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wardenparker · 1 year

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Sassenach and the Spaniard - ch 7

Pero Tovar x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Delirious with sickness and near to death, Pero Tovar finds himself on the doorstep of a village outsider who nurses him back to health just before the winter snows descend. With a black cat for company, a mask on her face, and a biting wit that intrigues him, Pero comes to find out that his new companion is more than what she seems. ✨ Inspired and influenced by Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. ✨ Reader is described as disabled and having hair long enough to cover part of her face.

Rating: Mature Word Count: 5.4k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this fic include cursing, food mentions, references to previous sexual assault (multiple characters).** Unsavory situations and a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it reference to potential self harm. Summary: An unexpected visit from Arwena and Briac sets events in motion that will change absolutely everything. Found family fluff. Notes: A small but mighty chapter. Suspense is in the air!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6

Pero has never slept as soundly as he has in the small cottage with you and your cat Binx. He relaxes, knowing the door is secure against anything that could possibly break it down, save for a tree and a dozen men to ram it at your door. The shutters are secure against the snows and the fire burns low in the hearth, the coals banked and cherry red if stirred and ready to crackle back to life with another log or so thrown on. The cottage is isolated, never having visitors beyond Briac and his Arwena, just like they have come every other day for the last four weeks. Except they have never come during the night. The darkness outside isolating you and Pero into your own little world. So when the banging on the door wrenches Pero out of his sleep, he is instantly fearing the worst, springing from the bed and reaching for his sword. Still naked as he rushes to the door with the weapon in his hand. "Who is out there?" He shouts, making sure that his voice is threatening to anyone who intended harm.

"Tovar, por favor!" Briac's voice is panicked from outside, nearly cracking as he pounds on the door again. "You must let us in!"

"Briac?" From the depths of sleep, the banging and shouting has woken you, and the sound of the young man's voice on the other side of the door makes you reach for your chemise - pausing only to toss Pero his breeches so he does not scandalize Arwena when he opens the door. "Let them in, amor. Something must be wrong."

Pero drops the sword and curses, struggling into his breeches and not bothering to lace them up before he starts to lift the bar from the door so he can open it up. With a swirl of cold wind and snow, the two younger soulmates stumble into the cottage, nearly frozen. "Shit, did you walk here in this?" Pero demands, closing and baring the door again before he rushes over to build up the fire since they are here and cold.

"We left the horses with Caballo." Arwena can barely get the words out, shivering with the deep sting of January cold. They had managed to each take a horse even in the chaos of the night, and had come here as fast as they could with what few supplies they could muster. "Please." The fear in her eyes overrides any other emotion she could possibly be feeling. "You must help us."

"What is it?" Pero growls, expecting the worst and he moves towards the windows to look through the shutters to see if there is anyone out in the darkness. "What has happened?" He is imagining that they have learned that Arwena is being taught by you. That they are calling her a bruja as well.

"M-my father found out somehow." The girl is nearly in tears, falling into your arms for the comfort of a hug as she holds back frozen tears. "H—he says he would rather see me buried than wed to Briac, and h—" A dry sob wracks through her as you wrap your arms around her, hands traveling soothingly over her back.

"The priest read the first of the bans tonight." Briac swallows thickly, obviously overcome with emotions different that Arwena's devastation and distress. "He intends to marry Wena to the man who—who took her maidenhead."

"Fuck." Pero twists his head and looks at you and the devastated girl in your arms from where he is crouched down by the fire. He casts a glance around the cottage and knows that you can't keep the younger couple safe here. It's too close to the village and she will be forced to marry that man. "We will leave tonight." Pero decides, his eyes back on the boy to watch the pure relief wash over his face.

Knowing that this day was coming does not truly make you ready to leave the cottage you've come to call home. Years in this one room have been the most stable of any since you arrived in this time - although they have not always been easy - and the last few months especially have actually been happy. Resuming Arwena's lessons and coming together with Pero have restored the joy in your life. But therein lies the answer to your momentary dilemma: this cottage is your house, but these people are your home. "Wena, help me to pack what we will need most." Drying the tears from under her eyes, you give her one more squeezing hug before stepping back. "I am sure Pero will need Briac's help readying the horses with blankets and what food we can carry, but you know my supplies almost better than I do. We must pack what we can."

Pero comes over to you, reaching out and cupping your cheek. "Get your pet ready to take." He advises you quietly. This is rushed but he will not allow Binx to be left behind. Not when she means so much to you. "I will have to find us another horse along the way."

"I have a way to carry her." Years ago, after Binx had found you but before you had come to this party of Brittany, you had done your best to make a cat carrier pouch to wear like a modern parent might carry their baby in a backpack on their chest. It was long-abandoned in the bottom of your trunk, but thankfully you hadn't used it to keep the fire going on any brutally cold, extra-long nights. "Gather what we will need to survive winter traveling, and Arwena and I will tend to our belongings. What must be left, must be left." The chance to light a kiss on his lips is a savored one, knowing that you are giving up every luxury and safety that you have lived with for months in order to help your friends.

“I will protect you. And them.” He promises you, known that despite talking of leaving, you are nervous to leave the security of your cottage, the safety you have found in its walls. “And your chicken?” He asks, “what do you want to do with her?”

You sigh softly, resignation clear in your tone. "We will need to eat." It's not the ideal way to do any of this, but Arwena's safety and possibly Briac's life are at stake if you don't move quickly.

Pero nods. “I will make it a clean kill and we will carry the bird with us to cook for our first meal on the road.”

"We will do what we must." There isn't time for sentimentality, unfortunately, but you kiss Pero once more before turning to Arwena. "Quickly now," you encourage, trying to keep the anxiety and fear from your voice. She must be terrified enough without you getting emotional on her. "We want to be long gone before your father realizes you have fled."

Pero finishes dressing and turns to Briac. “Come. We must get the horses ready.” It will be a hurried, but necessary lesson on what is important when you need to travel quickly.

"We took two horses," Arwena tells you as the men go out the door. She is already moving around the space and beginning to gather up your bundles of dried herbs to pack them into leather sacks. "Briac's father gave one willingly, but I stole mine."

You nod, reaching to give her shoulder a supportive squeeze as you pass by her to find rope and leather to bundle blankets and your few spare clothes in. "You did what you must. This is survival now, Wena. The rules are different."

“I know.” Her devastation is replaced with resolve to escape the clutches of her father and forge her own path with Briac. “I stole something else.” She admits, handing you a full purse. “This is what my father has promised to his friend for me.”

"Your dowry?" The expression of heartbreak on your face probably should have been held back, but you can't help it. Coming from a time where paying for a bride is completely immoral, dowries seem barbaric to you. Gently pushing it back into her hand, you close her fingers around the leather satchel and sigh. "You should keep it for yourself, sweet girl. You will need much in the weeks and months to come."

“I want you to keep it safe.” She insists. “If— if they catch up to us.”

"When we part ways, it will go with you and Briac." Who knows when that will be - the plan for this grand escape of theirs was still barely half formed until tonight – but it will happen eventually.

“I understand.” She nods and is relieved that the pouch of coins is in your hands. She knows that her father might come after her, but she doesn’t know when or if he will think of her being with you.

"We will stay together as long as we can." The apprehension on her face eases only slightly and you grasp her hand tightly in passing her - moving around your worktable to drop vials of herbs and powders and potions into the medicine bag you were given years ago by the clan that found you at the Stones. "I promise you."

******

“We would rotate the horses if we had enough of them.” Pero tells Briac as they saddle the horses and start to pack the bags of grain for them. “Instead we will try to travel swiftly but not wearing them out. Short bursts of speed if necessary but pushing for longevity.”

"If we are lucky, it will take them time to figure out where we have gone." Briac follows each instruction swiftly, now being very well versed in how to care for a horse after practicing everything Pero had taught him. "Alba is far. They will not expect us to travel so much willingly." His brow furrows, casting a glance back at the cottage. "Her father still thinks me a simple coward. He will not expect much from an attempt to escape."

“Then he has not paid attention to the man you have become.” Pero grunts, having watched the boy become a man over the past months. “You have said your goodbyes to your family? It will be some time, if at all before you come back.”

"I have." The boy nods as he soothes his horse, who has rankled over being hustled about. "My parents understand. They love Arwena and accepted her as their daughter before we left to come here. If...it is unlikely, but if we are ever able to return, they will welcome us back with open arms."

“Good.” Pero swallows down his own emotions, imagining his mamá meeting you. He would have loved to see her gush over you like he knows she would have. “We will ride hard today. Going east for several leagues before we double back. Hopefully throw them off as to our destination.”

"Wh—where exactly is our destination?" One had not been settled upon that he knew of. Not in the few small conversations that the four of you had had regarding the journey, and he wonders if you and Pero had discussed it on your own.

“We will get you to Alba.” Pero tells him. “From there, we will find a priest to wed you, and Sassenach and I will head towards Inverness.”

"Must we really part so soon?" Understanding the inevitability of it, Briac doesn't question that the two couples will part ways, but only that it should happen so quickly. It seems to the younger man that there is strength in numbers.

“We will make sure that you are set before we leave you.” Pero promises, knowing the boy is nervous about starting life on his own.

"I only know that Arwena will miss Sassenach greatly." He does not want to admit that he will miss Pero as well, thinking of him as far more of a father than his own had ever been. The last few months had made Briac a man, and the men he admires do not let things like a heavy heart stand in their way. "Is there not some way we could stay with you until Inverness?"

“We will stay together as long as it is safe.” Pero promises, stopping his task and reaching over to clasp the boy on the shoulder. He can’t really think of him as a boy any longer, Briac is a man. “I am proud of you.” He tells him gruffly. “Keeping your head and getting your soulmate out of her situation is brave. Leaving everything you know behind even more so.”

"Thank you." Though his voice is quiet, Briac stands a little taller under such high praise. "She is my entire heart and half my soul. I could not leave her in danger any more than I could stop from breathing. I know you understand this."

“I do.” Pero nods his head once, understand in his eyes. “Come. We must finish here and slaughter the chicken before we leave Sassenach’s cottage. I want to be on the road by the dawn.”

"Aye." With a nod, Briac returns to his work. There is much to do and little time, and he will not disappoint anyone by dawdling.

Once the horses are ready, Pero huffs. He doesn’t like not having at least three more horses, especially not having one for you to ride. Although he won’t mind you riding in front of him, the combined weight will wear on the horse faster. “We need to check to see where the women are at.”

"The women are as ready as we can be." From the front door of the cottage, you and Arwena appear. Laden with bundles and parcels containing what you've agreed are the most essential of your belongings. Pero was used to travelling light, but you had lived a sedentary life for years now. "I know we cannot bring it all, but these are the things that we cannot leave behind."

Pero nods and looks at you with a frown on his face. “Put my extra breeches on under your skirts.” He tells you. “It will be cold and you will need the protection in the winds.”

"It will only get colder as we go north." You nod, agreeing with him because you know the weather will only get more inclement as you get closer to Scotland also. "It will be a hard enough ride without being freezing."

Briac also gives Arwena a set of his own breeches to put on, although he’s very perplexed at the idea and the two of them set out to tie off the bundles on the horses. “Make sure your weapons are ready.” Pero reminds him. “Never pack them up so you cannot reach your bow or sword.”

“Wear this.” The dagger you have kept by your side for every mile of travel in this time is now pressed into Arwena’s hands. It will tie easily to the belt she is already wearing, and you refuse to see her unarmed. “You do not yet know how to use magic against a foe,” you remind her when she starts to protest. “I have done so many times.”

"I will keep it safe and give it back to you." She promises, looking down at the knife in gratitude. Her own dagger had been taken from her when her father had told her about her impending nuptials to his friend. To prevent any 'unfortunate mishaps', as he told her.

“We will stay together as long as we can.” You won’t let go of that promise. Not when you’re having to leave under such dire circumstances. Arwena is a creature of hope and optimism and even when the darkness is threatening to envelope the four of you, you will make sure she shines brightly.

"I am so sorry this is happening." She blames herself for it, not sure how her father found out that Briac is her soulmate. She had been so careful to hid anything from him. "You should have had more time in your cozy cottage instead of traveling through the snow and cold."

“It is a journey we all intended to take together eventually,” you remind her softly. “In times of trial, we must do everything we can to ease each other’s woes.” The reassuring smile on your face widens a little, and you squeeze her shoulder. “We are your family now, Wena. And we will do everything we can to help you.”

"I will do what I can to make this easy as it can be for us." She promises, feeling better about all of this since you and Pero will be with them.

“Heed Pero’s instructions.” If nothing else, that will be the most important thing she can do for now. “He is the most well versed in the dangers of travel and it could be the difference of life and death.”

Pero and Briac come back into the cottage, stomping their feet and shuddering slightly. "We should eat before we leave." Pero hates that there is not more time, but the best thing he can do is make sure that you three are far away from the village by the time the bastard catches wind of Arwena's escape. "And we will take all the bedding, wrapping it around our bodies for more warmth."

"One more meal together here before we leave." You nod in agreement, knowing that empty bellies will only make the journey uncomfortable and unpleasant fast. You've done enough of your own traveling without any food to know that. "I will fix it quickly. Pero can make sure I have not forgotten anything essential."

Pero moves over to the trunk that you have shared with him since he had shown up on your stoop. Several of the leathers that he has had processed have been sewn during the late nights when he hadn’t been in your bed. Knowing that they would be needed, he hadn’t realized they would be needed this soon. “Briac, come here.” He orders the boy.

“Aye.” Though he isn’t keen to leave Arwena’s side, he follows Pero’s instructions immediately.

Pero pulls out the leather armor that he had stitched for the boy, intending it to be a wedding gift when they did leave, but he thought the boy needed it now rather than later. "It is not as good as I had hoped it would be, but a man should always get his first set of leathers from a friend." He grunts, holding it out to him. "It will protect you more than a mere coat if needed."

A friend. Briac nearly chokes on his reaction, managing to cover it with a cough that would only vaguely convince an alien. “They look very well,” he assures the older man, admiring the quality of the leather before finding Pero’s eyes again. “I will treasure them.”

Pero nods gruffly, motioning for him to let him help him into for the first time and adjust the leather laces running up the side. He feels a little watery eyed himself and coughs. "They will last if you care for them. Until you are broader and need more space."

“After that time, they will be saved for our son.” Briac’s voice is thick with gratitude, and he stands still as a statue while Pero fits the armor to him, beaming in Arwena’s direction the entire time. “Our children will bear your names.”

Pero’s eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t protest. It would be wrong to deny them the idea of naming a child after someone. Plus the idea of someone finding that much good in him makes him swallow back heavy emotions as he pulls the leather laces tight and knots them. “Keep your cloak over the armor, it will prevent idiots from challenging you when they are in their cups.”

"As you say." The younger man nods, inspecting his new armor carefully with Arwena as the two of them bow their heads by the fire.

At your worktable you are essentially preparing a meat and vegetable hash in the one wide skillet you have - cleaned and small cut root vegetables along with small cut pieces of bear meat from the animal that Pero took down two weeks ago. It was monstrous and a grueling job to clean and dress, but it means that you will have plenty of meat to travel with as you go north. The damn thing had to have been two or three hundred pounds with all its fur, bones, and fat in place.

Pero grunts as he makes his way over to you. “I wish I had dried that meat.” He huffs. “We could carry twice as much.”

“We could not have known.” You shake your head as you cut and add things to the pan. “I was planning on turning all our flour to hard biscuits before the journey but that time is past now.” There were some otherwise useful supplies that would have to be left, but there is nothing to be done about it now.

“I know, the safety of the girl is more important than meat.” He does lament the half cask of wine, but he looks at it like you will leave the cabin well stocked for some pour soul ego needs shelter. “We will leave the fire burning, make them think you are still here.”

"If there is any grace in the world, it will start snowing four yards in back of us as we ride and cover our tracks." Of course that would be far too much to ask, but it doesn't stop you from dreaming.

“To bad we don’t have enough time to fix boughs to the cart behind the horses.” Pero smirks. “It would brush away the tracks.”

"Do you have time to do that while I cook?" You ask, tilting your head at him slightly. "This will take a little time, but not too long. If Briac and Arwena help, can it be done?"

Pero frowns and thinks about it. “We can build basic litters and faster boughs to them.” He thinks out loud. “There should be enough rope for it.”

"Gather your helping hands, then. And I will make us one last meal under this roof." Judging from how dark it is outside, it's still the deepest part of the late night and the group of you will have a few hours' head start before the magistrate and his minions come after you. If boughs attached to the horses works, it will buy you even more time before he picks up your trail.

“Arwena, make the light for us to work.” Pero orders her softly, aware that she still shy about using her powers around anyone other than you. He doesn’t want the girl scared to use her gifts around him or her soulmate.

Arwena’s eyes widen for a split second before you nod to her, and her expression turns to resolve. “Aye,” she murmurs, following the men back outside.

Pero takes his axe with him, explaining the simple litters that the horses would drag behind them and the boughs would wipe the trail clean. It is perfect, and you would not have to travel out of the way with that in place, allowing your group to get farther away from Arwena’s father.

You’ve never been more grateful than you are tonight for being a half mile walk away from the village, because it means that no one will hear the working and conversation going on outside tonight. No one will smell the meal being cooked at such an odd hour. And most importantly, no one will see the floating ball of light kept aloft by Arwena’s mind alone.

They work quickly, Pero impressed with the way that Arwena and Briac seem to have already developed their own language towards each other. Pats, grunts and looks communicating just as reliably as opening their mouths and talking. He smirks and shakes his head, working on his own litter to prepare for the journey.

“Will this truly work?” Arwena asks quietly, watching the careful way that Briac and Pero rig the boughs to the horses to effectively dust away their trail as they ride.

“It will not be perfect, but it should help.” Pero tells her. It won’t brush away all signs but hopefully the hard packed snow will be covered in fresh powder like it has been around the cabin.

“We will be harder to track, but not impossible.” Briac places a soft kiss on her brow. “We will keep you safe, love. Upon my honour.”

Arwena chews her lip and decides that she needs to be completely honest with them if they are going to do this. Especially Briac, he is leaving his parents for the first time since he was born. “My father will kill you if we are caught.” She whispers. “His—he will be ruthless.”

Pero’s smile is grim, chilling in its lack of warmth and edged with anticipation. “He has not met me, niña. There are things I can - and plan to do to the man if we cross paths.”

“For what he has done to Sassenach, to my mother, and to my sister and me, he will deserve it.” Arwena shakes her head sadly. For all that was done to the women she loves, she cannot imagine what terrors her own father has visited upon other women that she never knew about.

Pero pauses, reaching out and touching Arwena’s shoulder. “You are better than he is. He uses fear because he cannot love anyone but himself.”

“I know.” She nods, placing her hand softly over his to return the emotion of the gesture. The sentimentality. “But knowing one’s own father is a demon does not make him easier to slay.”

“I can understand that.” Pero sighs. “Maybe we will be lucky and he will not give chase.”

“There are not enough lucky stars in all the world for that to be the case.” Arwena admits with a shake of her head. “I only pray that we outrun him.”

“We will.” Pero tells her with a confidence he doesn’t exactly feel. “He has not travelled from his little kingdom of his for a long time. It is different on the road.”

"I pray it is enough." There is no hesitation in the movement when she goes to embrace him, putting her arms around his waist and giving him and earnest squeeze. "I have called your soulmate 'sister' for some weeks now, but truly you have been better family to me than my own in every way."

Pero huffs, hating that he has been better to her than her own father. He pays her shoulder again, with a bit more affection. “You are a good girl. You remind me of her.” He tells Arwena, meaning she reminds him of you.

“High praise,” she hums happily before letting him go. “But come. We should eat and be on our way.”

Pero follows the kids into the cottage, he still views them as kids because they are so young and still hasn’t let life dim their optimism. “We are as ready as we can be, amor.” He grunts as he closes the door an bars it for good measure.

“Then we should eat.” Pulling the pan - the one you will leave behind - from the fire, you offer the group of them what you hope is a reassuring smile. “Drink what you will of the wine while we eat, it will also keep us warm.” It’s not strong enough to get anyone drunk if you have a cup or two while you eat, but it’s better than drinking dirty melted snow at the moment. There will be plenty of melted snow for hydration along the way.

Pero walks over to bring the small cask to the table and smiles at you. “You will miss the wine, will you not? Your baths and wine were important to you.”

"There will be baths and wine wherever we settle next." The last thing you want is for Arwena to think that she is less important than small luxuries, because that just isn't the case. Conversations have happened behind closed doors - so to speak - between you and Pero about him eventually bringing you to the Stones when a journey north was had. But really? The longer you spend with him, it has stopped mattering what time you live in. Home is with Pero, whenever that is. You've spent less time thinking about returning to the twenty-first century in the last few weeks and more time just thinking about being with him.

Pero nods and pours everyone a very generous cup of wine to go with the meal that you’ve prepared. “Eat, then we will make sure that we are ready to leave.” He promises, eager to get on the road and as far away as possible.

“How many days ride is it to Alba?” Arwena asks softly, settling herself beside Briac at the worktable to share the large pot of stewed vegetables and meat with the portion of bread you hand her. The remains of yesterday’s baking is particularly helpful tonight.

“Two weeks hard riding.” Pero frowns slightly as he tears apart his piece of bread. “More like three weeks if we can save the horses.”

“We will make shelter as we travel, have fire to keep out the chill, and make do with what food we can find along the way to supplement what we carry.” Planning will be essential to make your food stretch, but Briac has taken to Pero’s trapping and hunting lessons quickly so you know food will not be impossible to find. “Binx is a fine look out. She will stay awake through the nights so that we do not have to sacrifice rest to stay safe.”

