#wrist timer au

[drymushroomfics]

Time

Colin Firth x reader

  You stare at your wrist, watching the timer ticking down. One minute; that's how long it takes until you'll be face to face with your soulmate.

You've spent your whole life wondering who it could be. Now, here you are, at a movie premiere with thousands of people as your clock ticks closer and closer to zero. You can feel your head spinning. Your nerves increasing.

You tried to find your close friend, Renne, but she's nowhere in sight.

You look up from your wrist just as you bump into someone's back.

"I'm so sor-", you try to say but there's a buzzing going off in your head.

You can barely hear your own thoughts. You wince for a moment before looking back down.

Your wrist reads 0:00.

You look up at the mystery person you had bumped into.

It's... Colin Firth.

He's staring at you, his hand touching the back of his head.

He must've heard it too, right? He has to know.

"Do you?...", you try to say, but nerves are getting the better of you.

He pulls up his sleeve, looking at his own number.

It reads, 0:00

"I recognize you.", he says.

You look at him confused.

"You're y/n?"

"How could you know that?", you ask, still disoriented.

"Renee talks about you a lot. She's even shown me your picture. She wanted to set me up with you but I figured there was no point considering.", he explains, gesturing to his wrist.

"Ironic, don't you think; Renee setting you up with your apparent soulmate."

"Soulmate... Yes..."

Your meeting is interrupted by an usher letting you know that it's time to find your seats.

"You are seated between Renee and I.", he tells you, placing his hand at the small of your back.

You nod, staying quiet as your head spins.

You don't actually no anything about him and he doesn't know a thing about you apart from what Renee must have told him.

"We're soulmates yet we're total strangers. Could the universe be wrong?", you wonder.

You and Colin find Renee already sitting, a large smile on her face.

"I see you've finally met.", she smirks, taking hold of your wrist and looking at the number before doing the same with Colin.

"You knew?", you ask.

She nods with a smirk, "I noticed a long while ago that your numbers were very close together. I had a gut feeling."

"I still don't know what to make of it.", Colin says, honestly as he takes his seat.

"I don't either. We're strangers but we're meant for each other?", you say, looking at him.

He nods, "But do not take it in any crued way. I can't wait to get to know you... I feel rather lucky that you turned out to be beautiful."

You feel a blush creeping onto your cheeks.

"I'm the lucky one. Look at you!", you say, gesturing.

He laughs a little, returning your blush.

Renee looks at the both of you, happy for her dear friends.

As the movie plays, you can't help but feel distracted. You keep stealing glances at him. At your soulmate. 

He doesn't say but he feels the same. He feels overwhelmed by you. You're beautiful and exactly what he'd dreamed of.

"How about we have dinner after this?", he leans over whispering to you.

"I'd love that.", you repy as his hand slides into yours.

You are so glad to have come to this premiere.

[person-behind-books]

lucas' is clutching his wrist as max hovers above him. her timer still is long enough to wrap multiple times around it.

how can her eyes be squashed into her skull and her limbs be broken like a doll, her life seeping out of her, when there's still so much time left.

how can he feel her breath fade away and her heart stop when the timer is still so far away from reaching zero?

part 2

[highway-143]

number 10- nishimura riki

genre: smut, desire : unleash engene ver. au, based on this ask

pairing: contestant!riki x fem contestant!reader

taglist: @urlocalmultigroupfan @minkilicious @vrusha01 @shyoko @planetmarlowe

word count: 1.6k

now playing: confident- justin bieber

a.n- teehee ty anon for the request, i kinda had to interpret the concept video weird for it but i think its a similar concept, idk

tw: death/murder, graphic explanations, oral (f. rec), unprotected, dom!riki, profanity, scary themes idk

(mostly proofread)

all scenarios are fake and are not meant to represent any idol in the story.

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running was getting fucking hard.

you were panting, hands clawing against the bloodied walls while you tried to get away, tried to escape this stupid prison.

the metal collar around your neck wasn't helping either. it weighed you down, making you slower, as if it wasn't already tracking you.

and then the figure appears.

tall, only a few yards away, yet shrouded in darkness on the other end of the hallway.

you freeze, hoping it wouldn't notice you.

but it already had. the thing walks closer, taking slow, almost cautious steps in your direction.

"hello?" it whispers.

you breathe out a sigh of relief. thank god, another contestant.

but then you see it, him, in the faint green lighting.

he was beautiful. dark and rumpled hair, sharp features, and a strong jawline.

"thank god, you're one too. i'm 99, jay."

"i'm y/n, 03." you say, wavering a little in case he's someone you need to avoid. "have you seen anyone else?"

"not yet," he mutters, looking around. "you wanna team up?"

you watch him carefully. he adjust the collar, shifting it around his neck. he looks nice enough, what could it hurt by sticking with him, at least for a little bit.

"sure. let's go that way."

you and jay walk through the halls, taking turn after turn until-

a dead end.

mostly.

a metal door obstructed your path, and jay turns to you.

"want me to check?"

you nod, trying to bury the fear building up in the pit of your stomach.

jay opens the door, taking a slow, experimental step in and looking back at you.

and then he steps all the way in.

big mistake.

you watch as the door slams shut behind him, the handle stuck when you try to open it again.

you try to listen through the door.

nothing.

but then you look down.

and there's blood pouring out from under the door. you slam a hand over your mouth, holding back your choked scream.

player 99 was dead.

you watch as the thick, red liquid pools around your boots, staining the white material.

you almost throw up, but you walk away, trying to find a way out of this damn hell hole.

you find another room, this time peering in before stepping inside. not like you could see anything anyways. and thank god, because you didn't meet the same fate as jay.

instead, the lights snap on, the door shuts with a click behind you, and your eyes practically disintegrate from the newfound brightness.

you aren't fully prepared for what's in front of you.

it's another player, a man again, tied to a chair with black ropes and facing a metal table with a flashing box on it.

"finally, somebody else fell for it, come and untie me."

you roll your eyes and crouch behind him, fingers setting to untie his bonds.

"how'd you get in here?" you ask, pulling the rope away and letting him flex his wrists.

"same as you, just walked in. somebody was in here and tied me up though, but they left."

you nod, looking around the room. now that you were used to it, the lights weren't that bright at all. in fact, they were dimmer than before. there was a camera in the corner, the head pointed directly at the table.

and then, the device.

it didn't take long for you to realize what it was.

a bomb.

the timer was at 31:09

and counting down.

31:08, 31:07, 31:06

you turn to the guy. "it's gonna explode an a half hour."

he laughs. "you think i didn't know that? i can see you know."

you roll your eyes again.

"bitch." you mutter.

"actually, it's riki."

you shake your head. "do i look like i give a shit?"

he laughs, standing from his chair and taking a look at the bomb on the table.

"i like you, you've got energy." he says, poking at a wire.

you don't say anything, just examine the room and try not to stare at riki.

because he had to be cute and an asshole, of course.

"what's your name?" he asks, sitting back down in the chair.

you slump against the wall, sliding down to the ground. "y/n."

"did you see anyone else out there?"

"yeah but..." your voice hitches. "he was eliminated."

"oh." riki's face is somber. "was it 71?" there's an urgency in his expression now.

"no, 99."

"thank god." he grabs his chest, his heart racing. "71's my sister."

your heart sinks. you feel terrible for riki, his own family forced into this stupid game.

you sit in silence, waiting for your death.

it didn't feel real. it was like a dream. how were you and riki supposed to come to terms with the fact that you'd be dead in...

13:42

thirteen minutes.

and then, as you feel tears start to fall from your eyes, there's a long beep from the bomb. you jumped, thinking it was detonating early.

you and riki watch as numbers turn into letters that slowly become words.

𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝚃𝙴𝙽 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝚄𝚃𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴. 𝚆𝙴'𝙻𝙻 𝙱𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚃𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶.

you look over at the camera, a red light blinking next to the lens.

perfect.

just fucking great.

riki turns to the camera, staring it down.

"fucking perverts!" he yells at it, and then the bomb beeps again.

𝚂𝙰𝙸𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙷𝙰𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙵𝚄𝙲𝙺 𝙷𝙴𝚁

riki scoffs. "we'll see about that."

he turns to you. you were standing like a post, not fully grasping what was happening.

"let's go." he says, grabbing you by the arm and pullimg you to stand in front of the chair, the backs of your knees just barely grazing the metal.

"take it off." he says, pointing at your jumper.

you don't do anything. you can't move.

riki clenches his fists. "okay, come fucking on. i have less than ten minutes to do this now." he points at the clock, now 9:46.

you blush and unzip your jumper, the white shirt underneath the only thing covering your chest.

riki pushes you to sit on the edge of the chair, with its back digging under your shoulderblades.

he kneels down, and slips a hand under the shirt, squeezing your breast while his free hand pushed your thighs apart.

you whine when his thumb grazes your nipple, and he smirks while pressing kisses up and down your thighs.

he slides a finger down your panties, pulling them down your sensitive legs. a little moan slips from your lips when he presses a finger to your clit.

"sensitive..." he mutters, grinning.

"shut up," you say, breathless. he just laughs.

he pushes a finger between your folds, collecting the slick building up between them and bringing his finger to his lips.

you moan when he sucks on the pad of his finger, and he groans at your taste.

"god, that's good..."

he leans closer to your cunt, blowing a breath of cool air over your wet lips. your hips jerk, chasing him.

he presses his lips against your clit, giving it a faint suck before trailing down and licking between your folds. his tounge felt like fire on you, his fingers digging into your thighs.

you put your hand on the back of his head, stroking his hair while he practically makes out with your pussy. he moans into you, and you push him deeper.

his nose stimulates your clit, just grazing your sensitive nub while his tounge started pushing into your hole.

you look at the clock.

5:31

shit.

you try your hardest to work up an orgasm, to let yourself go, but your efforts were in vain.

riki looks up at you, pulling away from your throbbing pussy.

"you usually this hard to please?"

"i'm nervous."

he pulls you up from the chair by your shoulder, hooking a hand under your arm and dragging you to the table.

"well i'm not dying today." he growls in your ear, bending you over the cold metal and pushing your shirt over your ass

he spreads your legs with his thigh, and you hear the rustle of fabric behint you.

you know what's coming.

you try to prepare yourself, gripping the edge of the table and locking your legs, but nothing could have gotten you ready for riki.

he pushes into your wet hole, and you struggle to take him. he's long, thick, and hard. a strangled scream comes from your mouth when he pushes deeper, his dick pressing against your cervix.

"fuck, you're tight... god damn."

you whine when he starts moving his hips, his pelvis slapping against your ass with loud claps.

his thumb reaches town to your clit, rubbing you, trying to get you to just fucking release already.

2:06

you feel the tears on the table under you, the metal heating under your trembling body.

riki groans, his own release closer than yours.

and then he spills into you. you clench violently around him, feeling his cum fill you up

yeah, some of that definetly took.

thats what has you over the edge. your legs tremble and your eyes roll back, your slick plasterd onto your thighs, dripping down your legs.

"fuck," says riki, still buried deep inside you. he looks at the camera. "stop the fucking timer! she did it, bastards!"

the timer stops.

0:16

fuck yeah.

. ⁺ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ‧₊˚✩彡.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

a.n- chat i cooked ToT

idk man, im tired. anyways, if you liked this fic, please like/comment/reblog and lmk if you have any ideas for a new one!

masterlist part 2

[bvidzsoo]

Cherry Blossom, March Event M.list

Authors: ❀ @hongjoongspoetry & bvidzsoo ❀

Pairing: Ateez members x reader

❀ Genre: fluff, soulmate tropes, romance aus ❀ Rating: sfw ❀ Status: finished

Synopsis: Tired of all the grey weather and the relentless winter cold? Dive into the world of our Cherry Blossom event, riddled with heartwarming and sweet drabbles, here to help ease you into the defrosting spring that we have ahead of us.

❀ This is a collection of eight drabbles written by Mina and myself, containing individual and quite unique soulmate tropes paired with a variety of aus, which have been chosen randomly by us, then placed in a spin-the-wheel to make it all the more interesting when selecting who would write what. ❀

A/N: Hello, my loves, Mina and I are back with a little fluffy surprise for the entirety of March! We are both so excited about this little event, it's actually my first this kind of collaboration despite the many years I've been on this site writing, so I'm really excited about it, and I know Mina is too. I hope we have sparked your interest, here you can check out the event announcement. We also have a taglist for this event that you can join if you'd like! ^^ dividers

❀ Taglist ❀

3rd March - Chasing your shadows (Ariadné)

❀ Outlaw!Kim Hongjoong x Bounty hunter!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: Each day on your arm is a particular event your soulmate will face. Summary: What was supposed to be a wild chase after a bounty you had your eyes set on for years now, turns into a life changing event. You had always known your soulmate was never up to any good thanks to the words inked on your inner forearm ever since you were five years old, but you hadn't expected him to be the biggest menace known to the state...or the man you had been relentlessly chasing, trying to catch for the hefty reward promised.

7th March - Pretend You Love Me (Mina)

❀ Badboy!Choi Jongho x Student!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: Your soulmate's name is on your wrist. Summary: Jongho, heir to Choi Clothes, and you are soulmates marked by each other's names on your wrists since birth. Instead of a fairy-tale romance, you're stuck in a fake dating contract to restore Jongho's tarnished image created by scandals. As you navigate public events and play the part of a cute couple, the lines between fake and real blur together. Despite your undeniable chemistry, you refuse to take him seriously due to his reckless past. As the arrangement nears its end, you must confront the truth about your feelings and whether you can move beyond the contract.

10th March - A world in your colours (Ariadné)

❀ Daycare teacher!Kang Yeosang x Florist!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: You see all the colours for the first time when you meet your soulmate. Summary: A world through the faint hues of your soulmate's eye colour isn't the most colourful life to live. Approaching twenty-five and still being unable to see all the colours the world has to offer has you worried that you'll never meet your soulmate. Doubts and questions riddle your mind day and night, but at least you have the one thing that makes you happy no matter what, your little flowers. You can't actually see their colours, but you can imagine their vibrancy. And then, one day when you're making a bouquet for a lovely man, your whole world gets covered in an overwhelming amount of colour, rendering you stunned.

14th March - A Second to Forever (Mina)

❀ Mixed fairy!Seonghwa x Fairy!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: A timer counting down for when you meet your soulmate. Summary: The countdown on your wrist was getting closer to its end and the jitters of finally meeting your soulmate were rendering you an anxious mess. It was a moment you had waited for your entire life - the chance to put a face and name to the person you were destined to meet - and it made you think of different ways to escape fate. After a series of comedic events where everything that could go wrong, did, you met your soulmate. In that instant, everything changed. The encounter was filled with sparks of attraction, warmth and genuine connection, leading to a tender first interaction that left you both feeling enchanted.

17th March - So it's always been you (Ariadné)

❀ Model!Jung Wooyoung x Stylist!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: Whenever you lose an item, it ends up in your soulmates' possession somehow. Summary: Both young and restless, Wooyoung and you have started out your careers around the same time. As newbies in the industry, you quickly found yourselves sticking together and growing closer with each passing day. Now, many years down the line, everyone knows that you and Wooyoung are inseparable besties, who have each other's backs and will crack up at the stupidest of jokes. As his stylist, it's also convenient that whatever Wooyoung loses just magically turns up in your possession since he's known for losing his stuff often. It takes you quite the years to figure it out, but when you do eventually, everything just clicks in place, all of it making sense.

21st March - Just Another Night, Until You (Mina)

❀ Firefighter!Choi San x Emergency physician!reader ❀

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

24th March - The pink and blue of your skin (Ariadné)

❀ Sunshine!Jeong Yunho x Grumpy!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: A touch from your soulmate will leave an imprint there. Summary: If there's one person you never understood, and stopped trying to, it was Jeong Yunho. Upon your first meeting back in college, you just knew he'd be a pain in the ass...and you were right. His vibrant personality matched with the constant smile on his face and sickening positivity always made you stay away from him. But much to your dismay, your friend groups mashed quite well, and years after college, you were still going strong and hanging out at any given opportunity. Much to your horror, your best friend makes you share a room and a bed with Yunho for the weekend, and that's when things change...but not for the reasons you'd first think of.

28th March - Sparks and Bruises (Mina)

❀ Boxer!Song Mingi x Real estate agent!reader ❀

Soulmate trope: Meter showing how much of a danger your soulmate is in. Summary: In a world where everyone at the age of eighteen gets a metal meter implanted on their wrist that shows the amount of danger your soulmate is in. You and Mingi have known each other since high school, but went through a nasty fallout after his love for boxing turned into a dangerous gamble with his life as the price. Years later, you stumble over his injured form on the doorstep of your apartment building. Not having the heart to turn him away like all those years ago, you invite him inside with the intention to clean his wounds, but get a lot more than you bargained for.

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY & BVIDZSOO 2025 - All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating our work is not allowed.

