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luxaofhesperides · 4 months

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Soulmark AU + Sleeping Beauty ; requested by @candeartist422!

For the last few years, Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die.

It sounds cruel to say it that way. But the waiting is more painful, he thinks, than just mourning a lost love. It’s not like most people ever meet their soulmates anyways; his parents weren’t meant to be, but they still loved each other and had a life together. He wishes he could turn his focus away from his soulmate, but Duke is a romantic at heart and has always wanted to find the other half of his soul.

But since he was fourteen, his soulmark has dulled, fading in and out of color. What was once a vibrant blue crystal star, with eight points and a swirl of watercolor hues around it, dimmed more and more until Duke was sure he was watching his soulmate die slowly.

His soulmate didn’t die then. Whoever they are got better, his soulmark gaining color, but it never went back to the way it was. For years after, Duke would check at the beginning and end of each day, keeping track of when it faded and when it regained its color.

He thought his soulmate was sick. In and out of hospitals, fighting to stay alive.

And then it went nearly colorless.

Duke doesn’t remember much about that day. He knows he woke up, brushed his teeth, the lifted up his shirt to check his soulmark in the mirror. The blue was almost completely gone, the star on his left hipbone nearly gray with how colorless it was. He started at it for a moment, shocked, and reality slid away from him as he retreated into the safety of his mind, fully dissociating.

Bruce had found him when Duke didn’t show up for breakfast. He held him and offered quiet words of comfort that Duke couldn’t understand, but just having someone with him lessened the hurt of losing his soulmate.

Seeing the color come back the next day, faint as it was, hurt even more.

A year later, Duke still can’t break the habit of checking his soulmark twice a day. It hasn’t changed at all, still faint and dim, but carrying just enough color to show that his soulmate was still alive. At the very least, they were still breathing, but his chance of ever meeting them is basically zero. Still, he can’t help but hope, wishing that he could meet them even once before they die and leave him forever.

“Same as ever,” he murmurs to himself as he brushes his thumb against his soulmark. He’s terrified that he’s forgotten how beautiful the blue of it was when his soulmate was healthy.

Duke doesn’t let himself think on it too much anymore. Though his thoughts often turn to his soulmate during quiet moments like these, the busy nature of Gotham is usually more than enough to pull his attention back to the here and now. There’s no use in obsessing over his soulmate anyways; they’re just going to die, sooner or later, and Duke knows he’ll never get to meet them. They’ll just be another empty space in his life, right next to his parents.

“Come on, Thomas, focus,” he tells himself firmly, then gets dressed and heads down to the kitchen for breakfast.

The manor is quiet. It usually is in the mornings, with everyone from the night shift dead asleep and trying to get as much rest as they can before they have to start their day. Not that many of them stay in the manor these days; Duke and Damian are the only permanent residents at the moment, but Steph usually stays half with her mom and half in the manor during the summers when she’s home from college, and the others drop in whenever they feel like it.

Bruce lives more in the Batcave than the manor, so he doesn’t really count. It’s also why Duke is surprised to see Bruce awake and dressed like a normal person, drinking coffee in the kitchen as if this is a normal occurrence.

“Morning,” Duke offers.

“Good morning, Duke,” Bruce replies. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough. Alfred out or something?”

“He may have kicked me out of the Batcave to clean it up a bit,” Bruce answers tiredly. “Want me to make breakfast?”

Duke has heard the horror stories of Bruce’s attempts to make edible food in a kitchen. In the interest of not dealing with food poisoning, Duke shakes his head quickly and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I was kinda wanting to eat out for breakfast. Get out there as me, and not a mask, you know?”

“Mind if I join you? Alfred may forgive me for not sleeping if I willingly go outside.”

Duke laughs. “Sure man, as long as you pay.”

“I’ll drive, too.”

“What, don’t trust me behind a wheel?”

Bruce gives him a tired look, eyes dead and dull. “I have taught all my children how to drive. The day I willingly let them take the wheel when I am not actively dying is the day I’ve been replaced by a robot clone of myself who doesn’t know better yet.”

“That is… very specific. Is that a thing you usually worry about?”

“I’m Batman. I have to worry about everything.”

Yeah, that tracks. Duke wouldn’t be surprised if he has at least five contingency plans for that scenario, should it ever happen. “Well,” he says, “Right now, all you need to worry about is having your wallet and driving us down to The Foodie Nook. I’ve been craving their breakfast plates for ages.”

Bruce doesn’t object to his choice of restaurant and follows Duke down to the garage, grabbing a random set of keys and pointing it out to the many cars he owns. One near the front blinks its lights as it unlocks and Duke cheerfully tosses himself into the passenger seat as Bruce opens the garage door.

The drive into Gotham is smooth. They don’t hit traffic until they reach the bridge that leads into the city proper, taking them away from the quiet of Bristol. The morning is busy, but not enough that Duke worries about being out as the Signal to help keep the peace. It’s a normal type of busy, one borne from people going about their lives, feeling safe enough to go out.

The Foodie Nook is entirely local and very popular, so the parking lot is nearly full. But they expanded their space last year, which means he and Bruce don’t have to sit outside while they wait to grab a table. Bruce keeps conversation light and casual, well aware of the many listening ears around them, and it’s nice, feeling normal for once.

Well, as normal as life can be with Bruce Wayne™. The server who comes to lead them to a table realizes who she’s talking to after she gets a proper look at them while holding open the door and promptly stutters over her words.

“No need for any special treatment,” Bruce laughs lightly, “We’re just here for breakfast. Nothing special.”

“Of course,” she replies, cheeks red. “Um, right this way! We’ve got a table by the windows for you. Just two, yeah?”

“Yup! Just two. Thought this was a good day to spend some time with Duke. He’s a great kid, you know, I’m glad I was given the opportunity to foster him.”

The sunny, cheerful Bruce Wayne persona is so different from the usual Bruce he works with that it feels like he’s standing next to a stranger. But his words are sincere and warm his heart, filling up the gaps that his soulmate has left.

“Here you are!” their server announces, showing them to their table. “I’ll be right back with some menus.” She’s gone in a rush, and other customers glance over before quickly averting their gaze.

It’s one of the unspoken rules of Gotham: give the Waynes their privacy while they’re out in public. Questions and conversation are for public events only, but if they see a Wayne out and about during a normal day, everyone leaves them be unless spoken to first. Duke used to follow those rules as well when he was just another Gothamite. It’s strange being on the other side of that now that he’s in with the Waynes.

Duke barely has to look through the menu when it’s handed to him. The breakfast plates are his favorites and he gets one every single time he comes to The Foodie Nook; stacked full with breakfast foods from around the world. As a kid, he loved the Mexico Plate, but these days he’s craving either the Brazilian Plate or the Vietnamese Plate.

He can’t decide on which one and thinks about tossing a coin to decide, but seeing how that’s Two Face’s whole thing, he decides to hold off and settle the matter with eenie-meenie-minnie-mo.

He gets the Vietnamese Plate.

Bruce, on the other hand, reads through the entire menu like it’s a novel, then leans over and says rather loudly, “Duke, what’s a tort-illa.”

The pain he feels hearing that is only worsened by the amusement in Bruce’s eyes. He’s doing it on purpose, playing up the Brucie act for the public so he can psychologically torment Duke. A few nearby customers choke back laughter, turning away to hide their smiles.

Duke shakes his head and says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just food. Don’t ask any more questions, I just want a peaceful breakfast.”

“Well then,” Bruce replies, “I suppose I know what to order now.”

As if she was summoned, their server reappears before them, cheeks still looking a little flushed. “Hi! Ready to order?”