“The gato will be good.” Pero would never say otherwise, watching your cat care for you around the cottage. There were times that he knows the cat would kill him if he ever hurt you.

“She will make sure we are safe.” You know that to be true as much as you know that you will make sure the younger couple is safe. Binx is an extension of your magic - and as such, and extension of yourself.

After the food is divided up, everyone starts to eat in earnest. Pero feeding bits of meat to Binx, who has jumped up into the table and sat between the two of you. Feeding the cat had become a habit of his, one that you had scolded him for but hadn’t stopped.

The last morsels of supper are eaten in relative silence as nerves and tension start to grow between the four of you. There is a lot of uncertainty to come and nothing to do just run headfirst into the challenge. Everything is about to change - and while for you and Pero the trials of travel are familiar, Briac and Arwena are on the brink of a brave new chapter in their lives. It will not be easy, but at least they will not have to breach the path alone.

Pero stands up and huffs, looking around the cozy cottage one last time. “It is time.” He announces, reaching out and pulling you close to him. “Say goodbye to your home, Sassenach.”

It’s sentimental, but you can’t help shaking your head at him. “Don’t be silly,” you insist, leaving the barest brush of a kiss on his cheek and smiling as encouragingly as you can. “I am taking you with me.”

Swallowing, Pero leans in and kisses you fiercely, possessively and with every ounce of the love he has for you. “And I will have to be dragged from your side.” He vows roughly when he comes up for air.

“Then this is only a house.” With both arms wrapped around his center, the cut of his armor bites into your soft clothing, but you don’t care. “Home is wherever you are, amor.”

His eyes are serious as they meet yours. “The good thing about sharing a horse for now is that I get to protect you easily.”

“I know you will.” While you could also make a joke that it will be easy for him to feel you up as you ride together, the moment is too serious for such a thing. The danger too real. “I have no doubt of you, Pero Tovar.”

______

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violettelueur · 3 years

Text

RYŌMEN SUKUNA || BONDED FOREVER

| featuring : ryōmen sukuna ft. itadori yuji and fushiguro megumi from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar errors and some graphic/violent actions

| form : imagine

| word count : 1749

| published : 03 december

| request : Can I a request a imagine where it’s super fluffy for Sukuna? I was wondering it can have a story of how he had a wife and she had reincarnated into someone who’s a powerful sorcerer? But she’s the soulmate for Sukuna..does this make sense at all? I hope you know what I mean😭😭

| barista’s notes : hey hey hey guys~ sorry for the really sort upfates, i’ve been having som difficulties writing some of these imagines due to a lack of ideas and writer’s block ʕ ᵒ ᴥ ᵒʔ but i hope you all had a good day today ʕ≧ᴥ≦ʔ but for me, other than coming home at around 5pm in the dark winter night, i had a decent day ʕ – ᴥ – ʔ also i don't think i answered this request properly, so i really do apologies ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ other than that, i hope you enjoy you cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and please come back soon!

The sweet aroma invaded your sense of smell, as you blissfully admired the array of flower petals that surround you in the warm water that you were sitting in right now. Gently, you glided your hand across the water, watching the petals also softly move with the direction of the current causing some of them to stick to your hand like a tattoo. However, before you could even move your hand again to keep you somewhat entertained, you felt an unexpectanted grip on your wrist, only for the same hand to be pulled up as the person behind you placed a kiss within your inner palm causing you to turn around to see what your husband was intending to do.

The man behind you, who still has his lips on your palm, opened his eyes to showcase his charming scarlet eyes as he looked down upon you only for him to smile softly at you - a rare smile that he only reserved for you and you only. Smiling softly back to him, you took the opportunity to caress his cheek as you admired the black markings that were permanently painting on his skin.

To him, at this current moment in time, you were at your most beautiful state as the water glistened beautifully on your bare skin with some of the petals stuck on to you, making you look like a painting made by the greatest artist with your hair stuck upon your neck due to it being soaked with the water that you and him were in right now.

“What’s going on in that little mind of yours?” Sukuna quietly asked as he leaned forward to place a heavy kiss upon your lips, leaving you no room to answer his question as you were so concentrated on the euphoric feeling to which then you felt his arms slowly wrap around your small figure, entrapping you in his embrace, leaving you no choice but to completely turn your body to face him as you then placed your leg on either side of him causing some of the water to overflow over the wooden bath, but that left no concern for you or the King of Curses.

“Nothing,” you answered him with a heavy breath once your both pulled apart, but still this little thought of yours was still plaguing your mind. “Don’t lie to me little one, you know better than not to lie to me ever,” Sukuna muttered, as his hand snaked from tracing your collarbone to having a light hold on your neck. However, it wasn’t the usual hold he would have against his opponent where his grip would tighten to disturb the airflow leading to the suffocation the unfortunate victim but rather a comforting gesture as his thumb moved up and down, expressing to you that you were able to open up to him about anything that was troubling your mind.

“When I pass, I came to the realisation that it won’t bother you at all,” you admitted to him with a soft smile, as you run your hand through his dampened hair. Although, the curse himself, exhibited the opposite reaction to what you were expressing right now making him wonder what caused you to question your importance to him.

“Little one, when you state that absurd comment, it does nothing but infuriate me,” Sukuna voiced out to you as he leaned forward towards you - to the point where you were chest to chest - before leaving a few kisses upon your jawline. “When you pass, I will have no idea how to control myself. I may be sadistic in nature but you have calmed me down to extreme lengths that sometimes I am scared to admit. When you pass, I have nothing left to hold, no other person can take your place. Ever.” Sukuna expressed to you as he then leaned back to look at you in the eye, only to see your surprised express to his admission, “don’t ever, let that ridiculous idea come to plague your mind again Y/N, you are mine for eternity as I am yours, there is no escape from it, we are bonded forever,”.

“Forever ha?” you repeated him in a light breath, only for him to pull you into another heated kiss as his hands began to wonder around your body as if he was tracing everything to memory. Your body, your heart and your soul was entirely bonded to him as the same goes for him to you. As he said, there was no escape from it.

ꕥ

“Sorry, but he’s not coming back”

Stood frozen, you didn’t have the strength to look back on who was behind you nor did you want to lose sight of Fushiguro, knowing out of the both of you, he was in the most danger.

“Don’t be so frightened, I’m in a good mood right now, since I get to physically see you again Y/N, so let’s chat for a bit” Sukuna cunningly commented, causing you to widen your eyes while the cold sweat behind your back began to intensify, fearful on what the King of Curses intended for you.

‘I need to quickly get Fushiguro to a safe place….but how? Damn it! How?’

However, before you could even move, the King of Curses decided that he would move for you to present himself to both of yours and Fushiguro’s view. “This is what he gets for trying to use me without any kind of pact, feels like he’s having some trouble switching back,” Sukuna stated as if he was explaining on why Itadori couldn’t gain control even after showcasing back in Sendai that he could.

“Still, though it’s a matter of time,” Sukuna continued to talk as he casually ripped off the top of Itadori’s uniform, showcasing the black markings on his body. On the other hand, what happened next caused you and Fushiguro to widen your eyes in terror as Sukuna suddenly viciously stabbed himself in the chest with his hand before slowly taking out the beating heart that was inhibiting Itadori’s body.

“I’m taking this brat hostage”

Finally having the guts to move your body, using the extremely little gap of time you had, you swiftly grabbed onto Fushiguro’s sleeve before speedily using your curse energy to form a protective sphere around his body leaving you alone in the open to any attacks the special grade curse could use on you now.

“Y/N!” Fushiguro shouted while beginning to violently bang his arms on the orb that you had manifested around him, trying to obtain a crack or a weak spot to let him out. “What are you doing you, idiot?!” Fushiguro then questioned you in a state of panic, trying to gain some understanding of what you were planning. However, you didn’t answer.

“Your goodwill stayed with you even after 1000 years, there’s nothing more than I expected from my little one, though I am frustrated at the fact that it isn’t reserved for me”

Still somewhat fearful but now confused, you quickly used your curse energy to construct a black katana out of thin air, before raising up to point the tip to Sukuna’s neck. “Oh?” Sukuna expressed before smiling at you with such pride expressed on his face, “it’s been such a long time since you have threatened me like that Y/N, you were powerful in words back then but now you gained powers of a sorcerer, what a magnificent discovery,”.

‘What can I do? I have a limit of summoning 20 weapons at the same time but is that even enough to even get a single scratch on him?’

“Do you not remember me? Little one, you look as beautiful as you did that night, your hair wet from the rain and your skin still beautiful glistens then the water hits your face” Sukuna playfully commented, as he took a step closer to you causing you to take one step back.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you finally spoke to the man in front of you, only for him to smirk even wider. However, before he could even get another single word in, you immediately summoned another 19 weapons - maximizing your limit - from spear, swords and axes behind him, only for all of then to immediately come down with a powerful strike causing a large explosion to erupt as dust from the ground suddenly flared up, blinded your view as well as Fushiguro’s causing his anxiety to heighten on what was going on and where you were.

“You always somehow impressed me, little one. There is never a day where I am disappointed,” a deep voice commented, causing you to widen your eyes once you saw Sukuna standing right in front of you with an uncharacteristic soft smile on his face - leaving you in an extreme state of confusion once a blurred image of a man smiling at you slowly constructed in your mind.

“Why?” you question yourself in a perplexed tone.

‘How?’

“Why do I suddenly feel like I've seen you smile at me like that before?” you quietly questioned, still engulfed in the dusty smoke that was surrounding the both of you. Slowly and gently gripping on to the wrist on your other hand, Sukuna slowly raised it up before placing a small kiss within the palm of your hands causing an almost unnoticeable tiny electric current to travel up your arm to the kissed palm - as if it was something that your body suddenly remembered.

“We are bonded forever, remember that little one” Sukuna declared to you in a softer tone than he had expressed earlier before the black markings slowly started to fade indicating to you that Itadori was steadily coming back, causing you to drop your katana and open your arms once you felt his heavy body fall upon yours.

“Itadori?” you quietly called, still hoping that he was alive somehow even without the use of the vital organ that was now out of his body.

“Y/N?” Itadori called out to you just in time as the dust around you began to fade, “I’m almost done for, but I guess I don’t have to worry you, Fushiguro, Kugisaki and Gojo-sensei anymore, live a long life,”, but before you could even get a single sound in to tell him that he was going to be okay, you felt his body slowly go limp indicating to you that he was now gone.

“Bonded forever?”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jjk ryomen sukuna #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna imagines #itadori yuji #itadori yujii #jjk itadori #fushiguro megumi #jjk fushiguro

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bluebananabowtie · 4 years

Text

blue suns and grey lagoons

klance soulmate au that I’ll probably never write, but I can’t stop thinking about

(also found here on the tweet)

Lance sees the world in black & white until one day when he’s at the Garrison and walking to one of his classes when a fight break out. it’s between James and Keith, the two most infamous students. of course, Lance has seen Keith around but they’ve never been this close before.

Lance is mesmerized because even though he can’t see color, even he can see just how pretty Keith is. he’s so distracted, he doesn’t see how James grabs Keith’s shirt and just flings him, screaming something that Lance doesn’t hear because Keith is right about to crash into him.

in slow motion, his eyes lock onto Lance’s, widening in his own realization, and purple becomes the first color Lance sees. he sit up quickly, taking in the colors of the boy groaning in his lap. black hair, white skin purple eyes.

(of course, all those names he learns later.)

but then the most horrible thing happens.

Keith pushes himself off, mutters an apology that sounded more robotic than honest, and twirls around to face James again.

he—?! didn’t he see the colors?? didn’t he see Lance??

Lance continues watching the fight, feeling like everything around him was underwater. he’d seen in black & white his whole life, but the world never seemed so gray.

eventually one of the older students, Shiro, he thinks, breaks off the fight. Keith is veered in one direction while James goes in another.

Lance stays on the floor.

a few minutes Later, Hunk enters his sight, fretting bc apparently Lance is bleeding? must’ve been from when Keith crashed into him.

Keith.

Lance met his soulmate, but he wasn’t Keith’s soulmate...

he’s only 13, not supposed to deal with this stuff. he went from admiring Keith, looking up to him and his scores, to hating him and wanting to be better than him.

he never is.

flash forward to when he and everyone are in space. Hunk knows he met his soulmate because who else would help Lance learn all the names of the colors? Lance never did tell Hunk who it was though.

one day, he and Shiro are on a mission that’s supposed to be easy. they’re just supposed to explore this uncatalogued planet. all Lance is grateful for is that it wasn’t Keith who drew the other short stick.

still, even though Shiro had been his childhood hero, he wished he’d been out here with Hunk. then, it wouldn’t have been as awkward to have been ambushed by a group of aliens who apparently had the ability to turn their prey into the child version of themself.

“don’t worry, we’re going to get out of here and you’ll be fixed good as new in no time” Shiro assures, carrying 6 year old Lance in his arms as he rushes to find cover.

Lance had forgotten how dreary seeing things in black and white was.

they manage to loose the aliens, but they also get horribly lost themselves.

Shiro tries to call up the rest of the team via his helmet, but there’s nothing but static.

“you okay?” he asks, plopping down beside Lance.

Lance just shrugs, picking at the grass by his feet. his armor didn’t shrink with him, of course, so he’s awkwardly swaddled in the black tank top he’d thankfully worn under his flight suit.

“I think our lions are this way,” Shiro says, pointing across the river.

Lance shrugs again. all he can think about his how he’s going to see Keith and get that burst of color and have his heart break all over again.

Shiro picks him up and wades across the river. after a while, when they’re stomachs growl, he puts him down.

“Coran said the green berries we can eat, but the red are poisonous” he reminds

Lance nods, pretending he knew which berries were red and which were green. he intended to just follow Shiro, picking and eating off the same bush he did.

it would’ve worked...if the red and green berries weren’t on the same bushes...

“Lance, no!” Shiro gasps, swatting out one of the berries from his hands. “that was red! didn’t you see?”

“oh, uh...sorry?”

“sorry!?”

Lance seriously does not want to listen to one of Shiro’s lectures...but he wants to tell the truth even less. so he listens, then once it‘s over, he goes and sits down next to his pile of armor he can’t fit into.

his stomach growls.

after a few minutes, Shiro comes and sits beside him, holding out some berries.

“hey”

Lance doesn’t respond

“I heard your stomach growling,” he tries again.

Lance shrugs. then his stomach growls, the traitor.

“want some?”

Lance really wants to say no, but he’s so fucking hungry and in his 6 year old body and he is not looking forward to watching the world burst into color again, so he just silent starts eating the berries out of Shiro’s hand. to his credit, he lets Lance do it.

finally, it‘s time to leave again.

“can you hand me my helmet?” Shiro asks, as he picks up Lance’s flight suit and armor to attach it to his back.

hesitantly, Lance picks up what he thinks is black. it’s super dark. it has to be black, right?

Shiro’s jaw drops.

“Lance,” he says slowly. “That’s your helmet”

Lance closes his eyes and sighs. of course, it‘s his helmet. of course.

“well, fuck,” his tiny 6 year old voice says. and then, reluctantly, he explains.

“shit, how are you going to see in color without seeing your soulmate?” Shiro mutters frantically, running a hand through his hair. “maybe Coran can...?”

“it’ll be fine,” Lance assures. but then, as Shiro continues to panic, he‘s forced to explain everything.

Shiro definitely does not believe him. not until they’re back on the castle ship. Lance is still in Shiro’s arms when Keith, Hunk, and Pidge wonder in. they all freeze as they see at 6 year old Lance. Shiro freezes as he sees Lance’s eyes flash and then a tear falls down his cheek.

when he turns, he sees, yep, Keith, who’s brow is furrowing because he also saw that flash, but he shakes it off, thinking it’s a trick of the light.

eventually, Lance is back to being 17. he slinks off to his room, saying he’s exhausted, which is probably true, but Shiro knew there was more to it then that.

without Lance, everyone starts to disperse.

“hey, Keith?” Shiro calls out.

Keith stops.

they’re the only ones in the room.

“Keith, can I...” he struggles with how to word it. “can I ask what your soul link is?”

Keith frowns. soul links are very private matters; usually only one’s family knows how each one will meet their soulmate. some can write to each other, others have timers, some even sing at the same time. each soul link is different to some degree.

“I...I can see their dreams,” he finally says.

“Who’s dreams do you see?”

Keith frowns. “that’s really private, Shiro.”

he knows, but he still presses: “do you know who’s dreams you’re seeing?”

“I—I’m not having this conversation,” he grits out.

Shiro frowns, but drops it. for now.

it’s rare, but some soulmates have different links. some can see the other’s scrapes and bruises on their bodies with other have first words. some can dream walk while others see in color.

it’s rare, but it’s not as rare once alien blood gets involved.

see, all galra meet their soulmate through dreams, even those that aren’t full bloodied.

Keith learns this during his time with the Blade, but he doesn’t realize all the implications of it until he’s back with his Voltron family, after having spent two years in the Quantum Abyss with his mother.

Lance doesn’t look at him and he can’t figure out why. sure, he’ll look his direction, but he won’t look Keith in the eye. when he has to talk to him, Lance stares at a spot behind Keith’s head and pretends nothing is amiss.

it frustrates Keith to no end. he thought they’d been over that stupid rivalry! though he and Lance were friends now...

one day he gets to his breaking point.

“fucking hell, Lance, my eyes are right here!” he growls, crowding Lance’s space.

Lance squeezes his eyes shut.

“what is it?” he asks. “what the hell did I do, huh? why can’t you look at me?!”

and yes, he’s taking this way too seriously. but he’s been walking in Lance’s dreams ever since he could remember. he knows there‘s something wrong—Lance rarely sleeps nowadays and when he does he‘s plagued with nightmares.

he might not be Lance’s soulmate, but Lance is his, and he doesn’t know if he can survive with Lance hating him.

“it’s fine,” Lance squeaks out, eyes still shut.

“it’s clearly not fine,” Keith counters. when he doesn’t get a response, he bangs his fist against the wall, beside Lance’s head.

it does what he wanted it too: Lance’s eyes open wide, a gasp escaping his lips, and when his eyes lock onto Keith’s his blue eyes flash even bluer.

Keith’s seen this before. when Lance had been turned into a child, but he’d dismissed the flare for his imagination. there’s no dismissing this.

Lance pushes him away, trying to escape, but Keith grabs his wrist and doesn’t let go.

“what was that?” he asks, voice much softer.

“doesn’t fucking matter,” Lance bites back, but it’s not harsh.

it’s not harsh because his voice cracks and Keith can see the tears in his eyes.

“Lance,” he starts.

“just drop it, Keith!” he shouts. “it doesn’t concern you”

except...

“I think it does,” he says, his mind starting to click the puzzle pieces into place.

and that’s how they realize just who they are to each other. there, in that hallway, they laugh until they cry and cry until they sob and sob until there’s nothing left to do but hold each other and lay on the floor.

“you died,” Keith whispers, gently brushing Lance’s hair out of his eyes.

“I’m here now,” he assures, gripping Keith’s waist. “I’m alive. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m not going anywhere either.”

And there, on the floor, their eyes red and cheeks tear-streaked, they finally have their first kiss.

/fin

#klance au #klance soulmate au #klance ficlet #soulmate au #angst with a happy ending #klance #voltron #voltron au #my writing #my posts #ficlet #lance (voltron)#keith (voltron)

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hungline · 5 years

Text

let’s give it our all | ch 1

pairing: yoonjin genre: fluff, angst, uni au, soulmates au, rated m warnings: implied past child abuse, bruises words: 3765

summary: Dread fills Seokjin as he continues to watch the video, only daring to speak once Namjoon's screen has gone dark. "Did I confess to Yoongi last night?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if you did, considering how drunk you were," Namjoon responds, laughing at the elder when his face pales.

Seokjin lets his face drop into his hands and groans, beginning to shake all over. "Oh, my god."

⇢ chapter one of let’s give it our all

The problem with having the same marks show up on both soulmates' skin is the fact that "marks" ranges from a wide number of things.

Doodles, cuts, tattoos, and even hickeys. But Seokjin thinks the worst mark of all that both soulmates must share are the bruises.

He has spent a better part of his childhood worrying over his soulmate and the wide arrange of bruises that would paint his skin more often than not. They raised a lot of questions from his teachers and Seokjin always had to carefully explain that the marks weren't his.

He would receive a pitying look and a surge of helplessness would wash over him each and every time, but that had never really stopped him.

Lilac, blue, yellow, and once even the darkest purple Seokjin has ever seen have all littered his body at some point, either because of his own carelessness or because of his soulmate. Seokjin has not always been that great at distinguishing between the two options, but there are some mornings where Seokjin would wake up and find patches of his skin throbbing with phantom pain.

He always wore turtlenecks and jeans on those days.

Seokjin could guess what was going on. All the bruises and cuts and weird smudges all hinted at something he found too terrible to put into words. He didn't want to think about what his soulmate might be going through so he tried his best to not add on to the burden. Seokjin rarely got bruises that were his own and after he found out hickeys too were something that soulmates shared on their skin, he gave that part of his life up.

It's not as if he was missing anything though — apart from his literal other half, the person who sprang from the same bit of stardust as him, the person who would fill in all of Seokjin's cracks and edges in whatever way they possibly could. When two halves met and came together, a whole was created and Seokjin found that was more important to him than the occasional makeout session here and there. He didn't miss the disappointing one night stands and the too awkward first dates that never led anywhere. He knew he'd meet his soulmate sooner or later and then he'd be complete, no longer missing the last puzzle piece of his life.

