#you have two soulmarks. i might only have one but i have TWO hands. so does mob. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sarahowritesostucky · 4 months

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📖"Worth The Wait"

Rated: Mature

Pairing: Steve x Bucky x reader

Tags: soulmate au, Dom/sub au, age difference (26/34), sub reader, soft!dom Steve, bossy!dom Bucky, soulmarks, angst/comfort, stalking, grinding, virginity kink

Summary: When you find out what the two of them have been hiding from you all these years - and more importantly, what they've been depriving you of - you don't react well. You may be a submissive and they may be two Doms with whom your relationship runs deep, but you just cannot with these two idiots. Not this time.

"Please just wait a second. You're overreacting! Come on, Doll, won'tcha just let us expl-"

You whirl around at the nickname, furious. "No!" You reach up to smack away the hand that was reaching for you—Bucky's hand. He looks so hurt by it, and you grit your teeth, mad at him for his audacity to act hurt over this. "Don't call me that," you grit out, face red from how high your blood pressure currently is (and the crying, though you're doing your best to push that back until you can get away from them).

"Sweetie—"

"No! I said shut up!" You glare daggers at him. "You don't get to call me that anymore."

"Honey ..."

"And neither do you!" you snap, turning the daggers on Steve. You point at him, then Bucky, jabbing each of them once in their chests with your finger. "I'm not your 'Honey', I'm not your 'Sweetie'. I'm the girl whose life you've ruined for the past twelve years, and you don't get to act like you care about me now!"

Bucky sighs like you're being unreasonable, and that pisses you off even more than him acting hurt over it had. "Doll, come on. It's not that big of a—"

"God! Just stop!" You turn back to your apartment door and shakily get your keys out and fit the right one to the lock, your angry tears about to burst out of you from frustration when you fumble a few times before getting it open. You feel the heat of the two of them at your back and you push the door inward and take a step in, then turn back around to face them—they're closer, right at the threshold. "Get back," you say tersely, body tensing up at the threat that they might follow you in. You can't take that right now. You need to be alone. You have to process this.

"Come on, Peach. Just let us explain, please. Let's talk about this."

Goddamn him. It's like he's trying to use up his whole repertoire of pet names just to spite you. "There's nothing to talk about!" You grab the edge of the door and push it to slam it shut in their faces, but Bucky's metal hand comes up and stops it from closing completely.

His expression is harder now, his voice lower as he gives you a stern look. "Don't shut us out, Peach."

You huff, sick and tired of his superior attitude. Normally, you like the way he coddles you, talks down to you, calls you pet names—it makes you feel special and warm—but not today. Today you just found out that Stucky (as you refer to the pair of them) are your soulmates—both of them. That's rare but not unheard of. They're both Doms, after all, so it only figured that one or both of them was eventually going to get the tingle for some sub, somewhere, someday. And now you know it's you.

That's not what you're mad about, though. Your stomach had dropped right out when Bucky admitted that he and Steve have known about this for twelve years. Twelve fucking years! And then Steve had the nerve to tell you that they've been tag teaming as "chaperones" (read: stalkers) for the entirety of your dating life—ever since you were fourteen and started going out with Jimmy Bollinger in the ninth grade.

You get sicker the more you think about it: all those fumbled relationships, all those boys (and later, men) who seemed to like you so much, and then who suddenly lost interest; all those times when a Bumble match would stand you up, or when a few kisses and seemingly fantastic dates led to a sudden ghosting. Now you know why. Steve and Bucky have been "handling" (read: intimidating) them out of your sphere for over an entire decade!

You can't even begin to process the betrayal you feel, how confused and upset this makes you. You feel like your best friends have just played the cruelest trick ever, and you can't let them come into your apartment now because you know if you do, they'll just Dom (read: bully) the upset out of you and that is not what you want. It's not what you need. You need to cry and vent and rage. You need to call Wanda over and drink more vodka than Stucky would ever allow you to. So no, you can't let them in.

You sneer at Bucky's hand on the door and his superior expression. "Take your fucking hand off my fucking door, right fucking now, Barnes," you warn, absolutely fed up with him and totally showing it on your stone cold face.

For a second, his eyes narrow and he looks like he'll fight you on it. But Steve puts a hand on his shoulder and says quietly, "Babe," addressing Bucky as his husband. You clench your teeth and glare Bucky down. His features pinch as if it's physically painful for him to respect your wishes, but he does pull back—which, unbeknownst to him, saves him from a swift punch to the face. He opens his mouth like he'll say something else, continue arguing that you shouldn't be upset at them, but before he can, you slam the door shut in their faces, rapidly locking it and throwing the deadbolt once it's closed.

You stand there, immediately breaking into the tears you were trying so desperately to hold back in front of them, both palms flat on the door and then your forehead resting between them as all the anger inside you suddenly collapses into sorrow.

How could they do this to you?!

You hear them talking from the other side of the door, though it's muffled. They sound frustrated, talking to each other, arguing back and forth in low, hissed voices. You can't make all of their words out, but you do hear Steve scolding Bucky for his aggressiveness, and then Bucky sniping back about Steve being too soft.

"Now she'll never come outta there," he complains to Steve. "She needs us! We need to talk to her, hold her! We need to explain—"

"—You think I don't know that?! Think I don't want her in my arms just as bad as you do?!"

You scoff at the back and forth of their arguing and pull away from the door, not wanting to hear it. You stomp back to your bedroom and slam the door shut, hard, hoping they hear it from out in the hall. You toss your purse on the bed, then yourself. You let yourself break down completely and just sob into your pillow for a while; hot, angry, devastated tears wetting the pillowcase and making you snotty and miserable as you think about the joke they've made of you all these years.

Every single time, you think, horrified as the realization sinks deeper and deeper with the more memories you drag up and examine. From Jimmy in ninth grade, from high school crushes and a ruined prom night, through all your college boyfriends and after-college boyfriends, all the way up to your third date/breakup with Derrick today: All of it has been because of them.

You'd thought there was something wrong with you; that you were a bad kisser, or not that pretty, not thin enough or not toned enough, not smart or interesting enough. You'd angsted over whether maybe you talked too much about heavy topics on first dates, or didn't give off a heavy enough sub vibe—or too much of a sub vibe. All these years trying so desperately to improve yourself, to make yourself lovable, and it turns out that Steve and Bucky were chasing away any chance you had at love in the first place.

You break down for a while in your room, crying and fuming and crying some more, utterly devastated at their betrayal. Eventually the tears run out, and instead you just get really, really angry.

The audacity of them! You remember the scene from earlier, when you'd bumped into them outside the restaurant where Derrick had cautiously told you that he "wasn't ready for a relationship," and that "it was him, not you." You'd left, managing not to cry despite how dejected you'd felt, so sure that it was you (again), and found Bucky and Steve standing there, looking like they'd been waiting for it to happen.

Steve had looked nervous, Bucky less so. He'd been the one to comfort you as you all walked back towards the building you shared. He'd told you that the guy didn't deserve you anyway, that you were too good for him—all the usual platitudes that did only a little to heal the hurt of another rejection. You hadn't thought much of how they'd just been there outside the restaurant, chalking it up to coincidence at first.

God, you felt so stupid now! All these years and you've never seen it. You lay there in your bed and replay that evening in your mind, going back to the moment it'd happened:

"Just tell her," Steve says, once you've reached the stoop in front of your building.

"Tell me what?"

Bucky takes a deep breath and puts both hands on your shoulders as he looks in your eyes and gently confesses, "It's us, Doll. We're the reason why none of your relationships have really worked out." He glances over at Steve, and the two of them share a knowing look, before he turns back to you and the both of them stare you down. "We've been waiting for you."

You get a sinking sense of dread right away, even though you don't understand what he means. "What?" You lift your hands to cover his on your shoulders, intending to push them off, but he only curls his fingers more firmly there. "What are you saying?"

"We're your soulmates, Honey," Steve says, while Bucky nods. "We have been for ... well ... since you were fourteen." He kind of winces when he says it, and you gape for a full five seconds before you manage to squeak,

"What?!"

Bucky leads you over to the bench that sits in front of your building, urging you down to sit between them. Their big bodies crowd you in from either side, pressing up against you, but for the first time in your life, it doesn't feel like safety. "No," you whimper, looking back and forth between them to try and see that this is just a mean joke. "You don't ... you aren't ..." Steve nods seriously, and you feel your breath leave you. "You can't be. I mean, not all this time? You knew? And you didn't ... you knew you were my ..."

"Yeah, your soulmates, Honey." Steve puts his hand on top of your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze that you suppose is meant to be comforting. "It's a good thing, yeah?"

You shudder, humiliated. "How could you?"

They share a confused look, mistaking your meaning and each of them answering simultaneously:

"We have your Words."

"We felt it happen."

You scoff. "I mean: how could you do this to me?!"

They both look shocked that you're so upset about it. They hold you still to keep you sitting on the bench between them when you try to get up. "Hold on, Doll. Let us explain."

"Explain? Explain?!"

"We were just protecting you, Hon, until you got a little older, until you were ready." Steve is so coaxing, so sweet like he always is, and Bucky hums and pets your arm as he acknowledges that what Steve is saying is the truth.

“But we watched out for you.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“We had to look after you,” Steve explains, like it’s common sense. “Couldn’t let any of those guys get serious with you, you know?”

“... Oh my god,” you whisper. Neither one of them seems to pick up on the horror that's dawning on you, as you realize the full scope of the situation. "Since I was ... f-fourteen?" you say, beginning to hyperventilate, thinking of all the not-quite-boyfriends of so many years, the canceled dates, the ghosted texts, the "I'm not ready for this" excuses.

You're ... you're still a virgin because of these two!

New strength enters your body and you surge to your feet, breaking through their hold on you. You turn to them with angry tears already building up behind your eyes. This is unbelievable! How could they do this to you? "How?!" you demand, voice wavering with emotion. "Show me."

They each pull down on the necklines of their tee shirts, stretching the fabric to reveal the top swells of their left pecs. And there, just underneath their left collarbones, are the matching marks:

You guys are complete idiots, you do realize this?

The Words on their skin are in that odd shade of muted red that everyone's Words are in—like an old scar that never quite healed—and you stare, unable to breathe for a couple of seconds. You must've called them "idiots" and "dumbasses" a thousand times over the years, but the second you see their marks, you somehow know the exact instance when you'd said those words; the memory of the encounter playing out in your mind as clear as if it were right there in front of you on a tv screen.

You flounder for a bit as you try to make sense of it, to somehow make what they're telling you less awful. "So you've ... you've just been ruining my dates for ... for ten years?!"

Neither of them look prepared for this reaction from you. "Well ... twelve," Steve grimaces. "But it was 'cause we knew—"

"Because you knew and didn't tell me! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Sweetie, just calm down for a sec. This is good news. We were trying to protect you."