She writes down their orders quickly, valiantly keeping a straight face at Bruce’s mispronunciation of tortilla, then heads off to deliver their orders to the kitchen.

Rather than draw out a conversation with Brucie Wayne, Duke settles for playing a few idle games on his phone; his current favorite is one quiet cat cafe game where he directs cats into fulfilling cafe orders.

Bruce, despite being out in his civilian identity, is working. He’s on his Batman phone, which looks the same as his other cell phones except this one has a bat symbol sticker just barely hiding a Superman sticker on the phone case. His brow is slightly furrowed as he reads whatever file he’s accessing from the Batcomputer. It’s a little worrying but it could be anything. Bruce makes the same expression when he reads one of Tim’s snarky comments getting quoted in the news.

But that’s not Duke’s problem! He’s here to enjoy his breakfast and it will take the end of the world itself to remove him from his seat before he’s done eating.

The game takes most of his attention until their food comes out, and by then Bruce has tucked away the smallest of his Batman mannerisms. They enjoy a normal, peaceful breakfast. Bruce ends it by asking their server if she has any debt that’s weighing her down, then giving her a tip that’s at least five thousand dollars above that.

She does cry and Bruce hugs her. It’s very sweet.

As soon as they get back into the car, his easy going smile drops and Duke knows some superhero nonsense is about to take over his day.

“Duke,” Bruce starts, seriously, “I received a message from Zatanna.”

“Don’t drag this out,” Duke says, “Just give it to me straight. What terrible thing is about to happen to us?”

“It’s nothing too big. They just recently defeated a magical being who had been tearing apart secret government facilities in Illinois. He had both magic and a high tech weapon, which they confiscated and are delivering to me. The government agency he was fighting was suspiciously interested in the weapon, and based on their behaviors and newly revealed work, Zatanna made the decision to turn the weapon over to us so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

Bruce smoothly merges into traffic as he speaks, getting them onto the road back to the manor. There’s a look in his eyes that means he’s keeping a lot unsaid, and Duke knows without a doubt that whatever this government agency was doing is bad if Zatanna needs Batman to act as extra security.

He’s not sure about her decision to trust the weapon to be safe in Gotham, either. Sure, Batman will keep it as safe as he can, but with their luck, it’ll end up in the hands of a Rogue and lead to a lot of death and destruction.

As soon as they cross the bridge and return to Bristol, Bruce steps on the gas and the car tears down the road. Without any other cars to worry about (or traffic laws), it takes barely two minutes to reach the manor, when the gates open for them and let them into the garage.

Alfred waits for them by the door, looking them over with a critical eye. “I see you have managed to go outside, Master Bruce. What’s the special occasion?”

“Just breakfast,” Bruce answers. “I’m heading back down to the Batcave. Zatanna will be here soon to deliver a weapon.” He’s gone before Alfred can say anything more, hurrying down the hall and turning the corner, disappearing from sight as he heads towards his office.

“I see we have yet to break that bad habit of his. Did you enjoy your morning out, Master Duke?”

“Sure did, Alfred. I’m, uh, also going down to the Batcave. He’s definitely not telling me a lot about what’s going on, so I’m just going to read about it over his shoulder. I’ll be back up for lunch, though!”

“And perhaps you’ll be able to drag Master Bruce away from that cave of his,” Alfred comments wryly as he walks with Duke towards the office. He gives Duke a nod, then splits away from him, returning to the kitchen where Duke can hear Damian speaking to someone, probably Tim by the annoyed tone of his voice, and mentally wishes Alfred luck in handling them.

Duke sets the correct time on the clock in Bruce’s office and heads down to the Batcave, taking the steps two at a time.

Bruce is already at the Batcomputer, shoulders tensed, when he arrives.

“More bad news?” he asks as he makes his way over.

Bruce doesn’t bother looking away from the screen as he says, “More details about the fight. It seems the magical being called himself a ghost and was going on a rampage due to a betrayal. He says they nearly killed his son.”

“Oh, yikes.”

“And two of the scientists working with the government agency said that he stole their son and is keeping them from saving him.”

“Yikes,” Duke says with more feeling.

He doesn’t get to hear anymore details about JLD’s fight with this ghost when he catches a flicker in the corner of his eye. Duke turns and stares at the empty space in the Batcave near the medbay and watches as colorful magic gathers and swirls in dizzing circles. The portal opens a moment later and Zatanna steps out, looking exhausted and lightly singed.

“Batman,” she greets, holding a white gun that looks like it belongs in an early sci-fi movie from the 60s. “The GIW is trying to arrest us. Constantine keeps burning their badges and documents so it shouldn’t be a problem, but they are determined to get this back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came after you next. They’ve got some way of tracking things, but I didn’t have time to get any details before I had to leave.”

Bruce takes the gun from her hands carefully, looking it over with a sharp gaze. “Why would a ghost want to use a gun?”

“I don’t know. He had a variety of powers, too.”

“What does this do?”

“Shoots ice. He never let it go and nearly burned me alive for taking it before we subdued him.”

“We’ll keep it locked up,” Bruce promises.

Zatanna sighs. It looks as though a physical weight fell off her shoulders. “Thanks. I’m going to head back to stop Constantine from getting into a fistfight with the GIW agents.”

She opens another portal with a waved hand and a muttered spell. Bruce is already walking away to set the gun down on a work station, so Duke is the one to wave Zatanna goodbye.

By the time he reaches Bruce’s side, the gun is already dismantled, all pieces neatly set aside. Sticky notes denote which pieces go together and in what order. It looks the same as most guns, save for the aesthetic, but the heart of it is a glowing blue orb, large enough to cover the entirety of Bruce’s palm, and it brings a chill to the air.

Duke stares at it and feels his soulmark burn ice cold.

“Duke?”

It’s in his hands. He doesn’t remember reaching out to take it, but it’s in his hands. He can’t take his eyes off of it, cradling it gently and bringing it closer to his chest.

It’s the same blue his soulmark once was. Before his soulmate began to fade, before every day became a waiting game to see how long his soulmate will last before they die.

This has something to do with his soulmate. He’s sure of it.

He won’t let anyone take it from him.

“Duke. Give that to me.”

He doesn’t feel like he’s in his body. He’s detached, floating somewhere outside his body, puppeteering his limbs, making them move without feeling the motion. Shadows condense around his feet and Bruce takes a step back, wary.

“Duke,” he says again, but Duke can’t find any words, can’t draw on his voice, can’t even look away from the bright, bright blue of the orb. It pulses lightly in his hand like a heartbeat.

Bruce reaches a hand out.

He’s pulled back by shadows before he can get close, and Duke holds the orb against his chest, right against his heart, and feels the cold seep into him.

“Duke. I need you to look at me.” This time, Bruce’s voice has Batman’s growl in it, a heavy command that he can’t help but instinctively follow. He looks up and meets Bruce’s eyes, but he can’t focus. All his awareness is in his hands and the heartbeat of the glowing orb.

“I have to protect this,” Duke manages to whisper. “I… I think it’s alive.”

“Okay. Let’s get you to the medbay so you can sit down. We’ll figure this out, Duke.”

Bruce slowly, carefully, sets his hand on Duke’s shoulder. He keeps his attention away from the orb, so Duke allows it and lets Bruce guide him to the medbay and onto one of the medical cots. Bruce leaves him after a minute of quiet fussing, muttering about calling Zatanna.

Whatever. None of that matters when the heartbeat of the orb grows stronger, steadier, and Duke feels it match the beat of his own heart.

Time slips away from him. Distantly, he hears people move around the cave, speaking in low tones. A hand presses against his shoulder, warm, then moves away.

