#like out of all the soulmate aus i always found the 'thoughts on skin' one most unrealistic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

teatoptony · 7 months

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The Whole Being Soulmates Thing

summary; in this world, soulmates exist. he has one. it’s just that he already found someone, and your marks don’t match at all.

or, in which a stupidly stubborn punk in stupidly in love with someone who’s not his stupid ‘real’ soulmate.

pairing; hobie brown x reader, spider-punk x reader (soulmate!au)

warning(s); mentions of police brutality, not-too-detailed descriptions of injuries. r is non-gendered, no mention of r’s race. not proofread & written in the wee hours.

i am not black, i don’t have wicks. i did some research on how to properly care for them and wrote tiny parts in here with the info i had, but it may not be totally accurate. if something is wring, let me know. same for the lcp.

also hobie might sound a bit ooc but it’s a quiet fic and we don’t rly see him ‘quiet’ so eat my ahh(/j)

inspired by this post by @corrodedcoffeen ! not exactly 100% accurate but yea

He lived in a world full of soulmates and soulmarks.

Everyone who had a soulmate had a soulmark, like a little tattoo; whether it be on their arm, leg, back, even on their face. Sometimes, a person would have multiple soulmarks. In other cases, they wouldn’t have any at all. Some people were born with their marks, some appeared later down the line.

In most cases, people would do anything to find their soulmate. To be with them. To unite with their missing half.

Hobie Brown was among those who’d been born with a soulmate. Four little streaks that wrapped halfway around his left arm, like a scar from an animal that had halfheartedly tried to claw the whole thing off at birth.

Hobie loved his soulmark.

Not because he’d met his soulmate. Nor was it because the idea of a predestined partner made him giddy. No, it was because he felt a sense of pride whenever he looked at it. Pride that he’d beaten the system when he got you.

His thoughts wander as he sits on your your and his shared bed, a towel flat under his bum to prevent any grime that may be on his suit from rubbing off on the sheets. His vest and T-shirt had been haphazardly folded and placed on the bathroom sink, desperately needing a thorough cleaning after a particularly hard day, which left his torso bare for you to assess and repair the damage he’d been dealt once you peeled off the top half of his suit.

“Bit eager, yeah?” He’d joked as you hastily helped him out of his clothes, that cheeky smirk still shining through on his tear-streaked face. You’d answered with an exasperated laugh.

He had come home at two in the morning, stumbling through the window with a hand over the right side of his mask. When he’d ripped it off, tossing it on a random bit of the floor somewhere, you were met with red eyes, wet cheeks, a runny nose and a blood-crusted lip. Apparently, he’d been at the frontlines of a protest when one of the tear gas shells hit him right in the face, cracking his right eye lense and leaving him vulnerable to the gas’s full effect. You didn’t need to be told what happened to know what came next. After all, it was always the same routine with the pigs - gas the crowd and beat any individuals that strayed from the mass.

Now, as Hobie’s fingers tap a little rhythm on the mattress, your hands glide a washcloth long his skin, being careful to minimize pressure on his bruises. Which, granted, is hard when they cover most of his back and ribcage, but you made it work somehow. Tear gas residue sticks to anything it can, and although his body was mostly had been mostly covered, it gave the both of you peace of mind to clean anything off just in case. He thanks you by softly gripping your other hand, his fingers lacing together with yours.

“Need more milk?” You ask, going to put the cloth down and grab the already half-empty sprayer on the ground next to the bed, having already been used in the bathroom just minutes prior and put there just in case. He shakes his head, the hand that’s not on yours gently grabbing your wrist and guiding it back to his chest.

As you continue, he thinks back to the first time he’d held your hand like that.

It was when the two of you were barely teenagers, when he didn’t fully understand how the whole ‘soulmates’ thing even worked, or how messed up it really was. The only thing he really knew was that people were supposed to stay together forever if their marks matched, even if that wasn’t always the case.

Having known each other since you were just kids, he remembers wishing so badly that your soulmark matched his. He had wished that little planet on your ankle could be washed away, a temporary tattoo or doodle instead of an actual mark. He remembers drawing little black holes at the corners of his school worksheets, hoping that one of them would eventually swallow your mark whole and replace it with four lines identical to his.

Back then, he had wished his ugly little bands would somehow arrange themselves into a square. At least then he could insist that his mark was a planet. A weird square one, yeah, but a planet just like yours.

But as you looked at him with that warm glow in your eyes, he swore you were the best thing that had ever happened to him, soulmate or not.

If only that kid could see him now - here, with you.

He suppresses a smile that threatens to slip onto his face, as moving his lips makes the cut sting.

“You almost gave me a heart attack,” you mutter, wiping at the last bit of his torso. Hobie lets out a low sigh.

“‘M sorry love,” he says back, giving your hand a little squeeze. He really does mean it. He hates seeing the worry and sadness in your eyes every time he came back to you after one of these days. Fuck knows how he’d cope with it if you came home like this just every now and again, let alone what seemed like every other day recently. “I do try to be careful.”

You hum in response, getting up from your spot and holding out your hand for him to do the same. He does so with little to no hesitation, only waiting a moment to brace himself for the soreness that would follow. You lead him to the bathroom.

“Everything off,” you say, then immediately follow it up with, “Don’t.”

“I didn’t even say nothin’!” Hobie protests, feigning offense. As if that glint in his eye didn’t give it away.

“You need to get cleaned off properly.” You stress the lest word, letting go of his hand so that he can strip. “You can’t just go to bed after a quick wipe-down tonight. You need a shower.”

“But it’s gonna be cold.” Hobie groans. Tear gas wasn’t anything new, he’d had to clean the residue off of himself more times than he could count. That didn’t mean he was a fan of the cold showers that did most of the actual cleaning. Despite his complaints, he hastily steps out of his remaining articles of clothing as you start the water.

His muscles tense as he steps into the shower, pulling him out of his somewhat drowsy state. He quickly scrubs every part of his body, wanting to get out as fast as possible.

He washes his hair out last, taking care to not mess them up no matter how much he hates the temperature of the water. He’d made the mistake of trying to shampoo the whole of his head in one go just once before, and he’d be damned if he had to go running to the auntie down the street again to fix any tangles neither you nor him could sort out.

In his defense, he’d almost bled out just a couple hours beforehand that day. Having your first (superhero-related) near-death experience tends to shake you up a little.

“You’re such a man-baby,” you’d teased him as Hobie gripped your hand for dear life, the woman you’d guaranteed could get that nightmare of a knot out sorting through his hair with an arsenal of olive oil and a wide toothed comb.

“Oh piss off—” his reply was cut short as she detangled a particularly nasty bit of the problem, unfortunately having to tug exceptionally hard at his head. “Ow!”

The woman - Aunt Margaret, as you’d introduced her - tsked at him to sit still, poking at the tangle with the handle of her comb to see if it would give way now. Luckily, most of it did. She muttered something along the lines of ‘young people nowadays’, but in a sort of gruffly affectionate sort of way. From what you’d told him, Aunt Margaret was sort of the neighborhood mom, always helping people who needed it no matter how much she gave them grief for it.

The three of you made small talk over tea after his hair was nice and hairball-free, albeit a little slippery. Turned out, Aunt Margaret had plenty of stories of her own to share. Hobie had been delighted to hear about everything that had happened when she was a part of the League of Colored Peoples, almost ready to practically beg the woman to adopt him.

Two weeks later, when he decided to drop by again, the topic of soulmates came up. Aunt Margaret asked if he’d found his soulmate yet, to which he replied he didn’t believe in the soulmate system. She nodded in agreement.

“Just as well,” she had said, a frown making its way onto her face. “I’ve seen too many good people get their hearts broken because of that bloody mark.” She eyed his upper arm, exposed in the sleeveless top he’d worn at the time. “I got mine covered ages ago.”

“Did you meet your soulmate before that?”

Aunt Margaret shook her head. “That’s a story for another time, Bartholomew.”

He still makes time for tea with her every week or so.

The second he steps out of the shower, he’s greeted with a huge, warm towel fresh from the dryer. He wraps it around himself as you usher him back to the bedroom where you’d laid out some comfy clothes for him. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices the clothes he’d discarded on the bathroom floor is long gone, along with his vest and tee that were sitting on the sink.

“I put the studs out on the veranda to air out,” you say, noticing him glance at the empty sink. “They’ll need washing, though. My eyes got all weird when I looked at the vest too close, and your belt’s not much different. The rest of everything’s in the machine.”

Pulling on his bottoms, Hobie silently nods at your words before pulling the tank top you’d dug out for him over his head. He then walks over to place a kiss on your head. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to leech off your warmth. He lets out a little noise of contentment when he feels you hug him back.

Wordlessly, he walks the two of you to your the shared vanity, plopping himself down on the seat. You grab the hairdryer off the table, checking to make sure it’s okay for you to help before switching it on to dry his wicks. Hobie closes his eyes as you make your way through each piece, eventually stopping once there’s no more water to be purged. Your fingers sorting through his hair so carefully is calming - almost therapeutic, and it takes all his willpower to keep himself sitting straight up for you.

After that, he clumsily grabs you and throws you over his shoulder, ignoring how you yelp in surprise and unplugging the dryer. He then proceeds to carry you around your place, flicking off all the lights before getting back to the bedroom and (softly) throwing you on the mattress.

“Was that really necessary?” You groan as he throws the sheets over the both of you. Hobie then proceeds to drag himself half on top of you, using you as a full body pillow.

“Definitely.” He replies, his voice a bit muffled against your pajamas.

You laugh. “Sure.”

He tilts his head up to give you a goodnight kiss, murmuring ‘dream ‘bout me’ next to your ear to which you respond by playfully pushing him away.

“Rude,” He mutters, smiling into your clothes as he huffs in indignation. Your laugh echoes through your body, a sound more beautiful than any music he had or would ever hear.

He doesn’t fall asleep too easily that night. Rogue thoughts on soulmates and fate flinging about his skull. For some reason, they’d all picked tonight to bug him to pieces.

Unknowingly, his grip around you tightens, feeling your weight in his arms. It grounds him as all the doubts try to throw him off, to destabilize something perfectly happy.

What if they find their soulmate? Then they’ll decide if they want me or them. (Me.)

What if I find my soulmate? What, like I’d break their heart for a stranger? Yeah. Fat chance.

He swatted those questions away like pesky little mosquitoes until he eventually fell asleep, choosing to focus instead on your heartbeat ringing in his ears.

So what if you two weren’t soulmates? He loves you, you love him. That’s all that matters.

The universe can suck an egg.

—

The next morning, Hobie woke up at 11, as usual. You woke up right after him as he stirred, like you always did. The two of you lounged in the comfort of your the sheets for a while before you had to eventually get up for breakfast.

Hobie was trailing behind you on your walk to the kitchen when something catches his eye.

His reflection in the vanity mirror.

Something’s… off.

Oh.

Oh shit.

“Y/n?” He calls, looking down at his upper arm just to make sure the mirror isn’t playing tricks on him. Sure enough, there it is.

You turned around at his voice, eyebrows furrowed in a confused way. “Hm?”

“Look.”

He watches as your confusion morphed into surprise and then back to confusion again. Then you auickly check your ankle, confusion turning into realization.

“We match.”

Your soulmarks had somehow changed overnight, turning into small, stylized sun symbols that stand out more than either of your marks before ever did, clear as day.

It’s a few moments of stunned silence before laughter breaks out between the two of you.

“You know what we have to do now,” you manage, an arm around the front of your midsection and the other hand on your face.

“I think I do.” Hobie says, practically wheezing

By the end of the day, the two of you have covered up your new soulmarks with mismatching tattoos.

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dottores · 8 months

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HELIOTROPES: A SIDE STORY

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding, brief mention of alcoholism and implied child abuse (not to reader), totally unedited (didn't have time! sorry!) reminder that segment list is on the masterlist if needed!

notes: THE BDAY SIDE STORY IS HERE, sorry i couldn't get it out on time i've been so busy i literally did not have the time to format or do anything sobs but i hope u guys enjoy because i had so much fun writing it. i originally came up with the idea for milk's bday a few weeks ago hehe. i rlly love it because it gives more background into reader and some of my fav segments (minus theta </3 he didn't make it in this one. but perhaps i shall do a christmas side story and make him the star).

THREE TIMES THE SEGMENTS MET YOU WITHOUT REALIZING IT, AND ONE TIME THEY DID.

I. THE KAPPA SEGMENT & THE EPSILON SEGMENT; READER, AGE 6

You were cold. Soft puffs of air left your lips, shaky and weak. You were curled up in a ball on the ground, and a part of you knew that you needed to move but you couldn’t bring yourself to, your limbs felt as if they were iced to the ground—maybe they were, you could barely even pry your eyes open to check.

The storm had died down, brief and brutal as they usually were, but you had been unable to find shelter before it hit. The town had to be close, you could hear people leaving their homes to fix up their properties from destruction of the harsh winds. It was only a matter of time before someone spotted you curled up on the ground, you were wearing a bright purple cloak. Your mother would find you, she would come to your rescue, she’d bring you home and make some hot cocoa for you just like you guys used to do during the bad storms before your father left for Fontaine City.

It felt like an eternity. It might’ve been an eternity, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that everything was cold, and you felt sluggish and slow, and you were starting to struggle to breathe because the air felt like icicles scraping at your lungs. You were tired, you could feel yourself falling asleep but living on the northern border, you knew better—you had to make it somewhere warm before you fell asleep, otherwise you might not wake up.

But you couldn’t move, you thought you should feel scared and you thought you should definitely be crying but you couldn’t even do that. And as the minutes passed, slow and agonizing, you began to question whether or not someone would find you in time. The more those doubts began to surface, the more appealing the relief of sleep became—at least if you slept, you wouldn’t have to wait out these freezing and harrowing minutes alone. You could dream of your mother and father, of Sylvie and Elliot, maybe you would even dream of your soulmate. You heard that some people who were favored by the gods had dreams of their soulmate well before they ever met.

Your weak breaths began to even out as you gave into the lull, but just as you were on the verge of falling asleep, you heard it—the crunching of snow, fast and loud heading in your direction. You forced your eyes open now, whimpering as the ice and snow caked on your face ripped at your skin painfully, and through little slits, you watched a figure dashing toward you.

At first, you thought it was your mother, wishing you could cry in relief because of course she found you, she would always find you. She would always come to your rescue. She would wrap you up in her arms and cry at you for being such a fool, but you knew she would just be happy you were okay.

But as the figure drew closer, you realized that it was far too small to be your mother—you thought maybe it was Sylvie or Elliot, rushing ahead to get to you and maybe your mother was right behind them, but again, you were proven wrong as an unfamiliar boy knelt at your side, red eyes wide and silvery-blue curls hanging in his eyes as he peered down at you.

He pressed his hands against both of your cheeks, as if to warm you up, but you thought it might’ve made it worse, because with the small bit of warmth against your skin and the feeling of someone else’s touch after being alone so long in the blizzard, you found your eyes drooping shut again, being lulled to sleep far faster this time.

At once, the boy ripped his hands away and you could hear him pulling off his own cloak. He wrapped it around you tightly tucking one of your arms inside the thick material but hesitated before stuffing your other arm in there too. You forced your eyes back open, watching as he stared at your hand in confusion, and you parted your lips to ask what he was doing but no noise left them besides a wheeze of cold air that had ice slicing down your windpipe and your body shuddering in pain.

Noticing your reaction, he put your arm into the cloak. He stood up, and you wondered if he was going to try to lift you himself, or leave you, but then another voice reached your ears, loud and tired, calling a name that you couldn’t quite make out but it had the boy lifting his arms and waving them frantically.

A few moments later, there was a new figure kneeling next to you, brows furrowed as he looked down at you. “How did you get out here all on your own in this weather?” he murmured more to himself than you, and careful to keep you wrapped up in the small one’s cloak, he took his own off and wrapped you in that one too, easily lifting you up into his arms.

He was a stranger, and you knew you shouldn’t feel so comfortable in his arms, but you couldn’t help the way you leaned into his chest, basking in the warmth and relief of having been found, even if it wasn’t by the person you wanted it to be. You started to doze off again but found yourself disrupted as he jostled you in his arms suddenly, eyes blearily reopening to give him a confused look.

“No sleeping,” he warned, giving you a steady look before motioning for the boy to follow him as he brought you into the town.

He took you to the inn, bustling with people who had taken refuge from the sudden storm, and immediately the innkeeper recognized you, gasping as she hobbled over to the man and led him in the direction of the fireplace, shouting for people to go fetch your mother or stepfather. He placed you down on the ratty couch of the inn, keeping you nestled inside both cloaks before pushing it as close as possible to the fireplace.

He stepped away and at once you felt cold again—not physically, but mentally. Empty in a way that you’d never experienced before. You wanted to tell him to come back but you still couldn’t speak, your throat hurt and your lips still felt numb.

The boy lingered for a moment, standing in front of the couch and staring at you as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t—much like you.

“Come, Kappa,” the man who saved you said just as you finally began to drift off to sleep with the warmth of the fireplace next to you and the weight of their cloaks pressing down on you. “She will be fine. Delta is waiting, you know how he feels about wasting time.”

You could only watch them leave, confused as to the warmth you felt when you were wrapped up in his arms—you knew it was different than normal but didn’t know why—and Epsilon never noticed the thread tied neatly around your finger, which was hidden by his and Kappa’s cloak. Kappa, mute and anxious, was unable to force the words out of his mouth as Epsilon held his wrist and led him from the tavern away from you.

II. THE IOTA SEGMENT; READER, AGE 11

You shuffled through the streets, sniffling and wiping at your eyes with baggy sleeves. You were getting odd looks from all around, wondering why an eleven-year-old was wandering around the streets alone wearing clothes that were far too big for her body. You had stolen Wriothesley’s jacket and gloves to cover your nice dress and the rings adorning your fingers, you probably should have taken them off before leaving the palace—the last thing you needed was for your mother to yell at you for losing her grandmother’s pearl ring and the city was out of control with pickpockets the past few months.

It had already started raining, much to your displeasure, you remembered the prophecy that spoke of the day Fontaine City would be drowned by the gods and not for the first time, you wished that the day would just come already. You were so tired of dealing with your stepfather, and you hated the way he looked at you, and you hated how now he was even turning people against you and your father.

You were supposed to have joined your mother and siblings in visiting your uncle for dinner, but instead, your mother had made an off-handed comment about how you should go spend some time with your father and grandfather instead, and you knew it was because your stepfather must have said something to your uncle. You didn’t know what, you had never been close to your uncle but you’d thought that since he was still family, he wouldn’t care for the words of an outsider.

But you should have expected this, in Fontaine, nothing came above the word of a person’s soulmate, Celestia’s gift to humanity. Of course he would believe your stepfather, because your stepfather was his sister’s gift from the gods—he only ever wanted the best for her, and he had somehow convinced your uncle that you, her own daughter, were not the best for her.

Another sob bubbled at your lips, you pressed the sleeves of Wriothesley’s jacket to your mouth to muffle it. You wondered if your mother thought you were stupid, that you wouldn’t know what she really meant, but of course you knew. You spent too much time just observing people to not know. You didn’t have any friends to talk to besides Wriothesley, and Wriothesley was always busy. All you could do was sit around and observe until you got bored.

Maybe you should have just gone to your father or grandfather and tell them what happened, but you knew if you did that, they would be livid and it would escalate things even more, and you were the one that would deal with the backlash of that, not them. So instead you went to Wriothesley, and stole his jacket and gloves, and refused to tell him what happened before you fled from the room to leave the palace.

Just as you were about to turn the corner, you slammed into a figure and hit the ground hard, crying even more when mud splattered all over your face and into your mouth. You tried to wipe the mud off of your face through choked sobs but now the gloves were covered in mud too from you trying to catch yourself, and you only smeared it even worse.

“Oh.”

It was a young boy who you had slammed into you but you couldn’t make out his facial features through your blurred vision. You were caught off guard when he was suddenly pressing his cloak against your face, using it as a rag to try to wipe off the mud. It didn’t help much, all he did was smear it around more because his cloak was drenched, but it had at least cleared your vision.

“... Better?” he said hesitantly, looking down at you.

You sniffled a bit, using the clean part of Wriothesley’s jacket to wipe at your eyes before you nodded, but you didn’t stand up from where you were sitting on the ground. You didn’t want to. The boy leaned in a bit closer, frowning, “Are you… crying?”

“I am not,” you denied immediately, but your voice betrayed you, cracking and breath shuddering over another sob. The boy looked suspicious. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not!”

“You are.”

“Not!”

“Yes, you are!”

“I am not!”

You glared at him.

He glared back.

Then he sat down in the mud next to you, plopping down hard and splattering mud all over you again.

“Are you crying because you fell because of me?” the boy asked.

“‘m not crying,” you muttered, but with far less vigor this time. When he only stared at you, red eyes wide and earnest as he waited for an actual response, you finally said: “My stepfather is mean to me.”

“Oh,” the boy said in response, and the two of you just sat there for a moment, ignoring the way people kept giving you strange looks. Then, he reached up and patted your head, getting mud in your hair and on your forehead. Your brows furrowed as you stared at him, trying to figure out what he was doing, but he looked just as confused as you. “The Doctor pats my head when I get sad sometimes. It makes me feel better. Do you feel better?”

He drew his hand back swiftly into his lap, as if the single touch had poisoned him, and then you noticed how he was sitting with a large space between the two of you, the hand that had touched your head trembling and his body stiff. You wondered if he was like Wriothesley, Wriothesley used to get scared whenever people touched him, even just a kiss on the cheek or a pat on the head, and he never initiated contact with anyone else—you were pretty sure it was because his grandfather drank a lot, and when he drank a lot, he hurt people but whenever you asked your father, he said it was none of your business. But your father didn’t like Wriothesley’s grandfather, and you supposed that said enough, your father liked pretty much everyone. And then, realizing he might be like Wriothesley, you felt sad because he still tried to make you feel better even though he was scared.

“I feel better,” you said quietly.

He smiled, brightening up a bit, but just as he was about to say something, you heard your name being called, loud and panicked. Your eyes turned up to where Wriothesley’s father was rushing through the rain in your direction, a few of his men following close behind.

At his side, Wriothesley was with him, looking guilty as he refused to meet your eyes.

“Traitor!” you cried at Wriothesley as his father gently hauled you out of the mud to your feet. “I don’t want to go back there!”

“He was worried, little one,” Wriothesley’s father patted your head, voice quiet as he spoke. “We all were. The city has been dangerous lately, you cannot go running off on your own. Your father just about had a heart attack when Wriothesley came to us and told us that you took his jacket and left the palace grounds.”

Wriothesley’s father pulled off the muddy gloves and coat to drape his own cleaner one over your shoulders—if he had been a second faster, maybe Iota would have caught sight of the thread tied to your finger before he ran off to get back to Delta.

III. THE GAMMA SEGMENT; READER, AGE 16

You had made it your goal to attend every festival you possibly could across all of Teyvat. The music festivals of Fontaine were an easy tick to your list, but it had taken a lot of convincing to get your mother to agree to the Lantern Rite Festival of Liyue. With you, Sylvie and Elliot combined though, it was impossible for her to say no.

It was all you’d been thinking about for days now, and as you walked over the bridge to enter Liyue Harbor, you thought the city might’ve been the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen, eyes drawing upon all of the decorations and stands—it was dark out already, but somehow the city was still completely lit up and alive. People were singing and dancing, chatting loudly and laughing.

It reminded you of Fontaine City before the curfews were set and you were confined to the palace.

“Look at all of the lights,” Sylvie whispered excitedly, tugging at your arm as she pointed to the lanterns decorating each corner of every building.

“They say that they release thousands of lanterns at the end of the festival into the air,” Elliot said, squinting as he dipped his head down to see the words of the book he was reading. “They send their soldiers traveling throughout Liyue to collect all of them after Lantern Rite ends.”

“Do you think we’ll be able to release one?” Sylvie asked, bouncing in her feet as she turned to look at Elliot, who just shrugged. “Can we go explore? Please, mother.”

Your mother looked tired from all of the traveling, sharing a look with your stepfather before nodding. “We’re going to go check in at the inn we’re staying at. Be sure to meet back here before nightfall, we have reservations at the Xinyue Kiosk tonight.”

Delighted, you lit up, watching as your stepfather told Elliot and Sylvie to go buy themselves a kite from the Toy Shop before handing them each a pouch of mora. You should’ve known better, but still, you glanced at him after Elliot and Sylvie ran off in opposite directions. His eyes glazed right over you as he held your tired mother by the waist and led her off in the direction of the inn.

Your smile faltered but you refused to let it ruin your mood—you were in Liyue Harbor during Lantern Rite. You weren’t going to let him make you sad, you had your own coins anyway that you got from tutoring the Beaumont kids. Instead, you rushed off across the bridge and down the street, in the direction of the main area of the city.

There were people everywhere, all of the shops stayed open, your smile widened as you watched a bunch of kids Elliot and Sylvie’s age run around with kites in their hands, ignoring how the adults were chiding them for doing it while the streets were so busy.

You peeked around at some of the market stands, tempted to try some of the food but you figured that you’d get yelled at if you filled yourself up before the reservation, knowing that your mother spent a lot of time and mora getting someone down to Liyue a few months ago to make sure you guys were put on the waitlist.

Instead, you found yourself in front of a jewelry shop, looking through the glass windows at the gemstones perched up on pretty purple cushions. They were already sold out of Emeralds, Topazes and Agates, but they had a full stock of Turquoises, Jades, and Diamonds. Distantly, you wondered who the hell was going to buy Diamonds from the jeweler, knowing that the rest would at least be bought by people with a vision.

Your eyes narrowed, and just as disappointment was about to hit you, you caught sight of what you were looking for:

Varunada Lazurite.

Your gaze shot open in surprise—the gemstone was always sold out in the Land of Hydro with so many people who had hydro visions living within the city. You had managed to get your hands on three chunks the last time the shop near the palace restocked, even though you had to wait in a line for nearly twelve hours to make sure you were the first one there after the restock. You had thought you’d have to wait another month or two for a chance at obtaining the other three you needed.

But right there were the three brilliant and shiny chunks of Lazurite you needed tucked in the corner of the glass box. Excited, you realized that you wouldn’t have to wait as long as you thought—once you got home, you’d be able to grab the three you already had and crush them down into dust with your father for the second-to-last vision ceremony, to give you the increased connection with your hydro energy that you needed to finally start learning your family’s passed down hydro art.

Then, you would start the long process of trying to acquire the full gemstones, which were far more expensive and rarer than the chunks.

“Unless you’re going to buy something, I suggest you move on. You’re holding up my customers,” the woman behind the stand said boredly.

“How much for the three chunks of Lazurite?” you asked, raising your chin.

She only quirked her brow upward. “Forty geo sigils each.”

“Geo sigils?” you gasped, eyes wide and lips parted as your elation immediately disappeared.

How were you supposed to get geo sigils? You weren’t a Liyue native, you had no way of knowing how to find them. You barely even had any Hydro sigils and you were from Fontaine.

“You’re a foreigner?” the woman asked, squinting her eyes a bit as she looked you over. You nodded, and she sighed heavily. “Very well, seventy-five thousand mora. Each.”

You blanched, knowing in your heart that she was ripping you off. Forty geo sigils was worth closer to sixty-thousand than seventy-five thousand but you weren’t going to argue that when she was doing you a favor by taking the common currency for you already.

Defeated, you asked: “Do you take bank checks?”

The woman nodded, and you pulled out one of the Northland Bank check slips that your mother had given you a few months back—it was your stepfather’s, he was the only one that had a bank account with the Northland Bank, and you figured that he would be mad when he realized you’d spent over two-hundred thousand of his mora on your Lazurite chunks but you thought that he deserved it, and signed the check happily after making it out to Mingxing Jewelry.