[gguk-n]

Soulmate AU Masterlist

Inspired by the multiple posts on soulmate au's I've read over the years!!

Soulmarked (Franco Colapinto x Reader) The first words uttered by your soulmate are etched on a part of your skin for life.

Silent Connections (Oscar Piastri x Reader) You can hear your soulmate's thoughts. But what if one of them speaks before they think.

Fate Accelerates (Lewis Hamilton x Reader) There is a timer on your wrist counting down to when you meet your soulmate.

Hands off (Lando Norris x Reader) Your body has soulmate marks where they will touch you for the first time.

Smooth Operator (Carlos Sainz Jr x Reader) You hear a song when your soulmate is close by and the volume increases as they get close like a game of hot n cold.

The One (Charles Leclerc x Reader) Your soulmate has always been by your side because they were always your soulmate.

The moment (Zhou Guanyu x Reader) You only see colours after you meet your soulmate.

Dreamer's compass (Max Verstappen x Reader) You get to see glimpses of your soulmate in your dreams.

Soul's tapestry (Yuki Tsunoda x Reader) You get glimpses into your soulmate's memories, which feels like deja vu.

In every life (Ollie Bearman x Reader) You remember your past lives with your soulmate.

When stars align (Logan Sargeant x Reader) You are meant to meet the one, no matter what.

Linked by pain (Lance Stroll x Reader) You can feel your soulmate's pain.

[carvinglies]

Soulmate tropes multifandom part one: Hunter x Hunter

part two || part three || part four ||

notes: I wanted to try my hand at writing soulmate au's so hopefully this is decent requests are open.

tw's:Talks of death in chrollos part, immortality in chrollos part, and angst in his part too.

Red string of fate you can tug: Kurapika

Kurapika’s soulmate frustrates him to no end, pulling their string at the worst moments with such force that he wonders how the hell they’re so strong. He could be sleeping and suddenly feel a tug from his pinky moving him to the other side. Kurapika understands he’s not heavy but there’s no way he’s that light! When he finally comes face to face with his soulmate giving them the equivalent of the stink eye.

Kurapika huffs before blurting out, “Why have you been manhandling me for no reason?” They have to stifle a laugh at his bluntness.

Immortal x mortal who keeps getting reincarnated but falls in love with immortal over and over: Chrollo

Chrollo’s soulmate constantly wallows in their own sadness, being immortal has no perks once you begin to live it. They hate having so many chances at life when they have to constantly wait for Chrollo again, watching him die months or days after a confession over and over makes them despise their never ending life Chrollo always dies after falling in mutual love with them making his soulmate swear to never fall in love with him again but always falling to the curse of the never ending cycle of reincarnation and death.

“I’ll always love you no matter how many life’s I live,” was always ringing in their ears in different voices but it was always him.

Really poor description on how you meet your soulmate is written on you: Feitan

Feitan’s face contorted into confusion when he first got the inky writing engraved into his skin, yeah sure he knew what soulmates were but the method whoever chooses soulmates picked out for him was annoying. I mean what kind of description of their meeting is, “bodies will hit it will be hot and sharp.” It threw him for a loop but eventually he decided to just give up on his soulmate. He didn't need romance, he's a thief for god's sake! But he was destined to meet you so when he bumped into someone holding scorching hot coffee that splattered onto him it hurt but it wasn’t bad for a nen user but just for the inconvenience he pulled out a switch knife holding it up to their wrist as a threat.

“Oh so this is what the text meant, how ironic,” the unknown person standing before him chuckled as he withdrew his weapon, coming to the same conclusion.

Someone can not experience true love until they meet their soulmate: Illumi

Illumi used to ask his mother about how he would meet his soulmate; she explained that methods are genetic and he would most likely be feeling no love until they meet the one. But he was quickly told to discard the idea of love and soulmates and encouraged to just marry the strongest person he would meet. Illumi drilled that fact into his head after some push from his parents he began to scout out potential candidates for marriage running into a florist worker their clay pot holding flowers were expected to smash into the floor but Illumi assumed that they were a nen user by the way they gripped their pot. Illumi walked off before hearing the same floral worker calling out to him holding a smaller bouquet, the plastic making a crunching noise as they moved to hold it out to the male's chest.

They grinned at him before hesitating, ultimately deciding to speak, “Here to apologize about running into you sir!” A weird fluttering feeling enveloped Illumi. He glanced at them studying their facial expressions and body language, thinking about them possibly cursing the flowers before giving them the pass, shrugging his shoulders and gingerly grabbing the flowers from them.

Countdown until you meet your soulmate: Uvogin

Never paid attention to the timer until Nobunaga pointed out that it was getting extremely low, in all honesty Uvogin kinda wanted to be in a romantic setting. He had his flings here and there but it wasn’t real love; he never pursued anything more due to his… job. So when he caught their eye during a stroll I mean who wouldn’t notice a 8 foot giant walking around! But then when he bumped into them literally I mean he actually slammed into them kinda, his soulmate was a little intimidated But Uvogin let out a hearty laugh like he always does.

They were the one profusely apologizing before he said, “Nah don’t worry about it I could never be mad at a cutie like you.” Before walking off did they notice the countdown on your wrist was at 00:00.

Speaking to your soulmate during dreams: Shizuku

Shizuku was indifferent towards the whole idea, but she also didn't get the hype people would get with soulmates watching people raving about meeting their soulmate while boasting was confusing. Well that was before she got her soulmate method, falling asleep after shifting in her bed for forever Shizuku dreamt of beautiful scenery with a person whose face was blurred out. Finally the two came to the realization, after a long while, that they can talk to each other and share intriguing conversations but whenever they try to say anything about their personal lives other than nicknames the pair would wake up suddenly like they experienced a nightmare. Shizuku, to her surprise, remembered every little detail about the person who appeared in her dreams, the blurry marks on their body and the way everything but their face looked, finding them interesting but not having enough time to deliberately look for her destined partner she became content with the small moments they shared. While out after a mission she craved a strawberry cake slice she opened the door to her favorite cafe strutting comfortably to the desk worker who greeted her with a smile and voice she was all too familiar with.

“Hello, what can I get you today?” Flashing their signature customer service smile they continued, “Take your time there's a whole lot of options.”

[quadrantadvisor]

DPxDC Danny/Jason Soulmates AU WIP

-

Jason's timer read 044389:21:08, when the display suddenly went dark. 44,389 hours. Five years, 24 days, 13 hours, 21 minutes, and 8 seconds until he was fated to meet his soulmate.

Or not. Because the time stopped.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. He did his research, and with the resources at his disposal (namely, a batcomputer,) he knew for a fact that there should be no way to defy the fate of a timer. People had tried. Avoidance, isolation, putting a hit out on your own suspected soulmate. Nothing worked. Trying to delay the inevitable put you on the path to meet it. Sure, there were people who lamented the unfairness of their own situation, who were devastated they never got time with their soulmate, famous deaths on opposite sides of a battle, etc. But soulmates always, always met eachother, face to face.

Not him, though. His soulmate was dead. Five years early.

Bruce didn’t get it. Dick wouldn’t talk about it. Alfred only looked at him with pity in his eyes.

Jason wasn’t sad that he was the only person on the planet who’d never meet his soulmate. He was fucking angry, because it wasn’t fucking fair. It was another person in his life who was supposed to care about him that he’d never get to have.

So when he found out he had a mom, somewhere out there, who he’d never had the chance to meet… he had to go. How could he not?

-

It was Sam who noticed, when it happened. Danny had just finished a stupid fight with Boxy, and he, Sam, and Tucker were finally ready to call it a night. Danny de-transformed and grinned, shaking the thermos proudly. “Gonna get these guys back into the Ghost Zone,” he said, when suddenly-

“Danny!” Sam yelped, and snatched at his arm.

Danny stumbled, nearly dropping his precious cargo. “Whoa, Sam, what-?’ he stopped, looking as she turned over his arm, baring his wrist.

His timer was dark, like people who’s soulmates were dead. The numbers still showed, faintly, but they were stationary. The countdown had stopped.

Ice spread through Danny’s veins, like the cold that rushed through him when he went ghost, but worse, so much worse.

Danny’s ghost form didn’t have a timer, which honestly freaked him out, but as a human it had always behaved completely normally. When he turned back, it would be there, the time having elapsed just the way it was supposed to. It had been so reassuring. He was alive. He’d make it at least five more years, and be able to meet his soulmate, who would hopefully be able to accept him the way he was. He wanted that so badly. He wanted someone beyond his friends to talk to, to know him as a person and a ghost. He wanted to not be afraid anymore.

He’d just passed the five year mark, not that long ago. He’d been so excited to be that much closer to someone so important.

And now something was horribly wrong.

“Dude, that’s jacked up,” Tucker said, noticing the problem with wide eyes.

“Did anything happen today?” Sam asked, her expression hardened with determination. “Did you notice anything weird while you were transformed?”

Danny shook his head. “No, no it- it was running while we were at school, and we’ve been fighting ghosts since then. I don’t know when it would’ve…” Danny could barely make himself speak. “Is it my fault?” he said, almost to himself. “Did I spend too much time as a ghost and it just-”

Sam gripped at his hand. “No, Danny, it isn’t your fault. Whatever the problem is, we’re going to figure it out, okay?”

“Yeah man,” Tucker added, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, maybe your parents can actually help this time? Weird magic science is kinda their thing, right?”

Sam looked less sure, but nodded all the same. “You’re going to meet your soulmate. Okay?”

“Okay,” Danny said, quiet, looking down at the stopped numbers on his wrist.

-

Edit: Added a readmore

[cottonlemonade]

Brushing Your Stress Away

word count: 1321 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: University AU!Tsukishima x chubby!Reader

genre: spice with fluff

warnings: mdni

request: Hello!! can me and my dear Tsukki get an 11 and 23 for lunch before i procrastinate? || fluffy-spicy, dealing with exam stress + studying together with boyfriend Tsukishima

Tsukishima didn’t even flinch when the pen zoomed past his head, bounced off the wall, and landed perfectly in his hamper. Without looking up from his notes, he asked, “Tough chapter?”

You groaned and let yourself fall on your back, arms and legs outspread like a starfish, “I wanted to study art because I love painting, not because I love remembering dates! This is impossible!”

You dramatically flung an arm over your eyes to drive your point home that you were done with studying.

“Come on, only 32 more minutes on the timer.”, your boyfriend said, turning a page and pushing your art history book closer to you.

“No.”, you pouted, wiggling a foot in defiance, “Don’t wanna.”

“So, you plan on working in a museum as… what? A barista?”

Letting your arm fall off your face, you turned your head to look at him, “You could come visit me during your breaks.”

“Not likely. Coffee is disgusting.”

“Not the point, Kei.”

“Resign to your fate or study for another 31 minutes. Either way, stop whining. Some of us want to focus.”

You sat back up, squinting indignantly at your boyfriend, who skillfully ignored you as his eyes skimmed the pages.

Letting out a small huff of boredom, you looked around his bedroom. When he invited you to come spend the break with him in Miyagi you were excited, even more so when on the drive here he casually mentioned that you’d be alone because his older brother was staying at uni with his friends and his mother was away on some conference. But four days of your precious week had already passed without so much as a roaming hand.

On a whim, you reached for your pencil case to take out a cheap replica of an old artist’s brush - a small gift from the souvenir shop Kei had gotten you the last time you visited a museum together. Turning it in your fingers to have something to do, you stared at the page of your book, admiring the pictures at least.

Kei meanwhile, chewed the inside of his cheek, throwing a quick glance over his glasses at you. He knew he wasn’t doing a particularly great job as a boyfriend right now.

To not make it too obvious what he was looking forward to the most during this week together - uninterrupted alone time with no nosy roommate to worry about or forgetting his key and having to spend the rest of his night on a bench in front of his building - he had put together quite the itinerary under the guise of how much you’ve nagged him to show you his hometown (you asked once). Somehow, being in his childhood home after the months away at university made him almost shy. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought he felt guilty for bringing you here without telling his mother. However, if his shower thoughts were any indication, he wanted nothing more than to make use of the empty house with you - not seeming too eager, of course. He flipped a page without having read the previous one. Unless he finally acted on his impulses, you would return to academic life without even a good solid make-out session at this point.

A soft caressing sensation on his arm made him snap out of his thoughts. He found you running your brush along a faint vein on his wrist.

“What are you doing?”, he asked unnecessarily but didn’t pull away.

“Nothing.”

The smooth bristles followed his long fingers now one by one.

Without any conviction, he said instinctively, “Stop that.”, whilst really hoping you wouldn’t.

Luckily, you never listened to him, so instead you brought the brush up to his neck and tickled the sensitive spot under his ear. He shuddered and you laughed.

“You think this is funny?”, he asked.

“Hilarious, actually.”, you said.

He got to his knees and all too easily made you tumble backward, making sure to catch your head in his hand before towering over you. With a superior sneer, he took the brush from you.

“Let’s see how ticklish you are.”

Trapped between his long legs, you giggled and squirmed when he ran the brush under your chin, and you ducked your head between your shoulders to defend yourself. So he brought it to your ear.

“Stop!”

Your hand shot up to cover one side, but he just took this to mean he could attack the other. He sat back on his heels and in an attempt to hide the outline in his sweats, pursed his lips in fake pondering.

“Hmm… looks like you leave me no choice.”, he shrugged with a heavy sigh and unceremoniously lifted the hem of your shirt, making extra sure his palm, rough from the years of playing volleyball, dragged gently over your pillowy tummy as he did. You became very still, waiting for his next move. He felt you pressing your thighs together between his legs and scoffed while painting invisible lines on your skin as if he were sketching the outline of your bra.

“This is very much in the way.”, he said more to himself than to you and pulled a cup down from your breast. He leaned forward now, his free hand holding him up next to your head and with precise little teasing strokes he flicked the brush over your perked nipple. You made a small noise, one he loved to hear so much, so he did it again, and again.

“Pretty sure the other one is just as sensitive.”, he murmured and without warning, he pulled down the second cup, tucking it safely under your breast, then got the brush into position. You bucked your hips under him when he twirled the bristles this time.

“You’re right, this is fun.”, he noted and kissed you, not letting up on the teasing with the brush. You ground against him, making him gasp into the kiss.

“Will you finally focus on your studies if I give you what you want?” He had trouble catching his breath, was met with a very enthusiastic nod, and kissed you again.

Kei moved back, slowly dragging your sweats down with him, and had to suppress a dreamy groan. You were nothing short of perfection. With the pudgy tummy, the generous love handles, and full thighs you had always reminded him of beauty depicted in Renaissance paintings.

He shifted to lay on his stomach, propped up on his forearms, spinning the brush in his long fingers. A little spring of pride bloomed in him when he noticed a wet patch on your panties already.

The more he dragged the brush over the soaked fabric the more he noticed a definite gleam on the bristles. With the very tip of it, he focused on the pronounced little nub of your clit and was rewarded with a high moan. He was curious if he’d be able to make you cum just with a simple little painter’s brush when the door to his room slid open.

“WOAH!”

Akiteru spun around to look away.

“Sorry! I just heard a noise and - don’t mind me.”

“Why aren’t you in Tokyo?!”, Kei yelled in frustration, scrambling to his feet. A low rustling behind him told him you followed his example.

“Needed some fresh air?” His brother shrugged awkwardly, still with his back to him. “I’ll uhm… I’ll head to the convenience store. Should take me maybe 20 minutes. Do with that information what you will.”

He grabbed around behind him to find the handle before pulling the door closed again, then called from the hallway, “I’ll bring you some snacks!”

Kei exhaled, rubbing his eyes under his glasses, “I’m sorry… y/n, I- mfpg”, he was interrupted by you turning his head and yanking him down to you by the collar of his shirt to kiss him.

“You heard him, 20 minutes. Let’s go.”

a/n: reader was on mission! Thank you to the anon who requested this prompt! I hope you enjoyed it 🌟

[diamonddaze01]

golden promises

pairing: xu minghao x reader | wc: 5.6k genre: angst angst angst! failed soulmates au | warnings: none a/n: this one goes out to my 8stars @ylangelegy & @haologram // thank you to @gotta-winwin and @haologram for the beta i adore you both! // my second attempt at trying to make my writing more poetic lol recommended listening 🎧:  raanjhan - parampara tandon | bin tere - vishal-shekar | samjho na - aditya rikhari | khairiyat - arijit singh | ek tarfa - darshan rawal | judaiyaan - darshan rawal & shreya ghoshal | dill tutda - jassie gill | jhol - maanu & annural khalid | humnava mere - jubin nautiyal  the angst olympics are live! check out all the amazing authors <3 join my taglist here

summary: And so it began. Minghao, who believed in fate, and you, who didn’t.

The first time Xu Minghao saw you, his timer hit zero.