The orb in his hand moves.

Duke blinks slowly, then claws his way back to awareness, pushing past the haze that’s fallen over his mind. The orb turns over in his hand, then cracks right down the middle. The glow grows stronger, washing the medbay in blue light and a symbol appears on the orb.

It’s his soulmark.

Later, he won’t be able to say why he did it. There were no thoughts, no reasonings, no explanations. Duke simply moved on instinct and lifted the orb up to his face and pressed a soft kiss against it.

One moment, the orb was still.

The next, it had burst in a flash of light that blinded everyone in the Batcave, and then a thin, injured teenager had fallen into Duke’s lap.

Hands immediately grab him, pulling him away from Duke. The teenager puts up no fight, eyes barely open, but he reaches for Duke weakly. On his wrist is the bright blue snowflake, the color strong and vivid.

“That’s me soulmate,” Duke whispers as he watches Bruce and Tim set the boy down on another medical cot.

“What?” Tim says, turning to face Duke, concern clear on his face.

“That’s my soulmate,” he repeats, louder. Then, panicked, he pulls up his shirt enough to see his own soulmark; the color is still dull, weak, barely there, but it’s more blue that it has been in a while. He doesn’t need to say anything. Tim sees the dullness of his soulmark, looks at the boy, and puts the pieces together on his own.

“I’ll call Doc Thompkins,” he says, already moving to fix everything. Bruce remains where he is, making sure the boy is tucked in and breathing steadily before he returns to Duke.

“Are you alright?”

Duke swallows roughly, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy. He’s pale and thin, as if he’d been starved, and there’s frost beginning to spread on the bedsheet from his fingers. “He’s my soulmate,” Duke manages to say. “He’s been dying for two years.”

Bruce’s eyes a hard, a determined light in them. “We’ll save him,” he promises.

If anyone can, it’s Batman.

If anyone can, it’s them, Batman and the Signal, and their entire network of family and friends.

Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die all this time. Now, he’s going to save him.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #i dont really know much abt jld so they are not really in here #just duke trying to live his life and have a nice day with bruce #when his soul mate gets thrown at him in the form of an ORB #(ghost core but they dont know that yet)#dannys gonna have to answer so many questions once hes awake bc not many know abt realms beings #its gonna be rough for him bc he's been asleep for 2 years in his core bc he was never safe enough to recover #until duke gave him a boost (plus the power of soulmates really helped him) and he woke up #in a cave with his soulmate and a whole crew of superheroes #what a thing to open ur eyes to. rip danny lol #thanks for the prompt!

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mylittleponyauprompts · 28 days

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An AU where Cadence can see the red threads that connect soul mates. However red threads are always subject to change due to how someones life has changed for them and around them. Sometimes someone can just not have a red thread. She always saw her Aunt Celestia without one, but recently a red thread has been spawning into existence for her. Cadence couldn't be happier, and has been trying to follow the red thread to it's end to find Celestia's soul mate.

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theprofessionalpromptmaker · 7 months

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"Well, we may not be soul mates, but his presence makes me a little less sad and alone. And I think that's enough for both of us."

#mod poss #dialogue prompts #dialogue prompt #writerblr #original writing #writing inspiration #story prompt #creative writing #writing ideas #romance au #soul mate au #angst

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somekidnamedkai · 3 months

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Prompts List

my new official prompts list :)

because I have a lot of prompts

100 Random Prompts

Fluff ABCs

Angst ABCs

50 Types Of Kisses

50 Prompts (including- 10 fluff, 20 angst, 10 random, and 10 AUs)

Soulmate AUs

#prompts #writing #writing prompts #random prompts #fluff #fluff prompt #angst prompt #au #soul mate aus #alternate universe #fic prompts

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auideas · 2 years

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Hi! If you don’t mind, I’d like to request some soulmate AU ideas?

I’m a sucker for the soulmate trope, but I’m having serious writer’s block, and I need help

Hey!! Okay, so for this one, let's take a look at all the soulmate tropes floating around right now -- maybe one of them will click with you!

Classic soul strings of fate! You're connected to your soulmate by a red string that you can follow. Many stories explore what happens when this string is cut or when there's no string at all.

You can only see in black and white until you meet your soulmate; then, you world turns to color.

On your 18th birthday, you swap languages with that of your soulmate. This is normally not an issue, but what if the language you start speaking is ancient?

After you enter a relationship with someone, there's a chance that in exactly a year, something clicks in your brain that tells you whether or not that person is your soulmate. What would happen if that happened with your new best friend?

Soulmates could be a part of the worldbuilding, but what if they're just randomly assigned and the whole system is a lie?

Hear me out: what if both you and your soulmate know you are one another's partner, but you decide you hate each other too much to go through with it and decide to actively sabotage the relationship instead?

A rumor says that your soulmate will know the same weird piece of obscure knowledge you do, and no one else in the world will have any idea what it is. Everyone tries to learn and share everything they can so they can meet their soulmate, but really, it's just a farce to get everyone to share facts and ideas.

What if you could tap into any one of your soulmate's five senses at any point? Sight, sound, touch, etc. Or...what if you could tap into their sixth sense? Maybe you can feel that someone's watching them? That they're in danger? What then?

Feeling your own emotional peaks can be hard, but what if you also felt your soulmates'? What if they're fairly neutral until one terrible day when it feels like your heart was ripped out of your chest?

At birth, you're born with two eye colors: one is your natural eyes, and the other is the eye of your soulmate. When you meet, your eyes return to their natural state.

Whenever your soulmate is physically hurt, a flower blooms from the same location. This is never a big problem aside from special cases, but what would happen if a thorny rose cracked through your chest from your heart?

They say you have two soulmates in your life: one romantic and one platonic. Well, what if you were given the names of your two soulmates, but it's never specified which is which? What if you get it wrong?

There's also always the classic "you wake up in your soulmate's body on a random day and you have to live their life for 24 hours oh nooooooooooo."

Soulmark AUs:

When you write on your skin, the image or word appears in the same place on the skin of your soulmate. What if words started floating near a location on your body, almost like your soulmate has some extra skin where you don't?

The first words you say to one another are tattooed on your skin far in advance. Or, maybe the first thing the other thought when they saw you?

What about the worst thing your soulmate ever said is tattooed on your skin? This would open the door to a lot of possibilities and honesty, especially if the worst thing they said didn't seem all that bad...that is, until you get the context.

Alternatively, what about a stain where your soulmate will touch you for the first time? What if you can't find yours, so you think you don't have one until you go in for an emergency surgery and your abdominal cavity has marks everywhere...pretty crazy.

On your 18th birthday, you wake up to your soulmate's initials on your wrist. What if your soulmate changed their name? Maybe they're in witness protection? How do you find them?

You're supposed to get a mark on your birthday to tell you where you'll find your soulmate -- instead, you wake up covered in marks, all of which say "nowhere."

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solarlotus · 1 year

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Obikin Prompt: 'Bond shock'

I'll leave it up to you what side of Obikin you want to explore for this prompt!

Hi, this is a great one, thanks. I've gone with Obi Wan.

Obi Wan was reeling, the bond had been a heavy weight of darkness since he fell, twisted and sick, a malignant thing that tore at Obi Wan's light viciously. But when the bond went dead it was worse.

Obi Wan was haunted with nightmares of maiming his apprentice, his darling Anakin, the sole focus and light of his life these past 15 years. He felt as if he too had been cleaved in two, his soul split assunder as its other half perished in the lava field of Mustafar. He tried to tell himself it had been mercy, to have left Anakin to live as a lord of the Sith, to walk in the dark would have been worse.