You turn all your anger on Bucky at that point, incensed. "Protect me?!"

You don't miss the way that his eyes harden, how he squares his jaw and gives you a firm, "Yes. To protect you." You scoff, and he leans forward and grabs your wrist and tugs you back to the bench, but you land ungracefully in his lap and he wraps his arms around your middle so that you can't escape, your back pressed tightly to his chest.

"Let me go!"

"No. You're going to sit still like a good girl and hear us out," he says, using his Dominant tone, and you freeze at hearing it. Bucky and Steve never intone with you. They're your friends. They're respectful. Sure, there's always been a small degree of sexual tension present between you, but they're married, they're Stucky, and they've always been platonic with you. Always! Bucky's breath hits warm against your scalp and the shell of your ear as he tries to calm you down. "You were too young at fourteen, Doll," he says, still speaking sternly but also compassionately. "Can't you understand that?"

Steve nods along in agreement. "You weren't ready to be tied down to someone. You weren't ready to be Dommed, and you sure as hell weren't ready for intimacy of any kind."

"Intimacy?" you sneer, struggling and failing against the strength of Bucky's arms. "Like I'd have any clue what that is, huh? I'm twenty-six goddamn years old and I've never gotten past second base! I thought there was something wrong with me. And now I find out, after all these years of angsting, that it's because you two have been cock blocking me?!"

"Calm down," Bucky growls in your ear—another Dominant order, just as Steve says,

"Sweetheart, please ..."

To your great shame, you have a physical reaction to Bucky's hold on you: his strong arms restraining you and his scruff brushing against your neck and his Dominant tone seeping into your brain—and Steve's coaxing entreaties coming from the side don't help. It's not under your control, how your clit pulses and your panties get a little wet spot from all that stimulation. You are a submissive, after all, and this is Bucky doing this to you. How many times have you thought about it? How many nights spent lying in bed have you brought him to mind, or him and Steve to mind, as you've slipped a hand down your belly and—

No, you think, shutting those thoughts off in anger. You're not going to go soft for them now. They can't get away with this.

You've been crying at this point, a few tears escaping down your cheeks like firebrands, only increasing your humiliation. And of course Steve coos and leans in to wipe them away. "Hey, heey, Honey. It's okay. We're here now."

You jerk away from him like his hands are poison and you hiss, "Don't touch me."

Steve's hand falls away, his face so full of concern. "Honey ..." he laments.

"No. Don't call me that. Don't touch me." You squirm hard in Bucky's arms again, and when he doesn't let you go you huff and turn to Steve. "Make him let me go. Now."

Your gaze must be murderous, because after a brief hesitation, Steve reluctantly convinces Bucky to let go of you. You immediately get to your feet and storm off, hurrying into the apartment building and towards the elevator, the two men following at your back. "Leave me alone!"

They catch up to you at the elevator before the doors can fully shut, Bucky glaring and Steve wincing as they block the doors and force their way inside. "Please," Steve says, begging you to understand. "It was for your own good."

Wrong thing to say. You go to jab the button for your floor and cross your arms, keeping yourself away from them—and well out of Bucky's reach. Bucky pushes the button for his and Steve's floor, too (it's just below yours), and then swipes his hand over the buttons for every other floor. You hiss and whirl around. "Christ. Real mature, Bucky."

"We need the time to talk."

"You could have told me!"

"We wanted you to have your freedom, Hon," Steve pleads. His kind tone only makes you angrier.

"Freedom?! How is that freedom? Freedom to do what? to spend years trying to find a connection with someone and fail? to figure that it must be me; that I'm, I dunno, overestimating myself? to convince myself I'm a seven and then decide that I must really only be, like, a solid four 'cause no one wants me?"

"The fuck?" Bucky growls and steps forward. "You're gorgeous." But he says it like a chastisement instead of a compliment, and you're far too angry to take any compliments from him, anyway.

"Fuck you!"

"Is that what you would've preferred?" he says darkly. "Hm? Because we were twenty-four back then, already out of college. And you were fourteen fucking years old, Sweetheart." You blush and avert your eyes, and Bucky nods, vindicated. "You really think two grown-ass men were gonna come busting in when you were still practically a kid? Take advantage of you in your prissy little ballerina bedroom? Hm? Pop your cherry on that sweet lacy duvet?"

"Buck," Steve complains.

It's a mean assessment, but it's accurate, and you suddenly hate that Bucky knows what your childhood bedroom back at your parents' apartment looks like. "No," you answer him tightly. "But you should've told me, not stalked me for twelve fucking years to make sure I never get laid!" You're still blushing as you say the words, but Steve looks a little ashamed, so you're glad you did.

At their floor, they try to coax you out into the hallway to go home with them like you've done so many times in the past, but you stay in the elevator and jab at the close door button, trying to shut them out. No such luck.

"Where do you think you're going?" Bucky asks as he steps back on, Steve right behind. You back up until you hit the elevator's wall, nowhere to go. Bucky crowds you in while Steve stands beside you. They both look a little less apologetic now and a little more ... well, dominant.

"Home," you say, meaning for the word come out assertive. Instead it comes out timid and you nearly cringe at yourself. "M'going home. Alone."

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Oh is that so?" The way he says it is dark and dangerous and smooth as satin. It makes your pulse quicken—but not in fear.

"Bucky," you breathe, trying to move to get around him, but they both block you in. "Ugh! Let me go."

They don't allow it. Bucky shoves his knee forward, forcing your legs to part. You gasp and he moves closer, pressing, holding you in place with his thick thigh wedged up against your clothed cunt. He rests his weight through his hand against the wall, right next to your head. Then, holding eye contact and with his lips parted, expression intent, he grinds his thigh forward.

You make an embarrassing 'yip' of a sound, and his eyes darken. You've never seen him look like that—not at you. It makes something nervous and desperate begin to gather in your belly. "Stop," you say, trying so hard to make your voice firm. You push against his chest, mad that he's using his dominance to bring out your submission. You've never subbed for Bucky or Steve—or anyone, really. At least nobody you care about. Since you've been unable to gain a sexual partner all these years, you've always used the services provided by Pro Doms - their platonic services, because no way in hell were you ever going to sign up to lose your virginity in a glorified medical clinic.

"Just relax for me," Bucky intones, nearly purring the words down at you. "Let us take you home and talk this out, huh?"

You whine at the increasing tug in your belly, embarrassed. "Don't–don't do that," you stammer, turning your head away from him. "S'not fair."

Bucky hums, pleased, but Steve clears his throat and then you hear him murmuring, "Buck, let her go. You can't force this. It isn't right."

You breathe a sigh of relief when Bucky pulls back from you, removing the pressure from between your legs. You have to fight the urge to put your hand down there, or to try and rub your thighs together. His big thigh pushed up between your legs had felt so good, and now it's gone.

"You liked that," Bucky says smugly, eyes gleaming. "Admit it. That made you wet just now, didn't it?"

You're scowling as Steve is once again chastising his husband for his crude comments. "Buck! Come on, man."

"Like I'd ever get turned on by you," you snap, hands balled into fists so you don't try to hit him again. "You're like my brother. Gross!"

It's not true. Not even a little bit. But you can tell that it gets under Bucky's skin, that it bothers him, so you sneer at him all the more and jab the button for your floor. The elevator moves up. Bucky's not intoning anymore, so that tugging in your belly fades away and your anger resurfaces, only this time it's even worse. You scowl at him and step forward, shoving him in the chest with your full might.

He barely moves, and when you shove him again and again, he only moves back by a small step, keeping his balance and leering at you because it's obvious how weak you are and how strong he is—and he knows that as a sub, you can't help but like that.

"Ugh!" You're ready to cry again, so mad and so humiliated by what they've done to you. "I hate you!"

"Don't say that, Honey," Steve mourns, still so fucking kind that you can hardly stand him any better than Bucky.

"Fuck you too, Steven," you snap, groaning in relief when the elevator finally 'dings' at your floor and the doors open. You step out and hurry down the hall towards your apartment, knowing that they're following you.

Which leads us all the way back to you, crying and fuming in your bedroom; and Bucky and Steve, ostensibly locked out in the hallway. You have no idea how long they loiter out there, but you're too afraid to open the door and check. You turn on your tv for background noise and make tea, checking the peep hole occasionally, but you can’t hear them talking anymore. If they are out there, they're making sure to stay out of eyeshot.

You huff at your own paranoia when you pull back from the most recent peephole check. You don't need to be doing this. You've already spent forty minutes crying, over an hour fuming, and another hour cry-fuming less vigorously over a few cups of tea. It's time to call for reinforcements.

"Wanda? Hey. I need you to come over for a girls' night."

Wanda, ever perceptive, can hear your clogged sinuses through the phone. She asks.

You sniffle and admit, "No, it's not good. Bring Nat if she's free. And plenty of Vodka."

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just-j-really · 2 months

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Unsolumates, part five:

Masterpost

“Have you found your person yet?” Morpheus asks. “Your- not your soulmate?”

It’s been a little over two months, since Hob and Audrey broke up. Somehow ‘getting dinner with Morpheus just after’ had turned into ‘additional drinks’ had turned into ‘brunch, a few days later,’ and now Hob doesn’t think a week has passed since the breakup that he hasn’t seen Morpheus, at least briefly. Morpheus has carefully avoided the subject of soulmates, of romance entirely, for the entire nine weeks, and Hob is a little ashamed and a lot grateful.

They aren’t… whatever they were, before. Hob still isn’t sure if ‘whatever’ was ‘experiment and mad scientist.’ He’s doesn’t really care, though, because whether or not he used to be Morpheus’ monster, he doesn’t think he is anymore. Not after two months of regular, friendly pleasantries and coaxing Morpheus into talking about the play he’s working on and Morpheus listening to him wax poetic about his new flat and its in-unit laundry and actual decent heat.

So it feels perfectly easy to say, “Haven’t really been looking for ‘em,” even if it aches a little. Morpheus looks a little startled by the admission, so Hob adds, “Morpheus. I just spent fifteen minutes explaining what I had for breakfast yesterday, I would have mentioned if I were seeing someone.”

In his defense, it had been a good breakfast. A breakfast worthy of fifteen minutes of conversation. He might have to steal Gwen’s soulmate solely to get her pancake recipe.

Morpheus stares at the table, twisting one cuff of his coat in his opposite hand. “But you’re certain,” he says to the table. If he were anyone else Hob would say he sounds hesitant. “You will look for them. Eventually.”

This means something to him, Hob realizes. Something more than research, or mad science, more than curiosity. Means something on a future-altering bone-deep soul-defining level.

The thought drops into Hob’s mind, like a dead bird dropped into his lap by a pet cat that genuinely thinks it’s being generous, that Morpheus’ soulmate may be dead. It would explain the coat, which he hasn’t taken off even though the White Horse is boilingly warm tonight. Would explain why Hob’s only ever seen him in sleeves that go down to, often past, his wrists. Scarred-over soulmarks don’t look terribly different from ordinary scars, at least not at a quick glance, which means that any suspiciously soulmark-shaped scar tends to draw prying glances and effusive pity, and people with actual soulmark scars do their best to hide them.