Of all the things he imagined though, he never expected to meet his soulmate because he got punched in the face.

"Just hold that up now. Keep your face tilted up and the swelling should go down soon."

Seokjin does what the university's nurse tells him to, grumbling to himself about how his perfect face is now ruined.

Of course, Namjoon just had to accidentally punch him in the face the one time they decide to let loose and get a little tipsy in Seokjin's apartment.

Okay, he can admit that Namjoon did not intentionally mean to punch him, but it still happened! It happened and now Seokjin's pretty face is ruined. And that is what really counts, especially when it comes to his hobby as a model.

Seokjin sighs under his breath as the nurse leads him out into her small waiting room, sitting him down on a chair as if a punch to his face now suddenly made him blind. He sighs without restriction once she has disappeared back into her office and waits, pressing the ice pack firmly down onto his cheek.

The bruise that he had woken up to that morning really wasn't that bad — not as bad compared to what he is accustomed to thanks to his soulmate anyway — but the swelling was another matter altogether. He had rushed past a still passed-out Namjoon on his living room couch and ran all the way to campus, pulling his black cap low on his face to avoid recognition from anyone who might know him. The distance he had to run thankfully had not been very far since his apartment was close to the main campus and no one ever came by the nurse's office. So it had been the logical choice for Seokjin to run here instead of searching his symptoms up on the internet and wasting two hours pouring over fake articles about skin diseases and freaking himself out over a simple bruise.

Which is why he is entirely unprepared for the door of the waiting room to bang open and let a short, intimidating guy inside whose expression is twisted into one of panic.

They both pause to study each other; for Seokjin out of curiosity and for the newcomer, interest, maybe? Seokjin doesn't very well know. All he does know is that this man has catlike eyes and mint green hair, is wearing a leather jacket over a bright yellow shirt with Doc Martens to match, and has a swollen bruise on his cheek in the exact same place as Seokjin.

A number of things click into place for Seokjin as the nurse opens her office door to see what the commotion is all about.

One, this guy is his soulmate because there is no denying the feeling of a star imploding as his soulmate's aura fills up the entire room and how Seokjin's breath quickens in his chest, catching in his throat before finally making its way out then beginning the process all over again.

Two, Seokjin's chances with him are probably pretty low since he does not appear to be the type to go after pretty boys like Seokjin. But Seokjin does not know that for certain and for the moment, he pushes that thought away to focus on the now.

Three, his soulmate actually looks calm now that he is face-to-face with Seokjin. Seokjin is busy having vivid flashbacks to when he was a fourteen-year-old kid, clutching his shoulders as he cried while he forced himself to not look into the mirror and see his back riddled with bruises of varying degrees and sizes so he understands the panic his soulmate probably felt just now. However, when it comes to sympathy, Seokjin finds he does not have as much of it as he should.

"Did you need an ice pack too?" The nurse asks.

Seokjin's soulmate shakes his head, not daring to rip his gaze away from Seokjin's. "I came to check on him."

Seokjin blinks at the sound of his voice, never once in a million years expecting a voice as deep as his to have come out of someone who fits the pastel grunge aesthetic down to a T. Guess he really shouldn't make assumptions so soon when he doesn't even know why exactly his soulmate is here yet.

The nurse peers at him with a bit of distrust. "Why? Did you two fight and give each other those bruises?"

Seokjin almost laughs at her question, but before he even gets the chance to open his mouth, his soulmate is already answering again. "No. He's my soulmate."

The nurse looks between them, disparaging the tense atmosphere and comes to a realization quickly. She nods her head and darts back into her office within record time. "Well, carry on then."

Before she can shut the door on them though, Seokjin stands up and shoves the ice pack at her. "I'll ice it again when I get home."

"Very well," the nurse replies, taking the ice pack gingerly from his hands and then shutting her door in his face.

Seokjin sighs and adjusts his black cap as much as he can without a mirror and turns back to face his soulmate, holding his elbow out for him to take. "We have a lot to discuss, so shall we?"

His soulmate frowns but takes hold of Seokjin's elbow anyway, following him out of the nurse's office and back out into the fresh, open air of the university's main campus.

Seokjin can already tell that his soulmate is someone with little patience.

His grip on Seokjin’s elbow is tight, something that does not pass by Seokjin’s radar. He is shorter than Seokjin, true. Smaller as well, but now that they are walking side-by-side, it is hard for Seokjin to find him intimidating anymore.

A few people stare at them as they walk past on campus because they would be able to recognize his shoulders anywhere what with most of them sharing a class with Seokjin. He has no clue what any of them are thinking, considering that he has never shown interest in anyone before, but he keeps his head down. Seokjin does not want anyone to see this ugly bruise on his face right now.

“Where are we going?” his soulmate speaks up, his gruff voice still shocking Seokjin somehow.

“My place,” Seokjin responds, barely sparing him a glace as they pass the main part of campus, now approaching the street where Seokjin intends to cross and make his way back to his apartment. “If that’s alright with you?”

His soulmate shrugs, eyes quickly darting away when Seokjin tries to meet his eye again. “As long as you’re not planning to kill me or something, it’s fine.”

Despite the dry humor and the sarcastic tone of voice, Seokjin still finds himself laughing, “You’ve figured out my evil plot. Now my plan is ruined!”

His soulmate rolls his eyes but smiles, his teeth still hidden behind his lips as Seokjin pulls them to a stop at the curb. Seokjin does not comment on this and instead checks both sides of the street for any oncoming cars before he quickly leads them across the blacktop, his soulmate still clutching tightly onto his arm.

“Hey, what’s your name anyway? I can’t really just keep calling you ‘my soulmate’ in my head,” Seokjin pipes up once they have reached the front entrance of his apartment complex. “My name is Kim Seokjin, so what’s yours?”

“I know what your name is,” his soulmate says, making Seokjin still with shock for a short moment before he remembers that most of the student body knows or has heard of him in his four years of university. “I’m Min Yoongi. We have Economics together.”

Seokjin groans as they cross the open courtyard no one usually spends time in, pulling Yoongi a little closer so they can climb the stairs side-by-side. “I have a theory that our professor has never smiled because, if he did, the vampires would take over. He’s our last line of defense.”

Yoongi guffaws loudly before Seokjin has even finished speaking, his top teeth just barely peeking past his small mouth, lips pulled up in a restrained smile. “I always knew there was something off about that man. How he didn’t laugh when someone replaced a slide on his presentation with a photo of salt bae last week, I will never know.”

Seokjin’s keys jingle as he digs them out of his pocket, laughing loudly as he unlocks his front door. “I hope it will please you to know that it was I who introduced salt bae into our lesson that day.”

“No way,” Yoongi chuckles, hand falling from where it had been gripping onto Seokjin’s elbow when Seokjin gestures for him to step inside. “I can already see why we’re soulmates.”

Seokjin steps in behind him, closing the door soon after, then slips his shoes off and puts on a pair of blue house slippers, smiling as Yoongi follows his example. He watches as his soulmate struggles to get his Docs off and then laughs to himself under his breath when Yoongi reluctantly replaces them with the only pair of house slippers Seokjin has left — pink ones with bunny ears that Jeongguk had given to him as a Christmas gift last year.

“Want anything to drink?” Seokjin asks as he takes his cap off and throws it onto an armchair, wondering where Namjoon has wandered off to since he is no longer asleep on the couch. “Breakfast, maybe?”

Yoongi shakes his head, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as they stand beside the couch. “I don’t want to impose.”

Seokjin only laughs, grabbing hold of Yoongi’s arm to drag him towards his kitchen. “Please, you wouldn’t. I haven’t had breakfast yet so you’re really just doing me a favor if you stay and eat. I don’t know where Namjoon is at and I always cook for more than one person. Unless you’re not hungry though, don’t feel pressured into eating breakfast with me right now.”

“I am hungry,” Yoongi relents after a short, tense moment has passed. “Are you sure it wouldn’t be a problem?”

“Not at all,” Seokjin waves his hand, already moving about the kitchen as he prepares to make breakfast, grabbing a bag of peas for his eye. “It would just be a waste of food if I tried to eat it all by myself.”

Deeper in the apartment, the toilet flushes loudly followed by muffled cursing and the bathroom sink being turned on soon after. It shuts off a minute later and the bathroom door opens while Seokjin is cracking eggs into a bowl, the stovetop heating up beside him. Namjoon pads into the kitchen where Yoongi is leaning against a wall watching Seokjin and Seokjin is busy making food, barely sparing the younger a glance when he pauses to stare at Yoongi.

“Joonie, would you please put on a shirt? Your attempts to seduce me are futile now. I’ve met my soulmate,” Seokjin jokes, jabbing a finger in Yoongi’s direction when Namjoon only raises his eyebrows at him in response. “Namjoon, Yoongi. Yoongi-ssi, this is Namjoon-ah.”

“Hello, are you really hyung’s soulmate?” Namjoon waves and smiles, walking further into the kitchen to open the fridge and rummage around in it. “It’s about time you two met, hyung needed someone to hold during the night.”

Seokjin reaches out and smacks his ass, returning to the food when Namjoon jumps and hits his head inside the refrigerator. “Shut up, Joon-ah. Go put on your shirt already, you’re gonna catch another cold and I won’t make you any soup when you do.”

“Liar. You’re not that heartless, hyung,” Namjoon shoots back, closing the fridge as he walks back into the living room and grabs his shirt hanging from the back of the couch, pulling it over his head quickly. “Yoongi-ssi, are you two same-age friends?”

Yoongi blinks at the younger as Seokjin pours the eggs into the frying pan and puts bread into the toaster, following all the normal motions of cooking. He is not that involved in the conversation at the moment, but he is listening anyway. He does not know what he is hoping to hear, but hopefully, it will be something interesting.

“Um, no,” Yoongi murmurs hesitantly, still leaning against the wall while Namjoon sprawls out on the couch. “I was born in ‘93, so Seokjin-ssi is older.”

“Oh, then he’s your hyung too!” Namjoon sits up, propping his chin on his hands as he smiles at Yoongi. “That makes you my hyung as well though. I was born in ‘94. Can I call you hyung?”

Yoongi chuckles as the toaster dings and Namjoon rises, walking into the kitchen to plate the toast and bring it back to the coffee table where empty beer cans and soju bottles are still littering its surface. Seokjin has finished with the eggs and is now frying bacon, continuing to only listen and not participate in the ongoing conversation.

“Sure, kid. You can call me hyung,” Yoongi replies a beat too late and even though Seokjin cannot see it, he knows that Namjoon is grinning.

Seokjin focuses on cooking then, not wanting to intrude now that the conversation is not about him anymore. The younger two start cleaning up the coffee table as Seokjin waits for the bacon to finish, handing the plate of eggs to Namjoon when he comes to collect it. They are talking about music when he turns the stove off and loads the rest of the bacon onto another plate, bringing it to the cleaner than usual coffee table. He places it beside the eggs and walks back into the kitchen to grab cutlery, smiling as he watches Namjoon grab cups and the jug of milk.

Although it is not much, Seokjin is happy that his best friend and soulmate are already getting along, both of them perched on the couch while Seokjin sits on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, eating quietly as the two talk. They are sharing between the three of them, more than enough food on all three plates for it to be possible and Seokjin is watching them. Yoongi is grinning, his gummy smile pleasing to Seokjin’s eyes and when he leans forward to pierce some food with his fork, his yellow shirt shifts with him to reveal a nice view of his chest. Seokjin averts his gaze when it only continues to happen and rolls his eyes at Namjoon’s quirked eyebrow in his direction.

He has only just met his soulmate, but already he can see him fitting into his life easily. He can see them cuddled up on the couch watching movies or spread across the floor with books scattered between them as they study. It would be more than easy to reach out and wipe at Yoongi’s mouth with his thumb, but Seokjin has only just met him and them being soulmates does not mean Yoongi will be okay with him touching him out of the blue and already trying to be intimate with him. Things like this take time, Seokjin knows that. Soulmate or not, what Seokjin wants will take time.

They finish eating quickly and Namjoon clears out after that, taking notice of Seokjin’s pointed glances immediately. Yoongi waves and smiles at him as he goes and then they both stare at each other across the coffee table once they are alone, unsure of what to say now.

Seokjin clears his throat and picks up the plates, taking them to the sink for something to do. He smiles when Yoongi follows after him with the cups and cutlery, picking up a dish towel as Seokjin starts to wash the dishes. They work in silence for a few moments, neither wanting to break the peaceful silence with the difficult questions laying heavy on their tongues. But Seokjin knows that the longer they put it off, the more time they will only avoid whatever they need to say and he does not want to start their relationship in this kind of way.

So he opens his mouth to speak, eyes trained on the cup he’s washing in his hands, but Yoongi’s voice interrupts him before he can even utter a single syllable. "Okay, so this giant bruise just randomly showed up on my face and my friends got worried so they sent me to the nurse's office and you were sitting there with an ice pack on your face. Did you get punched?"

“Yeah, by Namjoon,” Seokjin shrugs his shoulders, glancing briefly at Yoongi to gauge his reaction. “It was by accident since we did get a little drunk last night, but I model sometimes so this is going to cost me quite a lot of money.”

“Huh,” is Yoongi’s intelligent answer, followed shortly by, “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re still handsome.”

Seokjin smiles, feeling an unfamiliar heat rise to his cheeks. “Thanks, Yoongi-yah.”

Yoongi goes ramrod straight at the casual way of speaking, eyes flickering up to meet Seokjin’s gaze before looking away again with flaming cheeks as he continues to dry the dishes Seokjin hands him. “Yeah. Uh-huh.”

Another silence descends upon them, this time more awkward and heavier than before. Seokjin knows he should try and say what he was going to earlier, but now he is afraid. Or maybe not afraid exactly, but definitely nervous. Yoongi huffs out a breath beside him, turning when he has finished drying the last plate. Seokjin turns off the sink and leans his elbow on the counter, eyes on Yoongi — on his soulmate — the soulmate he has been worried about for most of his life.

“I know that we’re soulmates and all, but…” Yoongi begins, trailing off halfway through as his brow scrunches together in thought, leaving Seokjin a little breathless with nerves, “at this moment right now, I’m really not looking to being in a relationship.”

“Oh, I see,” Seokjin’s lips pop open, shock coloring his tone. He keeps the hurt in his chest under wraps though, not wanting his soulmate to see it and feel bad because it is not Yoongi’s fault that Seokjin let his mind run wild. “Well, thank you for your honesty at least. I—”

He hesitates, meeting Yoongi’s eyes and studying his face. His soulmate is almost a head shorter than him, but he looks strong even with the mirrored bruise on his cheek. His posture is relaxed, body language telling Seokjin that his soulmate is being vulnerable with him. And Seokjin doesn’t know why Yoongi does not want to be in a relationship at the moment, but he can respect that. His soulmate is being straightforward with him right now, wanting to make sure that they are both on the same page from the very beginning and Seokjin will respect that.

So what if Seokjin was really hoping to kiss Yoongi soon? That is not his call to make after all. It is Yoongi’s and he is making it very clear to Seokjin that he does not want any of that at the moment.

“I’m not looking for one either,” Seokjin says, the words leaving a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. “Let’s just try to be friends.”

He is not lying exactly when he says he is not looking for a relationship, but Seokjin is not telling the full, complete truth either. He has never been looking for any relationship, only the one relationship that he thought would be the most important one he would have in his life.

A relationship with his soulmate.

But Yoongi does not want that. Seokjin is not an asshole and this is his soulmate so he will respect his wishes. He smiles and uses those acting skills he gained from taking five years worth of acting classes as a teenager to make sure that his soulmate does not suspect a single thing.

Seokjin feels sick to his stomach when he realizes that Yoongi is believing him easily, smiling wide to reveal his gums as they exchange numbers in Seokjin’s kitchen, the promise of a friendship blossoming between their joined souls.

#yoonjin #hyunglinenetwork #jinseoknet #kwritersworldnet #kwordsmiths #btsguild #betareadernet #bts #fluff #angst #p:seokjin/yoongi #f:lgioa #m: fic

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sweetpxsin · 6 years

Text

Soulmate AU! ; Bang Chan

>> Genre: Soulmate AU! :: Fluff

>> Member: Bang Chan (Stray Kids)

>> A/N: None [ Request box open ] <Please I need help with writing ideas>

•Flower tattoos connected soulmates

•When they met both flowers will appear entwined on both of your wrist/forearm but will only intertwine when you make direct contact (look at moodboard for reference)

•And each person is born with a flower tattoo that resembles their soulmates personality

•Someone born with a Gardenia would have a soulmate with purity and sweetness and indicate a secret love but if your flower was to turn into a black rose that would indicate your soulmate was on the verge of death/ has passed

•You were born with an alstroemeria flower, also known as a Peruvian Lily

•This meant your soulmate was devoted, prosperous, able to withstand trails of everyday life, and was following his/her dreams and achieving their aspirations

•And if you were being honest it would have made you fall more for your soulmate if it hadn’t been for the fact you weren’t really in a rush to find your soul mate

•Sure some of your friends had already found theirs and would post about cute things they did together

•And although it did spark a small jealousy in you, you pursuing your own passions were more important to you than love

•That being said you became a trainee at the infamous company YG

•Not only were you a trainee you had helped compose some songs for some of the groups

•You could say your hands were pretty filled with school and trainee life along with the fact you would help at your parents cafe

•So you could literally say you had no time to worry

•On the flip side your soulmate was very similar in some ways but was way more infatuated with the idea of soulmates

•His tattoo was of a red carnation meaning deep love and admiration

•He would find himself tracing his finger over the small dainty flower on his wrist while he was trying to compose a song and would quietly smile to himself

•”Changbin-hyung… why is Chan smiling creepily like that again?”

•”I don’t know the old man is probably going insane from his lack of sleep.”

•”ExUsE mE bUT i cAN hEAr yOU, YoU LItTLE pRIcKS”

•”And?”

•Que eye twitch followed by a serious face

•AnYwAYs

•Sometimes he would write little songs about his soulmate and imagine cute things with you but never to the point it would interfere with his work

•Nevertheless you could say he was way more ecstatic than you

•One day while you were going to practice in one of the rooms you accidently bursted into the one were Stray Kids from JYP would have been practicing

•You had heard they would be doing the traditional JYP v YG but you never imagined or intended to accidentally burst in on them

•Your face progressively got hotter as all eyes landed on you out of surprise

•”I-I’m so sorry.” You bowed multiple times before leaving in a rush

•Although at the time you didn’t feel it Chan most certainly felt it

•As soon as his eyes had landed on you he pulled up his sleeve and was left with disappointment upon seeing that his flower remind alone

•Shaking his head he guessed it was just his imagination and proceed to practice and help ease the younger ones nervousness

•Once it came time to actually meet the YG trainees you were long gone from his mind knowing his chances of ever seeing or meeting you again were slim

•WElL tHiNK aGAiN cHAn I think I’m funny

•Everything was going smoothly with meeting the other trainees actually till YG had walked in late, dragging a smaller trainee with him

•The room was filled with hellos till JYP had caught a glimpse of you

•After a little explaining You were introduced as one of YG’s aces and was asked to stay as part of it considering you’d make a good unbiased opinion

•it was awkward as hell for you considering they were the group you had walked in on you sorta had a hard time evaluating them but still complimented them on their skills because come on they obviously had something going for them *cough* talent *cough*

•Afterwards you quickly bid goodbye and good luck to the trainees and Stray Kids shaking each of their hands politely

•All was normal till you had gotten to the leader of the group

•You’d be lying if you said he hadn’t already caught your eye the moment you saw him start to perform but you never thought it was because he was your soulmate

•So instead of shaking his hand you opted for giving him a small smile along with kind words not sure if you could take the “burden” of him being your soulmate

•Chan noticed and frowned a little as he watched you leave the overwhelming feeling of affection was too strong from him to not notice or even ignore

•”Jeonwoong who was that again.”

•”Why?”

•”They walked in on us practicing.”

•”Oh they’re (Full name)”

•With a smile he thanked the boy before slipping out of the room to try to find you

•It didn’t take him long considering there was only one room in the hallway that was blasting music super loudly

•Taking a deep breath he placed his hand on the door

•”Chan!”

•”Jesus christ Jisung!”

•”We’re leaving now let’s go”

•Just then the music cut off and Chan quickly grabbed Jisung and walked down the hall to exist the building

•”Hyung what were you doing.”

•”Nothing Jisung.”

•with a sigh he slumped into his seat trying to figure out how in the world was he ever going to see you again

•Sure you guys were soulmates but that didn’t mean you both were destined to met

•After all some people had their tattoos changed into a butterfly weed meaning “leave me” indicating their soulmate had fallen in love with someone else (Of course only appearing when the relationship was destined to stay ex. When their soulmate was to get married)

•Once they had made it back to the company Chan instantly walked to the practice room to wallow in his own misery

•With a sigh he opened up his laptop and took out a pencil and paper

•If he was going to be sad and mopey why not busy himself with creating a song

•And within a few hours Chan found himself staring at the clock that read the time of 2:34

•He could barely keep his eyes open but at the same time he didn’t have the heart to fall asleep

•Grabbing his laptop and things he walked out of the building and headed to the nearest cafe to continue his work

•Where were you?

•Well you were leaning over the cafe counter a book in hand as you waited for the next customer to appear from the busy streets of Seoul

•You look up when the door bells jingle and you instantly straighten up

•”Welcome to Brew and Bakery cafe.”