She handed you the bag with the Lazurite chunks and thanked you for the business. Smiling to yourself, you made your way down the street again, this time looking for Sylvie or Elliot.

You got no further than a few yards before someone slammed into you, sending you both sprawling out to the ground.

All the air left your lungs as a heavy weight dropped onto your stomach, scrambling off of you almost immediately, panicked. Your eyes met a pair of red ones and a face flushed pink in embarrassment, burn scars decorated the upper half of his face and for a moment, you thought he was familiar from somewhere. He was around your age, you couldn’t help but notice.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “Sorry, I was just-I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m looking for someone and-”

“It’s-” You began to say ‘it’s fine’ but the words died on your tongue when you realized that the bag you were holding was significantly lighter. You shot an accusing look at him, thinking that he had pickpocketed you but as you did that, your eyes caught a glimmer from the corner of your eye.

The Lazurite.

You rushed toward it, but not fast enough, only able to watch as a small child darted through the crowd to steal the shiny object.

“Hey!” you shouted angrily, glaring back furiously at the boy who had bumped into you, who looked even more humiliated now, pressing his knuckles against his mouth as if refraining the urge to gnaw at them. “Look at what you did!”

You didn’t even spare him another glance, ignoring his apologies and his offers to help you get it back as you gave chase to the child who had stolen your seventy-five thousand mora gem.

You hadn’t noticed the warm feeling that had swept through you when he had crashed into you, nor had Gamma noticed the thin red thread wrapped around your finger in his panic.

IV. THE ZETA SEGMENT; READER, AGE 19

The Windblume Festival.

You smiled as you stepped into Mondstadt City, the beams of the sun washing over you and a gentle breeze sweeping through the city. You had heard that Anemo Archon makes the days of the Festival the most beautiful that the city sees all year—you had doubted it, partially because the Hydro Archon thought it was the greatest entertainment to douse the city in rain and storms whenever the music festivals were taking place. It never deterred them, the musicians would always play on even through the rain and thunder, but you had never quite experienced a festival like this, even during Lantern Rite, you had been unlucky with dreary clouds draped over the harbor.

You didn’t even know where to go first, you were so overwhelmed with all of the colors and all of the people and you thought you shouldn’t be, you should be used to crowds by now, but you’d spent so much time locked up in the palace after your father’s death that you were getting anxiety just being in the vicinity of so many people.

Your father. Your throat felt tight just as the reminder of him. He was supposed to be at Windblume with you—he had promised to bring you last year knowing how excited you were to see all of the nations’ different festivals, but he’d died before he could. You hadn’t even been able to bring yourself to go without him, but you forced yourself to go this year, to enjoy it for the both of you.

And you couldn’t enjoy it with such a cloud of gloom hanging over you, so you squared off your shoulders and pushed away all of the dark feelings, forcing the small smile back onto your face as you made your way into the city, although it wasn’t quite as bright as before.

You sighed as you made your way up the steps to the city’s main square. There were kids dancing to the music of a bard and flower stands set up all around the fountain in the center of the square. You wanted to buy one to give to someone, as per the Windblume tradition, but you didn’t have anyone to give it to. Sylvie and Elliot were supposed to have joined you for the festival, but their stepfather forbade them at the last minute, forcing you to attend the festival alone.

You looked around, eyes falling upon where a pretty woman with brown hair and green eyes was leaning into a tall blonde woman, and next to them, where a shorter blonde man was being dragged to the center of the square by a little girl dressed in red, who was pointing excitedly to a stand somewhere behind you.

“Are you waiting on someone?”

You jumped at the unfamiliar voice, turning to the side only for your eyes to fall upon a handsome man with dark skin and blue hair. His lip ticked up a bit as you studied him, and a bit embarrassed, he added: “Sorry. I was just wondering, you’re not from Mondstadt, are you?”

“Is it that obvious?” you asked dryly, glancing down at yourself. You wondered if it was the way you were dressed or if it was the way you looked like a lost duckling trying to figure out where to go. Disappointed, you thought you had made sure to wear an outfit that leaned more toward Mondstadt’s typical fashion than Fontaine’s but either way, it was a bit embarrassing.

“No,” the man said immediately. “I was just throwing it out there for a conversation starter, I’ve found it works wonders.”

“Does it?” you asked curiously, peering around the pavilion as more people began to wander around.

He hummed in agreement. “Usually, they start asking me why I think that because they are from Mondstadt,” you laughed a bit and the corner of his lip pulled up, “and if they aren’t, I explain to them why I asked, and then they laugh, kind of like how you are now.”

“You’ve got it all figured it out, don’t you?” you asked, letting the tease slip into your tone as you relaxed against the stone wall behind you, glancing up at him.

“Not at all,” he corrected. You gave him a questioning look and his grin widened a bit as he leaned in, as if to whisper to you in conspiracy. “I just made all of that up.”

You laughed louder this time, more in surprise than humor, but he seemed to take it as a positive regardless, straightening back up and looking down on you. “I’m Kaeya,” he greeted. “Cavalry Captain of the Knight’s of Favonius.”

“I’m…” you began, but found yourself trailing off as you caught sight of a figure ducking into an alleyway. All you caught was a head of silvery-blue hair, but somehow you could feel yourself drawn in that direction as if something was pulling you and were a puppet on a string that could only follow along. “Excuse me for a second.”

You didn’t hear his response and though you felt a bit bad about leaving him hanging like that, you were more focused on trying to figure out whatever the pull to this person was. You took off in that direction, relief hitting you when you realized he was still lingering at the mouth of the alley, fiddling with something in his hands.

“Excuse me,” you called, trying to get his attention. He didn’t respond, he didn’t even look up, so you repeated yourself as you drew closer, reaching out to touch his arm but he jerked away, dropping whatever was in his hands and your eyes widened as it hit the ground hard, shattering.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him, you could feel the cold and harsh gaze set on you as he waited for you to say whatever you wanted to say, but now you were at a loss for words because you didn’t even know why you came after him and you didn’t know what you wanted.

“Did you need something?” Clipped and icy, the thin smile on his lips did not meet the red of his eyes, and any words that you might’ve been trying to say to excuse your actions died on your tongue.

“I’m sorry,” you finally said, grateful that your voice remained steady even under his severe look. “You looked familiar. I thought we might’ve met before.”

He looked ridiculously familiar, in fact. You swore that you’d seen him before—the red eyes, silvery-blue hair and the scarred upper half of his face—it was all so familiar but you just couldn’t place from where. He looked taken aback a bit by your words, examining you for just a second before his lips twisted down again.

“We have not,” he said, voice frigid as he knelt down to pick up the broken pieces of the object that he had been holding. It was a dismissal if you’d ever heard one, but instead of leaving, you knelt down next to him.

“Here, let me help-” you tried to say, but at once, he grabbed your forearm, fingers pressing deep into your skin to stop you.

At once, a jolt shot through you and he seemed to feel it too, if the way he drew back as if he had slapped had anything to say about it. He stared at your hand as if he had just seen a ghost, lips parted in shock and eyes wide, and just as you were about to ask if he was okay, he spluttered something out about being late for something and then he was moving, disappearing around the corner before you even knew what was happening.

You sat there for a moment, stunned, and completely oblivious as to what he had seen.

Zeta’s heart was racing and his head was pounding, red eyes wide with disbelief as he leaned against a wall around the corner, far away from you. A part of him was embarrassed at the way he had run, he couldn’t even remember what excuse he had given—something along the lines of having to go because something important came up, a load of bullshit of course, but he thought it was better than what would have happened if he stayed there any longer after seeing that thread.

The thread.

Zeta didn’t know what to think. He had known of your existence—he knew because the moment the Iota segment found out years ago, the boy went running to every segment to tell them how a thread showed up on the Doctor’s finger, how they finally had their soulmate. He never expected to meet you though, much less before any of the other segments, and even then, a part of him had been convinced by Lambda’s persistence that this was all just a ploy for them to drop their guards, a fake, a means to destroy them in a way they had yet to be destroyed.

But you were there. You were right there. Zeta couldn’t help the way he peeked back around the corner, eyes immediately drawn to where he had left you in the middle of the alley. You looked upset, expression downcast as you glanced around, still trying to find him. A part of Zeta wanted to walk back over to you—talk to you, study you, try to figure out just who you were and why you were tied to them, there had to be something unique about you that made you their soulmate, that made them have to wait five hundred years just to meet you.

But he knew better.

The Doctor would already be suspicious.

It wasn’t unlike Zeta to have bursts of emotion when dealing with too many people—he got overwhelmed quickly after spending years having to keep up a friendly mask at the Akademiya. No matter how hard he tried to keep himself calm and learn new methods for not exhausting his thin tolerance of social situations, he never seemed to be able to do anything to fix it, an unfortunate side-effect of having been created with this mindset, because he would always revert back to the one in which he was originally made in.

But it was not the sudden outburst that was the issue. It was that shock that spread through him when your hand brushed his arm. The warm feeling. The familiarity with someone who should not be familiar. The Doctor would have noticed it, and he would have questions.

Zeta sighed heavily, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose as he leaned his head back against the wall. He cast one last long look backward, eyes lingering on you, memorizing your face and your body, the outfit you wore and the gems that donned your fingers and neck.

With a tight feeling in his throat, he pushed himself off the wall and head in the opposite direction of where you were standing, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the Doctor reached out demanding to know what had happened and Zeta needed to figure out what he was going to say before that happened, wanting to keep this little encounter a secret to himself because he knew that Lambda would inevitably find out through the Doctor and then he would try to hunt you down.

One last look, he told himself, again. He glanced back as he reached another corner, the alley where he left you only barely visible from the distance, but you were already gone.

#dottore x reader #dottore x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #series: heliotropes

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teamatsumu · 5 months

Text

was i meant to love you? (part one)

pairing: miya osamu x reader

summary: the kanji on your arm says Miya Atsumu’s name. but every fiber of your being is in love with his twin brother.

word count: 2796

warnings: soulmate au, fem!reader, miya atsumu x reader, angst, fluff, swearing

series masterlist

As a young child, your parents always told you that the universe created soulmates to form and nurture the bonds of love. No human on this planet would be left alone, because everyone had someone created for them. To love and care for them, to fill the gaps in their hearts and provide people with the bliss of knowing that they meant the whole world to someone.

There was nothing sad or difficult about it, the universe had ensured it.

At an infant’s first birthday, neat kanji letters would appear on their forearm, clear as day, specifying the first and last names of their soulmates. There was no ambiguity. The universe ensured that you would find your soulmate no matter what. An individual would grow up knowing who they were meant to be with, and they would die at a ripe old age with that person after spending their whole lives with them.

You were no exception to the rule. When the clock struck midnight, your tiny, one year old arm was marked with the letters that would be there until you died. A simple name.

Miya Atsumu.

Your mother was ever the hopeless romantic. She had met your father in her late teens, considering he lived all the way across the globe and getting there wasn’t easy. So she wanted for you what she had never had. A childhood romance. A kinship between children that would one day transform into a comfortable, familiar love. She wanted you to grow up with the person you were meant to be with, to stand by his side through everything, no matter how trivial. The thought of maturing with your other half had her sighing and batting her eyelashes dreamily, so the minute your kanji appeared, the hunt for Miya Atsumu was on.

Imagine her overjoyed reaction when she found out he was in the same country. Nothing could stop her from uprooting your lives in Tokyo to move all the way to Hyogo, and your father, the man who could never deny her anything, had agreed to go along of course. Anything for his wife. And anything to secure love for his child.

And so you met the Miya Twins. Same age as you, scarily identical and hard to differentiate in your tiny, underdeveloped mind. You had moved in only a few blocks away, and once your mother had spoken to their parents, it seemed you were woven into their lives permanently.

Miya Atsumu, your soulmate, was okay. He was a baby, you were a baby. You have no concept of love, or fate, or other halves. All you cared about was that he was active and loved to play. But he didn’t like sharing his toys which often made you cry. In moments like these, his twin, Miya Osamu, would share with you what was his, both of you playing together and occasionally scowling over at Atsumu. Eventually, Atsumu would get tired of being left out, and he would offer you his own toys just so all of you would play together.

Your mother thought it was very cute. The twins’ mother was endlessly relieved. At least one of her boys had found his soulmate. Because for the other, it seemed a hopeless case.

For you see, Miya Osamu’s arm was blank. There were no deep red kanji letters on his skin, telling him who his soulmate was. As far as the eye could tell, Miya Osamu had no one.

The boy had no concept of how doomed he was. But his parents did. And his mother had cried and sobbed herself to sickness thinking her boy was an anomaly. That somehow, the universe believed that maybe Osamu didn’t deserve love. It broke their hearts. So when Atsumu’s soulmate was brought to them, they felt slightly at ease. Just a bit. Just enough to lighten their load slightly. Because you got along so well with Osamu. You liked to play with him, you enjoyed sharing with him. Sometimes, you even ate off the same plate (something Atsumu would never tolerate. That was his food. He doesn’t share).

Their mother could rest easy knowing that even if Osamu didn’t have a soulmate, his twin brother’s soulmate would not cut him out. That Osamu could still rely on family, even if he didn’t have somebody of his own.

In hindsight, these early interactions between toddlers should have been an indication of the future. But your mothers never noticed something off. If only you had a brain developed enough to realize what was happening at such an early age.

And so you grew up with the twins, same daycares, same schools, same playgrounds. At no point were you separated. From the moment you could form coherent thoughts, they were with you, and you with them. Atsumu was your loud, boisterous soulmate. Always ready for a challenge, endlessly hungry for victory. In his middle school days he had decided he wanted to play volleyball for the rest of his life, and so that’s what he focused on. Atsumu was a simple person, his intentions and objectives were clear.

In middle school, you first wrapped your head around the fact that Atsumu was someone you had to like romantically. It was almost a foreign concept, but the young girl in you was curious, just as anyone your age would be while going through puberty. So you were excited when you and Atsumu started ‘dating’. It was what Fate had dictated, after all. You and him were meant to be together, weren’t you?

You had your first kiss with him after a volleyball game. You had been cheering from the sidelines, and Atsumu barrelled right into you after the final whistle. He was sweaty, and very sticky, and he laid an equally sticky smooch on your lips. You and him both buzzed with the adrenaline of the win, and the kiss felt nice.

You would hold hands at school, and Atsumu would walk you to class. You would always stay on the balcony during after-school practice, watching the twins play. To onlookers, it was endlessly cute. Young love, as they say.

You didn’t think too much about the fact that you did it more out of obligation than for love. You assumed this is what it was. The ‘soulmate bond’ or whatever. You didn’t need to consider it. You had always been told that your life and Atsumu’s were connected, so that was that.

And then there was Osamu. Quieter than Atsumu, but just as determined. He had a competitive streak just as mean as his brother, and at no point did he get left behind. Osamu loved volleyball, maybe not as much as his brother, but enough to invest a whole lot of his time into it. In every aspect, the twins balanced each other perfectly. Osamu knew exactly when to reign Atsumu in. He was more perceptive in that sense. He picked up on stuff that flew over Atsumu’s head sometimes. And that applied to you too.

He was your best friend.

When you would fall on the playground and skin your knees, Osamu would help you up. He would wipe the tears and snot off your face and shoulder you as you walked home. He would hold your hand while your mother would clean and patch you up. Osamu would share all his snacks with you, including candy. He didn’t mind. He always insisted that you ate so little that it hardly mattered.

In middle school, Osamu made sure to ask the volleyball team coach for permission to let you stay and watch practices. Onlookers weren’t really allowed for day-to-day training, but Osamu convinced him to make an exception. You studied together for every quiz, every test. When you would fall asleep while studying, it would always somehow be on Osamu’s bed, and he would tuck you in without fail every single time.

While Atsumu kept looking forward in life, Osamu made sure to glance back and hold your hand tight to make sure you didn’t get left behind.

He was here now too, standing outside the volleyball coach’s office with you. Your first year in Inarizaki High, and you clutched your application in your hand tightly, making Osamu tut and pull the paper from your hands lest you wrinkle it even more. He smoothed it out and gave you a quick once over, sighing a bit.

“Ya gotta cool it.” He spoke up, watching how you nervously fidgeted all over the place.

“Thanks, that helps a lot.” Sarcasm dripped from your words and you gave him a nasty look. He only rolled his eyes in return, reading over your application one more time.

“Yer gonna be fine. Once he knows you and Tsumu are soulmates, yer practically guaranteed the manager position.” He said, trying to soothe you a bit.

“How is that a guarantee?” You scoffed, staring at the closed office door.

“Because he’ll think ya can keep that scrub in line.”

You would’ve laughed if you weren’t so nervous. “He would be dead wrong. When has Atsumu ever listened to me?”

Osamu snorted. “‘M not sayin’ he would be right. But don’t ya dare correct him. I need ya on that team to keep me sane.”

You finally gave him a smile, feeling better slightly. It wasn’t really his words. Osamu’s whole presence just helped you feel better.

And he was also right. You easily got the managerial role for the Boys’ Volleyball Team. The twins whooped in celebration when you gave them the news, Atsumu laying a sloppy kiss on your cheek while Osamu just gave you an encouraging grin.

Something in you stirred when you realized that in the moment, you wanted Osamu to kiss your cheek too.

Whoa. Where did that come from?

It was easy enough to dismiss though, because Atsumu was pulling you into his lap on the couch, talking about how awesome it would be to have you actively helping the team instead of just being a spectator. Osamu’s stare wavered before dropping from you entirely. And you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes dim.

Nah, it couldn’t be, right? There was nothing to be sad about. You had just gotten the manager position. But when Atsumu tucked your head under his chin, it hit you. Osamu’s sadness was likely due to him not having a soulmate.

The topic of Osamu’s absent soulmate was something that was never brought up. Somehow, it was always ignored. He never mentioned it, and neither did you. You were unsure if he had ever talked about it with Atsumu, but you hesitated to ask. You didn’t want him feeling worse than he already probably did. And you were sure that your and Atsumu’s open displays of affection weren’t helping that fact either.

You stayed silent, though you did slowly detach Atsumu’s arms from around you and slid off his lap, instead sitting between the twins on the couch. He didn’t notice, too engrossed with whatever was happening on the TV before him. Your attention was entirely on Osamu though, trying to decipher his expression from the corner of your eye. He was still as a rock, not giving anything away.

You fought the urge to hug him.

Back in middle school, Osamu had first questioned the fact that he did not have a name on his arm. It was a silly childish tantrum, something about how come Tsumu had something that he didn’t? He had pestered his mother about it until she sat him down and explained. You don’t know what exactly they talked about, but you never heard him complain about it again.

Your overthinking mind immediately started mulling through your memories, thinking about all the times you and Atsumu had done something in front of Osamu. You felt guilt ripple through you when you realized that it all probably reminded him of his lack of soulmate. And he never said anything about it. You knew that must have been a struggle. Osamu told you everything. But maybe he felt that he couldn’t tell you about this.

The thought made your heart ache for him.

“Tsumu?”

Your boyfriend hummed in response, too focused on whatever video game he was currently obsessing over. His tongue was sticking out from the corner of his mouth, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You rolled your eyes.

“Hey, c’mon. Turn that off. I gotta talk to you about something.”

“Gimme five minutes.”

You groaned and flopped down on his bed, knowing five minutes meant at least twenty, and resigning yourself to wait for that time. If you forcefully made him quit the game, he would be distracted throughout your conversation. You needed him to be fully attentive for this.

When you finally had him settled on the bed in front of you, game turned off and him frowning at how serious you were being, you got straight to the point.

“We need to tone shit down in front of Samu.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“What does that mean?”

You explained to him how you felt that Osamu might be feeling left out when Atsumu draped himself all over you, making him hum and rub on his chin in thought.

“He never said anythin’.”

You nodded. “But he always gets kind of upset about it.”

“I haven’t noticed.”

“That’s because you’re dumb as bricks.”

“Hey!”

The conversation abruptly ends there, with Atsumu pinning you down on the bed and holding you hostage until you apologised for calling him dumb. But the agreement is made, and from then on, you and Atsumu tone down your physical affection when you’re around Osamu.

No more kisses when they picked you for school in the mornings, or after practices when they walked you home. And no more unnecessarily long hugs. And of course, no more sitting on Atsumu’s lap while Osamu was there.

You hadn’t anticipated that this meant almost no intimacy at all, because Osamu was around you two all the time. You didn’t notice that you spent so much time with him until you had to be mindful of your actions. And as the weeks passed by, your and Atsumu’s physical relationship fizzled to almost nothing.

It should have been concerning. It should have. But it wasn’t. The lack of affection did almost nothing to you. If anything, the thing you were concerned about was why you weren’t concerned. Atsumu was your soulmate, yet you could go days and weeks without feeling any need or want to kiss him or hug him. You were still around each other all the time, but the instinctual habit of being in his arms was breaking, and you felt this gnawing fear that without it, your and Atsumu’s relationship was barely a relationship.

In trying to accommodate Osamu, you discovered your lack of feelings for your soulmate.

Your second year of high school was plagued with thoughts of your hesitation, why you tried and tried, but felt almost nothing for the blond twin except the sense of kinship that came with knowing him for so long. You stared at Atsumu as he rose up in the world of volleyball. Making Nationals, going to Youth Camp, and while you did feel proud of him, there was not an ounce of you that loved him romantically.

And it made you feel lost.

All your life, you had been told Atsumu was the one for you. Your other half. The one you would marry and have kids with and die with. You had been friends with him since you could barely walk. And he had been your boyfriend since you knew what a boyfriend was. You had kissed him and hugged him and cuddled with him so often that it was almost by default. Instinct. But now that your instinct was no longer there, you felt….. nothing.

Atsumu was your friend. One of your very best friends, but no part of him made your heart beat faster or your breaths come shallower. He was just….. Atsumu.

When you kissed him in the comfort of your room, alone, you felt nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada. You had always felt nothing. But when it was part of your routine, you didn’t realise how fucked up these lack of feelings were.

Now you did.

Fear filled you when you realized how abnormal your feelings were. How could you be like this? The universe had decided Atsumu was the one for you. The fucking universe. Who were you to deny it? Who were you to question his place in your life? And how could you possibly make these feelings go away?

You were alone in this.

If only you had known back then that not loving Atsumu would soon be the very least of your concerns.

#miya osamu x reader #miya osamu fluff #miya osamu angst #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #miya osamu x you #miya osamu x y/n #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu fanfiction #soulmate au #miya osamu imagine #haikyuu angst

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onas-batlle · 23 days

Text

like daylight (part 1/?)

pairing: lucy bronze x ona batlle

warnings: none

synopsis: When you are both eighteen, anything your soulmate writes on their skin will be reflected on that of your own. Words in swirly, glowing, shimmering gold, these markings will link you forever to the one soul that is destined to intertwine with yours.

a/n: the soulmate au begins! this is kind of an intro chapter, so fair warning this first part will have a lot of keira x lucy (while they don't do anything romantic, they are in a relationship), and ona only makes one (brief) appearance. anyway, I hope the whole thing isn't super confusing, and ignore any mistakes lol.

Ao3 Link

When you are both eighteen, anything your soulmate writes on their skin will be reflected on that of your own. Words in swirly, glowing, shimmering gold, these markings will link you forever to the one soul that is destined to intertwine with yours.

It was the 27th of October, and Lucy lay stretched out on her bed on the eve of her eighteenth birthday, her mind a mess of thoughts as she grappled with the excitement of potentially being able to get in contact with her soulmate in only a few minutes.

11:57… 11:58…

She knew that it was probably going to be a girl; that realisation had already occurred and been faced head-on several years before that day, and she found that she was more concerned with whether or not her soulmate would also share her love of football than their gender identity.

She glanced at the clock again. 11:59. Lucy flopped her head back down onto her pillow and let out a groan at the slow-moving minutes, it almost seeming like the seconds were trapped in molasses. She hated to admit it, but Lucy had secretly been a romantic all her life and the idea that someone was out there in the world, crafted to fit with her exactly, was something that she had treasured forever.

12:00. Midnight.

As soon as the clock struck midnight, she eagerly grabbed a marker, pondering what her first message to her soulmate should be. She couldn't introduce herself by name - the magic didn’t allow that - so instead she tentatively wrote ‘Hi’, and waited for a response. When it didn’t come for an hour, she supposed that maybe her soulmate didn’t notice, or was busy.

When it had been a few months, she supposed that maybe her soulmate was a bit younger than her, and that was fine, she could wait.

Three, four, five, years passed and soon Lucy accepted that maybe she was just one of the unlucky ones who didn’t have a soulmate. Neither of her parents had lost hope, always having faith that one day her skin would be covered in words of gold, but after the third year ticked past, Lucy had resigned herself to the fact that there was no one written in the stars for her. Not that she cared for that fate stuff anyway, she often told herself.

So she fell into Keira. Keira, who was about as cynical as she was. Keira, who dismissed the soulmate stuff and said that they could write their own destiny. And Keira, whose hands were always covered in golden scrawls of unintelligible German. They loved each other as best as they could, anyway.

Lucy was twenty-five when a word showed up on her palm - bright and glowing gold. She kept it from Keira and hid in the bathroom to study it. It was a simple word - in Spanish, of course - Hola in loopy, curly writing. A small smiley face was dotted at the end of the word, and Lucy knew that it was for her.

So she did have a soulmate after all. One who was likely to be quite a bit younger than her, but a soulmate nonetheless.

Excitement flashed in her gut before she immediately felt guilty. Here she was, crouched in the bathroom, giddy with happiness, while her girlfriend was out in the lounge unassuming. Keira had chosen her despite knowing she had a soulmate of her own, so Lucy ignored the writing on her hand and exited the bathroom.

“You good?” Keira spoke, and Lucy just nodded, tucking her hand into her pocket. And if Keira noticed that she seemed a bit off for the next few days, she didn’t say anything.

A few more words came from her soulmate. A ‘cómo estuva tu día?’, and a ‘espero que estés bien!’ There was even some Catalan, which clued Lucy into the fact that her soulmate was from Catalonia, probably Barcelona. But as much as it pained her, Lucy ignored it all.

After that, Lucy’s soulmate didn’t write again.

A few months later, Lucy was in France. France which bordered Spain. Spain which was where her soulmate was from. She had always been drawn to Spain, even before finding out her soulmate was Spanish, but she urged herself to ignore it and just focus on football. She still had traces of gold - numbers and scrawled words, sometimes a sentence - but most of the time it was kept to a minimum.

She did know that her soulmate had tattoos though, several pieces having been marked into her skin for weeks until they faded, and several weeks where she was forced to wear long sleeve shirts to hide the swirling lines on her bicep that made up a map of the world.

She remembered one time when she awoke and went to take a shower, spotting yet another piece of inkwork. It was a lioness, glowing brightly on her shoulder blade, and Lucy had to choke back a laugh at the irony. She was unsure if her soulmate knew who she was, but their souls were intrinsically linked, so she shouldn’t really be surprised.

Keira eventually found out about Lucy’s soulmate, of course. She always knew when the fullback was keeping a secret, and it was stupid to assume that she could have kept something that big under wraps.

During one of the England camps, Lucy was walking to breakfast when someone suddenly caught her wrist and tugged her down a hallway, the English woman unable to stifle her small scream of surprise. When she finally got her bearings, she focused on Keira stood in front of her, a frown on her face.

“What’s wrong?” Lucy questioned, blinking in confusion at Keira’s expression, the midfielder’s eyes boring into her, unimpressed. Keira just let out a sigh at her question and grabbed Lucy’s hand, turning it over so her palm was facing down, revealing the glittering gold words on the back of it.

“Why not,” Keira read out and dropped Lucy’s hand, who had the decency to look a little sheepish. “Don’t think you went out and wrote this in gold ink by yourself, did you?” the midfielder stated and levelled the fullback with a pointed look. Lucy opened her mouth to respond when Keira sighed again and uncrossed her arms.