It would explain a lot about Morpheus, actually, from the distant intensity with which he’d approached the whole soulmate thing to his complete ignorance of how even normal dating works to the delicate way Will had gone about inviting him to his wedding, asking if Hob thought he was overstepping at least six times in the process.

And oh, god, Hob’s been staring at Morpheus’ arms like an asshole, hasn’t he? He consciously draws his eyes away from Morpheus’ sleeves, which means he ends up looking into his eyes instead. His eyes are so blue, a shade Hob isn’t sure how to describe as anything other than ‘pretty,’ somehow light and intense and warm all at once.

Mesmerizing, maybe. Hypnotic.

The truly off-putting combination of the disarming blue of Morpheus’ eyes and Hob’s own scramble not to think about dead soulmates is, possibly, why he says, “I’ll make you a bet,” before his brain has caught up with his mouth, or even finished trying to come up with synonyms for ‘blue.’

“Hmm?” Morpheus asks. His expression is cool, but there’s a teasing glint in those ultramarine eyes that goads Hob on.

“That you can keep asking me that, as long as you want, and one day the answer will be ‘yes, and we’re very happy together.’” Hob finishes off his drink, sets his glass down with just enough force to punctuate the challenge. “I’ll even stake something on it. You could shave my head.”

“Why would I want to shave your head?” Morpheus asks. His expression is still entirely bland, but his eyes- azure- are dancing.

“That’s not the point,” Hob informs him, leaning in. He might be a bit too enthusiastic about the idea, but he’s a little giddy for no specific reason, just a good day and good company. “The point is that I don’t want you to, and I’m still willing to bet on it because I’m going to win.”

“Fine,” Morpheus says, rolling his eyes, “I’ll take the bet.”

Hob can see right through him, though. More to the point, he can see the way Morpheus is biting at his lower lip, completely ineffectively hiding a smile, and he’s powerless not to smile back.

At first, Hob thinks Morpheus is going to take this bet as seriously as their initial Whatever That Was. The first thing out of his mouth, the next time he and Hob meet for drinks, is so have you met your person yet? And Hob says not yet, and Morpheus asks if that means he’s won, and Hob informs him that a ‘not yet’ is not a ‘no’ and also did Morpheus expect him to find the love of his life within a week? He is not the lead in one of Will’s plays, why would he do that.

For someone who looked so smug when he asked Hob if he’d won the bet, Morpheus looks- almost equally satisfied when he learns Hob hasn’t experienced a whirlwind six day long romance.

But he lets it drop, after that, and they fall back into their new-old pattern, and all is right with the world.

“You know I nearly drowned once?” Hob asks.

In hindsight, it’s not a thing he should have asked while leaning out over a large pond because he swears that’s an ancient, sunken paddleboat in the middle of it and he wants a better look. Morpheus grabs him by the shoulder and yanks him backwards almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth, as though past near-drownings make Hob more susceptible to a watery grave.

“In a wave pool, yes,” Morpheus says, steering Hob away from the water’s edge. They’d been on their way to a museum, but Morpheus, for unknowable and mysterious reasons, had decided they should detour through this park on the way.

“Oh, no, after that,” Hob says, still craning his neck for a look at the sunken maybe-paddleboat. “I was like- sixteen? Got stuck under a boat when it flipped.” They reach the gravel path leading away from the water, and Morpheus lets Hob’s arm drop with noticeable reluctance.

“Just how many times have you nearly drowned?” Morpheus asks, as they trudge back toward the main path through the park.

“Uh. Two?” Hob replies. “The wave pool doesn’t count.”

“The fact that you think that is not reassuring,” Morpheus informs him, and will not budge on the issue no matter how much Hob tried to convince him that it doesn’t count as drowning as long as no one calls an ambulance.

The argument lasts them the rest of the way through the park, on a meandering route that doubles back on itself at least six times, across city streets to the museum, and through the queue for tickets. At that point Hob concedes. Not because he is wrong. He is not wrong, the other times didn’t count, but he has accepted the reality that he cannot possibly convince Morpheus of this fact.

Besides, the lure of keeping up a stupid argument shrivels and dies the moment Morpheus directs them out of the lobby area, past signs for the Theater Through the Ages exhibit, his eyes practically glowing with excitement. Hob doesn’t know what could have withstood the thrall of watching Morpheus stare at an old manuscript, a soft smile on his face. He wants to see Morpheus look this happy every day. He wants to be the reason for it.

He wants to soak in that expression for as long as he can, and that one he manages, trailing Morpheus through the exhibit like a lost puppy, absorbing exactly nothing of the room they’re in or the helpful signage or the contents of the cases. The windows could look out on the surface of Venus and there could be a sea monster in the corner giving directions and Hob would be none the wiser.

It takes Morpheus a while- Hob’s not keeping track of a stupid thing like time- to stop being dazzled by the exhibits and notice that Hob is dazzled for other reasons, but when he does he- crumples, just a little.

“You’re bored of this,” he says, as though this is an established fact Hob’s been politely not mentioning this whole time.

“No!” Hob says, “I’m not bored at all, just-” and then, thankfully, his mouth grinds to a halt before it can say any of the things his brain wants to. “A little lost?” he finally mumbles, once he’s managed to shove aside oh god please smile at me again and or climb me like a tree and actually have a conscious thought.

If nothing else, ‘lost’ has the benefit of being true, if not The Truth.

“Oh,” Morpheus says, somehow crumpling even further. A nauseous wave of self-loathing washes over Hob, for causing the light in Morpheus’ eyes to shrivel in on itself, he should have said all the stuff about oh god please smile at me again because at least that would be better than this-

“What’s that one about?” Hob says, a half step too loud, pointing at the nearest old book in a glass case.

He is, in hindsight, extremely lucky that he managed to point at a display and not a fire extinguisher.

Morpheus looks startled- Hob isn’t sure if that’s due to the words themselves, or just the volume- but turns to the case, Hob mirroring him, and begins to explain that it’s one of the few surviving volumes of a medieval playwright’s work. The explanation is stilted at first, Morpheus glancing over at Hob every few seconds as though expecting him to have turned away in disgust, but the smile slowly creeps back onto his face as Hob nods along, occasionally nudging at him to explain more.

It's Hob’s accomplishment of the year, maybe, coaxing that smile back to life, and he hangs onto Morpheus’ words like they’re oxygen as they meander through the rest of the exhibit.

The why of it all doesn’t phase him for the next several hours, because he doesn’t have time for intense self-examination. Not with Morpheus’ presence turning his mind into a dizzy slush, like his brain is made up of sunshine and honeybees and a persistent, thrumming notice me notice me notice me. Not with Morpheus failing to look aggrieved as they wander through a gallery of paintings, Hob critiquing each of them based on the presence of action and interesting animals.

Not when Morpheus grabs them each a drink at the museum café, giving Hob the chance to sneakily buy him a magnet from the gift shop, not when he looks so surprised when Hob hands him the little gift bag.

It’s only when they part ways that Hob catches himself smiling at his coffee cup, and the name Murphy in scratchy handwriting on the sleeve.

Well, shit, he thinks.

It had been easy, before, to let the tiny crush he’d been nursing wither and die. But now Morpheus is feeding it, refusing to let Hob pay for his own coffee and listening to him make stupid jokes about art history, and it has, accordingly, roared back to life, made itself comfortable in Hob’s heart.

#dreamling #my fic #unsoulmates au #we're back!

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ronearoundblindly · 16 days

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Dominance & Sleepy Sex for Fools Rush In Steve! <3

Loved your most recent one with Curtis btw 😘🖤

💜💚💜

Thank you! I'm so glad you enjoyed Curtis's dirty headcanon (for the legit-dirty man).

Now to FRI Steve, the tricky and ever-growing love of my life! Prompts from this dirty ask game.

While there are several stories in the Fools Rush In series that are suitable for all ages, this headcanon is not. MINORS DNI, please.

D - Dominance

This is a story of a very slow evolution. Steve develops excruciatingly over months and years in the FRI series--which I do love, for the record, I love to detail every little thing that makes him understand his body, his love, and how to show it--but that's for a reason.

He has the specific problem of his senses. It makes him a better soldier to feel less, be more immune to pain, and be affected very little by those hormone fluctuations in response.

Throughout Do You Two Fondue? and This All Day, we see him come into his own as a sexual partner. That blossoms further when he's finally married to Keeps (unlocking his first kink, sorta, when he gets to call you 'Mrs. Rogers' and 'my wife'), and throughout his isolation in Dignity of His Choice, Steve realizes he's not terrible for having fantasies and wanting sex.

He's...slow to initiate anything.

What I haven't gotten to write yet is Steve being exposed to a Hydra gas (sex pollen) that reduces him to his basest, most animalistic desires, and it takes a lot of therapy and talking to shake his learned-shame. He's been conditioned to believe things like dominance and anal can only ever be wrong/disrespectful to the one he loves. (It's important to specify that Steve holds himself to this standard and no one else.)

So, please enjoy a snippet where our soft!boi admits that he might be interested in more than his so-far-pretty-vanilla intimacies.

excerpt from Not A Perfect Soldier But A Good Man

“It’s still you and me, Steve. Doesn’t matter where and it doesn’t matter how. I feel just as safe and loved now as I did before. I know you think you hurt me, but I can’t watch you hurt yourself anymore.” “But I remember it.” His voice is so quiet you think he can barely hear it, but you’re so focused. Your hands cup his face and raise his jaw, but Steve won’t look at you. “We remember a lot of things th—“ “You don’t understand,” he interrupts, the words wet from his closing throat, his long lashes shimmering with tears he’s straining to keep squeezed in. “I…” There’s a beat before Steve sobs one huge release and reins it back in just as fast. The whiplash of keeping himself together forces him to his knees, planting him right at your feet. He grabs your legs, pressing his forehead to your closed thighs. “I liked it,” he whispers, likely hoping he’s too far away and too quiet for you to hear. “God help me. I liked it.”

FRI Steve never becomes what I would classify as a Dom, however. He gets better at initiating and steering sex in a way he's excited about, but I can't see him regularly and entirely taking the lead in bed.

S - Sleepy Sex

The short answer: yes.

He gets much more comfortable with the slow and easy enjoyment of morning sex.