•When your eyes met the boy standing in front of you, you wanted nothing more than to pass out

•Lowering your head in a lame attempt to hide your face you waited for his order

•”Can I get uh…hot chocolate.”

•As a lowkey coffee connoisseur you lifted your head up in amusement totally forgetting your earlier dilemma

•”Really? I took you as an espresso kinda guy.”

•You joked as you punched in his order

•the fact that he laughed at your boring ass statement made your heart kinda flutter, you didn’t know if it was because you were tired or for the fact his laugh was just the cutest

•”I took you as knocking kinda person.”

•*cue fidgetiness*

•”Th-That wou-ld be *ahem* $2.95.”

•”Here keep the change.”

•You nodded and turned around to make his simple hot chocolate

•”So what makes me a expresso kinda guy?” He mused

•”You look like a sleep deprived dad.” You played along trying to lighten the atmosphere for yourself

•”I get that a lot.”

•With a smile you turn around and hand him his hot chocolate

•”Here’s your hot chocolate..”

•”Chan.” “Expresso man.” (Ya’ll taking in unison what cuties)

•He shot you a smile as he grabbed the cup his hand brushing against yours

•At the same time you both felt the overwhelming sense of affection and adoration again

•Taking a glance at your exposed wrist you noticed the intertwined flowers of peruvian lily and red carnation

•”I guess this means were soulmates.”

•”Y-Yeah.”

•”Mind if I treat you to some of my hot chocolate?”

•”I’m more of a (insert favorite drink) kinda person.”

•Shaking his head lightly he chuckles lightly

•Afterwards the both of you kinda bond with Chan explain about what he was doing up so late and you explain your thought process on the whole soulmates situation right now, in which Chan totally understands

•Thought Chan is totally up for the challenge of making you fall for him as much as he did when he laid eyes on you

•In order to do so he would often come late at night with a song of his asking for your advice or to just bond over coffee

•In all honesty the boy seriously knew how to make your heart flutter

•With his witty jokes, funny faces and determination to debut with his members as 9

•Not only that but you were a huge fan of his music as much as he was of your different coffees you would make for him

•But what brought ya’ll closer than anything else was music and it was the thing that brought you two officially together

•Chan had brought you to the company wanting to hangout at the practice room rather than at the cafe for one day

•Both of you sat in front of the small desk as he worked on his most recent piece

•Despite being in your own chair your legs were on his lap with your arms lazily holding on to his waist with your head resting on his chest

•Chan honestly thought it was the cutest thing ever tbh

•and when you start to mumble his rap parts with him he just could stop himself from smiling to himself

•like you were literally being so cute and he just had to steal a kiss

•he’d dip down and give your lips a quick peck to see how you’d react

•once he saw the light blush on your face and how quickly you hid your face in his chest he knew he had your heart just as much as you had his

•guys I’m melting this is so cute omg..wow did I just compliment my writing..#concededisme

•wow I just ruined the moment…well in my defense it was the end…okay I’ll shut up now I hope you enjoyed it sorry for it being so long (and for that I’ll give you small bonus)

•dates with Chan would literally be so late but so worth it because you always end up wrapped up in his arms

•the dates are either at yours or his company or at the cafe

• The boys call you composing koala couple

•they literally gush at the sight of both of you

•when it’s just the two of you relaxing Chan has the cutest habit of tracing the flowers that are entwined on your wrist and will occasionally kiss the tattoo because he’s literally so in love with you and the fact that both of you are together

•literally can’t stop saying how much he loves and highkey enjoys it when he catches you staring at him

•tells you to take of yourself and literally will ask you if you’ve eaten or rested well almost every day once a day

•and in return you give him words of encouragement/congratulations BeCauSE YOuR MAnZ IS tAlENtEd

•but overall both of you are just perfect for each others and love each other with every inch of your living being

#bang chan #chan stray kids #stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #chan scenarios #chan imagines #방찬 #스트레이 키즈 #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic #kpop scenarios #chan fanfic #bang chan imagine

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writingthingsisdifficult · 6 years

Text

The man in my dreams

This is a story of dreams, of heartbreak, and soulmates. Some fluff, some angst, a little bit of blood, a little bit language...

I worked hard on this, so please let me know what you think. I also have a tag list; so let me know if you want on it. Or if you want off it, I guess. There’s a few people I can’t tag anymore. Let me know if you’ve changed your url or something, yeah?

Edit: I don’t know what the weird symbols are, but they disappear when you click the read more. Also: yes there is a read more - but for some reason it doesn’t show up on mobile. Sorry.

Word count: 7107

He grips my foot tighter as he bandages the wound. It is just a small nick, but he seems uneasy, and I don’t want to upset him further, so I don’t move. “Tell me,” he says, and there’s an emotion I can’t interpret laced in his voice.

“W-what?”

“Your story. Tell me.” He waves his free hand, indicating for me to get on with it. “From the beginning.”

“Uh…” I clear my throat, and try to ignore the burn from the screaming. “M-my first memory is…” This is harder than I thought it would be. I’ve always had dreams and aspirations, but it’s not to die by the hands of some nutter who gets off on people’s sob stories. Of course I’m not my usual top self.

Growling, he gathers a fistful of my hair and yanks, pulling my head backwards. The pain brings tears to my eyes. “Now!”

I let out a long breath, and a plan of sorts forms in my head. Maybe I can distract him long enough to work my hands free of the rope. And then? Let’s worry about that later. “Y-yeah… hhhhso. First mem-memory. Uhhh… I remember waking up, screaming from a nightmare where I was covered in flames. If I close my eyes I can still feel the heat on my face… I screamed so hard my throat ripped and I could taste blood on my tongue, and… and Dad spent hours trying to calm me down. Heh… it wasn’t until he started humming along to the soft rock radio station I finally closed my eyes and drifted off into an uneasy sleep. I guess I must have been around three or something.”

He nods, and his apparent calm encourages me to continue. I brace myself and bring forth the story I intend to tell him.

“I had a very happy childhood. I did. My parents loved me, and I never wanted for anything. Yet I always felt something was missing. Like I wasn’t whole. I tried not to think about it too much, because like everyone else, I just wanted to be normal and accepted.

But sometimes this longing crept out; when I was sleeping and had no control over myself. When I turned five the dreams became more frequent, and I started to recognise a pattern.” There’s always a pattern, if you know where to look, and it didn’t take me long to see it.

“’Momma! Momma!’ My cries were followed by frantic footsteps on the soft carpet. I think there was a sharp crack, then a low curse being thrown into the room, but I’m not entirely sure. I was too scared to care that Mom had trodden on one of my favourite Barbies.

‘What is it, pumpkin? Another nightmare?’ Mom’s voice was like a soothing blanket over my frayed nerves as she picked me up and held me close. Yes, it was another nightmare, but it wasn’t an ordinary nightmare. My six-year-old brain recognised that much.

Wiping my nose on Mom’s shirt, I sniffed and blinked away the tears that stuck to my eyelashes. ‘Uh-huh. The same… A dark, um, monster was coming in through the window, and he was so scared, and… and then someone was shooting…’ The flash of flames from the gun was what woke me up. To this day, I’m still terrified of… of fire.”

I sigh, and try not to think about my current predicament. Right now a little fire almost seem like a good thing. “Anyway. So Mom stroked my hair and smiled softly. ‘Oh,’ she said, as if she was holding back. ‘You were dreaming about, about S… Sander? again?’ She always struggled to remember the dreams I’d told her about before, and for some reason that annoyed me exceedingly.

But I didn’t know how to tell her that, of course. I was only six, so I banged my fist weakly against her chest. ‘Sam, Momma. His name is Sam.’

Mom gave me a sad smile, and kissed the top of my head. ‘Sorry, honey. It was just a dream. There’s no such thing as monsters –“ I’m interrupted by a low chuckle, and I frown at my captor, who has seated himself at the bottom of my chair, with his feet crossed, and his head in his hands as if I’m reading him a fairytale.

“Nothing,” he smirks, and nods for me to continue again.

“Uh-huh. Well, Mom told me to go back to sleep. She said that nothing could hurt me in my bed. Then she tucked my blanket tight, but there was something about her face that made me suspicious. Like she wasn’t telling me the truth. But then again, Mom always said I wasn’t a very trusting child, so I archived the feeling in the back of my mind where all the other weird ideas I had would eventually end up; like ghosts were real and that werewolves really looked like ordinary people. Oh, the look on Mom and Dad’s faces when I told them. Of course they knew better. There’s no such thing as ghosts – the only monsters out there are…” You, I want to say, but I’m not sure how he’ll react to that, so I sniff, and cough.

“May I please have a glass of water?” I ask, my mouth so dry it hurts to smack my tongue.

“No,” he simply replies, and straightens his back.

Right. My story. Pri one, obviously. “Some dreams are vague like feelings or memories of colours swirling over a blank canvas, or emotions etched into my mind for forever, but without context or a story.

Others, uh, others I remember as if… as if they happened just minutes ago, like those piercing, yellow eyes. So cold, so… evil. I never really saw who they belonged to, but they frightened me so much Mom and Dad thought about sending me to a professional. I wonder what would’ve happened if they did. Those eyes still haunt me sometimes. Sometimes I even feel I can see them when I’m awake… But in the middle of them all stands Sam, like a pulsing beacon of light and safety. Even though his face is blank in my dreams, I always knew it was him, you know?”

He fidgets and shifts on the floor, looking uneasy, but he quickly hides his emotions behind a stern façade. “Tell me about the dreams about Sam.”

“Hum, okay. In those dreams he was there, sometimes almost as we were the same person, or sometimes we would meet and do stuff together. It never, uh, never struck me as weird when I was little, that I never saw his face. It felt natural, and those times I saw others, it was like watching them through a filter, or maybe through his eyes even.

Dean appeared often. His brother. Sometimes like a knight or a caped hero,” I smile from the memory of the tough looking kid in a Batman cowl and the cape flowing behind him as he ran through the streets. “He… uh, would swoop in to save us when we’d gotten lost. Flowers sprouted and blossomed where he walked, and wherever he went darkness cowered. I always liked Dean. He made Sam happy.

Sometimes older people appeared too. At least when I was younger. A man named Dad felt strong and safe, but sometimes he felt distant and sad. Those dreams always made me cry with the heartache Sam tried to hide away.

There was another man too. A gruff, but kind looking old man. Sam called him Uncle Bobby.” There comes a low growl from the floor, but I ignore it. “His hugs scratched my chin, but they were bigger and better than I’d ever known before. Sometimes Uncle Bobby was Uncle Dad. Those were not happy dreams. Well, the dreams were. Usually filled with fun stuff like soccer or baseball and ice cream, but they were almost always immediately followed by a pang of inexplicable guilt and embarrassment before I was rudely ejected from the dream.

Those nights I used to gather all my stuffed toys in my bed with me and place them meticulously around me so they’d know I loved them all equally. That wasn’t entirely true, though. My stuffed gorilla, Hannibal, was my favourite, but I would never admit it out loud so my toys could hear it. But Hannibal always slept in my arms. He knew all my secrets. Like when Dad left with another man when I was seven, and uh…” I let out an uncertain laugh. I hadn’t meant to tell him that. But it’s like I can’t stop myself from it.

“Anyway. When I was nine, I remember the dream so vividly… I was in this, this meadow, I think. So unfamiliar, I’d never been there before, but at the same time I knew exactly where I was, and that there was something important there. Everything was so distracting. The colours were so vibrant I was pretty sure I could touch them if I tried; the air buzzed with excitement, and all around me birds chirped and danced over the tree tops.

Next to me flowed a small brook, and the bubbling reminded me of laughing babies. I followed it. Nothing bad could happen if I just followed the brook, right? Just as I skipped over a rock to cross the water, a shadow flitted across the corner of my eyes, but when I turned, all I could see was a bright green fern stretching to lick the sun.

The water ran upstream, it seemed, but I didn’t think much of it. It was as it should. Eventually I got to a waterfall that flowed upwards, but I was too preoccupied with the table laid out with every candy I could possibly imagine – and quite a bit more, I believe. Sam was there too, and another man I couldn’t really see. They were laughing. I’d never seen him that happy before.

When I approached, Sam got up and hugged me. I was so surprised I totally lost the ability to speak. He introduced me to his friend, I-I’ve forgotten his name, but he was so proud of Sam, and he told me that I was good for looking out for him. Then we gorged ourselves on candy and marshmallows and junk food, and watched cartoons and played Twister.

When I told Mom about the dream, she ruffled my hair and smiled, but under her breath she muttered: ‘That poor boy. He must be feverish –‘ But to me she said: ‘It was only a dream, honey.’

You know… I nodded, pretending I hadn’t heard her, but that’s when I understood: she believed me, even though she didn’t tell me the whole truth. I decided to ask the wisest person I knew the next day: my best friend at school, Lou. He was a year older than me, and he knew everything there was to know about everything worth knowing.” I exhale through my nose and shake my head. The picture of Lou in the schoolyard is almost absurd. And it was so long ago. How young we were.

“Lou folded his hands in his lap and looked at me with the air of a benevolent ruler who’s just about to educate his favourite subject on a very serious matter.

‘You have a soulmate,’ he said matter-of-factly. Several of the onlookers gasped. Some sniggered.

‘Nuh-huh!’ Tilly from science protested. ‘My Mom says there’s no such thing.’ We could practically hear her roll her eyes.

‘Then your Mom is wrong,’ Lou countered, and I huffed in agreement. He’d clearly won the point, even though I didn’t really know what he was talking about. ‘Just because she hasn’t got one, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist!’

‘You know those are just stories, right?’ Maggie chimed in. She was in Lou’s year, and pretty much ruled the school. She cocked an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

“Yeah, no, I’m telling you it’s real.” I was desperate for Lou to be right; I never liked Maggie, and besides nothing would ever convince me that my dreams were just dreams.

“Well, my mom says that it’s just a fairy-tale Nana used to tell to make us go to bed without arguing.”

Lou got to his feet and crossed his arms too. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Maggie shrank back a bit, because he was like a head taller than her, and probably weighed twice as much, but it only took a second or two for her to bounce back, with Tilly in tow.

I don’t remember what Tilly said, but I do remember throwing a few punches. It’s a miracle we didn’t all get suspended. Got detention, though. And it felt so unfair. Because Tilly deserved everything she got. She was a despicable… Anyway. I went home and asked Mom. Mostly because I was sure the teacher was going to tell her what the fight was about anyway, so I figured I’d beat her to it.

The answer I got wasn’t what I expected. I think I thought she was going to deny it and tell me my mind was running away with me again, and that Lou shouldn’t have lied like that. But she sat me down and ran a hand through her hair. ‘It’s a controversial topic,’ she began, ‘and many believe it’s untrue, or that it’s a threat to free will. It’s a rare condition. That’s why we don’t talk about it. But wouldn’t it be wonderful to know someone out there is made for you?’

‘Like you and Dad?’ I asked, rubbing the bruise on my forehead.

She looked at me with tears in her eyes. ‘Honey, I… your father and I kept it quiet because… well, you see, your father and I weren’t – I never had the dreams, though he did. We worked hard to make it… work, and we never thought that… because we, uh, sorta thought it would… uh, that it would…’ She obviously struggled to speak about it. In hindsight I realise that it hurt her greatly, but back then I was just a stubborn brat with insensitive questions.

Trying her best to swallow the lump in her throat so that I didn’t see, she coughed, and moved the cushion half an inch to the right, then back again. ‘It seems silly now,’ she continued after a while. ‘Thinking his soulmate would appear just from us talking about it… As if we could keep him away just by keeping quiet,’ she added with a huff, more to herself than me. “Anyway… those dreams… yes. Sam’s your soulmate, but I can’t tell you when – if – you’ll meet him. Nature is, I wouldn’t exactly call it evil, maybe more tricky. And there hasn’t been much research on the subject, since it’s pretty rare to begin with, and… well, since it’s about love and all. But I think I read somewhere that it’s most likely hereditary. There was a research paper published, I think about twenty years ago, that claimed that only males carry the gene, but I’m not sure. I don’t know.’ Her voice was soft and airy, more vulnerable than I expected a Mother to be.

Mom always did that when she was sad: spoke to me like I was a grown-up, and I always nodded and practised my “understanding” face, but truth be told I didn’t understand half of what she said.

What I did understand, though, was that Sam, the boy I’d been dreaming about my whole life was real, and that one day I might meet him. That thought made me giddy and warm inside, and I couldn’t wait for us to play together. I was only nine, mind you. Uh… May I please have a glass of water?” My voice crack, and he slowly gets to his feet. I use the few seconds alone to wiggle the rope a little further.

When he gets back he watches me with… almost fearful eyes, and he gently helps me to drink. The water is cold and refreshing, and I gulp it down greedily. He wipes my chin, and then sits back down. “Now continue.”

“Right.” I want to ask him why, but I don’t think it’ll do me any good. “The years passed, and I no longer wanted to play with Sam. Somewhere deep in my brain the seed that had been planted when I was born began to grow and bloom.

Mom never mentioned anything about soulmates again, and I quickly learned not to bring it up at school unless I wanted to be ridiculed and laughed at. But the dreams continued.

When I was thirteen, and just starting to figure out my feelings and getting confused with more of them, I had this dream that really stuck with me for a long time. I think it was in September, and I remember I struggled with school a bit at that time. Anyway. In this dream, Sam and me, we were at a museum.

I wasn’t entirely sure how we got there, nor did I know exactly where we were, but I also did know that we were in San Francisco, and this was the gigantic Prehistory Museum that obviously had to be there, since that was where we were. Which is funny, because I’ve never been to San Francisco. Incidentally this was when I learned how to pronounce pterodactyl, heh…”

He gives me a dark look, and I hurry to continue my story.

“This museum, it was, I don’t know, round-ish… the huge cylindrical core was made up of glass, the hundreds of windows gave us glimpses of the exhibitions inside, and we strolled down along the walkway that wound itself around it like a giant vine. It felt like walking through a rainforest – everything was so green and lush.

Each floor was home to a new exhibition, and even though quite a few of them looked interesting – I never really got over my dinosaur phase – we didn’t feel like leaving our jungle path. The rooms were too crowded, or too loud, or both, and we just wanted to be together.

Once we stopped by a souvenir cart, and Sam bought me a miniature model of an ichthyosaur skeleton, and I bought him a lollipop in all the colours of the rainbow, because that was what he wanted more than anything.

We didn’t say much, for what felt like forever. Occasionally Sam would stop and point at something new or unusual, and sometimes we’d get distracted by a sound or the sight of traffic outside, but it only took seconds and then we were back together again on the neverending carpeted spiral.

At one point, Sam’s hand brushed mine, and we both jumped. He coughed and hummed, I blushed like I’d never touched another human being before, and then we both looked away. It was the best feeling in the world: my heart hammered, I was on the verge of throwing up, yet I was floating just a couple of inches above the ground, because I knew what was coming.

A wave of courage hit me, and I reached for Sam’s hand just as he reached for mine. The moment we touched the world went darker, as if the sun suddenly went down, but then thousands of tiny lights blinked all around us. One of the lights landed on my nose, and I squinted to look at the firefly. When I looked up again, Sam was closer than he was before. I’m pretty sure there were fireworks too. Wind lifted my hair, and I closed my eyes and leaned in – only to be interrupted by a loud screech from the velociraptor exhibit. We turned our backs to it, but the sound continued, so I opened my eyes and cursed loudly. I was back in my bed, the alarm clock shrieked at me, and I had two hours of history and maths waiting for me.

I think that dream lingers because most of the others were so dark and scary. I can’t tell whose dream is who’s anymore, but I remember dreaming a lot about those yellow eyes. Especially in combination with black smoke and a smell that stung my nose. And sometimes I would comfort Sam, or he would comfort me, and I would wake up with tears in my eyes. I guess it was because our minds were getting used to each other. I dunno.

There were a lot of monsters. But sometimes, sometimes… I recognise the dream as fully mine.” I close my eyes and dip further into the memory. “I don’t know why I was crying. Maybe it was just that time of the month, maybe something horrible had happened that I couldn’t remember, or maybe I was just exhausted from Mom’s constant talk about college. The applications were written, but I didn’t know where I wanted to go – or even what I wanted to do. At any rate the tears wouldn’t stop falling, and soon I sat in a big puddle of water that rose higher with every plop. Kinda like Alice in Wonderland. Heh… that was one of my favourite books when I was little.” I open my eyes and sigh. I feel like crying now. But I guess it won’t do me any good.

With another sigh, I continue; “Suddenly an arm snaked around my shoulder, and Sam’s head leaned against mine. ‘I’m here.’ No questions, no fussing. He knew what I needed: company and silence. I didn’t even have to say thank you, but I tried anyway.

My voice was too raw, no sound would come, but Sam nodded and pulled me closer. ‘Any time,’ he said, and that was it.

We sat for a while, watching the world scuttle past. Piles of baked goods appeared and disappeared again. A small monkey walked on ropes between two dumpsters. In the shadows I’m pretty sure I saw Ross Geller hunt for rats, but I didn’t say anything because it looked like he didn’t want to be disturbed.

Breathing out, I noticed my cheeks were dry: all that was left of my tears was a dull aching in my temples.

The clouds shifted, and we sat inside a rainbow, floating high above the grassy fields I recognised from that school trip in fourth grade when André and Lionel scared half the class by finding a huge slug and running after all the girls with the poor creature dangling from their hands.

‘It’s a nice memory,’ Sam said after a while.

‘Yes. It is,’ I replied, not knowing what else to say. I turned towards him to ask about his school trips, but he was gone. His warmth and scent lingered, but the place he’d been sitting in was empty. I missed him.