“Luce, I’m not angry. I mean I have a soulmate too. I just wish that you would’ve told me.”

“I’m sorry. I- I don’t really know why I hid it from you, because you told me about yours and it was fine. It was shitty of me,” Lucy responded, hanging head slightly. She never meant to hurt Keira, after all.

Keira graced her with a small smile and shook her head before waving her hand to dismiss Lucy’s words. “Well, at the end of the day, we picked each other, didn’t we?”

Lucy was relieved to hear those words, glad her moments of weakness had not ruined their relationship, and so they went on with their lives, mostly unchanged. There was always that niggling thought in the back of her mind though, the one that belonged to a hopeful little girl who wanted to find the one person that had been made especially for her. But she was not a little girl anymore, and she had Keira now, so Lucy shoved those traitorous thoughts aside and tried her best to focus on her current relationship. The one that she chose .

When was twenty-nine, Lucy found herself back in Manchester. The return was mostly for Keira - the distance having put a slight strain on their relationship, and truthfully, Lucy had felt a little bit homesick anyway.

She’d always enjoyed just simply watching football, and naturally, she loved to take notice of the skills of other players who played alongside and against her.

It was the Manchester Derby when she spotted her , the right back for the other team. She was small but quick and hurtled up the right wing with a passion that Lucy hadn’t seen in a long time. While United did lose the Derby, the unnamed player still marched up to all of the City players, jaw set, and offered them a handshake in thanks.

Something tugged in Lucy’s heart as the short woman made her way around all of Lucy’s teammates, and she watched on until she was standing directly in front of her.

“Good game,” the player spoke, extending her hand in front of her and tilting her chin up to meet Lucy’s eyes. The English fullback, almost involuntarily, dragged her eyes over the features of the other defender, drinking in the constellations of freckles that dotted across tanned skin, the shiny brown eyes that were filled with a fiery determination, and the full lips that were currently pressed into a firm line.

“Oh!” Lucy exclaimed as she realised that had been looking for a bit too long and reached out to grasp the other woman’s hand. “You guys had a good game too!”

As their skin made contact, the English woman flinched momentarily as she swore she could feel sparks pass between them and mentally berated herself at the physical reaction. An odd look passed across the other woman’s face, and before Lucy could even blink, she was gone, but not before the City player caught a glimpse of something tattooed on the departing player’s right hand.

She stood, stock still in shock for a few minutes until Keira came up to her and tilted her head inquisitively, before leading Lucy off the pitch and down the tunnel. She enquired about the player afterwards (“sizing up the competition are we Bronzey?”), and she was told that her name was Ona Batlle and that she was from Spain. The mention of that country caused Lucy’s stomach to twist, and she told herself off for the hope that flickered in her stomach at the idea that she could have just met her soulmate.

When home, she opened her phone to look at Ona’s Instagram, just to figure out if the other woman had those tattoos that had shown up on her own skin for a short period, but one glance at Keira who was washing her hands in the kitchen had her closing the app. She couldn’t go there. It wouldn’t be fair.

The next couple of years passed rather uneventfully, in terms of her personal life anyway, but soon she found herself starting to feel the boredom again, Manchester City not really ticking all her boxes anymore.

Lucy wanted to win, win something big like the UWCL, and City just wasn’t cutting it. When she got the offer from Barcelona her first instinct was to immediately agree, but she had to pause to weigh the decision that she was facing.

Firstly there was the thing about her soulmate. She hated that that was the first thing her mind went to, but she’d spent several years grappling with her relationship with Keira and with the potential person that was predestined for her, so moving to Spain - which could place her within meeting distance of her soulmate - could cause all sorts of problems. The second thing she had to consider was that she might have had to do long distance with Keira again, but that was quickly forgotten when the midfielder told her that Barcelona wanted her as well.

After a few weeks of discussion, they decided to make the move to Barcelona.

Several months later, after an amazing Euros that left them Champions of Europe, Lucy and Keira packed up to go to Spain. All seemed to have been going well - they were winning their games, and they were settling in well, but over the weeks, the romance between them came to a grinding halt and they found their relationship evolving into something merely platonic. It only took a few more weeks until it all came to a head.

Lucy came home from the shops one day and saw Keira standing there, waiting for her with red-rimmed eyes and a sniffle. She didn’t even have time to reach out to ask what was wrong before Keira spoke, a distressed look painting her features.

“Lucy, I’m sorry.”

It was silent for a few beats, but Lucy knew what words Keira was about to follow up with before she even opened her mouth to speak them.

“I’ve met my soulmate.”

The words hung in the air, and for some reason, it was relieving. They had only really been glorified roommates the past few months, anyway, and suddenly a weight felt like it had been lifted off Lucy’s chest.

“I know that I said soulmates are bullshit and we can choose who we want to be with but..” Keira trailed off and bit her lip. “Her name is Laura, and she’s lovely, and Lucy I think I would hate myself if I didn’t even try.”

“We haven’t done anything, by the way. I would never. It wouldn’t be fair to you. Even if we haven’t really been all that romantic lately, I wouldn’t betray you like that,” Keira rushed to get out, eyes beginning to fill with tears.

Lucy offered her a small smile. “Keira, it’s okay. Honest.”

They parted ways amicably, and while she did feel a bit sad that she no longer had a companion to spend her time with, she was okay. And when Keira posted a photo of her and Laura to her close friends’ story, Lucy was the first to like it.

A few more weeks passed, and it was only then that she allowed herself to even think about her own soulmate again. They hadn’t written to each other at all since Lucy had ignored the messages all those years ago, but the random doodles and numbers didn’t once cease. Her mind still lingered on that one Manchester United defender she had shaken hands with while she was still at City, but it had been so long now that she’d kind of abandoned the idea, so Lucy just decided to park that theory for the time being.

And then came Lucy Staniforth’s wedding.

#lucy bronze x ona batlle #ona batlle x lucy bronze #lucy bronze #ona batlle #woso imagines #woso fanfics #my fics

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thisisourlovestory · 26 days

Text

Safe and Sound

Finnick Odair x reader soulmate AU

Summary: you are a victor from district 4. The Quarter Quell has just been announced. How will you cope with the turn of events coming your way.

Wordcount- 3.9k

Notes- okay so this has taken a lot longer than I thought it would but it’s here now finally. And I have changed my url so I’m sorry if you thought this was some random person tagging you

Chapter 6

I woke up the next morning sprawled across my bed and tangled in the sheets. I stumbled up and made my way into the dining area, only bothering to wrap a dressing gown around myself so as to not expose my arms. Unfortunately Lysander greeted me much too cheerfully the second I stepped foot in the room, with a wide grin and loud words.

“Good morning!” He trilled. “Sit, sit and eat. You have an important day ahead of you.” I slumped down into a seat and grabbed an apple, biting into the crisp red skin and sinking my teeth deep into its flesh.

“So what did you get up to with the lovely Megara last night?” He inquired as an avox served him a plate of toast piled with eggs and cheese and ham. I judged his choice in food for a moment and then almost snorted as his words registered in my mind. He certainly wasn't being subtle at all I thought as Finnick and Mags entered and seated themselves. I took another bite out of my apple and grinned.

I stepped out of the bathroom in a pair of silk pyjama shorts and a loose top. Megara was sprawled across my bed, shovelling ice cream into her mouth as fast as physically possible. She noticed me and smacked the bed.

“Sit.” I sat. “Now spill. You and Finnick flipping Odair.” I sighed.

“Pass me a cupcake. No, not that one. No, no, yes. Thanks.” I peeled the case off and bit into it, the rich chocolate and caramel spreading across my tongue. “I found out when I first got it.” I showed her my wrist and she inspected it closely. “We were, well we were friends I suppose. After I won that is. I saw his once, it was an accident. I don’t think anyone else really knows he even had one.” I took another bite of my cupcake. “We kinda stuck together for a couple of years. He helped me through the aftermath and the nightmares and everything.” She looked at me curiously.

“So what happened?”

“Annie Cresta happened. When she won everything changed. You know how the boy she went in with that year was decapitated and she lost it?”

“Everyone knows, though the Capitol tries to brush over it.” I laughed quietly.

“Well when she came back she was absolutely broken. She couldn’t function by herself. So Finnick helped her. At first I knew it was necessary, she probably would have offed herself otherwise, but the days passed to weeks and weeks to months. He had just,” I breathed, “He had just left me and gone to her.”

Megara's mouth opened in a shocked expression.

“You would’ve been fifteen?”

“Almost sixteen.”

“And he just, what, abandoned you?” I shrugged.

“Love is weird. It comes and goes at the most unexpected of times and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.” She placed a hand on her forehead.

“Okay, sorry for interrupting. Please continue.”

“The nightmares came back, I spiralled, I spent I think two months here. Doing shows, staying as far away from them as I could. I mainly talked to Effie and Haymitch.” I smiled fondly. “They were really something. Always bickering and picking at each other like an old married couple. They made me laugh a lot, the only thing I laughed at really. Then it all changed again. But that’s not relevant.” I ignored her look and powered ahead. “I stopped talking to anyone, unless I had to, I wouldn’t say a word. I sang at shows but nothing more. And that was my life I guess. Not happy, not sad. It just was.”

Megara unexpectedly leapt across the bed and engulfed me in a hug.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through that.” She pulled away. “I can't imagine if I met my soulmate and then had to pretend like they meant nothing to me.” I smiled back at her sadly.

“Like I said, love is weird. And why would he want me when he has her.” With that I flopped down in bed and curled up in a ball. “Goodnight.”

“We didn't do anything interesting. I ate a bit then fell asleep. I was tired.” I smiled tightly at Lysander, a glint of challenge in my eyes before my gaze slipped to my plate and I took a second bite out of my apple. It tasted like ash in my mouth. “What's on the agenda today?” With that his eyes lit up and he beamed.

“Training.”

As it turned out, training was in fact the only thing on the agenda. I walked into the room and was greeted by the sight of the majority of the other tributes already showing off. My eyes flicked around the room for a second, Finnick was already bothering Katniss, the girl looked extremely unimpressed at him showing her how to tie a knot in the rope and didn't even try to hide her disgusted expression as he pretended to hang himself. I made my own way over to the survival skills section, I immediately picked up two pieces of wood and began to rub them together to little effect. Just as I was about to give up a shadow appeared above me.

“You have to rub quicker, and lower down.” Katniss took the sticks from me and demonstrated. “See.” I nodded slowly.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” With that she turned and made her way to one of the compartmentalised training rooms, grabbing a bow and a sheaf of arrows along the way. I watched from a distance as she put an arrow through each glowing hologram that appeared. I started as I saw one holding an axe and it immediately disintegrated, a small bolt of fear shooting through me. Were they supposed to represent us? My question was answered as another showed up holding a trident and resulted in the same fate. The closer I watched, I could see more similarities between the holograms and all the people stood watching. Johanna and Finnick were obvious, two appearing next to each other and reacting in sync, Cashmere and Gloss, one with long, sharp nails that none of the others had, Enobaria. A really burly one, Brutus and a couple of spindly ones, the morphlings.

Bile rose in my throat as Katniss annihilated them all. Then just as everyone thought the simulation had ended, a final hologram appeared. Smaller and thinner than all the others and it threw a golden blaze at her which she ducked and suddenly an arrow was lodged in it and it dissolved like all the others. It was clear that it was supposed to be. All the movements of the other holograms had been techniques the corresponding victors used in their games, the weapons they were most famed for using. And the Capitol had simply taken those moves and projected them into the simulation. But for me, the only moves I had back then were throwing that one knife and then my shoes. So that was what they had to use. I stayed frozen in my spot as the others stared at Katniss, contemplating looks in their eyes. I could see the cogs turning in their brains, they wanted her as their ally, who wouldn't to be honest. She was the favourite to win at the moment- perhaps also Finnick- and she would get sponsors upon sponsors. I watched her gaze pass over all of them to settle on me; I stared back at her blankly for a moment before she looked over to Peeta who stood watching her from the camouflage station, his arm covered in detailed paintings of rocks and tree bark. He smiled slightly and turned back to his work.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to see a grinning Finnick.

“Quite the spectacle she's put on wouldn't you say?” He asked and I hummed in response. “She'd be a good ally.” I shrugged.

“I guess.”

“You guess?” He scoffed. “With an aim like that she could take out all of us in a matter of seconds.” My lip quirked upwards at his words. He didn't know just how true they were.

“I suppose, but if she was your ally, one wrong move and you'd be six feet under. But by all means, ally with the girl on fire; when she decides to kill you- don't say I didn't warn you.” I spun on my heel and strode away from him, my shoulder tingled where he had touched me and I felt a tug in my chest at the growing distance. It was as if the more time we spent around each other the more the- well I suppose the word that the Capitol used to describe it was a bond- the more the bond seemed to recognise us as soulmates and tried to drag us together. It was the only reasonable explanation for why he was talking to me.

I walked with my head down, stepping to the side to avoid bumping into other people. I made my way to a station where the two from district 3 had settled themselves at after struggling to light a fire and were fiddling around with wires and bolts. I sat myself down and picked up a few thin pieces of bronze metal. I twisted them together, intricately weaving them in a complicated pattern so they formed a pin of sorts. I twisted my hair up and stuck it through, the metal scraping along my scalp as I shook my head to make sure it was secure.

“The gamemakers won't be too impressed with that.” Beetee spoke quietly from beside me and I made a face.

“I don't really care. They're the ones hiding behind a forcefield.” His gaze sharpened.

“How do you know that?” I shrugged in response.

“The shimmer in the corners. Makes it look a bit like glass but they don't want us to know they're afraid of us and glass is too noticeable. Next best thing is a forcefield, I mean it uses a lot of the energy in this place. Zaps it like,” I snapped my fingers, “that, but most people won't know how to recognise it at all so they can keep up their pretences without worrying about one of us trying to murder them where they stand.”

Beetee stared at you for a second before a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“A scholar I see.”

“Just curious.”

“Not even some adults back home would be able to tell me that.” Beetee murmured. “You've done your research.” I looked up to the gamemakers.

“Well,” I spoke softly, scratching at my wrist absently,”you never know what they'll throw at you and it's always good to be prepared.” He hummed in assent as Wiress tugged on a loose strand of my hair, babbling nonsense under her breath. I gently extracted myself from her fingers and wished them a pleasant day, a hint of sarcasm in my voice, before I left them to fiddle with their little toys.

I found myself wandering through the huge building, mindlessly gazing around. My eyes flitting over the white surfaces, shining brightly in the even whiter light from the ceilings. All of a sudden I heard voices. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, was that Finnick and Haymitch? Talking to Plutarch Heavensbee? I listened intently, pressing myself against the wall next to the tiny crack in the door to hear better. My eyes gradually widened with each sentence that left their mouths, I couldn't believe it myself, I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't been hearing it directly from the source. They stopped talking and I ran. I sprinted down the corridors and to the lifts, frantically pressing the buttons as I entered and running out just as quickly. I didn't slow down until I slammed the door to my room shut and launched myself onto my bed, clutching a pillow so hard my knuckles started to turn white. They were planning to get Katniss out of the games and start a revolution. A revolution. My mind repeated those words for minutes, my mouth moving to spell it out in disbelief. Slowly the disbelief I felt faded into determination. They clearly hadn’t been about to tell me anything about it, I wouldn’t be included in their alliance. But I could sure as hell help.

Throughout the next couple of days, I woke up as early as possible to train without anyone watching me. I would take my ballet shoes down with me and wear them as I threw knives at the holograms, rise onto my toes and dance around them in circles until my feet were bleeding and bruised. The pain only made me work harder, if I could fight with my feet broken beneath me then I could run forever and wouldn’t feel a thing. On the last day before the games would begin I did the same as I had been. But when I had destroyed the holograms a hundred times over I didn’t stop, I dropped the daggers in my hands and closed my eyes as I spun and leapt. For the first time in years no one was watching me and I could just dance. Even on the train there had been cameras pointed at me but in the interest of not wanting anyone to get mad and try to kill them the gamemakers had left the training room cameraless. So I danced as if I was a child again and my mother was watching me from the door of the house cheering me on. And then I fell. My ankle gave out beneath me and I crashed to the floor. I landed on my side, my arms crossed to hold my head off the floor. I pushed myself up and undid my shoes; pulled them off my feet and stood up. When I fell I had accidentally pressed a button and holograms had appeared again. I reached down to grab the daggers again as they advanced towards me.

“You wanna play?” One of them threw the knife they were holding at me. It skimmed my cheek; I lifted a hand up to touch it. My fingers came away red and I laughed quietly. “Fine, I’ll play.” With that something inside me cracked and I leapt forward. I was like a hurricane as they all rushed at me and I weaved through the gaps leaving bloody footprints wherever I stepped. I rained down blow after blow on them, if holograms could bleed I would have been covered. But they couldn’t bleed and they couldn’t die, they just disintegrated into orange sparks whenever my blade hit home in their rib cages only for more to take their place. I dodged and threw and stabbed until I thought the simulation ended and I stood in the centre of the room. The air moved and in the blink of an eye I spun and struck, the last thing I saw of the hologram was the trident in it's hand. Then I heard the clapping.

I turned around quickly to see Johanna watching me. I quickly stepped outside.

“What do you want?” She grinned.

“Who knew you could fight princess. I’d actually be quite impressed if I didn’t think you’d payed for some poor Capitol bastard to teach you.” A hysterical giggle forced itself out of my throat and for a second an unreadable expression passed over her face like a cloud. I picked up my shoes by the ribbons and let them dangle by my legs as her eyes went to my feet. “Aww did standing up by herself for a moment make the princesses feet hurt?” I swallowed.

“You don’t know me Johanna Mason.” I spat. “You don’t know anything about me so do not make assumptions about things that you do not understand.” She watched me walk away, yelling after me.

“See you later princess.” I ignored her, focusing on not leaving a trail of blood back to the room.

A few hours later, after I had bandaged up my feet, I headed back down for the evaluations. The others were already there and I sat down at the end of a bench. Feeling eyes on me I looked up and locked eyes with Katniss, she stood up and made her way over to me. She sat down silently and I looked at the pin she had on her top.

“A mockingjay.” She looked up at me surprised.

“Yeah. How did you know?” I laughed.

“Some members of the Capitol have them as pets. Ones they managed to catch after the jabberjays bred with mockingbirds. They domesticated them and have them sing all day every day.” My voice turned sharp. “They don’t like being reminded of their failures so they turn them into spectacles.” My head turned as the robotic voice spoke ‘Y/N L/N report for evaluation.’ I stood up slowly and walked past Finnick who was exiting and into the training room. I was greeted by the sight of the gamemakers laughing and talking with each other, completely ignoring my presence as I made my way over to the weapons stand. One of them spared me a glance before dismissing me. They knew who I was and they didn’t think I was a threat. I took a step forward, narrowing my eyes and realised something. The force field was strong if it was concentrated, but it was only being held together by four balls that it was projected out of, one in each corner creating a screen. So it was strong at the outside but where it all met in the centre would be weaker. I grinned at my revelation and practically skipped back to the table with the knives on. I picked one up and balanced it on my finger, I quickly looked around and grabbed a long piece of rope, tying it around the handle. I twisted the end of the rope around one hand and pirouetted, as my head whipped to the front I let the knife fly through the air, right through the centre of the forcefield. It embedded itself in a piece of watermelon and then the wall. I gripped the rope harder and yanked towards me, I caught the knife and raised the dripping red fruit up to my mouth to take a bite as I curtseyed deeply, dipping my head and letting my foot slide as far behind as possible. I smiled sweetly at their horrified expressions. You can almost see the thoughts running through their heads I mused as I walked calmly out of the room, head held high.

I was waylaid by Lysander who dragged me back to the room and made Finnick and I sit until the scoring was announced hours later, I was almost falling asleep in my chair. Yawning widely and eyes drooping until the music sounded and I bolted up. The second Gloss’ photo appeared on screen with a score of 10 flashing under him my heart sank. My little outburst would probably not have gained me anything other than a low score. The rest of the careers had predicatably high scores, Brutus an 11 and Finnick the same. Lysander screeched happily at his score, patting him on the back furiously and I murmured my congratulations. Then it was my turn. My face appeared on the screen and a bright bold number 12 flashed underneath it. I spat out my water in shock and blinked rapidly as Lysander gaped at the screen. Mags patted me gently on the shoulder, giving me a small smile; Finnick leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.

“Congratulations angel.” The nickname shook me out of my trance.

“Angel?” He shrugged and gave me an easy smile.

“Yeah, you looked like an angel on the chariots and you certainly act like an angel, especially with that little girl.” His voice turned serious. “But something tells me you aren’t such an angel as everyone thinks you are.” My lip twitched and I forced it to stay in a straight line.

“Maybe you’re right.” I turned around, my back to him, his eyes searing into my skin as I whispered. “But some things cannot be determined with a passing glance.”

The next day was the day of the interviews. I was slumped in a chair, clad in a silk robe, as my prep team scoured my body. They perfected every imperfection they could find until my skin was like a blank canvas. All the while they chattered, asking me not so subtly about my evaluation score and even less subtly if I had a soulmate- thankfully they didn’t question my insistency that I covered my wrist while they ‘cleaned me up’. I ignored them for the most part until Priscilla began to waffle on about Finnick. I clenched my fists and tried to block her out, waiting for her to finish. But she wouldn't stop, she went on and on about him, his… relationships with Capitol women and then what a shame it was that he might die. My fingernails dug crescent moons into my palms until I felt pinpricks of pain and saw tiny specks of blood beading on my skin. I settled for fiddling with the robe until they left. The girls walked through the door giggling with each other as Quintus turned around to me.

“I understand how you feel.”

“What?” I asked confused.

“You have a soulmate yes?” I nodded slowly. “But he either doesn’t want you or doesn’t know about you.” I nodded again.

“The second.”

“I had a soulmate once.”

“You did?” I mumbled.

“It was about 15 years ago. I had just started working here for the games and she was a tribute.” He laughed slightly and ran his hand through his hair. “She hated me, I tried to get her to run away with me before the games could start but she wouldn’t let the kid from her district die even if it meant she lived. They only lasted 5 days in the arena.” He smiled sadly. “But those last couple of days she was alive and I got to see her were the best couple of days in my life.”

“What are you saying?” I whispered.

“Don’t waste time. Every second with the ones we love is precious.” Just as suddenly as he had begun the conversation he left the doorway, leaving me in silence.

Soon enough Megara came in, laden with bags upon bags containing god knows what. She dragged a chair over and sat down opposite me. She pulled out a teapot and two cups before setting them down on the table ignoring my incredulous look. She poured tea into the two cups added a splash of milk and sugar to one and gave me an inquisitive look. I shook my head, clearing my thoughts as I poured milk into the cup and spooned 3 teaspoons of sugar into the cup.

“So honey, how are you feeling about the interviews?”

“Honey? Aren’t you younger than me.”

“Nope,” she popped the p,” I’m 24.” I sighed.

“They can only go so badly right.” She grinned; took a sip of her tea, placed it down, stood up and walked over to a huge bag hung up on the door.

“I suppose we’ll see then.” She unzipped the bag and I gasped.

Taglist:

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#finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick x you #the hunger games #finnick odair x you #thg x reader #catching fire #angst

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biscuitblinkeu · 3 months

Text

To be Loved

Fluff • Abuse • Smut

Park Chaeyoung x Fem!reader -> Requested

Word Count: 6885~

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, violence, soft NSFW

Prompt: Soulmate AU with spoice— (reader is shorter than Rosè)

A/N: The long awaited one shot… yeah. I’m on my knees type of sorry for how long this took to get finish. Also, spice starts near the end— SJDHFHDHDJDJ don’t tell me anything about it, just let me fade into existence LOL. It’s not my strong suit, so bear with me. I hope you like some part of it anon! 😭🤞🏽

Soulmates were such a complicated concept. They could be born many years before or after one another; die before meeting; fall in love with someone else— thus breaking their tie; or right out reject their fated pair. They could be halfway across the world, or live in a completely different society than your own.

There were those who didn’t believe in Soulmates, those that thought the system wasn’t fair. But what was fair about fate? It was just a way to bind two people together. Forever. You either got lucky or you didn’t, there’s no in between— soulmates are simply a random occurrence. And the world was too cruel to give everyone the same happiness.

You were one of the few people who didn’t believe in soulmates despite the evidence they were real being all around you. You didn’t believe in the fairytales from poets, the grand, romanticized adventures about those looking for their fated pair, those who traveled across the world, suffered many hardships, and finally, by the wonderful power of destiny, found their other half.

It was all a joke to you. It was unhealthy, too. Imagine spending almost your whole life wishing upon a dazzling shooting star for a soulmate to take you away from the loneliness and the imaginary scenarios, making them true, only to find out they died or broke the tie. Or to pathetically plead to the otherworldly force that created soulmates each year for someone to save you, to love you, for it to not be answered?

It was your own personal experience— something you believed to be a forever thing.

It wasn’t.

The crescent moon grinned down upon you mockingly, its light illuminating the streets. Everyone seemed to always have a destination in mind, somewhere they knew they had to go. You were always lost.

A bitter wind nipped at your face and hands, and you pulled your scarf up more.You looked at the heavy brown-paper bag in your hands and sighed, you had to go back home. Those all familiar feelings bubbled up inside of you once again: hopelessness; fear. These feelings made you hurt, they were empty feelings that just seemed to grow bigger everyday, making it harder for you to have control. You clenched your fists to stop the shaking, even dug your nails into your skin. It didn’t help.

(Even if you did right, you’d still get punished).

That’s how it always started: the trembling. It started from your fingers and made its way through your body till you’re shaking. When you shake you no longer have control of your nerves. If you’ve lost control of your nerves, you get dizzy. Then you’ve lost the ability to breathe properly… and you drown.

You ripped your gaze away from the bag that held bottles of tequila and champagne and forced your feet to move forward. Though, too caught up in trying to prevent yourself from getting overwhelmed, you failed to notice the wild animal scurrying on the sidewalk in front of you. A shriek left you and the bag in your hands dropped as you jumped out of surprise, its contents smashing and spilling out on the floor and your shoes. The smell is strong, and you wrinkle your nose.

There goes your chance at having a peaceful night.

You hope they’ve fallen asleep and forgot. When you’re walking up the driveway you saw that the lights were still on. They’ve just forgotten to turn them off. They’re asleep, you told yourself over and over as you're unlocking the door.

They’re not.

Your mother was still perched on her soulmate’s lap, just as she was when you went out, looking at you expectantly. Your eyes darted to the floor, and a quiet, shaky breath left your lips.

She noticed your hands are empty and her face falls. You could see the burning color appear on her cheeks— she’s angry now, and in front of her soulmate you’ve embarrassed her?

“Excuse me,” she murmured as she slid off his lap. She walked past you, heading to the hallway, and even though she doesn’t verbally tell you to follow her or do any type of gesture, you just know to follow her.

You’re in the hallway, and oh, what a hazardous place to be in. Your eyes darted around the small corridor, taking mental notes of what looked sharp and what could bruise you and what might— “(Y/n).” Her voice was cold and it made you jump, she gave you a what-the-fuck look. “Where are our drinks? Where have you gone to take this long and come back empty handed? Where’s my money? Where has it been spent?” She bombarded you with questions.

“I had them, but…” Should you tell her you were a klutz and dropped it?

Well, you’re unable to anyways. The moment your mom scrunched her nose up with that glint in her eyes you knew what was coming, yet you weren’t ready for it. It was just so fast.

A heavy, hard smack collided with your cheek, knocking you off balance to the ground. The trip wasn’t so smooth as your back dug into the sharp dresser edge on the way. You held your cheek, blinking rapidly as pain assaulted your senses. God, your head was spinning, your ears were ringing, and your face burned. You bit your lip to stop any cries. Tears pricked at your eyes and you refused to look at her, your gaze trained to the polished wood boards.