Please enjoy another snippet from the upcoming tale about soulmarks:

excerpt from Something Wrong Is Something Right

He drags a light few fingertips across your arm, making you shiver and snuggle into him more. There’s another faint whine before you bury your head in his pec and breathe deeply. Your heart rate increases. So does his. It’s a testament to how in-sync you two are now that before you even say a word or look up at him, your arm slides down his abs and you rock your hips closer to him. Ok, now Steve’s just plain excited. He loves morning sex. Tired-You turns into a rag doll in his arms and gets loud. He feels powerful and a touch controlling, but really it doesn’t take much to get both of you off even lazily when it’s this early. You let out that little sigh, the one that pairs with the perfect hug, but as Steve has learned over the years, it really pairs with any genuine embrace between you two. It’s contentment and freedom and the invitation he’s all too willing to receive.

(I couldn't fit it in because the snippet would be too long, but one thing I just melt over is that he's categorized your scent between three levels of arousal...which, I mean, oh my, fucking swoon, am I right??? No? Ro's a perv? Ok, yeah, that checks out.)

Steve does not usually wake you up already between your legs or anything; that's a bit aggressive for him. Like, he'll rub on you but won't put his tongue or cock in you until you're aware enough to look at him.

He's been given consent to, several times, but he enjoys the participation--sharing the experience--more than just the act of getting off.

Since in FRI, Steve is a super soldier, it's unlikely he's ever completely asleep if you are significantly moving around, so you can't surprise him with a blowjob. He is finicky about those. Again, that feels impersonal and distant compared to having his arms around you.

He goes for runs so early that Steve's amazed you two have as much morning sex as you do. It turns out that's a great way to make you tired enough to fall back asleep, and you can spread out happily on his still-warm spot while he heads to the gym. You can even shower with him when he returns! Yay!

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

This completes the TWENTY-SIX dirty asks from the past week. WOOHOOOOOO, we did it, gang!!! Now right back to the drawing board/notebook/multiple scrivener projects...anyway, you get it. Thanks for reading 💕

#ro answers #dirty asks #ask game #steve rogers fanfiction #fools rush in series #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x you #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you

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neondiamond · 2 months

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🪷 Recently Read Fics - January & February 2024 🪷

Hiii happy 2024 everyone! January was a bit of a busy month which meant I didn’t actually have the time to put together a fic rec for the first time in two years, but I am back! I still didn’t read as much as I usually do but, these are all of the amazing fics I read over the past two months (from shortest to longest). Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments to show the authors your appreciation if you read any of these! 🤍

🪷 Hold On I Still Need You by @enchantedlandcoffee (1k, T)

The one where Louis goes missing and Harry desperately tries to find him.

🪷 miles away from seeing you by @loveislarryislove (1k, T)

Harry is in his final year studying marine biology, and is doing an international exchange at the University of Auckland. His boyfriend Louis stays behind in England, but they keep in touch regularly through texts, snapchats, video calls, and more.

This fic is entirely told through images of social media posts and conversations

🪷 Daydream by @allwaswell16 (2k, T)

Every Thursday, Louis nods hello to her fellow regulars at Horan’s Cafe, one of whom is the woman of her dreams.

🪷 ‘cause i built a home for you by angelsueavenue (2k, NR)

Harry doesn’t believe that baths can induce labor. His alpha, though, is prepared to prove him wrong.

🪷 What’s in a Name by @hellolovers13 (2k, T)

Louis had always known Harry was his soulmate.

The name on his arm disagreed.

But what did his soulmark know about true love anyway.

🪷 In Jest by @londonfoginacup (4k, T)

Louis, who smiles at Harry as he reclines in his chair. Louis, whose soulmark is visible thanks to his low-cut top.

Louis, Harry’s soulmate, who seems to either be blissfully ignorant of that fact or maliciously ignoring it.

Harry would really like to know which.

🪷 You’re Already Home by @londonfoginacup (5k, G)

It's Christmas Eve and Harry's life is normal. Then he finds someone's barred the door to his favourite hiding spot -- the old groundskeeper's cottage -- and suddenly Harry's life isn't normal anymore.

🪷 knowing you’re in love with me is the greatest gift of all by @greeneyesfriedrice (6k, T)

Harry just wants to fall back to sleep in his husband’s arms, wanting to treasure the quietness of Christmas morning before their kids wake up and realize what day it is.

That dream is short lived when there’s a small shriek of joy from downstairs.

🪷 Cold Hands & Warm Hearts by kingofthefridaynight (16k, E)

a wintery uni au, where they spend time with their friends, play in the snow, drink wine in their dorm and Harry loses at Scrabble. Also, they might have been in love all along.

🪷 Your Eyes Outshine the Town by @insightfulinsomniac (19k, E)

When a freak French snowstorm traps Harry's family in Paris, he's suddenly left flying home for a Christmas spent alone. However, everything changes after a chance encounter with an undeniably attractive, generous alpha who suggests that Harry join his family's Christmas celebrations. Against his better judgment, Harry agrees, and follows Louis back to Doncaster for the holidays.

Little does he know, he'll not only become attached to the alpha, but to his entire family. Maybe his Christmas won't be as lonely as he expected.

Complete and utter fluff ensues. Sappy Christmas tropes abound.

🪷 To you I can admit, I’m just too soft for all of it by @starryhaze28 (28k, NR)

“Harry?” Louis asks when he hears the frantic crying coming through the speaker. “H, darling what's wrong?”

Concerned, Louis puts on his shoes as he keeps hearing the sobs. It’s the middle of the night and the phone call has definitely pulled Louis out of his deep slumber, but Harry is crying, and Louis has to be with him.

“It’ll be okay, baby, I'm gonna come over, okay? You just- Haz you have to send me your address, yeah? Can you do that for me?” Louis asks, trying to remain as poised as possible as he presses his phone between his ear and shoulder so he can grab his jacket.

“No.” Harry cries out. “It's all wrong, Lou- It’s-” Another sob. “I hate it, Lou, I hate it so, so much, make it stop.”

🪷 You’re Not My Type (still I fall) by @imogenleewriter (38k, M)

His mum is going to kill him!

Well, not kill him. Just give him a right telling off, make him admit she'd been right, then try to confine him to his room until they found a hefty Alpha to look after him and rein him in or something.

She wouldn't manage, of course. Harry is only twenty-four and has no inclination to settle down at all, especially not at the behest of an Alpha.

But, as his mum would point out, that was the same stubborn attitude that got him here: in his car, in a thunderstorm, on the side of a forsaken lane of some little countryside town in Yorkshire. His mobile's got no signal, his GPS isn't working, and he's running low on petrol, so he can't even use the heater.

Oh, and most importantly, his car is stuck in the mud, so even if the GPS was working and he knew where to go, he wouldn’t be able to.

He's been in stickier spots; he reminds himself. Way stickier. This is just a bit of rain; it'll blow over. Then Harry will just... well, alright, he isn't entirely sure what to do when the rain stops because he'll still be stuck and lost. But, hey, there won't be any rain, which is something to cheer about.

#28th appreciation #fic rec #monthly recs #tracksintheam

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unorthodoxx-page · 1 year

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Avatar: The Last Airbender Fic Recs

So, since I have some readers who aren’t familiar with atla, I have decided to use this opportunity to list some of my favorite atla fics! I will say one or two pairings are Zuko/Sokka, so I’ll tag them for people who don’t like the pairing. There are also two Zuko/Katara fics listed below and they are labeled as well.

ALL STORIES ARE LINKED IN THE NAME!

1. While Mighty Oaks Do Fall by @witch-of-endor (Sokka/Zuko) can’t rave about this more. I live for the next update - IN PROGRESS

High Sage Kenji blesses Fire Prince Zuko with the resilience of the reed, who bends in the wind and never breaks. When he is done, Fire Prince Ozai narrows his eyes, seemingly displeased by this blessing. But Kenji does not speak for himself; he is only a vessel.

The newly-crowned Fire Lord Ozai offers his firstborn son to service in the temple.

This turns out to be a catastrophic mistake.

2. Mountains and Badgermolehills by @glass-0nion 10/10 Zuko joins the Gaang early - COMPLETE

After the Blue Spirit frees the Avatar from the Pohuai Stronghold, Admiral Zhao captures Prince Zuko under suspicion of treason. Isolated from his Uncle and his crew, Zuko has only one ally: the chatty prisoner one cell over.

3. The Blackfish and the Dragon by ama (unsure if they have a tumblr) I don’t typically read Zuko/Katara but I love this!! 10/10 COMPLETE

Katara grew up in the Southern Water Tribe under the tutelage of Hama, the only waterbender ever to have escaped Fire Nation captivity. When Zuko arrives at the South Pole, seeking the Avatar, they are more than ready to defend him. Iroh watches as his beloved nephew throws himself at the ice walls again and again in an impossible siege–-and resolves to do anything it takes to save his nephew from himself. With the assistance of the Order of the White Lotus, he deposes his brother on the Day of Black Sun.

A week later, the Southern Water Tribe receives a petition for peace, and a proposal of marriage.

4. Such Selfish Prayers by @andromeda3116 another Zuko/Katara story! I loved this from Katara’s point of view. COMPLETE

Katara's ambition, so long set aside for the good of others, breaks free and sets fire to her soul. Or, Katara has a vision of her canon future, casts it aside, and becomes a world-changing politician instead.

5. The Dragon-King’s Temple by Kryal (unsure if they have a tumblr) now this is a CLASSIC crossover fic in the fandom. Not to age myself here, but I remember when the first chapter was posted as a teaser, then waiting, like, two years for the update. This might be nostalgia talking but I don’t think so 100/10 no pairing. Toph and Zuko adventure. crossover with Stargate SG-1 COMPLETE

Through the spite of the spirits or plain rotten chance, a door that would have been better left untouched has opened. On the other hand, with Fire and Earth as one's allies, sometimes escaping is the easy part.

Even the Dragon-King's temple floods.

6. The Family You Choose by TunaFishChris (unsure if they have a tumblr) a platonic soulmate with all the Gaang (including Suki and Zuko). Zuko’s point of view and it’s REALLY good. COMPLETE

Some people are born with soulmarks. Zuko has them, but his grandfather burned them off because they "make you weak."

Team Avatar has a few things to say about that.

Enjoy this small feast of Avatar the last air bender content!

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dodger-chan · 1 year

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I am, in general, not a fan of soulmates as a concept. But I got this idea on the train home from the hockey games I went to today and now I have 750 unedited words of literal soulmates platonic Stobin, set between seasons two and three.

---

The girls locker room was Robin’s least favorite place in all of Hawkins. Too many undressed and half-dressed classmates who might think she looked at them too long, or notice her looking away too quickly. Too many opportunities to get found out, exposed.

“What the hell, Buckley?” Robin tensed. One of the senior girls, Jessica Howard was staring at Robin’s soulmark. “You’re Steve Harrington’s soulmate?”

“No?” It shouldn’t have been a question. Steve Harrington was rich and popular and exactly the kind of person who hated people like her.

“Those letters sure look like his.” The older girl jabbed her finger into Robin’s hip where the Russian words were printed. “Same nonsense.”