There are moments in life that split time into before and after. Moments that settle deep in your bones, rewriting everything you thought you knew. Moments where the air thickens, where the world rearranges itself, where your heart stops—not in fear, but in recognition.

He’d heard stories about this. How the second you meet your soulmate, the universe exhales, and suddenly, everything makes sense. How the colors brighten, how your name must already be written somewhere inside him, waiting for his mouth to speak it into existence.

And for him, it did.

The summer air was heavy with the scent of ripe mangoes and jasmine, the marketplace humming with the kind of easy chaos that made everything feel alive. He wasn’t looking for anything—just wandering, just passing through, just existing—until he saw you.

You were standing in front of a small stall, the kind draped in delicate trinkets and woven bracelets, spinning one between your fingers. Sunlight poured over you like melted gold, catching in your hair, glinting off the curve of your smile.

Something cracked open inside him.

Dhadkan tak tainu rasta diya, sajna

His heart had shown him the way to you.

Minghao looked down at his wrist.

Zero.

The numbers, the ones he had watched his whole life, had disappeared. The silent countdown, the seconds that had ticked through his childhood and whispered promises into his dreams, were gone.

No fireworks. No divine chorus. Just this—his heart a steady, unshaken certainty.

It’s you.

His feet moved before he could think, drawn forward by something older than reason, stronger than doubt. He was going to say something—what, he didn’t know. Maybe your name, as if he had known it all along. Maybe something simple, something mundane, just to hear the sound of your voice.

But then, his gaze flickered to your wrist.

And there it was.

Numbers. Still ticking.

His breath left him all at once.

It was as if the earth had shifted beneath him, tilting the universe off its axis. The relief, the elation, the quiet wonder—shattered. His fate was sealed, but yours was still unraveling.

The wind tangled in your hair as you laughed at something your friend said, a sound so light it felt like it could lift off the ground and drift toward the sky. You didn’t notice him. You didn’t feel what he felt.

Minghao had spent his whole life waiting for this moment. But now that it had arrived, it didn’t belong to him the way he thought it would.

He could have called out to you. Could have walked forward, told you his name, told you that he knew. That he knew.

But fate had played its hand, and it was not kind.

So he stayed where he was, watching as you tied the bracelet around your wrist, as you moved through the market, as you disappeared into the crowd.

His heart, once so certain, now a quiet war between longing and restraint.

He had found you.

But you hadn’t found him.

The second time Xu Minghao saw you, you were at an art gallery. 

It was a quiet evening, the kind where the world outside felt muffled, softened by the hush of a setting sun. The gallery was nearly empty, save for a few patrons lost in the language of brushstrokes and shadowed frames. The air smelled of old paper and fresh paint, of something delicate and fleeting, like a memory slipping through fingertips.

And there you were.

Standing in front of a canvas, your head tilted ever so slightly, eyes tracing each careful stroke. It was an abstract piece—colors bleeding into each other, shapes unraveling into something intangible. The kind of painting that felt like a secret, like it was whispering something just out of reach.

Minghao should have walked away. Should have kept his distance, let you exist in that moment without the weight of his knowing.

But he had spent days—weeks—thinking about you.

So he found himself saying, “Do you think the artist believed in soulmates?”

You turned at the sound of his voice, eyes catching his. Startled at first, but then—recognition flickered, not of him, but of something in his words, something worth answering.

“I doubt it,” you said, lips curving into a thoughtful smile. “Do you?”

Minghao hesitated. He could have lied, could have said something lighthearted, something easy. But standing here, in the quiet weight of oil and canvas, in the space between past and present, the truth pressed against his ribs like a caged bird.

“I think… sometimes you don’t get a choice.”

You laughed, soft and warm, like a silk ribbon unraveling in the wind. The kind of laugh that made things feel lighter, even when they weren’t.

“That’s tragic,” you murmured. “I’d rather choose.”

Minghao swallowed.

Tu taan saare dil 'te hi kabza karke beh gaya

You had already taken over his heart, even if you didn’t know it.

He studied you then—the way your fingers hovered just slightly in front of you, as if reaching for the meaning behind the painting. The way your eyes held galaxies, waiting to be charted. He wanted to memorize this moment, carve it into his bones before time stole it away.

He thought about telling you. About turning his wrist to show you the truth written on his skin. About how his world had stopped the moment he saw you, how the universe had already chosen for him.

But then your wrist shifted, the timer still ticking down. Still leading you to someone else.

The universe may have chosen for him, but for you, fate was still unwritten.

So he didn’t say anything.

Instead, he turned back to the painting, letting silence stretch between you like an unfinished story. And maybe that’s all he would ever be to you—a passing presence, a stranger in an art gallery, someone whose name you might never think to ask.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said finally, voice quiet. “Maybe choice is better.”

You smiled again, the kind that lingered even after you turned away, moving to the next painting.

Minghao stayed behind, staring at the colors on the canvas.

Wondering if love, when unreturned, still counted as love at all.

It should have ended there. A fleeting moment, a brush of time that barely left a mark. 

He told himself it would. That he would walk away, that he would let fate take its course, even if it didn’t bend in his favor.

But you didn’t let him.

You let him in.

It started small. A conversation stretched across an evening, then another. Then a name exchanged at a café a week later when he ran into you by accident—except it didn’t feel like an accident at all.

"Xu Minghao," he said.

You repeated it, testing the syllables on your tongue, making them something softer. Something dangerous.

After that, you existed in his life like a watercolor painting—gradual, spreading into all the empty spaces, impossible to contain.

It was raining the first time you talked about soulmates again.

You were both in a café, your fingers wrapped around a warm cup, the city humming outside in blurred headlights and water-streaked pavement. Minghao watched you, the way you always seemed lost in your own world before pulling him into it.

“The thing about soulmates,” you mused, tracing a finger along the rim of your cup, “is that they take the romance out of it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

You nodded, thoughtful. “It’s too easy. Too neat. Love should be a choice, don’t you think?”

Minghao hesitated. His wrist had already made its choice. But you hadn’t.

“So you don’t believe in soulmates,” he murmured.

You exhaled a quiet laugh. “No. I think it’s just another story we tell ourselves. Something to make the world feel a little less lonely.”

He wanted to tell you, then. Wanted to turn his wrist over on the table, let you see the blank space where the numbers had disappeared, let you understand what had already been decided for him.

But you had a timer still ticking down, still leading you somewhere else.

So he just smiled, soft and unreadable. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Like—what if it’s all just biology? A trick of the mind? The idea that we’re all predestined for one person seems… sad.” The way you said it made Minghao’s heart clench in his chest.

Minghao had watched you carefully, fingers tightening around his cup. “Sad?”

“Well, yeah.” You glanced out the window, watching the rain smear the city into soft, indistinct colors. “It means you could love someone with everything you have, and if they aren’t ‘the one,’ it doesn’t count.”

But it does count, he had wanted to say. It counts for the one who loves, even if it’s not returned.

“I don’t know,” he had murmured instead, watching the way the light framed your face. “Some people don’t get a choice.”

You had hummed, considering. “I’d still rather choose.”

And Minghao—Minghao, whose timer had hit zero the moment he saw you—wanted, for the first time, to believe in choice too.

It didn’t stop at coffee.

You became a presence in his life, slipping in like a poem written in margins, like a song hummed under breath.

It was the bookstore, where you ran your fingers along spines like they held secrets meant only for you. Minghao had asked what you were looking for, and you had grinned, mischievous.

“Something tragic,” you had said. “Something that’ll ruin my week.”

Minghao had laughed, shaking his head. “Why do you want to be ruined?”

You had met his gaze, something unreadable in your eyes. “Because at least then I’d know it meant something.”

It was the late-night walks, where the world shrank to just the two of you, city lights flickering like fireflies in the distance. You had spoken about dreams, about places you wanted to see, about how the concept of forever never sat right with you.

“Nothing lasts,” you had said, kicking a stray pebble down the sidewalk.

Minghao had tilted his head toward the sky. “Maybe not everything is supposed to.”

You had smiled at that, a small, quiet thing. “See? Now that’s tragic.”

It was the mornings where you sat across from each other, the clink of ceramic cups filling the space between easy silences. It was the stolen moments where he caught you laughing at nothing, where you tilted your head against his shoulder when you were tired, where you let him trace shapes into your palm absentmindedly as you talked about anything and everything.

The next time, it was late at night, both of you lying on a rooftop under a sky thick with stars. The city pulsed below, neon lights flickering like distant fireflies. You had dragged him up here, claiming it was the best place to think.

And Minghao would follow you anywhere.

You turned your head to look at him. “You ever think about what you’d do if your timer hit zero at the wrong moment?”

Minghao stared up at the sky, at the endless black, at the constellations that had burned for thousands of years and still hadn’t figured out how to stay together.

“It’s not supposed to be wrong,” he said eventually.

You laughed, but it was a quiet, almost sad sound. “But what if it is?”

He turned to look at you, to the slight crease between your brows, to the weight behind your question.

He thought about telling you. About the way his timer had gone silent the moment he saw you, how his world had stilled in a way he hadn’t even realized was possible.

But then you rolled onto your side, elbow propped up, fingers tracing absent patterns against the rooftop.

“Love should be terrifying,” you murmured. “It should be something you have to fight for, something that could break you.” You glanced at him then, eyes gleaming in the dark. “Wouldn’t that be better than some numbers on a wrist?”

Minghao swallowed. “Maybe.”

You smiled, satisfied, and turned back to the sky.

Minghao turned back too.

And said nothing.

It was like this for months.

Conversations that drifted too close to the truth. Fingers brushing and lingering before pulling away. The quiet intimacy of something unspoken, something fragile, something too good to last.

Minghao knew he was losing you before you were even his to lose.

Because your timer kept ticking.

Because fate had not chosen him for you, even though it had chosen you for him.

Because love, when unreturned, still felt like love—but it also felt like drowning.

And someday soon, the clock would run out.

You said you didn’t believe in soulmates.

You said it with certainty, with fire in your eyes, with conviction carved into every syllable.

“That timer is just a cruel game the universe plays,” you told him once, voice steady, fingers curled around your own wrist like you wanted to crush the numbers beneath your grip. "Love isn’t about some stupid numbers on your skin. It’s about choosing someone."

And then you had looked at him—really looked at him—like he was something inevitable. Something certain.

"I choose you, Minghao."

Ab na Heer kade dil da yaqeen kar paayegi

How could he not believe in you when you said it like that?

Minghao had spent his whole life believing in fate.

Believing in the weight of the numbers, in the invisible thread that wove two people together across time and space. His timer had been a promise. A quiet, patient thing ticking down with purpose, with certainty.

Fate had called your name, but it had not whispered his.

And yet, here you were—standing in front of him, eyes searching, hands trembling slightly at your sides, offering him everything despite the ticking clock on your wrist. Despite the fact that your soulmate was still out there, waiting.

Minghao should have walked away. Should have been noble. Should have let you go before you could regret this, before you could realize that love, without fate behind it, could still crumble.

But he had spent months loving you in silence. He had spent months letting you fill the spaces between his ribs, settling into his bones like a song he could never forget.

So he stepped closer.

“You can’t take it back,” he murmured, barely above a whisper.

You frowned. “What?”

“If you choose me, you can’t take it back. Not when your timer runs out, not when—” his voice broke, but he forced himself to continue—“not when you meet them.”

Something in your expression shifted. The way the light flickered across your face, the way your breath hitched like you suddenly realized what you were doing.

But then your fingers reached for his, slow, deliberate.

“I don’t care,” you said, voice shaking but firm. “I don’t care about a timer, or some stranger I haven’t met. I care about you, Minghao. And I choose you.”

It was everything he had ever wanted.

It was everything he had feared.

Because love was never just a choice. Love was cruel. Love was fate and timing and inevitability. Love was a thief, and it stole from him the moment your words settled between them like a vow.

Because one day your timer would run out.

And when it did—when you met the person you were supposed to belong to—Minghao knew you would leave.

Not because you wanted to. But because some things were stronger than words. Because fate always won in the end.

So he exhaled shakily, pressed his forehead against yours, and closed his eyes.

“Okay,” he whispered.

If this was all he would ever have of you, then he would take it.

Even if it destroyed him.

For a year, Xu Minghao believed he had conned fate. 

He convinced himself that love could exist outside of destiny. That the universe had miscalculated, that your hand in his was proof that numbers meant nothing.

And for a year, you were his.

Judi hai rahein saari tujhse meri

Every road, every path, every turn—somehow, they all led back to you.

It was in the mornings when he woke up to find you tangled in the sheets, your breathing slow, the weight of your arm draped over his chest like a quiet claim. Minghao never moved right away. He just lay there, memorizing the shape of you against him, the way the early light painted soft gold across your skin.

It was in the afternoons, where laughter spilled between you like an unspoken promise. The two of you existed in a world of inside jokes, of coffee shop debates over which pastry was superior, of whispered conversations in libraries where you barely managed to keep your voices down. You stole fries off his plate, he stole sips of your drink, and every moment felt like something infinite.

It was in the nights, when time folded in on itself, and there was only you. Only your voice, a quiet murmur against his shoulder. Only your hands, threading through his, pulling him deeper into a love he shouldn’t have had.

A love that shouldn’t have lasted.

Because your timer was still ticking.

Some nights, when the world was too quiet, he would trace patterns over your wrist with featherlight fingers, his touch lingering just long enough to make you ache. You would see it then—that fleeting sadness, the way his eyes darkened as if trying to memorize the numbers before they could betray him. Before they could betray both of you.

And so you would do the only thing you knew how to. You would curl yourself around him, press your lips to the hinge of his jaw, to the soft curve beneath his ear. You would kiss him until he forgot about it, until he forgot about everything but the way your body molded against his, the way your hands tangled in his hair, the way you whispered his name like he was the only future you could ever want, like he was something worth staying for.

So he loved you recklessly, desperately, like a man who had borrowed time and dared to believe it was his own.

For a while, it worked.

For a while, he let himself believe that your love was louder than fate.

And then—

Then your timer hit zero.

The day your timer hit zero, Minghao was at your apartment, waiting. The scent of your favorite takeout filled the space, boxes neatly stacked on the counter. He had set the table the way you liked—your favorite glass, extra sauce on the side, a pair of chopsticks resting beside his own. A quiet offering of comfort, a piece of him saying I know today was hard, but I am here.

When he heard the sound of your keys turning in the lock, he turned toward the door, ready to greet you with warmth, with open arms.

But the moment you stepped inside, something was different.

Your smile faltered, just barely. Your breath caught, almost imperceptibly. Your fingers hovered at your wrist, pressing into the skin as if trying to hold something in place, as if trying to stop time from moving forward.

Minghao had always been good at reading between the lines. He didn’t need to ask.

“It happened, didn’t it?”

His voice was too calm. Too steady. A whisper against the quiet, like speaking too loudly would make the walls collapse around you both.

You swallowed, your throat tight. “At the café,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

The words cut through the air, sharp and irreversible. Minghao exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting to the untouched meal he had laid out for you, as if the smallest details of your shared life could somehow keep you tethered to him. As if love could be measured in cups of jasmine tea and takeout containers.

“Do you love them?”

The question came quietly, but it landed like a blow. You flinched, your fingers curling into fists. “Minghao, I love you.”

He smiled, soft and broken. A tragedy dressed as tenderness. “But you met them.”

Silence.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. The truth sat between you, thick and heavy, an inevitable thing. Minghao felt his world shift, splintering like glass beneath too much weight.

He had always known this was coming.

He had spent a year looking at your wrist in the dead of night, feeling the pulse beneath his fingertips like a countdown to an ending he could not stop. He had spent a year memorizing you, loving you, hoping—God, hoping—that maybe you would never reach zero. That maybe love could defy mathematics.

That maybe, just maybe, you would choose him.

But here you were. And here he was. And fate had finally caught up.

You took a step toward him, hesitant. “Minghao, please—”

“Don’t,” he said, so gently it hurt.

Because he had promised himself he wouldn’t make this harder for you. Because he had sworn he would let you go with grace, no matter how much it tore him apart.

He forced a breath, blinking up at the ceiling, willing his voice to stay steady. “Did it feel like the universe sighing in relief?”

You let out a shaky breath. “Minghao—”

“It’s okay.” His hands clenched at his sides before slowly, deliberately, he let them go. “It’s okay,” he repeated, even though nothing about this was okay.

Because he had always known he was just borrowing time.

And then—

Your hand reached for his.

Not out of hesitation, not out of guilt, but with purpose. With conviction. And when he finally looked at you, your eyes were burning. Steady. Unwavering.

“No,” you said, and your voice was stronger than it had ever been. “It didn’t feel like relief. It felt like the end of the world.”

Minghao’s breath hitched.

“I met them,” you continued, stepping closer, pressing your palm against his chest, where his heart was unraveling. “And I felt it, that shift, that pull. But it wasn’t you.” Your voice wavered, but you held on, gripping his hands like a lifeline. “It wasn’t the person who knows how I take my coffee. It wasn’t the person who stays up with me on my worst nights, who makes me laugh when I think I’ve forgotten how.”