Your mother has already come up with her scenario, her answer instead of hearing you out. (Not that the outcome would be any different, but maybe less harsh).

“So you decided to drink it yourself, huh?” She scoffed, rubbing at her temples like you were an annoying headache. “I knew I smelt something… You naughty little girl, that was ours!” You still smelt like the alcohol, meaning you must’ve drunk theirs, that’s the only reasonable conclusion, right?

You saw her coming closer to you. She grabbed a handful of your hair and you yelped, forced to stand up. Your legs scrambled for grip underneath you and as soon as it’s gained, it’s lost when your mother’s knuckles collide with your jaw on the same side of the slap. She was not going easy on you, and you deserve it. You deserve this, because this is what you get for not paying attention.

Your vision blurred for a moment and you finally let a cry escape your lips. “Mom!” Your mother rolled her eyes and practically manhandled you to your room, her nails digging into the side of your waist and arm with a bruising grip as she pushed you forward. “Mom! Please stop, it hurts!”

“Good,” she sneered, fingers digging deeper into your skin. You whimpered in agony. “You had one job…couldn’t even do that.” You’re scared, everything hurts, and you're beginning to tremble again, and this time, maybe you’ll welcome the panic if it’ll give you something else to focus on.

She pushed you onto your bedroom floor and snorted at your state. “Go to bed. I don’t want to hear anything from you.” Then she slammed the door, the sound ringing in your ears.

You didn’t have the energy to drag yourself onto your bed, and would rather not risk making things harder for yourself, so you curled up on the ground. The sharp smell of cigarettes lingered in the air, causing your nose to sting, each shallow intake of air more stuttered than the last as you began to weep. The gash on your cheek was painful, and the feeling of a wet sensation let you know that the skin was broken and bleeding.

You can’t do this anymore.

You've seen how hard it is for people with mothers and fathers that aren’t soulmates. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. You’ve experienced it first hand.

Your mom and dad weren’t soulmates, just two people that stopped trying. Ever since your mom found her soulmate (Evan) and broke up with your dad, you were able to see your mom finally in true love, yet your dad was broken. His soulmate, who died before they could meet, awaited him in the afterlife. Not long before they broke up, it was like the Universe decided he had nothing else to live for if not with his soulmate, and he passed.

Since then, Evan stopped you from finishing your studies to stay home and take care of your mom and the expected baby. The miscarriage was highly unexpected, and you’ve been the punching bag since. Your little brother's death was traumatic for them, and they couldn’t come up with a reason why it had to be that way— so it was pushed onto you.

It’s your fault, your mom told you; you should’ve taken care of her better, Evan had said, she was too stressed out because of you. You’ll never find your soulmate, they said, creating the first crack. You're unlovable. Useless. Who could ever love you? You’re here because your soulmate left you.

(It was then you realized you couldn’t rely on a soulmate to save you).

With your studies discontinued, your life plans were shattered. You've been forced to live with your mom since your dad died, having no other place to go. You’ve hopped from job to job, saving up money to leave and get back on track, but they take it away from you anyways. You're stuck.

That’s why you decided to run away.

When Evan and your mom retired to their room, you waited a few hours, then snuck out of your room— for the first time grateful for not having a lock— with a bag packed. You always kept some funds away from your mother, funds she didn’t know about, and today you would use them. The downstairs was quiet, and you made sure to stray away from creaky floorboards. You turned the corner, flinching upon seeing Evan in the kitchen digging through the fridge. You needed to go through the kitchen to get out. His droopy, unkind eyes settled on you.

“Hey,” he said, frowning as he put his cup down. “Aren’t you supposed to be in your room?”

When he took a step towards you, you bolted, running past him and throwing the door open. A moment later the same door flew open, and you realized he was chasing you. “Hey! Fuck— get back here!”

You ran harder, barely getting air into your lungs as you turned corners and ran through streets, bumping into people. When you no longer heard his voice yelling after you, you switched into a slow jog, then a tired walk.

You walked a few blocks, then entered a café to rest.

You glanced around the room, noting how cozy it was. It reminded you of how your grandma’s house would have a homey atmosphere; old family photographs hung proudly on the walls, soft music playing from a record player, and the air scented with something that made you warm. There weren't many customers, and you figured it was close to closing.

You hung your backpack over a chair and sat down, resting your head on the table, taking a much needed break. You would order a drink, but didn’t want to inconvenience the baristas since they were cleaning up. When you felt your eyes closing, you reminded yourself to leave before

they closed.

It wasn’t long before you slipped into a nap, the comforting atmosphere lulling you deeper, and ignored the almost overwhelming feeling in your heart. You ignored the tugging sensation on your index finger too.

“Excuse me,” a voice whispered, accompanied by a soft tap on your shoulder. When you didn’t respond, she lightly shook your shoulder.

You flinched awake and she furrowed her brows. “Hi, I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to scare you, but it’s closing time and…” She trailed off.

You couldn’t believe Rosé from Blackpink, global kpop star and ambassador, was in front of you. You took note of the khaki, bear-printed apron she wore along with a name tag,p: the café’s uniform. But more importantly, why was she so much prettier up close? Her blonde hair was in a ponytail, and a couple strands were left out to frame her face. Her eyes were a soft but narrow shape, giving them a natural innocent look, and her nose was perfectly straight and sculpted. The bit of freckles that graced her nose and cheeks made her even more breathtaking.

The ever so reddening of her cheeks let you know that you were staring far too long.

You quickly stood up and unhooked your backpack from the wooden chair, slinging it over your back. “I’m sorry,” you apologized almost immediately, as if it’s out of habit. Your eyes darted back to the floor, and she felt her heart break.

Something clearly wasn’t right.

“I’ll leave now…thank you for waking me up.” Without waiting for her response you started to walk away, unable to endure her curious gaze any longer. Though, a hand wrapping itself around your wrist stops you in your actions, and prompts a quiet gasp to leave your lips. Her touch was electric. You turned back around, trying not to dwell on the warmth encasing your wrist, and faced her.

Why did she just grab you? She, too, looked shocked. Her cheeks dusted with a light pink as she looked away from you. Did she feel it too?

Looking down, she noticed the harsh blobs of purple and green peeking out from your hoodie sleeve and her heart jumped for a whole different reason. They were shaped like fingerprints— like someone grabbed you violently. At the realization, she was momentarily rendered speechless.

She only had one thing on her mind, and it wouldn't be right if she ignored it. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she looked down briefly before looking you straight in the eyes. Her eyes soft with concern, she asked, “Are you okay?” Immediately, you tensed up. You inhaled sharply, attempting to steady yourself by taking deep breaths. “You’re hurt. Who did this to you?” She pressed.

There it was. You could feel tears building at the corners of your eyes, and she definitely noticed. You tried to speak, but your tongue felt too heavy to form coherent words. “I— I’m…” You're fine? You injured yourself?

“Please tell me, I need to know.” Her voice was stern yet laced with a gently concern. You weren’t getting out of this. Her hand loosened its grip, but didn't fully let go. Did she know you would bolt the moment she did?

Your vision started to blur, and you blinked rapidly against the incoming stream of tears. It’s all you can do to keep yourself together. One part of you wanted to tell her, wanted to spill everything, the other held you back and wanted to tell a lie. You shouldn’t burden her. You could take care of yourself. But you couldn’t bring yourself to utter those words.

Noticing your inner turmoil, Rosé backtracked, and apologies were leaving her mouth in a rapid rush. “Sorry, I’m so sorry. That was very rude of me. I’m Chaeyoung. You are?”

You sniffled, feeling slightly overwhelmed. “…(Y/n).”

She smiled lightly. “(Y/n)? Your name is beautiful, I love it. Now… I know I was really forward just now, but I’m worried about you. I can’t just leave this unattended, I— I want to help you…if that’s alright.”

“Help?” You repeated quietly. The word felt foreign on your tongue, even more so hearing it applied to your situation. Usually people looked the other way, not wanting to get involved or merely too scared to. And you’ve gotten so used to it that you felt you weren’t deserving of help. Now, you bitterly wondered why it took so long to come to you, especially in times of need.

“Yes. Do you want my help?” She asked again, softer.

God, yes. Yes, you want help. You could only nod your head, a quiet sob leaving your lips. You hid your face, self-conscious in front of her. Suddenly, you're engulfed in a warmth, such a comforting embrace, and it only makes the tears fall harder.

“It’ll be okay,” she murmured, letting you cry into her chest. She was taller than you, her chin resting delicately upon the crown of your head. The feeling of being cared for washed over you, easing your stress for a minute, allowing you to take some time to calm down. Her scent filled your lungs, and you could have sworn you smelled a floral mixed with vanilla.

Once you calmed down enough, you pulled away and managed to whisper a hoarse, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she replied. “Now, can I know what’s going on in order to help you better?”

After that short moment, you told her - a stranger you surprisingly felt you could trust - everything. You told her about your parents, getting chased as you tried to leave the house, and the origin of the bruises. You kept it brief, however, and once you explained the details of your situation she offered to take you to the hotel she was staying at.

You were hesitant to leave the café, fearing your family was searching the streets for you, she called her manager to get the two of you and you waited inside. While waiting, she asked you a few things about yourself and exchanged some things about her.

You learned that she had a “complicated" job that left her restless at night, hence why she was helping out at her friend's café. She was humble to a fault, telling you about her friends and how grateful she is to have the opportunities she has now, too.

It wasn’t long before her manager, a young-looking, friendly woman, greeted you when Chaeyoung opened the car door and the both of you slid in. You’re not good at small talk, but she was a natural at it. It wasn’t long before the conversation flowed freely and you didn’t have to pretend. She made you comfortable.

There was a lull in the air, the only noise being the car’s engine grumbling and the wind whipping by the slightly lowered window. She turned to face you fully, and you shifted in your seat from her gaze. “Do you know who I am?”

You bit your tongue at the question, not expecting it— at least, not this soon. (Was it obvious?) “I do. I mean, I may have seen your face on a few products and billboards.” You pinched at the fabric of your pants, not realizing you were beginning to frown. “Is that okay? I’m not trying to...” Intrude; leach; burden.

She cut your rambling short with a chuckle. “That’s fine,” she assured. “It doesn’t change anything. I want to do this.” It honestly scared her how much she wanted to help you.

She has been warned multiple times about “normal people”.

They’re different, all they see is your fame, you on the stage, what you have and what they don’t.

She has been used because of her kindness, taken advantage of and lied to. Threatened, even. But somehow she knew you weren’t like them. She was acting on a feeling she couldn’t explain.

The feeling she has searched for her whole career, perhaps. She pushed the thought to the back of her brain— it was the least of her worries. Now, she needed to make sure you felt safe.

You expected she stayed at a quality hotel, but just seeing it— such a large, grandice building, was mind blowing. It was nestled between a street lined with high end brands and local restaurants, drawing eyes. Nonetheless, you didn’t feel any envy towards her. You knew she had worked hard to get to this point in life.

You followed closely behind Chaeyoung, the guards at their post by the main entrance, intimating you with their blank expressions and bold stances. They gave her a singular nod as she passed, their eyes lingering on you for a few moments with masked confusion. You smiled wryly, imagining how it must look to others, and readjusted the facemask her manager had given you.

You didn’t want to cause any problems for her.

Chaeyoung was a natural at conversing with people, something you lacked in, greeting the receptionist with a smile and small talk. She had just finished laughing at a joke. “Is there another room available on the same floor as mine?” She asked, glancing at you. You furrowed your brows, confusion reflected in your eyes.

The receptionist clicked around the computer for a moment. “Yes, there is. Are you trying to rent it?”

“I am,” she replied.

“Okay can you state the guest name and residency? Or are you buying it in your name?”

“In my name—“

“No!” You blurt suddenly, coming closer to the counting. You turned to her, shaking your head. “I can…I can pay for it, Chaeyoung. You’ve already done enough for me. I can’t ask you to do anything more.” There was something in your voice, pleading, which caught her off guard. Why were you so against it?

She tilted her head quizzically, her lips pursed together. Oh, she would spoil you. She smiled. “No, I can’t let you do that.”

You were flustered, calculating how much she would have to pay: a whole lot. It was definitely pricey for your current funds, but you didn’t care. You didn’t have to stay long… “But it’s only right—-“

”I want to. So please accept, okay?”

Realizing she wasn’t going to back down, you gave up. (For now). “…You’ll at least let me pay you back after, right?” You really didn’t like owing people.

She pretends to think about it for a moment. “Nope, c’mon.” She grabs the keys from the lady and leads you to the elevator.

The ride was silent, and Chaeyoung didn’t seem bothered by the lack of interaction. On the other hand, she realized you had a lot going through your mind. That much was obvious from your lack of expression.

Once she returned to her suite, she would contact Alice or her family for connections to lawyers. Abuse was a touchy subject, getting you to open up would be difficult…

The suite was luxurious— spacious and lavishly decorated with high-end furniture, plush carpets, and drapery. The living room was furnished with comfortable sofas, armchairs, and a coffee table. The large windows offered breathtaking views of the surrounding city. Further in, the bedroom featured a king-sized bed with premium linens and soft pillows, and the lighting is carefully curated, creating a warm environment. The bathroom had marble floors and walls, a deep soaking tub, and a separate rainfall shower.

You re-entered the living space, completely shook. Wasn’t this too much?

Chaeyoung sat on one of the island chairs, swirling around. “Nice, isn’t it? I recently started booking with this place. They have 24-hour room service and a private chef upon request. There’s also a private lounge, spa, and fitness center— but I hardly have time to use those services anyways...”

“It’s… definitely nice.” You couldn’t begin to imagine the price for one day—

“I’m happy you think so, I want you to be comfortable. Are you hungry?” She was already grabbing her phone as she asked, a pamphlet in her hand.

You shook your head, only to be betrayed by your stomach rumbling. She laughed, and the sound made your heart stutter in your chest without warning. She had a cute smile on her face as she beckoned you over. “Not hungry, hm?” She teased.

“Maybe a little,” You said then, your face heating up slightly due to the embarrassment. She smiled wider, typing in the Suite’s website and clicking on food service.

“What would you like? This place is really famous for their pastas and stews, but they have almost everything here.” She started listing off items, going from the most popular to the lesser popular dishes (they’re all expensive either way). Halfway through the selections you stopped her, finding a simple meal that was the least expensive yet filling.

“Can you add the pho and salad to the order? I’m paying for it. You don’t need to spend more than necessary on me.” A stranger.

She frowned at that. “But I’m treating you, still.”

“I know…but you’ve really done enough for me. I can’t ask for more,” you were adamant.

“You can,” She emphasized. “In fact, I want you to. And I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I was the one who wanted to bring you here, and I have more money than I know what to do with, so let me pay for your things, please. I want to do this, let me take care of you.”

You bit into your tongue, mulling over the situation. You knew at this point she wouldn’t let anything go, she’d just insist, and insist, and insist, coaxing you to comply with her lovely smile, and her kind eyes, and her gentle tone that never fails to have you feeling so warm.

“Okay, fine,” You said, and immediately a smile was pulling at her lips, that cheerful mood she had before coming back as soon as it faded. “On one condition: you at least let me pay for the food— yours too.”

“But—”

“I need to do something useful, Chaeyoung. It’s killing me, so just this once, please.”

“Alright,” she reluctantly agreed, almost hesitant to even let you type in your card for the order. “Just this once, and this time only.”

“Yes, yes, thank you,” You finally smiled.

The hotel staff didn’t take long preparing your orders, which is likely expected of such a fancy place like this. The servers came in with a trolly and placed the meals on the table. It looked and smelt delicious, and you and Chaeyoung ate right away.

Sometime while eating, Chaeyoung called for your attention. “Hey, (Y/n)?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

You paused, bringing the utensil away from your mouth. You took in a breath, steeling your emotions. “No.”

She almost choked. “Can I ask why not?”

At that question you became quiet. Even more so than before. Soulmates— there it is again.

Everyone seems to talk about soulmates; finding their perfect someone, and it seems Chaeyoung is one of them. “I don’t.” You answered, smiling wryly. “A long awaited destiny finding your other half? It’s…it’s really nothing but a fairytale.”

“Oh. Yeah… I guess it’s a little childish.” Once you saw her expression drop more, that look of concern on her face, you glanced away and started stuffing your cheeks with rice again. You shouldn’t feel guilty for opposing the idea— everyone’s entitled to their own options, yet the crestfallen look on her face gave you a pang to your heart. You felt you needed to explain why, and you did.

“No,I didn’t mean it like that… it’s not childish to believe in. I just— I know they’re real; and it’s great if you find yours and you’re happy,” you began, finding it hard to express yourself. “I just think the system isn’t fair.” What you didn’t say, however, is that sometimes it’s a waste of hoping and dreaming. You’re bound to get tired of it, to give up after a while. And giving up hurts the most, because it means accepting you won’t have that happiness.

“I see,” She murmured, given your response. She smiled again, but you could tell it was lacking. “Well, let’s finish eating. The food is getting cold.“

“Right.” You both ate in silence after that. The mood was heavy, filled with awkwardness, uncertainty, and just— something. You didn’t understand why, however. Why is she so caught up on that rare concept? Why does she care if you believe in it or not? You really couldn’t understand her.

Chaeyoung was standing outside the door, returning to her own suite. “I sent you a text from my real number. If you need anything— don’t hesitate to call me, no matter the time. I’m just down the hallway.”

“Okay,” you nodded. Then she left you alone to your own devices.

You decided going to sleep would be the best course of action. You avoided checking your phone, worried that even though you’ve turned off your location they’d still find you.

Just sitting on the king-sized bed made you drowsy, and you were glad Chaeyoung was helping you, because it surely made you feel safer. It wasn’t long before your eyes grew heavy and your breathing evened out, and you were happy to sleep peacefully.

However, it was short lived by rapid-paced banging on the door. Still in the bedroom, you heard the door knob jiggling aggressively, and a few murmured voices. You flinched, immediately reached for your phone to dial a number. It rings twice before she picks up. “Hello? Chaeyoung?” You call anxiously, circling your knees up to your chest as you sit on your bed.

“Yeah?” She answers lightly, her voice evident of sleep, and as much as you’d hate to rip her from her sleep, even if she said she didn’t mind, but you had a problem.

“Someone’s—someone’s banging on my door. I don’t know what to do. What if they get inside? What if it’s my mom? What if they hurt me? I tried calling the security but I got no answer. I’m scared.”

“Okay, okay. Calm down. I’ll be over there right away. Stay in your room for now, okay?” Chaeyoung hurried down the hallway, mindful to not keep you waiting.

In front of your door, a man in a suit slumped against the wall, the hotel staff fussing over him. “Sir, you’re drunk! You’re disturbing our guests, this is not your room. Let us…”

She let out a sigh of relief, knowing the problem wasn’t serious— but still felt tense knowing you weren’t aware of the situation. When the staff got the man off his butt, she knocked on your suite door. “It’s just me. I’m coming in, okay?” With that, she cracked open the door slowly. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw you curled up into a tight ball, crying softly in your bed. Without hesitation, she walked over to the corner of your room where you sat, taking a seat beside you. You leaned back into her arms with a sniffle, looking at her with tears welling up in your eyes. The sight made her want to hold you tighter. “Hey,” she whispered, rubbing your back. “It was just a confused man, he had mistaken the room number.”

“…Really?” You sniffled and pulled away slightly, half-embarrassed you’re relying on her again, half not wanting to leave her arms. She made you feel safe.

“Yes, the staff took care of it right away. I’m sorry you had to experience that…” She was frowning, frustrated it had to be your room, that you were probably scared out of your sleep because of it, and that it might’ve resurfaced some of your trauma. It pulled on her heartstrings seeing you so shaken up and anxious.

“Oh,” you nodded, instantly feeling calmer at the news. “That’s good.”

“It is,” she agreed.

You quietly cleared your throat, realizing the death grip you had on her shirt. Heat spreaded across your nape and face. In front of Chaeyoung, you felt like a middle schooler with a crush all over again. “Thank you,” you mumbled.

“For what?” She asked.

You fiddled with your fingers unconsciously, avoiding her soft gaze. Did she truly not know? “For coming here— for everything.”

Chaeyoung wanted to shake her head and deny it— she did it out of her own violation, afterall, but instead accepted your gratitude. “Of course.”

Something has been on her mind for a while— your presence demanded her full attention; and despite not knowing each other for more than two days, you’ve managed to make her a mess— she felt like she'd do anything for you.

“What’s that on your finger?” She asked, her voice a low murmur. It was a red string, tied into a neat little bow, the other linking end tightly wound around her own finger. Her lips parted in shock, realization donning her features.

“What do you…?” You looked at your finger, only for your words to die in your throat. You stared at the foreign string, heart pounding in your chest and blood rushing in your ears. It couldn’t be.

“You’re my soulmate,” she murmured, sounding so undeniably happy.

“No…” you whispered, shaking your head. It was useless, though, because the evidence was there. You suddenly felt the need to escape Chaeyoung’s embrace— your soulmates embrace. Before you could attempt to get any farther, another step— there were a pair of arms quickly wrapping around you, pulling you against a familiar chest in a tight, tight, tight embrace. It's warm, unyielding, and you were trapped completely— you couldn't get away even if you fought. "Chaeyoung," you started, sucking in shaky breaths, trying to not get drunk by the close proximity. "Y-You said I'm—I'm yours. Your—soulmate?" You get out, half coherent and half blubbering.

She understood you nonetheless, and hummed in acknowledgment, holding you a little bit tighter. "I did," She confirmed. You hadn't even realized that you’d started crying— but you were, and there are hot tears streaming down your cheeks. They're salty, and they're bitter with disappointment, yet above all they're filled with relief.

You’re soulmates, she said.

The rare, one-time chance concept of being a fated pair— having someone in the world that was meant for you and you alone, your complete significant other, where the world pulled you toward them until that bond is broken by choice. It was a lot to process, and it changed just about everything, but—

“I’m here, and we can take this at whatever pace you want. I know it’s hard, very sudden, but… I want this. I want you, if you're willing to accept me.”

…. ⚠️

“You look so beautiful tonight,” Chaeyoung told you, following behind you to your shared bedroom, admiring the way your dress hugged your body. It was a black fitted dress that showed off your shoulders and figure. Your hair was tied up loosely with a pink ribbon.

She changed after the show, wearing something much more comfortable, but still looked amazing.

You flushed, beginning to take your jewelry off at the vanity. “That’s the fifth time you’ve told me that,” you said, a smile present on your face. “But thank you, it makes me really happy. I should say I couldn’t take my eyes off you when you were dancing. It made me….” You trailed off, finding it too bold to confess. Over the course of six months, she’s worked her way into your heart almost effortlessly, supporting and loving you every step of the way. Everyday you're grateful that you were able to meet, even if the way you met wasn’t romantic.

“Made you what?” Rosie stood behind you and rested her hands on your hips. Unable to help herself, she bent down to kiss your exposed neck. You closed your eyes, sighing softly as she kissed the side of your throat. “It’s embarrassing,” you muttered, and she sank her teeth into your skin, causing you to gasp. “Ah— Chaeyoung…”

“Tell me, baby.” Her voice held that tone again, the one that had you shivering under her touch, aching for more.

Knowing you couldn’t convey it through words, you turned around in her arms and wrapped your own around her neck, pressing a soft kiss to her lips as you remembered how she moved to some of their songs’ sensual choreographies and the control she had while doing so. She kissed back, deep and languid. Her palm was hot, sliding over your curves and leaving behind a searing sensation. You broke away from the kiss, your breath coming out ragged as you looked into her eyes, her pupils dilated. “That’s how you make me feel,” you whispered into the little space between you.

She responded by pulling you into another heated kiss. The vibrations of your moans against her mouth made her heart hammer in her chest as she began to lift your dress up slightly, wanting to feel your thighs on her hands again.

Breath hitching roughly in her throat, Chaeyoung felt the tip of your tongue flick at the seam before sliding across its full length. She let you push your tongue past her lips, feeling herself losing herself in the moment, completely surrendering to the sensations coursing through her. (Kissing you seemed to do that to her).

Lips sliding and pressing against each other, tongues touching and tangling, you felt weak in the knees. You squeezed her arm, “Chaeyoung,” you said in between kisses, tugging at her shirt.

She groaned, the breathy sound of her name and the authoritative, low tone coming from you sent tingles rippling down her spine and left her feeling lightheaded.

With one last lingering kiss, she pulled away and led you to the bed by your hand. You laid down first, reaching for her and pulling her towards you. She crawled onto the bed after you, kissing you again. Your fingers played with her hair, combed gently through the locks. “This feels good,” you said quietly, tilting your head for more access, feeling a sense of contentment, desire, and love welling up inside of you. You felt her pause and smile against your skin.

While busying herself with making pretty marks on your neck, her fingers traced along your bare thigh, making you writhe beneath her, and she reveled in how sensitive you were to her touch.

She groaned at the slight tug from your fingers threading themselves in her hair as she continued to kiss your neck. “We can stop anytime...”

"No,” You said almost too quickly, gasping when you felt her bite you lightly, teeth nipping at your neck before a tongue soothed the area. "Please, don't stop.” You were ready to go all the way tonight.

Chaeyoung’s heart could burst out of her chest in that moment, knowing that you were ready for the next step, that between soulmates it would make the bond even stronger. She made her way up and kissed you again, now with a fever and tenderness that had a growing hunger.

Your fingernails dug into her back when she darted her tongue slow and deep across the roof of your mouth— in and out, over and over, in a way that made you instantly imagine her mouth traveling elsewhere. The idea alone got you riled up.

"Chaeyoung, please.." you gasped against her lips as another wave of heat circled through your abdomen and pulsed between your legs.

"We've got time, my love," She slotted a leg between your thighs, pressing against your center purposefully. “I'm all yours tonight." Her hand slipped between your bodies, hiking up your mini-dress just enough for her to have access to your lace panties.

You gasped and tightened your grip in her hair, subconsciously bucking your hips the moment her fingers brushed across your center. A wave of pleasure overtook your body, and you could feel her edging to dip her fingers lower. It wasn’t long before she felt how soaked you were, how wet she made you, forcing a stifled moan from her throat that vibrated against your lips. You whimpered, tightening your thighs around her hand at the sound.

Knowing what you needed, she quickly discarded your underwear, and dipped a finger in you, making you shudder and squirm. Giving you a few moments to adjust, she watched your face for any signs of discomfort before pumping in and out. You lifted your hips off the bed to meet her pace, her finger reaching deeper with each slow, tantalizing pump.

You could barely think straight with how intense everything suddenly became, and it only intensified as she added a second finger, pumping faster. There was a coil building in your stomach, moments away from snapping. “Chaeyoung— I’m gonna—” You panted heavily, your face burning, eyes closed tightly. With every stroke, your walls contracted tightly around her finger, making her curse under her breath. "Fuck, love. You're so tight... Are you close?”

You nodded against her shoulder frantically, nails digging into her back.

“Then come for me,” she murmured, adding her thumb in the mix to push you over the edge, her fingers relentless, as you arched forward, the pressure in your lower stomach building to such an extent you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your whole body trembled, incoherent words and moans leaving your mouth, your entire body shaking as an orgasm ripped through you.

All the while Chaeyoung slowed the pace, your body writhing underneath her hand as she pumped in and out, her fingers gliding across your sensitive spot as she watched you come apart for her, helping you ride it out. She felt breathless, and absolutely loved seeing you like that; all flushed and sweaty, needy for her. You're her Angel— her soulmate.

She kissed you, slow and sweet. “There, love. I’ve got you,” she cooed softly. “I love you, you did so well.”

