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steele-soulmate · 3 months

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Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 579, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death, abandoned baby, child intoxication, death of a minor character

WORDS: 1153

For the next week, there were family members and friends who stopped by to offer condolences and to offer help around the house- my brothers and their families, Jackie and her yummy cooking packed away nice and neatly in Tupperware containers, Peter’s sisters and nieces with their sweet, comforting words of reassurances and quick to offer help with tending to the house, Ken Anderson with little edits and additions to his latest musical, which was set to open this next October thirty first, James and Aaron bringing little girl over to see her Papa Pete, Mama Wen Wen and cousins.

And don’t get me wrong- I was always thankful for more help around the house after the unexpected death of my baby sister. The medical report came back and her cause of death had been officially ruled as her body giving up after the mass in her head had shrunk enough.

I had gone in and announced Sammi’s untimely passing onto her Instagram and deactivated her OnlyFans, stating that I would take down her Instagram in a week. The comments were quickly filled with goodbyes to Sammi Heart and good wishes for her on the other side. I also had the feeling that Baby Noah’s father would try to seize full custody of his son from Peter and I, leading me to teaching Baby Noah our phone numbers and me becoming even more overprotective of my nephew than I already was.

I would mostly spend my time either in bed surrounded by pillows and blankets or in my office working on my autobiography or in the kitchen baking bread. I didn’t have very much energy, and aside from sweet snuggles and chaste kisses while out in public view

And sure enough, Governor Paul Thomas Grantsville sent a lawyer over to our house to serve Peter and I for full custody of his son. Peter had went outside onto the porch with a copies of Sammi’s will with included the ironclad custody paperwork for Baby Noah. Peter had already changed the little man’s last name to Ratajczyk before putting him onto his medical insurance. After showing him everything, the visiting lawyer took the summons that he had been sent to deliver and ripped it in half before leaving.

“I’ll give this to the governor to review,” he said in an apologetic tone of voice before leaving the premise.

But still I had the overwhelming feeling that the pathetic little slimeball would not rest until he had my nephew in his slimy little paws. And so if Baby Noah wasn’t in my line of sight, then he was with Peter and no one else. As much as I trusted Elizabeth and Katie, I honestly wasn’t comfortable with having the two be in charge of the bubbly little man with such a nasty human being out and about.

Elizabeth and Katie both started up school ONCE MORE at Saint Micheals, Elizabeth with her steampunk inspired attire and warm hats to keep her bald little head warm and Katie with her brightly colored converse hi tops and embroidered jeans. After dropping them off at school, Peter and I would take the babies to the park to let off some energy or pay a visit to the Cookie Place Inc. for cookies and ice cream before returning to Saint Micheal’s to pick up the girls again and reunite them with their beloved American Girl dollies.

I had caught Elizabeth stretching in her bedroom one night when I went to call her down for dinner.

“Can I join you?” I asked her, entering at her invitation and plopping down to go into a gentle straddle and reaching out to grab hold of my right foot. “What got you interested in stretching?”

Before she could answer me, Baby Tommy, little girl and Baby Noah toddled into the room and joined us, engaging in gentle baby yoga.

“Mommy, can I take ballet again?” she asked me.

“I have no objection to it,” I answered her. “Why do you ask?”

“I kind of want to dip my toes into acting on stage,” she confessed with a shrug of her shoulders. “I want to be just like you.”

I want to be just like you.

I couldn’t fight to pleased smile from growing across my befreckled face as I looked at my daughter.

She had been overjoyed at receiving the wig from his sister’s and her sisters’ friends’ hair, her father spending time after dinner one night teaching her how to draw on eyebrows. Now, Elizabeth stepped with even more confidence in her walk and her smile reached areas of her face that I never noticed before.

“Well, do you want to return to the studio you were going to before?” I asked her.

“Where did you go, mommy?” she asked as little girl and Baby Tommy began to pull the other over chubby little leg straddled together by the foot. Baby Tommy was in a baby split, feet barely even apart from each other.

“I went to a small studio three blocks away from my house,” I told her with a frown. “It was destroyed in a fire when I was fourteen and the building was torn down and the property sold to the city and made into a part of a park.”

“Oh,” she answered, deflating dramatically at my brief tale.

“But I do think my old ballet teacher’s daughter teaches now,” I continued on. “Let me look her up and see if she’s in the area, okay?”

She beamed brightly at me, restoring my faith in happiness.

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@ch3rry-c01a

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 2

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village

Rating: T for language and mild medical drama

Warnings: Typical Vampire shenanigans

Genre: Hurt + comfort

Summary: Bela is somewhat unprepared to deal with a soulmate who has no clue about her condition, her family, or any of the village's secrets. Thankfully, her sister Cassandra is more than willing to be a bad example. Also there's some fluff.

Notes: For reference, each of my soulmate stories take place in their own contained timeline, since they each involve different types of soulmates. So in this one, Cass doesn't currently have a soulmate.

Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow

2: Tangled Strands

A gentle humming fills the space around you, as fingers slowly run through your hair. As far as you can tell you had fallen back asleep, for several hours, and you were just now waking back up. No longer holding you down, your soulmate is curled up next to you. There’s still a needle in your arm, much to your irritation, but now you can finally see what it’s connected to: An IV for a transfusion. Explains why I’m feeling so much better than before, you think. Then you’re turning your head to the other side, eager to finally get a good look at your soulmate. Instantly you’re blushing, tongue tying itself into a knot, because wow are you lucky.

“Feeling any better?” She asked, as soon as your gaze met hers. You try to stutter out a confirmation, but you’re too distracted by the soft curve of her smile to speak, and barely even manage a nod. That beautiful smile grows wider in response. “Good. I couldn’t stand the thought of you suffering more, after what you’ve already been through.” Now her smile fades, and she looks away for a few moments. Watching it makes your heart ache. So you swallow the lump in your throat, willing yourself to relax, before trying a little comforting of your own.

“I am safe now, am I not? Moreso, we have too much to talk about for us to dwell on the ill circumstances of our introduction. Let us cherish this time, in respite, with our hearts open wide to one another,” you said, donning your softest smile. Somehow your words fulfill their purpose, and your soulmate is once again grinning. Slowly she leans forward to rest her forehead against yours. Then she’s speaking, voice as smooth as the sheets you lay on.

“You are right, of course. I simply wish I could have saved you sooner,” she replied, tone betraying the sadness that her expression otherwise hid. Before you can protest, she continues talking, and you soon forget all about your qualms. “To think I don’t even know your name yet… nor you mine, I suppose. Let’s remedy that, yes? I am Bela Dimitrescu.” Something about her last name feels familiar to you, but not to the point of clear recognition. Instead of inquiring, you return her favor, giving her your own name. She repeats it back a few times, letting the syllables roll off her tongue, and you feel your heart skip a few beats. “A lovely name for a lovely soul, perfectly paired.”

A pause, followed by Bela reaching out to examine your IV. Following her gaze, you turn to the metal hook adjacent to the bed, where a blood bag hangs. Only a few drops remain inside. Just as when you first awoke, Bela gives a soft hum, then rises into a sitting position. Your first instinct is to copy the motion, and you’re relieved when (this time) she doesn’t push you back down. Both of you quietly inch your hands closer until they’re laid on top of each other.

“I wish I knew more about medicine, but unfortunately my family is more experienced in the creation of wounds than the treatment of them,” Bela said, scowling. Confused, you tilt your head at a slight angle, watching her with interest. Am I supposed to know who she’s referring to? My memories of the past couple days are still hazy, you think. “Do… do you remember how you ended up in the dungeon? I know you wanted to speak of happier things, and we can, soon. It’s just… Knowing how you arrived here may help me deal with the consequences of freeing you. Mother will be dreadfully upset that I’ve interrupted a draining, even if we are soulmates.”

“Wait, are you saying…? The intimidating giantess who strung me up and attempted to bleed me dry… is your mother?” You asked, jaw nearly dropping to the floor. This was an unexpected development, for sure.

“You didn’t know?” Bela replied, eyes going wide for a moment. Clearly she wouldn’t have said anything if she realized you weren’t already aware. Suddenly the tension in the room is palpable, with an uncomfortable silence overtaking the two of you. In the moment, you cannot even bring yourself to look at Bela, too stunned by this new knowledge. Eventually she breaks the silence, voice sounding unsure for once. “I realize that this is a lot to take in, if you need time to process it, I… I can go. But you need to understand that our situation is far more complicated than it might appear. We cannot survive without the blood of others- it is what sustains us when nothing else can.”

Now you’re staring at her like she’s crazy, and she’s standing up, moving to the other side of the room. She draws back a curtain, gazing out into the snow covered hills. Every muscle in your body is urging you to run while she’s distracted. Thread of fate be damned, this went far beyond anything you had ever imagined having to deal with. You come so close to ripping the IV right out of your arm. But a gentle tug on your soul string makes you pause, remembering all the times this bond gave you hope in dark times. Had she felt the same way, all these years? What had she gone through, in this absurd castle, on the very edges of civilization? You pull on the red thread, feeling a wave of composure wash over you.

“It appears there is much I need to learn. But is that not the very nature of our connection? We know, simply, that we are bound to each other, though we know not what shapes our souls take so that we might put them together, nor even what roles we must play. I cannot say that I understand your plight, my dear, but I will try, as is my obligation, and my honor,” you said, wishing you could hold her, and cursing your IV. As soon as the first word leaves your mouth, Bela is turning around, watching you with a bittersweet expression. Once you’re done she’s moving closer, as if reading your mind, extending a hand to cup your cheek. Then she leans forward to press a brief kiss to your forehead. “Oh, how I have longed for this- to be with you, to get to know you.”

“As did I,” she murmured. You can’t help but lean into her touch, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment. “Perhaps I should introduce you to my family? I imagine you’ll be needing breakfast anyway, and bringing human food back to my quarters would raise more suspicion than I’d like.” Well, the moment couldn’t last forever, could it?

“Only if you promise that your mother won’t suspend me by my wrists again. Or by any other part of me. Shall we simply put suspension off the table altogether?” You asked, half teasing. To be entirely honest, you were equally worried about Bela’s sisters. Well, the people you had heard other prisoners whispering about, who were the daughters of the giantess, and by connecting a few dots were also, presumably, Bela’s sisters. Apparently they preferred to play with their food. Unless, of course, Bela was one of the daughters you had heard about, and would have easily torn into you if not for your connection. Let’s not dwell on that concept, you think, glad to be distracted by your soulmate.

“I will not let anyone harm you anymore, my beloved. My mother would not stand so firmly in the way of my happiness,” Bela reassured, though you detected a hint of uncertainty in her tone. Still, there wasn’t much you could do other than trust her. “Now, let me take care of your bandages, then we’ll head downstairs…”

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

“Who the fuck is this?” An unfamiliar voice asked, as you meandered down the corridor, arm around Bela for support. As soon as she hears the person speak, your soulmate is freezing in place, casting a worried glance over her shoulder. When you turn as well, you spot someone dressed almost identically to Bela. However, the woman wears a yellow pendant, as opposed to a red one, and her hair is a dark brown. It feels safe to assume that she’s one of the sisters you’ve heard about. Which understandably makes you nervous, to the point where you almost want to hide behind Bela. Instead, you stand tall, attempting to seem unfazed by either her presence or her vulgarity.

“Mind your manners, Cassandra,” Bela hissed, taking more of an aggressive stance than you had anticipated. “This, dear sister, is my soulmate. And if you even think about harming them, or getting in our way, I will tear you apart.” While you’re downright shocked at the intensity of Bela’s statement, her sister doesn’t look at all impressed, and eyes you with minimal interest. Better than looking at you with hatred, right? Apparently not, as Bela moves to stand between the two of you, eyes narrowed. There’s a clear stiffness in her posture that leaves you anxious. Cassandra seems to notice it as well, and laughs, before taking a few steps in your direction. Then your soulmate mimics the movement, forcing you to do so as well.

“They’re human,” Cassandra snapped, pausing to sniff the air and scowl. “Here I thought your soulmate would have to be special, if they’re to compare to your ego. You’re disappointed, aren’t you? Having to settle for this.” With that she shifts, flesh writhing, making your stomach churn as you watch her disintegrate into a cloud of… flies? What the hell is wrong with this family? Can Bela do that too? I hope not, you think. Soon you’re pulled from your thoughts, however, as the swarm circles around you, single insects occasionally surging forward to cut at your skin. But Bela is grabbing you by the sleeve and tugging you to her chest, moving against a wall so that her body shielded your own. Your eyes clamp shut as you shake in her arms. When the buzzing stops, it is quickly replaced with cruel laughter. “That fragile, hmm? I can’t wait to see what mother thinks. See you at breakfast, sister!”

Then the two of you are alone, still pressed against the wall, staying still until the sound of footsteps fade. You’re stunned, unsure of how to react. The fact that a few drops of blood roll down your cheek only makes things worse. Still, Bela managed to prevent you from getting too hurt, and the few wounds on your body are negligible. Ever filled with gratitude, you hold her close as you try to stutter out a few sentences.

“Is she always this hostile, or am I truly not what you had expected? No, pay me no mind, it hardly matters. Thank you for protecting me,” you whispered. In response, Bela gives you a little squeeze, then pulls back enough to wipe the blood from your face. There’s a hint of something odd in her expression, which you interpret to be related to her apparent ‘need for blood’. Thankfully, she is in perfect control, and does not frenzy the same way you had read about fictional vampires doing. But she does hesitate, words dying on her tongue, like there are a thousand things she wants to say, and no words to say them with. “It’s alright, my dear. Let’s just go to breakfast, like we planned, and hope your sister behaves better when supervised.”

Bela nods, quickly, before taking your hand in her own. Whatever awaited you in the dining room, the two of you would be ready. Hopefully.

#babe why aren't you this nice to ME #bela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #soulmate au #imagine bela's soulmate meeting cassandra's #they'd be very unlikely friends #cassandra would HATE how well behaved her soulmate would be #like #tumblr keeps rearranging the order of my tags???#I'll fix that later

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fanfic-corner · 3 years

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Tumblrversary - 21st June 2021

It's official: I've been on this cursed site as this blog for a full year now. I'm not sure what exactly I've gained from the experience, other than more new friends than I can count and whatever the fuck November 5th had going on. Anyway, this is every single thing (of note) I've posted this year for you to peruse at your leisure, but mostly so my dumb ass can find it later :)

Destiel fic recs

My all time favourites

Alternate Universes

Apocalypse/Dystopia AU

Cafe AU

College/Uni AU

Soulmate AU / pt 2

Word Count

Under 2,000 words

Under 10,000 words / pt 2

Episode Specific Fics

15x18 Fics

15x19 Fics

15x20 Fics

Other Ships

Sabriel

Holidays

Halloween

Christmas / pt 2

New Year's

Sexualities

Asexuality and other a-spec identities

Bisexual Dean

Tropes

Bed Sharing

Case Fics

Established Relationship

Major Character Death

Slow Burn

John Winchester is an Asshole

Writer!Castiel

Wattpad

Fluff

Other fic recs

Ineffable Husbands

Natsby

Professor Layton

Cockles

A-Spec Across Fandoms

My writing

After (634 words) - AO3

Dean Winchester was dead.