His fingers curled around yours, tentative, as if he was afraid to believe it.

You swallowed hard. “I know what fate says. I know what the universe wants. But I—” You exhaled shakily, eyes searching his, pleading for him to understand. To believe you. “I chose you, Minghao.” Your voice broke, but you kept going. “I choose you.”

You brought his hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, to the hands that had held you through every storm. “And I will keep choosing you.”

Minghao didn’t realize he was crying until you reached up, brushing the tears from his cheeks with your thumbs. His chest ached, torn between disbelief and the quiet, unbearable hope blooming in its place.

For a year, he had believed he was running on borrowed time.

He so desperately wanted to believe that time had never mattered at all.

Tu bhi kya yaad rakhega

Minghao wished he could forget. Wished he could peel every memory of you from his skin, let them slip through his fingers like grains of sand, like something never meant to be held onto in the first place.

But he knew he wouldn’t.

He would remember.

He would remember the way your laughter curled into the spaces between his ribs, how your touch had been an anchor, how every late-night conversation had felt like stitching his soul to yours.

You had carved yourself into him, written your name into the marrow of his bones, and there was no undoing it. No rewinding, no erasing. Only this—only the ruin you left behind.

You were crying. He wished he could hate you for it, wished he could feel something other than this unbearable ache, but all he wanted was to hold you, to wipe your tears away, to tell you that it was okay even when it wasn’t.

You tried to explain. You needed him to understand.

“It doesn’t change anything,” you whispered, voice trembling, breaking over the weight of the moment. “Meeting them—it doesn’t make my love for you any less real. It’s just… it’s different. It’s not stronger. It’s not—” Your breath hitched. “It’s not fair.”

It wasn’t. It never had been.

Tears streaked down your cheeks, and you gripped his hands like you were afraid he would slip away, like you could hold him here, with you, if you just held on tight enough. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Minghao exhaled, slow, steady. He looked at you—really looked at you. The person he had loved in a way that defied reason, the person who had turned his life into something softer, something worth waking up to.

And yet, fate had taken that love and cracked it in half.

Judi hain raahein saari tujhse meri

"My paths are tied to yours."

You said it like it was a promise. But it felt like a wound.

Minghao pulled his hands from yours, gently, like he was untying a knot that had held for too long. Like if he did it softly enough, it wouldn’t hurt as much.

“You say that,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “but your wrist says otherwise.”

Your face crumpled, and something inside him shattered.

Because love wasn’t supposed to be a war against destiny. Because love wasn’t supposed to be a choice between what you wanted and what the universe had written for you.

But here you were. And here he was. And the universe was still waiting.

You left anyway.

Not right away. At first, you fought it. You fought it because you loved him, because you chose him—or at least that’s what you kept telling yourself. You tried to pretend, tried to act as though nothing had shifted beneath the surface.

But Minghao was always watching, always noticing, even in the moments you thought you’d hidden the truth. He saw the quiet distance between your fingertips when you reached for him. He saw the way your eyes would glaze over, distant and lost, as though you were somewhere else, with someone else. He saw how your voice cracked when you mentioned them—their name—like it was nothing.

It was a betrayal he didn’t know how to describe, but he felt it all the same. The way the rhythm of your heart had started to slip out of sync with his, like the song that once belonged to both of you was now missing its key notes.

Your laughter, which once felt like home, was no longer his.

You didn’t want to hurt him, not really, but you couldn’t ignore what had happened.

“Minghao,” you said one night, your voice trembling as it fell from your lips. "I don’t want to hurt you."

He didn't answer right away, but the silence between you was as loud as a thousand storms crashing together.

Sona tha tera ve jhootha

Your gold-dipped promises had been false, empty, but it didn’t matter because he still loved you.

"Go," he said, his voice steady, almost cold in the dim light of the room. His heart was a hurricane, but his words were a calm before the storm. "You’re already halfway out the door."

The words were a punch to his own chest. They weren’t born out of anger, but out of this quiet, painful truth. He could feel the space between the two of you growing wider with every passing second, and he couldn’t force you to stay when your heart wasn’t there anymore.

He didn’t want to let go. He couldn’t let go. But he already felt your absence creeping into the corners of his mind, into the small, delicate spaces where you had once existed as his everything.

You froze at the door, the silence between you thick with the weight of what had come to pass. You knew it, too. The finality in his voice, the way he saw through every excuse you tried to tell yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, choking on the words that burned in your throat, words that had no place in this story, not anymore. "I never meant for this to happen."

Minghao didn’t move. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t beg you to stay. He couldn’t be the one to break and shatter everything when you had already made your choice.

“Go,” he repeated, quieter this time, but somehow that made it even worse. The absence of anger, the quiet surrender to what was inevitable.

The door clicked shut behind you, and Minghao stood there for a long time, staring at the space you once occupied.

But in the hollow silence, he heard your heartbeat, still tangled with his, still beating somewhere, even if it was no longer in sync with his own.

Lakh samjhaun main taan, dil samajh nahi paata

He told himself it was for the best. That this was the only way. He couldn't hold onto someone who was meant for someone else, someone who had already found their place, their soulmate. He kept repeating it in his head, like a mantra, like it was a truth he could believe in. But even the strongest words felt weak against the tide of his emotions.

But his heart, that damn heart of his—it didn’t listen. It never listened.

He couldn’t make it stop. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many times he told himself that this was what was right, what was logical, the truth always bled through—the truth of how much he still loved you. How much he always would.

And so he sat in the silence of his empty apartment, a place that used to feel like home, but now felt like a stranger’s house. The emptiness gnawed at him, not because of the space you’d left, but because of the parts of him that had vanished with you.

Rang do dinon mein chhoota

The color of your love faded faster than he could comprehend. The once-vibrant moments of tenderness between you two were now dull, drained, leaving behind only the cold ache of what could have been. What should have been. He could almost hear your laughter echoing in the silence, but it was distant, like a song on the wind that he could never quite reach.

How quickly it all fell apart. How quickly the thing he had fought for, the thing he had clung to with every part of himself, was slipping from his grasp, like sand through his fingers. His chest ached with it, a sharp, gnawing pain that refused to leave.

You were the one. He had known it. Fate had made that clear, even if fate had played some cruel game with him. How could something so perfect feel so incomplete now?

He didn’t hate you. He could never hate you. Not when you were the one his soul had always craved, the one he had always sought in his dreams, in his waking moments, in every fleeting thought.

But the bitterness lingered.

It lingered at the edges of his heart like a stain that wouldn’t wash away. He hated the universe for showing him something so beautiful only to rip it apart. He hated the fact that he had loved you so completely, only to be forced to let you go. He hated the feeling of emptiness that came with that love—empty but full of everything he would never get to have.

He sat there, in the dark, the silence louder than any words could ever be. He didn’t know when it would stop hurting. Maybe it never would.

Maybe he would just learn to live with the ache.

Years later, he saw you again.

It was at a bookstore, the kind where the scent of old paper clings to the air like nostalgia. Rain dripped from the edges of his umbrella, the soft patter against the pavement a soundtrack to his every step. He wasn’t expecting it. He wasn’t looking for you. Yet, there you were.

You were standing by the window, flipping through a novel, your face bathed in the soft glow of the lights above. You didn’t notice him at first, lost in the pages, your brow furrowed in concentration. But when you looked up and your eyes met his, everything inside him stopped.

His heart twisted.

“Minghao,” you said, your voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would break the moment.

“Hi,” he replied. His smile was practiced, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It was the kind of smile that lived in the places where pain and love collided, only to become something unrecognizable.

There was so much left unsaid between you two. So much more than the weight of those two syllables could carry. But you only said, “I still don’t believe in soulmates.”

He laughed. It was hollow, like an empty echo in a quiet room. “You don’t have to. The universe does.”

Har koi yaar nahi hunda, ve bulleya.

Not everyone gets to be a lover.

The words felt heavier in the space between you two, like a truth neither of you had ever really wanted to face.

He turned and walked away, the rhythm of his footsteps mixing with the rain's quiet murmur. He left you standing there, by the window, where light met shadow and memories lingered in the air.

The world felt smaller now, smaller than the spaces between your heartbeats.

Jaa, Raanjhan, Raanjhan, Raanjhan Go, Raanjhan. Go, the one I loved. Tu bhi kya yaad rakhega? What will you even remember? Jaa, Heer ne tainu chhod diya Go, for Heer has let you go.

tagging: @ottersmind @blvenote @kyeomsworld @cookiearmy @armycarat2612 @rjea @xylatox @flwrshwa

@christinewithluv @headlockimnida @letwiiparkjay @cherr-y-eji @codeinbelle @baguette-atiny @whoa-jo @noiceoofed @thestraybunny @smiileflower @gam3bo17

[unhakies]

00:00:00 . k. woonhak

synopsis — everyone’s born with a countdown timer for when they meet their soulmate. yours hits zero in the middle of a boring school day.

pairing: nonidol!woonhak x fem!reader, highschool au, half smau half written

genre: one-shot, comedy, fluff

warnings: none!

wc; 470

notes — not proof-read! reader face placeholder as asa (babymonster) , mentioned idols; boynextdoor, wonhee (illit) eunchae (lesserafim) sakuya (nct wish)

you always thought meeting your soulmate would be this dramatic display with fireworks and the cheesy 'stare into each-others eyes' segment. or maybe your heart would skip a beat, and the world would tilt a little.

well, safe to say the world did tilt, just not in the way you would've expected.

keep reading under the cut!

more writing under the pictures!

you groaned, eyes squinting up at the culprit. "i am SO-SO SORRY!" he started off before she could get a word in, "my brakes weren't working and-" you cut him off before he could continue spewing nonsense.

"it's you.." you muttered, staring at the 'tattoo' on your wrist that previously showed a random time, which now read '00:00:00'. it burned with a stinging sensation as it flashed multiple zeros.

"yes, i know i was the one that hit you but-" woonhak continued, kinda annoyed. he was obviously apologizing!

honestly how stupid was he? could he not feel this burning feeling on his arm?

"no- i mean-" you were cut off when your brother, taesan, came running from around the corner. "are you okay?" he glanced at your slightly disheveled person,

he helped you to your feet, making you lean on him. "woonhak you are so dead later." he glared at his younger friend who gulped.

"once again i'm sorry!" he bowed at a 90 degree angle as the siblings walked away.

"you idiot-" he started, hitting the back of your head. "ow! i was the one that got hit!" you shoved him, momentarily forgetting about the soulmate situation as your older brother dragged you off to the nurses office.

the two of you sat on the swings of some empty park. "so.." you started "should we address the elephant in the room?" you bit your lip awkwardly.

woonhak cleared his throat, rolling up his sleeve, as you did the same. "i never thought i would meet my soulmate via bike crash." you scoffed lightly.

"hey! for how long will you bring that up?" he whined, you laughed at him.

"just teasing!" you giggled, "what should we do?" you asked, your smile slowly falling.

"let's just go slow, theres no need to rush into things" he started, "well figure things out together." he looked at you.

"together." you repeated with a smile.

a few months later

the two of you walked hand in hand, wandering around the school, your feet taking you anywhere.

you stop at a familiar spot. "oh hey, do you remember this place?" you glanced at woonhak, who sighed. "yes, I hit you here.." he playfully rolled his eyes.

"you know.. maybe getting hit wasn't all that bad." you gave a cheeky grin as he complained "you dragged it on for a while year just to say that now?" he whined.

"If it means i get to spend forever with you."

"how cheesy." he complained, but he blushed nevertheless.

[oofthwoods]

── ˙ ̟ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 !!

🎙️ isn't it just so pretty to think? all along there was an invisible string tying you to me.

87% of individuals share a special bond with another person—someone they consider their soulmate. it's said that this connection is the universe's attempt to reunite the atoms that were once united before the big bang, almost like a cosmic apology for separating them in the first place.

can a formula one driver find their true love amidst the chaos of their fast-paced life? and do they even need to search when it feels like fate has already scripted their love story with every twist and turn?

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬) :: 2024!f1 grid x reader. | different one shots.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 :: warnings will be provided at the beginning of each one shot!

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: i am a hopeless romantic, and i love the concept of soulmate!au. that's it, that's the author's note.

˒ ⌕ — MASTERLIST

ᯓ★ you o'clock :: logan sargeant x reader.

⤷ soulmates who have a timer on their wrists counting down the minutes until they meet each other.

ᯓ★ steps to you :: lando norris x reader.

⤷ soulmates who can see each other's steps.

ᯓ★ lost and found :: charles leclerc x reader.

⤷ soulmates who find whatever the other has lost.

ᯓ★ transit love :: esteban ocon x reader.

⤷ soulmates who, once enter in a vehicle, are connected to each other.

ᯓ★ strings of fate :: lewis hamilton x reader.

⤷ soulmates who are connected through a red string.

ᯓ★ timeless :: carlos sainz jr. x reader.

⤷ soulmates who share memories from their past lives together.

ᯓ★ lock and key :: george russell x reader.

⤷ soulmates who are born holding pendants — one has a lock, the other has a key.

ᯓ★ freaky friday :: oscar piastri x reader.

⤷ soulmates who swap bodies randomly.

©️ oofthwoods — 2024.

[hwangjoanna]

'Red Light, Green Light.'

SKZ Squid Game AU

Hyunjin X Reader

Enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers

Dom/Hyunjin, Sub/Reader

Possessive & jealous Hyunjin

Hyunjin, Seungmin & Minho are all mean (sorry)

Felix and Jisung Besties (Soft boys)

Warnings - MDNI 18+, Gore, Violence, Mentions of death, Mass death, Threatening behaviour, Possessive Behaviour, Angst, Jealousy, Fluff, Hurt/comfort, Smut, Possessive sex, Pet-names, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Unprotected Sex, Hyunjin has Dacryphilia, Hyunjin is a yapper.

A/N - Once again thank you so much for supporting this series and sorry about how long it took for me to get this one out! I’ll try to be more regular with my posts! I wanted to have the series finished the day the new series releases (I’M SO EXCITED) but there’s so much left to go that it’s not happening 🤣 however the series will give me some more inspiration so that’s good!

Word Count - 7,448

Part 11

[Series Masterlist]

Chapter 12

One…

Two…

Three…

Hyunjin leans over you and grabs your wrist pulling you towards him, like a rag-doll in his grasp. His grip is bruising but he has no time to be soft in this moment, he pulls you flush to him with your feet planted between his on the path.

He saves you, like you did him during tug-of-war, but you have no time to thank him. You’re trembling against him; his body is warm, but your heart is racing. He makes eye contact with you, and it feels like time stops.

“If you die, thirteen. I’ll never forgive you.” He says with conviction. Fear floods his irises, mixed with longing that neither of you comments on as the light darkens.

Then you feel his lips against your ear, “Don’t worry, Sweetheart. He’s next.” He whispers, with malice. Not aimed at you but at the man who pushed you. “Ignore everything I’m about to say to you,” he adds. You’re disoriented when the path glows orange under your feet but you take in his words.

The player in front has a maniacal smirk and tuts realising he wasn’t successful in his efforts.

Hyunjin pulls you back to your place in line, in front of him. Tapping you on the left shoulder to follow the path, you can hear him counting the seconds under his breath. He’s clearly worked out how long it is till the lights go out again.

You continue following the path but you’re still shaking, The man in front keeps pausing to look back at you but Hyunjin nudges you to keep going. “Trust me,” he whispers behind you.

He continues to count then suddenly just before the lights go out he calls out to you, the player in front isn’t looking at the path, just at you. “The path changed go right, thirteen.” You stop, and the lights go out. You don’t go right.

Suddenly you hear player 145 scream, then a single gunshot rings out and you sob, holding your hand over your mouth trying not to move.

Seconds feel like hours as you wait to be able to see again.

And then, you can. The path returns and you see player 145 to the right of the path. His face is turned towards you, and blood spurts from his gunshot wound on his neck. His stare, lifeless and cold like his dead body. You shudder at the sight, tears streaming down your face. Hyunjin had done it on purpose, knowing he’d listen to his instructions for you.

You felt grateful but also sick at the thought, Hyunjin nudged you again, “Come on, baby.” He whispered gently. “We need to keep going.”

The lady behind him, her eyes like daggers looking at you but you pressed on. Hyunjin glances at the timer, “We have 4 minutes, we’re nearly there.”

You follow the path trying to clear your mind of what had just happened. You feel like his blood is on your hands, but he had pushed you first. Hyunjin was just protecting you, like he always did. The guilt you felt about the man slowly shifted to guilt for how you had treated Hyunjin. Yes, you were right for being mad at him for his actions but they also came from a place of insecurity, jealousy or maybe even a fear of losing you. You definitely wanted to bring it up to him if you make it through the game.

