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laundrybiscuits · 9 months

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(soulmates AU continued from Part 1)

Eddie has a blotchy, uneven blob on his wrist.

His jacket sleeve had been covering it up every time Steve had seen him in that long, terrible week, so when they’re finally let into his hospital room, Steve can’t help the way his face twists in surprise. He’s never heard of anyone with that kind of soulmark before.

Luckily, Eddie doesn’t seem to notice Steve gawking. He’s cuffed to the bed and he looks so breakable in his thin hospital gown, blinking blearily at them before his gaze slides away again.

“Hi, Eddie,” says Nancy.

Eddie’s mouth twitches up into what could be a smile before he winces. Half of his face is wrapped in big white bandages.

It’s strange to see everything around him in whites and greys and pale blues. He looks more out of place here than he had in the Upside Down.

“Hey,” he rasps. “Y’here for Red?”

“Yes, we are,” Nancy says, crossing to his side. “And we’re here for you too. How are you feeling?”

“Like…what’s his name. Prometheus.”

Nancy laughs, and Steve folds his arms defensively. He hates when people talk about all that fantasy shit like it’s a normal thing to know.

“The hell does that mean?” he snaps, before he remembers he should probably be a little nicer to Eddie. Nancy’s already glaring at him.

“Greek guy,” says Eddie. He doesn’t sound mad or anything. “Dared to steal fire from the gods. Got his liver eaten every day.”

“Wait, every day? How does that even work?”

Eddie grins with half his mouth. “That’s the bitch of it, Harrington. He regrows it every time, just to get it eaten again. Poor fucker never gets to die, just—just keeps hurting.”

“Well, we’re very glad you didn’t die either,” says Nancy, patting his cuffed arm. It’s the one with the weird blobby mark, but she doesn’t seem like she even notices. “It’s so ridiculous that they’ve got you in handcuffs like this. I’ll talk to someone, maybe—”

Eddie waves his free arm languidly. “Ah, don’t worry about it, Wheeler. Prometheus, right? He always…always grows it back again.” He’s starting to slur his words a little, drifting.

“Hey, man,” says Steve. “We’ll let you get some rest, okay? But we’ll—we’ll be back.”

“Ten-four, good buddy,” says Eddie, and closes his eyes.

———

Steve wants to bring up Eddie’s weird mark with Nancy, but he doesn’t know how to not make it seem like he’s trying to get her back.

So the next time he gets a chance, he asks Dustin as casually as he can: “Hey, you ever see Eddie’s soulmark?”

“Hah!” says Dustin. “No way. He covered it up years ago, before we ever even met him.”

“Wait, covered it up? Like…”

“Like, he decided to reject the uncaring hand of fate in a super permanent way.” Dustin pauses, squinting at Steve’s confused face. “He got a cover-up tattoo. Obviously.”

“Oh, sure, obviously. Totally normal thing to do,” says Steve, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, I’ve never even heard of that before.”

Later, the unwelcome thought that’s been prowling around the edges of his mind finally takes shape: what if Nancy wants to get a cover-up?

She wouldn’t, would she?

He doesn’t want to remember the way she always preferred long sleeves, even when they were dating; how she’d slide her fingers tight over her wrist compulsively, clutching, sometimes for no reason at all that he could see.

———

Soulmarks aren’t even that common, so he’s always seen his mark as kind of like a prize. It had felt like winning the lottery, when he’d watched the tidy script appear on his skin a few weeks after his thirteenth birthday.

He’d been a little surprised when he met Nancy Wheeler for the first time, a whole year and a half later; he’d never thought he’d go for someone like her. But then she turned out to be smart and passionate and surprisingly pretty after all, and the knowledge of a future together had sounded better and better all the time.

And now…Robin said, once, that maybe there was another Nancy Wheeler out there just waiting to meet him. The thought fills him with syrupy dread. He’s pretty sure Robin was trying to be nice and comforting, he just really hates the idea that he’s been getting it wrong all this time; that he tried so hard and felt all those things for nothing. But it’s Nancy’s handwriting for sure, just like it’s his on her wrist, and it seems pretty impossible that there’s also another Steve Harrington out there for her too.