“It’s Russian.” Robin had been studying the language as best as she could in Hawkins since her mark came in. It was nonsense, from what Robin could tell. What was a square of stars, anyway? My mom said it probably meant I was going to marry a defector. Maybe he will, too?”

“I don’t know. They sure look like the same letters.” Beth Marks, another senior girl, was now studying Robin’s bare hip.

For fucks sake how many girls had Harrington slept with?

“I hope not. Steve Harrington’s an ass. I’d rather have no soulmate than him.”

It didn’t take long for the whole school to hear. Robin braced herself to hear from Harrington directly. Instead, she got Nancy Wheeler joining her in the cafeteria.

“Steve’s really not that bad.” No preamble, straight to business.

“Not that bad isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement.” Robin had regretted calling Harrington an ass almost as soon as she’d said it. Not that he wasn’t, but he could be the nicest guy on the planet and Robin still wouldn’t want to date him.

“So, I know he has a reputation, and it’s not entirely undeserved, but he’s really very sweet and kind. We didn’t break up because he was an ass.” Nancy fiddled awkwardly with the food on her tray. “I know it must be hard to find your soulmate so early, before you’ve had much time to date at all, but I do think you should give Steve a chance.”

“I’m not going to date your ex to assuage your feelings of guilt for cheating on him.”

Nancy flushed red, anger or embarrassment, stood abruptly and stalked away. It was unusually satisfying.

The next people to bother Robin about her soulmark were Harrington’s former acolytes, Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins.

“Show us.” Perkins demanded. They’d cornered her after band practice, practically pushed her into one of the girls’ bathrooms. The one no one used. The one where they wouldn’t be interrupted, however long they wanted to keep Robin trapped.

She should definitely just show them the mark and hope that was enough to get them off her case.

“I thought the only people who saw Harrington’s mark were the girls he fucked.” Robin looked from Perkins to Hagan. “I didn’t realize you three had that sort of relationship.”

“You bitch.” Hagan grabbed her shirt collar and pulled. Hard. Perkins did not seem inclined to stop him.

“The fuck are you doing?” A somewhat breathless Steve Harrington stood in the doorway. He stepped inside and let the door swing shut behind him. “Let. Her. Go.”

Hagan did.

The tension in the bathroom was intense. The hatred in Hagan’s glare, the anger in Harrington’s. The sparkle of delight Robin saw in Perkins’ eyes was the one that shook her the most.

“Get out.” Harrington snarled. Hagan started to reply, but his girlfriend beat him to it.

“Of course.” She placed a restraining hand on Hagan’s shoulder. “We only wanted to know if she really was your soulmate.”

From Perkins’ smirk, Robin thought the older girl considered it confirmed.

“Out.” Harrington repeated. Perkins led Hagan out. Harrington shifted his attention to her. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He turned to leave. “Wait. You don’t want to see? To be sure?”

“Why?” Harrington looked back at her. Without the anger he just looked tired. “You don’t want to be my soulmate. So why would it matter if you are?”

He made a good point. Lots of people never found their soulmate; it wouldn’t be weird for them to just assume they were in that category. In a couple of months, Harrington would be off at college. In another year Robin would graduate and get the hell out of Hawkins.

They never had to see each other again.

If the thought made her a little sad, she didn’t have to tell anyone.

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #soulmates au #short ficlet #my fic

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asherthehimbo · 5 months

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Always Black Cats And Bitter Coffee: Chapter 6 [part 4]

Chapter 6 [part 4] : finale

warnings: mentions of stabbing, guns, shooting, two deaths, blood, anxiety, blame, guilt

It was a few weeks after Minho and Yunho found you, bound and gagged, with a knife sticking out of your abdomen. Now you were standing in court, the best lawyer your parents could buy one one side of you, Minho on the other, he holds your hand in comfort, squeezing it every now and then to reassure you. Behind you, all your friends are sitting down. Even your parents decided to take time out of their schedule to support you in this trail.

Since you had finally healed enough, it was time to put Sanni on trial, and lucky you because you were her main victim, meaning you had to testify to everything she did. The courtroom is silent, no one dares say anything, and her side is empty. The jury sends you sympathetic glances despite not knowing the whole story, and you hate it. You never did like being looked at in sympathy.

You can’t breathe in here, waiting for Sanni to walk in, the pressure is killing you, you tell Minho you’re gonna go take a walk outside, clear your head a bit, he asks if he needs to come with you, but you tell him you need to be alone. You walk to the back of the courtroom where the door is situated, and right before you open it a loud bang echos from the other side, you hesitate for a moment before hastily opening the door, worried about what had happened, the people in the courtroom behind start to crown together to try and see for themselves, and you vaguely register your friends calling for you.

The scene before you makes your stomach churn all over again, the new scar now placed over your soulmark paining as if the wound had just been made. You look at the security guard lying down on the ground, a bullet hole in his head, next to him stands Sanni, blood splattered over the uniform she wears. She looks tired, her roots are growing out, the pink dye in her hair fading. If this was another time, another place you might have felt bad for her, but you can’t bring yourself to do so anymore.

She looks at you, and there are tears in her eye’s. A part of you is scoffing at the fact that she can actually feel human emotion, but the other part of you, the younger part, the part of you that spent years loving her, it breaks. “You love him, don’t you?” she cocks her head in Minho’s direction, you can’t bring yourself to speak, so you just nod. She brings the gun up to her heart, right where the fake soulmark she plastered on herself is located.

“My heart’s only ever belonged to you, It can’t continue beating without knowing that it’s beating for you.” You wonder where all the other guards are, if nobody’s going to stop her, why she’s suddenly showing such raw emotions that she’s never shown before. “I just want you to live with the fact that the end of my beating heart is your fault.” She says, and your body moves before you can stop it. You reach out, hand brushing with hers as she pulls the trigger, the blood splattering from her heart directly onto you, your hand is intertwined with hers as she falls, causing you to go down with her.

You can’t help the tears that fall, and you hate it. You hate her. You hate the fact that despite everything she’s done, there’s still a part of you that loves her. You feel someone kneeling behind you and wrap their arms around you, vaguely registering its Minho, your actual soulmate, the man you are in love with. You fall backward, releasing your grip from Sanni’s warm hand, and the cold metal weapon rests inside it. You cry into Minho’s chest, not paying attention to the commotion surrounding you.

abc x 2 masterlist | Soulbound masterlist | Stray kids masterlist

Current Taglist[7/30]: @i-dont-know-me-either @gaysontheprince @skzhoes @xavi-in-kpopland @moonlight-894 @foxilsdenn @conwunder

note: rahh, we finally ended the series! thank you to all of you who read and enjoyed my work🫶 I hope you look forward to the next installment of soulbound. and thank you to @wolfferno , who helped me with the last chapter🫶

also do you guys want memes or no???

#asher 🌑 speaks #skz #stray kids #smau #crossover #skz smau #abc×2 smau #kpop x male reader #stray kids lee know

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complicatedchelsea · 1 year

Text

Fallen Through Time For You Masterlist:

Synopsis: Eddie Munson had his life turned upside down, literally. While he and the gang are dealing with the aftermath of Vecna, a new problem literally falls into their laps. Sydney Thompson, a twenty-year old from the future. The only explanation? The soulmark on her wrist tying her to Eddie. The only problem? There are no soulmarks from she's from. How will Eddie and Sydney interact? Will she stay or will some other power ruin the only good thing to come into Eddie's life?

Prologue: She Fell From The Sky

(Our group of mismatched heroes meet Sydney Thompson. What happens now?)

Chapter One: A Phone Book From The 80's?

(Sydney wakes up and the party discovers why she might have fallen into their laps.)

Chapter Two: It’s Kind Of My Thing To Pick Up Strays

(Hopper and Joyce show up. Sydney learns more about the group and learns that maybe landing in the past wasn’t so bad.)

Chapter Three: I Hate Pickles

(Sydney spends more time with the party. How hard is it to let someone in when you've spent your whole life pushing them away?)

Chapter Four: Can I Hold Your Hand?

(Is it really a night with the party if crazy shit doesn’t happen?)

Chapter Five: Conspiracies for Breakfast

(Is Sydney who she thinks she is?)

Chapter Six: Cafeteria Confessions and Palace Punches

(Sydney meets a new face in Hawkins. Will this person be friend or foe?)

Chapter Seven: A Little Bit of Government Hush Money and a Lot of Self Doubt

(Eddie is scared and has doubts. Sydney's trying to ground herself in the new life she has. A sprinkle of our favorite Uncle Wayne.)

Chapter Eight: Meeting the Parents, Meeting the Uncle

(Sydney finally gets to meet Uncle Wayne. A sprinkle of self doubt and plenty of fluff that will give you an overdose. Also both of our babes gets flustered.)

Chapter Nine: So You Think You Can Read Me?

(Sydney learns about Eddie's scars and gets to meet the famous Murray. )

Chapter Ten: Ladies and Gentlemen, Steve Harrington

(Sydney and Steve spend the day together. Slight angst that we all know and love.)

Chapter Eleven: Is It Illegal If She Deserved It?

(Sydney and Eddie get harassed in a supermarket. Will Eddie try to push her away?)

Chapter Twelve: We Built This House of Memories

(The story of the holidays with our lovely two characters. Sydney gets to spend Halloween with Eddie, Thanksgiving with an actual family, Christmas feeling like she finally has a home, the New Year with the man she loves, and a new look on her birthday. )

Chapter Thirteen: You Won't Embarrass Me Again

(Sydney has an altercation with Jason while waiting for Eddie. What happens? Will he retaliate?)

Chapter Fourteen: He's Not Going To Touch You Again

Eddie’s POV of the attack. How bad is she?

Chapter Fifteen: A New Normal

The aftermath of the attack. Sydney and Eddie have their first big fight.

Chapter Sixteen: It's Been A Year Now

Chapter Seventeen: A Place She Shouldn't Be

Chapter Eighteen: Through His Eyes

Chapter Nineteen:

Chapter Twenty:

(Chapter Length about 40 Chapters!)

(All links should be up and working!)

#masterlist #wip #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson series #stranger things #stranger things series #eddie munson fic #time travel au #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x fem!reader

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 1 year

Note

hey so u just shared this post:

"When the characters in the fanfiction you’re reading are both hopelessly in love with eachother but they think the other doesn’t like them back and they are just communicating horribly and getting interupted at al the wrong times and you just freaking"

aaaand I wanted to know if you have any recommendations or know any sterek fics like that?

Yeah! I love oblivious!bbs.

Erasing Him by scarlettletterr

(1/1 I 2,058 I Mature)

When Derek was 15, he thought he met his soulmate. But then, she burned his family. When Stiles was 8, he met his soulmate. But he wanted nothing to do with him.

--------

Soulmate AU where even if you get your soulmark removed, it shows up under UV light.

a study on cat's behavior by peachicicle

(2/2 I 3,408 I Explicit)

“Hey Derek,” He snapped out of his trance, “Do you like cats?”