You Only Live Once (1,238 words) - AO3

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replied, his frown matching Sam’s. “What are you doing up?”

“I’m allowed to leave my bed, guys.” Dean pouted, plopping himself safely out of spaghetti splatter range. “I’m only dying. It’s no biggie.”

Heaven's Honeysuckle (2,591 words) - AO3

Dean is only meant to pick up the flowers for his brother's wedding, but the kind man with the blue eyes who works there keeps dragging him back to the small shop.

'I love you' (420 words) - AO3

"I love you."

Dean just stares at him.

All Alright (1,403 words) - AO3

Two people die every second. It was a fact Dean had learnt many years ago, from some shitty game show on some crappy motel room tv. Two people die every second, and Dean couldn’t help but feel like they were always people he knew.

A State of Normal (457 words) - AO3

Slowly, life returned to a state of normal that Dean hardly recognised.

Forever Intertwined (358 words) - AO3

Castiel was no longer an angel of the Lord. He did not have the power to grip anyone tight and raise them from perdition. In fact, for all intents and purposes, he was human.

That didn’t mean that there wasn’t anything he could do while he waited for his love.

nothing ever really ends, does it? (3,397 words) - AO3

Five different endings to Supernatural, because they deserved better. Each one is self-contained, and they are all varying lengths.

Darling, So It Goes (4,652 words) - AO3 / post

When Dean gets asked to be Santa for Jody and Donna's Christmas party, he does not expect it to end with a litre of chocolate milk over a homophobe's head, but he is all too eager to help out a man in need.

Wrapped in Red (7,265 words) - AO3 / post

New at being human, Castiel doesn't know a lot about Christmas traditions, but when a case involves them infiltrating a couple's only Christmas party, Cas wants the full experience.

Including mistletoe.

5 Birthdays Dean Had Without His Angel, and the One With (1,516 words) - AO3 / podfic / post

Six different January 24ths, and how Dean celebrated.

Who We Are (17,331 words) - AO3 / post

It was supposed to be easy: barge into the Empty, rescue Cas, confess his love, be back in time for dinner.

The man Dean rescued was not the Cas he knew.

Suez, My Beloved <3 (507 words) - AO3 / podfic by mistbornhero / post

There has been too much calm in the world.

Season 16, Time For A Wedding! (12,332 words) - AO3 / post

Dean and Castiel are inviting you to share in their celebration of marriage.

+ Dinner and reception after!

Whoever wasn't expecting chaos had clearly never met the Winchesters.

Gay or European ( ADD LATER ) - AO3 / post

When the British contestant for this year's Eurovision Song Contest is suddenly out of the competition, it's left to four Americans and their Irish friend to take the microphone.

Paige, their manager, has not packed nearly enough painkillers for the chaos this trip will cause.

death may love you more ( ADD LATER) - AO3

On a hunt gone wrong, Dean finds himself possessed by an old enemy of the Winchesters. Bela is out for revenge, and she is hell bent on ruining Dean's life through any means possible.

If that means breaking the angel's heart, then, well...

Tumblr Ficlets

Don't Mention It

23 (for an ask game)

Supernatural: The End

"You love her, don't you?" (Thasmin)

Podfics

Building the Michael Sword: Some Assembly Required (10 minutes)

Castiel gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition, everybody and their mother knows that. What is less well-known, however, is that he was also responsible for re-assembling the body.

Which he did with all the grace and patience of a man putting together a particularly difficult IKEA bunk bed.

The Tea is Decaf (25 minutes)

Based on this text post from thebloggerbloggerfun: "Listen, imagine Eileen sneaking out of Sam’s room at night to go to the bathroom or something and steps out into the hallway in one of Sam’s shirts only to see Cas trying to quietly leave Dean’s room while wearing one of Dean’s shirts and they both just stare at each other awkwardly for a few seconds before trying to muffle quiet laughter and now they have a late night club where they talk about life and gossip about the Winchesters in sign language"

And this anon I received: "what if Eileen and Cas discover there are some things Sam and Dean both do in bed because Dean jokingly gave Sam pointers when they were younger and Sam took the advice"

#supernatural #masterpost #my writing #destiel #i just. fuckin. forgot to post this oops-

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

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Hi! Can i have some angst and fluff? soulmate AU where Rung, Drift, Rodimus and Swerve´s soulmate rejects them and some time later after the Lost light launch, (not human) Alien joins the Lost Light and their soulmate is the bot in question? And they would love to pamper them to pieces but are understanding of the situation. Thanks! (Also sorry for my bad English)

It just occurred to me... I've never really done anything with soulmates before! I think I get the basics of your request though, so here it goes! (Don't worry, your English is fine!)

Rung

·Being rejected by the one he'd supposedly been intended to spend eternity with had cut him to his core. In his spark, he'd taken it as a sign he was indeed forgettable, perhaps doomed to be alone and insignificant for the rest of his days. After all, if his soulmate didn't want him, who would? He'd buried the pain like so many others for eons afterwards. Every time someone got his name wrong though, he'd think back to that rejection. What could possibly be so wrong with him, that no one could remember he was there? Was he truly so unremarkable?

·You had joined the Lost Light more or less on a whim, with the hope of meeting your soulmate always at the back of your mind. In such a massive universe, perhaps you needed to look for them instead of hoping they'd come for you. It had been almost comedic when you'd run into the shy phsychiatrist and realized he was the one on your first day. Rung had been shocked at the revelation, but quickly became quiet and almost... grieved. At your gentle prompting he'd softly explained what had happened to him, and you'd been heartbroken for his sake. Though wanting so badly to commit to him right there, you'd made it clear you understood, especially when he explained he just wanted time. He certainly didn't want you to think he was rejecting you.

·Thus, things had proceeded slowly. While you wanted so badly to jump into a relationship, having him beside you as you got to know him was enough for now. Just seeing your willingness to get to know him had brought about a slow change in the timid mech. Every day he got a little brighter, as if his optics shone with greater zeal at your continued presence. Truthfully it hurt to see how little he cared for himself. Yet, by being there day after day, you slowly brought him around to the idea he was more than memorable. To you, he was unforgettable.

Drift

·His rejection had occurred, quite painfully, not long after he'd changed his ways. The loss of his soulmate at that time had nearly sent him into a spiral. What greater clue could the universe give him that he was irredeemable? Their rejection surely meant he was doomed to be alone, for even if he had friends, he'd never have the love he'd dreamed of his whole life. Eventually he'd accepted it only under the misguided belief that such pain was a part of his "penance", and that he surely deserved it for everything he'd done.

·You'd been on the Lost Light a little while before meeting Drift, but knew him by reputation already when you had your first encounter, one that surprised you for multiple reasons. First was that anyone could have anything against the bright and happy bot you were surprised to learn was the "evil" former Decepticon everyone warned you about. Second, to the greatest of shocks, was that he was your soulmate. Your delight had only been tarnished by his expression of pain at the revelation, and after leading you somewhere private he'd shared his story, including how he couldn't possibly deserve love after everything he'd been through. Surely you deserved better...

·Even having only just met him, you'd been certain that Drift didn't deserve the self admonishment he was giving himself. Refusing to let him tear himself down but understanding of his trauma, you made it clear you wouldn't rush but wanted to spend time with him regardless. Wanting to continue his self imposed exclusion but too lonely to refuse you, he accepts on the grounds you start as friends, and while you want so badly to shower him with affection you accept. It's only by going slowly that you begin to open him up to the idea of love again, convincing him bit by bit that he can indeed be forgiven and cherished as he deserves. Time and patience slowly heal his wounds thanks to you.

Rodimus

·Not a stranger to pain, Rodimus nevertheless doubted any agony had ever cut as close as the dismissal from his soulmate, and the blow to his confidence still lingers with striking intensity. If he cared to reflect on the pain, he'd see the gaping hole in his self confidence comes largely from the untended trauma of the rejection. Instead he's simply given up on finding love and chooses to seek other ways to heal, but as he doesn't address the initial cause of his pain, none of his considerable accomplishments quell the agony. Eventually he begins to accept that nothing will make him feel whole again.

·Though you'd of course heard of the Lost Light and it's now famous captain, it hadn't been until you were actually on the ship itself for a few weeks that you'd met him. He'd immediately proven himself to be an energetic, likable bot with a lot of personality, and you'd been beyond happy when he'd proven to be your soulmate. Said happiness had been put on hold at his expression of pain upon hearing the news, but he'd quickly put a smile back on until the two of you were alone together. Breaking down in private, he'd told you of his soulmate and how he had never been able to make up for being such a failure they never wanted him. Having only just met him, you're fast to reassure Rodimus that he's anything but a failure, and that you already can see that even if they couldn't. It takes time, but soon you convince him to open his spark again and give you a chance.

·With the pain of old injuries still so tender, he's slow to let you in. At first he seems to believe you'll abandon him at any moment, or for even the smallest transgressions. It's only with a great deal of reasurance you convince him you're here to stay. The love you show him begins to also make him believe he's worth something once more, and he starts to see all he's accomplished as something to celebrate. Every day there's progress, and while it's hard for you at times, seeing him come around to realize his own self worth is all it takes to convince you to keep going.

Swerve

·Always having had a hard time making friends, he'd long looked forward to meeting his soulmate, having believed that upon doing so the loneliness he'd endured would finally be over. Their rejection had shattered that dream along with any hope he had of ever knowing what it was to belong. After recovering just enough to keep going, he'd put on a happy mask in the aftermath, hoping that if he convinced others he was okay he might convince himself. It never worked, not really. Others did indeed see him as the happy goofball, but he never forgot the pain of that horrible day. Often he wondered if he might as well just give up...

·Upon taking a chance and joining the Lost Light, you'd been overwhelmed by the rush of friend groups so well established you wondered how you'd ever fit in. Thankfully there had been a few helpful bots to suggest you hit the bar and talk to Swerve, as he knew everyone and could steer you in the right direction. You'd found the chat happy barkeep to be a delight straight away, which had only made you that much happier to find he was your soulmate, as you'd always wanted someone with an appreciation for the happier things. It had made you so terribly sad to see him break down in the back of the bar, his tears pouring forth just as readily as the story of his long ago rejection and how he doubted you wanted him considering what he was under his happy mask. You'd gone straight to comforting the minibot. Regardless of his past, you assured him, you at least wanted to get to know the bot everyone on the Lost Light considered their favorite. Perhaps it was foolish of him, but you'd indeed struck a tiny bit of hope remaining in his spark. He simply couldn't say no altogether.

·Bit by bit, you encouraged him to see the worth you knew he had. The bot who tended the bar was the heart of the ship in your eyes, and though you wanted so badly to love him and be loved back, for now you were content getting him to see the truth. Your tireless enthusiasm at first just baffled him. What could he have possibly done to deserve a second chance with someone so wonderful and supportive? It wasn't until some time had passed that he realized you were indeed having an impact on him. Slowly he began to see himself as someone worth knowing, and others began to happily notice the improvement as well. Eventually Swerve began to realize that no one was just humoring him, as he'd long feared, but that he was indeed a beloved crew member. Your patience finally made him see beyond the initial pain, and into a genuinely happy future.

#rung #drift #rodimus prime #swerve #transformers #maccadam #lostlight #lost light #idw #tf #ll #my writing #my asks #requests #soulmates #rung x reader #drift x reader #rodimus x reader #swerve x reader

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dudeandduchess · 3 years

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Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Gravitation (Angst + Fluff, Modern AU, SFW Scenario)

Summary: (Y/n) is a foreigner living in Japan, but she feels like she’s never fit in. So, that cements her decision to go back to her home country, in the hopes of finding what it is that’s making her want to go back there in the first place. All at the cost of her relationship with Kyōjurō. But true love prevails, and she finds herself gravitating back to him.

Note: This is another commission from @anpanbe, and it’s so crazy that you commissioned me again, Bean. Thank you soooooooo much! I really, really appreciate you comissioning me so I can watch Mugen Train. 😭❤️

Warning: Angst with Happy Ending

***

The ring tucked away in Kyōjurō’s back pocket practically burned a hole where it was pressed up against the fabric of his pants. He was so extremely nervous about the date that he’d set with (Y/n), since he had gone all out with reserving the most romantic table at the restaurant where they’d had their first date.

It was a little bit of a splurge, but cost didn’t matter to him— because he wanted nothing more than to give his beloved the best of everything.

That, and he was planning to propose that night.

However, throughout the entire meal, she had been quiet. She would look up at him every once in a while, and then let her eyes flicker back down to her food— as if something was extremely wrong. He’d tried to ask once, but the waiter had arrived too soon with their appetizers— which had taken away his chance at asking.

Kyōjurō wasn’t dense, though; he could feel that something was weighing heavily on (Y/n)’s mind, and it was also evident in the way that she had only smiled once at him during their meal.

As they were taking idle sips of their wine, his gaze focused entirely on her beautiful face; admiring the warm lights illuminated her skin, giving it such an ethereal glow that had his heart skipping a beat.

She was as beautiful as she had been on the day that he’d met her; all because she’d gotten lost by the school he worked at, and had stopped him to ask for directions to the nearest train station.

It turned out that she didn’t live too far away from there, and they had constantly bumped into each other during the mornings. And their love story had started from there— going on almost a year at that point, which had him sure that she was the one that she wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

‘If you know, you just know that someone’s the one for you.’ The memory of him telling his younger brother those words had a smile tugging up at the corners of his lips, as he let go of his wine glass and slowly slid his hand on top of (Y/n)’s.

He then began caressing the back of her hand with the pad of his thumb, swallowing past the lump in his throat as he tilted his head a little to see her expression, as she looked out of the panoramic window and down at the city beneath them.

“(Y/n)? What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” Kyōjurō asked, with a playful smile lighting up his features.

When all he got was silence, however, his heart began to race even faster in his tight chest— all for the wrong reasons. Especially when (Y/n) curled her hand up into a fist and slowly retracted it from his touch.

“(Y/n)?”

A brief silence passed between the couple then, only to be cut off when the young woman sighed deeply— brokenly. And when she looked right at her lover, the unmistakable sight of tears glistening in her eyes had Kyōjurō’s heart breaking inside his chest.

It was as if he couldn’t breathe; and even when he tried to catch her hand before she pulled it to her lap, he had narrowly missed— brushing against her cold fingertips instead.

“I’m so sorry, Kyōjurō.” The use of his full name came as a shock to the young man. It hadn’t been said in her playful tone, nor was it said with anything other than sadness.

His heart broke even more, and he knew then and there… that it was over.

Tears pricked the backs of his eyes then, and a helpless huff of breath escaped his lips as he shook his head— partly in disbelief, and partly because he was at a complete loss for words. Not even trying to blink them away, nor pinching the bridge of his nose could get them to go away.