You reached up, cupping her cheeks, loving the way your soulmate looked at you. “Just give me a moment,” you said, smiling. “It’ll be your turn next.”

#biscuitblinkeu #blackpink x reader #fanfic #blackpink #fem reader #rosé x reader #rosé x fem!reader #park chaeyoung x reader #park chaeyoung x fem!reader #biscuitrequest

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loveandmurders · 9 months

Note

So I read your 'What Soulmate AU for which slasher?'

And I was wondering if you could write a story for Billy Loomis?

On your wrist: "You gonna die tonight, love"

On their wrist: "And fuck, of course my soulmate is a serial killer"

Hello love and THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST!!!! Gosh, I've been so excited to write for it, so I hope you'll enjoy it very much <3

Request based on this post.

GHOSTFACE IS MY SOULMATE (Billy Loomis x female reader)

Warnings: no proof reading, morally grey reader, mentions of sexual desire, mentions of killing, Billy plans on killing you, a few strong words.

You were on your own that night. Your parents were out for a little dinner together; they were celebrating their wedding anniversary. You didn’t mind having the house all to yourself for once. You had cooked some noodles, as you were too lazy to do more, and you were distractedly watching TV. Actually, you were barely listening to whatever that was happening on the screen, as your eyes were on your wrist. Your fingers were tracing the words on your skin. Your family and friends always tease you for the first sentence your soulmate would ever say to you: You’re gonna die tonight, love.

And you had to admit, you didn’t really get it.

Everyone had some “normal” stuff such as “Hey, my name is” or “Hey, I love your dress” or “It’s been a while I wanted to ask you out”. But no, you apparently couldn’t do the boring stuff and you had to have something about love and death. You weren’t too sure if it was a threat to be honest. It could be a sentence said during halloween for instance, or during a horror convention. You loved horror movies, so your family thought that you were gonna meet a guy or a girl or someone doing some slasher cosplay. You wanted to believe that too. It would be too strange for your soulmate to actually want to kill you, right?

Plus you didn’t really see yourself like the kind of person who could attract serial killers; you weren't Sidney Prescott. You weren’t attracting troubles usually. In fact, your love for horror movies and gruesome stories had always surprised your relatives, because you seemed too sweet to enjoy that kind of thing.

You continued to stare at your wrist. Alright, your soulmate must also like horror stuff and probably enjoyed cosplays. It sounded like a fun soulmate, right? And the nickname showed that they were quite flirtatious. It sounded even better!

You sighed as you stroked the “tonight” word. You couldn’t count all the time you hoped it would indeed be that night. So many of your friends had already met their mates, and even your parents found each other before your age. You started to worry. Of course, you still had a lot of time and some of your friends didn’t even have one word on their skin because their soulmate died before they met. You thought you were lucky that yours was still around, but you were getting impatient. Your parents told you you should date people even if they weren’t your soulmate, but it felt strange for you. You only wanted them, and no one else. It felt too wrong to kiss someone who wasn’t meant for you. Maybe you were too loyal and romantic.

You sighed once again, nibbling on your food. You tried to focus on the TV, so you would stop thinking about your soulmate. You relaxed a little and you told yourself that you needed to be patient, that one day you would find them and everything would be soft and happy. You grabbed the TV remote and you tried to find something good to watch. What was good when your parents weren’t home or close by was that you could watch whatever you wanted… Including very bloody and violent movies. You had always tried to play it cool about your love for horror movies and especially about slashers, but deep down, nothing was making you hornier than a big killer destroying life for the sake of it.

If you were really honest with yourself, you would admit you were a little bit jealous of the attention Sidney got from Ghostface. Of course, you knew you shouldn’t think something like that. But it sounded very hot. Such a pity you weren’t interesting enough for a killer, because you would love to be called in the middle of the night and threatened by a dangerous murderer...

Damn, you really hoped your soulmate would understand something like that and wouldn’t think you were a weirdo. You tried to remind yourself that your mate couldn’t think something like that, because they would love all of you, even the darkest part of yourself.

You were wondering what Sidney had you didn’t though. You were sighing once again when the house phone rang and you jumped in surprise. You thought your mother was checking on you or that one of your friends wanted to chat around. Your mouth was full with noodles but you still took the phone, not saying a word while you were chewing. You waited for the person to talk, and you had to admit that you had the strange sensation of having eyes on you. It was a little bit unsettling, but you were probably getting paranoid because of your obsession and because of the local news constantly talking about Ghostface. You heard someone heavily breathing into the phone and you felt goosebumps spreading all over your skin. The sound was ominous and for an instant you had the sensation of being in one of your favourite horror movies. You swallowed your food and continued to wait for the person to speak. Your heart was beating so fast, as if you knew something was going to happen.

“You’re gonna die tonight, love” the stranger finally said and you rolled your eyes, almost face palming yourself.

“And fuck, of course my soulmate is a serial killer” you grumbled. There was a moment of silence after that. “Hey, you’re still there?” you asked

“You’re really messing my plans up, you know that I hope” the killer you guessed was Ghostface grumpily said

“Well, sorry about that… You can still kill me though” you teased. Truth to be told, knowing that your soulmate was a serial killer was making things a lot easier for you; you wouldn’t need to hide your liking for dangerous people at all. Fate was doing things well sometimes.

“I really should because you’ve always been a pain; did you really need to call me a “serial killer” in your first words to me? Always had to hide my wrist because of that.” they continued to argue and you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a little giggle

“Well if you were behaving, I wouldn’t have said that!” you hummed, finding the situation very funny

“You are enjoying yourself way too much, Y/N” Ghostface commented, but you could hear a slight hint of amusement in their voice.

“Maybe.” you smiled “Are you around then?” you asked as you started to look around yourself, trying to find from where the eyes were looking at you

“I am. But I need to find someone else to kill now.” they replied

“Oh, really?” you sounded disappointed “I mean, I’m glad you won’t kill me, but I thought we could meet in person right now?” you asked. You had waited for this moment your whole life, so you weren’t too eager to let them go that easily. Ghostface chuckled.

“So impatient. Don’t worry, love, I’ll be back. Let your room window open and I’ll meet you there in a little while.” they told you

“Promise?” you asked, a little bit worried they were going to disappear from your life now you just found them

“Promise.” they hummed before hanging up

You were on your bed, impatiently waiting for your serial killer. You were trying to read but you couldn’t focus on the words laying in front of your eyes. You parents weren’t back home yet, and you hoped Ghostface was going to show up before they could interrupt anything.

You heard a sound against your wall so you sat up, your heart beating so quickly once more. You nibbled on your bottom lip as you nervously played with your fingers. You had to admit that when the infamous Billy Loomis appeared at your window, you couldn’t believe it. You sat at the edge of your bed as he entered the room before leaning against the wall, the head tilted to the side. You watched each other in silence. Your heart calmed down now you were in the same room, and you could feel the bonds linking the two of you growing and becoming even stronger. You had always found Billy particularly hot, but a lot of people in school thought the same, and he knew it. You couldn’t have thought that the man was actually your soulmate. He finally softly smiled at you.

“Staying silent and not being all over me already? That’s good. You would have annoyed me otherwise” he said and you arched an eyebrow at him

“I knew that popularity was making people become assholes,” you teased and he laughed. He was liking you already. You were truly perfect. He had always thought that his soulmate would be afraid of him, or would be a problem in his masterplan, especially when the words on his wrists seemed to mean you knew the truth about him. But he shouldn’t have worried about it.

“You won’t call the police on me?” he asked you, just to make sure. You quickly shook your head.

“Of course not” you replied seriously this time “You’re my soulmate, I wouldn’t do something like that to you. I don’t mind you’re a killer. Actually, I’m not very surprised” you admitted and he smirked

“Yeah, I’ve noticed your little doodles about slashers in class. That’s why I picked you as my next target. I thought I could have some fun with you.” he told you

“You can still have some fun with me… Just a different kind of fun” you winked and he came closer to you, looking like a predator. He cupped your chin to make you look up at him.

“Already playing with fire, love” he hummed, his eyes were so dark and helding all kinds of promises “Maybe you shouldn’t trust me that easily. I was planning on killing you after all” he continued

“Key word: “was”, love” you smiled as you leaned into his touch. His fingers against your skin were sending electricity down your whole body.

“Touché” he hummed and leaned so your lips were brushing against his. You boldly cupped his face and brought him even closer, so your mouth crashed onto his. He passionately answered your kiss and he made you lay down on the bed as he topped over you. He let you catch your breath for a second before leaning for another kiss. His touch was absolutely intoxicating and you just couldn’t get enough of him. You wrapped your legs around his waist and you heard him moan against your lips. He seemed to want you as badly as you wanted him. His hands were already freely roaming your body as you tried to press yourself impossibly closer to him.

“Are you gonna make out with me like that at school too?” you couldn’t help to ask, half teasing half serious

“Always” he groaned, clearly in need for more of you

“Thought you were with Sidney” you asked

“Shh, don’t worry, she’s soon to be dead anyways” he replied. His fingers were already under your top.

But you both stilled when you heard the front door being open and your mother calling your name.

“Shit” you mumbled with a pout on your lips. You had forgotten about your parents. Billy stroked your cheek and tried to calm down.

“Go downstairs. Spend some time with them. I’ll wait for them to go to bed to join you once again. You won’t get rid of me that easily” he darkly promised

“Oh yeah?” you teased, but deep down you were so relieved the man didn’t want to leave and was eager to spend as much time as possible with you. “You don’t have anything better to do?” you asked with a little smile.

“You need to make up for disturbing my plans, love” he teased back

“Y/N? You’re upstairs?” your father called for you

“Go, now, I’ll make up to you all you want tonight” you winked at him as you gently pushed him away from you, no matter how awful it felt.

“Promise?” he hummed, already knowing the answer

“Promise, my serial killer” you smiled. He stole another kiss from you before leaving your room.

Hopefully Sidney was going to be dead very soon so your boyfriend would be able to solely focus on you, you thought as you went downstairs, a smile on your face.

“How was your evening, mom, dad? Mine was really great” you said

“Ah yes?” your mother smiled at you, waiting for you to elaborate

“I think I’m in love” you hummed, your head full of love, death, kisses and chaos.

#scream x reader #scream imagine #billy loomis x y/n #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x you #billy loomis x s/o #ghostface x you #ghostface x reader #ghostface x y/n #ghostface x s/o #billy loomis imagine #ghostface imagine #slasher x s/o #slasher x you #slasher x reader #slasher x y/n

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your-regular-toast-enjoyer · 1 year

Note

hey! can i ask for yandere jon kent in a soulmate au setting, where he finds his soulmate in a normal civilian, who seems to be easily charmed by his boyish charm, at least at first

Soulmate! Yandere! Jon Kent x Reader

Jon Kent x reader or Jon Kent/reader

Yandere!Jon Kent x reader or Yandere Jon Kent x Reader

Word count: 4719 words

TW: GN reader, Yandere, stalking, imprisonment, adult Jon Kent, obsession. Other than that, there's no s*x or anything of the like.

Let us say that it’s one of those soulmate AUs where you have your soulmate’s name written somewhere on your body. You would have “Jonathan Samuel Kent” wrapped around your wrists like a natural and skin-deep bracelet. Your name is stapled up Jon’s arms, boxy and impersonal letters pressed under his skin, yet he has traced each letter with a sense of reverence ever since he was a little kid, dreaming of when he would finally get to meet you.

Clark was probably a yandere for Lois as well, (he seems like the type), and she was more than happy to indulge him, likely having some of the tendencies too. I can imagine them being attached at the hip whenever they’re at home, never being found alone in a room. Jon probably once wondered if they actually were tied together by an invincible ribbon. It seemed improbable that the two of them were never separated except when Clark was out as Superman. They were together all the time, even at work, both working at The Daily Planet. This was probably how Jon developed his unhealthy love tendencies. He has always adored both of his parents, finding their relationship flawless. The idea of having something like that himself was a thought that he would fall asleep at night dreaming about. His parents’ unhealthy tendencies sowed the seed of disturbing obsession within him.

As a kid, Jon loved writing your name in his school books, every page filled with his rounded letters spelling out “Y/n”. Some of his teachers had been concerned about his seeming obsession with your name and existence; It was normal for kids to be intrigued by the letters stretching out somewhere on their skin, but not to the overly passionate extent of Jon. When this was brought up to Jon’s parents, they simply waved it off. Jon was a good kid, so what if he was a bit obsessed with the name on his arms? They saw nothing wrong with it. As a matter of fact, Clark had been the exact same, and Lois too, although to a lesser degree than her husband. Thus Jon was allowed to let his fixation run wild.

As Jon got older, joined high school and started working together with Damian, he kept looking for you. He had Googled your full name at least a million times without luck. It stung every time, but he refused to stop.

Every time he saved someone around his age, while out patrolling the streets as Superboy, he’d carefully ask their name, hoping for yours to slip from their tongue… it never did. Damian teased him, finding his desperate attempts at finding you pathetic. “I just don’t wanna miss ‘em!” The blue-eyed teen would argue back, frustrated by your elusiveness.

If Jon was honest with himself, he had hoped for a high school-sweetheart type of romance, but as he became eighteen and left secondary education, that dream was dashed. Jon’s next dream was that the two of you would attend the same university. He even took a year off under the guise of helping his father at the farm, in reality, it was so he could search for you and attempt to see if you went to any of the nearby universities. He wanted to up your chances of meeting each other.

After high school, Jon was slowly dragged down by the idea that the two of you would never cross paths and that he’d forever have to resign his fate to someone else. There were those whose soulmates died before they ever met or those who didn’t meet their soulmates until they had already fallen in love and made a family with someone else. It was rare, most preferring to wait for the one whose name was written on their skin… but “rare” did not mean impossible. Clark tried his best to cheer up Jon, but no matter what he said, the young man couldn’t help the feeling that he was doomed.

It was ironically when he stopped looking for you, and started his education at Metropolis university, that you appeared in his life. Damian was the one to introduce the two of you. The green-eyed man had met you at Gotham university where you shared a class. The two of you had gotten along surprisingly well, to the point that Damian considered you a close friend. You were neither from Gotham nor Metropolis, as a matter of fact, you might’ve even been from a completely different country. This explained why Jon had never been able to find you, he had always assumed that you only lived a few streets away from him, when in reality you had lived your entire life in a completely different city, never even being near him, until the day Damian invited both of you to the manor.

When Jon had first shaken hands with you, he had thought nothing special of you. He was impressed that Damian was able to keep you around, and he thought that you seemed pretty cool but other than that you were simply one of Damian’s civilian friends. It wasn’t until he ended up introducing himself and asking for your name that he was rendered frozen. As soon as the words left your mouth, Jon had to excuse himself, it was almost comical how he had waited for this moment his entire life, yet when it finally arrived, he ran away from it.

It didn’t take him long to return, his demeanour entirely changed. What had previously been charming, albeit shy, smile on his lips had now turned into an almost scarily fixed mien. Had you not known better, you’d have thought that Jon had gotten a Glasgow smile carved into his round cheeks by the Joker himself. As the hangout progressed and the day turned to evening, you started to distance yourself from Jon, almost clambering to be close to Damian at all times. The way Jon stared into your eyes reminded you of the way a predator gazed at its prey. He seemed ready to pounce at any moment, and you didn’t want to be in his line of sight when it happened.

Jon was oblivious to the discomfort he was causing you, instead staring enviously at how you practically hung off Damian’s arm. It made him consider whether the two of you were really “just friends”, or whether the two of you were engaging in, (what was to him), dissident behaviour. “Cheating” on your soulmates by being in an intimate relationship with each other. You weren’t. But the more Jon scared you, the closer you kept to Damian, and the closer you kept to Damian, the more intense Jon’s staring became. It was a vicious cycle and by the time you were meant to go home, you were deadly afraid that Jon would follow.

Damian had, of course, picked up on both Jon’s unusual behaviour and your poorly hidden fright. So, when it was time that both you and Jon had to leave, Damian offered to walk you home, an offer you were relieved to accept. Jon didn’t like it though, offering to walk you home himself, since he was going anyways, but both you and Damian shot down the idea with obvious hostility. Jon was convinced something was going on, entirely unaware of how bizarre he had been since he heard your name.

Damian more or less ordered Jon to go home before you, Jon was aware that he couldn’t outright challenge Damian’s command, it was his home, after all. However, he refused to just let you leave with Damian…Alone. No! What if you guys did something while he wasn’t there, like holding hands or…or… Kissing! NO! Jon refused! So, as soon as he had said goodbye to both of you, he floated, (as quietly as he could), up to the roof of the manor, avoiding the sensors that Damian had once shown him and then he settled into a crouch, the soles of his converse being held to the slippery tiles with the help of his super-human levitation.

It didn’t take long for you and Damian to exit the manor, slowly making your way to the Wayne garage. At first, Jon was confused, weren’t you guys going to your place? It made him nervous about what you two could be planning on doing when no one else was there, yet his fears seemed unfounded as Damian’s expensive black car soon rolled out. Oh! He was driving you! Now it all made sense in Jon’s mind! Jon didn’t have a car! …There really was no need when he could fly… But, of course, Damian couldn’t risk Jon showing his powers either by flying you or if he had to protect the two of you if you’d get mugged… which was almost a certainty in Gotham, if you were stupid enough to walk at night. Obviously! Why hadn’t Jon thought of that! …Well because that really hadn’t been on the top of Damian’s mind either when he refused to let the Kryptonian walk you home, but Jon didn’t even begin to suspect any other motive.

Following the car, Jon was able to learn where you lived and, oh boy… He wasn’t happy. You lived in an average Gotham university dorm, which was, to put it mildly…lacking. Jon considered it once, letting his baby blue eyes scan the building, and he already found no less than five fire hazards and was sure that if he blew a little too hard on it, all the windows would explode. How could Damian have let you live like this?! Jon sure as heck wouldn’t, at least not for long.

Jon knew that he couldn’t just kidnap you, or “Bring you home”, as he put it. That’d be unusually cruel, and he was lucid enough to realise that you didn’t know him well enough to just accept your destined love outright, but that was okay, he had waited his entire life for you, he could wait a little more. So, he drew up a plan on how to get you to love him. He would watch over you and occasionally strike when the time was right, bumping into you on the street, seeing you in the library etc. Even better, by watching over you he would be able to find out all the topics you were interested in and research them, it would be perfect, he surmised. You two would have so much to talk about!

You would officially meet for the second time one day when you were walking home from the supermarket, clutching a heavy plastic bag filled with the cheap food that most college students buy. You were in your own world, maybe you were listening to music or maybe you were just enjoying the rare Gotham sun, what exactly you were doing doesn’t really matter. Suddenly, the arm of a stranger was slung around your shoulders, dragging you closer to their body. You almost screamed, but then Jon announced his presence with a loud, “Hey! Haven’t seen you since we were at Damian’s!”... An effortless lie.

At first, his sudden appearance frightened you and with your last meeting going horrendously, you were on edge. Still, as Jon started to talk more it became hard for you to keep up your guard. He wasn’t smiling like a creep anymore, rather his face had become the epitome of friendliness, you had no idea what had changed. But Jon did… After your last meeting, Damian confronted Jon about his behaviour and while the blue-eyed man had ignored his friend for the most part, internally accusing him of just wanting to steal Jon’s soulmate for himself, he did catch on to one thing. “Your psycho smile creeped them out!”... So his smile had been the problem, Jon considered.

As the two of you walked together towards wherever you were headed, you started to warm up to the alien. His southern drawl was cute and quite honestly, his deep interest in you was a refreshing departure from Damian’s tendency to only speak of himself. When the two of you parted you almost wished he would’ve continued staying with you. Still, you held your reserve up, he had been super weird the last time you met…

While you were still sceptical of Jon, that scepticism slowly melted like an iceberg on a hot summer day, drop by drop, as the two of you began to bump into each other more and more. You never considered why Jon was in Gotham so much when he lived near Metropolis, (a fairly long journey to take daily), yet you did find it rather odd that your paths always crossed, even when you changed up your regular schedule. The thought of him following you never crossed your mind, that’s a ludicrous thing to accuse someone of, let alone think about just based on stumbling into a guy pretty often.

It didn’t take too long for Jon to win you over with his bright smile, deep interest in you and boyish charm. That was a good thing too because Jon had started to miss out on quite a few college classes of his own, to the point where Clark had noticed and sat him down to talk about it. Now, while many other parents…Most parents… would tell their child to kindly stop stalking their soulmate, Clark and ostensibly Lois were not, in fact, normal parents. Rather than discouraging their son’s creepy and downright illegal behaviour, they were understanding of his obsession with you, and even ecstatic that their son had finally found his soulmate. You were technically their soulmate-in-law, so maybe the two of them would develop an obsession as well, less so than Jon, of course, they were more focused on each other, but enough to let their son explain all your likes and dislikes down to the most minuscule of details and let him do what he needed to do, just to get you into their metaphorical and literal arms.

Jon would do everything to build up a friendship with you, likely keeping it a secret from Damian, and excusing his previously creepy behaviour as him just having an off day. Damian would be none the wiser of his devious plans, and even if you told the green-eyed man that you had met his friend many…many… times, it would rouse very little suspicion. Jon was Damian’s dearest friend, he trusted him with his life! He didn’t even suspect the darkness that Jon harboured for his soulmate.

Maybe as your friendship with Jon progressed, he’d invite you to stay at his family’s home for a few days, and meet his parents and grandparents, it’s a long travel for non-flying people, but he was more than happy to take it with you. You would probably be good enough friends with him at this point to not feel threatened as the two of you boarded the bullet train running between Gotham and the Metropolis area. Jon wasn’t planning on kidnapping you on this trip, no, this was meant to get you used to the place, to his family and the cows and chickens. Like a frog in a bowl of water with ever-increasing temperatures. “Slow and steady wins the race”, that’s what his grandfather, Johnathan Kent, his namesake, had told him many times as a kid and he took it to heart.

You would have had an absolutely lovely time at the Kents’ home, everyone, especially Jon and his parents, were borderline obsessed with making you feel welcome. Martha would bake your favourite treats, (probably write your name on them in icing, as well). Jonathan senior would tell you about all of Jon’s embarrassing moments as a child, especially relating to how he used to pretend-spar with the cows, only to fall in the hay…or manure, when he couldn't keep his balance. Lois and Clark were always excited to talk to you… about you. Talking to them felt like talking to a twin-headed Jon, sweet, energetic…yet as the days passed and they still managed to find new questions about the most niche of subjects pertaining to you, you started to feel like you were being interrogated for an autobiography. Jon, himself, would've probably taught you how to handle farm animals, and taken you to whatever local attractions there might've been.

Now, Jon had originally been surprised when you didn’t recognise his name the first time you met, even more so the many following times. He was concerned, scared even, that you might not be the right Y/N, but one day as he was stalking watching over you, he spotted his own name right at the end of your sweater sleeve, but you didn’t even pay attention to it… Not like him, not in the way he almost got goosebumps the moment his fingers grazed the tattoo-like letters of your name. Could it be…No! He refused to believe it! Were you one of those people who simply didn’t care for soul mates?! No! No! No! That couldn’t be! That was so unfair!

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and Jon decided that you two had been away from each other for too long, that, really, the universe meant for you two to end up together sooner or later, and you were already on the later part. He refused to be without his other half any longer, especially if there was a threat that you’d find another.

Your stay at the Kents’ solidified Jon’s belief that you had to move in with him as fast as possible, preferably on the family farm, where it would be harder for you to get hurt… or escape. There is just one thorn in his side that he can’t account for, Damian.

Damian was tricky for Jon to account for. You were, as much as Jon dreaded it, also Damian’s friend, and the green-eyed man was known for being fiercely protective and loyal to all of his friends. Ready to lay down his head for them. He could take up a physical fight with Damian, sure, but as his father and Batman had proven time and time again, a little Kryptonium was all that it’d take for a Super to fall in a heap of aching limbs. No, he had to play it smart, problem was that no matter how hard Jon could stretch his intelligence, Damian would always be more intelligent than him. The only way to get you for himself would be to make Damian agree that you’d be better off with Jon than on your own…But how?

Well, Jon could only really come up with one answer to that question… By making you live in a constant state of danger… And if he had to put you in danger himself, so be it. His “master plan” was to reveal his hero identity to you, not just that, but further reveal your connection to Superboy. Now, that might sound like a stupid idea at first, but its simplicity yet effectiveness was brilliant. By revealing your connection to the vigilante world, you would basically be walking around with a target on your back. He would know! That was how his mother had lived ever since his father revealed his secret identity as Superman. Being a civilian openly affiliated with a hero was one of, if not the, most dangerous thing that could happen to someone. The only reason his mother could feel safe was that Clark rarely left her side, but if Jon wasn’t with you to protect you most of the time… you’d be in monumental danger.

So, he set his plan in motion. First, he invited both you and Damian to his home one weekend, stressing how “This is really important”. Both you and Damian showed up, concerned for Jon’s well-being and entirely blank on what might’ve been going on. “Maybe he’s coming out of the closet? Or he named two cows after us? Maybe his dog ran away? last time that happened we were thirty people out looking for it” Damian joked, a thing he only ever did when he felt the need to calm someone else down, you, in this case.

But no matter what you and Damian could’ve guessed Jon’s intentions to be, neither of you expected him to come floating down from his roof, fully dressed as Superboy, arms on either side of his hips as he landed close enough for the tip of his nose to touch yours briefly. “I’m Superboy”.

When Damian saw this theatrical and obviously pre-planned reveal, he did not only want to facepalm at the second-hand embarrassment he felt from it, but he also wanted to strangle Jon. Didn’t he know how dangerous revealing their secret identities could be?! Not just to them, but also to you! … Well, of course, he did, that was the whole point, but Damian couldn’t have known that.

The green-eyed man was seething, face red in a fiery rage, while you stood gelid. Jon was Superboy? No way… Right? But he did just fly down from his roof, so clearly he wasn’t lying. Your brain couldn’t quite compute what was happening, and Jon took this opportunity to stare Damian down, implying that he too should reveal his identity. The more of them you knew, the higher the danger. But if Damian asked for Jon’s intentions, he would claim a moral obligation to not lie-by-omission to his friends.

Damian did end up fessing up as well about his secret identity as Robin and you were thrown for yet another loop. You might’ve been the type to get angry that they didn’t tell you sooner, offended that they clearly didn’t trust you enough. Or you could be the type to ask questions, interested in their secret life. You could also be a sceptic, not so much doubting if they were telling the truth, Jon floating a head’s-width off the ground pretty much proved that part, but rather interrogating them on why they felt the need to tell you and why now.

Whichever reaction you had, you would be driven home that evening by Damian, in silence. He didn’t feel the need to explain why he wasn’t planning on revealing that he was Robin to you, rather, he was afraid of your safety being jeopardised if Jon wasn’t careful… Jon wasn’t planning to be.

It would be less than a week after that Jon sought you out as Superboy, maybe he tackled you into a hug while you were walking the streets, or he’d float into your university cafeteria with lunch, freshly made by Grandma Martha… Really, he was not subtle and Damian could’ve ripped his throat out the first time Jon pulled one of his stunts.

When Batman caught wind of Superboy being openly linked to a civilian, he first went to Clark, who shrugged Bruce’s criticism of Jon off. “So what! I’m open with my affections towards Lois as well!” Bruce would correctly point out that that’s why Lois was constantly getting kidnapped, tied up and having various other misdeeds done to her. Clark would tell Bruce to get off his case, but in true Bruce fashion, he’d refuse. “Y/n is in Gotham, that is my city. Whatever happens to them is my problem, either they move to the larger Metropolis area and become your responsibility or Superboy will have to stop his mindless chasing of them.”