“What?” It seemed like Stiles kept catching him by surprise most of the time these days.

“Do you like cats?” Stiles said while slowly raising his hand up to the bookshelf, picked one out and inched the book out of its place, then dropped it on the floor.

Derek gawked at him, mouth dropped in silence.

Stiles kept staring at him and dropped another book, and another, and another, getting closer to the much rarer book section of the bookshelf.

-----

Stiles goes out of his way to tell Derek that he like him.

as the skyline splits in two by dumpac

(1/1 I 6,142 I Teen)

The whole school, Stiles included, is just waiting for Scott and Derek Hale to act on their unresolved sexual tension, because of course the sweetest omega and the most handsome alpha of Beacon Hills would get together. And Stiles swears he wants to support his best friend the best he can. So what if he has a crush as big as Jupiter on Derek Hale?

Navigating This Space Between Us by Omni

(1/1 I 9,641 I Explicit)

Derek gets forced to watch some sci-fi show about a surly, secret prince and the sarcastic young spaceship captain hired to aid him on his quest. Strangely enough, he finds himself hooked on it. So much so that he's even drawn into the fandom. There he meets a popular fanfic author with an oddly endearing attitude, and he gets rather smitten. Maybe this mystery guy could actually help get him to stop pining for Stiles...

The One with the Stolen Hat by nerdfightingwhovian

(14/? I 50,964 I Explicit)

In high school, Stiles stole Derek's hat and everyone who hears the story of Stiles stealing Derek's favorite (and only) hat begins to ship it. Luckily, Stiles never found out about the ridiculous number of people who ship it. Except, one day he does and he confronts Derek about it.

That is where the story begins, the cat is out of the bag and Stiles, the curious person he is, wants to know how it started. So now, Derek has to tell him.

Except, what starts out as Derek and Stiles laughing over ridiculous stories about stolen hats and glittery campaign cards becomes something more.

Season of the Witch by gryffindor17

(22/22 I 95,013 I Explicit)

“I just want to feel whole again.” Stiles said weakly, turning his head to look searchingly to Derek. “I’ve got all this…guilt…this pain…and it feels like it’s a part of who I am now. This…constant ache. I just wish there was a way to get rid of it.”

Stiles watched as something flickered to life in Derek’s eyes, and suddenly he was off like a rocket.

After the Nogitsune's been killed, Stiles still finds himself haunted by what it had done with his body. Try as they might, The Pack can't seem to console their friend... That is until Stiles mentions something that jogs Derek's memory and he takes off to find a friend from the past who he thinks can salvage Stiles's mind. After all, she'd done it for him.

And if she happens to become a part of the pack while she's at it, well, no one's really complaining.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #pining #oblivious!stiles #oblivious!derek

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panthera-tigris-venenata · 5 months

Text

Soulmate AU

I wrote a thing. Please be proud of me.

(Soulmate AU – first touch leaves a mark. Only after a certain age though cos getting a mark when you can’t remember it sounds impractical and also creepy.)

Claudine uncomfortably tugs at the hems of her long gloves – the night is too hot for such a thing and yet, here she is. Dressed up head to toe in heavy fabrics, no skin in sight.

And she’s not the only one, far from it: In fact, most of the people in the party are dressed like this, save for few:

The Captain, of course, and Harry right at her side, as always. They laugh and flaunt their shared soulmarks shamelessly, as if they weren’t an impossible sin.

Villains can’t love, you see. They shouldn‘t at the very least.

And yet, those two don’t seem to care.

Claudine scoffs at that and turns away from them, carefully avoiding as much human contact as she can.

Her eyes turn to Harriet Hook, her first mate’s older sister. She, at least, has the decency to pretend that her soulmark isn’t what it is. Just a permanent bruise, you see, tainting her knuckles. Just all the fights that she gets to and that get to her, and she has the right hook to prove it. What a coincidence it matches the weirdly shaped <i>scar</i> on the nose of Anthony Tremaine, isn’t it?

(There is a rumour that Anthony hides another soulmark among the near-permanent dye stains at his hands, too; that the colourful streak in Ginny Gothel’s hair hasn’t always been there.)

Claudine doesn’t listen to rumours, though, she will have you know.

She also thinks this pretence of theirs would work a lot better if they weren’t basically eye fucking in the plain view of the whole deck, but who is she to say?

She scoffs at them and steps aside to avoid knocking over: Uma and Harry had decided to dance, pressed close together and with no regards for anyone who might be standing in their way. Obviously.

„Make room for Jesus,“ she hisses, hopefully not loud enough for them to hear her.

Harry glares daggers at her over Uma’s shoulder for a split-second before inevitably forgetting that anything but Uma exists in this word again, and Claudine shakes her head at that.

She ducks further into the crowd to get away from the dance floor, still carefully not to touch anyone, despite all the layers. Dancing is a sin, anyway, nevermind the spectacle the two of them are doing of themselves.

She comes to a freer place and shakes out her arms. People, you see.

Then she nods at Desiree and Bonny who are leaning at the railing and passing a bottle between them.

„Lovely to see you too, Claudine,“ says Desiree. Claudine makes a face in return. She did already greet them, so they should just shut up.

Desiree flips her middle finger at her and Bonny laughs; „Join us?“ she says, holding out the flask.

Sure, yeah, join them. That sounds reasonable. Claudine leans on the railing too and carefully takes the flask from Bonny. Their fingers don’t meet for even a second, separated by two pairs of gloves as they are.

„We were just talking ’bout the marks,“ Desiree’s slurring a little already, „Who’ll get theirs next and all that.“

Bonny giggles at her crewmate and Claudine decides that getting a drink counts as an answer. She lifts the flask to her lips.

„’m telling you, Bonny, it’s gonna be you! I mean, you get to touch people all the time!“

„I’m a medic, Desiree! Me touching people usually involves me literally sewing them up!“

„Yes!“ Desi’s giggling intensifies, „Imagine how cool of a mark would that make!“

Bonny rolls her eyes, takes the flask from Claudine, and proceeds to lightly thud Desi on the forehead with the bottom.

„Hey!“

„You deserved that,“ notes Claudine dryly. That’s just what one gets for talking about soulmarks so blatantly.

„Hey!“

„Anyway,“ interrupts Bonny, „It’s gonna be one of the Tremaines, I tell you.“

„How do you know they’re not hiding any marks under the dye already?“ asks Claudine offhandedly. At least something would the horrid dye be good for, then.

„Ooh now there’s a hot take!“

„Hey, you heard about Ginny and Anthony, right? I bet Harriet’s hiding a second soulmark too, I tell you.“

„How much are ya willing to bet?“

„How would you find out anyway?“ Claudine interrupts before the conversation sinks into an outright betting session.

„Oh I–“ Bonny clasps her gloved hand over Desiree’s mouth before she can speak and answers: „I’m a medic. I’d simply take a shift on Hope with Marya, Harriet’s bound to come sooner or later.“

That is… Reasonable answer, actually. And better that anything Desiree was going to say, Claudine is sure.

A whirl of red and gold flies around and Claudine presses further into the railing instinctively: CJ Hook. Hair unbound and gloves nowhere in sight, and honestly, it’s a miracle she didn’t lose her coat yet.

„…Is she old enough for a mark yet?“ asks Desiree, voicing everyone’s thoughts.

„I think so…?“ answers Bonny.

„Pretty sure this is her birthday party,“ adds Claudine, „So, yes. I think.“ Whatever. Time doesn’t really matter on the damned Isle, does it now? A year give or take, they’re all doomed already, so where’s the point.

„Right,“ shrugs Bonny, „Sounds right, yeah.“

Desiree just dissolves into laughter again: „Excuse to party as good as any! Now, gimme that!“ She reaches for the bottle Bonny’s holding.

„Girl, I tell you, if you turn up morning in the infirmary with a killer hangover, I’m not treating you.“

„C’mon, Bonny, you’re more fun than that!“

Claudine ignores her bickering crewmates, looking out into the crowd; looking for black-and-red-and-white, now matter how much she wishes she wouldn’t. There. On the improvised dance floor, right beneath her cousin’s makeshift podium: Ivy de Vil.

Dancing like there’s no tomorrow and showing off so much skin it should be considered a sin. Claudine looks anyway.

„Ivy de Vil,“ she says, interrupting whatever argument Bonny and Desiree had going on by now.

„What?“

„Ivy’s gonna be the next one with a mark,“ she clarifies. Just – look at her. She’s asking for it, tempting destiny in that daredevil way of hers. Claudine bites back a sigh and tugs on her gloves; she gets back to bickering with her crewmates and only looks at the dance floor sometimes.

She’s unsure of how much time has passed when Gil appears in front of her. „Claudine,“ he says, „Dance with me?“

She looks at him blankly, at the hand he held out in front of himself; he’s even wearing gloves now. Borrowed, probably, but still.

„Please?“

„Fine,“ Claudine sighs as she puts her gloved hand in his, „If you insist.“

He beams at her: „I do!“

She lets him lead her towards the dance floor and as they walk away, she hears a badly-whispered: „Hey! What about Gil’s soulmark?“

She thinks Gil only pretends he didn’t hear.

They dance for a bit, her back to the podium and <i>not</i> the crowd, which is nice of Gil, actually, but it also gives her an excellent view on Uma and Harry who apparently decided that the middle of the dance floor is the perfect make-out spot.

Whatever. It’s their ship anyway.

(It gives her view on the red-and-black-and-white, too, not that she cares.)

Claudine moves so that Gil’s body would block the sigh, and, well, if she sways a little? She’s just dancing, moving to the music.

(She shouldn’t do that either, but oh well.)

She can no longer see Ivy.

It comes as a surprise, then, when the de Vil heiress suddenly drops at them: „Claudine!“ she greets, kissing her on the cheek. Claudine’s mind freezes. „Gil! Gil, can I steal your dance partner away a bit?“

To his credit, Gil looks at her for any signs of disapproval or discomfort before he says that, yeah, sure, go ahead. Claudine doesn’t think she’s capable of thinking straight, though, not right now, not after–

She tentatively lifts her hand to her cheek, brushing the fingertip of the glove over the skin.

Ivy’s voice shakes her out of her mind a bit, her accent and „Oh, you’re both such dears,“ and still, she can do nothing but give her her hand and dance with her.

(Pressed close, entirely too close, but does it matter?)

Claudine can’t remember how long she dances when Ivy leaves her, how many songs it was. She just stays standing under the podium, trying to find her in the crowd. No such luck.

No comment from Diego either, that God.

„Dance with me again?“ Gil offers, and Claudine does. More people join them then, forming a circle and taking turns in the middle, and Claudine almost doesn’t mind it at all.

The party ends when CJ sets a house nearby on fire, proclaiming it her birthday surprise and gleefully cackling at the fireworks that go on and on through the cacophony; Claudine decides to leave for the crew’s quarters.

