into the brig, which is a fucking relief and a half.

“The world changed while you were asleep,” he says significantly. “Would you like to sign the papers now or with your pardon?”

Angus says, all in one breath, “You should sign the papers first! Grandpa says then you’ll be my family! I mean, you already are, so I’m not sure what the point is, but it must be important. Look at how official they are!”

Taako feels about four cups of coffee behind this conversation. He scoots off the bed, spilling into one of the chairs at the table, and folds his hands.

“Charlie. Buddy.”

“I stepped out for two minutes,” McDonald says defensively, “and I thought he was asleep!”

“That’s the oldest trick in the book,” Taako mutters. His heart is doing something really complicated and largely unnecessary, fucking backflipping in his chest, at Angus’ thoughtless ‘you already are.’ Like it was a given. What the fuck. “Can you go back to, uh—the world changing? A pardon? What’s up with that?”  

“An old friend of mine is a cleric,” he says pushing a steaming cup in Taako’s direction. “Level nine, or thereabouts. She owed me a favor from when we were in school together, when I—well, that’s not important. What is important is that she was happy to cast Discern Location to find your old stage manager.”

Taako fumbles the cup, almost drops it. He sets it down hard.

“What the fuck? No, hold that thought. Angus, I love you. Get lost.”

He’s really banking on the kid being more stir-crazy than curious, and sure enough, Angus hops right off the bunk and sprints for the door.

“Okay, I’ll be in the dining car! You’re not s’posed to take food back with you, but I’m gonna see how many pastries I can fit in my pockets so you won’t be hungry when you sign the papers that make you my family! Love you, bye!”

“A three-hour carriage ride followed by six hours on a train was the worst fucking idea,” Taako says severely. “He’s gonna be on eleven when we roll up to Neverwinter. They might not let us in.”

“He’s just excited,” the old man says, with the tranquility of someone who isn’t going to have to child-wrangle all day long. “I told him I had good news for you.”

Taako is fidgeting, turning the cup of coffee around and around in his hands. It’s leaving a ring of condensation on the table.

“You found Sazed?” he asks, and hates how small his voice sounds.

“We did.”

“He probably hates me,” Taako mutters. “I ruined his life.”

McDonald takes the cup from him and sets it down on the other side of the table with a firm clunk. 

“Pardon my language, but you didn’t ruin crud.” Taako mouths ‘crud’ in bewilderment, but McDonald isn’t finished. “I was suspicious of your story when you described the way those people died. Those aren’t the typical symptoms of deadly nightshade, and I’d never heard of a transmutation spell failing in that way before. So I looked into it. Or, I should say, I had a few friends look into it.”

“Are you in a cult?” Taako asks. He can’t help it. He’s one part genuinely curious and two parts hardwired to deflect any time someone tricks him into having a serious conversation. “We frown on cults in this family. Mysterious shadow organizations are never a good thing, no matter what greater-good shit they’re peddling.”

“I’m very rich and belong to very elite social circles,” McDonald says dryly. He’s unmoved by Taako’s general everything. “This whole thing took about three calls. I wish you would have told me about this five years ago, but I do understand why you didn’t.”

Taako doesn’t have a cup to fuck around with anymore. He stopped wearing jewelry when Angus was a baby and literally everything smaller than an apple was a choking hazard, and he never really got into the habit of it again, so he doesn’t have rings to twist around his fingers, either. He wrings his hands instead.

“If it wasn’t the elderberries,” he chokes out, and doesn’t make it any farther.

“It was arsenic,” McDonald says. His voice is kind again, but not so much so that it’s painful to hear. “Sazed was questioned within a Zone of Truth. He admitted to—okay,” he cuts himself off, putting a hand on Taako’s shoulder. “We’re done talking about it for now. Just take it easy.”

Taako doesn’t uncurl from his chair until the door rattles open and Angus’ voice fills the room. He’s found a dozen things to talk about in the ten minutes he’s been gone, and is very proud of himself for all the contraband pastries he managed to make off with. There’s a cheese danish wrapped very carefully in a napkin, only slightly squished, that he presents to Taako with a showy flourish that he really only could have picked up from too much time around one particular idiot.

Taako accepts the danish, and then hauls Angus up onto his lap, and then says, “Charlie, baby. Pass me that fancy pen.”

#

For the first time in almost eight years, Taako is cooking for an audience again. His hands are shaking, but as long as everyone else is politely pretending like they don’t notice, he can do himself the same favor.

I fed those people their death, but it wasn’t on me, he recites inwardly for the seven millionth time, a nervous mantra. My magic was good. My cooking was good. I was good. It wasn’t on me.

He looks up from the counter where all his tools are laid out and his ingredients are arranged. Ezra is bouncing in her seat, Boniface is lingering in the doorway like he doesn’t care but he also isn’t leaving, and Catherine’s eyes are wide and moonlike and younger than Taako has ever seen them. Angus has place of pride, a seat on the counter by the sink with the best view in the house.

“Okay,” he says. “What are the rules, pumpkin?”

“No swiping ingredients, no magic in the kitchen, and no taste-testing until you say it’s okay,” Angus rattles off promptly. “Autographs at the end of the show are three gold apiece, photos are ten, and the overall experience is absolutely priceless.”

Over the sweet sound of the rest of his audience groaning at him, Taako goes on blithely, “And what are we cooking today?”

“Macarons!”

“And who’s your dude?” Taako asks, pointing a whisk at him. Angus giggles, and Taako’s hands aren’t shaking anymore.

In a month, Angus is going off to a summer camp out past Rockport. It’s Caleb Cleveland-themed, and the whole thing sounds extremely nerdy and book-cluby, and Angus is desperately excited. He’s also desperately nervous about being away from his family for three whole weeks but he’s trying to keep that on the down-low. He’s very grown up at nearly ten years old.

Taako can respect that. He also bought the kid a stone of farspeech, because actually fuck that.

And while Angus is off having his first away-from-home adventure—since the girls think that Taako’s just going to be useless and mopey the whole time, and Boniface already threatened to bury him in a flowerbed the first time he whines about literally anything—Taako is going to go do something cool, too. There’s always some interesting jobs posted on Craig's List up in Neverwinter. He’ll be able to find something to occupy his time.  

But for now, he’s gonna make some goddamn desserts.

“Come on, Ango,” Taako wheedles, “who’s your dude?”

“You, papa.”

I’m good, Taako reminds himself. He looks at his kid, who only deserves the best this piece of shit world has to offer, and thinks, I can be good.