But nothing brought him comfort. Nothing except the tendrils of light from Luke's bright force signature. So like his father in body and spirit. It was some kind of sweet torture to watch him from afar, a minature Anakin playing at being a pilot, hair fair and skin golden from the Tatooine suns, chasing droids outside the farm where Anakin's beloved mother rested, where his father had once stood.

The day the inquisitor told him he had already been nursing that open festering wound in his soul, ripped open by the brilliant and beautiful Leia Organa. If Luke was like his father, Leia was Anakin entirely, her force signature so like his Obi Wan could barely keep himself from reaching out and enveloping her in his own. She was spirited, passionate, brave, funny, intelligent; oh how he ached with it. She may have Padme's dark eyes and hair, but she was all Anakin.

Then she said the words he'd longed for, Anakin Skywalker is alive.

It happened all at once, he reached out and found him immediately, the remnants of his Anakin, so scarred and twisted it caused him physical pain.

'Anakin,' he gasped. In that moment he knew Anakin had felt him. The dark twisted thing that had been ripped away, his soul a ragged torn half hanging mutilated was now whole again, what was left of Anakin Skywalker now fused with him, the bond rushing back to life.

Anakin was in pain, so much pain. Obi Wan felt to all fours, panting, shields slamming into place, he must not know about Leia. But he had seen him, the being he loved most in the galaxy, scared and broken, limbless, his soul steeped in the anger of the Sith. It should have been worse than death, but Obi Wan felt properly alive for the first time in ten years. For the first time in ten years he was whole again.

#obikin #vaderwan #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywaker #soul mates #force dyad #bond #writing propmts #prompt fill #answered asks #fic prompts

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wolveria · 1 year

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Remember the Grimm episode where Nick becomes obsessed with that elf girl from one touch?

That should become like a new soul mate au kinda thing. The scenarios that could come from this premise 👀

Character A has the The Touch™️ and went without physical contact for all their life, then suddenly they get tackled out of the way of-idk-a car or biker by Character B? Clothes shift enough that skin on skin contact happens. And now their savior is head over heels. 😌

The episode kinda implied the elf gave the people she touched artistic skills or enhanced natural artistic abilities so what if that but more? 😏 Enhanced stamina, strength, health? All in the name of protecting the one with The Touch™️?

Anyway. I wanted to send you something fun to find whenever you next check asks 😋

New soulmate AU, love it

#grimm #writing prompt #soul mates #sex pollen #annwayne

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thedarkmaidenn · 1 year

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Poetry Prompt #16 - Finding your soulmate

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hail-gail · 2 years

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Writing Prompt #4

Everyone is born with a gift, what they do with it and what it influences them to become is represented by a mark on the wrist. You have a mark, but no gift.

One day you sit staring at the despised mark trying to figure out what it means when someone walks by and compliments your tattoo before continuing on unaware that they just gave all the answers to your problems and what your mark really means.

This could also be a fun soul mate au or something

#writing inspiration #writing prompt #writeblr #writing #random writing #writers on tumblr #imagine your otp #soul mates

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thelegendarywriter · 1 year

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A prompt that I thought of, but never wrote myself.

With their person around, our protagonist always has the greatest luck. One night they've gone missing, and it's felt when our protagonist suffers a series of unfortunate events after their disappearance. Our protagonist visits a fortune teller who tells them how to get their person back.

There's a waterfall that spawns a portal every full moon. Through the gates under the waterfall is where their soul will be. Release their loved one's soul and they will return to our protagonist.

#soul mates #original prompt #original #original idea #writing prompt #story prompt #creative writing ideas #creative writing prompt #storytelling #use this #love story #full moon #waterfall #fortune telling #the hero's journey

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ifaflutterby · 1 year

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Does anyone have that writing prompt / story of people born with tattoos that help them find their soul mate? I can't find it and I'm bummed

#writing prompt #soul mates #tatttoos

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utterlyotterlyx · 2 months

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Cassian and writing prompt #21, “Stay”

I’m desperate for more Cassian x Reader fics!! Thank you :)

Arsonist's Lullaby

Cassian x Fem!Reader

Summary - Cassian thinks he knows best when he pushes you away, to protect you, but nothing prepared him for a threat on your life and no one can stop him from reaching you.

Warnings - angst, smut smut smut, fluffffffff, swearing, mentions of death

Word Count - 4.9k

Sunlight speckled over your skin, its warm embrace curling around like Cassian once did, glittering its unwavering love across your paled surface, willing it back to life.

It wasn't out of the ordinary for you and Cassian to fight, but something about that fight felt different. More final in a way.

Cassian was always worrying over you, his mate, and what harm his title could potentially inflict upon you. He had been pushing you away, had been spending more time away from you; you knew why, you knew he was scared of being the reason anything happened to you but that didn't mean that he had to shut you out.

Your mate had done everything to prepare you for any potential attack, any risk to your life, you were a skilled fighter thanks to Cassian, even Azriel broke into a sweat sparring against you and Cassian smirked with pride at the image.

Weakness was not a part of your vocabulary, he knew that, but he still treated you as a fragile swirl of winter warmth and you weren't appreciating it.

Confronting Cassian had ensued an argument that would shatter any unmated couple, you had both hurled abusive words to one another, you had called him spineless and unwilling to fathom your ability to be able to care for yourself like you had during the war against Hybern when you had used your rare gift of Solakenisis to hurtle spheres of radiating flame across the battlefield. In return, Cassian had called you weak and pathetic, he had called you reckless and immature, and landed his final blow of calling you jealous of the other women in your circle for having the freedom and strength that you would never be able to wield.

Such an argument left you both panting, with raw throats and wet cheeks, with snarls of hatred sculpted to your usually attached lips.

Cassian had left you then, had left you alone in your shared home with a bag in his hand without a word of when he would return to you. It felt final. It felt damning.

So you decided to leave yourself, but instead of leaving to escape the too-large-for-yourself home to the sanctuary of the residence of your family, you chose to leave the city altogether and chose to not tell a soul, not even Rhys as he tapped on the walls of your iron clad mind once he had felt your essence float through his wards.

Sunlight continued to kiss your skin as you lay in the familiar comfort of your Day Court bed, in the room Helion had promised to always keep for you. Helion was your older brother, well half-brother, but he wouldn't let anyone mutter a word about your bastard heritage, your shared father had been quite the rake in his prime, and such actions birthed you, his bastard daughter with the power to harness the destructive powers of the sun.

It was baffling for you to comprehend why exactly Cassian was so worried for you when you had the ability to unleash heavenly fire across Prythian if you so wished it. That, and the fact that the bond had snapped for Cassian one evening in Day was why Rhys had lobbied for your presence in his court in the first place all those years ago, long before Amarantha.

Amarantha was intrigued by you, you were the only individual she wasn't able drain power from, your abilities were other-worldly, untouchable. So, she gave you an option, stay uninvolved and advise her or watch your brother perish before your eyes. You chose the former.

All you have is your fire. Use it.

Amarantha erupted into flames when she had killed Feyre, unable to free herself from the bindings you had chained around her limbs. She had screamed, gargled in fact as you stood behind her, hands at your sides and your mind ripping her apart from the inside out. Boiling and burning her alive. Fire danced through your hair, it burned brightly in your eyes, sunlight pulsed around you, a blinding thing, a warning to others.

Your power was not yours to gift, it was not for anyone else to yield but you, Helion knew as much and was stern as he told Tamlin that you were not to offer up any of your power to save the human girl in his arms.

That said human girl, Feyre, now your High Lady, had grown to be a very good friend of yours.