The room goes black and you pause. Trying to calm your crying, but you jump at the sound of another gunshot.

Fear strikes you, and you didn’t hear a scream to confirm who it was.

What if it’s him?

You almost begged for the light to never return, you didn’t want to see whether it was him or not.

But then, it comes back on anyway.

You slowly turn and there he is. He turns back to you after looking at the girl behind him off the path, dead.

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes, The three of you that are left are really close to the end so you start to walk faster, weaving through the path with focus and precision.

The light gets thinner as you move but you’re so determined to get to the other side that it doesn’t affect you.

You’re just about to reach the gate, and you look up.

30 seconds left.

The light goes out, you reach back and grab Hyunjin’s hand, and he laces his fingers through yours.

The five seconds pass, and you sprint through the gate. The other player follows you and you’re all safe.

You breathe a sigh of relief, and the dried tears on your face are covered by fresh ones.

A guard with a square mask guides you back to the game room but it all happens in a blur.

TRIANGLE 156 POV

I was livid.

I had asked that fucking player to push him. Player 320.

But he pushed player 013 instead, luckily that cunt saved her but it was grating on me that now she’d be in his debt. I didn’t like that.

She was mine to save.

I need to find a way to get her to trust me, sure I wasn’t being nice, far from it but I enjoyed getting a reaction out of her. I enjoyed hearing the hitch in her breath, the stutter in her soft voice and watching the tears falling down her beautiful face.

As I watched the next players go through the light maze I barely paid attention. I was too busy thinking about the next time I’d see her.

I was sweating underneath this stupid fucking uniform I had to wear, I liked the fact she feared me, not knowing who I was.

I needed to get her alone again so those men she involved herself with weren’t around to back her up or stop me.

She was going to feel my hands on her again.

That was a promise I kept for myself.

AUTHOR POV

Seungmin is pacing while Minho and Felix sit together. All their eyes were trained on the entrance to the main room.

“I hate waiting,” Minho comments, his voice strained.

Felix leans onto his shoulder, “I know, I’m so fucking scared Min, what if she doesn’t make-“

“Don’t say things like that,” Minho interrupts him. His voice cold, Felix can tell it’s his pain coming through from Jisung’s death so he doesn’t take it personally.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He whispers. Minho surprises him when he puts his arm around Felix’s shoulder. But he doesn’t comment on it.

Seungmin’s head bows, “FUCK!” He screams out, and Felix and Minho jump from the sound. “She better not die, he better not die.” He speaks as if to himself while he continues pacing.

“They won’t, they have each other I’m sure,” Minho responds.

Felix can’t help but hate the thought of it, the game driving them closer. But there’s nothing he can do about it. He doesn’t hate Hyunjin but he really isn’t a fan of how he acts around you. His pulse spikes as he hears the creak of the door opening.

Then, you’re there.

Walking hand in hand with Hyunjin. He doesn’t know what to do. He wants to run and hold you but instead stands as you both cross the room to the group.

Y/N POV

As you make your way to the group you catch the way they all look at you. All of them glowing, relief flooding their features.

You remove your hand from Hyunjin’s grasp as Seungmin rushes to you.

He pulls you to him, his arms around your waist, lifting you slightly as he does it.

“Hey,” you whisper to him. You can feel his smile in the crook of your neck.

He pulls back to get a better look at you. “You scared me for a second there.” He says, his hand finding your wet cheek, “You’re okay?” He asks.

You nod, “Yes, Seungmin I’m okay. Are you?” You say softly.

“I am now that you two are back.” He grins like a puppy and you can’t help but giggle.

Hyunjin stands awkwardly, his eyes dancing between the two of you. His face, unreadable.

He steps beside you again and puts his hand possessively around your hip. He squeezes, firmly but not enough to hurt. You softly smile at him, “Can you give me a sec?” You say pulling away and making your way to Felix and Minho.

Hyunjin watches for a moment, “I’m just gonna go clean up.” He mutters, to himself. He walks to the bathroom but Seungmin catches up and hugs him, Hyunjin’s body goes stiff for a moment before he relaxes and taps Seungmin lightly on the back.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Seungmin says honestly.

Hyunjin’s mouth pulls into a line, and he nods. “You too.” Then he turns on his heel.

You walk up to the others and Felix looks at you like you’re some kind of goddess, his eyes all over your form.

“Thank god,” he mutters before stepping into your space and hugging you tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

Minho comes around both of you and slots himself into the space. Forming a group hug that makes your heart jump, the intimacy of it is not wasted on you. You feel grateful to have these men who care for you and each other.

“I said you’d be fine,” he says as you all step back from the hug. Seungmin comes over and you all stand in a circle. “I knew Hyunjin would take care of you,” Minho adds with a wink.

You scoff a laugh, “Didn’t think I could take care of myself, hmm?” You add.

Minho rolls his eyes but you know it’s in jest, “Oh, I know you can kitten. But it just felt better knowing he was with you.”

You nod, understanding him completely. You felt the same knowing he and Felix had each other.

You look around realising Hyunjin hadn’t returned yet. “He saved me.” You say absentmindedly as your eyes search the room for him.

“Well, he owed you one.” Seungmin chuckles.

You all laugh then, “Yeah, I guess.” You reply but your mind is elsewhere. You need to speak to him, to make sure you’re both okay after the game, the argument, and all the tension. You need to get it over with.

“I’m just gonna check on him,” you say out loud but not looking back at the others as you walk quickly towards the bathroom.

When you push the door open he’s leaning over the sink his hands cupped with water that he splashes onto his beautiful face. It drips down making his honeyed skin look delicious. You pause taking him in. His long limbs, his buzzcut that’s a little longer than the day you met, his roots black under the blonde.

His eyes are dark, full of unspoken thoughts. He glances at you through the mirror and stops running his hands over his face. He looks at you like he’s sad but also hungry.

None of you says anything for a moment.

Then, you walk to him, unwavering. Your steps are sure. He remains still, his eyes still locked on you.

As you come closer he turns to you, he looks down at your lips for a moment before making eye contact that burns through you.

“I’m sorry-“ he begins but you silence him. Your lips crash onto his, you pull on his numbered t-shirt, the fabric soft under your touch.

His hands move to your cheeks, cupping them with a brutal grip, The kiss is messy, wet from him washing his face and all-consuming.

You open your mouth and Hyunjin’s tongue claims yours. He’s relentless, groaning as he kisses you like he’ll stop breathing if he can’t have you. Everything you want to say to him is spoken through the kiss.

You feel yourself heating up from the intensity of it so you pull your jacket off and he notices. He grabs you by the waist and lifts you onto the bathroom counter in one swoop. Your jacket, left on the floor, forgotten. His mouth starts to trail down your jaw and your breath hitches from the contrast of the cold counter under you and the heat of his mouth.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says against your neck, but it’s muffled because he’s still nipping and kissing your skin. His body is slotted between your legs and his hands run down your thighs, needing the skin through your track pants.

Neither of you cares about the fact that someone could walk in at any moment. You only care about the way he’s making you feel, the way you want to make him feel. You know you need to talk, you want to apologise, to thank him but his tongue gliding over your skin is so addictive.

In a moment of clarity you push him back, just enough to look at him. His brow furrows and he almost pouts, it’s adorable.

“I’m sorry,” you mirror his words. “I-You-“ you sigh, pausing to think of what to say. But he speaks for you instead.

“I’m sorry, my… jealousy, it wasn’t fair to blame it on you. Not after Jisung.” He says, his eyes glassy with lust but you know he’s being honest, vulnerable. He’s never spoken to you with that voice. Delicate and nervous.

“That game, it-“ Hyunjin continues when you don’t respond. “It scared me when he pushed you, I don’t want to lose you.”

You can’t help but well up at his words. Your jaw hangs open in disbelief that he would open up to you. His feelings are on full display for you to do what you want with them.

His eyes follow a tear that falls down your cheek and his pupils dilate. He leans towards your face, looking back into your gaze through his lashes and his tongue darts out.

Then, he licks the tear away and kisses the corner of your mouth. “You know what that does to me thirteen,” his voice is low, laced with sin.

He grabs your jaw, his grip possessive. “You’re such a pretty crier.” He whispers against your lips.

You mirror his lustful eyes and whisper back to him. “Do you know what you do to me?” You smirk.

He kisses you again, his pillowy lips brushing yours sensually like he’s trying to ground himself. His hand still holds your jaw whilst the other squeezes your waist.

As you lose yourself in the kiss, the door creaks open and the two of you stop but he doesn’t step away.

Another player walks in and looks at both of you and you flush with embarrassment. It’s very obvious what you’ve been doing but Hyunjin just looks at him nonchalantly, like he hasn’t just licked your face.

The man walks into the stall and both of you start giggling like school kids who got caught behind the bleachers.

The man finishes but doesn’t bother washing his hands, he rushes out not glancing back. You’re grateful but cringe at the thought.

Hyunjin looks up at you with a huge smile on his face and you coo at him. “What is it?”

“Nothing, just wish we had somewhere a little more private,” he chuckles, looking down at your form. He licks his lips absentmindedly.

“I was scared too,” you decide to return the sentiment, he was open with you so you might as well be too.

He looks back up at you, his face turning more serious.

“When that guard-“ you began but Hyunjin took your hands, lightly running his thumbs over them.

“Don’t think about him, sweetheart.” He says, softly.

You sigh, trying to get your words out, “The game today, I was scared that you would die and the last thing I said to you was to fuck off.” You look down at your joined hands. “The whole time I was thinking how stupid our argument was compared to the risk that I wouldn’t get to speak to you again.” You say, tears still falling, you couldn’t believe you were being so open with your feelings, especially towards Hyunjin. Felix is easy to open up to, so was Jisung but trusting Hyunjin enough in this moment was freeing and suffocating at the same time.

You didn’t trust very easily. Not after him.

But Hyunjin had saved you. He had said ‘If you die thirteen, I’ll never forgive you.’

That spoke volumes.

Hyunjin leaned into you slowly, moving his hands to stroke your wet cheeks. He gazes into your eyes with a look you can’t place. Desire, devotion, sadness?

“Can I have you?” He asks, his voice dropping. “Please, baby.”

You wanted him to have you, so badly. At the moment you had no care for the fact that you were there, in a bathroom, in the game.

You nod and he smirks. His hands are moving underneath your t-shirt. His touch is pure fire, his fingers graze your skin possessively. They soon find your nipples and he strokes them through your lace bra as his mouth returns to yours.

His kisses are maddening, he pinches at your buds whilst licking your lips like a man starved. You feel his erection rubbing up against your inner thigh. He bucks his hips impatiently and groans into your mouth.

His hands trail down to the waistband of your track pants and he pulls at them as he leaves open-mouthed kisses along your jawline. You lift your hips to help him remove them and he chuckles against your neck.

“Good girl, always so pliant for me,” Hyunjin says, his tone sending shivers down your spine.

Your teal track pants and lace panties join your hoodie on the floor and he pulls you to the edge of the countertop.

“Spread your legs, sweetheart. Let me see that pretty pussy.” He whispers.

You do as he asks, your heartbeat races in your chest as you watch him look down at your dripping cunt.

His eyelids grow heavy as he brings his fingers to where you want them most. Hyunjin gently caresses your folds and you gasp at the contact.

“So wet for me already, fuck.” He says with a contented sigh. His fingers dip into your hole shallowly collecting your arousal then he circles your clit slowly.

You moan and his smile grows wider. “H- Hyunjin,” you stutter, breathlessly. Already feeling overwhelmed. His forehead rests against yours as he continues to tease your opening. “Say my name again.” He commands.

“Hyunjin, ahh.” You moan as he pushes two fingers inside of you curling them upwards finding your g-spot with ease. Your legs tremble as he starts to finger fuck you.

“Mmm, there she is.” He says in response to your pussy clenching around his fingers. You feel your orgasm building as he pushes into you with precision. He’s only done this once before and yet he knows exactly how to work you open.

His thumb rubs against your clit as he continues his ministrations. You’re panting now, the sensation flooding your lower abdomen. Your pussy starts to quiver, your legs practically vibrate against his hips that are keeping you spread for him.

“I think she missed me,” he says with mouth against your neck as he starts to suck on the hollow of your throat.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp. “Please don’t stop.” You beg, and he licks at the purple mark he’s left on you.

“That’s right, baby. Beg for it.” He says.

You feel yourself on the edge of ecstasy, his fingers don’t stop. “Please, I’m gonna come.” You whimper.

“Fuck, come for me. I wanna feel you baby.” He responds, his fingers driving into your hole faster now and you melt into your orgasm. You cry out as it washes over you. He works you through it and slows as you come down.

He removes his fingers gently and brings them to his lips, his eyes boring into yours as he sucks on them. “Mmm, just as sweet as I remember.” He says when he pulls them out with a pop.

You reach to pull his track pants and boxers down and he watches in awe. His thick cock springs free and his pink tip leaks with precum.

You salivate at the memory of it against your tongue. You run your thumb over the head of his cock and he hisses at the sensation. You pump it a few times and spread your legs wider, inviting him in.

He takes over and rubs it against your folds, his heavy length feels heavenly against your sensitive pussy.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you every day since I laid eyes on you, thirteen.” He says glancing up at you. He starts to push his cock into your entrance, inch by inch and it causes you to whimper at the intrusion. He groans as he shallowly pumps in and out a few times before pushing all the way in.

You gasp and he kisses you, driving his dick deeper still. You moan into his mouth and he hums in response. Your arms engulf him and you scratch against his back, the fabric of his t-shirt stopping you from drawing blood. He groans at the feeling. His hand holds one of your thighs keeping you spread open whilst the other glides up to your throat, he rests his palm against it and starts to fuck you harder, his pace building.

He pulls his mouth away, your faces close as his half-lidded eyes meet yours. “So fucking tight, so fucking perfect,” Hyunjin says, his breath fanning against your skin.

“Fuck, Hyunjin.” You moan.

His hips snap into yours at a ruthless pace, his cock bullying your hole deliciously. “That’s my girl, take it. Take everything I give you.” He grunts.

Your pussy clenches at the pet name and he stutters a breath. “Fuck, you like that. Don’t you?” He chuckles, breathlessly.

You nod frantically, your voice gone. He’s fucking you so good that you can barely form a sentence at this moment. His cock edges you and you choke out a sob.

“Fuck, ahh.” He calls out, as he watches tears start to fall down your features. His pupils are blown out and his hand now starts to grip your throat possessively.

You cry from the sheer amount of pleasure he’s giving you. It’s so intense you can’t help it. His cock twitches inside of you, pushing into your sopping cunt.

“My girl, my fucking pussy,” he says through gritted teeth. “Say it, tell me you’re mine.” He demands. His hand still round your throat, his cock driving into you at a relentless pace. Your eyes roll back and you can feel yourself coming closer to another orgasm.

“I’m yours,” you scream out. “Only yours, Hyunjin.”

“Fuck, god you’re so perfect.” He moves his hand to grip your hair and pulls your head down to see where you meet. “Look at that, baby. Look how well you’re taking me.”

His long thick cock is soaked in your arousal, glistening in the low light of the bathroom. His breath is staggered now. Your cunt sucks him in and you feel his hand that’s not in your hair move to your clit.

“Can you give me one more, sweetheart?” He pulls your head up again to meet his gaze.

“Please, I’m so close.” You whimper and he flicks at your clit perfectly. His mouth kisses your tears on your cheeks, your lips, your jaw, and your neck. Like he can’t decide where he wants to touch you more.

“Ahh, Hyunjin. Yes- please. FUCK!” You scream out as you come on his cock. The lewd sounds of your wet cunt bounce off the bathroom tiles but in the moment you don’t care how loud you’re being.

“Good girl, mmm. Now I’m gonna fill you up.” He grunts. His hand moves to your throat again, and you gasp as his thrusts pick up. His forehead presses against yours for a moment, you can feel his cock pulsing in your pussy, the drag of it is so intoxicating. He starts babbling, saying how you’re a good girl, how perfect you feel, how you’re his. Your pussy clenches around his length again at the praise and he groans. “Fuck I’m gonna come, fuck- Y/N!” He spills into you and kisses you as he does. He pushes into you deep and his body shudders as his cock throbs with his release. Then, he starts laughing against your mouth, breathlessly.

Hyunjin leans his full weight onto you, still buried inside your heat. His arm circles your waist and the other wraps around the back of your neck gently. Your hands find their way to his buzzed hair, holding him against you.

He starts softly kissing your throat where his fingers dug in. “Did I hurt you?” He whispers.

You scoff a laugh at how sweetly he asks after roughly handling you. “No, I think I’ve had worse in here. Don’t you?” You say.

You feel him smile against your skin and he chuckles, “mmhmm,” he hums after.

He pulls your hair to the side, continuously kissing under your ear. The contrast between the sex you just had to the delicate way he’s treating you now isn’t lost on you.