And before he knew it, the first tear had already rolled down his cheek— which was immediately followed by another, and another… until he was stuck biting down on his bottom lip to keep his sobs in, as he felt like his entire world was crumbling beneath his feet.

Finally though, he had found his voice— albeit hoarse and broken, “Did I do something wrong, (Y/n)? Was I… was I too much? I can-” Another breathy and tearful sigh passed his lips, but he pushed past the tightness in his chest as he added, “I can change, I promise. Just please… don’t leave me.”

Then, in a much quieter voice, the blond whispered, “I’ve already built my entire world around you. Please…”

(Y/n) couldn’t even look at him for longer than a few seconds, because the sight of him breaking down in tears was such a heartbreaking feat that it made her sick to her stomach; especially knowing that she had been the cause of it.

But she had to leave him— and Japan— behind; because she felt that she didn’t belong there. She missed her home so much, and it was as if there was some part of her that was yearning to go back to figure out what she wanted there first; to tie up loose ends, per se.

And since she had no idea how long that would take her, she didn’t want to keep him hanging on to her— in case it took her years to find whatever it was that still tethered her feelings to her old home.

“I have to do it… for myself. You’re perfect, Kyōjurō; you’re everything I’ve ever wanted and more, but I don’t want to hurt you if I never come back.” (Y/n) began softly, feeling her throat tighten up as she began to fidget with the fabric of her dress; twisting the material between her fingers— if only to have something to do as she poured her heart out to him.

And by the end of it, both of them were silently crying in their seats.

However, the young man still pushed himself to reach into his back pocket with a shaky hand, before sliding the ring that he’d gotten to propose to her with. “Keep this, so that you’ll remember that there was once a man named Rengoku Kyōjurō— who loved you more than anything in the world. And that he’ll always love you.”

***

Months had passed since that fateful night, yet there was never a moment when Kyōjurō didn’t cross (Y/n)’s mind. Not even keeping the ring tucked away in a drawer in her room had taken her mind off of him— and he was always in her dreams.

In every waking moment as well, she always felt so alone even when she was in the middle of a crowd. It was why she had a momentary lapse in judgment and had hung out with the wrong crowd; people whom had only used her for their gain.

When she had finally realized that coming back home was nothing but a mistake, she wanted nothing more than to turn back time and take back all of the things that she had told Kyōjurō.

She hadn’t needed to find herself at all; she was just homesick. There was nothing tying her down to her home country, but there was everything that was willing her to go back to Japan— both to pursue the life she’d always wanted, and to get the man that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

…if he would still have her.

So, on a leap of faith, she had saved up all that she could and packed her things; rented her old apartment near the academy again, and had put in an application to be one of the teachers there. She was there to stay, after all.

***

The flight had been long and filled with turbulence; (Y/n)’s eyes were so heavy with the need to sleep, and her jet lag was extremely weighing on her body. Still, she trudged through the streets with her nothing but her purse on her shoulder, and her carry-on luggage rolling beside her— as her other things would arrive in a week.

She wanted to sit down on the ground and just catch a short nap, but her racing heart kept pushing her to walk up to the Kimetsu Academy gates; the very place where she had first met the love of her life.

And, if fate was kind to her, he would still come at the same time that he always had so that she could see him first and foremost. That was the only thing that was spurring her tired body on.

Which had been so worth it. Because the sight of that vibrant red and blond hair walking towards her right by the school gates had her perking up; not even caring as she let go of her luggage and purse— before sprinting up to Kyōjurō so she could wrap her arms around him, like she’d been wanting to do for the past few months.

Thankfully, he had seen her at the last second and had opened his arms for her— before locking them around her middle and holding her as tight as he could without hurting her. “You’re home… you’re finally home. I knew you’d come back.”

That had (Y/n) pulling her face away from the crook of Kyōjurō’s neck; tears glistening in her eyes, as a look of confusion crossed her features. “You… knew?”

“Because you’re my soulmate, (Y/n); the one who was fated for me. I just had to believe that you’d come back,” The young man whispered, his own eyes getting glassy with tears, as he cupped his beloved’s face before leaning forward to press his lips flush against hers. “Welcome home, my love.”

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writersrealmbts · 3 years

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Clearwater Springs: Part 5

Description: ot7 x reader, reader’s choice, fairy/supernatural/soulmate au. The choices you make influence the story! In this world, war-torn and ragged, you’ve been offered a home and a job working as a librarian. Will you meet your soulmates? Will you ever find the shelves behind the piles of books? Who knows.

Warnings: I suppose I should point out that there’s a lot of innuendos coming in the next couple chapters

Posted: 11/11/2020

Tags: ot7 x reader, supernatural bts, soulmate au

3,787 words

A/N: Dang this took forever

Previous ~ Next

Jin had accepted Hoseok returning with the two of you easily, even accepting Hoseok’s excuse of “I feel as though my path lies alongside yours at the moment.”

More surprising was the fact that Hoseok boldly brought up soulmates in the car on the way home. “Seokjin-hyung, what do you know about soulmates?”

“Oh…well…a little I guess. The basics.” Jin shrugged. “Some enchanteds have a soulmate or soulmates, others don’t.”

Hoseok hummed in response from the driver's seat. He’d offered to drive because Jin looked half dead after today's settlements, and then almost passed out when you simply hummed. Hoseok was a good driver too. Conscientious.

“Why?”

Hoseok shrugged. “Not sure. Let you know if I figure it out.”

Jin nodded. “Scale of 1-10, how upset do you think Namjoon will be when we arrive home and he sees me?”

“Hmm, because it’s you...nine,” You answered, smiling.

His ears turned red. “Oh please, he would be upset if it were anyone. Like you.”

“Nope.”

“False,” Hoseok chimed in, a laugh in his voice.

“You don’t even know him,” Jin objected, voice rising in pitch to object it further.

“He’s still correct. We all know that Namjoon is a big softie for you, and Hoseok can see the future so he probably saw it,” You argued. “Who are you to say that he’s wrong?”

Jin huffed and grumbled, but didn’t try to argue with you two further.

Hoseok parked the car, peering out at the house with an astonished look. “How many bedrooms?”

“Eight,” Jin answered, yawning. “Come on, they’ll think we’re weirdos if we wait out here.”

Hoseok got out, but seemed to be nervous now. “They’ll like me, right?” He whispered, catching up to you as you got your bag from the trunk.

“Of course, you’re our soulmate,” You whispered back, patting his shoulder. “Come on, they don’t bite. Okay, well, Yoongi might but that’s because he’s a cat half the time.”

Then you noticed a brown-gray tabby on the porch railing, watching Hoseok with narrowed, golden eyes that reflected the sunlight.

“That would be him,” You murmured, nodding toward him.

Jin didn’t even think about it, petting Yoongi’s head.

“Cute,” Hoseok breathed, looking like he was vibrating with nervousness and excitement.

Yoongi didn’t move to follow until you and Hoseok were following Jin into the house.

Namjoon met all of you in the hallway, almost knocking Jin over when he hugged him. “You’re exhausted.”

“You’re knocking me over,” Jin whined, stumbling back against the wall. “At least let me lean on you.”

Namjoon let Jin maneuver both of them so that they were more comfortably and stably situated, resting his chin on Jin’s shoulder afterward. “You do seem less tired than normal. Much less tired,” He murmured, smiling at you.

You gave him a thumbs up, then gestured to Hoseok. “We brought home a new friend.”

Yoongi had shifted into a human, and he looked sort of grumpy. “Another one?”

“We have the space. It’s not like you’ve taken a bedroom, and Jungkook didn’t seem to know what to do with the idea of having his own room. Even if both of you took a room, we would still have three rooms left over, which means space for Hoseok,” You reasoned, stepping forward and fixing his hair.

His frown deepened, eyes narrowing on Hoseok.

“Do you want a room?” You asked carefully, continuing playing with his hair because he hadn’t seemed to notice.

He stiffened. “Why are you here?” He hissed at Hoseok.

Hoseok, for his part, was just smiling. “Adorable. You’re adorable. I had a feeling, I trust my feelings. They led me here, for now at least.”

Yoongi looked petrified, putting you between him and Hoseok a little, and causing Hoseok to laugh a little.

You suppressed a giggle.

Namjoon met your gaze, eyes darting to Hoseok.

You nodded slightly.

Namjoon’s eyes lit up and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he just hugged Seokjin tighter. “Come on, hyung, let me get you in bed.”

Yoongi snorted.

Seokjin choked and batted at Namjoon. “Phrasing.”

“I said what I meant,” Namjoon replied, confused. “You need a nap, and the best place for that is in bed?”

Seokjin, ears and neck red, started dragging him away. “Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what you said, you’re not that naive of a haltija.”

Namjoon just followed after, still looking confused. “But I really don’t know….”

“Just stop!” Jin said, dragging him upstairs.

Hoseok chuckled. “Okay, but isn’t there another person living here?”

“JUngkook,” You told him. “Is he in his bottle?”

Yoongi nodded, gaze drifting back to Hoseok. “He was up all night playing that game Jin introduced him to.”

“Of course he was,” You sighed.

Namjoon came back down before you could say anything more, Jungkook in tow (who didn’t look tired, did djinn get tired?). “Hyung fell asleep before he even finished laying down. This is Jungkook. Jungkook, this is Hoseok.”

Hoseok grinned. “Nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

Jungkook shyly dipped his head in greeting as well, but he had a quiet, secretive smile.

Yoongi growled slightly. “What is up with all of you? What are you hiding?”

You froze for a second.

Then Hoseok laughed and reached out, taking Yoongi’s hand, his sleeve rolled up so that the soulmark on his arm was visible as he took hold of Yoongi’s hand and the mark filled in.

Yoongi stared, then his eyes widened. “Wait...wait…hold on….”

“We’re soulmates,” Hoseok chuckled. “Me, you, y/n, Namjoon, Jungkook, Jin, Jimin, and Taehyung.”

“Who are Jimin and Taehyung?” Jungkook asked in a whisper, looking confused.

“Later,” you whispered back.

Yoongi shook his head. “Try that again?”

“Soulmates,” Namjoon said, showing Yoongi Jungkook’s mark since his own was on his shoulder and he probably didn’t feel like stripping and freaking Namjoon out.

Yoongi traced it, then looked at yours after you’d rolled your sleeve up and out of the way. He breathed in slowly, then let it all out at once. “Soulmates.”

“Soulmates,” You said gently, smiling.

He slowly nodded, then met your gaze. “Who are Jimin and Taehyung?”

“Well….” You let your sleeve fall back down to your wrist. “I haven’t met Taehyung yet. Hoseok just knows that he’s one of ours, the one we haven’t found yet. Jimin is a fairy-incubus that’s hiding in the library for safety because both species he comes from bully him for having soulmates.”

“Is that why I was leaving food in there?” Namjoon asked, eyes wide. “I just thought you were hiding some sort of pet there or something.”

You shook your head. “We were gone three days and you think I was keeping a pet there? Seokjin figured out there was a person hiding in there the day before we left.”

Yoongi huffed. “I knew I smelled something weird in there! You called me crazy!”

“I thought it was just a pet! I mean, we already deal with the bird that follows her everywhere and now Parsley won’t leave the library, thanks to you.”

“I told you! She just followed me when I was taking the new donations over! It’s not my fault she stayed to explore and then decided that that was her new home!”

You looked back and forth between them. “Which one of you is telling Jin that his beloved kitten has decided not to come home?”

They quickly pointed at each other.

You sighed. “Okay. Now, Jin doesn’t know that we’re soulmates, we’re still waiting for the appropriate time. I’m going to go unpack books and check on Jimin.”

“I’m coming with you,” Yoongi said firmly. “As a cat, one of my other forms. I’ll sneak in. Hopefully he doesn’t notice me and I can get a look at the interloper.”

You hesitated. “I...don’t know….”

“You’re hoping to have everyone together before you tell Jin, right? Make sure he loves all of us before breaking the news.” Yoongi folded his arms. “Because he’s human, and less likely to understand than I am.”

You all exchanged looks, trying to figure out whether to confirm that or not. Was that the reason all of you were hesitating? Or was it because all of you were afraid of him rejecting you and then being homeless?

Namjoon sighed. “I’ve been living with Jin for forever and I still don’t know how to tell him.”

“Tell Jin what?” A grumpy voice asked from behind all of you.

Panic. Sheer panic.

Jin leaned against Namjoon’s back. “Did you break my great-great-grandmother’s china or something?”

“Uh…”

“I was joking. The china is my great-great-great-great grandmother’s and it’s worth more than me,” Jin chuckled, obviously too sleepy to see how that just seemed to panic Namjoon more. “I thought you told me everything, Joonie? And I thought you were going to nap with me?”

“I thought you were asleep,” Namjoon replied, voice definitely panicked.

Jin pouted, leaving Namjoon’s back. “I was, but then I got cold and you weren’t there.”

Namjoon blinked a few times. “Uh...I ran into Jungkook and he heard a new person and was too afraid to come down alone, so I came down with him to introduce him to Hoseok. I was going to come back, we were just talking.”

“About?” Jin asked, looking at the rest of you.

“Uh….”

Hoseok pointed at Namjoon. “How he’s in love with you.”

All of you stared at Hoseok for a moment.

Jin blinked. “Yeah, okay, was that the secret? Because...it’s not exactly a secret. Why else would we be sharing a bedroom on and off for the past year?”

Namjoon looked at Jin. “What?”

“Oh please, you kiss me every time you get drunk. It’s cute. Now, come on. I need a nap and I need someone warm.” Jin pulled a shocked Namjoon back upstairs, again.

“We’ve kissed?!”

“Every time you get drunk. Or tipsy. Sometimes when you’re half-asleep. One time when you were sleepwalking. Oh, and then there was the time with the cherries and….” Jin’s voice faded out of your hearing, still chatting away.

“How did you know that would work?” Yoongi asked quietly, eyes wide as he stared after them.

“I didn’t,” Hoseok breathed, then let out a laugh. “How do we know that Jin doesn’t already know?”

“We don’t. Not anymore,” You replied, tugging your hair in agitation. “Okay. Books. I’m going to go organize books before something crazier happens. Jungkook, can you show Hoseok the empty rooms so he can pick one out?”

Jungkook nodded, eyes still wide and shocked.

You nodded, setting your bags to the side and headed out the front door.

The quiet path to the library was refreshing after the chaotic camp of fortune tellers. They’d been friendly, and when they got too friendly Hoseok stepped in, but the whole place was chaotic. Lots of people, lots of talking, lots of arguing.

The shadows of the library beckoned you, and you took a deep breath before turning the lights on.

“Hello,” You whispered to the books, and then you noticed.

All of the books were on the shelves, except for the books you hadn’t unpacked and some carefully organized books on the desk.

You went to the desk, noticing that they were all marked as the section they needed to be, and a piece of paper was sticking out of each of them with numbers.

“I numbered all of them,” Jimin said softly, landing gently behind you. “In alphabetical order. To make it easier.”

You looked to the shelves, noticing all of the books had similar papers sticking out of them. “All of them?!”