So it has to work out, it all has to fit together in the end. It’s going to. He holds onto that for a very long time.

———

Steve doesn’t really get another chance to look at Eddie’s shitty cover-up for a while. At first, he thinks visiting Max and Eddie can be something he and Nancy could maybe do together, but she’s pretty busy handling the legal side of things. From what Jonathan says, it sounds like she’s actually managing to get a pretty good deal for both of them, like maybe there’ll be a duplex in a not-too-bad part of town with the Mayfield-Munson name on it. She’s good at that kind of thing, according to Jonathan. Steve wouldn’t really know.

It’s really obvious that Jonathan doesn’t know how to be around Steve. Like, how do you hang out with the guy who’s got your soulmate’s name etched on his skin by destiny? But somehow they make it work.

In fact, Steve’s started to take some strange kind of comfort from it. Jonathan’s probably the only other guy who knows what it’s like, this off-kilter funhouse vertigo of Nancy’s choice. It connects the two of them even more than it connects either of them with Nancy, probably.

Steve doesn’t blame Jonathan anymore, is the point. If—when Nancy comes back to him, they’ll both be better off because Jonathan’s been in their lives. He gets that now.

Anyway, Nancy’s busy with paperwork or yelling at men in suits or whatever it is she’s actually doing, but Steve still wants to see Max and Eddie. Mostly Max, to be honest, but it’s not like he doesn’t want to see Eddie too. He barely knows the guy, but he thinks it’s pretty normal that he feels some kind of connection or bond or whatever. It’s normal, after going through some shit with another guy his own age, to want to get to know him a little more.

Of course, Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson isn’t exactly normal, so Steve tries not to feel hurt when he opens the door and Eddie’s whole body flinches back, arms coming up protectively, eyes big and scared.

“Sorry,” says Steve, suddenly feeling like he should’ve knocked. “Didn’t mean to startle you, dude.”

Eddie bows from the waist, which looks fucking ridiculous when he’s sitting up on the bed hooked up to a bunch of monitors and stuff. He looks way better than the last time they’d been in the same room.

“Not at all, good sir,” he drawls. “Welcome to my humble abode. Sorry I can’t offer you any refreshments; we’re shockingly low on pudding cups.”

“Right,” says Steve. He’d forgotten the way Eddie talks and how it makes him feel two steps behind sometimes. Like Dustin, kind of, but not as annoying for some reason. Maybe Eddie’s a little nicer about it, he guesses, though nice isn’t exactly a word he’s ever associated with Eddie Munson before.

Without really meaning to, he glances at Eddie’s wrist. It’s tucked casually away against his stomach, half-hidden by the hospital sheets.

“Yeah, uh,” says Eddie. “Henderson…said you asked about. You know.”

Steve feels betrayed, even though he knows he shouldn’t. He hadn’t told Dustin not to say anything, because it wasn’t—it wasn’t fucking relevant to anything, so why would Dustin even mention it? Goddamn asshole kid.

Eddie holds out his arm, wrist up, fingers loosely curled.

“Doesn’t bite,” he says, so Steve takes the invitation and comes closer. He almost reaches out to grab Eddie’s hand, but that would be a weird thing to do, so he doesn’t.

After a moment, Steve says, “I just don’t get why you’d do that.”

Eddie cocks his head. “No? You don’t get why someone might not want to do exactly as they’re told, Ozzy?”

Steve doesn’t know what he expected. Just the typical Munson rebel bullshit after all. But he’s here, and Max is sleeping, so he might as well throw himself into the shiny plastic chair and say, “Whatever, man. How’re you doing?”

As Eddie launches into a convoluted story about some nurse feud he’s been eavesdropping on, Steve makes sure not to let his gaze drift to the obscene blob blotting out the fine tendons and blue veins on his wrist; doesn’t wonder at all about what else that ink might be covering up, and definitely doesn’t wonder why Eddie would want to throw away his one and only universe-approved shot at true love.