Rising from the depths of the cream silken sheets, you touched your rough cheeks, crying for hydration from the tears you had poured upon them for the eighth night in a row. The bond had gone cold by your own foolish wish, you had locked it off, you had refused any attempts of contact, and Helion had obliged and denied your presence in his court when Rhys and Cassian had reached to him, Helion had even gone as far as to plant a seed in Feyre's mind that you may be in Autumn since Eris was a good friend of yours despite his relationship with the Night Court.

Autumn was the one place they would have difficulty infiltrating, and Eris was more than happy to play along if it gave you some peace.

Eight days was the longest you had gone without Cassian, without anything flowing through the bond, without seeing him, without being wrapped up in his body as he fucked you relentlessly into oblivion.

It was exhausting.

The Day Court sun brought some life back to you, cascading her glow upon you and enriching your skin with her gentle loving shimmer. She had always doted on you, the energy she bestowed upon you was unmatched, and you often found her watchful eye following you wherever you walked, whispering to you always.

The sun had chosen you, her vessel, to right the wrongs of the world, and Cassian always chose to look over that fact.

Your home court was known for its elaborate fashion, the ornate gold jewellery and accessories that you had found wrapped around your hands and feet, and the halo crown caressing the back of your head. The dress you had worn held a solid gold bodice of intricate swirls that allowed your skin to peek out beneath it, that attached to a pale shimmering skirt, and golden chains draped across your collarbones and fell down your spine. It moulded to your figure perfectly.

You were not weak or jealous, or reckless, you were a child of the sun, a strong and formidable creature. No one, not even Cassian, could take that from you.

Cassian had been cursed out by every member of your shared family when he had arrived at the House of Wind looking like shit with a bag between his fingers.

He thought he was right. He thought he was protecting you. But after having his ass handed to him by Azriel and Rhys, and Feyre and Mor's stern words, and Amren's glare of pure disgust, Cassian knew he had fucked up.

Cassian had raced back to your shared home, one that was a harmonious myriad of light and dark, of sun and night, and found it solemn and empty. He had raced up the stairs, he had looked in your drawers and saw everything still in place, then he had headed to your vanity and inhaled sharply when he saw that the small picture of your mother had gone, which meant you had too.

Screaming down the bond, Cassian was met with a stone cold wall of rippling silence, and he broke. Cassian fell to his knees holding one of your dressed between his fingers, it still smelt of you, of hot salted ocean breezes and fresh roses, and he cried.

He had spent the next week trying to locate you, being turned away from every court, even Helion had no idea where you had gone, but had told Feyre that you may have gone to Eris, your friend, as you knew that would be the one place he couldn't get to you.

Rhys had demanded entry to Autumn, which Eris had refused with a sly smirk on the boarder, his hounds circling through his legs. Eris was enjoying Cassian's pain far too much and had the gall to quip, "She doesn't want to see you, Lord of Bloodshed. Perhaps you listen to her this time, considering you have a habit of refusing to."

A spit in the face of his love for you. Cassian had gone to step over the threshold only to be held back by Azriel, Eris' hounds were snarling and barking at the three Illyrians trying to enter their home, "You would risk war?"

Eris grinned, fixing the lapels of his jacket, "A war would take y/n from you forever. I don't think you'd be that stupid," he turned from them, whistling for his hounds to follow, "As long as she's here, she will be fine. I suggest you go home and mull over the ways in which you have failed her."

Missions were the only thing that would give Cassian the opportunity to relent his frustrations, his force was sickening, he broke the bones of their enemies with his bare hands, he ripped them apart with his own self-loathing fury. Azriel had never seen Cassian in such a state, he blamed himself for your disappearance, and rightfully so, any of them could have told him that you were capable of destroying him if needed, let alone anyone else. Though, Azriel didn't blame Cassian for trying to protect you, for believing that your bond could bring harm to you, Azriel would think the same if he were in Cassian's shoes.

"Cass, we do need at least one of them alive," Azriel followed his brother on his war path, he watched him in concern as he drove his sword through the hearts of many soldiers.

Bodies lay broken around them, blood coated the ground and walls, it was a monstrous sight to take in. Cassian's hair lay unbound on his shoulders, matted with sweat that coated his brow, his wings were tense as he swung, they shuddered in fear of his force.

Cassian grunted to Azriel, whipping his air away from his face and facing him with a dead glare behind his hazel eyes, "Fine," he smirked and sheathed his sword, motioning to Azriel to approach the singular male who was moments away from death.

Blood coated his lips, his eyes had dimmed, but he still wore evil like a brooch on his heart, he spat the contents of his bloody mouth at Azriel as he bent down to grasp him by the collar, "You're going to tell me of your plans to attack Velaris, you're going to tell me and I may spare you."

The male chuckled low and sinister, hatred blazed in his faltering eyes and he smiled, toothy, but blood coated the once yellow tinged teeth. There wasn't much time to get answers, "We're already moving, you're too late."

Azriel cocked his head to the side, "I'm going to need more than that. I can make this much more painful for you," Truthteller dragged across the males bobbing throat, he knew of the Shadowsinger, he had heard to rumours of his ruthless torture.

The males gaze flickered to Cassian who stood behind Azriel, leaning against the bloodied wall looking disinterested, "You can thank him for that," his finger twitched in Cassian's direction, "Do you really believe that your High Lord is the protector of your court?" The male leaned forward, "Your greatest protector, the most powerful being in Prythian, is no longer being hidden by your court. She is elsewhere, we have been watching her, preparing for the perfect moment to snatch her away. With her power in our grasp, we will be unstoppable."

Cassian felt panic settle in his soul as the male continued, bitterly laughing as he spoke, "Y/N. A child of the sun, back in her home court, ready to follow her destiny. You can thank your Lord of Bloodshed for accelerating our plans."

Azriel turned to Cassian with wide eyes, eyes that Cassian matched. It was never about attacking Velaris, it was about capturing you, using your power for their own tyrannical plans, bleeding you dry and taking your power from your body.

"Cass-"

But Cassian was already moving, turning on his heels and pelting from the room as fast as he could, flexing his wings to ready them for flight whilst calling out to Rhys to meet them at the Day Court Palace as fast as possible.

Cassian flew as fast as he could, he would never be able to forgive himself if anyone harmed you, especially when he had made it so easy for them to reach you. He had to find you, he had to stop it, he had to save you.

Helion growled at the intrusion of the three Illyrians entering his personal library that was three times the size of the library at the House of Wind, but his snarl faltered when he saw the frenzied eyes and the blood coating Cassian and Azriel's armour. He rose from his seat quickly, not having a moment to say anything when Cassian paced over to him, "I don't have time for pleasantries. She's in danger. Where is she?"

Helion noted the fire in Cassian's eyes, the way his siphons glowered dangerously in awaiting answer, "How do I know that this isn't some elaborate ruse to take her?"

Azriel stepped forward, voice low in warning, noticing Cassian's fists clench and his chest seethe with anger, "Our enemies have been hunting her, they wish to drain her power and unleash it on the world. We need to find her."

Helion's language shifted, he faced Cassian with equal fury, going toe to toe with the Lord of Bloodshed and bit, "If anything happens to my sister, I will end you."

"I will end myself before you ever could, now tell me where she is."

A wild wind bellowed through the open arches, enough for Helion to wince at the forceful impact. That wind swarmed through the palace, it was wild and cold, it was a warning from the world to run and hide. Helion fought against it toward the balcony, his locks whipping around in the tornado that had encased his court, his eyes focused on the forest in the distance and he pointed, "She's in there."