He nodded.

You turned back to him, smiling. “How can I ever repay you?” You asked softly, stepping closer and lightly touching his cheek.

He looked embarrassed. “You don’t have to repay me. You let me stay here and you had someone bring me food.”

“Are you the reason the kitten has abandoned the house?” You asked, smiling as Parsley hopped onto the desk and mewled at him.

He smiled sheepishly and picked her up. “I’ve just been petting her.”

You shook your head and turned back to the computer, catching a glimpse of Yoongi slipping into the library but staying in the shadows, his dark tabby fur blending into the books and shelves. “Corrupting a kitten with cuddles, can’t say I’ve heard that one before.”

“I’ve got lots of talent,” Jimin replied easily. “How was your trip?”

“Hectic, but enjoyable.”

“And did you….”

“Did I...what?” You asked, logging into the computer and then starting to input the books.

“Did you spend every night with him? Sing to him every night?”

You smiled and turned back toward your winged soulmate. “I did sing to him every night, and we did share a tent. But my bed was on one side of the tent and his was on the other. And tonight, I’m going to sleep in my waters, so...take from that what you will. Are you still determined not to come home with me and formally meet the rest of our soulmates?”

He looked at the ceiling, fluttering up to sit on the desk. “Namjoon is one of them? And so is Seokjin?”

“And Jungkook, the djinn. And Yoongi. And I just brought home Hoseok. He’s one of our soulmates too.”

“That’s a lot of people,” He whispered.

“I think you need a lot of people who will love you,” You whispered. “Because you’ve been rejected by everyone else that should have. Your species. Your family.”

His eyes filled with tears, and he held Parsley closer.

You stepped closer and cupped his face in your hands, wiping the tears that fell despite himself. “Please come home to us?”

Yoongi hopped up onto the desk, rubbing against his back.

Jimin flinched and then pet him as well, obviously struggling with his thoughts and feelings.

“You’d have your own room, and there’s one by the back staircase that would allow you easy access to a door that leads outside, and all of the windows open and are probably big enough for you to escape through.” You told him, wiping a few more tears. “You wouldn’t have to do anything you were uncomfortable doing. At least, I wouldn’t make you do anything you were uncomfortable with. Namjoon wouldn’t either, or Yoongi or Jungkook. Hoseok might be a bit of a different story and I’m honestly unable to predict things about Jin, he’s a bit of a wild card. And then there’s the last one that we haven’t found yet, but hopefully...hopefully soon.”

Jimin chewed his lip. “I’m not last?”

“You’re not. Not for me.”

Jimin then frowned and looked at Yoongi. “Wait, is this a werecat? Is this the werecat? The one you were holding?”

“Yoongi. He’s got a mind of his own.”

Yoongi stepped lightly over to you.

You scooped him up as you released Jimin’s face.

Yoongi purred in your arms, blinking slowly at Jimin.

“See, he’s a werecat, doesn’t even have a soulmark himself, and he still likes you already.”

Jimin laughed huffily for a moment, obviously amazed you even tried a line like that.

“Y/n?”

Jimin flew away in a flash at the unfamiliar voice.

Hoseok came bouncing into the library, then stopped and gaped. “It’s beautiful.”

You smiled and waited as he raced around, touching the spines of books and just looking...in awe of everything.

“I’ve never seen so many in one place,” He breathed as he joined you at the desk.

And the shelves weren’t even half-full.

You smiled. “It’s a start. Hopefully these shelves will be full one day. In the meantime….”

“We should make a book,” Hoseok said impulsively, then blinked. “Sorry. That came out of nowhere.”

“What kind of book should we make?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I think...I don’t know. Not right now. We need more time. We need to all do it separately. We’ll all be different.” His eyes started to get a hazy look to them. “All different. All same. Our story. Different….”

You set Yoongi down and went over to make sure Hoseok was okay. “Hoseok?”

He shuddered and then tugged you into a firm hug. “Different. Different. Paper planes. Follow the bird. Don’t follow the bird. The fox? No. Follow the fishes, floating floating floating. No more. No more. Mo nore. Narro noster narratio. Pingo noster narratio. Complico. Complico complico.” His eyes were completely white.

You bit your lip, uncertain what to do.

Then he kissed you, both hands holding your face, lips pressed gently to yours, just there.

And when he pulled away, you wanted to follow, but his hands prevented it and held you in place.

Yoongi was in human form, staring wide-eyed and pink-cheeked.

And Jimin was watching from the rafters with a similar expression.

Hoseok pressed his forehead to yours after looking at you with white eyes for a moment before they slowly faded back to his own.

Then he started collapsing.

Jimin and Yoongi caught him.

Jimin stared at Hoseok’s profile as the seer gave a soft sigh and drifted off to sleep, head resting on Jimin’s shoulder.

Yoongi sighed. “Okay, well...he’s cute. I’ll give him that. But what’s with the white eyes and nonsense?”

You rolled your eyes. “Such a grump. You realize unless Jimin agrees to come with us back to the house it’s you and me carrying him?”

Yoongi looked desperately at Jimin.

Jimin shivered and then slowly nodded. “I’ll come with you--but I don’t...I need space.”

You nodded. “We’ll take him up the back way. With any luck Jin is still sleeping. And if he isn’t, I’ll start singing.”

“And put the rest of us to sleep as well?” Yoongi objected.

“It doesn’t put me to sleep,” Jimin said, slightly smugly, slightly defensively.

Yoongi rolled his eyes.

Jimin scooped Hoseok up on his own. “Go on. Lead on.”

You nodded and pulled Yoongi along.

No one intercepted your group, and soon you were tucking Hoseok in. Kissing his forehead and making sure he was sleeping deeply before you slipped back out into the hallway.

Jimin was looking at a painting on the wall opposite Hoseok’s room.

Yoongi shrugged at you, then walked away, shifting as he went.

“Jimin,” You said softly.

He looked back at you, but immediately put his attention back on the painting. “The rising of Aurora, goddess of dawn. This painting is 200 years old. And it’s the original.”

“You...like painting? Or art?” You asked, hoping for some insight into him.

He shrugged. “I just...I know this one. It was in one of the books I had as a kid.”

“I bet you were an adorable kid.”

He snorted, turning to you. “Were you ever a kid?”

You nodded. “I don’t remember much, but yes. My kind don’t just pop into existence. What’s special about this picture aside from it’s remarkable age?”

He laughed breathily, looking at it again. “It was said that there were several meanings to the painting, that everyone who viewed it had a different aspect of it that they focused on. Some saw it as hopeful, others saw it as vengeful. A goddess bringing the light of a new day, a goddess riding to war with the fury of dawn.”

“What do you see?”

He was silent for a moment, then he stared hard at you. “I see you.”

“Me?”

He looked away and nodded.

You looked the painting over, but you didn’t see vengeance or fury. And you definitely didn’t see yourself.

“Which rooms are empty?” He asked quietly.

You gestured down the hall toward the back staircase. “Take your pick.”

He nodded and started exploring. “What about the house owner? What will you tell him?”

“Seokjin? The truth. Our library interloper has finally been convinced to take a bed, and safety, and food. Hope you eat, because I eat once a day and Jin makes food all the time. It’s like a compulsion. Settle in, wherever you decide to. I need to go soak.”

Jimin nodded, staying in front of one of the rooms after peeking in. “I’m....gonna get my things.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later tonight, or in the morning.” You smiled softly at him, then headed toward your room.

Jin, Namjoon, Jungkook and Yoongi were in your sitting room, obviously waiting for you.

You closed the door casually, listening for a moment and hearing another door closing.

“He’s going out a window,” Yoongi murmured.

You nodded then sat down. “Okay, is this an intervention?”

Jin shook his head. “This door was the only open one when Yoongi waved at us to hide.”

You nodded. “Got it. Jimin is an incubus and fairy, he very very reluctantly agreed to come here. Try to give him space, but not too much. I really need to go soak, I feel...dry.” You shuddered. “Oh, and maybe check on Hoseok in a bit. He had a weird sort of vision attack.”

“Okay,” Namjoon replied. “Do you think he’d be okay with me greeting him?”

“You’re the house Haltija, I think he’ll accept it once he knows that’s what you are. Just...be gentle,” Yoongi murmured, staring out the window.

Jin absently stroked Yoongi’s head, as he got up. “We will. I’ll hold off for now. Let Namjoon talk to him next and Jungkook and I will go make dinner. Don’t forget to invite him to eat with us, Joonie.”

Namjoon nodded.

You grabbed your comb and headed downstairs behind Jungkook and Jin, passing them in the kitchen to enter the basement and indulge in a nice, long, luxurious soak in your own waters. It took you quite a while to remember which part did what, and for the water to fill the large basin. Messing with knobs and levers to remember what did what, and pulling a new dress out of the water for when you were done soaking. Velvet this time. Beautiful.

You climbed into the basin after dimming the lights, not bothering to undress until you were well into the waters, and then letting the fabric slide off of your shoulders with the pressure of the falling water and dissolve.

Turning to sit on the basin’s edge to comb your hair and sing and seeing Jimin and Jin staring before Jin grabbed Jimin by the wings and dragged him away.

“I told you not to come down here!”

You smirked after them as you started singing, running a gold comb through your hair and becoming one with your waters again while thinking of the embarrassed faces of your soulmates.

–

Survey Results used for this chapter

–

Pre-Chapter 7 Survey

Previous. Next.

Masterlist. Clearwater Springs Masterpost.

–

Taglist: @kerikaaria @killcomet @letsreadbts @taestannie @dwaaaaaaaaa @missmoxxiesworld @cheese123344 @insfirebunny @crookedstarlitnight @aphot-c @chim-possible @psiphidragon @i-like-puppy-mg @daddyjoonie @softescapism @amammietje @4evahevah @slytherclawwarrior @kittylovsu @forever-once-gone @unlikelylittlemiss @mailani-annie @daydreambrliever @miss-fawn @jinternational-playboy

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oh-look-isa-weeb · 4 years

Text

Wait a Minute 1

Yuri Plisetsky

A soulmate AU where your soulmate's name is written on your wrist in their native tongue - and you were born with a line of cyrillic.

Notes: Another soulmate AU!! I decided to write this on a whim because I'm a sucker for Yuri and soulmate AUs. My requests are still open for KnY, Haikyuu!! and Daiya, but I'm not confident enough with YoI to take requests yet, this was just self-indulgent. Regardless, I hope this came out okay, and send any other requests you have!

Important info on this AU: Each person has a name on their wrist in their soulmate's first or native language. It's initially a typewritten font, but when your soulmate touches it, it changes to their handwriting. Until this change happens, you'll feel a brief, sharp sting on your wrist alerting you to their presence each time you meet.

Edit: Part 2 is now up! You can find it here!

Warnings: Some swearing

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

Ah yes. Moscow. Where the temperature kicks your ass even though it's not winter anymore (or so the locals say, in their damned singlets and shorts), and half the people you pass seem like they could kick your ass too. You just wanted to come here to represent your country, play your beloved sport, and Not Die. Oh, and your soulmate might be here. Yeah, Russia's huge. But at least you have a better chance of meeting your Russian soulmate in Russia than somewhere else in the world, right?

The plain black "Юрий Плисецкий" on your wrist stares back at you, almost mocking. The directory in front of you, covered in similar symbols, does the same. You were lost in a mall in Moscow, fifteen minutes to the end of your lunch break, and if you didn't start warm-ups on time, your coach was gonna have your head. And your legs. Suicide drills do not make for a very pleasant dessert. You’re gonna have to claw your way outta here somehow.

And after going in at least three circles (yes, three) and taking a gazillion thousand million wrong turns, you make it out of the mall, your destination in the distance. You have five minutes, so you should be fine. You hasten your steps, and as you pass a small street, you… crash into someone?

“HEY! WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING!” You yell at the figure. He pulls his hood back with a snarl

“HAAAAAA? YOU WATCH WHERE THE FUCK YOU’RE GO- OW!”

Just as he said that, you felt a sharp sting across your wrist, and then it was gone as quickly as it came, leaving the two of you clutching your wrists. You recovered first.

"You have got to be kidding me! Of all the damn-"

"Wow, thanks, it's good to know my own soulmate already hates me!" He made to leave, but you pulled him back by the hood, sighing.

"I don't hate you, damnit, I hate the universe and your god-awful, absolutely inconvenient fucking timing. My coach is going to skin me alive if I'm late and I have… Fuck." Your phone indicated you had three minutes left, and you sure as hell couldn't make it unless you sprinted the whole way.

"Wait, what time is it?" You shoved your phone at him and he spat something in a foreign language. Probably a curse. A split-second passes before he reaches into his pocket and fumbles with his phone for a bit before shoving it at you. It’s been opened to a new contact page. You quickly punch in your name and phone number, and then scramble to pass him your phone so he can do the same.

“You’re not from Russia, are you?” He starts. You shake your head.

“How long are you staying?” “Five days or so.” You’re both circling the topic of the mark-changing. It’s a small gesture, but many soulmates treat it as a milestone, and opt to do it in a more romantic setting. The busy streets of Moscow are not very romantic and you’re both juggling this new revelation along with the thought of your respective coaches’ wraths.

“I can. Text you. Or something. Later. Unless you wanna do this now,” he blurts, waving his hands around helplessly.

“Uh, yeah! Okay, I think I can find a free day to meet you, or something. I might not text back until really late though. Yeah.” Not your most eloquent response, but hey.

He half-nods, giving you an expression somewhat resembling a smile, and pulls his hood back up, jogging away. You start sprinting as fast as you can, weaving dangerously between people who are probably giving you nasty looks.

For the record, you are one minute late.

#yuri on ice #yuri!!! on ice #yuri plisetsky #yuri plisetsky x reader #yuri on ice imagine

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puckmeupfam · 4 years

Text

Emotion | Andre Burakovsky

Word Count: 3064 Note: I’m a sucker for soulmate AUs and this has been in my head for awhile. Excuse any spelling/grammar errors because I barely edited it. Sorry I couldn’t find a way to include Burky getting into a random car thinking it was his Uber or Backy calling him his “baby boy.”

Growing up, no matter how confusing everything else seemed to be, you knew one thing for certain: everyone had a soulmate. You could purposefully communicate with your soulmate no matter how far away they were and any especially strong emotions were shared whether you wanted them to be or not. There were some rules that had always seemed rather nitpicky to you. You couldn’t communicate where in the world you were, or your full name, or anything too identifiable. But other than that, the whole thing always seemed amazing to you - there was someone out there who you would know better than you knew yourself, someone meant for you.

There was one major problem in your personal circumstance. Your soulmate was much, much further away than you would like. As early as pre-school you remembered getting feelings of your soulmate’s emotions before dawn. Excitedness at breakfast. Boredom while you brushing your teeth in the morning. Sometimes you would even be woken up as early as three in the morning with exuberance and for hours you would be too jittery to get back to sleep.