It’s like he wants to show you what it meant for him, for you to give yourself fully to him.

After a moment you begin to pull back and your eyes meet. He looks completely fucked out, his irises dance blissfully. A lazy smile graces his swollen lips.

He leans over you grabs a paper towel and runs it under the faucet. All whilst still buried inside you. You watch him as he does admiring the afterglow that makes him look even more ethereal than he normally does.

He pulls out halfway, the wet paper towel in hand. Then he slowly drags out his dick, you can tell he’s thinking about your comfort as he does so. He presses the towel to your aching cunt and you whine at the cool sensation.

“Sorry,” he whispers.

“It’s okay, just cold.” You say, quietly.

You take over wiping yourself down and he grabs another one. Cleaning your mixed juices off of himself. He pulls his boxers and track pants up, then grabs your clothes and starts dressing you. His hands glide over you like you’re made of glass. You wordlessly lift your hips while he does so.

When he’s done he glances at you, almost timidly.

But then his eyes light up as they flicker over your features. “You okay, pretty?” He asks.

You flush at the attention, mentally praising whatever god made him so good at aftercare.

“I’m alive, so there’s that.” You joke and both of you laugh together. He steps towards you and his palm cups your cheek.

“You know what I meant.” He comments, feigning annoyance, rolling his eyes at you.

“I’m good- really good.” You say, sweetly smiling at him and he grins back, cocky.

Then he kisses you again, his lips slide over yours effortlessly, like the two of you are meant to fit together.

“We should head back,” Hyunjin says after a few minutes. “The others might be worried, or-“ then he smirks. “Suspicious.”

You both giggle and then he sighs contentedly as he stretches up his arms exposing his lean stomach and you internally curse yourself for staring.

He holds his hand out to you but you don’t take it.

“I’m just gonna freshen up in the girls' bathroom then I’ll see you out there.” You say and he nods.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long, sweetheart.” He jokes.

You roll your eyes walking towards the opposite bathroom. “Don’t miss me too much, lover boy.” You jest sarcastically and he belts out a short laugh and walks into the main room.

AUTHOR POV

Triangle 156 was exhausted after the game, he had eliminated a few players today. It felt rewarding knowing that he was further along in his plans to have Player 013 win.

Another guard entered the room, “Triangle 156, 024 and 009, you’re done here. You can head back to your rooms.” Square 311 instructed.

Triangle 156 gave a nod, put the safety back on his AR and proceeded through a staff corridor.

His anger for player 320 was still living under his skin, he’d need to get rid of him sooner or later and stop player 013 from getting too close.

Though he also knew she’d have more men to run to, the little bitch was like that. Easy to love, easy to manipulate but so fucking beautiful. The kind of woman any man would want. He cursed himself for thinking about her so much, he remembered the feeling of her trembling lip under his thumb during the game. How he wanted to do it again, to have her begging on her knees for him. His cock twitched in his pants but he paid it no mind.

He decided to take the long route back to his room, he needed to walk the anger and arousal off. He couldn’t go to the main hub CCTV room to watch her like he wanted to. He couldn’t continue to break rules, he had been instructed to go to his room but that didn’t mean he couldn’t take a peek at the bathrooms on his way.

As he walked into the viewing room for the women’s bathroom, he heard two ladies speaking but when he reached the double mirror it was players 002 and 199 gossiping. He turned on his heel and made his way to the men’s viewing room.

When he walked in the first thing he heard was a man and woman moaning. He paused, should he look? He decided he wanted to. He didn’t have his phone so he couldn’t watch porn here and he hadn’t been able to masterbate out of fear there were cameras in his room.

He turned the corner and then he saw you.

Your legs spread open, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks and him.

Player 320, fucking into you roughly, his hips between your silky legs with his hand squeezing your throat. There were bruises on you, you looked beautiful, all fucked out. Gasping and moaning.

Sweat was dripping down player 320’s face. He was looking into your eyes like a man starved. “My girl, my fucking pussy,” he said, his pupils blown.

Triangle 156 felt the anger growing in his stomach, low and raw. His dick was hard watching you but he was seething at player 320’s claim over you.

“Say it, tell me you’re mine.” He continued. Triangle 156 could tell you were close from the way your eyes rolled into your skull. He knew you were going to say it for him but he didn’t want to hear the words leave your swollen lips so he walked out abruptly.

Slamming open the door as he rushed down the corridor to his room. His cock strained against pants, but his blood boiled with rage.

He had gone for a walk to let go of the anger.

Now he was in his room, aroused and even more livid, with your name on his tongue.

Y/N POV

After having your post-sex pee and wash you head back to the main room. An anxious feeling fills your stomach. What if Hyunjin told the boys? You’re not sure why it would bother you if he did. It wasn’t a secret you were into each other but what would Felix think?

You weren’t stupid enough to know there wasn’t something between the two of you, although neither of you had spoken about it.

You approached the group cautiously. Hyunjin was speaking with Minho, his hands waving animatedly as he did. Minho's smile was apparent as he listened to him and you feel your chest get tighter.

Seungmin and Felix were laughing about something. Their voices a higher pitch than normal trying to contain themselves.

You were grateful, and the boys seemed happy. Well as happy as one could be in here. It made you wonder whether they’d be friends in the outside world. Maybe Felix and Hyunjin would even get on if you weren’t a factor in their lives.

However, you couldn’t let yourself feel negative right now. Not when things seemed to be a little better since Jisung’s death. You thought about him, his playful laugh, his sweet smile, and how he was always there to bring you back from those bad moments.

Minho’s voice broke through, “Ahh, there she is. You okay kitten?” He asks, but his tone is teasing.

You glance at Hyunjin, and he winks at you, his tongue pressed into his cheek. His eyes sparkle under the lights of the room.

“Yeah, fine.” You respond, almost too bluntly.

Minho beckoned you to them with a wave of his hand. You step forward and he moves away from Hyunjin, patting the seat for you to join them. You reluctantly oblige, still a little hesitant.

The bed feels soft under you, having spent so much time sitting on the bathroom counter you welcome the comfort of the mattress.

“We were just talking about you,” Hyunjin said, but it came out like a loaded statement.

“Oh?” You say, your eyes meet and you can tell he’s enjoying watching the fear on your face.

Instead Minho responds, “yeah we were trying to guess what everyone did for a living outside of this shit hole.” He says with a chuckle.

Hyunjin scoffs a laugh as your shoulders drop with relief, and you let out a sigh. “And what was your guess, hmm?” You say, leaning back onto your palms so you could see both of them.

“Well, I said a lawyer.” Minho replies, a teasing smirk on his lips. You quirk an eyebrow in disbelief and he continues. “You’re diplomatic, fiery, powerful. You’d be a perfect lawyer.”

You scoff, a slight blush on your cheeks from the compliment, “You really think I’m a lawyer!” You exclaim, you start laughing and so do they. “Why would a lawyer need money and be in here. I’m not a lawyer, no.” You say, with a shake of your head.

“I don’t know, you could have a gambling addiction, like me,” Minho says but his face falls into a slight frown at the end of his sentence.

You and Hyunjin stop laughing and both observe him.

“That’s why you’re in here?” Hyunjin asks, gently.

Minho hums, “Yeah, I’m not proud of it.” He looks down at his hands which are fidgeting in his lap. “I kinda lost everything because of it, I even lost my parents’ house because of it… I’m a terrible son.” His eyes are glassy as he speaks.

You and Hyunjin glance at each other, you reach Minho's hand and clasp it in yours, bringing it to your lap. “You’re not a bad son Minho. You’ve just made a mistake. You’re here now to make up for it. I’m sure your parents still love you very much.”

Minho meets your gaze. His eyes dance over your features for a moment, as if he’s figuring out what to say and then he speaks. “Do you think your parents would still love you?” The question comes out as a mumble but you flinch at the mention of them, taking your hands away from Minho.

Both of them look at each other, and you can tell they noticed the change in your demeanour.

“Urm, well I don’t know if they would. They were very distant when I was growing up.” You say, quietly.

“And now?” Hyunjin asks.

“They passed a few years ago.” You reply, you’re hunched over now, hugging your knees to your chest.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry y/n,” Minho says. “I shouldn’t have said anything-“

“Don’t be silly, you didn’t know.” You interrupt. “It’s okay, I’m okay,” he looks at you with pity and you can’t help but hate it. “Really.” You want him to stop looking at you like that but he doesn’t, he stays fixed in that way. Instead, you turn to Hyunjin but his expression is unreadable.

After a few moments of silence, Hyunjin speaks. “Mine were distant too.” His gaze isn’t on you anymore, it’s like he’s trying to look anywhere but you and Minho. You can tell there’s something in the way he’s said it that it’s an uncomfortable subject for him, and yet he’s offering the information freely. Again, being open and honest with you. Like he wanted to steer the conversation to himself, saving you from having to speak about your parents’ death. You wondered what had been the turning point for him. Was it the game today? He had said to you that he was scared of losing you.

“Well I mean, distant emotionally but if anything they were suffocating.” He continues. “My mother was cold, my father, strict. I didn’t do anything right growing up, I was scolded constantly.” He paused, then, he met your gaze. His eyes locked on yours, his look is almost pleading. As if he’s saying this is hard for me.

You take his hand in yours. He takes a breath.

“My father was… abusive.” He states, hesitantly.

“Fuck.” Minho says under his breath.

You bring your hand to his cheek, you don’t care that Minho’s there. You don’t care about anyone else in the room at that moment. You stroke his soft skin with your thumb to comfort him, but he’s still watching you. His eyes longing, he leans into your touch and you can’t help but kiss his temple. The gesture is so tender that he closes his eyes and sighs.

Minho gets up and walks away, giving you both privacy. Like he’s read into the moment, he doesn’t say anything. You and Hyunjin observe him as he does then you look at each other again. Hyunjin moves towards you, and his knee presses against yours.

“I don’t like that,” you say. He just waits for you to continue. “He hurt you?”

He nods.

“How could he do that to someone so beautiful. So innocent. You were just a child.” You whisper.

Hyunjin moves again, taking your face in his palms. “I’ve never told anyone that before.” He whispers back against your lips, then he presses them onto yours. The kiss is gentle and sweet, nothing like how he usually kisses you. You gasp and wrap your arms around his neck, and the connection you feel becomes emotional. Like you understand him deeper than before. The room and everyone in it melt away and it’s just him that matters.

The kiss is brief but holds so much. He pulls away resting his forehead against yours but then reality hits you like a slap in the face because Seungmin calls over to both of you. “Ew, get a room!”

You both snap your necks turning to him. He laughs at your reaction, along with Minho.

You hide your embarrassment by laughing with them. “Someone jealous?” Hyunjin chuckles, pulling you by the waist. You swat him, playfully. “Ow.” He jests.

“Please, of a kiss?” Seungmin scoffs, “I don’t kiss,” he’s looking directly at you as he speaks. You can practically feel his hands on you again the way he’s looking at you. Hyunjin squeezes your waist possessively and you internally roll your eyes at how they’re both behaving. The sweet moment between you and Hyunjin feels like it happened in an alternate universe. Minho is still laughing at the exchange but when you look at Felix, he is not. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t engage. He’s almost cold in his demeanour, very different to how he usually is with you and it makes your heart sink. He must have seen you and Hyunjin. You almost feel guilty, but you think if he wanted you he could have said something, he could have made a move.

Seungmin breaks you out of the staring contest you’re having with Felix when he speaks again. “But jealous of whatever you two were up to in the bathroom?” You shoot daggers then, and Seungmin smirks, like he’s enjoying getting a rise out of teasing you. “Very.” He winks at you and you wish in that moment the ground would swallow you whole. Minho then folds over squeaking when he laughs, Seungmin chuckles, his eyes still on your annoyed expression. Hyunjin pulls you onto his lap, “Guess our little secret is out, sweetheart.” He whispers against your neck and you shiver. Goosebumps trail over your skin, your face is red and that’s when you actually roll your eyes. You look back to where Felix was sitting but he’s gone, already walking towards the bathroom. Seungmin follows your gaze, then looks back at you shaking his head. “Such a pretty little brat.” He mutters, referring to your eye roll and pissed off face. “Why don’t you follow him in, thirteen. Come on, give the poor boy a taste.”

Hyunjin’s grip on your waist tightens, it’s almost bruising. These men were gonna be the fucking death of you before any game has the chance. Two can play at that game, you think to yourself. You pull away from Hyunjin and stand, You walk slowly towards Seungmin and his smirk deepens, he thinks he has you right where he wants you but then you grab his jaw, you lean in so close to him that your lips are centimetres away from his.

“Thirteen,” Hyunjin says, like a warning. You ignore him completely. You focus strictly on making Seungmin embarrassed. Seungmin looks thoroughly entertained. He gives you elevator eyes.

“And make you even more jealous, puppy.” You hold him there for a beat, you feel his pulse spike under your fingertips. Then, you lean in again your lips ghost over his and you push him away, his back hits your bed that he’s been sitting on and you laugh.

Hyunjin sighs, in relief and cackles. He claps loudly and dramatically and you turn back to him and plonk yourself back onto his lap. Minho is sitting on the floor now, his back again the bed frame, he’s breathless with laughter.

Felix returns but he doesn’t even look at you. He just mutters under his breath, “I’m gonna take a nap.” He climbs up to his bed without another word and you all exchange glances but no one says anything.

Seungmin sits up a little, still leaning back on his elbows. “You’re trouble, thirteen.” He scoffs.

“I know.” You reply, simply.

AUTHOR POV

Triangle 156 stood in the main hub, watching the CCTV in the main room. He saw you sitting on player 320’s lap, you both speaking and laughing together like you weren’t locked in here. Player 320’s hand ran up your thigh as Player 143 spoke to the two of you. There was sound but Triangle 156 wasn’t listening, his gaze was fixed on the way Player 320’s fingers ran across your teal track pants.

He was clenching his jaw, his hands balled into fits at his side.

The masked leader unbeknownst to him was watching. A light chuckle escaped his lips. He approached Triangle 156 from behind, his steps heavy on the floor. “Your obsession with her hasn’t gone unnoticed by other workers.” He said ominously through his angler mask.

Triangle 156 turned to him, his gloved hands relaxed slightly at his side, willing himself not to give away his frustration. He didn’t answer, not verbally. He couldn’t bring himself to, so instead he nods.

The masked leader’s head tilts slightly to the side as if he’s reading him behind the mask. “You have permission to intervene when necessary,” he began. Triangle 156’s mouth dropped open in shock at his words, but of course, the masked leader couldn’t see his reaction, so he continued. “I’ll repeat myself, only when necessary, the viewers are enjoying seeing her unravel. They are pleased to see the fear on her face when you’re near her. They want her challenged, tested. You, however, do not have permission from me personally, to touch her inappropriately. Do I make myself clear?”

Triangle 156 paused as if waiting for a moment to speak. Did he know how he felt about you?

“Yes sir,” he replied with a bow.

“You may go to her now, scare her if you wish. I’ll be watching. Do not cause any disorder.” The masked leader’s voice sounded out above the hum of the CCTV.

“Yes sir,” another bow, with that Triangle 156 briskly walked out of the room. One person is set in his sights.

You.

Chapter 13 - Out Now!

Please do not copy my work!

Images in banner are not mine!

Dividers by - @sisterlucifergraphics

Taglist - @eridanuswave @astro-des @ot8girlfie @fairylix @estellan0vella @nightmarenyxx @missygore @mysterysold @chloe-elise-2000

@minhosglasses @akindaflora @minniesverse @riri53 @hhwangsmoon

[spxllcxstxr]

Shitshow at the Soulmate Factory (I) • R.R

(Gif not mine)

Request: Please I'm begging on hands and knees, I'll take any Roman or Tom fic. Anything. I would do desperate things for it. Kisses xxx! I honestly love the countdown soulmate au, just running into each other unexpectedly is a really adorable thing for me. Maybe they are late from somewhere and they run into reader, could be whatever. You can also ignore it. If I may I would like she/her reader, but I'm fine with gender neutral reader also. — anon

Summary: In less than twenty-four hours you’ll meet your soulmate. Your friend drags you to some weird underground private party

Warnings: soulmate AU, logan roy mention (also quick mention of abuse), mention of drugs and alcohol and all that shit, not a lot of dialogue I’m sorry lmao, 9/11 mention? (iykyk)

Word Count: 1.5k

A.N: first Roman fic!!! This was actually going to be a blurb and then I kept fucking writing. I hope his characterization is ok, if you have any tips don’t be afraid to let me know!! Hope you all enjoy!

Next Part: (WIP)

•

Roman had never cared for the timer on the inside of his elbow. The black bold numbers inked permanently into his flesh. It was always hidden away underneath expensive suit shirts and well-tailored business jackets. It was a ticking time bomb; never to be acknowledged until it finally blew him to bits.