That was the last time I saw him for a long while. I guess I was busy with school, and I don’t remember dreaming much at all. Got a boyfriend, though it didn’t last long, because he found out about Sam. Read it in my diary, I guess. Wasn’t too upset to see him leave. He wasn’t too interesting anyway.

But when I was… around twenty, I had another dream. As I drifted off to sleep I felt the fabric of reality stretch around me, and I let it, knowing it would soon settle again. I wasn’t afraid.” Not like now, I almost add, but I bite my tongue. I don’t want to show that… that creep… that I’m scared of him.

“The darkness faded and revealed a rolling meadow filled with all the flowers I’d ever heard of. And probably a few I hadn’t. I immediately recognised the place: it was my safe space. My Ghibli meadow. I’d watched “Spirited Away” with a reverence bordering a religious experience not long before. Nothing could hurt me here.

The sound of the summer breeze harmonised with the birds as the familiar sounds and smells brought me home. Finally I could breathe.

Soon it became clear to me that I wasn’t alone as I expected, and I looked around with my heart pounding in my chest. The colours paled and the shadows lengthened – and then I spotted him: standing a little way away, looking curious and almost shy for intruding.

My heart slowed as I realised who it was, and I smiled and beckoned him over. ‘Hey, Sam,’ I whispered as he came closer, knowing he could hear me. Around us the colours grew stronger again, and warmer, and the sun rose higher in the sky.

Now, I didn’t know much about Sam, I still don’t, but I knew he had a troubled soul. It wasn’t hard to see. Hell, I didn’t even know his face, but I knew he was tall, and I knew that he was beautiful, both inside and out. Even here I had to bend my neck back to look up at him.

‘Hey,’ he said, giving me chills from the big grin in his voice.

‘Haven’t seen you around in a while,’ I replied, hoping he’d detect the longing in my voice.

He looked away into the distance. ‘I know. Things have been… busy. So this is… this is you, huh?’ I thought I could detect guilt in his voice, but I was never good with people, so I didn’t say anything. Instead I focused on the curiosity in his mind, and how warm it made me feel. The flowers around us rustled proudly.

‘This is me.’ I let out my arms and spun around on the spot, almost stumbling over an overgrown bush of berries.

Sam smiled. I could feel it in the sunshine. ‘This is…’ He paused. ‘Nice. It’s nice.’

It was so good to see him again, to be with him. We walked for a while, talking about nothing and everything. He picked a flower and placed it behind my ear, and I blushed furiously.

I desperately wanted to kiss him, but he held back on me. I didn’t understand why, because I saw the same connection we’d always had, but I figured he had his reasons, so…

Well, after we passed the small cabin where I used to go to sort my thoughts, another woman joined us. Um, not joined as such. She wasn’t really there, more of a fleeting ghost or projection of a thought. I’d never seen her before, but her name was clear in Sam’s mind. Jessica. He called her Jess. And she called to him, and… Sam just… he faded. I…” The memory still stings in my chest. I don’t know if it’ll ever go away. I swallow and blink to stop my tears. He dabs my eyes with the sleeve of his sweater, and stretches. He yawns, and then his stomach growls.

“Go on,” he murmurs. “I wanna hear the rest of it, before…” he trails off, leaving me confused. What has he planned?

“I hated that woman for ages. She appeared in almost every dream we shared. She stole my Sam. But… I knew she made him happy, so somewhere, deep inside – I would never have admitted it then – I was grateful. Dean had… Dean had all but disappeared from Sam’s dreams, and when he did pop up it was usually to argue. At least Jess kept him company. And his dreams were… nice. No monsters, no darkness. But my dreams changed too. They lost their colours. They felt colder too. Once, Sam asked me about it. He said he’d noticed, but I turned away and didn’t answer him.

For a while I dreaded going to sleep. I didn’t want to see her again. Didn’t want to carry that feeling of, of betrayal. I wasn’t… angry… at Sam. I was disappointed, sure, but I didn’t own him. No, I was pissed at the universe for punching me in the gut like that.

Then suddenly, the dark dreams returned. The fire too. It was stronger, burned hotter. I could see the outline of a woman in the flames. Her face was contorted in pain, and her blood trickled down the walls.” I shudder. It had dawned on me one morning, after watching her maimed, burning body, that the woman was Jessica, and that she probably was dead in a fire. My heart had bled for Sam that day. Still does.

“I can barely talk about this. Please. I gotta… I gotta…” I lean back and rest my head on the back of the chair. “It was bad, okay? I don’t know what happened to Sam. He was so happy, and then almost nothing but demons and blood and monsters under the bed. And the torture. Oh god, the torture. I could almost feel how Sam’s limbs were ripped apart and put together again. They plucked out his eyeballs over and over. Cut him, bled him dry… I feel like throwing up just by thinking about it. The images are seared into my brain, and I wish to god they weren’t!

In the beginning, I tried to reach out to him, and occasionally he’d welcome my light, as he put it. He said I made the suffering bearable, but as time went on, he stopped responding to me. And then… nothing. Nothing at all, for a whole year!” My voice breaks and my heart with it.

“It was nothing like before when I didn’t dream about him. Then I’d sorta sense him; know he was there, doing his thing, you know? But now? It was as if he didn’t exist. That was the longest year of my life. What if something happened to him? What if he died?”

He laughs as if the thought amuses him, and I suppress the urge to spit in his face. Yeah, there’s no such thing as monsters, but he’s one alright! Twisted and vile. And there’s no one here to stop him. And if I get my hands free? What can I hope to do?

“My heart longed for Sam, but after so long without anything, I started thinking I’d made it all up. Yeah. I’m an idiot. I should’ve -- But I… I started to come to terms with the thought that maybe he was… The whole romance thing, the idea of soulmates – what kind of nonsense… I mean, not everybody has one, right? But I started questioning it: like what made a soulmate a soulmate and not just two people that were so very in love?

Sure, you have the dream thing, but they say we only dream about people we already know or have seen, so it might as well be a dream about that plumber you saw that one time you went with your mom to work. But then there were the thing with the faces… yeah… I didn’t really believe my own doubts, but I worked so hard on pretending I did, that I forgot. So when the dreams returned, I almost spooked myself awake.

Yeah, the dreams came back. Just as suddenly as they’d stopped. And it was worse than any horror film. They hurt, physically and mentally. Like someone pressed a hot nail into my brain. There was light flashing in front of my eyes, and sometimes it was pitch black, and we could hear something scuttling past just outside our reach.

I remember squeezing Sam’s hand once, and he yelped as if it hurt him. It was all dark around us, and there was not a sound except for the soft pitter-patter of rain on the lawn – no, that wasn’t it. That was the sound of footsteps. Naked feet slapping silently against concrete floors. I grabbed Sam’s other hand. He was totally calm, but he squeezed my hand in a quiet gesture of safety. Whatever this creature was, he wasn’t afraid of it. But Something was coming, and Something was going to bring Sam to his knees. I just knew it.

And when it came… oh jeez… ‘You’re a freak, Sammy. A monster. You should’ve died!’ Just the voice was enough to make Sam crumple to the ground. Dean appeared in a haze, his face distorted, but I could see the disappointment still. But it wasn’t him. I knew Dean. He loved his brother – deeply. He would never. NEVER. Say something to hurt him. But Sam never saw this false image. He cowered on the floor, his face buried in his knees and his arms around his head. He was… was rocking back and forth, and I know he was crying. I could feel it. And every word from Dean cut him open.

There wasn’t much I could do. He wouldn’t acknowledge me anymore, but I stroked his hair and told him he was perfect, and he flinched away from me. I told him to not listen to the creature that had taken his brother’s face, but I think he closed his mind to me.

I felt him crumble. I stumbled over his frail form in the darkness, terrified and frozen.

I kinda didn’t recognise him. Sure, he had the same silhouette, and the same homely smell surrounded us, but it was as if he didn’t see me. No: he ignored me on purpose, flinching away when I got too close.

‘Sam,’ I said, trying to keep desperation from my voice. ‘It’s me.’

The only response I got was a low hum, and him leaning away slowly.

‘Hey,’ I tried, softer this time. ‘You don’t have to be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you.’ Why he would be scared of me was a mystery, but the claustrophobic weight of panic descended on us. I could hardly breathe.

‘You’re not real,’ he whispered hoarsely, and I wondered if he’d been screaming. Maybe he was hurt – or ill. He did rub his hand as if it was painful.

‘Are you hurt?’ I asked, reaching for his hand, but he snatched it out of my reach.

‘Not real.’

‘I am real,’ I countered. ‘But this is a dream, so…’ I cut myself off. I wasn’t making it any better. Suddenly Sam started to fade from me. I caught a glimpse of what looked like charred wings before I was engulfed in freezing flames. I woke up panting hard and still feeling the cold spreading over my skin. My heart was dancing in my chest, and high-pitched ringing filled my ears.

It’s hard to separate one dream from another. They continued for a long time. Nothing but fear and confusion, and sometimes cold fury. He was hunkered down in a corner, trying to hide from something. Despair and anger radiated from the shivering pile, but it was so dark I couldn’t see him properly. Still, I knew it was him. The familiar feeling of a tether drew me to him. ‘Sam?’ I asked, as quietly and gently as I could, just as I always did.

His head snapped up, confused by the new presence, but he recognised me too. I think. ‘Who are you?’

Once again he broke my heart. ‘It’s me; Y/N.’ We’d been through this a thousand times, and I didn’t understand how I hadn’t just given up yet. But the bond between us was so strong I don’t think I could have, even if I tried.

‘You’re not real,’ he replied. ‘You’re created to make me… to punish me for…’ He was suddenly on his feet, and I could see he was falling apart. His clothes were torn, and the rags were swaying in a wind that wasn’t there. He had burn marks on his arms, and his face was gaunt and grey.

‘Get away from me!’ There was so much pain in his voice I almost started crying. His words punched me in the stomach, and for a second it was so, so hard to breathe. I felt ill. Frost rose from his mouth, and darkness swirled around us again. Howling winds brought a cold that froze our bones, and I just couldn’t seem to warm up despite the fact that there was a fire burning in front of us.

‘Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,’ a mocking voice sneered. ‘She’s just as real as I am.’

Sam fell to his knees again and started muttering. ‘Go away, go away, go away…’

So yeah… that was a fun time. But I think he got better. He doesn’t avoid me any more. The monsters are still there, but Sam’s stronger now. Still sad, still haunted, but he’s almost back to his normal self. Back to his kind, caring self. I… I have this dog I dream about sometimes, and when they meet, Dog really lights up, and Sam can spend hours playing with him. But I’m…” I look away. The past is hard, yeah, but it’s the past. Knowing what comes next is… I’m getting desperate. “I’ve tried to ask him where he is. If we can meet, but I never remember his answer when I wake up. And.. I-I think I might never meet him in reality, you know? So when I saw that bar in his dream, and I actually remembered and knew where it was, I…” I give him a flat look. “Yeah. I’m starting to think that was a mistake.”

He’s not gonna let me go. I can see it in his eyes. And now that my story is finished, well… I might not take him out, but at least I can leave a few scratches on his face: I’ve almost managed to work my hands free. Just a few more minutes…

It’s difficult to decipher the look on his face. Fear? Nah, that can’t be it. Pity, maybe. “Aw,” he says after a short pause. “That’s a nice story. I’ll make sure to tell him if I ever run into Sammy-boy. Hell, it almost made me feel for you. But,” he continues with a creepy smile that doesn’t reach his eyes at all, “I’m still gonna eat’cha!”

What??? His statement takes a moment to reach my brain, I mean, really reach my brain, and in that short time a second, pointy, set of teeth has descended over his normal ones, except that is impossible and I definitely need to get my head checked.

I blink, and he’s moved to my throat – what the hell? Does this dude think he’s a vampire or something? Ow! That really hurts! I think I’m bleeding, and… Suddenly he flinches, and he looks up at me with hungry eyes and a wicked grin. “Don’t go anywhere,” he says and there’s blood dribbling down from the corner of his mouth. I giggle. He’s a messy eater – I think I’m gonna throw up, or faint, or… yeah, fainting sounds good right now, and I can sorta feel the floor crash into my head as I topple off the chair, but I really don’t care. I just wanna rest. This has been a crazy day!

When I come to, I’m lying on my back and there’s someone standing over me, pressing something to my neck. I don’t think it’s the same guy.

“Hey, hey… there you go. Wake up. Can you do that for me? Open your eyes?”

His voice is pleasant and feels kinda familiar, but I can’t place it, and I’m too tired to ask. But I do as he tells me, because I want to make him happy; blink a couple of times and shake my head – ow, that hurts!

“Careful. You’ve lost a bit of blood, and you hit your head pretty hard. But you were lucky. That sonofabitch didn’t have time to make a proper incision, so he only drank a little…”

What the hell is he talking about? Oh. Yeah. Crazyboy. The one I thought were going to show me a good time, but instead tried to… eat me. Excellent. I groan and scoot up so the pain in my back goes away.

The skin is raw where the rope cut into me, and I rub it gently, whining from the pain. Nimble hands put a bandage over the cut on my neck, and I try to stretch a bit.

“Sit still, please. I gotta see your hands too.” His fingers brush gently over the bruises, and he wraps a strip of fabric around my wrist. To protect me from infection, I guess, but I get a sudden flash of being tied down, and throw my hands up. I don’t know, maybe I hope to punch him in the nose or something.

He backs away and holds up his own hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

Looking up at my saviour through shielding hands, I see kindness in his eyes. He is oddly familiar, and though I think I’m supposed to be terrified, and I am, I feel unusually calm and collected.

Then I spot the other guy over his shoulder and the world grounds to a halt. Looking from one to another, back and forth, my mind spins so fast I get dizzy. Could this be real? I know I’m not dreaming... but… Standing in the doorway with a goddamn machete swung nonchalantly over his shoulder, is Dean. Dean from my dreams. Brother of…

“Sam?” I whisper, scared that he’ll disappear once I’ve said his name out loud.

He looks at me, the confusion evident in his face – that face I’ve never seen before this moment, but that I’ve loved with all of my heart. His brows knit together, and his lips part slightly – my god, those lips… and he kneels beside me. The cogs in his brain turn furiously. I can see it. Then he lights up. “Y/N?”

“What, Y/N? Like Y/N?” Dean drops the machete and hurries over.

Unable to keep a smile from my face, I nod and roll onto my knees. Before I can stack my feet under me, Sam takes my hand and pulls me up.

“Y/N…” he repeats almost inaudibly. “I half thought you didn’t exist at all.”

Sam smiles at me and my heart soar. It’s like coming home after a long and gruelling hike in the woods. I can relax. And breathe.

I lean closer and Sam follows suit. The moment our foreheads touch, I swear angels sing – even if it sounds tacky!

“This is so weird,” Sam whispers, sending shivers through my whole body. “We just met, but I’ve known you since… always…”

Just as I’m about to answer with something really cheesy, Dean appears in the corner of my eye. “Oooh! Are you gonna kiss now?”

Sam’s face contorts into an expression only ever seen on fed-up little brothers, but I grin widely and reply: “Bitch, we might.”

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#sam winchester x reader #reader insert #spn #fanfic #sam winchester #supernatural fan fiction #fluff #angsty at times #soulmate!AU #the man in my dreams #writing is hard

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rainforest-rosegold · 6 years

Text

Soulbound

Read it on AO3!

It was supposed to be a straightforward visit to a peaceful planet: Land on Vordus-8. Attend the new Prime Minister’s inauguration. Officially induct Vordus-8 into the Coalition. Go sightseeing, time permitting. The Galra weren’t supposed to show up and attack unexpectedly. Lance wasn’t supposed to have a brush with death. And Pidge certainly wasn’t supposed to make a split-second decision that would change the course of both of their lives.

The day after the inauguration found Team Voltron picnicking in an open, grassy area high in the mountains, next to a cliff overlooking distant forests, rivers, and lakes. The view was breathtaking, to be sure, but without her Paladin armor and the jet pack that came with it, Pidge couldn’t help being wary of the drop.

The sun was shining, the Vordian sky was vivid teal, and the temperature could not have been more perfect as the Paladins and their companions enjoyed the actual, non-goo meal Hunk had prepared. As Keith bit into a sandwich, the jagged, cryptically curling crimson soulmark all down his right arm began to glow faintly. “What did you put in this to make it so tasty, Hunk?” he demanded, staring at the sandwich as though suspicious of its deliciousness.

Hunk shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Some sort of spicy Vordian pepper-like vegetable, something that Vordian chef called murglak, that tasty shredded steak we had at the banquet, and a splash of my special sauce.” He tried to brush off the compliment, but from the faint yellow gleam from beneath his right sleeve, it was clear he was pleased with himself. Pidge decided she had to try one of the sandwiches herself and was not disappointed.

The afternoon passed in a similarly leisurely manner as the Paladins and their companions enjoyed a day free of fighting and stress. As the shadows lengthened, Lance stood, wandering toward the cliffside. “Look at that,” he breathed, beckoning the others over.

Pidge came to stand beside him, trying to figure out what he was talking about. “So… what are we looking at?”

“That.” Lance pointed at the horizon, and Pidge caught her breath. Although billions of sunsets happened every day throughout the universe, she had to admit that this one was especially breathtaking, with Vordus-8’s greenish sun turning the clouds vivid shades of blue, green, and gold and lighting up the countryside far below them with mellow fire.

“It’s beautiful,” Allura murmured.

“Not as beautiful as you, Princess,” Lance said, waggling his eyebrows and completely ruining the mood. Pidge jabbed him with her elbow, telling herself it was because Allura and Keith were on their way toward a relationship and she didn’t want Lance to mess that up; it certainly had nothing to do with her own feelings.

“Ow,” Lance complained, rubbing his side and giving her an offended look. “What was that for?”

Pidge rolled her eyes, opening her mouth to respond, but then motion in the distance caught her eye. “Wait, what’s that?”

“Hey, don’t change the subject!” Lance said indignantly.

“Shush,” Pidge insisted. “Does anyone else see that?”

The other Paladins squinted at the horizon. “I can’t tell what it is,” said Hunk ruefully.

“They,” Keith corrected. “There’s two -- no, three -- five of them?”

Allura held up a hand to block out the blinding light of the sunset. “I think they’re getting closer…” Suddenly, her eyes widened. “Everyone get back from the edge!”

Keith and Hunk immediately backed up while Pidge squinted at the ever-enlarging dots. “What are they?”

“Galra fighters.” Allura’s tone was urgent. “We need to get back to the Castle, now.”

Pidge nodded and took a step back, and later was very glad she did. The fighters began blasting at them, and the Paladins raced toward the cover of the trees. “Coran!” Allura yelled into her communicator. “You need to bring the Castle to our location as quickly as possible! The Galra are here!”

Suddenly, with a loud bang and a crumbling sound, a chunk of the cliff began to fall, revealing that they had spent the afternoon on an outcropping of the mountainside. As luck would have it, Lance was on the chunk of falling rock. He leaped for the new edge, his determined expression transforming into one of panic as it became clear he wasn’t going to make it.

Pidge acted without thinking. As Lance passed the apex of his trajectory and began to fall in earnest, she reached out, managing to grasp his left hand in her own. As their palms met, she felt a warm tingle race up her arm, but she couldn’t focus on that now. Yanking with all her might, she managed to pull him toward her, changing his path enough that instead of falling to an early death, he crashed straight into her, sending both of them tumbling in a confused tangle of arms and legs.

The Castle soared into view, its defenses blasting at the small Galra force, and Pidge and Lance hastily extricated themselves from each other. As they sprinted toward the Castle, Pidge was hyper-conscious of Lance’s shock, tension, and residual terror tinged with relief. She glanced over at him to make sure he was okay, and her heart sank as her gaze landed on his left arm. The arm that should have lacked a soulmark until he chose to soulbind with someone. The arm that was now clearly marked with a very familiar curling, vine-looking pattern.

There was no use denying it to herself. Pidge recognized that soulmark -- she had traced it up and down her right arm countless times, wondered who she would soulbind with, imagined it adorning the left arm of any number of her crushes. Since meeting her team at the Garrison, she had often imagined it on the arm of a certain rakish fighter pilot. Never once had she suspected it would ever actually appear there, and especially not by accident. It can’t be true, she thought stubbornly. There’s no way that’s my soulmark. She rolled up her left sleeve to prove it to herself, only to find her fears confirmed in the form of a blue wave-like soulmark swirling from her left palm up into her sleeve. For better or worse, she and Lance were soulmates now.

“Lance, I’m sorry!” Pidge repeated for what must have been the millionth time.

Lance turned away, trying to ignore the flood of emotions. Why did girls have so many of them? Guilt, regret, desperation, and anger, sure, but also a tinge of delight -- some part of Pidge was very happy indeed to have soulbound with Lance, and Lance felt disgust at having been manipulated creeping at his throat.

The trouble with being soulmates was that she could sense his emotions as well. “I promise, I really didn’t mean to soulbind with you!” Pidge cried, and Lance knew if he turned around to look at her, he’d see the tears in her eyes.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before taking away my choice in the matter!”

And suddenly, anger overtook Pidge’s mess of feelings. “What did you want me to do, let you fall to your death?”

“I don’t know, okay?” Lance stood, annoyed with the conversation, the whole soulmate thing, and especially Pidge. “I don’t want to even look at you right now.” He stalked from the lounge, his sense of Pidge’s emotions slightly lessening as he left her presence. Despite the increased distance and the walls between them, both literal and metaphorical, he could feel her anguish all the way back to his room.