Around the time you started school ou had begun receiving messages from him. You were forced to the conclusion at just six-years-old that your soulmate was a complete idiot. The messages he was sending you were in utter gibberish. Your first real encounter with your soulmate consisted of him waking you up early with his words that made no sense. It was annoying and you had to go to school tired. In the car, there was more and you sighed. But by the time of your spelling test, you had had enough. You were trying to focus and there was a voice in your head interrupting your thoughts. No one had ever officially taught you how to send communications but you couldn’t sit back and let him bother you any longer. You closed your eyes tightly and focused as hard as you could.

“Could you please shut up!” Yes, you had been taught not to say things like that to anyone let alone your soulmate but drastic times called for drastic measures. Luckily for you, your soulmate finally stopped talking. You did feel a wave of… something, but while it was odd and made you feel slightly shaken it was now time for recess, and all of your soulmate problems were soon forgotten as you ran for the swingset.

Later, as you grew up and learned how to articulate the millions of emotions that encapsulated your life, you would be able to classify that feeling better. Apprehension.

The next day was a Saturday and the weather was nice enough that you got to color outside. You sat criss-cross applesauce on the grass even though it made you a bit itchy. As you were deciding which shade of pink to use you felt a tumbling in your belly that you usually associated with the first day of school or singing a song at camp all by yourself. Nerves.

That’s when it came through. The stuttered, “hi.” The word didn’t sound like you had ever heard it before. Not clear like your teacher or confident like the boy who sat across from you in class. But whether or not it sounded like he was eating saltwater taffy, this was an improvement to you. So you squared your shoulders and sent back a hi of your own. Unlike the first time, the feeling that washed over you felt good. This time it felt… cheery. The feeling egged you on so you sent another message.

“My name is (Y/N).”

His response came, still not clear but slightly less timid, “‘m Andre.”

—

Over the years your Andre had become more and more fluent in English. After you’d grown up a bit you had asked him enough roundabout questions and done enough research that you had determined that what he was speaking was not gibberish but rather Swedish. While the difference between the two wasn’t that big to eight-year-old-you, it was still an improvement.

It was when each student in your class had to do a report on a country of their choice that you had to come to terms with the logistics. When the teacher announced the project you had been quick to raise your hand and request Sweden. But when you sat down to do the research you discovered the startling fact that you were about five thousand miles away from the country. For Andre, it was around dinner time when he must have felt your thunderstorm of emotions. Disappointment. Frustration.

“What is wrong?”

You sighed and replied sadly, “you’re far away.” His response was slow and when it came back it was just a solemn, “very far.” For a minute you just sat and stared at the wall. Before Sweden had seemed like this fun, magical place where your soulmate would live until the day you were both ready for him to appear on your doorstep. It wasn’t until this random Monday that it occurred to you that it might not be that easy. That you were separated by oceans not streets. That you may very well never be able to find him.

That’s when his words came, “It is very far. But we are soulmates and I will come to you.” He sounded more certain in those big plans than he ever was before and you genuinely felt like if anyone could make something like that happen it would be Andre.

You tried your best to transmit all of those feelings and hopes to him and thousands of miles away, on a completely different continent you knew he would sense it. Reassurance.

When you were in your teenage years it was a definite fact that Andre was your best friend. He had always been your soulmate and you’d always had a certain affection towards him with his goofy jokes and dumb ideas. But over time he had become your confidant and he had become yours. You’d become decently proficient at Swedish- enough that he could complain to you about his parents or his totally unfair and definitely rigged penalty. It had also become your party trick at school to teach everyone the Swedish swear words that you had learned from Andre.

You knew that he played hockey and that it dominated his time and his thoughts. You’d felt waves of excitement, disappointment, and pure adrenaline throughout his games. But it was in 2013 that, together, the two of you came to terms with the fact that he was going to be drafted. While you were so proud that he was going to be living out his dream, another part of you was full of nervous excitement because not only would he be playing professionally… he would be playing professionally in North America.

In the weeks leading up to the draft, there seemed to be a constant flurry of nervousness coming through your connection. You did your best to take deep breaths to send back as much calm energy as you could muster. There were times when you knew he was sitting awake. Trepidation.

“It’s going to be fine, ‘Dre,” you would tell him, “you’ll go where you’re supposed to be.”

“But what if no one takes me,” you would hear in his nervous whisper.

“From everything you’ve told me about yourself you’re really good so unless you’ve been lying to your dear and beloved soulmate, someone will pick you,” you were trying to come off as cheeky, trying to make him smile even if you couldn’t see it for yourself. His anxiety was starting to diminish but your own mind was filling up with something else… something that you spurred you on to say more. To make him understand.

“Andre. At the end of the day, if all else fails, just know that I will always pick you.”

Both of you were swimming in emotions. There was a crushing weight of something in your chest that almost brought tears to your eyes. The feelings were all new and unfamiliar and it made you feel too overwhelmed to try and categorize. So you chose one of the simpler ones. Bliss.

The day of the draft you had practically glued yourself to the TV. You swore you could feel Andre’s nausea. As it was all gearing up you made sure to tell him how proud of him you were no matter what happened. You sat through most of the first round chewing your lip before the twenty-third pick came up and with absolutely no preamble you heard it.

“Washington takes Andre Burakovsky.”

The camera panned to the player and his family. Your jaw dropped as you practically drowned. Disbelief. Glee. Euphoria.

You knew but asked anyway, “is that you?” You swore you saw him laugh before he said “yeah.” The voice in your head was full of happiness and tears sprung your eyes as you laughed. Anyone watching would think you were deranged but there he was. Still not with you, though you chose not to dwell on that, but he was real. And you had to say it, “you’re so hot.” Through the screen, he shook his head jovially while the wide smile seemed unable to leave his face. As the Canucks took the stage for their pick you were still stunned. Andre was chattering to you happily but you couldn’t quite focus. “It’s you,” you were interrupting his rambles and he paused. While you had already established that the Andre on the TV screen was your Andre, he knew what you meant.

“It is me… and it’s always been you.”

—

During his time on the Otters you let him focus on hockey while simultaneously teetering on the edge of Something. He was on the verge of making it and you didn’t want to complicate that, but you were both acutely aware of each other. For as long as you could remember Andre was yours and him being in the NHL didn’t change that. Over time you’d gone from kids who could barely conceptualize that the voice in their head was a real person to teenagers who were friends and now you were adults who were a bit more. You were falling for your soulmate.

On the night of his debut with the Caps, you were bubbling over with delight. You were sitting on the floor in front of the same TV that you watched him get drafted on. The camera followed him as he did his first lap on NHL ice and like the first time your mind went blank except for Andre. You were enraptured watching him during the anthem and when the game started your eyes didn’t follow the puck, instead they stayed trained on number sixty-five.

Suddenly there was a turnover by the Canadiens and there was Andre with a one-timer and you actually screamed as you watched your soulmate score his first goal just six minutes and forty-three seconds into his NHL debut. As he jumped the boards you did your best to focus enough to send him a clear message. He was tackled by his team so you weren’t even sure if he got it until he emerged to high five everyone on the bench. That’s when you heard him. Short and tooth-rottenly sweet.

“For you.”

Pride.

—

Not every day was as rejoiceful as that one. His upper-body injury during their 2018 Cup run hit him hard. He had missed time due to injuries over the last two seasons and he had been hoping to prove himself. Healing during the playoffs gave him far too much time to overthink. Every time he told you about a pass that missed or a shot that was saved you did your best to talk him down and convince him to focus on healing. The trouble came when he was finally back in the lineup but seemed to psych himself out of every scoring chance. You watched as he went back to the bench after barely five minutes of ice time. Anger. Desperation. Normally you avoided communicating with him during games but you could tell he needed more than even Nicke or Tom could give him.

“Andre, don’t beat yourself up. Just focus on the team.”

“You’d pick me?”

“I will always pick you.”

Later that night, even though Andre hadn’t scored, the game was one to remember forever. Your jaw hung open as you listened to John Walton cheer, “The demons have been exorcised! Good morning! Good afternoon! And good night Pittsburgh! We’re going to Tampa Bay! The Capitals have done it!”

Shock. Thrill.

When Washington won the Cup final against Vegas you were overpowered by Andre’s triumph and ecstasy. You couldn’t even tell where his excitement ended and yours started. While he spent the rest of the summer drunk on happiness and an unbelievable amount of alcohol you found yourself oddly jealous. The two of you had never really discussed a plan for meeting. But now you were selfishly upset that he had gone through this momentous life event without you. That he had gone so much of his life without you by his side. You told yourself it was because you didn’t want to distract him. You told yourself it was because you had to make your education a priority. But Andre was out there.

When the season started again with the team affected by their Cup hangover, you could feel Andre’s stress. And though you were wallowing in your own cowardice, you pushed it aside to support him and let him focus on hockey. You did your best to congratulate him on every goal and reassure him about every loss. Even though the team was doing well, even clinching their division title, it was a tough time for your soulmate. He only had twenty-five points through seventy-six games. While you were so proud of him and content with the progress he was making with his sports psychologist, you could feel how heavily it weighed on him. Everyone was telling him that he was supposed to be on the first line besides Ovi. Andre was invaluable on the rush but the constant pressure seemed to do nothing but push him further and further away.

It wasn’t until July that everything changed. You were calmly stirring honey into your tea when it hit you right in the chest. Dread. It felt like the air had been knocked out of your lungs. Something was clearly very, very wrong. Worry settled in your stomach and you took a moment to steady yourself before reaching out.

“Are you okay?”

“I got traded.”

You felt vaguely hollow. Another major life event that you weren’t there for. And this time it wasn’t jealousy that you felt but sadness. He needed you and you weren’t with him.

“I’m terrible. The Capitals dumped me because they knew I wasn’t good enough.”

“Andre, could you please shut up,” you said, quoting the first time you ever spoke to him, “you’re fucking amazing, I know it, and maybe now you’ll finally get the chance to show everyone else.”

His grief dispelled a bit and he replied, “I miss you.” Your eyes stung as you tried to contain your emotions so he didn’t feel the need to worry about you.

“You can’t miss me, you don’t even know me.”

“I do know you, though.”

Heartache.

You composed yourself enough to ask him where and when his voice replied Colorado it felt like the decision was made for you.

—

As soon as the Burakovsky number ninety-five jersey appeared for sale you bought it. When the dates for the pre-season came out you sprung to buy a ticket out to Denver. The travel website asked you when you would like your return flight to be and without even thinking you clicked one-way.

Your knee shook as you sat on the plane, waiting for takeoff. The cabin was tight and full of chatter but you were too busy imagining what it would be like when you finally met your soulmate to care. Eagerness.

“Everything good with you?” Andre asked. He could feel your nervous energy, but you wanted to keep the surprise.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just excited about your first game as an Avalanche,” it wasn’t untrue and you hoped he wouldn’t press for more.

“When I score it’ll be for you,” he replied. It mirrored his first-ever goal and you laughed lightly, “I have a really, really good feeling.” Giddiness.

You dressed in his jersey and spent longer than usual on your hair wanting everything to be perfect. Standing outside of Pepsi Center hours before the game you took a deep steadying breath as you thought about how your life was about to change. Your soulmate was somewhere in that building and holy fuck this was really happening.

“I’m here,” you told Andre after you had willed yourself inside. Despite your best efforts, your voice shook on the words.

“What,” his shocked reply was immediate, “no… where?” You looked up and communicated all of the signs you could see, just hoping that he had learned enough of the building to know where you were. Within minutes you heard the sound of someone running. The door flung open and there was your Andre. Amazement.

For a minute the two of you just stared at each other. He was dressed in a crisp game-day suit with his usual swoopy, messy hair and he looked so tall in person. You took one step towards him and that seemed to wake him up enough to hurriedly get over to you. Right before he actually reached you, with just a few inches distance between your bodies he stopped again. Looking up at his astonished brown eyes that were so clear even in the harsh fluorescent lighting you saw everything going through his head. It felt different than when you felt his emotions through your connection because there he was right in front of you.

“Hi,” you whispered. Andre smiled and if you weren’t absolutely gone for him before you definitely were then. “Hi,” he murmured back.

Joy.

You reached out and tangled your fingers with his. They were warm and calloused from years of hockey. Andre tightened his grip on your hand and squeezed your hand as if to check if it was really there.

“It’s you.”

“It’s me… and it’s always been you.”

Love.

#andre burakovsky #andre burakovsky imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #Colorado Avalanche #hockey imagine #Hockey Fanfiction #nhl fic #colorado avalanche imagine #i am a washington capitals fan first and a human second #emotion fic #a.burakovsky

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justasparkwritings · 3 years

Text

Merry & Bright {25}: A Newborn King

Previous: Happy Anniversary

youtube

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Parenthood AU

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Swearing!

Summary: A new baby is born.

Shock and awe radiated throughout the small hospital room as the doctor informed you and Taehyung of the most important information of your lives thus far.

“Your due date is around December 25th, give or take 5 days depending on conception,” Dr. Lee said.

Dr. Lee had been your doctor for over a year now, guiding you through the end of your birth control and helping you prepare your body for pregnancy. She had recommended books, foods to try to boost fertility, and taught you how to track your cycle via apps and through measuring your body temp and keeping notes. She had seen you through until this moment, a few weeks after you discovered you were indeed pregnant, and would see you through until your child would need their own pediatrician. She saw you through as trying to get pregnant became a chore and was no longer fun, through the fears of infertility, through the miscarriage of your first, gone before they’d had a chance, no name, no heartbeat, just, gone. To this baby, your rainbow baby, your miracle as Taehyung called it, and she never wavered in her dedication to supporting you both.

Which, a few months later when you went in for your 20-week ultrasound and she asked if you wanted to know the sex of your baby, she delivered the news delicately and with grace. All you wanted was a healthy baby, regardless of sex, regardless of gender presentation, all you wanted was a healthy baby.

“Mr. & Mrs. Kim, you are having a boy,” Dr. Lee said smiling, teeth gleaming under the fluorescent lights. She gaged your reaction and couldn’t tell who was more excited, you or Tae. Tae was the first to cry, cry was kind, he sobbed. Openly, head finding its way to your neck where he burrowed himself, body shaking, snot unfortunately mixing with your perfume. You held him, knowing the significance of this moment.

All Taehyung wanted was to be a father. Before you’d met, he’d spend some of his downtime imagining his future family, what his wife would look like, who his kids would take after, days spent playing and laughing, love overflowing. Then he met you, and everything fell into place. Before you’d married, you’d discussed when you wanted to have children, how many you wanted, and what it would mean for your careers. You’d settled on some rough numbers, knowing full well your decisions could change. Upon your first anniversary, you revisited the timeline, were you ready now? The answer was no, on both of your parts, and you put off discussing it for two more years, until baby fever hit. Everyone was having kids, or so it seemed. The primal desire to procreate became deafening and you sat at your kitchen table, staring at one another, deciding you were ready. Being ready didn’t prepare you for the eighteen months of trying, the miscarriage, the reality that this maybe wasn’t in the cards for you, the doctors visits, the books read, the articles shared.