Then, from nowhere, bright thunderous light quaked from the sky as large spheres of sun fire raced past them and slammed into the ground below, where you were. The trees lurched with the impact, splintering and sprouting in differing directions, wailing at their demise, and the ocean dragged itself back to a safe distance. Fire rained from the sky, but the wind was too forceful for any of them to fly to you.

"RHYS!" Cassian bellowed to his brother, their eyes locked and he nodded, catching Cassian with a free hand with Azriel in the other, winnowing them to where they needed to be.

The scene was sickening. Trunks lay cracked and broken, simmering fire trickled along the earth that rumbled beneath their feet with each impact of fire that slammed against the ground. They couldn't see two feet in front of them let alone much else due to the heavenly light that emitted from you, but Cassian felt you, for the first time in what felt like centuries, he felt you.

Cassian felt your fury course down the bond, it was mixed with fear and guilt, and it lead them straight to you. In return, he threw all of his love down the bond as another sphere of your fire hurtled down through the sky, and he swore he could have heard you gasp and pause.

The light dimmed, and their eyes adjusted to see you in the clearing metres ahead from them, surrounded by bodies, some bloody and other burnt beyond recognition. A dagger was glued between your fingers and you let our a shaky exhale, like you didn't realise you had been holding your breath all that time.

The clearing looked more like a crater, a once plush area of wildlife that you sought comfort in was now a crater of ash and broken souls, and Cassian watched your cracked eyes survey your surroundings, hating what you had done.

Cassian rushed to you, slamming his body into yours and cradling you into his chest, "Are you alright?" He pulled away and cupped your face in his hands gingerly, wiping away the ash that had settled on your cheeks, "Speak to me, my love."

"I'm okay," your voice was hoarse and quiet, your eyes connected and he saw the tears pool in them along with the devastation that coursed through the bond, "I'm sorry. You were right-"

"Don't apologise," he told you, wiping away the tears that spilled down your ashen cheeks, leaving streaks of sunlight flowing down them, "I was wrong, so wrong. You don't need anyone to protect you, you aren't weak or jealous, you are strong and more capable of protecting yourself more than anyone I know. You are your greatest protector, not me. I'm so sorry, I was just trying to keep you tucked away and safe. But you've always meant to shine, I never should have tried to stop it."

"You were trying to keep me safe, Cass," your voice trailed off and you examined the scene, paying no notice to Rhys and Azriel at the edge of your crater, "What have I done?"

Cassian's fingers ran through your hair, "You did what you had to, alright? It's okay. If I hadn't pushed you away then none of this would have happened. I'm so stupid. I'm so sorry."

Your hands lay on his chest and you sighed, "Take me home, Cass. I can't be here."

Cassian had doted on you the moment you were back in his arms, he ordered Rhys to winnow you both back to your shared home whilst Azriel stayed to assure Helion that you were fine and in need of some much needed time with your mate.

The searing heat of the tub wound around your muscles and soothed the ache in your soul. The water was far too hot for Cassian to climb into, so he instead sat on the edge of the tub and washed your hair, picking apart the knots within it and allowed his large hands to unwind the bundled nerves in your shoulders.

When the water had gone cold, he lifted you from the tub and dried your limbs, he brushed your damp hair and dressed you in a thin nightgown, and not once did he stop apologising to you, not once did his lips stop peppering kisses along your shoulders and forehead.

You stood before him, needing much more than just sweet kisses and kind words.

"Tell me what you need," he had said when he saw the look in your eyes, one that radiated doubt but also desire.

Cassian stood still in front of you, his hands resting on your hips and you stood on your tiptoes to capture his lips in a searing kiss, one that he hummed into, allowing his hand to cradle the back of your head as he deepened it. Cassian had missed your lips too much.

Against his own building desire, Cassian gently pushed you backward, "My love, you're hurting," he didn't want to take advantage of your vulnerability in that moment.

"Do you love me?"

Cassian frowned, and let out a disbelieving scoff, "More than anything."

"Good," you pressed your lips to his again, pulling back slightly and peering at him through your lashes, "Because I need you to fuck me like you don't."

His cock twinged at the words and he closed his eyes, opening them to see you push the straps of your nightgown over your shoulders, revealing your peaked nipples to him as it fell down your body. Cassian knew why you needed it, you needed to feel something other than the pain of destroying one of your most sacred places, you needed him in the most passionate way possible.

"Are you sure?" Fire spread through him when you used his forearms as leverage to capture his lips on yours again, in a starving embrace, one that sent blood pooling to his cock that throbbed against his leathers in knowing that where it needed to be was only inches away.

Cassian walked you backwards until your legs hit the back of your bed and you lowered yourself onto the mattress. Fierce lust was laced within you, you propped you heels up on the frame and spread your legs to your mate, that feral animalistic need to be rutted filling the room illuminated by flickering candlelight.

Wasting no time, Cassian ripped his leathers from his body and fell to his knees before you, his muscles contracted in the golden hue of the room, he grasped your thighs and dragged you toward him, his warmth breath fanning over your core as he placed kisses down your stomach and in the creases of your thighs, making you suck in a shaky breath as he placed a final peck to the bundle of nerve that were aching for his tongue.

"I've missed the taste of you so much, my love," the movement of his lips on your skin made electricity course through you, the stubble of his beard scratching against your inner thighs.

Whining, your back arched when he drug his tongue up your slit, the groan emitting from his throat vibrating against you threatening to blind all of your senses. He smiled against your core, winding his tongue around your clit and sucking on the nerves, his fingers dug into your thighs to stop your squirming as his pace became relentless. Sucking, biting, and swirling his tongue in the ways he knew made you turn into a mewling mess, he pumped his cock in his hand to relieve the building pressure, to allow him to focus on you, his beautiful moaning mess of a mate completely at his mercy.

Cassian lapped up your taste, groaning in pleasure at it as he pumped his digits in you, pressing down on your stomach with his free hand to make that rough spot inside of you meet every brush of his touch. He noted the hitch of your breath and the way your fingers found his hair, pushing his face into your cunt, telling him how close you were from falling from grace. Cassian kept his pace, taking your throbbing clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue against it as his fingers hit that spot again and again until you were crying out his name and tensing around his fingers.

Your mate continued his tirade, pulling two more orgasms from your lips before his pace slowed and he removed his fingers from you. Humming, he sucked your juices from one of his fingers and then slid the other into your mouth as he hovered over you, his cock ready and weeping on your thigh.

He threw your clenched legs apart and nestled between them, "You can thank me tomorrow," he told you, no doubt alluding to the fact that your lips hadn't found his cock yet, "I just need you."

Without warning, he pushed into you, and his delicious cock stretched you out, you threw your head back and moaned, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he lowered himself and captured your lips hungrily against his own, transferring the taste of you to your tongue. He moved, slowly at first, and you met his hips in the rolling rhythm he had created, then he became more desperate and picked up his pace, biting and sucking at the skin on your neck, no doubt marking it for everyone to see once he would allow you out of your bed after fucking you on every surface possible.

Cassian groaned into the crook of your neck, his fingers held a bruising grip on your hip as he slammed into you, the tip of his cock smacking against that rough spot inside of you, "I love you, y/n. I love you so much," his brows were furrowed, like he knew how much force he was using and had to tell you how much he loved you just in case he was taking it too far.

Panting, you replied, "I love you too, Cass. I love you," you were cut off by your own moan, your hands flew above your head encased in his own, he gripped the sheets and snarled and he pulled out of you and flipped you over, pushing your head into the mattress and growling as the tip of his cock teased your entrance again, and you took it in it's entirety, groaning so deliciously that it took everything within Cassian to not explode at the sight of your ass bouncing on his cock.