Despite their best efforts, the soulbond between Pidge and Lance continued to strengthen, and they began actively avoiding each other to avoid having to deal with the other’s emotions. Unsurprisingly, the rest of the team picked up on this, and so it was that the next less busy quintant about an Earth week later found a very concerned Allura at Pidge’s door.

“What do you want?” Pidge’s voice came out much more hostile than she had intended.

“I want to know what’s going on between you and Lance,” Allura replied without preamble. “May I come in?”

Pidge huffed but opened the door wide enough to admit the Black Paladin. “Fine. Make yourself at home.”

Allura carefully climbed over the piles of clothing and dismantled technology to perch on the edge of Pidge’s bunk. “Shiro explained your soulmarks to me when I first met all of you, but that doesn’t explain why you and Lance have been so at odds lately.”

“It’s because usually people choose to soulbind.” Pidge tried and failed to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “With Lance and me, it happened by accident, so while we can pick up on one another’s emotions and even hear a few of each other’s thoughts, that doesn’t mean we have to like it.”

Allura proved to have good intuition even without being Pidge’s soulmate. “You have… feelings for him, don’t you?”

Pidge nodded miserably. “He hates me now, though. If I ever had a chance with him, it disappeared when I took his choice away.”

“When you saved his life,” Allura corrected.

“Yeah, well, that’s not how he sees it.”

Allura scowled. “If Lance doesn’t realize what he has right in front of him, he’s even denser than I thought.” Unexpectedly, she pulled Pidge into a hug.

While Pidge appreciated the gesture, she just wasn’t in the mood for it, pulling away after a few seconds. “I just don’t know what I'm supposed to do about all this.”

Allura hummed. “I don’t know, but I do know the mice made a discovery last night that may interest you.”

Pidge sat up straighter, intrigued. “What did they find?”

“An old invention of my father’s that never really caught on,” said Allura. “I can guarantee you’ve never seen anything like it.”

Pidge stood. “Where is it?”

“Follow me.” Allura left the cabin, leading Pidge through the castle down to a closet just off the ballroom. She quickly unlocked the closet and began to pull out something very large. “He never did… come up with… a name for it,” Allura panted as she dragged out whatever-it-was. “It was supposed to be the next big musical innovation, but nobody could get the hang of playing it.”

Allura stopped and stepped aside, allowing Pidge to get a good look a large, oddly-shaped wooden box with myriad strings inside. An odd-looking system of hammers seems to be the method for making sound with it, activated by pressing rows of purple and blue keys… Pidge laughed out loud when she realized. “It’s a piano!”

Allura blinked. “A what?”

“An instrument we have on Earth,” Pidge explained. “It looks a little different, but the structure is basically the same, and it’s probably the most widely-played instrument on the planet.” She pulled out a frequency sensor that had come in handy more times than she could count, set it to detect sound waves, and hit the key that would have been A on an Earth piano. Somehow, even after ten thousand years, the note’s frequency was still a perfect 440Hz. Delighted, she sat down on the bench and spread her fingers over the keys, glancing at Allura. “May I?”

Allura laughed delightedly. “Be my guest!”

Pidge needed no further prompting. After stumbling through a few scales, she began to regain her feel for the instrument, gaining confidence as her hands remembered the skills they had possessed before she became the Green Paladin. Soon she was gliding through lively sonatas, coaxing out haunting laments, and pounding out her favorite showtunes, too engrossed to notice when Allura quietly sidled from the room. The only times she glitched were when she caught sight of her left hand, occasionally missing notes when met with the still-unfamiliar sight of Lance’s soulmark.

Completely absorbed in playing, Pidge failed to notice when the ballroom door opened once more, and even the increased sense from her soulmarks escaped her notice… that is, until Lance spoke, snapping her from her piano-induced reverie. “I didn’t know we had a piano here.”

“Gah! Lance!” Pidge jolted away from the piano, cutting herself off mid-song. “What are you doing here?” Her words came out more hostile than she intended.

Lance scowled. “I mean, I thought maybe we could talk, since you seemed to be in a better mood than usual, but I guess that’s not happening.” He turned to leave.

“Wait! That’s not -- I didn’t --” Pidge’s less-than-cohesive sentences fell on deaf ears as Lance stalked from the room. The fleeting joy of her music long gone, she buried her head in her arms, wishing she could block out Lance’s mix of confusion and hostility.

The next quintant, Team Voltron was back on duty, working to free planet Morixos from the Galra’s oppressive presence. Lance and Pidge were able to set aside their argument long enough to form Voltron and defeat the fleet stationed in the system, but the battle left everyone emotionally taxed.

The blue-skinned Morixite leader seemed to pick up on this as the Paladins and Coran trooped tiredly into the celebratory banquet in their honor. “What is wrong, Paladins?” she asked, and Lance hoped she wouldn’t overbalance as she tilted her oversized head to one side. “This was a great victory, yes? Let us celebrate!”

Hunk’s soulmark gleamed as servants brought out tray after tray of exotic-looking food, most of it blue, but nobody else seemed able to muster much energy. Lance ate without gusto, unable to even enjoy the attention several charming blue girls were lauding him with. That whole fight was way too close, he reflected grimly, forced to the realization that it was because of the tension between him and Pidge that it had taken them four tries to form Voltron. From the shame and general grumpiness emanating from Pidge in waves, he figured she felt the same.

Sure enough, as the leader finished her heartfelt speech thanking Team Voltron for everything they had done, Pidge stood. “I, ah… I need some time alone.” Her voice shook slightly, and nobody tried to stop her as she fled from the room. Lance watched her go, wondering if he should go after her. Maybe I’ve been too harsh with her… But, no, he could sense her feelings of stifledness, her desire to be anywhere but that banquet hall at that moment. Near him. It hurt, but he understood, and with a sigh, he turned back to the banquet table.

“Hey there, handsome,” said a sultry voice. Lance turned and saw a Mixolite girl who, despite her resemblance to a bobblehead, was quite pretty. “You look stressed. Maybe you could use a back rub?”

Normally, Lance would have been tempted, but his mind was elsewhere that night. “No, thanks.”

The girl looked hurt. “Are you sure? I give good ones, especially to boys as cute as you.”

“I said no,” Lance repeated a little bit harshly. “Would you leave me alone?” He pretended not to notice the other Paladins staring at him in surprise as the Mixolite stalked away in a huff.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything, Lance?” Allura asked, forcing a change of subject. “It’s impolite not to, you know.”

“And it’s really good,” Hunk added. “You have got to try the blue stuff!”

“Hunk, that’s literally all of it,” Lance deadpanned.

“Exactly!”

Lance had just begun reaching for a piece of elaborate blue bread when a burning tingle raced up his left arm. “Ow!”

“What’s wrong?” Allura asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Lance felt a flood of emotions that were not his own -- surprise, panic, anger. Intense pain. He launched to his feet. “Pidge!”

“Didn’t she say she wanted to be alone?” Keith protested as Lance sprinted for the door.

“I have to help her!” Lance knew he wasn’t making sense, but there wasn’t time to explain. Ignoring the disapproving looks of everyone in the room, he sprinted back toward the Castle. As he ran, Blue seemed to sense his desperation, swooping from her hangar to scoop him up in her mouth. “Thanks, girl,” he painted, trying to get his breath back.

Now… where is she? Lance thrust the control sticks forward, zooming over the planet’s azure surface at full throttle, trying to steer in the direction where he could feel Pidge’s emotions most strongly. “C’mon, old Blue, faster,” he muttered through clenched teeth as his Lion swooped upward, heading for the planet’s atmosphere.

Lance followed the sensation of Pidge’s fear and defiance, wincing at the burning sensation from her soulmark. I’m coming, Pidge, he thought determinedly, pushing Blue to go faster still.

And suddenly, with a tingle from his palm to his heart, a thought pierced Lance’s mind that was not his own. Lance?

The soulbond! Lance had heard of soulmates occasionally communicating telepathically, but it was a rare occurrence even on Earth. It’s me. Lance put all his mental energy into transmitting the thought to Pidge.

I’m in a Galra fighter. It was clear Pidge was trying desperately to hold it together. I think we’re headed for Galra Central Command.

I’m on my way. Lance could have cried with relief. Pidge was a captive, but for the moment, she was relatively safe. He’d make it to her in no time. As these thoughts took over his mind, he felt a wave of hope from Pidge drown out her panic, and he urged Blue onward, determined to reach her before she reached Galra Central Command.

“So, little Paladin, want to hear what Haggar’s going to do with you once I turn you in and claim my reward?”

Pidge didn’t, but as her entire body seemed to be in a temporary state of paralysis due to whatever the smug Galra officer had hit her with, she didn’t get a say in the matter. Making a valiant effort to tune out his grating voice as he droned about all the terrible tortures Haggar would put her through, Pidge gritted her teeth, trying to force her mouth to open.

About a varga later (though it felt like deca-phoebs), Pidge regained a bit of control, forcing her jaw open. “You won’t live to regret this,” she spat.

“Oho! The little Paladin speaks!” The Galra officer glanced offhandedly in her direction. “I suppose that means it’s wearing off. Can’t have that, now, can we?” With a flick of his wrist, he jabbed her again with his stunner, simultaneously giving her an electric (or quintessential?) shock and injecting something into her veins. Pidge’s body spasmed, and if she could have screamed, she would have; it felt like she was being torn apart from the inside.

The Galra officer studied her face, smirking at what he saw. “Much better,” he approved. Pidge found herself wishing telepathic murder was possible. Thankfully, the agony faded unnaturally quickly, replaced by stifling numbness.

Sudden sensation caught her off guard as a tingle down her left arm broke through the maddening nothingness. I can see fighters ahead. Which one are you in?

The lead one, Pidge replied hurriedly. I can’t move, so you’ll have to find a way to get me out.

Got it. Pidge reached out through her soulbond, clinging tightly to Lance’s determination and the knowledge that he was on his way for her. Hope for her rescue battled with worry, which she stamped down. Of course he’d be okay. Of course they’d make it through this and be safe and together in no time.

A voice came on over the fighter’s communicator. “Blue Lion approaching, sir. What are your orders?”

“Blast!” The Galra officer let loose a string of what Pidge assumed was profanity. “Shoot it down! Keep it away from my ship!” Pidge felt the fighter accelerate to escape the Lion.

They’re turning around to attack! Panic filtered through the soulbond along with Lance’s ‘voice.’ I can’t tell which one was in the lead!

Ignore them, Pidge insisted. The guy who has me is trying to get away!

Through her soulbond, Pidge could imagine Lance taking a deep breath and setting his jaw. Moments later, there was a muffled boom, and the fighter jolted. Are you wearing your armor, Pidge?! The sudden thought from Lance came accompanied by a surge of panic.

Yes… what are you planning? Pidge had a feeling she knew, and it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

In the silent oblivion of space, Pidge couldn’t hear the Blue Lion’s weapons firing, but she heard them impact the fighter and felt the jolts as the Galra officer desperately tried to keep the ship steady. Moments later, Pidge was blinded by a brilliant, fiery flash and crash that launched her out into nothingness, helpless to stop herself from spinning or control her trajectory away from the explosion.

Pidge’s flailing, chaotic flight lasted maybe a dobosh before sound returned and she landed heavily on something hard and flat. “Pidge! Are you okay?” Black spots danced before her eyes, and the last thing she saw before consciousness faded entirely was a very concerned Lance.

“This isn’t my fault, is it?” Lance stared worriedly at the motionless form of his soulmate floating catatonic in the healing pod.

“It was the fault of the Galra who abducted her, not you,” Allura assured him.

“For the twenty-seventh time,” Keith muttered.

Coran hummed. “She appears to have been exposed to small doses of concentrated quintessence, coupled with some sort of muscle-freezing drug. She’ll be okay, but it might take a few quintants.”

“Okay.” As the rest of the Paladins and Coran left the room, Lance approached the pod. “I know you can’t hear me right now, but I need to get this off my chest.” He took a deep breath. “I… I’m sorry. When you soulbound with me, I thought… I didn’t know what to think. I pushed you away when I should have been thanking you, even though I could feel how much it was hurting you. And, well, if you want the truth, it hurt me, too. I care about you a lot, Pidge. I mean, understanding you as well as I do now with the whole soulmate thing, it would be hard not to, but it’s more than that. All this time we’ve been in space, I’ve realized you make me smile like no one ever has. You’re smart, and funny, and brave, and kind… I guess what I’m trying to say is, every time I flirted with alien girls, every time I tried to get Allura to notice me, I was lying to myself. Deep down, it’s always been you. The truth is, I’m in love with you, and I’ve been a real idiot to not realize it sooner.” Lance squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his palms against the surface of the healing pod as if to pierce through Pidge’s coma with love alone.

Searing heat. Lance gasped, his eyes snapping open just in time to see Pidge's soulmarks begin to glow -- a quick look revealed that his own were glowing as well, more brightly than he had ever seen. The monitors beside the healing pod went haywire for a moment before settling to a normal, healthy pattern. The surface of the pod dissolved, and Pidge collapsed into Lance’s arms. “Lance…?” she murmured, her voice ragged.

“I’m here, Pidge.” How was this possible? He held her tightly against his chest, gently rubbing her back.

“I heard what you said.” Lance let go of Pidge in surprise. “About… you know. This.” She held out her left arm, where Lance’s soulmark still glowed brilliant blue.

“How, though? And how are you okay?”

Pidge shrugged. “Humans have had soulmates for thousands of years, but we still haven’t figured out much about what they can do. What we can do.”

“Hey, if it means my soulmate doesn’t have to spend several more quintants in a healing pod, I’m fine with that.”

Pidge shuffled her feet. “So, um… about the whole accidental soulbinding thing… we’re cool, right?” Like, you’re not still upset about mmmf!” She let out a startled noise as Lance shut her up with a kiss.

#night writes #plance #pidge #lance #soulmate au #with a twist #piano pidge #fluff #angst #side kallura #vld

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margarethelstone · 7 years

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She’s not my Soulmate [chapter IV]

One, final part. Can also be find on fanfiction.net

"Ever since we met, we've both known it was not meant to be," he said slowly, carefully weighing each of his words. "Nothing more than a friendship, that is. We could be friends, sure. We could have great time together, sure. But that was all. We compared our symbols at the first day, and there was absolutely no way they would match – yours looks like a tattoo, while mine is almost like a natural birthmark; yours is an outline, when mine is a quote. The symbol you're wearing on your wrist is purely Nordic – and the line under my collarbone is written in old French. Our marks couldn't be any more different – honestly, we would be insane to think there might me some sort of a connection between us. But I'm afraid that the last thing I am right now is sane.

"We've been friends for more than eight years now, laughing together, complaining together, standing by each other's side. I have learnt to care for you, like I never cared for anybody else; still, I knew I would never be allowed to love you differently, than as my friend, because no matter how hard I would try, I couldn't change the world we live in.

"I wasn't as tough as I thought, though, and there came a moment, when I had to admit to myself that I broke the rules, and fell for you. That it was no longer platonic, or sibling-like love – but what was worse, that it was not just some stupid crush I could ignore. My feelings had grown, and the truth is, they still are. Every second makes me more aware of how much you mean to me. I'm sorry if it makes you feel uncomfortable; but after all these years, you deserve to know the truth."

Astrid bit her lower lip, and Hiccup saw her doing it. He couldn't tell what she thought about his speech, except that he was almost sure she did not like it. He sighed. Once more, the heart he had almost managed to mend was breaking, falling apart into hundreds and hundreds of pieces, too small to be hoped to ever be brought together again.

However, he had no choice now. If he had found the courage to begin his confession, he had to find the strength to finish it.

"I would never have thought I'd be bold enough to tell you all this. It was always simple, almost painfully so: you were meant for someone else, and someone else was meant for you. I didn't know who that guy would be, except that he was the luckiest man on earth, but since it was not me, there had to be a reason for it. I couldn't imagine being happy with anyone but you – but it made no difference as long as I remembered that you would not be happy with me.

"And that's how it had been until this morning, when I talked to my mum, and she told me some things about her and Dad. You know, for me, there's only one couple that are greater than your parents – my own. For twenty three years I was sure it was because they were lucky to be in love with their soulmate from the very start. But my parents are not soulmates, Astrid; not in the way we were taught to see it. If there's a chance we could be half as happy together as they are, we will be fools not to give it a try."

He finished, almost as surprised as the girl who stood in front of him. Ten minutes earlier he hadn't had a clue what to say, and now he was delivering some huge, smart, oh-look-how-good-with-the-words-I-am speech. He hadn't intended to do it; if anything, he'd been scared he would get stuck after the first few sentences, unable to make an articulated sound.

But he meant it; and he could only hope she would understand.

It took Astrid a while to think it all over, furrowing slightly as she thought about a proper answer. She raised her sight eventually, and whispered, "How long?"

Hiccup shook his head, "It's hard to tell, really. It was so slow, so smooth, it was already done when I realised what was going on."

"When did you realise it, then?"

He made some calculations, "Eight months ago. Christmas. Your parents were abroad, and you came to spend it with us… I glanced at you and knew that I wanted every holiday to look like that. With you as a part of my family. As my family."

Astrid gritted her teeth as she listened, and Hiccup wasn't sure if it was pain or anger he saw in her eyes. He inhaled deeply, determined to make her speak.

"Astrid, I understand you may not like this. I don't expect -"

"I called Eret," she blurted out.

Hiccup froze.

He was too late.

Astrid saw his terrified expression, yet decided not to comment. Instead, she inhaled deeply, just like he had a few moments earlier, and finally loosening her self-embrace, she began to tell her own little story, "I told you I didn't know what to tell him, and that was true. As soon as you left, I went to bed, only to spend the night thinking of what I should say, or how to do it – it wasn't easy, but those few hours were enough to figure it out. He texted me about half past seven this morning, and I called him back. We talked for like, ten or fifteen minutes. I told him I was sorry for my behaviour yesterday, and that I'd like to make it up to him; of course he said there's no need for that. Either way, we're good now."

She smiled mildly, and brushed her blonde bangs away from her forehead. Hiccup could swear he saw her blushing. He felt a twist in his stomach, certain of where Astrid was heading, mentally kicking himself for being vain enough to think, that she could ever have him. He was ridiculous; his declaration was ridiculous.

Why, why had she let him say all this?

"I thanked him for his attention -" she went on, blind to the suffering that reflected all across her best friend's face "- but I said I couldn't accept it. He had offered me his heart, and was almost ready to offer me his hand as well – the problem is, I would never be able to return those feelings. Not when my heart belongs to someone else."

She didn't realise how wet her eyes were, until one of the tears escaped them, and she had to wipe it with her hand. She laughed shortly, with this kind of laugh which only appears when you cry. All of this felt surreal, but she couldn't force herself to dislike it.

Hiccup's eyes were wide with shock.

"And who would that be?" was everything he managed to stammer.

"You, idiot."

They still were standing so far away from each other, and yet, it suddenly felt like if there was no distance between them at all. The icy walls were melting, the imaginary obstacles were crumbling down, and it just felt right.

Astrid covered her mouth with her trembling hands, however, the gaze she gave him was so fond, so enthusiastic, that Hiccup was sure his legs would give way. He was grinning like an idiot, and he was aware of that; he shook his head in disbelief.

"How long, Astrid?"

"Eight months. Christmas."

He was staring at her for a short while, before slapping his hand against his face, crying out "Screw you, destiny!" and dashing towards her at the top speed. Next moment she was in his arms, openly crying into his neck, holding to him for dear life, while he was asking himself how on earth could they have wasted so much time.

"Good God, Hiccup, we were such fools."

"This world is foolish."

"This world is mad."

Yet she laughed anyway, tightening her grip on him, as if she was afraid he would let her go if she hadn't held him strongly enough. He leaned down, and kissed the soft skin on her neck. Astrid relaxed onto him, and finally, finally they were at peace.

It took a while before either of them was able – or willing – to speak; again, it was Astrid who first decided to say anything.

"It will be hard, won't it?" she asked, the last tones of anxiety playing in her voice. "I mean, we're literally risking everything."

"Nothing that's worth anything is easy -" he mumbled, smiling, brushing his lips against her cheek, "- but all we need is a little more of time. For example, you may be sure I won't propose after a month."

"Would you do that if we were soulmates? Propose after a month?"

"I would have done it on the New Year's Eve."

He tickled her, and she giggled, her sonorous voice resonating in the air.

"But you can still call Eret if you want."

"What on -"

"You know, in case you were having second thoughts."

"Okay, now I positively hate you."

"Nah. You love me."

She didn't answer immediately, pushing away only as much to look him in the eyes. He was still smiling, returning the glare – however, she couldn't miss the occasional glances he was casting at her lips. She rolled her eyes, only to see him grin ever more. She moved her hand from his neck and dipped her fingers in his hair, while her other hand found its way to his jaw.

"I do. I never thought I'd say it out loud, but I do love you, Hiccup Haddock."

"And I love you back, Astrid."

He pulled her closer, and leaned in, curious if she would move; she didn't.

"You were right about your parents, Ast -" he whispered against her mouth, letting their breaths intermingle. "They didn't get along because the universe told them to; it was their own goodwill and determination. And we have so much more than that."

He didn't have a chance to say anything else, as Astrid stood on her tiptoes, pressing her lips against his, and to be fair, he was more than willing to respond. And they stood like that, two young people, in the middle of a large library, melting into one another in a perfect harmony.

Hiccup knew their journey to happiness wouldn't be the easiest one; but if he was to take it with Astrid Hofferson by his side, he knew it would be the greatest adventure that could have ever happened to him.