She doesn’t need to hear the older two Hooks and Uma yelling at CJ for lighting up shit at the port up close, thank you for asking.

Besides, the fire’s pretty: She stands just in front of the doors inside, looking at it, transfixed.

„Beautiful, isn’t it? So alluring.“ She hears Ivy say, but when she tears her eyes of the flames, the de Vil is gone again.

(If anything else catches fire tonight, it’ll be written off as CJ’s fault, won’t it?)

But she shakes her head and walks in anyway.

Walking around one of the mirrors scattered around the Revenge, shattered and cloudy as they are, she looks at herself briefly as she passes by. Just- Just because she wants to, you see.

She notices a smear of colour on her cheek: Ivy must have printed her lipstick on her with the kiss. She wipes it down with her sleeve absentmindedly.

It doesn’t go away.

#This is so asking for part two but anyway #ivy de vil/claudine frollo #ivy de vil #claudine frollo #disney descendants #soulmate au #first touch lingers #what do i know #party #alcohol #harry hook #cj hook #uma descendants #gil legume

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3tabbiesandalab · 2 years

Text

My whole world

A little drabble based off a specific prompt about a Bob Floyd x shy reader who struggles with the outside world from @ateliefloresdaprimavera

Enjoy!

Soulmarks were a rarity these days, time and the changing world had somehow almost snuffed them out. But every so often when two people’s eyes meet for the first time, their initials appeared on the inside of their soulmate’s wrist, tying them together in their lifetime.

YFN was a sweet, quiet, girl who led a pretty insular life. She was kind and creative, loved music and reading literature and was a children’s book author. The job suited her perfectly as she struggled a little in crowds and with noise so tended to keep to herself, preferring to be a homebody and spend her days at her charming little house by the ocean in San Diego. Her family had passed away a few years back, so now it was just her in the little sanctuary away from the world.

When she was a bit younger, her friends would drag her out to bars and clubs to meet guys, but YFN found the atmosphere difficult, and it upset her that men only seemed to talk to her to meet her friends. Over time, YFN’s close friends came to understand her situation and after they had fallen in love and had children it was easier for her to be part of their lives again. YFN would sometimes leave the safety of her ‘tiny piece of the world’ to spend time with them.

For herself, YFN had pretty much given up on the idea of finding love, it was hard to meet anyone when you chose to shut yourself away from the world. Her friends had encouraged her to try dating apps or singles nights, but her anxiety made it hard for her and it was terrifying for her to open up her ‘small world’ for a man who might not stick around. YFN would often dream about falling in love and had concluded that the only way it would ever happen to her would be to get a soulmark. But soulmates were very uncommon, so it was highly unlikely that it would ever occur.

YFN made the best of her life though; she sung off key to the music she liked, she read anything and everything, took long walks on the beach, wrote her children’s books, loved her friends and her neighbours, and spoilt her beloved pseudo nieces and nephews. For the most part she was happy, but there was that piece of her heart that longed for a man who loved her just as she was. Who would understand her quiet nature and be okay with it.

One sunny Sunday afternoon, YFN was sitting on her porch, cup of tea in hand and laptop open, writing down her next idea for a book. She had felt strange all day, not in a bad way, but it was hard to explain. It just felt like she was bubbling with hope and excitement, and she swore black and blue that her wrist had been tingling.

YFN smiled as her neighbours Penny and Amelia drove into their driveway, returning from grocery shopping. When the old lady who had lived next door for years sold her house 3 years ago, YFN had panicked whether she’d get along with whoever moved in. But it was all for nothing because as soon as she’d met the sweet, kind mother and daughter duo, YFN knew she could let them into her ‘little world’.

She waved at the Benjamin’s and got up out of her seat to help them with their groceries.

“Thanks honey, you didn’t have to worry.” Penny smiled at YFN.

“It’s no problem, Penny,” she said as she lifted one of the paper bags. “How’s school going Amelia?”

Amelia sighed dramatically and YFN laughed. “English is kicking my butt.”

“I’d be happy to help you if you need,” she said genuinely.

“Thanks YFN. I might just take you up on that.” Amelia smiled.

As they walked up the front path to the house, YFN’s stomach swirled and her chest felt heavy, but not her typical anxious feelings. It was like butterflies and warmth and she had no idea how to explain that. YFN swore the tingling feeling in her wrist had just got stronger as well. She paused to take a deep breath and roll her wrist around to adjust to the foreignness of it.

“Honey are you ok? What’s wrong with your hand?” Penny asked concerned.

YFN shrugged. “I don’t know Penny. I can’t explain it. It’s like there’s something under the skin and I’ve felt nervous and excited all day and have no idea why.”

Penny was about to reply when an old pick-up truck pulled up in the driveway and Maverick, Penny’s boyfriend jumped out of the passenger seat.

“Ladies! Nice to see yoouuu…” he slurred slightly as he approached them. Clearly, he’d been day drinking.

He reached their little group and placed a wet kiss on Penny’s cheek and Amelia laughed. “Had a good time at the bar then?” she teased her mother’s boyfriend.

“Suuurre did. Luckily the sweetheart who is Lieutenant Floooyd here offered to drive me home to my girls.” Maverick said with his hand on his heart.

YFN chuckled and turned to look at the man getting out of the driver’s side of the truck. He was very attractive; tall, light brown hair styled neatly and wire frame glasses. The buzz that had been affecting her body all day suddenly became more intense as he walked towards her with a wide smile.

And then she met his cerulean blue eyes.

“Aaaghh.” YFN squealed as her wrist started burning and she dropped the bag of groceries on the ground in surprise.

She couldn’t take her eyes off the man, and she was rooted to her spot. His eyes widened and the smile on his face turn to a slightly pained grimace and he grabbed his arm with his other hand.

YFN broke his gaze to rub her wrist. As she turned it over, she gasped as there in neat cursive were initials.

R F

A soulmark. This couldn’t be real.

“Oh my god,” the man whispered in a deep, southern voice.

YFN looked up at him in shock, and saw a wide, warm smile spread across his face. Abandoning the groceries on the ground her feet moved on their own and she crossed the short distance to him. Typically YFN would never approach anyone like this, her nervousness and shyness would hold her back. But she felt drawn to him, like there was an invisible string connecting them.

“Hi. I umm…wow… I’m not sure what to do here,” he laughed lightly.

YFN shook her head incredulously. “I ah… neither do I,” she chuckled. “I never thought… it’s so rare,” she said in disbelief.

“Names would be a goood start.” Maverick slurred and Penny with a happy smile on her face, hit him across the chest good naturedly and crouched down to pick up the discarded groceries. Amelia who was grinning ear to ear grabbed Maverick’s arm.

“By the way. Her name is YFN,” she giggled at the man, as she followed her mother and dragged Maverick inside the house.

“YFN… that’s a beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” he said in awe as his soulful eyes pierced hers, “I’m Bob.”

YFN looked at him in momentary confusion and she quickly checked her wrist.

Bob looked sheepishly as he rubbed his hand on the back of his head. “Oh sorry. Robert Floyd. Everyone calls me Bob. But you can call me whatever you want though because I’m your ah… your my…”

“Soulmate.” YFN breathed out in wonder. The butterflies, the hope and excitement she had been all feeling all day, was for him.

A wide, loving grin exploded on Bob’s face and YFN felt a matching smile break out on hers as he reached for her and took her hand in hers. As their skin touched, she was overcome by love, warmth, and safety.

YFN’s ‘whole world’ suddenly just got a lot bigger and brighter.

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader

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just-j-really · 3 months

Text

Unsoulmates part four (a new hope)

Masterpost

Hob texts Morpheus two days after he and Audrey break up, because he's got two tickets to a ballet and absolutely no use for them anymore. He'd offered them to Gwen, first, but her girlfriend (her soulmate, actually, her soulmate she'd met at a Ren Faire in a moment out of a fairytale, complete with a kiss-print soulmark on the back of her hand) has even less interest in ballet than Hob does. And he knows bringing it up to any of his other friends will only get him concerned questions about why he keeps doing this to himself, wouldn't he be happier if he stopped actively avoiding his One True Love.

So offering them to Morpheus, who hasn't spoken to him in a month but probably won't do that, is the best option by default.

Shockingly, Morpheus replies. He even offers to meet Hob at the White Horse, a pub they'd frequented back when they were still sort of talking, to pick up the tickets.

Even more shockingly, Morpheus is already at a table when Hob arrives at the pub four nights later, like he's planning to sit and talk with Hob. Like before.

Hob is not entirely sure how he feels about that, but he's also running on maybe three hours of sleep, and the chair next to Morpheus looks extremely inviting, so he lets himself topple into it.

"If you ask me how I'm doing I'm going to get up and leave," he warns Morpheus, leaning back against the headrest and closing his eyes. He might just take a nap here. It's been impossible to fall asleep, these past few days, without the warmth of someone else in bed with him. And it's so easy, lying there with the tangible reminder of how alone he is, to let his thoughts spiral into why didn't she stay why didn't she even consider it wasn't it worth it?

But here, with the warmth and the noise of people around him and this unbelievably comfortable armchair, an uneasy half-doze starts to overtake him. He's drifting, wondering where in the world Morpheus found an armchair, when a soft tapping noise drags him back to reality.

When he opens his eyes, Morpheus is sliding a beer across the table to him. He doesn't say anything, just looks at Hob levelly, and Hob thinks that's why, why he opens his mouth to say thanks, what comes out instead is a cracking, "Do you know what it's like, having people congratulate you for having your heart ripped out?"

His voice sounds even worse than he feels.

Morpheus inclines his head at Hob in that familiar little nod; go on, I'm listening.

It's a small kindness, but it still makes Hob feel like his chest is cracking in half.

"Everyone acts like it's fine. Like it's a good thing. 'Yeah it hurts now but at least you'll stop wasting your life, at least now you'll find the person you were meant for.'"

He takes a breath. Takes a drink. "Nevermind that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her."

And then the whole story is spilling out of him, in an out-of-order slurry: the moment it happened- Audrey gesturing wildly as they ducked through the concert crowd, hand in hand; her stunned little gasp as her arm bumped another emphatic gesture-er; they way he'd stood there, confused, still holding Audrey's hand, while she and her soulmate stared longingly into each other's eyes.

The way she'd yes-anded even his stupidest bits, the way they'd had their own shared language of in-jokes, the way conversations with her were a dance and she always knew the next step.

The way, within a week, she'd scrubbed herself out of his life entirely, like she needed to fake her death to start her new life with The One.

"And- and I knew marriage wasn't happening, right?" he finds himself saying, some time and several drinks later. "Fuckin nobody marries their not-soulmate, which is STUPID. It's so stupid, remind me to tell you how stupid it is. But I thought. I thought we- I thought there was something. Something good. I thought maybe we could last."

The sentence gets much too wobbly at the end, and Hob swipes a hand roughly over his eyes.