But it led you here, to a hospital room, as the hours of Christmas Eve bled into Christmas day, epidural in, dilating slowly, Taehyung frantically calling everyone.

“Tae, please, just text them,” Your voice was calm, after all, you couldn’t feel anything past your hips.

“It’s too important to call!” He says, frantically moving to the next person.

“Who are you calling?”

“I called our parents, yours multiple times,” Taehyung takes his baseball cap off, a gift from your father, and runs a hand through his black locks before putting it back on, bill resting on the back of his head.

“They live in the states, they’re asleep,” You remind him.

“I know, took several tries. Then I called your sister, my siblings, Bang, management, Namjoon, Jimin,”

“You only called Namjoon and Jimin?” You inquire.

“Namjoon will tell everyone else, Jimin’s my-

“Soulmate,” You finish, eyes rolling.

“You’re my soulmate,” Taehyung says, taking your hand in his, twirling your wedding band.

“Then why does Jimin have a song saying the opposite? A song that you’re on?” You tease.

“That was before we met,” He reassures.

“You only get one soulmate, Kim Taehyung,”

“Mine’s you,” He says, finally setting his phone down to stand next to your hospital bed, a kiss placed on your forehead. “We’re going to be parents soon,”

“I feel bad for the kid,” You say.

“Why?”

“A Christmas birthday! That’s terrible!”

“How so?”

“You don’t get double presents on a Christmas birthday, you get the same amount,”

“He can have as many presents as he wants,”

“So, we’re going to spoil him?”

“You know what I mean,” Taehyung smiles, if raising Yeontan taught anyone anything, it was that Taehyung was going to be a firm and loving father. Yeontan was trained well, listened to directions and followed through. You hope Tete would apply the same love and care to your child, though hope is the wrong word. You know he will.

It was another area you had to prepare for, the insecurity of parenthood. Taehyung had broken down numerous times, to you, to his father, asking for any advice, any guidance on how Tae could be such an incredible father, like his was. Books did little to comfort him, nor talking to Namjoon or Seokjin. They’d try to tell him he already had it in him, he could do it, but he didn’t believe it. His existential crisis had bled into every stage of your pregnancy, each month brought new concerns, new fears of unworthiness, wondering what he brought to the table. He was just a boy from Daegu. What could he give?

“I do,” You shift, suddenly uncomfortable as the monitor makes a sound it hasn’t made in your six hours at the hospital. You glance at Taehyung, who noticed the change before glancing at the door as your nurse comes in.

“Let’s check on baby,” She says evenly. You can tell something might be wrong, but she isn’t giving much away. “Well, you are fully dilated, baby seems to be in a bit of distress. I am going to get Dr. Lee and she will walk you through what’s to happen next, okay?”

Before you or Taehyung can respond, she’s out the door.

“Is he going to be okay?” Taehyung whispers, eyes brimming with tears.

“Please, don’t cry,” You respond. “I can’t do this if you’re crying,”

“Okay, okay,” He says, turning his back to you. You catch his reflection in the mirror and watch him mutter a few words to himself, trying to pull himself back together.

Dr. Lee walks into your room in a state far less calm than the nurse.

“Mr. & Mrs. Kim, it seems that your son has decided he’s tired of waiting!” She pulls the stool closer to you as the nurse places your legs in the stirrups. “Let’s give him a little check.”

You feel the pressure of her hand between your legs, checking how far dilated you are. She’s standing, gloves coming off as she presses her hands on your belly, trying to determine the position of your son.

“You are ten centimeters,” She says stepping back, “And he is breach, he wasn’t breach when we checked on him earlier, but in the past ten hours, he’s moved. He seems to be in distress, which could be because he has turned himself around, or because he’s wrapped his umbilical cord around himself, either way, we need to deliver now.”

“Do I need a c-section?” You ask, eyes wide, mind racing.

“We’re going to try and deliver him vaginally, but if he is getting worse through the pushing, we will need to take you into surgery,” Dr. Lee moves to speak with the nurse, and Taehyung sheds his sweatshirt.

“Do you want me to sit behind you?” He asks, knowing this is your favorite position from your birthing class.

“Please, can you, can you play the tape from Hypno-Birthing?” You ask. In preparing for labor, you’d dedicated part of your studies to hypno-birthing, a way to manage your breathing and walk your body through the process of labor. It was extremely popular, and as Taehyung crawled behind you, he began walking you through your breathing exercises and mantras.

“My body was designed to do this. I am ready to give birth. My body and my baby set the pace. My partner and I are a team,” You repeat as you inhale and exhale, Taehyung behind you, whispering the words in your ear.

“Your body was designed to do this. You are ready to give birth. You body and our baby set the pace. We are a team,” He repeats over and over as Dr. Lee and her team guide you through changing positions, adjusting the height of your legs, and instructing you when to push.

Taehyung keeps repeating your mantras, keeps encouraging you, keeps breathing with you as you undergo the most transformative moment of your lives.

Taehyung hadn’t grown up wealthy, or well off. He didn’t have lush presents, or dreams of being anything other than what he saw around him. He could be a farmer, he would be a farmer, in the furthest reaches of his mind, a saxophonist. When he accompanied his friend to that audition… He didn’t know what would be possible for him, him, the son of farmers, raised by his grandmother. When he was the last to join BTS, he didn’t come baring gifts of gold, or endless confidence or talent. He came meek and mild, willing to give himself to the group, fully, wholeheartedly, without question. He came untainted with the pressures of the world, wide eyed, boxy smile, he had no gifts to give but himself.

ARMY said that Taehyung was born on the penultimate day of 1995 so that Jiminie wouldn’t be alone, but as he held his son, his first born, his beloved, and as his son molded in his arms, finger wrapped around his, Taehyung knew he was born that day so his son would never be alone.

Next: Anticipating

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sheresh0y · 3 years

Text

Mar'eyce Introduces:

Ro Donetta-Awaud: He/Him, 30-ish

Along with his family:

Dagon Donetta-Awaud: He/Him, 28-ish

Tann Donetta-Awaud: 11-ish

Kato Donetta-Awaud: 5-ish

Ellis Donetta-Awaud: 5-ish

A/N: I decided to go balls to the wall with the rest of these characters. So much backstory. All of it. I'm dumping it right here. Drabbles will added, moodboards whenever the fancy strikes. The rest of Arumorut has had their stories told at this point in the story so, fuck it, whatever. I love these OCs too much and I'm screaming it from rooftops, baby. I know suck at writing children and these Awaud children are definitely come across as way too old but go with me on this. I also left the children's pronouns empty because I'm not entirely sure what they're all trying to tell me yet. I'll update it when they let me know.

Warnings: This fic and AU is 18+ for a reason. Mentions of parental death, swearing, slavery and unwanted children mentions. Ro's a little sad boy under all that armor.

Read from the beginning: Mar'eyce Masterlist

Ro Doneeta was born to Volya and Rol Doneeta, Twi'lek freedom fighters turned Rebels. When Ro had turned four, his parents went a on a routine trip for supplies and never came home. He was adopted shortly after by Kai and Ilyah, a quickly and quietly whispered pact made by the only two parents in their corner of The Rebellion after one too many close calls.

"Take care of them, for us. Please."

The Awauds openly encouraged Ro to participate in Twi'lek culture. Just because he was a Mandalorian now didn't mean he stopped being a Twi'lek as well. The entire clan learned Ryl and Kai and Ilyah found mentors for him to teach him the things they couldn't. They were never sure if they did right by their son, but they tried their best.

After the Awauds retired from the war and were sent back to Arumorut, when Ro and Kaiyah were sixteen, Ro threw himself into the deep end of medicine. It wasn’t humble in the way that Ba’buir was, he didn’t want to train the clan in first aid or help children with their sniffles. Ro had lost so much to the galaxy and this was his fuck you.

First, his ryma and kora, then his lek, now his buir. Kai’buir was physically there, but mentally, emotionally they were nowhere to be found. It was like he had died without dying. Ro decided he was going to fix it all, no one in his family was dying again. Nobody was getting left behind. For everything the galaxy took from Ro, he was going to drag back to this life with his bare hands.

After a few months of shadowing Ba'buir Nejaa, Ro was decided to pursue medical school on Naboo. It was a relatively peaceful planet, since tourism was most of the economy they were malleable to whoever was in charge. This meant that Ro couldn't just walk around anywhere. The Empire was still standing and he was a Mandalorian who may or may not be wanted.

Ba'buir Nejaa said no immediately. Their reasoning was the armor. Armor was important, every Mandalorian wore it all the time. The only reason Nejaa didn't anymore was because Kaiyah needed a new set and they had gifted their set to her. Ro didn't have this exception so he tried a compromise: he would wear the chest plate under his clothes. The plate was the biggest piece of armor he had and helped the most with regulating his temperature anyway. It wasn't comfortable but it was the best he could come up with.

About four years into his medical education, Ro met Dagon through some mutual friends. It was terror at first sight, the poor Zabrak man was missing nearly all of his right ear and Ro knew it was his fault. His stupid plan to fight an Aryx head-on had consequences he didn't full think of at the time.

Try as he might to avoid Dagon, it didn't matter. It was like the up and coming designer was everywhere, Dagon seemed to have his own gravity and Ro was quickly pulled in.

It didn't take long for them to fall in love, by the third official date Dagon was asking Ro to move in and by the fifth they were married. For his part, Dagon took everything Mandalorian related in stride. He barely blinked when Ro explained soulmates and the reasons they were both all scarred up on the first date. He just asked if 'his Mandalorian' had anyone to take care of him.

When Ro graduated school, not quiet a doctor but close enough, the couple had a long talk about the future. They both knew they wanted kids but The Empire was still looming. It wasn't safe for Mandalorians to be openly walking around and they were both faced with the thought it might never be. Dagon understood that his children would be raised Mandalorian. It was close to the way Zabraki culture was. Clans, fighting, it made sense for the most part. Even though he had parted he had parted ways with his family, Dagon knew Ro couldn't do that.

He had been officially introduced to most of the Awaud clan when Ro had graduated, Dagon threw a little get together in honor of his riduur and the only people on Ro's must invite list was his family. They had a bond that went closer than blood and Dagon knew his clan of two needed to do.

He moved the clan of two back to Arumorut, using the ship that Nejaa and Kaiyah brought to move the stuff that Dagon couldn't or wouldn't sell, Ro never seemed to hold on to much.

Ro was furious, initially. Dagon had plans, big plans, to be a designer and he was right at the cusp of finally getting his own line. Moving back to Arumorut would be a step back for his career or end it entirely. In Ro's mind, he could at least play security while Dagon chased his dreams and then they could settle down wherever. It didn't matter to Ro as long as he got to see his family regularly, somewhere Mid or Outer Rim, he didn't want to be too far in case of an emergency.

The move ended up being the best thing to happen to them, not a month after settling in Kaiyah brought home a little Twi'lek girl. She couldn't have been older than five, but with her malnutrition it was hard to guess and she didn't know. She didn't even have a name and barely spoke Huttese.

They named her Tann, for hope.

A year later, while debating on putting their names with an adoption agency now that The New Republic existed and Ro could get his record expunged since his Rebel activities were no longer deemed as 'treason' or 'terrorism', the twins fell in their laps. A woman had shoved the babies on Jax, who was working on a bounty at the time, she said she couldn't take care of them and knew that the Mandalorians could. Jax didn't have a soulmate at the time and knew that the Donetta-Awauds were thinking about adopting again, so he asked if they would like to add the Zabraki twins to their family. The boys couldn't have been more than a few months old, their skin was more pink than the vibrant red it now was.

Kato, for Dagon's father. Even if they didn't talk he still liked the name.

Ellis, for Ro's buir. It was her clan name before she joined Kai.

Ro knew he made the right choice when Kai-buir cried. It sounded terrible at the time, like he enjoyed making his father cry, but it was such a relief to find out that he could. That Kai wasn't entirely gone, just not always there.

Ro still asks Dagon if he regretted it. Losing his fashion line, being a boring tailor to people who didn't really need a tailor. On those days Dagon holds Ro closer, his chin resting on his Mandalorian's head, "Never. Not once. I've never been happier than when I'm with you. 'Boring tailor' and all. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyare."

^ Ro in his full armor. Isn't he a handsome boy?

Translations & Other Headcanons:

Ryma: Ryl, mother

Kora: Ryl, father

Buir: Mando'a, parent

Kai-buir: Mando'a, masc parents typically go by the first three letters of their name followed by 'buir'. The Donetta-Awaud children don't really follow this rule since they have one Buir and one Edalinare (Zabraki, family).

Ba'buir: Mando'a, grandparent

I headcannon Ro as a doctor who did all the bookwork, but never the internships which I believe is eight-ish years of school? Correct me if I'm wrong I just wanted to keep the timeline in some kind of order for myself (leaving Arumorut at sixteen + eight years of school leaves Ro somewhere near 24 when they have Tann, 25 for the twins). I also know that half the stuff Ro does in Arumorut a unlicensed doctor could never do in real life, but in his mind it got him close enough to what he wanted to do, hence the joke about 'not a doctor but close enough'. He was pretty over med school, honestly. Besides, he learned the good stuff from Nejaa (who is nowhere near doctor status, think closer to field medic/EMT who has Seen Some Shit).

Riduur: Mando'a, spouse

Tann: Ryl, hope

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyare: Mando'a, I know you forever, beloved.

In my brain, Dagon is like 6'4", 6'5"-ish and Ro is a short king comparatively coming in at a hot 5'8", 5'9" (he swears up and down he's a solid 5'10". He's not.) Ro is almost always little spoon and doesn't mind it one bit.

I feel like I need to add a disclaimer: did I accidentally create Numa and her uncle with Tann and Ro? Yes, yes I did. Do I really care at this point? No, because it makes moodboards easy. Numa and her family belong to Disney and Lucasfilms, I did not create them and I don't want anyone to think I did. That arc plus the fact she shows up in Rebels makes me cry.

#mandalorian oc #star wars oc #ro donetta awaud #dagon donetta awaud #tann donetta awaud #kato donetta awaud #ellis donetta awaud

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pufflyhallows · 4 years

Text

Gravity (II)

gif not mine

This is Part 2 of the Soulmate!AU I wrote for George. You can read Part 1 here. I hope you like it!

Warnings: same as before

Word count: 3,091

********

When Hannah’s favorite song ended, you expected the girls to come back to where you were, but they didn’t. You tried to spot them among the students dancing, but it was too dark and you couldn’t really see people’s faces. After the following song ended too, you started to think that they were not leaving the ‘dance-floor’ anytime soon.

The snacks table wasn’t far from you, so you walked over there and placed the bowls on it. You looked at the dance-floor again, spotting Hannah with a boy you didn’t know. You caught her eye and she mouthed ‘just one more’ at you, discretely pointing at the boy dancing with her. You gave her a short, understanding smile and nodded. She smiled back, turning her attention to the boy. Susan was nowhere to be found, though.

You decided to walk around and explore the room. You saw Justin and Megan, but decided not to interrupt them.