Armed with Batman’s orders, Jon divulged to you that you’re no longer safe in Gotham and that Batman wanted you out. That was quite a verdict, even more so since you were not a native Gothamite. You might have felt inclined to cry or even just felt frustrated, but Jon was there with another offer, “Why don’t you move to Metropolis university! They have comparable programs and you can live with my family for free!”

… It’s not that you wanted to accept Jon’s offer, but what other choice did you have. You questioned Damian about his opinion and he agreed that it’d be safer for you in Metropolis, no matter how much it pained him to see you go. With your friend’s verdict, there really was no other option than moving. Bruce and Damian might’ve helped you transfer to Metropolis University, not only were they well respected in all academic circles, but they were also paying the costs, calling it a charity case, they might’ve even used it to write off some taxes.

With the finalisation of your moving process, Jon finally had you in his claws. That’s when he pulled out the fact that he was your soulmate. He practically shoved his arm in your face one morning, demanding that you love him. Tears were on full display, tumbling down his round cheeks when you didn’t immediately respond. “Why won’t you love me?! I’ve done so much for you!”... Ah yes! Emotional manipulation at its finest.

If you already knew that you were soulmates, but simply ignored it… Oh boy… Jon was livid! How dare you?! After all this time of him pinning and loving you! You just discarded his emotional need for your affection like it was a shite beneath your boot! How selfish could you be?! He only had one soulmate, why would you try to deprive him of the experience of true love! He would be delirious, and somehow manage to convince himself that you had in fact loved him all along, but been unsure if he’d love you back… yes! That had to be it! He’d toss you into his bedroom and lock the door, you weren’t getting out until you accepted his love… By “accepting his love”, he obviously meant, “agree to marry him”. Yeah, if you had just ignored you guys’ soulmate status, the rest of your life will be a living h*ll.

On the other hand, if you didn’t know or had been unsure whether or not it truly was him. He’d be understanding, that’s what happens! The most important thing was that you’re together now! You’d love him forever, right? That was all that ever mattered! It was your duty as soulmates, after all, to love and cherish the other one for years to come! If you don’t accept your love, may I refer you to the previous section, however, if you do accept it, he’d kiss you, deeply, and offer to fly you around Metropolis? Don’t worry if you’re afraid of heights, he’d hold onto you and never let go.

Whether you love him or not, it would be best to at least pretend to do so. Jon is sensitive and he doesn’t take well to rejection. His emotions are volatile and what might’ve earned you a plunging pouty face one day, might result in you getting locked in his room on another one. He’d get married as fast as possible, mostly to ensure that no one else would attempt to get with you… especially Damian. He’s jealous, and as soon as you’re both done with university, he’d beg you to stay at home at the farm and just wait until he gets home, you don’t even have to clean or cook, he’ll do that if you don’t want to, just stay home, that’s where you’re the safest, especially when Clark and Lois retire. Jon would love for you four to all live together, that way he’s extra sure that you’ll be safe.

So in conclusion… Jon as a yandere in a soulmate setting? Absolutely a health hazard. He’s horrifying, suffocating, delirious, clingy, emotional and worst of all: Absolutely. Bloody. Obsessed. He will never let you leave him, and if you’re willing and able to, he’ll make sure that you’ll have at least one biological kid, if not he’ll adopt one, with or without your permission. Just because he values family above all others. (In his mind, you were part of his family the second your name stapled its way up his arm). Clark and Lois would also aid in the absolute suffocation of obsessive love and almost worshipping of your very being which Jon participates in. Their love is like tar, you’ll slowly get dragged under and suffocated, no matter how much you try to get out. Their devotion, (and arms), stick to you like the viscous black droplets of tarmac, and you’ll have no escape. Not even Damian could drag you out once you’re submerged.

A/N: Yes, you can just ignore this, it's mostly for the user who sent in the request.

Thank you for this idea! I hope you like what I did with it! I'm SO sorry that it took so long to get out! But I've been dealing with a bunch of exams and important papers, (to all the IB students out there...IAs! Am I right?!)... No, but in all seriousness, I'm not dead nor did I quit writing, but I have my finals in less than 3 months, and I need to study, so I can't promise that my upload schedule will be particularly consistent or frequent in that period of time, but I'll be back up and running as soon as those bloody exams are over... Wish me luck! Anyways! I hope you like this!

#jon kent x reader #yandere jon kent #yandere x reader #dc x reader #yandere jon kent x reader #jon kent #yandere dc #yandere dc x reader

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magicalrocketships · 10 months

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ok im ready to be converted. what f1 fics do u recommend to start my full brain rot?

EXCELLENT, my plan is working (make people like what I like). Here is a very small and somewhat random selection, mostly Daniel/Max except where stated. Extremely loosely grouped. I've said if they're focused on them racing (grid), even if it's an AU. I have not associated anyone's ao3 handle with their tumblr name, so apologies for that. Do come back and tell me your thoughts and feelings. (!!)

F1 TASTING MENU (Maxiel Flavour)

Amuse Bouche: an opening vid

maxiel x 2022 season - “i would just draw it at like, i wouldn’t say love” by @daniel-enchante

Starters (shorter (ish) fics)

Cool Things to Say to Your Soulmate - words by powerfulowl, art by loveleah (grid, E): Only dumbasses get goosed. If a Soulmate Goose of Enforcement comes to intervene in your love life, it is a clear sign you have fucked up. You’re so bad at navigating human relationships that the universe thinks a violent waterfowl impervious to damage and capable of walking through walls will actually improve the situation.

i carry your heart with me by capsize (grid, M): “What’s up little guy?” Daniel asks – because like his car, Max’s heart is a boy too – and moves the heart from the desk into his lap. “Is Max not paying attention to you? He can be a bit of a cunt, yeah? No, I know.” Or, five times someone found Max’s heart, and one time they kept it.

Just kissed you hello by charlotte_stant (grid, M): Everything freezes for a long moment—and then Daniel’s heart is back to beating and it’s fine, he can see how funny the situation is. “Maximus, my brother, my comrade,” he says, “what the fuck, mate. I’m not gay, ok?"

Amuse Bouche: another vid

max and daniel at redbull by @love-leah

Main Course (longer fics)

Good To You by TheNorthRemembers (grid, E): Max walks and talks like he has a big dick. He always has, and it’s not like Daniel ever really thought about Max’s dick, but he just- He assumed, maybe. That the equipment would match the attitude. That at the very least what Max is packing, would be completely average. The fact, that apparently it’s not- Well. Daniel doesn’t know what to do with that information, in more ways than one. Or: Max a small dick, Daniel is into it; lots of sex and a bit of angst ensue

my kind's your kind by hardlythewiser (grid, series, E, Max/Kelly/Daniel, resolving with Max/Daniel): Max can talk about it now, out of bed, casual. Kelly helped him practice, talking about it like it was just another activity, like her tennis lessons or nights out with friends, ever since that first time. But she doesn't say anything now.

To the Victor Belong the Spoils by powerfulowl (hunger games AU, E): Daniel didn’t kill anyone in the arena. He’s the one untarnished Hunger Games victor. The beautiful boy who stole the hearts of Panem with a fishing net and a smile. He can kiss babies and sell sun cream and fuck who they tell him to fuck and suck on the fingers that feed him– he’s not gonna bite. But then Max wins the Hunger Games. Max bites.

Amuse Bouche: vid time

"what's going on between you and max verstappen?" by @love-leah

Dessert (where the focus is on sex)

Sweeter than I ever knew by purples_all_the_way_down (grid, girls, E): Daniel has never had an orgasm. Somehow (Charles, it's always Charles), Max gets involved. Things get complicated.

I just want to know you like nobody ever has by 33Max (grid, E): They are in the bathroom, Daniel had insisted that he needed a shower if they were going to do this. He’s still damp, Max hadn’t even waited for him to dry himself off before he was pushing Daniel against the counter and dropping to his knees behind him.

Coffee (something different)

both hands tied on the wheel by kayshea (George Russell/Toto Wolff, grid, E): George feels, stupidly, like a cat that’s been stroked. Like his skin is electric. It’s what everyone has been saying to him all day, but it feels different, somehow, coming from Toto.

if i should come upon your house lonely by withfeathers (Lewis Hamilton/Hanna Prater/Sebastian Vettel, grid, E): The summer after Sebastian's retirement, Lewis visits Switzerland for a week. Nothing about it goes as he expected.

#fic recs #maxiel #f1blr #fics I wish I was reading #(again)#maybe I will just reread them all right now #also if your fic is on this list and i haven't commented yet #it is coming #feral primer

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aglaias-blog · 5 months

Text

"Kindred Spirits" Chapt.5

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Author's note: In this chapter the reader's last Maiden's Day is described. I couldn't find many details about how this day would be celebrated, so I added some of my own ideas.

TW: afab!reader, soulmate AU, description of a panic attack, talk of religion/religious practices, homesickness, arranged marriage

Summary: Being a highborn lady, a love match is out of the question for you, much less a match with your soulmate. You're not even told about the intricacies of what meeting your soulmate entails. When you are tricked into a betrothal to Aemond Targaryen by your parents, you don't know how to handle things. The Prince's cold demeanor is off-putting, but he is also the only one who is willing to help you, the only one you can depend on. Just how is all this going to play out?

Kindred Spirits Masterlist

You awoke with a jolt, trying to fight the invisible vice that tightened more and more around your chest, forcing the air from your body. Struggling to breathe, you turned on your side, using your arm as support. Each breath you took seemed to be exhaled immediately, never reaching your lungs. The darkness of the room swirled around you, making your head spin – the void would swallow you whole!

Your head hung low, as the chocking neckline of your nightgown was now under the violent attack of your clawing hand. You were going to die, you were sure. The panic had made you numb to the way your nails dug into the delicate skin of your neck, over and over again, in a desperate attempt to relieve you from this suffocating nightmare.

Finally, you felt the fabric tear. The arm that was supporting you on the bed nearly gave out when you coughed, taking your first trembling breath. Protectively, you placed your hand on your chest - your heart was hammering painfully against its cage.

Slowly, you tried to move your fingers in your other hand - it had cramped into a painful fist, grabbing the bed linen. The sweat on your brow had cooled by now, but your breathing was still shallow.

You desperately needed light, to fight the dark, to chase away the demons that had possessed you mere seconds ago--

At the first feeling that you might retch, you stumbled out of bed – but instantly found yourself on the cold floor when your legs gave out underneath you. More than the pang of pain in your knees you felt the sting of tears, pricking behind your eyes. However, you brought yourself to crawl to your nightstand, trembling fingers feeling for the spill and candle in the dark. Finally, you had found both, and with wobbly legs you got up, taking small steps towards the fireplace.

The once lively crackling flames were dead, leaving only the last glowing embers. You lit the spill, and then the candle – sighing in relief when you felt its warmth on your face, the golden light spilling from the floor onto the walls. Now that you were safe, you couldn’t hold back the first sob that forced its way out of you.

You had convinced your mind of the inevitability of marriage - but your heart hadn’t understood.

The months you had spend learning about „wifely duties and virtues“, the lessons in leading a household, had all been in vain, you realised now. They hadn’t prepared you at all for what it truly meant to be sent to a foreign part of Westeros, where you knew nobody, what it felt like to be entirely on your own – left without the comfort of your parents, your siblings, your septa. It was eat or die here, sink or swim.

You couldn’t allow yourself to be – you always had to be watchful, throwing wary glances over your shoulder. And you only had been here for three damned days! You didn’t dare imagine what it would be like when you had to live here. When you would be a married woman. The thought of it alone made you whisper a quiet plea to the Maiden.

At dinner the sweet wine had lowered your guard, making you be your honest self – more open, genuine – you loved connecting with people and hearing their stories. Until the moment that you sensed that the things the Lords were asking were only disguised as simple questions – but were aiming for something much more dangerous, indeed.

At home the courtiers were no different, you just hadn’t needed to do the sorting yourself – your father had done it for you back then, shown you whom you could trust, and those you couldn’t trust hadn’t dared to come near you under the watchful eyes of your parents.

But here you had to fend for yourself. With a future husband who was aloof and cold, whom you could never share a bond with. Who had stared at you like an ox at a new gate when you and Maelor had tried to lift his spirits. Though, it was the first time you had seen him smile. The expression had looked foreign on his face.

Did he even want children? No, did he even like children? You assumed that he wanted children, being part of the royal family meant that producing heirs was a primary concern. But did he like them? You were unsure if you wanted to have children with someone who was as arrogant as him, who didn’t know how to show kindness to a toddler!

Yet, with marriage unpreventably came children, that much you knew. Your septa had taught you that after marriage, a child would follow within a year, usually. She had refused to tell you more about it, when you had asked for details, as it was an „inappropraite topic of conversation“.

You couldn’t stomach the thought of bearing his children – beautiful children, yes, but children who would turn out as haughty and withdrawn as their father. The humid cold that seemed to always permeate these thick walls appeared to have found its way into your heart.

Your only light of hope was your return home. Admittedly, it was only to officially come back to the Red Keep as his bride. The three weeks you would be given were far from sufficient, the journey alone would take a week! But it was enough time for you to gather your affairs, to bid your family farewell. Enough time for them to prepare your celebratory procession through King’s Landing at your arrival. Enough time to organize everything for the...marital rite, for the feast that was to follow.

The mere thought of leaving your siblings made another painful sob wrack through your body. You wouldn’t be able to see them nearly as often as you’d like. Your loyalty would lie with the royal family, and not with your own - your priority would be the realm, rather than seeing your home again.

Leaving your husband’s side would rarely be allowed, and travelling without a guardian was unheard of – a guardian which would be your husband, or a trusted member of his family or the court. And the way things were looking now, you knew that he would debar you the pleasure of making the journey with you, only to see your family. Any travels that weren’t related to business of the crown would be refused, you were sure.

Yet, should your siblings come to see you, they would be obligated to treat you as a member of the royal family. With marriage, your husband would be your family, and you would be royal – and were expected to be treated as such, even by your own family. Maybe something could be done about that, though. The relationship you had to the Queen seemed to have been a good one, from the start. Surely, she could make some changes to the royal protocol?

The sudden knock at the door startled you from your thoughts. Who could that be? A quick glance to the window told you that the sun hadn’t come up yet, it was much too early for anyone to be awake.

„My lady?“, you heard Alanna’s gentle voice behind the door which then slowly opened.

„My lady, are you alright?“ She sounded much more worried now that she saw you slumped over in front of the dead fireplace. Her worry quickly turned into serious concern when she noticed the state of your nightgown - and then the rough traces on your neck of where you had torn it.

Putting the garments she was carrying on the bed, she was by your side instantly, her hand on your back rubbing soothing circles – the warmth of her touch burning through the thin fabric of your nightgown made you realise that you were shivering.

„My lady, you must get up, you’ll fall ill if you stay on the floor“, Alanna said quietly, helping you to your feet and guiding you to your bed, putting the thick blanket around your shoulders hastily.

„What happened?“, she asked softly, taking your hands in hers, trying to warm them up.

You didn’t know what to say. Almost ashamed of the state you were in, you cast your eyes down.

„I couldn’t breathe - I- I don’t think- I’m not sure that I can do this“, you finally brought yourself to say. Your quivering voice sounded strange in your ears.

She understood immediately. You didn’t need to say more – your wet lashes and tear-dimmed eyes told her enough.

„If you truly do not wish to go forth with this betrothal, it can be called off“, she said, searching your eyes for any sign of real doubt. You knew, as well as her, that it would be scandalous to call off a royal engagement. Wars had been declared over broken betrothals! Even if it was against the law of the Seven Kingdoms to marry an unwilling person, rejecting a marriage rarely happened among nobility. You knew that the House Targaryen would see it as a severe insult should you withdraw now. Who in their right mind would refuse marriage with a Prince?

You also knew that you couldn’t avoid this altogether. The proceedings of a betrothal and marriage would always follow the same pattern, no matter into what family you would marry.

„I cannot break this betrothal“, you said quietly then. Doing so would put your family in jeopardy and shame on your house. Your father would never forgive you if you ruined the pact he so excellently negotiated. And you would never have a better opportunity than this – marrying into the royal family was an honour.

Seeing you so lost in your own thoughts, Alanna offered you a reassuring smile, hoping to cover her concern for you. It didn’t work - you saw right through her.

Then, your gaze fell on the gown Alanna had brought with her. You recognised the thick white fabric immediately. Right. Maiden’s Day. You had completely forgotten about it, whisked up in the chaos of yesterday. This was the reason why she had come to wake you so early.

The moment your maid heard the sound of heavy steps outside, she went to the fireside quickly, taking the candle and spill and putting it back on your nightstand. Not a second later, the servant knocked at the door. She had come to light the candles and the fire again. When she saw the thick blanket around you, she apologised profusely, hurrying to bring warmth to the chamber as quickly as possible.

Gently, you reassured her that you had been warm all throughout the night. It was a lie. Ignoring Alanna’s knowing look, you hoped that she would believe it.

After the servant had left, you got up, standing in the middle of the room, while Alanna dressed you. The dress weighed you down, the fabric feeling rough and heavy on your body.

Today was a holy day, meant for special worship of the Maiden. All noble maidens believing in the Seven Who Are One were expected to go to the sept before sunrise, showing reverence for Her, lighting candles and singing songs of innocence.

Tradition demanded that you came before the Maiden plainly, you were allowed no jewellery; no ornaments and no pins were to be used on your hair, except for the pinning of your veil. Your woollen dress was to be simple and unadorned, without colour.

The collar went up to your jaw - covering the swollen traces of where your night gown had chafed your neck when you had struggled to rip it.

Alanna was now carefully fixing the thin veil on your head. She had done so every year on this holy day ever since you were twelve years old. The age your parents had thought appropriate for you to have your own maid. When she had come into the service of the House Barryn, she had only been a couple years older than you. Alanna had accompanied you from childhood into majority, gone wherever you had, dried your tears and shared your laughter. And now she was there for you, on your last Maiden’s Day as a girl.

Come next year’s celebration of the Maiden, you would be a married woman.

The cold night air had immediately found its way into your bones the moment you stepped outside. Your woollen dress did nothing to protect you against the bitter winds from the sea.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you quickly were on your way to the middle bailey, Alanna close behind you. She carried the parchment garlands, and the heavy candle that you would light at the feet of the Maiden. You were not allowed to talk to her – yet another tradtion. No word was to be spoken by the noble maiden the morning of Maiden’s Day, until she was standing before the Maiden herself.

You had gotten to know the Red Keep in broad daylight - now, in the early morning hours, you almost didn’t recognize it.

The unsteady flickering light from the torches on the walls wasn’t able to illuminate the courtyards like bright sunlight did.

Still, the cold forced you to move forward, past a group of goldcloaks patrolling the castle, towards where you thought the sept to be.

It was when you got a whiff from the stench from the pigyard and the stables, that you knew that you were going in the right direction.

And there it was – the royal sept.

A septa was already waiting for you on top of the steps leading up to the intricately carved doors. Her white gown seemed to be glowing in the moonlight.

It took everything in you to not run up those steps – you were sure that you never had experienced a Maiden’s Day as bitingly cold as this.

Once you arrived at the top, you took the candle and garlands from Alanna’s hands with shaking fingers, thanking her worldlessly. She would have to wait outside the sept, as she wasn’t noble. Further, no men were allowed in the sept on Maiden’s Day, as well as mothers - and whores.

With a stern look, the septa opened one of the doors for you, not saying a word. She would stand guard in front of the sept, letting no-one enter.

The first thing you felt when stepping foot into the sept was warmth – finally, finally. Two massive iron fire bowls were positioned at either side of the entrance, and on either side of the altars of the Seven.

An amazed smile formed on your face. You had never seen a sept like this before. Of course, the sept you had at home was beautiful, but this-- it didn’t compare. The high windows were made of colourful glass, laid into intricate mosaics, depicting scenes from The Seven-Pointed Star. Your eyes flitted from one golden inlay glimmering in the walls to another, then to the many silver fabric panels, almost touching the floor.

The farther you stepped into the sept, the smaller you felt - the white marble statues of the Seven surrounding you simply looked too imposing.

They were all looking down at you, as if they had been waiting for your arrival.

Yet, you still felt heartbreakingly lonely in their company. This was your first Maiden’s Day alone.

At home, you had always celebrated with your sisters. The atmosphere had been solemn, yet giddy at the same time, when you had been getting ready together, going to the sept together – singing the songs of innocence for the Maiden – together.

And here you were in front of the Maiden – all alone.

Had you known then that it would be your last holy day celebration with them, you would have tried more urgently to burn it into your mind, would have treated the day with more seriousness.

Gently, you put down the candle you were holding. Back home you would have put the parchment garlands around the Maiden’s neck, but here the statue was too tall, you weren’t able to reach that high. So you put them at Her feet on the pedestal. You had always felt so close to Her, but now She seemed so far away that you were unsure that She would even hear your prayers.

Still, you lit a slender piece of wood with the flames of the fire bowl next to the Maiden’s altar, and then went over to the white candle. Kneeling down, you said a silent prayer for your sisters, before lighting the candle.

Then, standing up, you took a deep breath. How could you sing now? No sound would come from your throat, choked up as you were. Tears gathered in your eyes when you thought of your sisters once more – and your mother. You were sure that she was praying for you right now, asking the Maiden for your well-being, to keep you safe, hoping to have made the right choice when she had betrothed you.

You wanted to go to pieces at the thought.

But you had to sing before sunrise, if you wanted to show any reverence for the Maiden at all. So you swallowed your tears, before quietly beginning to sing the songs of innocence that you had been taught in childhood.

You missed holding your sisters’ hands while singing – you clasped your own, trying your best to soothe yourself. Admittedly, you struggled.

They would think of you now, wouldn’t they? Surely, they were missing you as much as you missed them? They would notice the hole in their circle when they sang the songs of innocence, certainly? You were all looking at the same beautiful face of God now, singing the same chants, you knew that. Only, that they were thousands of miles away.

The sun had come up over the sea, setting the Red Keep aglow, basking King’s Landing in the morning light.

The first tender rays shone through the crystals in the high windows of the sept – making many little rainbows appear on the walls.

You only noticed the light of day, when it shone directly on the innocent face of the Maiden that you had been staring at.

You had been begging her to watch over you, throwing yourself at her feet you asked her to keep you safe, to give you the courage to go through with this betrothal. But you also had to thank her for this marriage proposal, as afraid as you were of the unknown that came with it. It was more than suitable – as a little girl it had been your childish heart’s biggest dream to become a Princess, but as you had gotten older, you knew that there was little probability that it would come true. And now that it was, you could only smile melancholically - thinking back to that innocent girl you had been, unaware of what it meant to marry in the first place, much less into the royal family.

One glance to the white candle told you that your time was almost over. It was close to burning down completely. When it would go out, you could leave the sept.

You sang one last song for Her, as a goodbye. When you finished, the light of the candle had drowned in a puddle of wax.

Talking to the Maiden had been cathartic, you thought, as you slowly made your way to the entrance of the sept. It was purifying, in a way. You felt much closer to Her now, having left all your sorrows with Her.

Your attention was quickly with the outside world again, when you heard people talking outside the doors.

„You must leave, now!“, your hear what you assumed to be the septa’s barking voice. Surely, she wasn’t talking to Alanna like that? How dare she! Hastily, you opened one of the doors, eager to see what was going on.

But only the septa was standing there - next to Alanna who looked so content that it made you wary. The smile she tried to hide didn’t fit the fact that she had been standing outside the whole time, in the company of a strict septa.

You thanked the septa warmly for having stood guard at the doors of the sept.

„Of course“, she simply responded, only sparing you a stern look. What had happened before? It wasn’t your fault that she was so ill-humoured, was it? You only thanked her again, before linking arms with Alanna, almost dragging her down the steps of the sept to be out of earshot of the septa.

While going back to your quarters, you started a hushed conversation.

„What happened?“, you whispered, trying to contain your laughter at the septa’s seriousness. „Was the septa this stern the whole time you were with her?“

Alanna only giggled, nodding.

„Oh, you poor thing!“, you exclaimed theatrically, putting your hand over your heart. „It must have been dreadfully boring. Be honest though, how much did she actually talk to you?“

„Not a word!“, Alanna responded, making you both break out into laughter.

Once back in your quarters, you shut the door behind you and simply looked at Alanna curiously.

„What really happened back at the sept? You know, I heard the septa speaking to somebody, but when I left the sept, it didn’t seem like she was talking to you.“

The mischievous grin on your maid’s face only made your anticipation grow. What wasn’t she telling you?

„Alanna! Say something!“, you urged her to finally spill the truth.

„Well…“, she said, looking at you suggestively.

„It was the Prince.“

„What!?“, you shrieked, slapping your hand over your mouth, as if to shove the sound back into your mouth. You grabbed Alanna by her shoulders, making her look at you.

„What?“, you repeated, whispering now.

Alanna watched you with a satisfied smile, this was exactly the reaction she had expected.

„What did he want?“

„It seemed that he forgot that it was Maiden’s Day, my lady. He wanted to enter the sept, the septa kept him from doing so, and then he just-“, she started giggling again, „he just stood there. Listening to you sing. The septa had to chase him away!“

A blush slowly crept onto your face. He had heard you sing the songs of innocence? Why did you feel flattered that he wanted to stay to hear you at the sept?

You wanted to slap some sense into yourself!

It was just another thing he knew about you now, he was collecting little elements about your personality, like gemstones, while you still only knew about him what he wanted you to know!

„Ugh, he enfuriates me“, you decided to say, turning around to let Alanna loosen the ties of your dress - ignoring her failed attempt to hide her smile.

Taglist: @fan-goddess @toodlesxcuddles @heavenly1927

Chapter Six

#aggiewrites #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd #aemond #hotd aemond #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x fem!reader

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unwanted-animal · 3 months

Text

Fate Makes Fools - A FirstPrince Soulmate/Omegaverse AU

Tags: Canon Divergence, AU, Soulmates, Omegaverse, Fluff, Smut, FirstPrince, RWRB Movie, cunnilingus, fingering, blowjobs, oral sex, knotting, throat knotting

Chapter One: Entwined (5243 words)

Just a heads up, I didn't intend to do a rewrite of the movie when I started this but there are some scenes I simply could not live without, so I hope y'all don't mind a bit of that <;.<

I need to get out of here.

Alex sighed, peering at the words. Soulmates seemed too constricting. And what were these? Words shouted at a bar, over pumping music? The panicking of someone disappointed in him? Nah. He didn’t want to be tied down, especially to someone who didn’t want him. The girl from his night out smiled up at him, her soft hand guiding his face into a slow kiss. He hadn’t caught her name, but she was cute. Would he really have to give this up one day, his freedom? What if it wasn’t worth it? Alex kissed her back and slipped off the couch, settling on his knees before her. Oh well. He had his whole life ahead of him, didn’t he? It wasn’t like he was going to meet his soulmate at the party tonight. There was time.

At the party, the words began to glow blue.

-------

Do you think anyone noticed?

Odd words for a soulmate, Henry mused, running his thumb over the phrase that curled along his skin. It was never first words, not like in the stories - the tooth-achingly sweet movies he loved always played with the rules of the world. In reality, it was a phrase that altered the course of destiny. Soulmates, whether platonic, polyamorous, or romantic, always found each other. That’s what his father said. As he dressed for Phillip’s wedding he couldn’t shake the longing to find his other half. Did fate accept queer pairings? Would his be a lifelong friend instead? He had no answers, and soon the words were covered by the stiff white sleeve of his shirt. Out of sight and hopefully out of mind. It was his brother’s big day, after all. His anxieties could wait.

--------

Cake covered every inch of them, frosting and crumbs scattered over the palace carpet. Henry’s anger and shame threatened to swallow him as he looked over at Alex. Everyone stared. He could hear the sounds of mobiles sliding from pockets and purses, drowned out swiftly by the murmurs of the crowd. The American had done the unthinkable - ruined a royal wedding almost single-handedly. Before he could speak Alex turned to him and raised his dark brows.