Cassian bent down, his fingers delicately wrapped around your throat and pulled you upright, his fingers stayed there, restricting your oxygen in the best way imaginable as he pushed up into you, sucking and nibbling on your earlobes and neck between his own rough moans of pleasure.

As long as you had Cassian, there was nothing else you'd ever need to feel fulfilled. He was everything, your life and death, your shoulder to sob upon, your cock to cum on. Cassian was yours, his soul belonged to you just like every fibre of your existence hung onto him.

"Stay. Don't ever leave me again," his voice was full of emotion in your ear as he fucked you into the whispering depths of the ocean that was your bond.

Cassian's free hand twisted at your nipples before travelling downward, resting atop your stomach and pushing your hips backward to meet his relentless thrusts, and you felt the familiar pressure building there, holding on wasn't possible when his fingers travelling further, finding your clit and tracing slow circles into the nerves, smirking into your shoulder as high pitched cries flowed from your lips.

"I'll never leave you," you were breathless, and you hardly felt him pull out from you as he pushed you onto your back again, throwing your leg over his arm and pounding into you until he began to falter. His lips found your nipple again, sucking and biting on the sensitive nub of skin, and his fingers continued to flicker over your clit, "Cass, please. I'm going to-"

"So am I," he groaned, pressing his forehead to yours, "Cum for me, my love," Cassian pressed his lips to yours, capturing your orgasm in his mouth before releasing your lips to allow you to scream his name as that searing white heat consumed your entire body.

Cassian could have swore you began to glow as it consumed you, and you basked in that warmth, he basked in the clench of your walls quivering around his cock and milking him until there was nothing left to fill you with. Your mate fucked you through both of your highs, groaning your name and growling as he filled you, panting as he slowed his pace and lay on top of you.

In the comfortable silence, you found him staring at you with wonder, he hovered over you propped up on his elbows, tracing his fingers along your glistening skin, "What?"

Cassian smiled, "I want a baby," he admitted, "I can't stop myself from being scared about losing you, a part of me will always be terrified. But, what I can stop is myself holding back in the life I dream of with you," his hazel eyes scoured your face, and peace settled between you, "I want a product of us, of our love and strength. I want a family with you, a big family full of love and wonder and adventure where you have to tell me off after our fourth for wanting another," you giggled tearfully beneath him and he wiped a tear away with the pad of his thumb, "The idea of losing you is my greatest fear, y/n. I don't want anything to happen to us, and I don't want us to be left with nothing if-"

"Cass," you cooed to him, pulling him from the devastating thoughts in his mind, "I want all of that too, I want the picket fence and enough children to drive Az insane. Enough cousins for Nyx for them all to grow up in their own inner circle and replace us all one day. I want a life with you void of sadness. I want you, forever, even when our day comes to leave this reality, I will want you and I will guide you to the heavens so that we may live in an eternity of love waiting for everyone we adore to join us."

Cassian pulled you up the bed and encased you in his arms, draping a thin sheet over your forms and running his fingers through your hair whilst you kissed his chest softly, "You found me in darkness and we made our own light. We burn brighter than anything that may await us," he kissed your forehead and gazed into your eyes, a smirk worked its way onto his face, "The sun has nothing on you, you know."

Authors Note

Daddy Casssss

Hope you love it! x

384 notes · View notes

azrielbrainrot · 8 months

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SFW Alphabet with Azriel

note: I've seen a lot of people from a lot of fandoms do this so I have no idea who made the original prompts. Let me know if you do so i can tag them!

also I don't know what this is, just wanted to write down my thoughts

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

I think Azzie is really affectionate but mostly in private. I see him always gravitating around you and giving you small soft touches when you're in front of the ic or other people but then being clingy as hell when you're alone. This man is touch starved, he needs to catch up.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

I think you'd have to fist fight Cass for the title but he would be the best friend ever. I mean he's been nothing but soft and helpful with all of his friends. After you get past his millions of trust issues, Az is probably really easy to befriend. It might take a while for you to get to bestfriend but i don't think it would be hard.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He demands cuddles every night. I can see him being the little spoon as often as he's the big spoon, depends on what he's feeling up to that day.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I think that's all he wants at this point and he's probably such a good cook.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He'd probably be really firm but also really nice about it which would actually make it hurt infinitely worse. I can see him literally going down a list of your qualities and telling you how truly amazing you are while breaking up with you. He'd make sure you were semi alright before leaving as well but still make sure you knew this was final.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Well he craves commitment but he also has been running from it for over 500 years so I think it's a complicated feeling. I think he wants commitment more than anything but is also a tiny bit afraid of it and he only wants it with the right person.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He's so gentle I could cry. He's been waiting all his life for someone to love and he will treat you with the most care possible both emotionally and physically.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

I don't see Az being that much of a hugger but he probably gives the best hugs. Both arms (and wings) wrapped around you and face buried in your neck or in your hair type of hugs.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I'm not sure he's ever said it to someone romantically (probably hasn't said it too many times platonically either) so it would probably take a while. He'd want to make sure it will really work out before saying it. You'd probably have to say it first.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

I know this is supposed to be sfw but he probably ties you up with his shadows and fucks you within an inch of your life. I don't think he'd be getting jealous all that often (excluding the typical mate possessiveness) but he'd still fuck you extra hard just to make sure. Besides that I think he could actually feel really hurt by it if it's a more serious scenario like imagine you've been hanging out with someone a lot and he starts to feel excluded. In that case I think his abandonment issues would resurface and you'd have to remind him how much you love him and how silly it would be to even entertain the idea of wanting someone else.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He gives the best kisses and I will not take any criticism on this. Like soul consuming type of kisses. Not only does he have 500 years of practice but even when he was young I just know he made sure to perfect it because he can't do anything half assed. His shadows might even give him little tips

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He has such a calming presence that I just know kids love him. And his shadows probably give him brownie points. He's probably awkward at first though.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Well he trains at the crack of dawn so you'd probably wake up to an empty bed :/ but he'd always kiss your cheek before leaving even if you're unaware. Might even leave you little notes on your nightstand sometimes.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Reading in bed together. Cuddling covered in his shadows, completely hidden away from the rest of the world. Tucked away and watching over everyone at parties with the rest of the inner circle. Flying over velaris when his insomnia gets the best of him. Cute picnic dates in an isolated place somewhere only the two of you know. (I didn't wanna say fucking because this is sfw but let's be honest). I think every night with Azriel would make you fall in love with him all over again.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It would take time for Azriel to really open up and I definitely think he'd go bit by bit.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

I think he tries to be as patient as possible but let's not forget he almost killed Eris and was the first to speak up when Tamlin was insulting Feyre. He's probably really patient normally, especially with his partner and family, but when he gets angry I think it boils over quickly.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers everything about you to the point you suspect he has a journal with every little detail.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Is it too cheesy to say he cherishes every moment he's had with you? He definitely cherishes just having you there in the moments he felt lonely before. Like coming home from a mission and instead of an empty room you're right there waiting for him, probably staying up to see him even when he tells you it's not necessary. When he has nightmares and you're right there comforting him and kissing his tears away. At family dinners when he doesn't have to feel jealous of his brothers and just reaches out and kisses your hand making you smile at him and have him thank the Mother for the thousandth time for gifting him the blessing of a mate as lovely as you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He's really protective. Probably keeps some of his shadows around you to make sure you're alright at all times. But I think he also wants to feel protected since he had so many times when no one was protecting him.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He would go above and beyond every time. Always searching for new restaurants that cook your favorite foods or picnic spots that would take your breath away. He would give you the most thoughtful gifts too, things you barely remember mentioning. He'd give you these gifts out of nowhere too. He'd spoil you rotten really.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

I don't see him being great at communicating. If he feels hurt by something i think he'd pull back instead of addressing it. I feel like he has some passive aggressiveness in him as well.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

I don't think Azzie is as nonchalant about his looks as he appears to be. He's not as concerned as Rhys but I don't think he's that far off either.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes which makes me a bit sad.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Azriel pets and feeds stray cats and you can't convince me otherwise. He's also the top benefactor of every shelter in the night court.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

People that aren't open minded.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Not sleeping. jk He loves sleeping on his stomach with his face buried in your neck or chest and will literally purr if you pet his hair. I think he'd pull you to him unconsciously as well.