“Looking for someone?” you heard behind you.

Turning around, you met George’s eyes. “N-No, not really. I’m just… walking.”

“This place is awesome, isn’t it? Every party is completely different.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t know. This is my first.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Is my awkwardness that obvious?”

“No,” he chuckled, “It’s just that I’d have noticed you.”

You let out a laugh through your nose, “I highly doubt it. But thanks.”

“Who did you come with?”

“Hannah Abbott,” you replied, then realizing he probably had no idea of who she was. “Who was invited by Ernie Macmillan, who happens to be-”

“Emma’s soulmate. I know him.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, your nervousness increasing with the mention of the subject.

Please don’t ask to see it.

“And where is she? Hannah?”

“She’s dancing with this boy. I don’t know if he’s the one or not, but she seemed to enjoy his company.”

“And that’s enough for the moment, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I guess it depends on the person.”

It was normal for people to go out with other people before they found their soulmate. After all, it could take decades. But you weren’t quite sure if you liked the idea.

“And if the person is you…?”

“Then it’s not enough. If anything, it’s a start.”

Silence settled between you two and you wished with all your heart that he hadn’t taken it as you brushing him off.

“And where are your friends?” you asked, trying to change the course of that conversation before it went any deeper.

“Enjoying the party, I’m assuming,” he replied with a shy smirk, mimicking you from before.

“So... Um... Why aren’t you enjoying it with them?”

“I thought that maybe I could, you know, enjoy it with you instead.”

You blinked a few times, taking in his words.

“Unless you don’t want to, of course,” he added.

You couldn’t possibly know, but George was nervous. Maybe he wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t said what you just said. Not that you had said anything wrong, but the meanings behind words are infinite.

He was aware of the fact that you two didn’t really know each other and you could simply not want to hang out with a stranger, but he also liked to think that this was different. He couldn’t be a total stranger if you had an inside joke, right?

He then chose to believe the one meaning in which you were just making small talk, and not the one in which you wanted him go away.

“No, no!” you said, slightly more desperate than you intended, “I mean, I want to. I’d love to.”

“Great,” he smiled, truly relieved. “So, you’re friends with Emma?”

“No. I just met her, actually.”

“She’s the coolest. She plans all the parties we throw here and they’re all awesome. Ernie is really lucky if she’s his soulmate.”

And there’s the word again.

“She’s really lucky too. Ernie is one of the best people I know.”

“A bit uptight, I would say. But maybe that’s why he’s her soulmate. Opposites attract.”

“What?” you looked at him incredulous. “Ernie is not uptight.”

“He’s the Hufflepuff prefect,” George laughed.

“So?”

“Prefect. Come on.”

“You have something against prefects, don’t you? I heard you hexed the Slytherin.”

“That was unrelated to his prefect status. The guy was just a dick.”

You laughed. “This is really interesting, considering your brother is Percy Weasley, who people refer to as the best Head Boy Hogwarts had in years.”

“Oh, my God. Who do you talk to?” he wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I hope it wasn’t Ernie who said that. Poor Emma.”

“It wasn’t Ernie. There’s no need to pity Emma,” you joked. “But maybe I get why you don’t like prefects and such. Sometimes, and I do want to emphasize that it is sometimes, Hannah won’t let us do something because it’s against the rules. If Percy is a hardcore version of Hannah, then I understand.”

“Trust me, Percy is Hannah times ten.”

“How weren’t you expelled when he was here, then?”

“There’s always the possibility of me and Fred being extremely smart, you know.”

You giggled. “I know.”

George smiled and looked down. He had downed a shot of Firewhiskey a few minutes before approaching you, but the effects of the liquid courage seemed to be fading away. Well, actually, they clearly had faded away already.

“So,” you said, making him look back at you. “This is your last party in Hogwarts, huh?”

“Yeah...” he sighed. “I’ll miss this place.”

“Really?” you sounded legitimately surprised, “Won’t you finally feel free or something?”

“Well, yes. But the last seven years were good ones. And I’ll be leaving friends behind. New friends too.”

You smiled timidly. “Letters exist for a reason.”

“You know it’s not the same.”

“But it’s something. And, in my very unimportant opinion, there are things that are better expressed when written rather than spoken.”

“Your opinion is not unimportant,” he shook his head. “But what kind of things are you talking about?”

“You know, delicate subjects. Subjects which we have to carefully think about and wisely choose words for. That’s the magic behind letters. You get to sit down and think. Sit down and choose what you really want to say. Instead of rambling incoherently until the other person guesses what you mean.”

“Like a love letter.”

“Or a departure letter.”

“Or any letter for that matter. I see what you mean,” he nodded.

“And you agree?”

“I don’t know. I think that there are things that should be discussed in person, you know?”

“Well, yes. But some of us simply don’t have enough courage,” you chuckled lightly, realizing that the conversation had indeed gone deeper. “So we hide behind parchment and ink.”

“We?”

“Me,” you admitted. “I am not as brave as it might have looked like last night.”

“I don’t think it’s a matter of braveness or courage. It’s simply different ways of expressing yourself. One is not better than the other.”

“Maybe different occasions and different subjects require different communication. Who knows?”

“I certainly don’t and I feel outsmarted by you right now.”

“Oh, come on. You got all poetic seconds ago!” you chuckled, being followed by him.

“Seriously, though. I’ll miss it. I hope you take care of that corridor for us. Don’t let people ruin it.”

“How would they ruin it?”

“They might take it for granted and stop sneaking and start to just go there. Then Filch will find out and work out a way of keeping everyone away except for the Hufflepuffs.”

“Oh… So we’ll be free from intruders? Sounds good to me.”

“I knew you would say that,” he grinned.

“I might warn Filch myself,” you teased.

“Oh, you wouldn’t,” he shook his head. “You wouldn’t be that uptight.”

“Maybe I want to be known for my rightfulness, like your beloved brother Percy.”

“He was also known for walking around with a stick up his-”

“Georgie! There you are,” Fred Weasley threw his arm around his brother’s shoulder. “Lee and I were looking for you.”

“I was here describing our brother Percy’s anatomy to Y/N.”

“Oh! Did you tell her about the pumpkin instead of a brain?”

“Jesus Christ,” you chuckled.

“I was getting there,” George replied, “What do you want?”

“You to hang out with us. Come on!”

“Thanks, but I’d rather stay here with Y/N.”

“Y/N should come too!” Fred looked at you, then finally recognizing ‘Y/N’. “Oh! Y/N! What a surprise,” he smirked. “I hope you noticed the big snacks table at the other side of the room. Plenty of food there.”

“Oh, I did. I just don’t understand your concern,” you frowned jokingly.

“There is no concern at all,” his smirk widened. “Anyway, are you two coming or not?”

“Again, thanks, brother. But we’ll stay here.”

“Okay, then. See you around,” Fred had a slightly different expression on his face as he looked at the two of you before walking away. You couldn’t stop yourself from feeling flattered by George’s insistence in staying alone with you. And also nervous.

“Can I get you a drink or something?” he asked.

“A Butterbeer would be just fine,” you answered timidly.

“I’ll be right back.”

As he left, you rubbed your hands on your uniform. With all the people in the room, he wanted to stay with you?! You were just… a Hufflepuff. And he was George Weasley, the fun guy, Gryffindor beater, popular prankster, talented and handsome as hell. You saw the look in girls’ faces when he came in with the team – all of them looked like they fancied him, and they were so much more interesting than you.

You crossed your arms, then uncrossed them. You ran your fingers through your hair, putting it to one side, then to the other, then leaving it like it was… You didn’t know how to act.

When George came back with your drink, you tried to relax a little bit.

“Here,” he offered you the bottle.

“Thanks,” you reached out to get it, but the look in his eyes stopped you. Your long sleeve was slightly pulled back, due the movement of your arm, and was showing just enough skin of your wrist. George’s eyes stared intensely at it – he seemed to be in shock.

You looked at it too, confused to say the least. However, realization hit you as fast as your eyes reached your skin, and panic made its way to your heart not long after. You immediately pulled down your sleeve, feeling ashamed and exposed.

“Is- Is that-” he gulped, his eyes still fixed on your (now) covered wrist. “Is that a flower?”

You didn’t know what to say – should you deny it? He had seen it already, what was the point?

“Y-Yeah.”

“I-”

“Listen, I have to go to the bathroom real quick,” you interrupted him, already stepping back.

“Y/N-”

“I’ll be right back,” you lied, leaving right after.

You walked fast through the students until you reached the door. You opened it just in time to meet Susan, who was coming in.

“Y/N? Where are you going?”

You walked right past her, heading to the closest bathroom you could find, which happened to be on the same floor.

You entered one of the stalls and locked the door. Your breathing was intense, your cheeks were red and warm, your heart beating faster and faster. You sat on the toilet and covered your face with your hands, feeling so much embarrassment – if anyone asked why, you couldn’t really say, you just did.

After a while of calming down, you decided to go back to your dorm and hide for the rest of your life. You couldn’t look in George’s eyes again, he seemed so disappointed. Your tattoo was probably the lamest he had ever seen. Is that a flower?

You left the stall in slow steps, pulling down your long sleeve and shutting your hand tight. How could you have been so absent-minded at that moment? You ruined it completely, there was no fixing.

The mirror above one of the sinks showed the reflection of a very jaded girl while she washed her face as if to wash the embarrassment away.

You held each side of the sink and stared at the mirror, breathing in and out. There was no need for such nervousness, right? George was going to forget it in no time and you wouldn’t have to worry about anything. The two of you were from different houses, different years, different social circles, different everything. There was no class you would have to be anxious about, no assignment you would have to fear, nothing. You would get on with your life and he would get on with his and neither one of you would have to talk about it, simply because there was no reason to. You weren’t friends and this wasn’t actually important.

And when the school year ended, it would be over.

You walked away from the sink and headed for the bathroom door. You stopped at it and pulled down your sleeve, squeezing your hand shut. You took a deep breath and stepped out.

As soon as your foot touched the floor outside, a tall figure approached you from the left.

“Y/N.”

George was looking at you with a nervous expression on his face. And to be completely honest with yourself, he looked way more nervous than you.

“Hey,” you mumbled shyly, “Um… I’m not feeling very well, so I think I’m gonna go back to my dorm and… you know, rest or something.”

“Okay,” he nodded, gulping, “Let me just show you something first.”

“What?” you asked expectantly.

George raised his closed hand to the level of his stomach and seemed to hesitate for a second, looking at it and chewing on his bottom lip. He slowly held it out for you, hand still closed, and with his other one he started pulling up his long sleeve until it showed his wrist… and tattoo. The exact same tattoo as yours. The exact same flower in the exact same color and shape and size and everything.

You looked at it in a trance, like you were dreaming. This could not be real at all. You could not have just found your soulmate. And your soulmate could not be George fucking Weasley.

A million thoughts came rushing through your mind, impossible to keep track of. What were you supposed to do now? What did people do when they found the one? What if your soulmate didn’t like you? What if your soulmate wasn’t happy that you were their soulmate?

“Say something,” George whispered.

“I-” you shook your head, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Me neither,” he chuckled lightly and you felt a wave of relief wash over you. At the very least, he wasn’t upset.

“What do we do now?” you asked, still staring at your tattoo’s twin.

“I don’t know, Y/N. This is my first time meeting my soulmate.”

You looked up at him and smiled timidly, receiving a wide grin back.

“I’m so happy it’s you,” he confessed.

“Why? You don’t even know me,” you replied honestly.

“You had me when you pulled that thing on me and Fred last night,” he admitted with a chuckle. “I think it should’ve pissed me off, but it just made me smile for the rest of the night. I don’t know why, to be honest. Maybe it’s simply because of what we just found out.”

“Maybe it’s that,” you nodded, feeling incredibly weird about it. Could you have effects on your soulmate before you knew they were your soulmate?

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How do you feel?”

You paused, studying his face. “Relieved” you admitted, “Relieved you’re happy. Something I always feared about the ‘finding your soulmate’ thing was the possibility of my soulmate not liking me. Or, you know, being disappointed it’s me. So yeah, I’m relieved. At the very least we don’t hate each other.”

“That’s a way of looking at it,” he smiled shyly. “I’ll let you rest now. When you feel better, we can talk more.”

“Oh, I’m…” you blushed, completely embarrassed. “I’m okay. We can talk now. If you want, that is.”

“Okay,” he nodded.

“What do you wanna do about it? I mean, what do people normally do?” you asked. To say you were nervous and scared was an understatement. The unknown was very scary, the future was very scary. You were afraid it wouldn’t work out, he was leaving Hogwarts after all. Many questions sprouted in your head and you could only hope he had the answers for most of them.

“They normally go out on dates,” he said. “But… Who said we have to do what everyone else does?”

“What do you mean?”

“We could pretend we’re not soulmates. We could go back to that party and pick up from where we left off. No pressure. No hurry. Just two people getting to know each other.”

You smiled. “I like that idea very much.”

“And we don’t make plans. We just live. One day after the other.”

“I’m up for that. I don’t want us to follow a list of steps and do this mechanically.”

“Me neither,” he shook his head. “I’m terrified of that, actually.”

“Me too.”

You looked at each other and a wave of relief, happiness and affection washed over both of you. You also felt at peace and grateful. George felt his nervousness leave his body. It felt good. It felt good to have found your soulmate and it felt good to know that your soulmate was… well, like you! It felt good to have someone so understanding by your side, someone who didn’t judge you as you confessed your fears and worries. Someone who listened to you and actually cared about what you had to say. Someone who was patient when different opinions were presented. Someone who looked past the flaws and divergences and focused on what brought two people together.

Your heart was full. You were full. And now that George Weasley, your soulmate, was right here in front of you, you felt thankful for a muggle word: gravity. Because if that didn’t exist, your long sleeve would have stayed in place and you wouldn’t be looking in George’s eyes like they deserved to be looked at.

And as he intertwined his fingers with yours and took you back to the party, that old habit and obsessive manner stayed there at the bathroom door, and inconvenient questions would never be asked again.

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley x reader #george weasley soulmate #fred weasley #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagines #hogwarts #gryffindor #slytherin #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #random tag #i'm stupid

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ace-in-a-shopping-cart · 4 years

Text

Soulmates

Soulmate AU where the last thing your soulmate says is tattooed on your wrist (Because I’m evil and felt like it.) This is all based off the thought of Virgil crying on his bed, Logan’s tie in his hands.

Word Count: 1,162

Ship: Analogical.

They were soulmates. There was no way they couldn’t be. The only problem was dealing with the fact that they were soulmates. He had to look at his wrist and fear the day the words were said. He never knew when they would be the last time they were said and that scared him.

Virgil looked at his wrist, at the words engraved in his skin and his mind. He thought about the one person he wanted to hear them from but dreaded to hear it at the same time. He looked up as Logan said the words again, stepping out the door. “I love you!”

Virgil shook his head, knowing Logan was just going to work. He tried not to respond to him, mainly because he was scared of his response. They had never shown each other their soulmarks so neither knew. He never knew if the one time he replied was the last time, so he didn’t.