“Do you think anyone noticed?”

Oh, bollocks. Not him. Anyone but Alex Claremont-Diaz. His blood pounded in his ears and he struggled to find words, amazed at the sheer gall of the man beside him.

Henry rose to his knees and flung the cake off his arms, barely fighting back a scowl. Everything was wrong. It couldn’t possibly get worse! At least Alex would be going back to the United States, faster than if he hadn’t just destroyed a seventy-five thousand pound cake at Prince Phillip’s wedding reception. Even if it was meant to be platonic, he couldn’t stand him. Fate could go fuck itself, he thought, kneeling in the confectionary carnage. He refused, absolutely refused, to get tangled up with Alex.

As he cleaned cake off himself that night, the words began to glow red.

————-

The PR tour was going to be a nightmare. Working with Henry was like pulling teeth. It had been years since the first big rejection, when Henry was rude to him at the Climate Conference, but it still stung. Maybe more than it should, but Alex would never admit that aloud. It was normal. Perfectly normal. He prided himself on his affability, and that pride had been wounded.

And he dwelled on it for years.

His mind went back to that original slight as he collapsed into a cleaning closet with Henry, limbs tangled as they struggled to separate.

“Get your hands off of me!” Henry huffed. Alex was more than happy to oblige. He struggled until he lay with his back pressed against Henry’s side, trying not to dwell on the warmth of his body or the scent of his skin so close. It was strange… different. Was he a Beta? It would make sense, Alex supposed - careful breeding for centuries to stamp out the baser urges of Alphas and Omegas.

“- and why don’t you like me?”

Fuck. He hadn’t been listening. Alex wriggled and turned as best he could, grunting and shifting until he was facing Henry in the cramped space.

“Climate Conference in Melbourne. First night party. I went to introduce myself to you and you looked at me like I had head lice. Then, you turned to your equerry and said ‘Get me out of here’.”

“… I didn’t realize you’d heard that,” Henry replied, casting his eyes down.

“So you do admit that’s a douchey thing to say.”

“I could have been nicer.”

Alex didn’t quite know how to take that. He shifted away, elbow knocking into a bucket as he adjusted his position once more.

“Alright, what else?” Henry asked. “It couldn’t have just been the conference.”

A sheepish look from Alex answered Henry’s question.

“Oh my god, it is!” he laughed. “It is, isn’t it?”

“Don’t minimize it!”

“How could I possibly? It’s already as minimal as it gets! Are you seriously telling me that one meeting, years ago - in which, yes, I admittedly acted ungenerously toward you - has occupied such a vast mental and emotional space in your head?”

“Sure, when you put it like that,” Alex bit back. “But it was my first foray into the world as a public figure, and I was really scared, and you could’ve helped me and you didn’t.”

Henry was quiet a moment. He let Alex’s words settle, considering them, and loosed a quiet sigh.

“You’re right. I’m sorry I was a prick to you. I… It’s no excuse, but I was a prick to everyone in those days. My father had died a few months before and the palace insisted on parading me around. For the record,” he added, chuckling as he spoke, “I didn’t say ‘get me out of here’. I said ‘I need to get out of here’, which is a different thing entirely.”

Alex pushed himself up to a sitting position, his shoulder half-crushing Henry’s arm as he readjusted yet again.

“No. No, you didn’t. That can’t be right.”

“It is,” Henry assured him. “It was -“

Before he could finish Alex shoved his sleeve up and pushed his arm into Henry’s vision.

I need to get out of here.

Henry tried to look shocked, lips parted, brows raised - Alex couldn’t tell he was faking. He was too distraught.

“You?! You’re my soulmate?”

Brooms and bottles clacked and fell around them as he struggled to crawl away from the Prince.

“No. Nope. I’m not doing this.”

Amy opened the door to give them the all clear and Alex pushed himself out with all the grace of a newborn deer. He reached out and pulled Henry to his feet, very pointedly not making eye contact.

“Everything alright?” Amy asked, glancing between them.

Alex pulled his sleeve down quickly.

“It’s fine. We’re fine. Are we done now? I really should be getting back.”

Prince Henry. And they’d been tied together for years without Alex knowing. It wasn’t fair. Maybe he didn’t have words Alex said on him. Maybe it was one-sided. Or platonic! It wasn’t the end of the world. Not yet. Not for certain.

———

Outside, they shook hands once more for the camera, smiling a little awkwardly.

“Can I ask you something?” Alex said quietly.

“I suppose.”

“What are your words, y’know? Have you met the person who said them already?”

“Unfortunately,” Henry answered, sighing. He took a second to tug his own sleeve up.

Do you think anyone noticed?

The words pulsed with purple energy.

“Has it done that before?”

“… No,” he admitted. “It was red before today.”

Alex knew what he’d find when he took his jacket off. The same hue. They were together for the first time since their utterances. It was fate. Soulmates.

“Well. I need to get out of here,” Alex said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Until next time, your majesty.” Without looking back he climbed into the waiting car. This was something for Tomorrow Alex - or maybe Month Ahead Alex - to deal with. Not Now Alex. What Now Alex needed was a drink.

———

Unbeknownst to them both, several pictures of Henry’s words were captured before they went their separate ways. The blended hues could only mean Henry was in the presence of his soulmate, and he’d spent the entire day beside Alex Claremont-Diaz. The Daily Mail ran with the photos first, outing Henry with their usual vicious malice, and the tabloids gushed about the dreamy pair.

A few days after the articles began, Alex received a strange text.

Have you heard the good news? We already have a pup on the way.

He stared in horror at his phone. He always used protection, he wasn’t a complete idiot. Before he could reply, another text popped up - this time with a link to a Daily Mail article about the supposed pup.

This is Henry, by the way.

A little bitmoji Prince followed.

Rolling his eyes, the scare over, Alex replied.

How did you get this number?

MI6. (Not joking)

Alex added the number to his phone and flipped it face down. He was working on a paper he needed to finish by the weekend; he couldn’t be bothered to entertain a Prince.

Ten minutes later he grabbed it and typed out another message.

My phrase is purple too. What do you think it means?

That we’re inextricably bound by fate to be Something™️. I’m just not sure of what.

“Yeah, me either,” Alex sighed. He ran a hand through his dark curls, trying to ignore the faint glow of the words on his arm.

Come to my New Year’s party? Maybe we can figure it out there. It’s already out in the open. We might as well embrace it.

I hate New Year’s.

I know people who would kill to be at one of my parties.

It’s settled then - kill me and I won’t have to go.

“Ass,” Alex snorted. He shook his head, a small smile on his lips, and put the phone back down. Focus. He needed to focus.

———

Are you an Omega?

It was a bit blunt, but Alex was never really one to beat around the bush.

What a scandalous question!

The article said there was ‘speculation’! I’m just curious!

It’s… complicated. I am, but a member of the royal house cannot be ‘unseemly’. I take hormones to control my heats and change my scent in public.

What’s that like? The medication?

I get cramps instead of going into full heat. It’s not awful. It’d be worse without. Being alone, feeling that ache again? No, once was enough for me, thank you.

Don’t you wanna ask about me?

Sweetheart, I could smell you upwind. I know you’re a big bad Alpha. Dangerous for us, isn’t it? We’ll have to use protection.

What makes you think we’re going that far? 😂

I just meant in public. Shaking hands is enough to get me pregnant, according to the Mail. Bring your gloves next time! We can’t afford the scandal!

———

Alex’s days were filled with texts and calls to Henry. They talked when Henry woke up, when Alex went to bed, any moment they could catch together. God help him, Alex found himself enjoying Henry’s company. As autumn faded into winter and he began to cement the plans for his New Year’s party, he continued to pester Henry about coming.

I still don’t know, Alex. You’ll be the only person I know at the party.

Not true! Nora will be there!

Well, I do have someone who wants to meet her… I’ll consider it. Really hard. I promise.

You better. How awkward would it be if my party wasn’t cool enough for my soulmate? I’d be a laughingstock.

Right, we wouldn’t want to damage your precious reputation as a party boy, would we?

Not a party boy. The party boy, thank you.

My apologies, Mr. Claremont-Diaz. The party boy.

Apology accepted.

New Year’s Eve, the tent on the White House lawn was packed with a veritable who’s who of young celebrities. Politician’s children, actors, musicians, influencers, even Alex’s college friends visiting on his dime. He wanted it to be a fun, safe space for people from all walks of life to celebrate and get shitfaced - and maybe make some memories. Nora led him through the crowd, and as he greeted the throng his eyes fell on a familiar face.

Henry hadn’t stood him up.

As Henry introduced his friend Percy to Nora, Alex waited patiently for them to finish. The two slipped off to the bar and Alex threw his arm around Henry’s neck.

“I’ve been drunk since Christmas. You gotta catch up!”

He bought him a bottle of champagne from the bar and guided him over to one of the sofas they had set up for people to rest on. Alex’s excitement was palpable as he chatted with Henry, laughing and encouraging him to drink. They were sitting close, close enough that even with the crowd’s cloying scents mixing and filling the tent around them he could smell Henry’s hormones - as if he were keyed into his particular aroma. The sleeve of his iridescent jacket covered his mark, but it burned against his skin.

One of the guests sat beside him and coaxed him to come dance. Alex wasn’t one to say no, especially at a party he was hosting, so he stood and took her hand.

“I’ll be back!” He said with a smile.

Henry’s disappointment was clear, but Alex was too charged up by the celebrations to notice. He danced with the woman for a few songs, smiling at her but keeping a safe distance between them. He longed to go back to Henry; when he looked toward the sofa, however, Henry wasn’t there.

Alex excused himself and went searching for him. He found Henry sitting at the bar still nursing his champagne.

“Come dance with me!”

“Ballroom lessons didn’t exactly cover this,” Henry admitted.

“It’s all in the hips! You just gotta loosen up!”

Alex took hold of his hips and started to sway. At first Henry was reticent, stiff and shy, but soon he relaxed and started trying to match Alex’s fluid movements. Alex pulled him toward the crowd. All eyes were on them as they danced, Alex clearly an expert and Henry pressed against him with the bottle in his hand.

It felt right. It felt electric. Alex gazed into his eyes, dimples clear as he grinned, and he slipped an arm around Henry’s waist to hold his body flush against him. Maybe it was the hormones. Maybe it was the booze. Maybe it was the pull of fate bringing them together - but whatever it was, Alex wanted Henry in a way he’d never experienced.

“Ten seconds til midnight!” The DJ called. Everyone stopped dancing to count down.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One…

Before he could object, one of the women from the crowd pulled Alex into a quick kiss. When she let go another did the same. Alex laughed, his cheeks flushed. He started to turn -

Henry grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him into a deep, heated kiss. A soft growl slipped from his throat as he gripped Alex’s hair. Alex melted against him, holding him as if the world would fall away if he let go. Heart pounding, he chased the kiss as everyone cheered for them. Henry filled his thoughts, his blood raced in his veins, and Alex grabbed his ass and pulled his hips against his.

More. He wanted more.

Henry broke away first, panting, his forehead resting against Alex’s.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t be. I - “

Before Alex could finish Henry pulled away and ducked into the crowd. He disappeared as Alex struggled to move through the people patting his back and congratulating him. After all, not only had he just come out in the most public way imaginable, he’d done so with his soulmate - answering a question no one dared ask him.

Would he pursue their bond?

———

Hey, can we talk?

Henry. C’mon.

Are you alive?

I am.

Not up to conversation?

Alex, I made an ass of myself at your party. Can I not be embarrassed in peace?

Absolutely not.

What did you want to talk about?

Well, that kiss, first of all.

It was unbecoming of me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten jealous.

Unbecoming? It was hot, Henry. I haven’t been kissed like that in a long time.

Neither have I.

So you did do some kissing before we found each other?

I don’t kiss and tell, darling. Not unless you ask very nicely.

I’ll tell you about the guys I’ve been with if you tell me about the times you hooked up.

You don’t have the time, and I don’t have an NDA on me.

Spoilsport.

… How many?

Two. Once in high school, and once… Once, with Miguel Ramos. We were on the campaign trail, and drunk, in a hot tub, fully naked…

Should I be as jealous as I am?

I have a feeling he wants me back in that hot tub, but it’s not gonna happen.

May I ask why?

I hate that he uses me as a source even if we’re just hanging out, for one. And for another, I kind of found someone I’m interested in.

Oh? Who’s that?

Some rich white boy.

Is he handsome?

I think he’s the reason faces were invented.

Oh. That’s… high praise? I think?

It is.

Good.

… Why were you jealous, at the party?

Because. You’re mine. I didn’t like seeing those women claim your kiss. It wasn’t theirs to claim.

You’re a lot different than I expected.

For a royal.

And for an Omega.

I’m flattered, Alex. Glad you think of me as a person and not an enemy now.

I wouldn’t go that far, Your Majesty.

It’s ‘Your Royal Highness.

Well excuse me, Prince. Your Royal Highness.

Apology accepted.

I didn’t apologize!

Might as well have.

You are so annoying!

You’re stuck with me. 😘

Alex snorted and set his phone aside. He supposed he was. There were worse people he could be stuck with. Someone who was a worse kisser, for example.

When will I see you next?

Why don’t you ask me out properly?

Fine. Henry, will you be my guest for the state dinner in February?

I would be delighted.

Alex grinned and lay back on his bed, fingers poised over the keyboard. A date, with the Prince of England. Who he’d kissed a month before.

His soulmate.

In public, in front of his mother and the Prime Minister, and all the journalists who would be there to cover the event.

I can’t wait to see you again.

Careful. Keep talking to me like that and I’ll think you like me.

God forbid.

———

As soon as Alex saw Henry he knew he had to get him alone. A quick request to Amy was all it took to slip away, into the Red Room where they could meet in private. Alex wasn’t sure what he planned to say to him, but he knew he wanted to greet him away from prying eyes. After so long apart he just wanted to be around him, to take in his scent and feel him close.

Was that part of being soulmates? That ache that grew the longer they were separated? He hated it, regardless of the source.

Henry entered the room and Alex stopped breathing. He didn’t think. There was no hesitation.

“I wanted to -“

“Shut up. Stop talking.”

Alex crossed the distance to him and kissed him, cupping his face, drinking in the scent of Henry. His skin, his cologne, the shampoo, the stilted scent of Beta hormones. It overwhelmed him. He guided Henry to the closest bookshelf and pressed him against it, starving for attention. Heat coursed through Alex as he grinded his hips against him. Growling, he rutted against Henry, squeezing his thigh and guiding it over his hip.

Pleasure sparked as they moved, Henry pushing back against him, just as desperate to chase it. His hands tugged at Alex’s hair. Fuck, just a little more contact and he’d be painting the inside of his pants -

“Okay, time’s - Oh my god!”

Amy ducked back out of the room and pulled the door shut behind her.

They pushed apart immediately, Alex studying a plant and Henry pointing an awkward finger at books on the next shelf over. There was no way it looked convincing, but they stayed like that for a moment until they were sure the coast was clear.

“Fuck,” Alex laughed, glancing at the door. “We better get back.” He cleared his throat and tugged on his pant leg, trying to hide his arousal. “I’m gonna need a moment.”

“I suppose I’m lucky in that regard,” Henry replied, leaning against the wall. “I’ll go out first.”

“We leave together. Everyone already knows about us, right? There’s no harm in walking back to the dining room. What are they gonna do, start a rumor we’re together?”

“You make a compelling argument. We’ll leave when you’ve got this under control,” Henry teased, gently cupping Alex’s cock through his pants.

“Oh, don’t you dare.”

———

All eyes turned to them as they rejoined the guests, and both men smiled and waved as if nothing had happened between them. The violet glow of their marks peeked out from beneath their sleeves. Cameras flashed around them as they made their way to the heart of the hall.

“Are you still…”

“Like the Thames.”

“Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

“Yes. Tell me.”

“You’re going to stay at least five hundred feet away from me for the rest of the night.”

“Sensible plan.”

“I’m not done,” Alex said firmly.

“Of course you’re not,” Henry sighed.

“Then, at midnight, you’re going to come to my room on the second floor of the residence where I’m going to do some very. Bad. Things to you.”

Alex adjusted his jacket and walked away, leaving Henry staring heavy-lidded in awe after him.

———

A knock roused Alex from undressing. Tie undone and hanging around his shoulders, he answered the door with a smirk. Henry stood outside, his gaze heavy.

“You’re late,” Alex quipped, and tried to close the door on him. Henry pushed it open and grabbed Alex, pulling him into a hungry kiss. He backed him towards the sofa, unbuttoning his shirt with deft skill. Moaning, Alex chased his lips, letting Henry lead until he could sit down on the back of the sofa. His shirt hung open, exposing his muscular chest and stomach to Henry’s eager hands. Soft fingers danced along the curves of his abdomen. He let out a possessive growl and shoved Alex back over the couch.

Alex landed with a grunt and stretched himself along the cushions, spreading his legs as Henry slotted between them. Henry broke away to kiss down Alex’s throat, down his chest, down to his navel as he inched lower and lower. He unbuckled Alex’s belt and cast it aside. Alex helped where he could, lifting his hips and shoving down the zipper of his fly. Henry buried his face in his boxers and inhaled, savoring the musk of his arousal. His Alpha pheromones sent gooseflesh crawling along his skin. Turning his eyes up to Alex, he nuzzled his cock through the fabric and mouthed over it, moaning with want.

“Fuck,” Alex breathed, shuddering. “You look good between my legs.”

Henry drooled along his length, teasing him. Alex twitched against his lips. It wasn’t enough. He needed more. Just like after their first kiss, he ached. Breath heavy, he reached down and carded his fingers through Henry’s blond hair.

“Don’t stop. Please, Henry…”

Henry licked the spot where his head strained against the fabric and carefully peeled it away, baring Alex’s cock to the air. He brushed his plush lips against Alex’s skin, clearly relishing the way his body responded. His mouth parted and Henry swallowed him, inch by inch, until he couldn’t take any more. Resting a moment, he moaned again, the sound vibrating along Alex’s shaft. Hot and soft as silk, his cheeks slid over his cock and Alex gripped his hair. He let Henry lead, watching as he sucked him with incredible skill. Their gazes locked, heated and hungry, never breaking even as Henry’s eyes began to water.

“Don’t, don’t hurt yourself,” Alex breathed. “It’s alright. Take it slow, Henry.”

He continued to suck, ignoring Alex’s command and sliding his hands up his muscular thighs. Henry kneaded his firm skin in time with his movements, slowly guiding them higher until he could scratch at the vee of his hips. Alex could feel his control slipping. Henry’s mouth felt incredible. His nails on Alex’s sensitive skin made his hips jerk into his mouth. He’d been so pent up since New Year’s, since the PR tour… In truth, since he found out Henry was his soulmate. Melting against Henry’s eager tongue, the base of his cock began to swell. His head fell back against the arm of the couch, legs shaking. He gasped Henry’s name when he came, spilling thick seed down his throat as his knot hardened behind his jaw.

“Ah… Oh! Shit, shit, I’m so sorry -” Alex stammered, letting go of his hair and stroking Henry’s cheek. “I forgot to warn you. Um… It should go down in, like, ten minutes. Are you, uh, okay?”

Henry nodded. Somehow he managed to look mischievous with his mouth occupied, lips swollen and pink around the curve of his knot. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Alex cleared his throat and closed his eyes - watching Henry would only make it worse. He’d never get soft.

Hanging over the arm of the sofa, Henry shifted so he could rest his head against Alex’s thigh. Alex kept touching his face, tracing his fingers against his soft skin. Breathing slow helped him focus on relaxing. He could feel Henry drooling on his pants, his breath ghosting along his groin. There had to be something he could think of, focus on, other than Henry.

After a few minutes he finally began to relax enough to ease out of Henry’s mouth. Alex sat up and pulled Henry into his lap.

“Did that hurt?”

Henry opened and closed his jaw, rubbing the joint gently.

“A little. I liked it. I haven’t been knotted in a very long time,” he admitted.

“Almost sounds like you missed it,” Alex purred. “Did you?”

“Yes,” Henry breathed, resting his forehead against Alex’s. “I really, really did.”

“Henry… Get these pants off and sit on the couch for me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been dying to taste you all night.”

Henry kissed him again, slow and deep, before following his orders. He stood and stripped as Alex watched, cheeks flushed pink. He wore a pair of white lace panties beneath them. The straps rode up on his hips, baring the top of his thighs. Alex couldn’t speak. He could barely think. Had he worn them in anticipation? Or did he just like lingerie?

“Fuck the couch,” Alex growled. He slipped off the cushion and knelt in front of Henry. One hand guided his thigh over Alex’s shoulder. He slid his nose along the gusset, smelling his cunt through the fabric. The hormones Henry took truly masked any scent of his Omega status, but he couldn’t hide his body. Not from Alex. Not anymore.

A quiet moan slipped from Henry’s throat and he grabbed Alex by the hair. He held him in place, grinding against his face in slow circles. Alex mouthed over his lips, sucking the damp lace with a groan of his own. He tasted good, and Alex couldn’t help but wonder how much better he’d taste off of his medication. In a full-blown rut. Dripping for him, a hive of nectar just for Alex to gorge himself on.

Alex pulled Henry’s panties to the side and dragged his tongue between his lips. Henry trembled. He licked again, pausing to suck gently at his clit.

“Oh fuck!”

He didn’t think he’d ever heard Henry curse. Alex craved it, longing to coax more depravity from those pretty lips of his.

Henry wasn’t his first Omega partner. Alex knew exactly what to do with his mouth to make his knees weak. As he sucked at his nerves, he brought his hand up to tease his pussy. He slipped a finger inside of him, slowly fucking him in time with his mouth. He kept it shallow, just a tease, and slick dripped down onto his knuckles. Henry whined, the sound catching in his throat.

“More,” he whispered. “Alex, please. That wicked mouth of yours is, is driving me crazy…”

Alex moaned and closed his eyes. His long lashes fluttered against Henry’s skin, a little butterfly kiss that sent lightning down his spine. He focused on Henry’s body and the way he responded to his tongue, to his lips, to his fingers. Alex worked a second finger inside him and pressed deeper, crooking them and searching for the spot inside him that would shatter him.

He wanted to watch the prince fall apart.

“Ah! God, Alex! There,” Henry gasped breathlessly. “Fuck! I’m, I’m not going to last. I can’t. I can’t…”

Henry’s thighs went rigid. His toes curled. He forced Alex’s head flush against his cunt, rutting against his lips as his orgasm crashed over him. Squirting around his fingers, muscles spasming, his legs went weak. Alex caught him awkwardly, guiding him down to the floor with a wet grin. His face shimmered in the light of the lamps, slick with Henry’s cum.

“You. God.” It was Henry’s turn to be speechless. He panted in Alex’s arms, staring up at him like nothing else in the world existed.

“Good, huh?” Alex teased. “Glad to see I’m not too out of practice.”

“Mmn. Shut up.”

Henry grabbed his head and pulled him into a messy kiss. They could taste each other, the tang of sex and slick on their tongues. It made Alex’s head spin. He started to stiffen beneath Henry, and Henry whined again.

“We, we should stop here. I can’t stay all night.”

“Says who?”

“My security detail,” Henry answered. “And I have appearances tomorrow afternoon.” Still, he didn’t leave Alex’s embrace.

“And if I don’t want to let you go?”

“Well. We’d have an international incident on our hands, I might just fuck your brains out - and you have so little of them to begin with…”

Alex snorted and pushed him away.

“Alright, alright, your majesty.”

“It’s your royal highness, you really ought to know that by now,” Henry said with a grin. He crawled over Alex, kissing a trail up his bare chest and ending at his lips.

“We should do this again, Henry.”

“I’d love that. I would.”

Henry pushed himself off of Alex and stared down at him for a moment. With their eyes locked on each other, he slipped off his panties. He leaned down and pushed the lace into Alex’s mouth.

“Something to tide you over ‘til next time.”

Without another word he got dressed and left Alex sitting on the floor half-hard and overwhelmed by his scent. He pulled the panties out of his mouth and inhaled, thinking about the way Henry looked with his knot in his mouth.

Their next meeting couldn’t come soon enough.

#RWRBFic #red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb movie #jwrites #Popping over to AO3 now i just know tumblr hates links #jgifs

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amaya-writes · 2 years

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Hi! Could I request a Kiyotaka Ayanokouji Soulmate AU for the event?

Where him and the reader don't think that they're the other's soulmate, just shenanigans and fluff at the end please?

Event Masterlist About The Event

Notes: idk if I like this or not but I hope you like it! it's kinda mid tbh 😭

Warnings: n/a

Characters involved: Kiyotaka Ayanokoji

Gender-neutral reader, you/yours

Kiyotaka had never been one to obsess over the idea of soulmates.

While others in his class would fawn over the concept and gush about how much they wanted to meet the person they were destined to be with forever, Kiyotaka thought the idea of soulmates was annoying.

You were always the same way; never bothering to take part in the conversations that would even make Suzune turn her head.

He had always thought you weren't interested in those conversations because you had never been interested in finding your soulmate. Not because you had already found that fated someone.

Especially not if that someone was him.

"You- how?"

Kiyotaka had been through many jarring situations in his life, but none of them could even begin to compare to the shock he felt as his fingertips ghosted over the name so neatly engraved on the inside of your forearm.

You were his soulmate.

The thought was as peculiar as it was surprising. After all, the two of you were nothing alike.

You were an inactive member of class D who Kiyotaka would often overlook during their schemes to up the other classes. Someone who was smart enough to occasionally be of use to him yet not dumb enough to be easily exploited.

You were a mere background character in his life. Up until you weren't.

He should have caught on the day you started wearing lace gloves to every class, nonchalantly stating they were a fashion statement that was obvious enough for a blind man to see it.

Your sudden aversion to him somewhere during the first term had also been a dead giveaway, especially since your casual nods towards him had turned into guiltily averted looks.

What Kiyotaka couldn't understand was why it had taken so long for your name to imprint on the inside of his dominant forearm.

Different imprinting timings weren't very rare, but there was usually a reason for the timing. So why now?

Why, after months of thinking nothing of you, had he suddenly become worthy of knowing you were his soulmate?

"It imprints the moment you realize it."

"What?"

You let out a small sigh at his question, reaching forward to tug on the black glove he had previously wrestled off of your hand even as you continued.

"The name imprints on your skin the second you realise that person could be your soulmate."

He couldn't help but amusedly raise a brow at your explanation, with the sight making you roll your eyes in annoyance.

"You thought I could be your soulmate during the first term?"

You shrugged at the accusation but seemed more interested in knowing his reasons than your own.

It made sense, after all, having a crush on someone new in your life and finding out they were your soulmate was normal, but Kiyotaka's situation wasn't.

"I guess if it had to be someone I thought it would be you."

"Why?"

It was his turn to shrug at the question, but Kiyotaka found himself slowly easing away from your form until he was casually leaning against the other side of the hallway he had cornered you in.

"You're balanced."

Your eyebrows furrowed at the word, with the action forcing him to keep going.

"You're smart but docile. You care about the people around you but not enough for it to be overbearing or get in my way. And you're easy to understand."

You smiled at that, with the gesture making him hesitantly grin just as the school's bell rang and forced the two of you to return to class.

Kiyotaka didn't know if he would ever learn to love you like a soulmate, but for now the leverage your situation gave him was enough.

After all, people were so much easier to use when their hearts were yours for the taking.

#kiyotaka ayanokouji #kiyotaka x reader #ayanokoji x reader #ayanokoji hcs #ayanokoji x you #ayanokoji scenarios #classroom of the elite x reader #classroom of the elite x you #kiyotaka imagines #kiyotaka scenarios #ayanokoji x y/n

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purpleyoonn · 2 years

Text

My Light

“Your beauty brought out the light in him, made him see how dark the world truly was. He couldn’t bare the thought of leaving you in the dark.”