#azriel headcanons #acotar headcanon #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fic

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theprofessionalpromptmaker · 3 months

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Person A: But he’s my soulmate! Person B: Is that supposed to be an endorsement? Anyone whose soul is tied to your’s is highly likely to be someone the world would be better off without.

#mod poss #dialogue prompts #dialogue prompt #writerblr #original writing #writing inspiration #story prompt #creative writing #writing ideas #soul mate au

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writinginthetwilight · 4 months

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Knock, knock.

Series Warnings: 18+ for smut in later parts if you are under 18 you do not belong here, be gone. AFAB!reader. Angst. Fluff. Strong language. Bittersweet ending. Eddie and reader are in their late 20's. Soul mates au sort of? Parallel universes. Horror-esk/creepy vibes.. Hopefully. Flowery prose. Relationship breakdowns. Shitty relationships. I'll add as I go on.

Authors note. This whole fic idea has me in a choke hold and came from prompt 6 of the stranger prompts by @bettyfrommars @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing. I hope I do the idea in my head justice and you all enjoy. Love you bye.

6. You move into a new apartment and soon discover that you share a wall with a very noisy neighbor. Loud laughter, talking, and music are a constant companion. When you decide to go over and knock on their door to confront them in person, you find that the apartment is unoccupied and has been for months.

please reblog, comment and tell me what you think.

Masterlist

Part 1 - Boundary lines carved from paint, plaster and sleep.

You can tell the moment you see it that the apartment wasn't meant to be there.

The front door sticks like it's a size too big for its frame, dark wood groaning as you lean your weight against it like it knows. Knows it's too far to the left and opens the wrong way. You stumble through when it finally relents, the doorknob slamming harshly into the drywall, fitting into a groove which has been left from years of protest.

The smell hits you first, stale but that was to be expected of somewhere advertised as ‘long term vacant’. Letting out your own low groan you stretch your arms above you, pausing as you take in your surroundings.

This wasn't advertised.

Your eyes trail to the far right of the door where a scar runs up the wall, it stretches the entire length of the ceiling and down alongside the adjacent window, effectively splitting the room by a third.

Its ridges and fissures catch the soft mid-morning light as you go to stand beneath it, flaking plaster and paint suggesting there was an attempt to cover it at some point. With some more care it could have been smoothed over, but that love and attention has obviously been thought best used somewhere else.

Relatable.

The flattering angles of the pictures online hadn't shown it, nor did they show the awkward corners and odd proportions that make up the right side of the apartment, the wall pinching in and curving out, in obvious accommodation for whatever lies on the other side.

Within that third boundary, the small kitchenette sits, hacked and patched to fit the uneven space.

Your fingers run over the filled in holes that need sanding and trace the edge of a socket that's been given up on.

You add the jobs to your mental checklist and choose to ignore the way the thick dust that blankets the worktop smudges against your clothes as you lean over it, peering through a window half obscured by an overhead cabinet.

The streets below are warped by sepia coloured smudges on the panes and it distorts your reflection, twisting it like there's movement from behind you.

It makes you turn, your attention brought to the other side of the room where there are no scars, walls smooth besides the mark from the door, and you deduce that the bulk of the apartment must have come from that side.

The dated green carpet has long lost its pile, leaving no give beneath your feet as you pad over to the only other doorway.

Dust swirls in slivers of light as you open it, dancing in the perfectly square room, it's small but not claustrophobic and you can picture what it will look like decorated and filled with your belongings. You're about to write it off as un-noteworthy but then there's the ensuite.

The door’s too close to the wall again and instead of straight ahead, the room stretches to the right.

The full length of the bedroom.

It's so long you could lay down arms stretched overhead without touching either end, but so narrow that your thighs will brush the side of the tub when you sit on the toilet.

It's dark, no windows or frills, just the necessary amenities to mean it's functional. It seems to look back at you as you stand at its threshold and you frown closing the door immediately on the weird space.

Making your way back out, chewing the inside of your cheek you take everything in again.

It's not what you expected but, besides the bathroom feeling like a tomb, it's not too small or too unclean, no damp or mould just dust and discoloured walls that come with anywhere unoccupied after a certain amount of time.

The more you stand and look around the more you find a charm in the way it's misshapen, like it refuses to belong, and now it's yours.

Just yours.

You can hear footsteps and murmurs from above and around you, as parallel lives go on oblivious to your own.

A giddy flutter runs through you and so you begin.

Maybe it could have been more, but in the moment nothing seemed like it was worth the argument.

It takes the rest of the morning for you to haul everything up to the third floor from the back of your rental car. You try not to concentrate too hard on the fact that all your worldly possessions, once everything was said and done, didn't amount to a lot.

After all it was you who was leaving.

It took 12 trips up in the rickety elevator with curious faces sending you tight lipped smiles as you squeezed yourself in next to them. Most then averted their gaze as you bitched at your door, unmarked boxes rattling in burning sweat-slick hands as you finally fell through.

The self pitying thoughts of the fact you were doing this alone are kept at bay for the most part, mind kept busy by cleaning away the neglect of time and filling in paperwork.

But as the daylight fades, making way for unfamiliar shadows to crawl around you it gets harder.

Sat in the window, cast in orange light from the solitary lamp you own, eating Chinese takeout from a place down the block that you'd spotted on your way in, you try not to notice how the noises from the neighbours seem to echo louder than they should in the empty room.

You'd unpack tomorrow, the bigger items set to arrive which would stop the noise ricocheting so clearly. The new job would also give you enough money to make it feel like home, in time. The rent was a steal relatively speaking and it's close enough to your office that there's no real commute, this was good.

You wake with a start, a noise from the waking world pulling you from a dream that you already can't remember. The dark that surrounds you distorts and pixelates as your eyes adjust and there's a moment where adrenaline rushes you again when you can't quite work out where you are.

This was the right choice.

Then you remember.

The bare mattress is scratchy beneath your skin and the space around you feels vast even though you've downsized from the one you used to share, a lump in your throat forms at how cold the sheets feel while you reach out blindly looking for your phone but you swallow it with a frown.

Like he ever comforted you when you woke from a nightmare anyways.

Wincing at the brightness you see it's 3:00am, a multitude of WhatsApp messages lined up from various people you don't want to speak to, just checking in, sending well wishes. Cursing you out.

The default wallpaper, sits in place of where your smiling faces used to be, indescript waves of colour that shift on a set loop.

A clatter comes from the other side of the wall behind you followed by a loud curse and it breaks your vacant stare at the screen.

The room feels even darker than before as you throw your phone back onto the bed. With body and mind exhausted, oblivion takes you again quickly, unconscious mind closed off to the sound of something falling again which now echoes outside your bedroom door.

Next.

#strangerprompts #eddie munson x reader #my writing #eddie munson #eddie x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst

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