When Logan didn’t get home at the usual time after work, Virgil started to worry a little bit. He had the news running in the background as he made dinner, knowing Logan liked to watch it while waiting. When he heard about the hostage situation in Logan’s building, he panicked. He turned the burner off, parking himself in front of the TV for the remainder of the broadcast.

He almost screamed every time they cut to a commercial or different segment, needing to know what was going on. When they said who the hostages were, they were all Logan’s coworkers. This is when Virgil started to spiral into an anxiety attack.

Sure, they didn’t say Logan was among the hostages, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in the building. He could have been in a different room and hadn’t been noticed yet. He could have been on a different floor and gotten pulled from the elevator on his way home. There were a million things that could have gone wrong. For all Virgil knew, Logan could have been dead and thus they didn’t feel the need to mention him.

He saw one of Logan’s ties in the laundry hamper and picked it up, cradling it in his hands. He didn’t know how, but he ended up in the fetal position on the bed, tie wrapped around his hands and pressed to his cheek. He started crying, not knowing what to do or think. He would never know if he passed out or just fell asleep that day. Either one was plausible.

In any case, he woke up a while later to knocking on the front door. ‘This is it. He thought as he groggily walked to the door. ‘This is the notice that he’s dead. This is the part where I never see him again.’

He opened the door to see Logan standing there, no worse for wear. Virgil sobbed, throwing his arms around him. Logan chuckled as he maneuvered them both into the apartment and shut the door behind them. Once that was done, he dropped the items in his hands and picked Virgil up as if he were a toddler. “What’s wrong, Beloved?” He asked as he rubbed his back.

Virgil couldn’t answer, just buried his head in Logan’s neck. Logan seemed to understand as he sat in a chair, Virgil in his lap. He focused on calming him down until the sobs had lessened and his breathing was back to normal. He murmured sweet nothings into his ear, allowing him to cling for a while longer.

When Virgil had calmed down enough to speak, he pulled away on his own just enough to look at Logan. “I- I thought . . . “

“Yes?” Logan prompted when it was clear Virgi wasn’t going to continue on his own.

Virgil sighed, head resting on Logan’s shoulder as he suddenly felt exhausted again. “I thought I lost you.” He whispered.

Logan’s arms came around and cradled him close. “I’m right here. I’m fine. Would you like to tell me what prompted these thoughts?” His hands went back to rubbing Virgil’s back in soothing gestures.

“The news said there was a hostage situation at your work.”

Logan’s hands stilled. “ . . . How did it end?’

Virgil chuckled. “I don’t know. I had an attack and woke up on the bed.” He gripped the tie in his hand a bit softer as he spoke.

Logan reached over and grabbed the remote, unmuting the TV. The news anchor was speaking of the hostage situation in the past tense as they wrapped up the broadcast. She spoke of the hostage negotiator going in and dealing with the situation peacefully, no hostages harmed in the process. Logan released the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“They’re all fine. No one got hurt.” He muttered. Virgil nodded against his collar bone, hair brushing his chin. Logan’s hands went back to rubbing.

“I thought you were one of the hostages. At the very least that you were trapped in a different room and hadn’t been noticed yet.”

Logan chuckled. “No, I was actually on my way here at the time. I took longer than usual due to traffic.”

“But you never get caught up in traffic. You always leave before that.”

“That is usually the case. However, today I stopped to grab doughnuts as the hot light was on. As I was once told, ‘You never ignore the hot light.’”

VIrgil chuckled, chest feeling lighter and breathing feeling easier. Only for that weight to come crashing back onto him as Logan spoke again. “What caused you to assume the worst?”

Virgil pulled back, almost falling off Logan’s lap as he did so. “My . . . my soulmark.” He muttered quietly.

Logan nodded. “What does it say?”

Virgil held up his wrist, usually contained in his hoodie but not now as he had discarded it in order to cook. His soulmark was clearly visible, a line of Logan’s elegant, black script that spelled out, ‘I love you’.

Logan sighed. “Oh, Virgil. I’m sorry.”

Virgil smiled before he could speak further. “We agreed not to share the soulmarks. You couldn’t have known. “

“Still. I should have realized that was the reason you tense up sometimes when I say that. Would you like to know mine, just so we are even? That might relax some of your fears.”

Virgil nodded. “Only if you want to.”

Logan took off the leather cuff he usually wore over his wrist before holding the wrist up so Virgil could read it. In Virgil’s flowing and soft writing it read, ‘See you on the other side.’”

Virgil tilted his head, wondering when he would ever use that line. “Thanks.” He said as he leaned forward for a hug.

It wouldn’t be until much later that Virgil would say those words. It wouldn’t be until they were enjoying their retirements that they would use those words for the last time as they simply hoped they would last the night. They both passed in their sleep.

#analogical #virgil sanders #logan sanders #anxiety attacks #virgil has anxiety #fanfic #soulmate au #ace writes

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sasskarian · 4 years

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Fanfic Masterpost ... sort of

In honor of Fanfic Appreciation, I put together a list of my fics for anyone who’d like to look

Under the cut, because length

Dragon Age:

After the Glitter Fades (Glitterverse): Hawke x Fenris, modern AU. (Long fic, WIP) Hawke and Fenris are movie stars in a torrid love affair. Fenris has a mysterious past. Also Cassandra is investigating a murder mystery? Varric, as ever, is a delight. (*this is borrowed from @nug-juggler‘s excellent and shorter summary!)

Memorable quote: Fenris observed candidly was something sacred. For a moment, Hawke fiercely wished she were an artist. The scene in front of her was too… every word she could think of— beautiful, elegant, breathtaking— was trite, a pale description of perfection.

In the Heart of the Woods: Lavellan x Fairbanks rarepair. (WIP) Inquisitor Lavellan’s heart is broken by a certain Commander, Fairbanks has an appreciation for her, and a love story blooms like elfroot in the Emerald Graves.

Memorable quote: This kiss, she thinks, two mouths moving in perfect unison, is a spell of its own. Not quite love, not yet, but close enough she can pretend it is. Hope wells up, a solid thrum beating in counterpoint to her heart, and for one perfect moment, the world just bows down and… stands still. All that exists, all that ever has existed or ever will exist is wrapped up right here, right now, in Fairbanks’ lips on hers. Motes of dust turn golden in the sunbeams splashing through the roof, and a touch— his thumb, her cheek— says a million more words than words ever could.

Yesterdays: Surana x Zevran, mild Surana x Alistair pining. Post Origins, complete. A Warden’s sacrifice means something only as long as someone remembers it. A king looks back, balancing regrets with happiness.

Memorable quote: With a half-sob, he realizes he’s forgotten the sound of her voice. Oh, he remembers how it made him feel, all those years ago, all the glorious, shining moments where happiness dwells still. But what she truly sounded like, what sounds she made as she buried herself in books, the snap of her magic, the low buzz of her and Zevran whispering in their tent, all of that is gone. He knows it happened, but the memory is lit dimly in his mind, a torch burned too low to be flame but not low enough for embers yet.

If You Ever Did Believe (for my sake): Lavellan x Cullen. (On temporary hiatus) A wary Commander. A lost Dalish mage. Two hearts beating alone and exhausted on a battlefield, their only rest coming from each other.

Memorable quote: “Does your Maker hate us so much?” Isera asked bitterly, and for a moment, Cullen felt as though years had rippled, bringing his past self— still clanking through the halls of Kinloch Hold in Templar plate— and his current together. He’d asked Ser Greagoir the same question once, after a Harrowing went wrong and the body of a former apprentice lay at their feet. So much potential wasted, so much fear in the mages’ eyes after that. For once, Greagoir had shown a hint of emotion, clapping Cullen’s shoulder briefly before walking away, but hadn’t answered.

Voiceverse: Lavellan x Solas/Dread Wolf. (WIP) Building off of the great works of @khirsahle and @athreehundredthirtythree. All mages are born with a soulmate--a voice they hear in the darkness of the Fade all their lives. The lucky ones find their soulmates and forge a bond strong enough to threaten the very foundations of the Chantry. At least, that's what they claim. So what happens when a Dalish mage hears the voice of their most reviled and feared god shaping her dreams?

Memorable quote: Accompanying the thundering voice, great fissures ruptured around her hiding spot, green light streaking upward as they gathered into a roiling cloud. A wave of raw sound— howls, cries, pleas— rolled over her, forcing her to her knees. Iveani clapped her hands over her ears, losing her own scream among the agony thundering through the Fade. All caution, all her hard-won lessons about walking the Fade, vanished into the back of her mind under the need to simply ride out the explosion and survive.

Mass Effect:

Home is Where You Are: Ryder x Jaal (WIP). Ryder didn’t cross two galaxies and 600 years in search of love. But damn if she didn’t find it anyway.

Memorable quote: “I should take a shower,” he mumbled, as the same time as Sara said, “Would you like to stay?” Both of them broke off, staring at the other, and she laughed nervously. That feeling was back, the one from the tech lab, fragility and strength and affection turned fierce and bright tumbling over and over one other.

A Song of Sea and Stars: Garrus x Shepard x Thane (WIP). Our favorite turian badboy sees right through the mask the galaxy’s most famous Commander projects. Neither of them expected to fall in love on a host of impossible missions. And both are taken by surprise by a pious Drell who steals both their hearts.

Memorable quote: (He opens his eyes, shocked how it feels to look into her face, intimate and hungry. He hazily notices that up close, her eyes are thulium-gray. There's a hot, tight knot in his chest and she's pressed so close, he thinks he could count each faint freckle on her face.) (They look like tiny stars.) (…there are twenty-eight on her right cheek. Thirty on her left. And fourteen, right across the bridge of her nose.) (Those are his favorite. They remind him of his own markings.)

the sound of shattering glass: Generic Shepard, post-Tuchanka, pre-Citadel II. The Shroud explodes, taking a beloved friend with it. Shepard only has herself to blame.

Memorable quote: “Damn Reapers,” he said, striving for nonchalance. “Always throwing us around.” “Banged us up pretty good,” she agreed, and he knew she wasn’t talking about their bumps and bruises. “So what do we do about them?” “Get back on our feet. Keep fighting.” Garrus hummed as she shifted closer, pressed her forehead against his neck. “Maybe find a way to use some really big canons I spend half my time adjusting.”

Star Wars:

He Might Like That: Mandalorian x Cara Dune pining. So they argue. So they took down Gideon, and have a magic green frog baby older than both of them. That doesn’t make them a thing. Does it?

Memorable quote: He tunes back into the not-so-friendly argument in time to hear Greef splutter. “You trash talked while holding hands! If that’s not flirting, I’m a kowakian monkey lizard.” “It was arm wrestling, not holding hands,” Din points out mildly.

Star by Star: Post TRoS. Ben x Rey pining, Finn x Rey x Poe. Can three hopeless idiots in love fill a wound as deep as the death of a dyad? Maybe not, but they’re out to try anyway.

Memorable quote: “You know,” Poe whispers, a glint of mischief in his eyes, “if we ever did tell him we loved him, he’d probably sleep right through it.” Rey touches her fingers to his lips, tracing the shape of his questioning smile. It’s an invitation to play, that smile. A careful offer of love, of comfort. And though she’s not sure if he can really understand when even she doesn’t, she’s finally ready to try a little.

Counting The Days (Since Exegol): Finn x Rey x Poe, Ben x Rey. Its been 42 days since Palpatine’s death. 42 long days since she felt the surge of light in Ben Solo. And in her dreams, something whispers on the edge of the Force. But she’s shut it down too tightly to hear it.

Memorable quote: True to form, Poe can’t resist the urge to kiss away Finn’s troubles whenever possible, and Rey looks away to give them a moment. Some love stories work out, yes, and she loves Finn and Poe more than almost anything else. But that doesn’t stop the way bitterness floods her mouth as the memory of Ben surfaces, and it isn’t until Poe gently squeezes her knee (and she throttles back the near-instinctive urge to break his fingers from a lifetime of fending off handsy scavengers on Jakku) that she comes back to the moment. His brow furrows and she reaches for him, smoothing out the lines of his frown with her thumb. “I’m okay,” she says, answering his unspoken question. It’s mostly a lie, but she has to say it. Most days, she’s okay enough.

A Language Made for Lovers: SWTOR (NSFW). Torian Cadera x Bounty Hunter, gender neutral. Reflections on love and marriage under the glow of hyperspace.

Memorable quote: He murmurs in your ear, words that should sound harsh in that still-new tongue scalding your mouth, molding you from aruetii to mandalorian. But the love in his voice softens them, steeps them in warmth and adoration. Still the language of a hunter, of those brave souls willing to be reforged, but with a gentle side, a language reserved for lovers. Words like cyare and riduur, words that mean I love you and forever and home.

Malicious Compliance: SWTOR (NSFW). Malavai Quinn x Sith Warrior, gender neutral. Far away, in an apartment no one knows about, a Sith Lord plays dire games of control... and trust.

Memorable quote: It takes a man with the courage of an entire fleet of Mandalorians to love a Sith, and oh, how he loves you. Like you hung the moons and the stars and all the spaces between. Like you are his other half, like loving you is his sole purpose in life, does Malavai Quinn love you. Your old masters spoke nothing of this, of this enraging hunger gnawing at your bones and curling into the hollows of your rib cage. ... Is it really even love if you don’t want to devour him just a little?

Misc:

Tumblr Prompts: Grab bag of every fandom and series listed above. Prompts filled originally here on tumblr.

Visual Files: Collections of art and commissions from talented friends and artists here on tumblr.

Every Beautiful Thing: Crimson Peak. Thomas x Edith, Edith x Alan. Edith learned, in the dark halls of Allerdale, not to take ghosts lightly. But still she waits, every year, for a chance to see Thomas again. Until the night their son tells her he can see him too.

Memorable quote: Snow heralds nothing but pain in Edith’s world: first her mother’s funeral, smothered in fat white flakes wet on her lashes like tears, then her father’s. Smaller ones, then, rain slowly freezing and scattering on the ground; the ones that night at Allerdale were the smallest yet, more ice pellet than snow. Jagged, hateful things scraping at her with a cold that burned through skin and encased bone.…God, how she has come to hate the snow.

Where I Can’t Follow: Co-authored by @suspendnodisbelief. show!Witcher, mild Geralt x Jaskier. (Temporary hiatus) Drawing from a variety of inspiration, including greek mythos. Geralt takes a blow meant for Jaskier, finally granted the death by battle he expects Witchers to end by. And Jaskier is not having it, at all. It’s his turn to save Geralt, even if he has to walk the entire bloody underworld to do it.

Memorable quote: “Geralt, get up. Come on, open your eyes. You’re going to upset Roach if you keep this up, and she’ll bite me. You know you aren’t allowed to be dead, because Yennefer didn’t give you permission, and neither did the Princess, and I’m pretty sure they both outrank you.”

#dragon age #Mass Effect #star wars #the mandalorian #the witcher #crimson peak #swtor #my fic #fanfic writer appreciation day

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