"What did you want, then?" Morpheus asks.

Hob glares at him.

"If not marriage," Morpheus says, as though clarity were the problem there. He seems... sincere, though. Like he's actually asking the question, not trying to nudge Hob into an epiphany about the futility of his life goals. Hob's heard the second thing enough to know what it sounds like. And Morpheus has that- look, on his face. The Hob-is-an-insect look, but not. It's... it's like if that look were kinder, more genuine. More vulnerable.

So for what may be the first time, when asked that question, Hob actually considers his answer before responding. "I dunno what I wanted," he says. "I just want- I want someone to choose me. Not have me forced on them."

Morpheus stares at him. Studies him. As though the secret of life itself has somehow been hidden in Hob's face.

Hob stares back, pinned. Entranced. A little confused.

"You know," he says, after a moment, "I'm not actually a bug."

Morpheus sighs. "Come on," he says, "Let's get you home."

Despite Hob's insistence that he is fine, really, just a little tipsy and a lot heartsick and sleep deprived, Morpheus does walk him home.

Hob only remembers the tickets when they reach his building, and only then someone had stuck a sticker of a dancer to the back of a lamppost. "Here," he says, rooting around in his jacket pocket until he finds the envelope, and handing it over, "At least someone will get use out of them."

Morpheus stares at the envelope like he's never seen one before.

When he looks up at Hob, his eyes are glistening with tears. "Are you," he asks, quietly. He pauses for a long time, long enough that Hob starts to wonder if he'd handed over the wrong envelope, and then wonder what deeply tragic envelopes he could possibly have been carrying around.

"Are you going to look for your soulmate now?" Morpheus asks. His voice is as even, almost soothing, as ever.

He's looking at Hob as though the wrong answer will be his death sentence.

"Are you kidding me?" Hob asks. Despite everything, he finds himself grinning. "Never. The love of my life is out there, somewhere, I'm not going to discount them for something stupid like soulmates."

Morpheus smiles.

Truly smiles, for the first time that Hob has seen. It's a lovely expression, soft, hesitant, but so genuinely, contagiously delighted. And Hob knows, with the same bone-deep certainty as his disbelief in soulmates, that he'd protect that smile at all costs.

"Also," he says, because there's not much protection he can offer right not but there is always the shining, thrilling possibility of coaxing another smile out of Morpheus tonight, "I'm starving. Do you want to get dinner?"

#dreamling #unsoulmates au #my fic #an earlier draft referred to Morpheus' smile as 'the stray kitten of facial expressions' and while that is an objectively true descriptor #it is not the one Hob would use in that moment

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overwatchfics · 1 year

Note

Headcanons would be fine!

-Hanzos tattoo soulmark anon

Hanzo Soulmate Tattoo HCs

A/N: Tbh I did not know how to write this one out sorry it took so long anon

For as long as Hanzo Remembered, he could only see in grey scale and after the murder of his brother the shades of grey grew to black.

With his track record he believed that he did not deserve love nor the chance to see colors as his brother had with a certain overwatch doctor

Genji knew otherwise, but he did not think his brother was ready to know the truth.

It's a pretty hard deal to hide a large dragon tattoo, so one would assume Hanzo would find his soul mate easily, no? Genji thought so until he realized that Angela's doctor's coats and Valkyrie suit hid those sorts of tattoos

Wrong

Hanzo is so swept up in his path of atonement, that little else is important to him which includes meeting new people.

When Genji was in the shooting range on base, he'd noticed a strikingly familiar tattoo on one of overwatch's sharpshooters he'd talked to briefly, a friend of Dr. Ziegler's.

That sharpshooter being you

Genji paused before approaching you and tapping you on the shoulder Would you like to join me and my brother for drinks tonight at the bar? I feel you two might get along, it would be good for him to meet new people.

You agreed, setting the training rifle to the side and checking your watch. You left the range to get yourself cleaned up and ready for a night out.

Genji hadn't thought you'd actually say yes, but he shot a text to his brother You're coming with me to the base bar tonight, I'm not accepting a no

Once night had arrived Genij had picked you up from the house after Hanzo insisted, he'd meet them there on his own.

Eventually once everyone was situated outside the bar you all walked inside and found a booth in the far corner.

As drinks were ordered and menus were being passed, your sleeve slid down your arm and Hanzo took notice immediately of the tattoo that sat on your arm.

It was identical to his own.

He shot a look at Genji who feigned getting a call from Angela and left immediately

With just you and Hanzo things were a little tense at first

That is until Hanzo asked you to pull up your sleeve. Confused, you didn't bother to ask why, but pulled up your sleeve reluctantly

Hanzo Looked to you and silently pulled his own sleeve back eliciting a gasp from you

We are one between two dragons it seems and he places his palm gently on top of yours

Color flashed behind his eyes, and he recoiled as a pang of pain rang through his head. It had left almost as quickly as it came. When he opened his eyes, he could see the color of the whiskey on the table, the oak wood table, and lights around the room.

Hanzo waited for you to come out of it as well and when your eyes did meet, a feeling a clarity ran through both of you.

Hanzo got up from the booth offering his hand to you, the promise of drinks would have to wait another time if you are free for the rest of the night, there is much I must tell you

#overwatch2 #overwatch imagine #overwatch x reader #hanzo x reader #hanzo shimada

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nlghtshade · 2 years

Text

♡ june 2022 favorites

this month felt like a giant hug 🥺 from it being pride month, to all the birthdays and anniversaries we celebrated, and the new fests and rec lists, there was so much amazing art and fics 🥺 just so much love in this lil community of ours 💖 life is always busy and i feel like there's never enough time to indulge in fandom but every second i spend here is always such a joy 💖🥰 as always, thank you and enjoy !!

FIC

The Strings that Weave Us (2022, General, 1.9k) by @katie-alden

It was Andromeda who, on hearing that Harry planned to restore the Black family tapestry, insisted that the best tapestry thread could only be found in a tiny little shop in Hogsmeade. The same tiny little shop where Draco worked. Which is how Harry had found himself trying to make an appropriate amount of eye contact – look at his eyes, Harry, not his soft hair and just-right arms and the dimple in his left cheek and – as Draco explained how the thread worked.

Serendipity by @april-thelightfury115

Hurt/Comfort, divorced!grumpy!Harry lol. Thanks to thebooktopus for the speedy beta! Any mistakes are my own :)

how can i love what i know i’m gonna lose? (don’t make me choose) (2021, Teen, 8.2k) by @tigerlilycorinne-drarry-me

Harry's soulmark is his scar, but he doesn't know that. He thinks he has no soulmate. And Draco, who has Harry Potter's scar on the inside of his hip, is not planning on ever telling him. Ever. It would break him in two. But when Hogwarts institutes a Health Ed week where Draco is tasked with the topic of soulmates, he begins to think maybe Harry needs to know.

facedown on my bed (thinking of you) (2022, Mature, 10k) by @onbeinganangel

I am facedown on my bed Still not quite awake yet Thinking of you I tuck my hand under my weight Just tell me what you want to do Tell me what you want To burn away 'Cause I could be your stoker Stay Soft - Mitski

Sometimes the feelings you have for your enemy-turned-roommate-turned-bff are not as platonic as you think. Sometimes you're the last person to realise it.

First Week of Eternity (2022, Explicit, 7.8k) by InnerLilith, @hd-fangfest

Moving in with the colleague you’d like to fuck is a bad idea for anyone. It’s worse when you’re a card-carrying member of the eternal dead. It’s exponentially worse when your already garlic-obsessed colleague-slash-crush-slash-roommate has recently discovered his distant Italian heritage. In which Draco tries desperately to hide that he’s recently become a vampire, and Harry tries desperately to feed him.

Glowing (2022, Teen, 9.7k) by @cavendishbutterfly, @hd-fangfest

Harry's lived alone and vampiric in his cottage for ages, until a long-lived Draco Malfoy suddenly shows up to answer an advertisement Harry had practically forgotten he'd put in the Prophet. Cue soft blood drinking, quiet nights of reading and crocheting, and Harry thinking that maybe--just maybe--he might not be so alone anymore.

What You’ve Come For (2022, Explicit, 1.3k) by @nv-md, @hd-fangfest

It doesn't matter that Draco's a bloodthirsty vampire, Harry can't stay away from him, and they come together night after night in the Astronomy Tower.

The Ministry Olympics (2015, Teen, 10.1k) by playout

Harry is fed up with losing to Malfoy in the Ministry Olympics, but this year he has a plan. (Or, If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.)

rumour has it (2022, Explicit, 8.5k) by @epsilonargus

Slytherin King Draco Malfoy overhears the wrong conversation, and discovers court wizard Harry Potter is to be engaged to Ginny Weasley. That's fine, he's not devastated or anything—he would survive this. He has always known after all, that he must love the prat in secret.

Holding Back the Fire (2018, Explicit, 9.3k) by @goldentruth813

Harry’s always hated praise, so he doesn’t understand why the idea of it coming from Draco makes him want it in ways he’s never wanted anything before.

when you see me (will you say i’ve changed) (2021, Teen, 12.8k) by @tigerlilycorinne-drarry-me

If there’s one thing Harry thought he’d never see, it’s Pansy Parkinson standing over him, shaking him awake at three AM. Draco goes back in time to convince himself not to become a Death Eater. Pansy must enlist Harry Potter to go back after him and convince him not to before he fucks up the fabric of time, because he has “emotional sway.” Harry has no idea what she’s talking about.

Where I see things right (2022, Explicit, 15.2k) by InnerLilith

When Harry finds himself unexpectedly pregnant after a one-off with Draco Malfoy, he knows he isn’t keeping it. But when actually getting the abortion turns out to be more complicated than Harry expected, he finds himself turning to Malfoy for help through the process. And that’s actually much less complicated than Harry expected.

Let Me Count the Ways (2022, Explicit, 3.5k) by @thebooktopus

Intimacy comes in many forms. Draco wants to explore them all with Harry.

ART

♡ worm-on-a-string draco by @lilbeanz

♡ harry potter by @bubble-gumhead

♡ Harry and James. by @bluebutter-art

♡ Sun and Moon by @aria-dunn

♡ all rivers lead to the ocean by @poxei

♡ Happy birthday to the pointiest boi💚🥳🎉 by @lilbeanz

♡ “Ethereal” by @darylsleftboob

♡ drarry nose kiss by @lilbeanz

♡ *hands this to you and runs* by @reebeex

♡ Art: The flames are part of us by @pato-roldnart

♡ Linny by @latibaris

♡ Just come cuddle at night, nothing special by @friendlybread2608

♡ the real reason for staring across the great hall all those years ago by @kryptidfox

♡ whatcha drawing? by @short666bread

♡ Seventh Year Draco 🐉🍂 by @gwynvys

♡ january ♡ february ♡ march ♡ april ♡ may

#drarry #fic rec #art rec #2022 favorites #j

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