Or, in this case, meet his soulmate (though to him, that was one and the same).

It's not like he wasn't curious about who some higher power judged to be his soulmate--because he was. It was, however, more of a morbid curiosity. He was Roman Roy for fuck's sake, no one should be tied to him.

His father never talked about his own timer, the one time he ever asked about it he got backhanded so hard he face planted onto the tiled floor beneath his feet. That was that. He laughed it off afterwards, when Ken was placing ice against his bruised cheek. He really should've known.

Kendall had spent months convincing Rome and his other siblings that his timer went off when he first met Rava in college, though they got divorced so he highly doubted that was the case. And if it was? Well shit. That didn't bode well for the rest of them.

Shiv's situation confirmed that he was doomed. Despite Roman being in charge of her soon-to-be husband's bachelor party, his sister once drunkenly confided in him that her timer had went off years before she even heard the name Tom Wambsgans. The next morning, when she called him with a splitting headache, she said she couldn't remember anything she told him the night before. She was fucked too.

Connor was Connor and Roman was sure he had ranted about his at one point, but whatever goes in one ear goes out the other with him.

So when Roman glances at his timer in the mirror it feels like a cooler full of ice water just got dumped on him. His body is frozen but his skin crawls with anxiety. Today was the day. In less than twenty-four hours he was to meet the person he was destined to be with.

What a sick cosmic joke.

He bites his nails and paces the length of his kitchen as he waits for his driver to get to his apartment. By the time he's seated in the back of the car with the smell of worn leather overwhelming his senses the thought is pushed so far back in his mind that he barely remembers why his fingers are absentmindedly stroking the inside of his elbow.

You, on the other hand, were the complete opposite.

The timer on your wrist was frequently the topic of discussion both with your friends and in your personal journal. It had always been exciting, the guaranteed notion that you were going to meet the love of your life.

Your friends had married their soulmates which had made you believe even more in the timer. The people around you were happy with what the universe had promised and you just wanted that to be you already. You were content waiting but that never stopped you from watching the numbers tick down whenever you could spare a glance.

The childish romanticism of the timer never faded throughout your life.

It kept you going--you woke up in the morning because you needed to know what, or, rather who, the universe had in store for you.

You were jittery in the morning. Not just because your friend was forcing you to join her and a couple others at some underground private club, but also because your timer had indicated that today, of all days, you were going to meet your soulmate. Every inch of you buzzed with excitement.

Toying with your bottom lip you wait for your friend to pick you up. This party would be it, you determined.

It was going to be a dream come true.

The club sucks.

They had taken your phone at the door, the music is way too loud, and your drink tastes sour when it should be sweet. Not to mention the amount of people having sex in every corner of almost every room.

Your friends ditched you about an hour ago and your timer still has an hour left.

Taking a sip of your drink your face scrunches in disgust. Your eyes focus on the drinks behind the bar, the colorful glasses occupying your vision so you don’t accidentally make eye contact with the drugged up people around you. The pungent smell of weed surrounds you.

You sit and watch the bartenders dart across the space behind the bar, mixing and pouring drinks expertly. Men and women approach you occasionally, but you’re not interested in conversation if your timer doesn’t go off.

You wish you had Twitter to at least occupy your mind.

“Hey, I’m Connor.”

You turn to face the man to your right, his grey hair and piercing blue eyes are nice, but your timer doesn’t go off so what’s the point?

“Not interested.” Taking a quick sip of your drink you turn away from the man.

“Oh come on, I just want to chat,” He sits next to you, nursing his own drink. He smells of alcohol and expensive cologne. “Say, where were you on 9/11?”

Your eyebrows shoot up in shock, eyeing the man trying to find any hint of a joke. He looks completely serious.

“Where was I on 9/11?”

“Yeah, I mean, I gotta make sure…y’know what I mean?” He shrugs at you, still waiting for your answer.

Subtly you glance down at your wrist, the numbers now under a minute. Slowly you smile, nerves washing over your entire being.

You get up from the bar stool, drink in hand. “Try that on another girl, I’m sure it’ll work next time.”

Passing by people you attempt to get out of the stuffy room when someone knocks into your shoulder. It’s not hard, but it certainly warranted some kind of apology.

You turn around only to see the other person doing the same.

Your breath hitches when you hear the noise—it’s crystal clear and high pitched, like a bell. Eyes widening you stare at the stranger in shock.

“Oh fuck.” His brown eyes widen at the noise, the realization washing over him. “Shit so you’re—you’re my…?” With one hand on his hip and the other running through his hair he looks you up and down.

“You’re my soulmate…” You say, just above the music. The air feels as if it’s been punched out of your lungs.

The man’s eyes can’t seem to stay still.

Your own eyes run over his handsome figure. His clothes imply at least a decent amount of money—his white dress shirt crisp and recently pressed. The sleeves, however, are rolled up to his elbow exposing his forearms. Your face heats up at this; the casual gesture being a lot more attractive than it should be.

Swallowing down the thoughts and the bubbling nerves you extend your hand.

“(Y/n) (L/n).” You smile, hoping to ease the tension.

“Oh uh, yeah—yes.” He stutters, hand taking your own. His palms are a bit sweaty but he has a nice firm grip. “Roman Roy.”

Roy—well that explains a lot. So far the universe has got good taste.

Your hand tingles as you pull it back to your side. Biting your lip you take him in again, how he flexes his jaw and drums his fingers against his hip bone. The music pumping throughout the room becomes muffled as you focus solely on Roman Roy.

It seems he has a difficult time tearing his eyes away from your own, but eventually he’s successful at examining the expensive watch on his wrist.

“Oh shit fucking damnit…” He mutters, brows furrowing momentarily before softening when his gaze lands back on you. “I gotta go, I have this stupid fucking meeting…” Apologetically he steps closer to you. You deflate a bit at this. “It’s just big company stuff, I’m sorry. Can I uh…can I get your number though?”

Smirking at the question, you nod. Excitement courses through your veins again. “Do you have a pen?”

“A pen? What is it 1999?”

“They took my phone at the door, dumbass, I assume they took yours too.” You snort teasingly.

“Shit.” He pats his body, searching for anything in his pocket. He’s quite quick about it and eventually he finds a shitty black pen with barely any ink in it.

Giggling you write your number down on his forearm before handing the pen back to him.

“You better call me, Roman Roy. I know where you work.” You wink, toying with your bottom lip again.

He flushes at that, cheeks turning pink as his eyes settle on your lips.

“Oh fuck I’m gonna call you.” Clumsily he winks back before turning around and getting caught in the crowd, heading to whatever meeting he had.

Setting down your drink on the nearest table you head the opposite direction, towards the exit, cheeks aching from the satisfied smile on your face.

•

[daughterofevil158]

Posting the "Damon has to suffer thru having multiple platonic & romantic soulmates" AU that i've been writing in my drafts for the past 2 weeks because unlearning shame is so cool and sexy of me (if any of these give u inspiration to make something, feel free to use)

mostly imagining it with my favorite Damon ships (platonic or romantic) + platonic Toshiko (get older brother'd, idiot). I'm mostly thinking of putting Damon thru the wringer when i pick the different soulmarks he gets (now he feels a need to become someone worthy of all these people he's connected to on top of all his canon issues)

◊ Ulysses has "what you write on your skin appears on your soulmate's." This, thusly, makes him the 1st and probably only one Damon is in contact with pre-EGA with after one too many times of finding "buy new journals" and other such reminders on his arm. They probably did exchange number at some point, but let's be real, Ulysses is more likely to remember to bring his pen than his phone on a daily basis anyway. Imagine Damon researching for a debate and briefly mentioning the topic to Ulysses, who immediately starts writing several historical that support Damon's topic. (Also, whenever Damon's about to eat/sleep, he writes a reminder for Ulysses to do the same.)

◊ Mark has "music your soulmate is listening to pops into your thoughts" (Damon is frantically searching up the song that's been playing in his head all week with no results. Then Mayhem drops their newest track and he does the Pointing Rick Dalton pose. Mark chooses to believe that the increase in his own songs playing in his head is just himself thinking about them because the alternative would kill him via embarrassment)

◊ Jett has "you feel phantom pain whenever your soulmate gets injured" (I'll be honest, i chose this specifically to be a dick to Damon. Imagine the audience watching one of Damon's debates, and they assume the shaking & stuttering is due to nerves until he collapses mid-sentence. This also leads to Jett feeling even worse about his accident :D) (On a lighter note, every time Damon gets that "seatbelt jerk" pain from sudden vehicle stops on Jett's end, he'll pinch the flesh between his thumb and pointer as revenge)

◊ If it's canon compliant, Eva gets "last words your soulmate will say to you." I initially thought of "soulmate can't lie to you" for the funny irony, but then my brain went "wait. Wolfgang." He has either that or "timer that marks your soulmate's death." In a No-KG version, Wolfie still has "can't lie" and Eva has the "first words" version instead.

◊ Toshiko (this is the only one that's 100% platonic) gets "matching tattoos." It's on the right wrist, a green snake in a heart shape, with a smaller pink snake within also making a heart ♡ (She insists that it's only fair if they get matching flamingo tattoos once she's of age. Damon Does Not Want To. He does anyway.) (Only semi-related, but imagine that Toshiko also has a dimple but on the opposite side of Damon's)

◊ I considered Diana having "greyscale vision until you first touch your soulmate" but i feel that would make her talent like 1,000x harder to do (i don't use makeup) so i dialed it back to "can't see your soulmate's eye color until you touch"

Kai, Cassidy, and Desmond are also Damon's soulmates, but I haven't come up with anything for them yet. In this AU, people normally get 2-3 soulmates, with higher numbers being increasingly unlikely (and making Damon with his 10 soulmarks a freak of nature, even if most of them end up being platonic).

(as an aside, damon's parents are so happy that their son will have so many people who will come to care for him)

April 10th Edit: Go here for Cassidy, Desmond, and Kai

[purplephantomwolf]

Tethered Time

Logan Sargeant Soulmate AU

Chapter One

Synopsis: Everyone has a timer on their wrist. It counts down the time until you hear your soulmates voice for the first time. After you hear their voice, it changes to the time until you meet them for the first time.

Note: This is not an accurate portrayal of how the real people in this act. I do not know them personally, so I will not be portraying them accurately.

Warnings for this chapter: None

Masterlist

I AM REWRITING THIS FROM AN ORIGINAL CHARACTER SO IF I MISSED ANYTHING I AM SORRY AND PLEASE LET ME KNOW

March 10, 2020

3 minutes

     You rub your wrist, glancing at the countdown on it. It states 3 minutes and counting down. The countdown is a timer until you hear the sound of your soulmate’s voice for the first time. You glance around the classroom, eyebrows furrowing. You’ve heard everyone in this class speak before, so you don’t know where the voice could come from. You glance over at your best friend, Tucker. He’s staring intently at a video playing on his phone. “Hey, Tuck. What are you watching?” You ask, leaning over to see what he’s watching. The video finishes right as you look over. 

     “Oh! Prema just released a new video with their F3 drivers for this year,” Tucker says.

     “What’s F3?” You ask him, curious. 

     “It’s like the minor leagues for F1,” he explains. You know he can see the confusion on your face. “F1 is like a fancier NASCAR.”

     “Can I see the video?” You ask, scooting closer to him. 

     “Sure, why not?” He shrugs, going to replay it. You glance down at your wrist and it now says 1 minute. Your eyes widen as you stare at Tucker’s phone. 

     “Tucker, look.” You say, showing him your wrist. 

     He looks shocked, “You think it could be one of the guys in the video?!” 

     “Possibly, now play it,” you urge him. Tucker hits play and you stare at the screen. “He’s quite cute,” you say, pointing to the guy in the middle of the three guys. 

     “Be consistent,” you hear the guy you were pointing to say. 

     “Ow!” You yelp quietly as your wrist burns when he says that. Tucker gasps and looks at you.

     “There’s no way Logan Sargeant is your soulmate!!” He exclaims excitedly. 

      “He is!” You grin. You look down at your wrist excitedly. The burn means that the time is changing to the time you have until you meet your soulmate in person. “No,” you whisper as the time appears. 

     “What? What is it?!” Tucker asks, grabbing your wrist. His face falls as he sees the time. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

     “It’s okay. At least there’s a time, so I know I’m going to meet him,” you groan, staring at your wrist as it counts down from three years, five months, and nineteen days. 

     “True, but going three and a half years knowing who your soulmate is and not being able to talk to them is painful,” Tucker points out. 

     “Not helping,” you glare at him and he gives you a shrug and a look that says sorry. You groan and rest your head on your desk. 

     “Y/n, Tucker. Are you two being productive or just chitchatting?” Our teacher asks, appearing behind us. 

     “We’re being productive! I finished the assignment already,” you say, showing him the assignment. He raises his eyebrows. 

     “Mr. Collins, we’re being extremely productive, Y/n figured out who their soulmate is!” Tucker exclaims. Mr. Collins raises his eyebrows, looking around. 

     “Oh yeah? How exactly did you find their soulmate? It’s the middle of the school day,” he points out. 

     “We were watching a YouTube video and they heard his voice!” Tucker says, excitedly. You groan, covering your face. 

     “Tucker, shut up,” you say through your teeth. 

     “And who is her soulmate then?” Troy, one of our classmates, says, leaning over towards us. 

     “Logan Sargeant! A Formula 3 driver!” Tucker says, before you can stop him. 

     “Yeah, right. There’s no way,” a second classmate says. “There’s no way her soulmate is someone that talented.” This classmate has never liked me, so I’m not surprised by their response. You roll your eyes. 

     “It’s true,” Tucker insists. 

     “Tucker, stop it. It’s fine if they don’t believe us,” you shrug, “I’d also rather not shout it from the rooftops who he is.” 

     “Fine,” Tucker mumbles, glaring at our classmates. 

     “You’re just being delusional,” the second classmate mumbles. Tucker sticks his tongue out at them like a child. You smack his arm, rolling your eyes. 

     “So childish,” you mumble to him. 

     “Yeah, but you love it,” he whispers back. 

     “Alright children,” Mr. Collins says, looking between us, “Back to work.” you bow your head and get back to reading the book you have. Tucker goes back to messing around on his phone. 

     The bell soon rings, signaling it’s spring break. 

     “Have a good spring break,” Mr. Collins yells to us as we rush out the door.

************************************************************************

     “Hi, honey. How was school?” Your mom greets you as you walk in the front door. 

     “Fine,” you shrug, dropping your bag onto the floor by the stairs. Your mom’s eyebrows knit in concern. 

     “Did something happen? You seem down,” she says, looking concerned. 

    “I found out who my soulmate is,” you shrug. Her jaw drops in excitement.

    “That’s awesome!” She exclaims, “Wait, I thought you’d be excited to know.” 

    “I am, I am. But the sad thing is it’s three and a half years until I meet him,” you say, showing her my wrist.

     “Oh honey, I’m so sorry,” she sighs, looking at you with pity, “You said you know who it is though?” She looks confused. 

     “Yeah, but he’s kind of famous. His name is Logan Sargeant and he’s a Formula 3 driver,” you explain. 

     “A what?” My mom looks even more confused.

     “A race car driver. F3 is like the minor leagues for F1, which is a fancier NASCAR, is what Tucker said,” you explain. My mom nods, still looking lost. You shrug your shoulders, “I don’t quite know what it is either. But I know I’ll be doing research on it.” My mom nods and sets a snack down on the table for you. You sit down and grab your laptop to start the research on Logan and Formula 1. 

************************************************************************

     “Dad, do you know what Formula 1 is?” You ask, as your family sits down for dinner. 

     “Formula 1 racing?” He asks. 

     You nod, “Yeah.” He nods his head, looking confused. “Okay, because my soulmate is a Formula 3 driver,” you casually say, putting some food on your plate. 

     His jaw drops, “You’re kidding?” You shake your head, smiling. “When do you guys meet then?!” He asks, excitedly. 

     You sigh, “Three and a half years.” 

     “That sucks, I’m sorry,” he frowns. 

    “It is what it is,” you shrug. 

     Once we finish dinner, you go back to doing research on Formula 1. You’ve been enjoying learning about the sport. “I need to watch some races later,” you mumble. You scroll through the Wikipedia page on Formula 1. It looks so exhilarating. Luckily you have the next week to watch old races to better learn the sport. I sit on the couch, pulling up the first race of the 2019 F3 season. “Let’s do this,” you smile.

Next Chapter: Chapter Two

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

kufunua (furahi, furahi)

cw. f!reader, soulmate au (timer), yandere themes, obsessive behaviors, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance

pairing. yan!tartaglia x reader

synopsis. when you make a promise, you have to keep it. for the 11th fatui harbinger, this one is the most precious promise of all.

notes. apparently it wasn't enough for me to write one fic for @mieiri's reach mine. collab, i have to write two pieces. my behemoth of a WIP for my other fic is very much a healthier, fluffier spin for a soulmate au. but there's a joy in exploring the depths of depravity of an unwanted connection. divider by @/cafekitsune

"If you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you."