What would be the point?

#continuing my least popular snippet of all time! lol I really am just out here posting for myself #to head off any speculation at the pass: the name on Eddie's wrist is not Steve's #not!soulmates AU

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wizardnuke · 2 years

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I don't think soulmate aus work for ships that have themes like changing fate/choosing your own path and so I don't think it's super effectual for shadowgast but also I keep thinking about it because. because I like soulmate aus I think they're Neat..

#I don't think much would change is the thing. like if we're working under the 'soulmates name written on your wrist' au for example #I think if caleb introduced himself to essek after the beacon thing then essek wouldn't even blink bc he's having a HELL of a day already #and caleb is famously very good at not talking abt things important to him and he's also had a hell of a day #so. they carry on like they did canonically except. they see the other as connected to themselves in a way they didn't canonically #which I mean. like. they see the other as similar and therefore as a threat. lol #I keep thinking about the layers of ikithon working with essek. bc ikithon would know. is the thing #I think caleb would discover essek being the traitor earlier on. would he do anything about it is the thing #just. the ongoing unspoken knowledge of that and also the canyon of understanding/distrust between them #my point is. truly. I'm not a huge fan of soulmate aus that end on them finding out and living happily ever after #I like ones where they have to decide what it's gonna mean to them #the universe has decided that in some way. ure bound to someone. what are u gonna do about it #essek is like of course this caleb widogast showed up with the beacon I stole of course that's a twist of fate I've been given #and caleb is like oh yes of course essek thelyss is an unchecked and powerful mage who wants knowledge at any cost. of course #of course essek conspired with the man who ruined caleb of course they have to navigate THAT #it's Compelling. essek CAN change fate in a way and he passed those spells on to caleb.#thinking abt them working on that with the knowledge that they're bound together. they wouldn't talk about it until at LEAST eiselcross

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roboromantic · 2 years

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hmmmmm surely there's fics out there that explore the mechanics of how their particular version of a soulmate au works, but do I wanna spend umpty-million hours digging for them? not really

#i don't tend to read soulmate au stuff but afaik the characters don't tend to think all that much about how it works #maybe they get mad or upset at the universe in general when they're in denial over who their soulmate is #but like. do they ever go on a quest to find The Cosmic Matchmaker™️ and ask why they chose [insert au's soulmate indicator]#to show who someone's soulmate is?#is there just one Cosmic Matchmaker™️??? or a bored department throwing darts at a board???#do people in soulmate aus write non-soulmate au fics and argue about how one would hope to find their soulmate in such a universe #can there be multiple kinds of soulmate indicators in the same universe and can they be mismatched or can a person have more than one #like the name of their soulmate is written on their arm and also there's a countdown on their wrist #or would that maybe only happen if you have more than one soulmate at the same time #anyway. I was overcome with a Need for a hanahaki fic a while back and there was a really good simpatico one #that explored it as more of a rare medical condition caused by repressing strong emotion or st like that than as a mystical thing #also iirc it was like. coughing up crystallized energon in a flower (or petal?) shape instead of actual flowers

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 1 month

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1.7k / 21 / soap soulmate au, part 2

...

Unfortunately, Ghost finds you before Soap does.

Ghost yanks you by the elbow, cuffs around your wrists, dragging you to an unmarked military vehicle, pistol in hand.

"Where are you taking me?" you ask him.

He shoves you into the back seat and slams the door, gets in on the other side and starts the car up. You right yourself, having been shoved hard enough for your ribs to bounce off the leather seats.

He answers without looking at you. "The base." Curt, cold, and pissed. He drops the gun barrel-down into the cup holder.

"We just left the base."

"Huh. So we did." He keeps his eyes on the road. "Ain't that funny."

There’s a chance he’s not 141. As if there’s some other brick shithouse of a man who wears a skull balaclava around.

You shift in your seat. "What do you want from me?"

“Nothin' that'll feel good, I can tell ya that." He rests his elbow on the center console. “We’re gonna have a long talk."

"And then what?"