Summary: Your uncle had left you a home in some seaside town you hadn’t heard of. Moving out there was easy, but living there was harder. Until he found you, then...you didn’t know what to think.

Pairing: Mermaid Prince Jimin x Human Reader

Genre: soulmate au, yandere au, fantasy au, mermaids, mental illness

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: mc has depression, thoughts of depression, mermaid Jimin, yandere Jimin, Jimin stalks the mc, possessive Jimin, mermaid customs, forced marriage, perceived dream sex, smut, kidnapping, stalking,

(please let me know if I miss any tags/warnings)

Masterlist // Navigation

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The waves crashed against the shore, the dock swaying to the pulse of the water rocking against the wood. You sat on the dock, pants rolled up as you rested your feet in the water. Your flannel was dark from the dirt you had mucked through. It had been a long day, helping your neighbor sort through his garden.

You lived alone in a small cottage, about a couple yards away from the shore, your favorite place. You had inherited the small home from some uncle you had never met, your name the only one written in his will. You remember laughing at the lawyer, thinking the entire meeting was a joke.

But now, you were thankful.

You had been living in the small coastal town for a couple months now, acquainting yourself with your uncle’s neighbors and friends who had all come by to say their condolences. Your neighbor, in particular, seemed to push the closest. He was an old man who your uncle had grown up with, and he and his wife were always bringing food over to your door, worried for your ever shrinking frame.

You had grown to enjoy their company, but sometimes, like now, you loved the silence that came with being alone.

Before moving here, you had been overwhelmed with life, and the stimulation of living with your large family always made you irritated and wanting to jump out of your skin. Since moving into your uncle’s home, you had rarely felt that way, but when you did, you came down here to the docks. The sound of the ocean always drowned out the sound of your own thoughts.

The shore was rocky, almost to a point, and was the perfect hiding spot for curious mermen and sirens who noticed the humans on the shore. Currently, Jimin was hiding behind one of the larger rocks closer to the shore, still hidden from view. He had been watching you for some time, curious about the human who took over his old friend’s home.

Your uncle had saved him from a hunting accident, had stitched together his tail from the hole the hook had made. Since then, it was a mutually protective friendship. Your uncle made sure no one hunted in his water, and he would make sure that your uncle always had fish for his table.

It had only been a couple of months since he last saw his friend, Jimin remembering the promise he made to watch over his young niece. He didn’t understand until he saw you for the first time, your long pants and sweatshirt covering your body, as if you were hiding from something. You drew him in immediately, your presence like his very own lighthouse, always drawing him in and capturing his attention. He seemed to always know when you were at the shore, like his mind was trained on your soul.

Even now, he could tell you were at the shore, bringing him from the bottom of the ocean, where his cave was located, to the surface. He watched as you silently cried, his heart clenching at the sight of you. He wanted to hold you, comfort you and tell you everything would be okay. He tried to stay hidden, but once your salty tears mixed with the water, he couldn’t stay still any longer.

You were trying to wipe the never-ending flow of tears from your cheeks when someone’s hand held your own, and rubbed their thumb against your cheek. You opened your eyes, staring straight into the deep blue eyes in front of you as they moved to cup your cheek.

You were silent as he wiped your tears, your eyes trying to make sense of what you were seeing. This man was beyond beautiful. His features were sharp but held something akin to magic as he captured your attentions. His torso was completely bare, but his hips, not covered by the water, were covered in a light purple, shimmering skin. The beginning of what looks like scales just peeking through the water.

“Who are you?” The words manage to slip past your lips as he continues to cup your cheeks in his hands, his eyes moving over your features, emotion covering his face in a way you haven’t seen in years. His eyes held a softness you wish you had experiences more, wished you had someone who would look at you with.

He didn’t answer, just moved a hand up to brush the hair out of your face. He brought your face down and placed his lips on the top of your head, stilling for a couple of seconds before pulling away. His hands leaving your skin as he descends back into the water.

The whole thing only took a couple of minutes, but to you, it felt like hours. His touch lingering on your skin as the feeling of his lips on your temple becomes a permanent sensation of warmth. You felt a familiarity in your heart when you were with him. Something you couldn’t explain.

You realized, as you were walking back up the dock and towards your home, that you don’t even remember why you were crying, why you were feeling so down. It was like you heart and soul were warming up. The feelings of inadequacy and loneliness were numbing, but the stranger’s touch was warming, all encompassing.

You turn back around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the beautiful and calming man, but you have no such luck. You open your door and immediately move to make a cozy little nest for you to burrow in, lighting a couple of your favorite candles as you put your favorite movie on. You needed all the comfort you could get right now.

Jimin just watched from his spot behind the large rock, his heart beating at the sight of you all burrowed up in your blankets. He couldn’t help but to wish you were with him, letting him curl around you in comfort as you lay in the seaweed and moss bed he would make for you.

-*-*-

You were slowly losing your mind, you thought.

Every morning, you woke up to seashells and other remnants of the sea on your porch, with no way of knowing where they came from. You wondered if they came from your mystery seaman, but you hadn’t seen him since that day on the dock.

You never did anything with the shells until one day. You had woken up and done your routine, finishing with a check of your porch to see what treasures remained today. But only one shell was there, a large scotch bonnet laid on the wood of your porch, its color unusual, the deep purple and blue catching your attention immediately. It shined under the morning sunlight, causing hues of purple and blue to shine on your clothing as you moved closer.

Moving back inside, you placed the shell on your windowsill in the kitchen above your sink, just overlooking the dock as that is where the best sunlight comes in during the day. You couldn’t help but admire it, hoping it came from the seaman who wiped your tears.

You felt connected to the man, wondering and hoping you could see him again.

Deciding to continue with what you planned to do today, you grabbed a couple of your reusable bags and made your way to the market in town. The market consisted of several vendors, a lot coming from neighboring inland towns to sell their goods. There was a couple of produce stands, and even a baked goods stand that had the most wonderful blueberry scones. Those were your favorite.

Your steps were slow in approach, eyes curious and gazing as you looked over everything you could see. There were a lot more booths and vendors out in the market space today. A jewelry stand caught your eye, the sea opal jewelry catching your eye as you moved forward. A ring made of molded metal, clutching a single oval shaped sea opal in the center was the one that had you entranced. It was beautiful and the trance you were in had you trying it on your ring finger.

It fit perfectly, shocking you but also making you think that it was meant for you. But reality had to set in. Your budget for the month only allowed you very slight leeway and you had already used the extra money on new gardening supplies so you could continue to plant vegetables. That, however, was also why you were at the market. You needed to get some vegetables, and some seeds so you could plant.

Reluctantly, you sat the ring back down on its stand before thanking the stand worker for letting you try it on. You didn’t even notice the tall man who walked up, hood hiding his face as he buys the ring you had just tried on.

Moving down the path you search for the produce stand you had seen last market day, the older woman who ran the stand had been nice and had helped tell you which was best to plant when. You were hoping to talk to her again, gain more useful advice from her about planting.

And that’s exactly what you got; she even walked you home after she closed and packed up her table. She showed you the best places to plant certain vegetables, which soil usually worked best with each, and how much sunlight and water each one needed to grow their best. It was overwhelming, but you were smart to take notes as she spoke.

When the day was gone and night fell, you were ready to pass out. You were happy with what you got accomplished, a relatively new feeling that you haven’t experienced in years. You were getting ready for bed, the twin bed perfect for yourself and one or two of the stuffed animals you bought for comfort. You managed to pass out quickly, not even noticing the shell you had received that morning was no longer in your kitchen, but on your nightstand.

Featherlight touches. Soft lips trailing up your body. A weight on you as you relaxed into the sheets. Your dream was lifelike, the loving touches and breathless praises like music to your mind as you leaned into the touch.

“So beautiful, my love.” Another kiss placed in between your breasts, hands roaming the expanse of your thigh.

“Waited a long time for you, for this.” His lips moved down your stomach, kissing your pubic bone before diving into your pussy, his tongue licking a stripe up your cunt as you tried to close your thighs around his head. He let you, groaning at the taste and feeling of you and surrounding him.

“My love, it’s like you were made just for me.” His lips close around your clit, your back arching off the bed as your release coats his tongue, more moans and groans leaving his lips as his hands tighten around the top of your thighs.

His words were like music in your dream-like state, a siren in your head, dragging you deeper into the woes of pleasure as he leaves finger shaped bruises on the tops of your thighs.

Everything was hazy, the touch of him euphoric as he never stopped, orgasm after orgasm leaving your body. The feeling of his lips sucking marks into your skin left you breathless as his cock driving into your core left your seeing stars.

“I promise, my love, I will give you a better life. I will take you away from here. You will be happier with me.” His words whispered into your ear didn’t make sense, this was a dream, so why would your dream man say something like that?

You could feel him holding your left hand up, his fingers on yours and then a weight on your ring finger. You looked over and saw him kissing a ring on your finger, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

“I will see you soon, my love.”

Sunlight streaming through the window was your alarm, the warmth on your face a nice welcome to the colder weather you had been experiencing recently. You realized it was light though once you pushed your blankets off of you, the cold air nipping at your skin and making you rush for your sweats and sweater.

Your legs were a little wobbly as you moved, a little struggle on your part as you had to hold onto your dresser to try and find your clothes.. Once dressed in a large t-shirt that had been thrown haphazardly, you moved for your bathroom door only to stop in your tracks as you stared at yourself in the mirror you had hanging from the back of your door.

Your neck was littered in purple and blue bruises, different shades and sizes. As you pulled at the neck of your sweater, you saw the top of a couple more littering your collarbone. Your eyes were wide with shock as you stared at your reflection. You moved your hand back down, only for it to get caught in the light, your mind now noticing the ring you wore on your ring finger. The same exact ring you tried on at the little vendor yesterday.

“What the…” You spoke aloud, something you were known to do. Nothing made sense. It was just a dream. You had now completely forgotten your mission to find warm clothes.

You move to sit back down on your bed, hands slowly moving to the inside of your thighs, a grimace crossing your face as you feel the bruises, shaped like a handprint, on your inner thigh, right where the man held you down in your dream.

You could feel your heartbeat starting to pick up, the feeling in your neck creating a pattern for you to try and breath with. Someone was in your room. Someone did this to you when you thought you were dreaming.

You could vaguely hear someone knocking at your door. Your mind was playing tricks on you, that’s it, you thought. When you thought you gathered your bearings, you moved forward again, pushing past the mirror, not wanting your perceived illusion to be real.

The person at the door had stopped knocking but was instead trying to talk to you through the door.

“My love, I promise everything will be okay. Just let me in so we can talk.” The voice was the same from your dream, their words matching the man who spoke sweet praises in your ear.

You were frozen, your hand holding onto the wall of your small hallway for support. You couldn’t feel your legs nor could you hear anything else through the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears. You held your breath, hoping that the man wouldn’t notice you were still home. Hoping he would think you had already left for the morning.

“My love, I know you’re in there. I can smell you.” His voice had a singsong tone to it now, almost condescending or teasing.

You looked around your small home, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon, anything that could be used for protection. You held a hand over your mouth, hoping to stay quiet as you tried to step back into your room, where you knew you could get out through the large window over your bed.

The door knob startled to rattle as your door began to move against the doorjamb. “Please, baby. Don’t be afraid of me.” You could feel a tear slipping down your cheek, a hopefully quiet whimper leaving your lips as you bump into the wall just in front of your bedroom door. The front door opens just as you stand in the doorway to your room, the merman, now with human legs, stood there with a loving look in his eyes.

He looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

“Why are you trying to hide? I told you I would come back for you once I had everything ready?” He seemed genuinely curious, concern lacing his tongue as he moved inside, closing the door behind him.

He moved forward, your body bumping into your dresser and chair before finally landing against the wall as you tried to move away from him. He didn’t stop though, wanting to be as close to you as he could.

“I couldn’t stand to see you so sad that day. My heart hurt for you; my soul ached to be the one to make you smile again.” His words were soft, loving as he brought his hand up to caress your cheek, freezing for a second when he saw you flinch before continuing.

“I chose such soft kelp for our bed, and even wove together some seaweed for a blanket, knowing how much you love to cuddle underneath them.” He moved closer as he spoke, pressing against you and making you wince as you had to change your weight distribution, the ache between your legs becoming worse.

He noticed quickly, his hands moving from your cheeks to your legs, pushing them open as he pulled your underwear down, the large t-shirt being pushed up so he could look at your core. You tried to push him away but he moved to hold both of your hands in one of his own, his strength unparallel to what you would think.

“Shh my love.” He cooed, moving in to place a kiss on your mound, before spreading your folds and placing a kiss directly on your core. His cold lips had you jolting away in shock.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you. But I promise you will get used to it. I will love you every second of every hour.” He raises back up to his feet, something in his eyes changed as he looks down at you once again.

Before you can even scream his lips are on yours, your mind becomes hazy as your eyes begin to blur. He pulls away after a couple seconds, the smile on his face large as your sight gives way to the darkness.

-*-*-

Floating.

That’s the first thing that comes to your head when you open your eyes again. Either that or you were dead. The only light came from an opening in the dark about twenty feet from where you were. You tried to sit up, only to find that you were indeed floating in the water that surrounded you.

Your eyes widened in terror, wondering how the hell you were breathing. How you were even alive was completely unknown to you. You felt an arm wrap around your naked torso, looking down only to see your private areas covered in some sort of woven cloth.

“Good morning, my love.” The voice of the merman spoke from behind you, the arm around your torso tightening as he pulled you closer into him. You tried to hold in your sob, your hand moving to cover your mouth.

“I’m so happy you woke up. I can’t wait to show you around. I think you’ll especially love this little family of seahorses that live around the coral on the side of our cave.” He held onto you as he swam forward, no tail in sight as he helped you to the entrance. He noticed you looking at his legs, and spoke.

“Oh, don’t worry darling. My tail will come back after our mating period ends and will return after a couple of days. Us merpeople can change at will, only when mating comes into play.”

You really hate evolution.

There were hundreds of merpeople, dozens of caves on the bottom of this…ravine? There were families swimming along the bottom and up the top as the moved from cave to cave. Your heart was caught in your throat as you looked up, the sunlight peering down at you, mocking your exit.

“Isn’t it beautiful? You can’t go out yet, I wouldn’t want someone to snatch up my beautiful mate while in her mating cycle.” His smile reached his eyes making them appear closed as he pressed a quick kiss to your nose.

“Now come on, my love. I can already smell how ready you are again.” The man, you still haven’t learnt his name, moved his hand down to your core as he pulled you back into the darkness of the cave.

As your legs floated in front of you due to the momentum of him pulling you backwards, your legs opened enough for him to push two fingers in, the gasp leaving your lips loud and echoing.

He pulled them out just as quick, bringing them to his lips as he pushed you down on to the soft surface, moving to hover over you.

“You taste delicious baby. I’ve been waiting to taste you again.” He holds your legs open and places them over his shoulders as he moves in again, this time his tongue out to catch the slick dripping out of your core. You hated how turned on you were, the feeling unwanted but almost natural.

You moaned quietly as he licked at your clit, his plump lips doing wonders to your body.

“Please..” You whimper, not even knowing what you were asking for.

“Please what baby? What do you need?” You moan again, his words causing the knot in your stomach to form.

“I—” A moan leaves your lips again, cutting you off. You didn’t even realize your hands were now in his hair, pulling at the strands in pleasure.

“Jimin.”

“What?” You look down at him, the sight of him slurping and sucking at your core leaving you absolutely breathless.

“The name you want to moan out.” He answers with a sly smile on his lips, your slick dripping from his mouth, despite the water you were buried in.

“It’s the name you are going to be screaming out soon, my beautiful mate.”

And he was right, you were screaming out his name as you finally came on his tongue, his fingers rubbing the inside of your walls as he pumped in and out of you. You screamed his name as he thrusted in and out of you, his teeth in the crook of your neck as he came inside of you, his hot cum filling you and making the bulge in your stomach bigger.

Once he finished for the third time inside of you, he let you rest as your eyes closed. Sleep seemed to take over as he caressed your cheeks again, moving down to soothe the mark his teeth made on your neck when the light reflection from behind you caught his eye.

The same shell that started this rested on top of the rock he uses as a side table. The very shell that meant you accepted his courting when you chose it over all the others he brought you. He was so happy when you put it in the window, like a beacon of welcome for him to see. It was you letting him know you were ready for him.

He was so happy that day that he couldn’t wait to show you his love, choosing for the first time to stay on his human legs and watch over you. He bought the ring he saw you wearing, the sea opal calling out to him. He knew then and there it would be the perfect mating ring for you. It was made to fit your finger just as you were made for him.

The darkness consumed you once you passed out from exhaustion, but the light he saw in you would overcome everything, even the darkness of his own soul.

#bts #bts au #bts jimin au #bts jimin #park jimin #bts jimin one shot #mermaid jimin #mermaid au #jimin au #yandere jimin #jimin x reader #human reader #angst #hurt/comfort #bts hurt/comfort #bts soulmate #bts soulmate au #dark bts #purpleyoonn

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softguarnere · 8 months

Text

It Will Have Been Worth It

David Webster x reader

Soulmate!au in which the first words you ever hear your soulmate say appear on your skin when you turn thirteen

A/N: Out of everything I've ever written for this fandom, this fic has been one that has given me the most trouble. According to my notes, I started it on October 31st of last year 😬 None of my ideas for it felt right when I had them on paper, and I eventually just left it sitting in my drafts. Randomly got inspiration for it a few days ago, and now it's done! Better late than never, I guess A very special thank you to @brassknucklespeirs (welcome back babe, I missed you!!!!) and @liebgotts-lovergirl who both chatted with me about this fic last fall when I started it, and who both helped me with ideas all those months ago 💕 As usual, this is written for the fictional depictions from the tv show - no disrespect to the real life veterans! Warnings: alcohol, mentions of war, the author using every impressive high school vocab word she could possibly remember

Just because David has a large vocabulary doesn't mean that he's in total command of it at all times. Throwing around words that make other people furrow their brows as they try to ascertain what he means brings him some sense of satisfaction, but he also has a habit of flashing his arsenal of expressions when he's particularly nervous, hoping to throw off whoever has made him feel as if he's lost his footing. And when he's had a few drinks? Forget about it – all the words he once had at his disposal are suddenly either strung together to form nonsensical sentences or are nowhere to be found.

Is he pretentious? Perhaps, although he would argue that there's much more to the story. An elementary school teacher taking a liking to a poem he wrote when he was eight and exclaiming, "David, I think that you could be a great writer some day!" may have started him down that path, but he ultimately blames the words that appeared on his skin when he was thirteen.

He used to love looking at his parents’ soulmate tattoos. "What a lovely name" on his mother's wrist and "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet" on his father's. It always seemed so romantic to him, the thought that those had been the first words that his parents ever heard each other say, and that they got to flaunt those beautiful lines that they had given each other.

"If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it" appeared on the inside of his forearm on his thirteenth birthday. A beautiful line, really.

It's haunted him ever since.

"Make sure that you give your soulmate a tattoo that's just as pretty." His father had winked at him and slid him a piece of birthday cake – strawberry with vanilla buttercream frosting, he still remembers – unaware of the panic he had just set off in David's chest. Because that was the first time he had realized that, yes, he was responsible for giving his soulmate a poetic tattoo. His own is a beautiful turn of phrase. Whoever his soulmate is, they deserve a line that looks just as pretty on their own skin. It’s a duty that he comes to take very seriously.

Every person he meets, Webster makes sure to compose an amiable greeting for them, just in case. He’ll quote Shakespeare if he finds they’re particularly attractive, invoking his parents’ first meeting, since you never know. So what if some people push hard sighs through their nose whenever he opens his mouth to speak? He’s a student of literature; producing striking sentences is half of his job.

And, he reminds himself, one day he’ll find his soulmate, and he won’t have to worry about creating turns of phrase that are unequaled and unforgettable – except for his novels, of course. But whatever words he provides for his soulmate’s mark, he’s determined to make them as dazzling as the bright light thrown from a suncatcher on the clearest summer day.

. . .

It’s at seventeen that he learns that not everyone finds their soulmate. The library is quiet, save for the sounds coming from the diligent scratching of pencils, the turning of pages, and the soft breathing of focused students. He turns a page in his own book and is confronted with the staggering statistic that only twenty percent of people are recorded to find theirs.

“That’s less than one fourth of the population!” He exclaims to himself without meaning to, disrupting the tranquility of the study space and garnering several peeved looks for his outburst. A seemingly unnecessary one to everyone else, but justified in his own mind.

Twenty percent! He’s still aghast as he gathers his own books and escorts himself from the library. The cool breeze blowing through the late afternoon can’t even distract him from the train of thought that has now run off the rails, chugging along through his mind with no sign of stopping.

Because now, come to think of it, people get married all the time, soulmate tattoos or not. And there’s no law or anything stating that you have to marry your soulmate once you meet them; they’re simply the person who would be the best suited for you. You could go about your lives as nothing more than just friends – or worse, nothing at all, even if you did find each other.

To say that the conclusions reached that afternoon astound him would be an understatement of epic proportions. He’s never quite the same after that. But it doesn’t stop his extraordinary expressions.

. . .

War breaks out. He leaves college for the experience. He volunteers for the paratroopers because, even though they’re new, they’re the best. If he wants to write about war – or write anything good, really – he’ll have to get his hands dirty with experience so that the sentences that stain his pages can be clean, clear, concise, and indelible to his readers. Honestly, it’s not until he hears one of the other men in his company point out that the new migrations and travel opportunities given to them by the conflict may well improve their chances of finding their soulmates that he realizes that statistic he once read will soon be incorrect.

For a brief and terrifying moment, Webster – as he is now called amongst his fellow soldiers – thinks that maybe Joe Liebgott is his soulmate, and that he’s responsible for giving him a really awful line. Webster had made an offhanded comment about the quality of the eggs one morning at breakfast, and the Californian had given him such a perplexed look that Webster’s panic led him to believe that the cab driver must have “What do they season their eggs with around here? Sawdust?” somewhere on his person, and that the reason he remained so quiet around him was due to not wanting Webster to hear him speak so that they would never know if they were actually soulmates. Luckily those fears had been laid to rest when Webster caught a glimpse of the words “Cabbie, if you drive any faster, I think the car will start flying” on his leg during a run up Currahee. It turned out that he simply didn’t agree with Webster’s observations on the quality of the eggs. Still, Webster remembers to be more careful with his words.

When he can be, actually. Which is not when he’s been drinking.

The British pub is loud with the sounds of servicemen singing and laughing well into the night. The general consensus that they’re finally going to be thrust into combat soon has filled many men with a renewed zest for life, and from the sounds and sights all around, people are relishing the nights like these while they can. And who can blame them?

“What did they even teach you at Harvard?” Hoobler wants to know as Webster downs a shot. “I mean, as a literature major, and all.”

“Is it just reading?” Skinny Sisk questions. “’Cause if so, then anyone with a library card can probably get a degree.”

Webster purses his lips, his glass returning to the table with a harsh slam that announces the displeasure that he’s trying to keep out of his voice. “Ha ha ha. Very funny.”

“I was being serious,” Hoobler clarifies. “You know, just out of curiosity, and all.”

“How do you even use a literature degree?” The conversation has caught the attention of Joe Toye and George Luz at the next table, and they turn to join Webster, Hoobler, and Sisk, suddenly very interested in the academic intricacies of studying literature.

“Well, I’m studying literature because I want to be a writer,” Webster admits.

“And write about what?”

Webster makes a vague gesture, trying to encapsulate their environment, the lives they’ve lived since enlisting, the world itself – everything. “War,” he says instead, an understatement.

“Hey!” Luz says brightly. “You could review books. There’s an idea.”

Toye cocks an eyebrow. “Is there money in that?”

“You could review Hitler’s book,” Luz continues. “Really tear it apart on it’s word choices, and all that.”

“Hitler can read? Who knew!” Skinny asks, making everyone laugh.

“What do you think he even would read? In all his spare time, I mean, when he’s not invading countries and forcing men like us out of our homes to come and stop him.”

All eyes immediately turn to Webster, expectantly awaiting an answer. The literature student freezes with a bottle of beer halfway to his lips.

“What?” He asks.

“It was a question, Professor,” Toye says. “You gonna answer it?”

“You were serious?”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

Despite himself, Webster can feel his eyebrows shoot up, betraying his surprise. “How would I know?”

“Well, in your expert opinion,” Luz suggests.

Skinny nudges Hoobler. “He just doesn’t want to admit that he doesn’t know.”

Heat rushes to Webster’s face, and it’s not entirely from the warm glow of the alcohol. If it weren’t for the dim lighting of the pub, the tips of his ears would probably be glowing a bright pink with his ignominy.

“They didn’t teach me that at Harvard,” he says.

Hoobler smirks. “Uh huh. Sure.”

“Awe, come on!” Webster exclaims. “I’m just trying to fight a war. I am not prepared to make speculations about Hitler’s literary preferences!”

“Excuse me,” a new, much sweeter voice cuts in. At once, all the men’s defenses are down as they turn to see two prepossessing women standing at the edge of their group. They look familiar, somehow, and if it weren’t for the dim lighting and the alcohol, Webster would swear that he’s seen them in passing before. “Hi, I’m Evelyn, and this is my friend (Y/N).”

The second woman, seemingly a little shyer, offers them a small wave and a smile as her friend takes the lead. Perhaps it’s the darkness playing tricks on Webster’s eyes, but he could swear that she’s looking at him, and that she suddenly looks a little fidgety as the introduction goes on.

“We’re with the Red Cross,” Evelyn continues, her words providing explanation as to her familiarity. Then, implausibly, she fixes her gaze directly on Webster. “(Y/N) here has been watching you for a while, so I decided it was high time that we came over and introduced ourselves.” She leaves the obvious unspoken – because war is an uncertain thing and it’s better to die with no regrets than to always wonder what could have been.

Me?! The other paratrooper’s eyes flick between (Y/N) and Webster as he stands, his friends struck with the same sense of wonder. With Skinny or Tab, this sort of scene is not infrequent, but nothing of the sort has happened to Webster – if he’s being completely honest, not even in college.

He clears his throat. So focused on willing his hands not to feel sweaty through sheer force of will, Webster extends his for a shake, not even bothering to watch his words.

“Hello. I’m David Webster,” he says, noticing how soft your hand is in his. “It’s nice to meet you.”

You beam at him. “If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it.”

He freezes. Behind him, he can feel his friends tense up as well. “Oh my God,” he whispers, for it’s all he can do. The words that he’s been waiting his entire life to hear have just come out of your mouth – and he’s just recited what must be the blandest line in the history of soulmate tattoos!

Webster rolls up his shirt sleeve and reveals his tattoo, the beautiful line staring up at him in confirmation. Air vacates his lungs, leaving him breathless as his heart pounds in his chest.

You begin to roll up your own sleeve, and Webster winces at the anticipation of seeing his introduction on your arm. But when the ink on your arm is exposed, you glance up at him, something like a smirk playing at your lips.

“Oh my God,” Webster says again, wanting to kick himself, and for a completely different reason this time.

“It was the first thing that I ever heard you say,” you tell him.

Evelyn gasps, then slaps a hand over her mouth, though it does no good to contain the giggles that still pour out. The other Easy Company men crowd around, trying to catch a glimpse of your arm.

There in the pub, in front of everyone, the first words that you, Webster’s soulmate, ever heard come out of his mouth stain your arm, making several people laugh: I’m just trying to fight a war. I am not prepared to make speculations about Hitler’s literary preferences!

At least now he doesn’t have to waste the rest of his life being so cautious with his words.

#david webster #david webster x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x reader #soulmate au #my writing

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