Because she was his soulmate.

#hiccstrid #fanfiction #soulmate au #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #httyd

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capsicles-best-girl-blog · 7 years

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Chapter 1 Part 1 ,,My boys”

This is my very first imagine. I intend to create one, big and complete story with multiple threads in different timelines. In the future it will DEFINITELY involve more of the Avengers members. And some of them as a reader love interest. I will write fluff but also smut from time to time. Hope you enjoy it and let me know did you like it, what can I improve etc. Love ya! Warnings: Sorry for all the facts not fitting in with the comics reality but I prefer at least for the age (of Steve and James) the MCU version. Words: 1077 Summary: Introducing characters and their background.Bucky and Steve origins. Soon to be continued Some might say finding a soulmate is a blessing. What would they have to say about you finding two kindred spirits in one lifetime? That it’s not fair. Others often don’t get to meet theirs even once. So Y/N was a pretty lucky girl. But also yet to learn the price of that luck.

As you were drinking your everyday black tea a bright smile was placed on your face. Stroll down the memory lane happening in your head. Only 11 when you left Poland and came to America. Four years later the World War II broke out. Leaving was hard. But mama and papa knew what was best for their babygirl.

The family that took you in was more then you ever expected. They were loving and caring. Already great luck. And yeah... Brooklyn. Your new home. You chuckle remembering how anxious you were about going to school there. Language was no problem. But starting completly new life was and that scared the shit out of you. But They made it easy. And painless. And even enjoyable. These two companions you were just about to meet.

First day of new school and you got detention for beating the shit out of a guy twice your size. Did you help yourself with a big cane? That’s nobody’s business. *wink* The big deal is that you only did that to help this clumsy, lanky, blue-eyed boy. Thinking he was younger than you, you had to intervene when you saw a bulky boy abusing him. . When you finished with the big guy,breaking that big stick on his body, you reached out to the boy with the ocean eyes. He murmured: - I had him on the ropes. - I know. Just wanted to introduce myself with a bang. My name is Y/N and you are? - Steve. Nice to meet you. – the boy gets up quietly and slowly turns around. But while he’s at it you speak up a little discouraged and looking down at the ground: - Let me tell you, you have a great right hook! - Oh really? You think so? – he almost screams turning back, eyes all sparkly. You’ve gained his sympathy. - I do. And I know about this stuff. My cousin used to… Your speech was interrupted as a tall, muscular for his age boy approached you. He seemed worried. -Hi Stevie is everything alright? Did you get hurt? – brunette asked. - Noooo Bucky, it was nothing. Besides Y/N helped me out a little bit. - Yeah only a little – you said and then both of you chuckled. But the newcomer remained silent. - You know you can’t keep doing this. You’re like a brother to me and I just can’t let anything happen to you… As for such a young boy he created the impression of an adult well aware of his responsibilities. Feeling a bit unwanted your chicks started blushing and you’ve started backing away. - Hey aren’t you going to introduce yourself to my savior? You should be thankful that she kept your promise for you. – the blonde said to his friend tilting his head in your direction. - I’m sorry for being rude. I’m James but you can call me Bucky. – You could see the relief on his face after making sure his brother from another mother was in one piece. At that very moment you felt that the three of you are going to be best friends real soon. Little did you know. - I’m Y/N. And you’re welcome by the way! You all laughed and then spent the entire day together. They made you feel like home. And the next day. And the next one. And the day after that. That’s how you met the greatest human beings on the planet Earth and your best friends Steve and Bucky. The tea got cold because you were too occupied with remembering every detail of one of the greatest memories of your childhood. Happiness fulfilled you. But then your smile changed into a grin when your soon to be husband came into the kitchen. After being friends for many years you were lucky to finally call James Buchanan Barnes your fiance. What you two had was magical. Everyone saw that. Still... some said you were too young to understand love, marriage and commitment but during the WWII life was short and neither one of you wanted to blow the chance of having yours lived together. Deciding to wait with the marriage part, you still loved each other more then one could describe. James came into the kitchen in his military trousers and a white tank top, his dog tag waving from his neck. You loved the fact he had his tag engraved not only with his personal data but also yours “so he could always be brought back to you even in pieces” as he use to say. - Morning beautiful. – he laid a kiss on the top of your hair - Hi sleeping beauty. Did you get a good rest? – you asked brushing aside your cup. - Providing you didn’t let me fall asleep for half of the night? Awesome. Oooh cold tea – Bucky grabbed the cup from the table furrowing his eyebrows at your disgusted face. - What? - Nothing. I just don’t know how can you drink this hideous room temperature beverage. – you asked shaking your head with disapproval - Are you serious right now? You love tea! – James answers resting his hand on his hip.He always does that when he thinks you’re wrong. - Yeah but only when it’s HOT. Otherwise it’s just… ugh yucky. – you rolled your eyes as he drank the “tea” in one gulp. - You are something different, woman. – he looked at you with the most adoring look that warmed your heart. Both of you just smiled and stared into each other eyes for what it felt like eternity. Love was in the air. - It’s time for breakfast. - the most handsome soldier announced.

TBC

~ J.

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vixxscifiwritings · 7 years

Text

your words on my skin (2/2)

Characters - Ravi x OC AU- Soulmates verse Length - Twoshot Summary - In a world where the marks on your skin also show up on your soulmate’s, Wonshik feels conflicted about the consequences of getting a tattoo

Part 1

“I am going to get a dog! I haven’t told the others yet but I am going to get a dog!” Wonshik scribbles the moment he is out of the shop. It’s a cream coloured French bulldog. A tiny part of him wishes it was black but this puppy is adorable and as soon as he grows up a bit more, he can come home with Wonshik. And that is more than enough for him.

“Finally! Congratulations!” she scribbles back. Wonshik is so happy he does a mini dance on the street before his manager ushers him into the car waiting.

“And I will name him Butt!” he adds. The reply is almost instantaneous.

“Please no! That is such a perverted name!!! And it’s a boy?” she asks curiously.

“I like the name! I am keeping it!” he writes with a frown. The name is not that bad honestly but for the life of him he can’t figure out why no one else likes it. It’s so funny!

“And yup. It’s a baby boy!” he adds, answering the 2nd part.

“Suit yourself then. I am not going to call it Butt though. It needs a second name” she compromises.

“Bada$$. With the dollar signs. Pun intended. My baby will be a rockstar like me when he grows up” he boasts. Maybe he should wait till Butt is home to be boasting so confidently already. Heck he hasn’t even told Hakyeon or Hongbin and he tells them everything. But he already loves Butt and that should be enough to tell her.

“Haha cute. A nice name for a rapper. Is it a black bull dog like you always wanted?” she asks. She must be free, Wonshik notes. Then he remembers that she took a few days off work to shift houses.

“A French cream bulldog. They didn’t have black bulldogs anywhere ㅠ.ㅠ How is the move going?” he asks. He’s running out of space on his arm and wonders how she will reply.

“Fantastic.”

Wonshik snorts at the reply.

“I hate it!! I don’t have any body strength and all of it tires me out ㅠ.ㅠ” she replies on his other arm. He laughs when he sees the emoji because he knows she picked it up from him. It always makes him smile and it does now as well, till he notices a bruise on the inner side of his elbow.

When did he get this bruise? He didn’t hurt himself dancing. He tests it but doesn’t feel any pain. He sighs and scribbles to her.

“Did you get hurt carrying heavy things?” he asks her with a frown.

“You saw that? It’s nothing really. My books fell down from the top shelf because it was too high” she replies after a second.

“You should be more careful! Can’t you get someone taller and stronger to help you?” he grumbles.

“I’m fine! 164 cm isn’t short at all! And I am strong too! I packed everything away neatly!” she protests.

“If I was there I wouldn’t have let you do all this heavy work” he pouts.

“I have a strong chivalrous soulmate *_* It’s alright! I am a strong independent woman too!” she replies.

Wonshik frowns but has no more space to reply and he forgot to bring the moisturizer he normally uses to dissolve and wipe ink. His nerves are already jumpy from excitement and worry adds on to it.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he notices that the bruises fade after 2 days.

-x-

“Why do I own so many things!!!!”

The words appear in the middle of an interview and Wonshik chuckles. He can’t reply but he already knows that today must be moving day because there are small cheers written all over his arm for strength to move the heavy stuff around.

And her name.

It’s a careless mistake really. It’s part of a slogan scribbled on his wrist and carefully covered under his watch. But now Wonshik knows her name and it sounds so foreign on his tongue. He stands in the bathroom for an extra minute, reading it and saying it to himself till Sanghyuk kicks him out.

He wishes he could help her. But he enjoys the frustrating messages that randomly pop up. The makeup artist sympathizes with his soulmate as she covers up the words on his skin. Wonshik smiles to himself, imagining her being embarrassed should she ever come to know that all of Jelpi now knows that she hates moving.

“Should I come over and help you out?” he asks as soon as filming gets over.

It’s been on his mind forever. It’s been seven years since they know each other. It’s going to be five years since his debut. He is an established artist now and doesn’t have the same pressure about his reputation. His soulmate is done with her graduation and is well settled with a job she likes.

Maybe it is time?

Yet they never talk about meeting. This routine is comfortable. Safe. But he yearns for more.

“I finished shifting the boxes around. I will unpack them tomorrow” she writes back. “But I would love you forever if you brought me dumplings now”

Wonshik doesn’t know if he wants to sigh or laugh. How had he forgotten that she loves dumplings? Of course she is thinking about food. It’s late in the afternoon. Did she skip lunch? She definitely did not eat breakfast. Gaaah. Why is she like this?

“Address? I am coming over and I am bringing food along” he writes.

“Is there a dumpling shop nearby?” he asks the production crew. They work at this studio often and would know the food places around.

“There’s one down the main road from here. It gets crowded at this time but the sweet and sour pork bun is worth the wait” the assistant director tells him.

“Which is why we aren’t losing weight” the director grumbles and everyone laughs.

“Are you suddenly craving dumplings?” Hongbin asks.

“Maybe” he says, distracted by the reply.

“I was just joking…” she replies.

Wonshik hesitates. It dawns on him that she doesn’t feel the same. The smile on his face is gone. Was he too forward? Did he make her uncomfortable?

Has he ruined everything?

“Besides, aren’t you busy? Will you be able to come over?” she asks after a moment. “My place is essentially boxes and a plastic wrapped couch. You’ll hate it.”

“I didn’t expect you to complain all day about moving and then magically finish it one day”

“I resent how that assumption is hundred percent true” she replies. Wonshik laughs as the address appears below it. This place is two blocks away from the dorm.

“I think we should get dumplings for two” Hongbin says as he peers over Wonshik’s shoulder. Wonshik swats him away while blushing and the female staff coo when the makeup artist pipes up and asks if he is going to visit his soulmate now.

-x-

Wonshik checks the flat number and double checks it again. The writing on his hand is starting to fade but he is sure this is the place. He should ring the bell.

He can’t bring himself to. Any courage fueled by spur of the moment decisions has faded, leaving him anxious. When he finally does ring the doorbell, it is because of half hearted concern that the dumplings will taste bad when cold and she probably does not have a microwave set up.

She opens the door and Wonshik starts, greeting her formally out of nervousness. When he straightens up again, she stares. Wonshik stares too. Her hair is wavy and wet and her skin glows. He catches the scent of green apple, which he remembers is her favourite body wash from the brand she likes. Her eyes are brown and wide.

She shuts the door with a bang. Wonshik blinks. He has no idea what just happened.

“Haneul?” he calls out uncertainly. He knocks on the door, calling out to her gently.

“I never told you my name” she tells him through the intercom. “How did you know?”

“You wrote it on your arm. I found it this morning” he tells her.

The door opens again. Slower this time and Wonshik finds himself face to face with her.

“Sorry” Haneul apologizes.

“It must have taken you by shock” he laughs sheepishly.

“I expected this but I also didn’t know what to expect” she confesses. Wonshik raises an eyebrow.

“I knew who you were. The lyrics were a give away” she admits.

“I should have been more careful” Wonshik frowns.

“Yes! But I would eventually come to know” Haneul shrugs.

“Anyways, I brought dumplings along” he says holding up the takeout containers for truce.

“I love you already. Come on in. Watch your step though. There are boxes everywhere” she tells him.

“You’ve reminded me twenty times already today” he teases as he navigates through the room. When he looks up from the floor, he falls a little in love with the way Haneul pouts and glares.

“Were you in the middle of filming?” Haneul asks guiltily when she notices his outfit. It’s a purple satin shirt paired with ripped skinny black pants. Wonshik is sure he still has eyeliner on too.

“We were done for the day when I wrote back to you” he tells her truthfully.

“Sorry. I’ll just get the food out” she apologizes as she takes the food from him.

“I’m here because I wanted to come” he assures her.

“I thought you were joking about that, you know? You are an idol after all. I didn’t expect you to agree” Haneul tells him.

“And also, I swear I thought I would be better dressed for our first meeting” she says, looking down at her denim shorts and blue t-shirt ruefully.

“I think you look pretty” Wonshik says. Both of them blush together and Haneul busies herself in getting the dumplings out while Wonshik fiddles with the sauce packets. His heart races and he is very sure he will die of arrhythmia today. He glances at Haneul who is steadfastly avoiding looking at him and he looks away.

“So uh… what is VIXX up to these days? Do you guys have anything planned now that Bomb promotions are over?” she asks, making conversation. The silence is awkward and Wonshik is happy to escape his own thoughts.

“The usual stuff. Variety show appearances, musicals, web dramas. We might work on an album soon but nothing’s confirmed yet” he replies, careful not to give spoilers away.

“Oh oh oh. When will Butt come home?” Haneul asks excitedly. Wonshik grins and pulls out his phone.

“In two days! The person who is caring for him now sent the cutest pictures ever this morning!” he tells her excitedly.

“Show me!” Haneul says, clapping her hands together. She moves closer to Wonshik and the pair lean against the counter as he flicks through the folder he has made specially for his puppy.

“He is so cute” she sighs, leaning on his shoulder. Wonshik hums in agreement and puts his arm around her, letting her take his phone and swipe through the folder. She’s short enough for him to place his chin on her head. She fits in like a puzzle piece and Wonshik feels warmth grow in his chest.

“I hate you tall people” she grumbles. Wonshik notices that she doesn’t move away and he counts it as a small victory.

“The dumplings will get cold” she tells him awkwardly. “Let’s eat first” he suggests.

This sort of intimacy is unnatural. They understand each other in a way that others won’t. But to be physically present in the here and now will take getting used to.

Texting will probably replace the writing on his arms. Perhaps, Haneul will doodle on his tattoos on his skin and not her own reflection of it. Late night conversations in his studio might take place with both of them present. Arguments about Butt’s name might be replaced by which parent spoils him more and why they should or shouldn’t.

Wonshik sees a future with his soulmate the way he always has. Except now he has a face and a name to go with it

-The End -

#vixx ravi #soulmates au #vixx fanfiction #drabbles #writing

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jae-bummer · 7 years

Text

Second Chances (J-Hope SoulMate AU)

Request: 2 WITH HOSEOK PLEASEEERREKDJFJDJSJSNDJKDNSNDKFKDNENFKXN

2) “How long have you known?”

Prompt list can be found here!

Member: BTS J-Hope x Y/N

Type: angst

You kicked your legs back and forth, launching forward and back on the small swing set meant for someone half of your age. The wind felt oddly soothing on your tear stained cheeks, but not soothing enough to stop the actual tears from falling. You sniffed, your knuckles wrapped tight around the chains holding the seat in place. Reality was finally beginning to hit you.

“How long have you known?” a voice equally as upset as yours croaked just behind your back.

You didn’t have to turn around to know who the voice belonged to. You slowly stopped your legs from kicking, allowing them to flop in the air and eventually halt all motion on the swing set. Your tennis shoes skid in the gravelly play area, bringing you to a complete stop. You hung your head, sniffing again.

“Since the moment I met you,” you whispered.

The evolution of the human race has been one of the most inconvenient situations of your life. You were taught from a young age that you were blessed to live in a society that had such a strong idea of soul mates. In ancient times, individuals would wander around, hoping to find love, and never knowing for sure if the person they were with was “the one.” In today’s day and age, all you had to do was look down at your wrist, the constant reminder that there was someone out there that the world wanted you to be with. It was fate. It was destiny.

And it left a sour taste in your mouth.

When you moved to Korea, your parents had high hopes. They knew you hadn’t found your soul mate yet. Someone on the earth was quietly existing with the same birthmark on their wrist that you had. Someone you had never met and weren’t entirely sure you ever wanted to.

You didn’t like the idea of constraint and were one of the most noncommittal people you had ever known. You had looked upon friends, ones who had found their other half, and wondered how they did it. You envied those you had classes with, who after years of searching their own bodies, came to the conclusion they were not given a birthmark. You couldn’t imagine the freedom they had to have felt. The relief.

So as your parents waved you off in the airport terminal, hoping this move would launch your life in more ways than one, you rubbed a thumb over your wrist, smiling bitterly to yourself.

Getting your birthmark removed was an extremely taboo action. As you stepped into the dark, little shop, known among the underground in Korea for it’s birthmark removal, you couldn’t shake the nerves. It was relatively painful, but you tried to revel in it. You wanted to mildly punish yourself, masochistically suffer for leaving someone on earth all alone. You tried to remind yourself that this was your life, and you were done putting someone else first. Even if destiny hadn’t intended for it to be that way.

A few months after ridding yourself of that ugly, red smudge, you had finally gotten used to your naked skin. You felt an invisible weight lifted from your shoulders, focusing more on what made you happy instead of searching others bodies around you, wondering if they were “the one.”

The day was as ordinary as any other, a slight rain hitting the streets of Seoul when you decided to take that hip hop class you had always put off. You stumbled into the building, taking a seat on the hardwood and settled in to the small crowd of people around you. You felt warm and comfortable as you looked around, the smiles of your fellow dancers confirming that you had made the right decision.

That was until he walked in. He was easily one of the most gorgeous people you had ever seen. His hair cascaded over his forehead in the style of smooth bangs. His eyes were constantly hidden as his face was always smiling, his high cheekbones turning his eyes into crescents, smiling all on their own. His reputation proceeded him as the best dancer in the class. You had assumed that with that kind of reputation, most of the other dancers would feel uneasy around him, but instead, everyone was incredibly at ease. Not only was he handsome and talented, but also kind.

“You’re new,” he smiled, plopping directly in front of you without visiting anyone else in the room. “I’m Hoseok, my friends call me Hobi.”

“I’m Y/N,” you had nodded. You stuck out your hand for him to shake, instantly wincing at your extremely Western greeting. Hoseok took it in stride, reaching out to grab you hand and give it a strong shake. You caught your breath for a moment as his arm began to return to his lap.

Your birthmark.

Well, his birthmark. It wasn’t yours anymore.

You felt sick to your stomach. Maybe there was more than one person out there with the same markings. Maybe it wasn’t exactly the same. Maybe it was a tattoo he had gotten on his own.

“Oh, what’s that?” you questioned, trying to hide the trembling in your voice. You motioned to his wrist with a short nod.

“Ah, my birthmark,” he chuckled, rubbing his fingers over it fondly. “I kinda wish it was in a cooler shape...but I’m okay with it. It gives me hope.”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those softies who believes in true love,” you laughed uneasily.

“Absolutely!” he gasped. “Whenever I find someone with the same birthmark as me, it’s the end game! I’m going to treat them like they are a beautiful flower. Which I’m sure they are if they’re my soul mate.”

You nodded, biting your lip. For a moment, you thought you may begin to cry. You began stacking up the brick wall around your heart. You couldn’t under any circumstances let Hoseok in. You had made your decision and you were going to stick to it.

“Where’s your birthmark?” Hoseok grinned. “Doesn’t happen to be on your wrist, does it?”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You thrust both wrists upwards toward him and sighed. You closed your eyes for a moment and swallowed before you could verbalize anything. “I was born without one.”

“How could you?” Hoseok whimpered, glued to his spot behind you.

“I thought it would be easier this way,” you whispered, hissing the words. They stung coming out of your mouth. You couldn’t believe you had placed such hurt on the man who was meant to be your soul mate.

“Easier? In what universe could this have been easier?” Hoseok cried. He stumbled forward to stand in front of you, forcing you to see his puffy face, angry and red from crying. “You could’ve told me, you know. I would have understood.”

“I didn’t know what I wanted,” you croaked. You were lying. You knew exactly what you wanted when you met Hobi. You wanted him, but were too scared. Too scared to admit what you had done. Too scared that he would reject you if he didn’t believe your story.

“Well, I did!” he gasped. “And it wasn’t fair to take it away from me, Y/N. It was actually really shitty.”

A few moments of silence passed between you, only sniffling being exchanged as you both kept a safe distance from each other.

“How did you find out?” you whispered, breaking the awkward air.

“Namjoon,” Hoseok said bitterly. “Well, not really Namjoon. From you.”

You hiccuped, looking up at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“I know you two are close,” he grumbled, kicking at the gravel by his feet. “Namjoon wasn’t born with a birthmark. We all helped him look one day...searching every inch of skin for even the smallest imperfection in a freckle, but you knew that. That’s why you were talking to him about it. That’s when he asked you if you two should just chalk up your losses and become your own makeshift soul mates...and that’s when you told him...you told him about your birthmark removal.”

Hoseok paused, letting a silent cry rip through him. He moved his sleeves across his cheekbones and sighed before continuing.

“You told him you had found your soul mate already.”