If you recall correctly, it was a philosopher from Mondstadt who spoke those famous words. In all your years of living, you believe you are only now beginning to understand the depth of them. You can feel it, the heat of madness at the edges of your mind as you stare at the bond in front of you.

Mists of pale lilac enveloped in a starry dark purple, much akin to the monsters of the Abyss that you are no stranger to. It's more like a mast; a parasite eating away at its host it is barely keeping alive. Cloying tight tendrils wrapped around its weaker counterpart possessively. Tighter and tighter it squeezes the harder you try to pull it apart. For every centimeter you are barely able to separate them, the stronger the mast holds with a vengeance.

Dread swirls around you, cold and unforgiving and you shudder.

You've seen many soulmate connections since you've become a spiritspeaker and they seldom look like your own. What kind of person must you be for this to be our bond, you wonder uneasily.

In the entangled mess, an indigo eye stares you.

Mine, it speaks coarsely. Mine.

You stare back.

What kind of person are you?

A typical connection manifests harmoniously, the tendrils of the spirit moving in equal balance and motion. It's much like a waltz, if anything else. It's a beautiful thing to see, vibrant and unique for every bonded coupling. The hues of the partnered spirits are as beautiful as the Sacred Flame itself, flickering much like it as well. Your connection is anything but, the manifestation of your spirit weak, frail and completely overwhelmed by that of its partner.

Much like the person you become once ensnared in your soulmate's grasp. You refuse to become that person.

Whoever your soulmate is, you want nothing to do with them.

The feeling of contempt and anxiety are a stark contrast to your younger years. Back when you were a young girl, wide-eyed and untrained in the spells and rituals of your tribe. You can hardly be blamed for your initial excitement.

The sacred timer on ones wrist counting down to the final second when they'd meet their special person. The people of Natlan revere the blessing of soulmates as much as they do the night and fire. This reverence is doubly so for your tribe. For the Masters of the Night-Wind who are able to see the manifestation of soulmates outside the realm of the physical, there is no greater honor.

The forced symbiosis of your connection is anything but honorable.

Nor is there any beauty.

Henceforth, you'd tried dauntlessly to sever the connection between yourself and your soulmate. A forbidden act in your tribe; how could one be so presumptuous as to dictate the loom of fate itself? It's too easy to separate the dancing of souls, too easy to play deity. If one acts in such a manner, it is more akin to sparks turning to a raging fire burning everything in its path. That's what the elders preached when you had begun your training as a Spiritspeaker. Apparently, the mast of your fated other believed much the same.

It's suppose to be easy, too easy.

It should have been easy.

Yet the parasitic spirit fights back with equal vigor.

Mine, it whispers echo throughout this shard of the Night Kingdom where you lie. It clutches your spirit tighter. Mania. Mine. Mine, it whispers as if reciting prayers. Reverent yet unrepentant. Delirious yet all too lucid. Its grip tightens once more, the near Abyssal eye meeting yours unflinchingly. Mine.

Groggily, your eyes open in the physical realm and the smell of incense fills your nostrils. It takes a moment for you to gather your bearings, your spirit returning to your body testily. You raise your arm, looking at your wrist blearily.

01 d 22 h 1346 m 32 s.

The sight wakes you proper, anxiety humming across your skin. You hide your wrist from your sight, covering it with your hand before exhaling quietly. Once again, your attempt at severing your bond has ended in vain and you barely have two days left.

Two days.

In just under two days, you will come face to face with person who will change your life. That's how little time you have to change your fate. Your grip tightens as if that alone could tear away the timer engraved on your flesh. If only it were all so easy.

Raising to your feet, you approach your spiritloom on feet barely steady. You aren't quite ready to move yet, but you refuse to accept your fate while lying on your back. "I can do this," you murmur, warping your loom with deft fingers as more of yourself returns to waking day. Even with what little time you have, that is more than enough to make a final attempt to preserve your being. You are a priestess of the Night-Winds, one of the best.

What are you if not resourceful?

Expertly, as you have done many times before, you weave the images your mind's eye conjures. Tugging your weft threads expertly into the pattern of the person you'd seen in a ritual you'd done long before. Hours go by until the sun begins to rise and paint the clouds shades of coral and vermillion.

"Abeni," you call for your saurian companion after completing your task. Your legs were sore from standing in place so long and the air of the outside was fresh, the scent of embercores on the breeze.

One of the iktomisaurus' bat-like ears twitch at the sound of her name, looking at you sweetly. Around her neck is a cryo-blue ribbon tied comfortable around her neck with her name stitched dutifully to let others know that she had a human companion.

In spite of the disquiet buzzing in you heart, she has been a comfort. The one who has heard all your concerns regarding your soulmate and the future you are wary to avoid. Compared to most, your ages are in a similar range. Whatever comes your way, Abeni will by your side. You run your hands through the feathers crowning the dragon's head. "I need a favor from you," you manage to turn the corners of your lips up into a smile.

Cautiously, you show Abeni the results of your weaving. The face of the man your fate is tied to.

He's handsome, at least from the details you were able to gather. Fair-skinned, blue eyed and with vibrant ginger hair. An outlander, more than likely. It's only your bad luck that something is bringing him to Natlan, whether it be work or pleasure. Shakily, your fingers dig into the tapestry and you inhale deeply to calm yourself. It's an image that instills fear rather than joy. This is a face you can only hope to never see for the rest of your long life.

Icy blue eyes gaze at the image for a moment before shifting to you. Is this him, the saurian seems to be asking.

Steeling yourself, you nod. "I need you to find where this person is so I can avoid him." Abeni hoots, clicking her beak thoughtfully. "I know I'm asking a lot of you," you murmur. "But this is the only idea I have. If I can avoid this meeting, that should settle everything." When the hour has gone and passed, you could finally be free.

It crosses your mind briefly that Kinich would be perfect for a job like this. Your safety and peace of mind would be more than worth whatever price he deemed acceptable. You ultimately decide against it. You do not know your soulmate personally but you are more than aware of the content of his character. Another person cannot be pulled into your mess.

A person is conspicuous no matter how skilled. The dragons of Natlan are as natural to the scenery as breathing is for the lungs.

Dutifully, Abeni agrees to your request and you're so relieved you could cry. Your eyes remain dry, however. You'll cry tears of relief when you no longer have to deal with this pesky bond.

"Be careful," you call when Abeni finally leaves your home, dark feathers blending into the mists of your tribe's territory. Abeni will find him and everything will be okay, you hug yourself. Everything will be okay.

01 d 14 h 0866 m 13 s.

01 d 12 h 0746 m 09 s.

01 d 09 h 0566 m 03 s.

Sleep doesn't come easily for you, coming and going in anxious waves as you wait for Abeni to return. You dream of a memory long since passed, a time when your mother was still alive and you'd yet begin your training.

"Mama, is my timer broken?" You asked your mother many years ago, looking at the ungodly amount of time ticking away on your skin.

A melancholic smile spread across her lips as she grabbed your hands tenderly. "No, my love," she told you kindly. "It just means that… they're far, far away."

"But why?"

"Only the Lord of the Night knows," she told you dreamily, giving your nose a kiss. "The timer is a promise. One day at the promised time, you're going to meet that person. You simply have to wait until then."

You hummed thoughtfully, unimpressed when your mother squeezed your arm unexpectedly. "Mama?"

Your mother's brow was furrowed, deeply and her smile was gone."Sweetie, sometimes it's okay to break a promise."

That was the last time you talked to your mother about your soulmate, never understanding until it was far too late what she meant. What would she do if she were here now? Why hadn't she lived long enough to tell you what she'd seen upon her scrying into your connection? Maybe she'd failed herself at trying to disconnect it, hoping that one day you would succeed where she couldn't.

A knock pulls you from your thoughts and you pinch your nose. "Coming!" You brush away the wrinkles forming in your clothes.

"Hurry up!" You can't help a smile, shaking your head in exasperation at Citlali's hissing. "That girl is around here somewhere, I can sense it!" Your fellow elder has a person to avoid of her own. You ought to take your time, but after quickly brushing away the wrinkles of your clothes, you rise to let your fellow elder in.

Once upon a time you were both beings fitting of looking in your early 20s.

200 years have since passed; 200 years and soon the hour of your fate rears its ugly head. You shake the thoughts away as you open your door, nearly toppled over as Citlali rushes inside. "The number one guide in Natlan in the Tezcatepetonco Range again," you ask unnecessarily.

"She comes again and again like clockwork!" The purple-haired woman glares at your door as if the energetic guide will come barging in without warning. "She's only taking a handful of tourists on a trip around the country, not on quests with perils beyond mortal imagination! And yet there she'll come again and again asking for fortune after fortune like she is." Citlali sighs, tired, before giving you an accusatory look. "That girl never pesters you like this."

That may be because the last time she encountered you, you had simply insisted that Granny Itztli would be a much better priestess for such insights. "Unlike you, I know how to pretend I'm not actually home," you say instead as Citlali sits at your dinner table with a heavy thud. "But be my guest. We can pretend we're apprentices again, searching through forbidden scrolls."

I wish I hadn't.

Perhaps then your current dilemma could have been avoided. Yet here you were, 200 and some odd years later after touching arts you likely should have avoided.

"That was years ago," Citlali yawns. "I'd rather-" she pauses, noticing the tapestry on your table and your heart lurches. You had meant to tuck the thing away into the darkest depths of your belongings. "Who is this," Citlali grabs the result of your clairvoyance before you can say anything else. "I don't recognize him."

"You wouldn't," it's your turn to sigh, sitting across the table from your oldest friend. "He's an outlander."

Your friend hums thoughtfully, "is this about that outlander everyone's been talking about? He's apparently been going around completing Warrior Challenges with high remarks. He's certainly ambitious."

You hadn't heard of this outlander at all. All the same, the mystery outlander is an excellent topic to divert to, nodding with expert deceit. "I was curious about what he looked like."

Citlali sets the tapestry aside, disinterest filling her gaze. "Mualani would come around right when I was planning on going to Stadium." You chuckle lightly knowing Citlali's bark is worse than her bite. "I wanted to get ingredients to make Ororon's birthday cake, it's right around the corner you know."

You barely are able to hide your surprise. You nearly forgot your own grandson's birthday. With everything going on it slipped my mind, you pinch yourself under the table. Even with your personal crisis going on, you wouldn't allow yourself to forego the found family you forged for yourself in recent years.

You glance at your timer while Citlali rambles on ー only ten minutes have passed. You're weary but even you know it is impossible for you to take that long to get to the Chuwen Fair and back. There will be more than enough time to continue your stakeout once you've returned. "I'll get them for you," you say at last, back on your feet again. You might as well distract yourself with a bit of shopping. "It shouldn't take me too long and unlike you, I'm good at shooing away persistent clients." The Stadium is practically a hop, skip and a jump away from your territory.

Citlali sticks her tongue at you in response to your teasing. You ignore it expertly with a grin of your own. "If I'm not back before Abeni gets home tell her where I've gone."

Grabbing a basket, you leave your home quickly. The faster you arrive at the Stadium, the faster you can return home. Your wrist tingles, but you ignore the feeling. You'll start panicking when it's the day of your meeting. At that thought, you remind yourself quickly that that meeting wouldn't be happening. Abeni will return home swiftly and you'll be able to coordinate your plan to avoid the man in the tapestry for good.

Perhaps you'll even try another separating ritual when you return and Citlali's left your space.

The start of your outing is smooth and familiar. Even the short quest to the Stadium is filled with qucusaurs and halberd-crest birds in flight, meditating iktomisaurs and the sight of phlogiston painted mountains. A calming sight even at your most unsettled. You've never once left the country of your birth but somehow you never tire of it.

Chuwen Fair is mixed with locals and outlanders alike, but even so you soothe your heart. That person isn't here, you remind yourself. It's not the time for it.

"Granny Sarabi, how are you!?"

"We've got discounts on some fresh sunsettias!"

All is well until you feel the distinct sensation of the tingle your wrist turning into a burn. Shifting your basket from one hand to the other, you look at it wearily.

00 d 00 h 023 m 02 s.

Your basket drops from your hand, contents collapsing onto the ground. Disregarding the vendor's concerned calls, you turn to run back to your home in the Masters' territory. Nightsoul's Blessing burning through your veins, watching in wide-eyed horror as the timer ticked away and faster. What's happening?! Abeni!

23 minutes.

15 minutes.

10 minutes.

5 minutes.

The seconds pass faster than you're able to count them. Where was Abeni? None of the saurians you passed resembled your blue-feathered companion on your hurried journey home. Was she hurt? Was it him?

Your mind searches through every possible scenario as to what could have happened to your friend. Saurian traffickers? Were the whispered rumors of Fatui agents stealing saurians to harvest their phlogiston true? Neither of those explanations accounted for your timer's sudden decrease in the hours between the promised meeting you wish to break. Your heart feels ready to fall out your chest, lungs burning with every breath you take as Nightsoul exhausts and you stumble into a walk.

Laughter rings through the air, masculine and feminine voices intertwined.

No.

No.

In front of your door, Mualani is talking fervently with someone you don't shouldn't recognize with a wide smile and hands moving passionately. You shouldn't. Yet you do, the shade of his hair the exact as the thread used in your spiritloom. The someone you never wanted to meet. Despite his back facing you, the stranger turns first hearing your footsteps.

Ocean-blue looks at you; your blood freezes.

The timer strikes zero.

"Granny Sarabi!" Mualani waves excitedly after catching your eye. "This is one of the cool elders I was telling you about," she tells the stranger quickly. "You're going to love her, she's so funny! Oh, but 'Sarabi' isn't her real name, it's just a nick…" The Meztli guide trails off, looking back and forth between matching expressions of shock. It isn't until the redheaded stranger raises a hand that Mualani covers her mouth in surprised glee. "Oh my gods!"

The hyperactive young woman is quick to react before anyone else, turning to bang on your door in her excitement. "Granny Citlali, come on I know you're in there! We need to go! Gran met her soulmate!"

Citlali doesn't even attempt to make any excuse justifying why she'd been hiding away in your home. "What?!" Sure enough, she found the guide's words to be the truth. Recognition shines on her face, it hadn't been too long ago when she'd seen it for the first time herself.

Not this, anything but this, you're unsure who you are praying to. Was your tribe's Wayob listening? Where is she? Where's Abeni? Your eyes dart around for any sign of the iktomisaurus but there are none.

Pushing Citlali towards your tribe's settlement, Mualani winks at you as they scurry off. Your blood is roaring, heart drumming loudly in your ears.

The man before you is the first to break the silence.

"You're certainly the youngest looking grandmother I've ever seen," at your stupefied expression, he adds a quick apology in between chuckles. "Sorry, my mother always told me not to bring up a lady's age. I wasn't expecting us to meet like this," the man steps forward and you suddenly feel awake again, taking a step back.

Finally you find your voice. "Where's Abeni," you shoulders tense, waiting for the stranger's answer.

He blinks, surprised, before a smile spreads across his face. "Is that that bat-like dragon from before? So it's yours! Sorry, I haven't really memorized all the names of the different saurians ye-"

Your brow furrows and your eyes narrow. "Where is she," you snap.

"She's fine, she's fine," the man raises his arms, blinking in surprise at your outburst. "I saw your Abeni creeping around my camp not too long ago and decided to follow her. She noticed me at some point and changed directions." And in spite of that, the stranger still continued on her previous trail until finally he found your home deep in the heart of Natlan. "It changed," he raises his wrist, proudly displaying a timer that matches your own.

You hear a familiar hoot and a light thud behind you. Abeni is fine, unscathed, yet her eyes shine wide with guilt. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I thought he would follow elsewhere!

"See," the stranger prompts as if to prove his point. "Perfectly fine!"

He's smiling, dead-eyed expression as warm as one such as himself can make it. Mania. It's the same as the mast attached to your spirit. You can hear its whispers, the tendrils wrapping over your very being. Mine, it clutches you covetously. "I'm not normally one for believing in fate but… I took it as a sign that apparently it wanted us to meet sooner than later. Let's start again."

The outlander holds your hands in his own. "I'm Ajax," the bright-haired man introduces himself. His expression is soft as if gazing at a dream. "And I'm yours. I hope you weren't waiting for me long. Can you tell me your name?"

Extra

The title is Swahili for 'Unraveling (Rejoice, Rejoice)

'Abeni' is a Yoruba name that means 'a girl prayed for', I thought it would be fitting for a iktomisaurus companion

'Sarabi' is a Swahili name that means 'mirage'. You might have heard it in The Lion King. I've always been fond of the name so similar to how Citlali is 'Granny Obsidian', the reader here is 'Granny Mirage'

I honestly might make a sequel this was really fun to write