“Hoseok,” you whimpered, biting your lip. Your whole face felt numb. It had been so soaked with tears for so long that you felt like a wrinkled prune. Whether Namjoon had told Hobi himself or Hobi had overheard the discussion, you were left feeling like a fool.

“Why couldn’t you tell me?” Hoseok moaned. “You knew how badly I wanted it. You knew how badly I wanted it to be you.”

“You wouldn’t have believed me!” you gasped. “You would have thought I was just telling you what you wanted to hear...and -”

“It’s okay to admit you were scared,” he said, cutting you off. It was as if he was reading your mind. Then again you wouldn’t be surprised if that was another dark perk to having a soul mate. “I would have understood.”

“But now?” you whispered. Your worst fear crossed your mind for only a moment. What if Hobi wanted to get his birthmark removed as well?

“But now...everything hurts,” Hoseok whispered. “My head, my heart, my lungs...I ache with the years that I didn’t know...but...but in that same ache is a bitter want. I still...I still want you?”

You sat in shock, unsure if you had heard his words correctly. You hadn’t known why, but you had assumed Hoseok would never forgive you. After some of the boys in the dorm gave you the head’s up that Hobi knew, you had isolated yourself, crying over your loss. It was if he had died because you assumed he would never trust you again.

You should have known better. You had known him long enough to know how kind and delicate he was. Of course he was forgiving. He was sunshine and pure goodness. You didn’t deserve him.

“You...you want me?” you stuttered. “Still?”

“Since the moment I saw this birth mark on my wrist,” Hoseok sniffed. “My mom would tell me stories about great loves. She would tell me about how her and my dad had found each other. I was so excited to find my own story, Y/N. To find out that you were my story after all this time...I can’t just give that up. I’ve never known either of us to quit anything.”

You stood, slowly closing the gap between you and Hoseok. Your hands were shaking as they reached up to rest on his chest. You put a slight pressure on his sweater, making sure he was really there and this wasn’t all just the product of mass emotion and a hyperactive imagination. “I’m so sorry, Hoseok.”

“It’s going to take me a little time to get over,” he nodded, cracking the first small smile you had seen in days. “But I will. You know I’m an advocate for second chances.”

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3one3 · 7 years

Text

The Sequel - 838

Vuelve Conmigo

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“What is it that you like about the song?”

“I dunn-“ Breathe. “How it...it makes me feel.”

“How does it make you feel?”

“High.” If only I...could make out the words. “But not like high on coke high. Like how I imagine taking Ecstasy is.”

“How is that? What do you imagine?”

“Like feeling only good things, and feeling open to...fully feel emotions, and...ready for...”

“Ready for what, baby girl?”

Anything, Christina replied in her head instead of aloud so Juan might hear it. She was afraid it would come out jarbled with a quiet squeal, or groan of sorts. They were listening to that “Sangai Dance” song from Brody’s, which she still hadn’t been able to get any more information about. She couldn’t even find a place to download it. She had to convert the YouTube video to mp3 and add it to iTunes that way. The words were impossible to figure out for sure too. Sometimes it sounded like “awesome drugs, baby” and on others it could have been “brought some drugs, baby”, and that was just the first line. The lyrics didn’t matter as much as the instrumentals, and the mood it put her in. The rider picked it for when she and her friend went to her room for the night, and shut the door for the night, and plugged in their phones for the night. She picked it to play on the Bang & Olufson stereo dock next to the candles on the desk built into the port side of the room. Georgina made her swear on her life that she would remember to blow them out before going to sleep. They combined with the recessed mini-LED’s in two big sections of the ceiling to illuminate the room in a soft glow that concealed little but still gave the feeling of darkness, or the absence of harsh light.

“Tell me,” Juan urged between formless kisses around her side, her hip, the outside of her thigh, and part of her chest. He was sitting near the headboard with his legs out, but quite hunched over in order to explore with his lips the body lying across his lap. That body was half curled up and half stretched languidly. Her legs were folded and drawn up. Her arms draped over and above her head with no design or purpose. That nightgown she told him made her feel sexy was mostly gathered up above her waist. It was just a little black cotton number that was supportive enough on top to smoosh her cleavage up and together, and loose enough everywhere else to be moved out of the way of the lips that wanted skin instead of jersey. Really, the Spaniard’s hands wanted that too. They roamed all over- caressing, tapping, rubbing, pinching, kneading. Christina was somewhat overwhelmed by their efforts and those of his lips too.

It was a different kind of overwhelmed than it used to be. He used to overwhelm her to the point of discomfort, so that she was borderline afraid of what would happen next, and anxious, but always willing to try to believe that he knew what he was doing and whatever came of his intentions, she would ultimately enjoy it, and feel thankful to him for pushing her limits. There was a rush in that. There was a manageable amount of unpleasantness, and then a rush. It felt like something she shouldn’t like though, and it plagued her mind at times. She wanted to understand why Juan knew exactly how he could go past her boundaries and not inflict too much damage, and how he knew when he could do that, and exactly how to do it, and how he trusted himself to know that he wouldn’t ruin anything between them- how he understood their sexual chemistry so much more succinctly than she did.

The anxiety was gone. More significantly, there was an assurance within the rider that it wouldn’t reappear. All she was overwhelmed by was a sense that there were a lot of vibrant emotions available to be experienced. Her nerves and receptors had been feeling a little dull for a long time, as if they were incapable of fully feeling anything at the maximum amount. She felt an inherent numbness, particularly to really positive things. Christina even thought some of her nerves must have been completely shut down, and that that was why she lacked the sense of calm she believed André provided for her, and why she just couldn’t get it together in the saddle to produce the kinds of performances to which she’d become accustomed. What pest arrived to do the damage- to eat away at the bits meant to take in a feeling, and the bits meant to translate it for her into something she experienced- she knew not. She wasn’t even sure what the pesticide was that stopped the infestation, but she was pretty confident that the player in bed with her was the fertilizer that catalyzed re-growth, and gave her the ability to feel things at their maximum again.

What she felt at its max just then was calmness of consciousness and excitement of body. Juan’s handling of her body, and before that, the way he kissed back when she lay atop him and wouldn’t take her mouth off his, was so nonchalant and easy that his friend thought they must have crossed some kind of invisible threshold in their relationship that she stepped over with André a long time ago- the one between lovers and whatever came after that- whatever the physical version of soulmates would be. Her body was his to treat as his own- to touch or manipulate however he wanted, without any pushback from her. Christina didn’t worry about how she looked, how any part of her might have felt to him, what reaction any touch might garner, which sounds she made, or that anything would hurt, and it was true in reverse too. She felt fully entitled to do anything she wanted, and touch the player however she wanted. The song and the intent kept it all from getting too casual though- from feeling like a couple just lounging around in a way one would call intimately but which lacked intimacy, like the way Christina might unceremoniously and thoughtlessly clamber over her husband to get to the bathroom sooner instead of getting out of her side of the bed and walking a little farther. The song really did make her feel a kind of high. It added drama. It elevated. She knew the buzz was going to grow whenever they got around to having actual sex too, or got back into the kinds of touching they began during all the earlier kissing. So her mind was quiet and relaxed, and her skin- at her neck, her inner thigh, her hip, her navel- was alive and readied for anything.

“Chris?”

“Wha?”

“You didn’t answer,” The Chelsea man chuckled, temporarily taking a break from his little kisses on her ribs to lean over and move his lips up her jaw line instead.

“What was the question?” She gently closed her right fist in the hair at the top of her head, savoring the migration of pleasing tickle sensations from her middle up to her face. The loving pecks at her jaw made her smile, because it was like Juan couldn’t help himself, and because he too wore a grin.

“What are you ready for?”

“Anything!” she exclaimed with that growing smile. “It’s wonderful.” He needs to feel wonderful too, and not just smiley and happy, Christina added. She navigated her left arm between her back and the player’s tipped over front. While he was busy literally tracing the outline of her raven tattoo with the tip of his tongue, she felt around in his lap for something to wrap her hand around. She started with the inside of his thigh, high up, where he was still very white instead of getting tan. He’d done some shaving in anticipation of sunbathing with his bikini modeling friend, but not there. She opened and closed her fingers slowly and passively, and played with a bit of hair with the tip of just her pointer.

“Did you take your bra off when you got this tattoo?” he questioned quizzically as if it had never occurred to him before.

“No. I was half naked though. I had one of Lex’s dresses on and I didn’t want it to be damaged, so they gave me a t-shirt to wear. Obviously I didn’t have any pants.”

“You never have any pants.” Juan half-heartedly smacked her butt, and instead of pulling his hand away, left it there to squeeze and shake some of it. He also sat up straight and took it upon himself to relocate her hand from his thigh to a more stimulating place in the same neighborhood.

“Do you want me to put some on?”

“No. I would like for you to take the nightgown off- not that I don’t like it. Does it go over your head or?” He left her hand to move up and down on him on its own, and put his on her shoulder to pull at one of the dainty spaghetti straps of her nightgown.

“Yes it’s an over-the-head deal. Here.” Christina abandoned his dick to sit upright in front of him and lifted her arms straight up so that he could take the minimal black fabric off for her. As soon as it was gone, her left hand returned to his lap, and she bent over to use her tongue and her mouth too. How can I make this last all night? No double entendre intended. I don’t mean this, she clarified to herself while lapping at the underside and dragging her thumb and forefinger up from the base in a tight ring. I know he gets off and gets hard again like immediately sometimes. I mean the whole thing. I just wanna fool around with him for the whole night. I have to ride at 8 in the morning though. She sat up again, and rested her hands on the tops of the player’s shoulders. “I’m pretty sure you can do anything for me, so I’m gonna need you to manufacture some extra hours tonight,” she explained. Her head was tilted a little, and despite kind of laughing at herself on the inside, her bottom lip was tucked up under her teeth contemplatively, and she squeezed his shirt in her fingers enough that it tugged his short sleeves up and showed off some skin whiter than the shirt. Juan looked all around her face for a second and then just about dove for her neck. His nose and his lips landed at the same time, and luckily his arms closed around her at the same time too or she would have fallen over. There was both desire and relief in it.

“Angel,” the Spaniard muttered with his nose pressed by her ear and his lips tickling underneath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“El tiempo no pasa lento...”

“Nunca lo hace cuando estoy contigo. Sólo aparte.” He sighed heavily and slid a hand up her left cheek and into her hair, where it grabbed almost aggressively at her still dark roots. He smooched her square on the mouth too, and rubbed the side of her nose with his. The mood had turned serious on them out of nowhere. “Vuelve conmigo.”

“Back where?” What does he mean, the lesser of the two stars wondered absently, focused more on how his possessive grip on her made her feel, and how much she wanted him to keep kissing her instead of teasing with his mouth so close to her lips. Is there some interpretation of that verb that I don’t know? Back where? Return with him where? Ohhhh does he think I like mentally checked out? Because I was complaining about the time going too quickly? That’s like...he and Schü both keep telling me to stop worrying about the next thing or 10 things from now and enjoy the thing currently happening.

“Nowhere.”

“K.” Christina smiled and assumed she was right even though it didn’t necessarily feel that way. She kneaded the side and back of her friend’s neck and took her chance to kiss him rather than waiting on him to decide to do it. Her baby pink smackers smooshed into his in a glorified peck, spread wide in a smile, and then tried their best to come together again for a proper kiss. It was just really hard not to wear a big goofy smirk once she really did commit to enjoying the moment. It was suddenly really easy to convince herself that her assumption was right, and that it was perfectly fine to ignore the instinct that it was wrong. Soon her favorite number-10’s hand made its way all the way round to the back of her head, where it could help to keep her close enough to maul with his tongue. Holding her head up was kind of pointless because the rest of her body was gradually moving backward anyway, and obviously taking him with her. At some point he realized he was having to lean all the way over to keep making out with her, and let her just lie down instead, on her back.

“Hable conmigo más en español.”

“About what? I have nothing to say. I’m trying to make noises, Juanin, not words,” Christina sassed while she waited to see what he wanted to do next besides lie next to her and play with her nipple.

“Todos,” Juan shrugged, matching her expression.

“Súbeme la radio que esta es mi canción.”

“Not Enrique Iglesias song lyrics.” It switched to feigned dismissal and scolding, but that couldn’t last. What he wanted to do next was kneel on top of her, and he did. By the time he looked down from above her head, which he kind of cradled in his forearms, his expression was just adoring. His eyes were happy.

“What if they’re better ones?”

“No.”

“Not even...what is it...” The Germany star’s brows pinched together while she pretended to search her memory for another line. “No sé vivir sin ti?”

“Do you even know what that means, baby girl?”

“Duh. I mean it, too. Kiss me.”

“Ah?” One of Juan’s brows lifted as he showed her he wanted her to reply in Spanish only.

“Bésame,” she giggled. “Bésame muchooooooo. That’s a song too.” Her tongue poked out just a little and then all the way, to wag at him teasingly. She’d just told him she didn’t know how to live without him, which was probably a more significant tease, really, but she hadn’t given him time to show her that, or given an opportunity. It wasn’t a conscious move on her part to just say “kiss me” instead of getting into something more serious about it. She could have looked up at him all needing and solemn and expounded on her inability to live without him. Perhaps it would have happened if she didn’t feel that high, and that receptiveness to wholly experience positive feelings. Being ready for positive apparently helped to block out the negative. For all the good things Juan had to offer, not being able to live without him was, for her, a thing fraught with negatives. It was condemnation to purgatory between players, purgatory for him between private partnership and public loneliness, and purgatory for her career as it suffered between both of those things.

“Do the sexy-innocent voice,” Juan demanded after obliging with the kiss.

“I caaaan’t. It just happens. You have to make me do it,” his girl smirked.

“Pfft.”

“Also, you should go put a playlist on my phone. I think this song has played like 40 times now.”

“You are so lazy.”

“How am I supposed to get up and do it? You’re sitting on me.”

“What do you want to listen to?”

“You mumbling stuff while I “ride” you.” Christina made air quotes and everything. Being completely at ease with any bedroom vocabulary was new too.

“Can I just turn the music off then?”

“Yes.”

The Spaniard kissed her forehead and hopped off her hips to take her phone off the stereo dock. She got up while he was gone, and tried to comb and fluff her hair a little. She also explored between her legs with her fingers. He’d been ignoring that area for a while, but his hand joined hers there the second he returned to the bed, next to where she was kneeling. His middle finger navigated between her smaller digits, and he kind of shook it side to side. That’s nice, she thought idly for just a second before shoving him in the shoulders so that he’d sit. She sat too, right in his lap, and found herself in a hug. She liked it when he couldn’t keep his hands off her, and just wanted to be as close as possible. They had a lot of closeness to catch up on, and she’d be asking herself repeatedly why they waited two nights to get to work on that. It had something to do with the fact that they were supposed to be friends, not lovers, or partners. While Juan rubbed her back, the rider rubbed herself on him. Her hips rolled against him, and she wasn’t really sure if she was trying to tease him or herself. He was the one who got tired of it first though, and he reached down to guide himself into her. Christina sunk down and crossed her arms behind his head, just getting used to the feeling. She kissed at his cheek, and rocked forward a bit. He let go first, only to grab a hold of her butt instead, and pull it apart, and squeeze it, and lift it. When she let go, she tapped her fingers on his shoulders to show him she wanted him to lie back.

He looks so hot like this, she commented to herself, waiting for him to get completely flat so she could put her palms flat on his chest. With his arm behind his head, like he’s just relaxing on the couch and I’m just using his body for myself. But he always makes sure he’s still touching me somehow. There’s always a connection. I mean, besides his dick inside me. With a contented little sigh, Christina began moving her hips more. She lifted up, she moved them front to back, and occasionally around in a circle, sometimes while she leaned on him and sometimes sitting straight up and holding onto her breasts so they wouldn’t bounce so much. Juan rubbed her thigh, or put his palm flat on her tummy, or pushed it against her pubic bone and used his thumb to try to rub at her clit, calm and loving blue eyes always watching her. The only time he stopped touching her was when she grabbed his hand to guide some of his fingers into her mouth. She licked the pads and filled her mouth with saliva so that when she took them out again they were all wet and slimy, and so that they felt amazing when she then deposited them on the freshly waxed skin in her bikini area.

“You want help, baby girl, or not yet?”

“Not yet.” I said I wanna do this for the whole night, didn’t I? Or did I only say it in my head? Whatever. The expat lifted up and off her favorite creator and bent in half to get some more kisses. I can nap tomorrow. Stef can survive on her own.

“You’re all red.” The Spanish player spread a hand wide and rubbed around the base of her neck when she gave him a chance to breathe. The contact left white prints in her skin for half a second.

“You’re not. You didn’t make my sounds either.” Christina pretended to pout. It was difficult. Her lips only wanted to smile.

“You didn’t make my sounds either. I do when you do.”

“Oh is that how this works?”

“Yes. Why are you so patient tonight, hmm? Or are you just lazy?”

“I don’t want to get to the end of this. I get off and then I can’t move for a minute, and then you’re like “okay my turn,” and then I cum again in the process of you doing it too, and then we’re both exhausted and we go to bed and that’s it. I want way more kissing and fondling and stuff than that.”

“Baaabyyy,” Juan replied in almost singsong way. He was still touching her neck, and her cheek. “I- I don’t get you.” His stubbly face shook side to side but there was no evidence of frustration or confusion in his face. His eyes were still taking all of her face in, inside the curtains of hair. “And it’s not “it” until we want it to be.”

“What don’t you get?”

“Doesn’t matter. I get what you want right now. I want, too. I don’t want to stop with you. We don’t have to draw anything out though. If it feels good then keep doing it. We do again and again. You always have to worry a step ahead. All you have to do is say you want more, and I give you more.” The player was soft-spoken and calm and without intensity. It wasn’t one of those accidentally condescending lectures he delivered that inadvertently made Christina feel foolish or immature for not thinking the right way in the first place, and he wasn’t being cocky and trying to say he could go all night for her anything like that. He wasn’t talking about sexual prowess.

She understood his words to mean that he would try to give her anything she asked for, and understood that as more a matter of emotional capital than physical. He was saying something André used to say to her all the time, which was that all she needed to do was tell him what she wanted or needed and he would do his best to deliver, regardless of what it was, or what kind of thing it was, or what it meant. She always believed André when he said that. She believed Juan when he said it in the present. She wasn’t sure if she’d definitely believe André in the same moment, because he had proven incapable of delivering a few times even when she made her needs expressly clear. Thinking about that juxtaposition made her a little sad, and her best friend spotted the sadness creeping into her cornflower blues.

“What?” he asked, reaching for her side. She was still straddling his waist, more or less. “What’s not right?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t say “nothing”. Just tell me.”

“You said “nothing” to me before, and you said “never mind” just now. You first,” Christina challenged. Then I don’t have to tell you I’m thinking about Schü while your dick is touching my butt.

“I don’t even remember what I said that about earlier, and I said “never mind” because what I don’t understand is- It’s-“ The Chelsea man sighed and let go of her neck to scratch his own chin. “I don’t understand how you say the things you do and then act in the opposite way. I don’t understand how you say you can’t live without me, and the thing that makes you happiest is being close with me, and you want to spend the whole night kissing and fucking, and then you go back to your other life, with someone else. I will never get that- Why you won’t just be with me if those things are true. But I don’t want to have this talk again. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want you thinking about it. I just want to enjoy, and I want you to enjoy, like we were.”

“Okay. I...don’t want to have that talk now either.” His ex-girlfriend shook her head quickly and without a lot of actual movement, and then bent all the way down to kiss the middle of his chest. The somewhat recently shaved hair there pricked at her lips through his tee.

“What were you thinking about that upset you just now?”

“The same thing, pretty much. Forget it. Just-“ I was gonna say just let me make you smile and then I’ll smile again too, but this is good as well, she chuckled inside when he lifted his head off a pillow to reignite the kissing obsession. Catching her mid-sentence meant her bottom lip was literally caught, and she felt silly, like it was awkwardly hanging out in the middle of the action, getting in the way. It obstructed Juan’s tongue too, and he battled against it for a few seconds before giving up and laughing. “That was like when I get too drunk to successfully operate my own mouth.”

“Do you want to lie over here and I operate my mouth on your pussy?” he inquired as if to ask the time of day. Christina nodded her head emphatically, and a petit smile returned to her face. His abandoned pillow was flipped over to the cool side for her and she settled in with one foot flat on the mattress and the other in his shoulder when his head appeared between her legs. All the positivity came back quickly, in part because Juan showed no deference to her will to make the experience with him last all night. He used his tongue and fingers like the mission was to get her off as quickly as possible. The concept of “settled” was short lived. He had her constantly moving in a few minutes, and eventually her body was twisted such that her right leg was on the left side of the player and her left leg was on the right. Juan was sure to straighten that all out and told her to “behave” before he centered his efforts on scissoring two fingers around her clit to make her finally finish. He said he wanted to see her face, and he couldn’t do that if she was half turned over and burying it into the pillow. His face was smirking at her when she opened her eyes. He’d been spreading the fruits of his labor around like a kid playing with finger paint, and then patted the wet and sticky area with the flat of his palm.

“Stop iiiiiit,” Christina whined. It would be cute that he so enjoys playing with my vagina if it didn’t also make my twitch violently.

“I believe the words you’re looking for are “thank you”.”

“Thank you, but stop it. For now,” she hastened to add. The Spaniard kissed a little further up her pubic bone and then crawled up her body on his hands and knees until he was close enough to feed her his waning hard-on. For once, she had no sassy comment, no objection, no sarcasm. She just opened her mouth and lifted her eyes to meet his.

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