“Dunno. Maybe a bullet. Depends on how much you piss me off. Got a lot of questions to ask you first.”

Great.

You look around. This isn’t a police vehicle. Barely a military vehicle. There’s no barrier between you and that gun in the front seat cupholder. But you’re not an idiot. He knows you won't go for it, too, but he wants you to try.

You lean back, looking out the window at your side. "You can still turn yourself in. You don’t need to resort to hostages.”

“I made my choice. Not a difficult choice, considering how corrupt Shadow Company is."

“Orders are orders.”

“You always follow orders to arrest your friends, no questions asked?”

“When there’s good reason to.”

"Good reason, my ass. You're just a mindless dog, doing whatever Graves says. You think he'll protect you from the consequences of his actions? He'll toss you to the wolves in a heartbeat if it means saving his own sorry ass."

"That's not true."

"It's the mercenary way, innit. Sell yourself to the highest bidder and tell yourself orders are orders."

You brace one boot on the other, slowly working one foot free from inside. "Military’s the same. Only difference between us is you're salaried."

“I fight for a cause. Can’t say the same for your line of work. All you know how to do is gun targets down for cash and a little approval from your boss. Pathetic.”

Your heel slides loose. “No cause is clean. You can’t tell me you’ve never seen corruption in your line of work. Or a bad call. Or an unnecessary death.”

He grips the wheel, glaring at you in the mirror. “Doesn’t make it right. Sure as hell doesn’t mean you turn a blind eye to goddamn betrayal in your own ranks.”

“Some bureaucrat in a suit fumbling the bag and trying to right wrongs doesn’t make us corrupt. Graves knows what he’s doing—"

"So you knew."

Your jaw snaps closed mid-sentence. Shit.

He's staring right at you in the rearview mirror, eyes so cold they could freeze the breath in your lungs. "You knew about Shepherd. Didn't you?"

You swallow, looking away from the mirror and out the window. Your left foot finally comes free, and you shift subtly to brace your heel on your right boot, beginning to work your right foot loose next. "Doesn't matter."

“You followed orders to turn on your own allies, knowing they came from Shepherd. Knowing all he cares about is covering his own mistakes." He grips and re-grips the wheel slowly, as if he's thinking hard about picking up that handgun and ending your life in a ditch somewhere. "Welcomed us into a slaughterhouse for a fistful of cash. Bet you sleep real easy at night."

You trust Graves. He’s never steered you wrong. You were doing the right thing by following orders. That mantra is stuck in your throat. You want it to be true, but then there’s Johnny.

Ghost hasn't mentioned him by name. The Shadows never found him—he got away—but you don't dare let yourself think about the implications of him being alive and knowing about you. You put it out of your mind as soon as the thought surfaces, even. You made a deal with yourself that you'd never dwell on it again. Much less ask his very hostile squadmate about it. You’re not about to offer your arteries up to a butcher.

"Shepherd is in your chain of command, too."

"Not anymore. You and yours made sure of that."

"You didn't have to defect. Commander Graves asked you to come quietly. You would've been fine. You didn't do anything wrong, right?” You hear an edge in your tone and blunt it back down. "You didn't have anything to hide. But you turned it into a firefight."

"You realize you’re defending the bastard that sold out me and my team. You think I'd lay down, let him put us in some jail cell to rot for the rest of our days? I've seen too many people follow orders, trusting that everyone above them has their best interests at heart. Seen more than a few of them get punished at the hands of men like Shepherd. I'm not giving him another chance to betray me.” You still feel his eyes on you in the mirror, but you don't look. "You never once stopped and questioned what you were told to do? Or did it not matter because your loyalty was to your company, not the right thing?" His voice is flat. "That's the difference between me and you. I don't look for excuses to feel better about my actions. And I damn sure don't turn my gun on my allies.”

Your stomach curls with discomfort. "You had a choice. You knew how this would end for you."

"Rather be a wanted criminal for the right reasons than a gun being pointed at whoever Shepherd wants dead. And wouldn't you know it--I'm in damn good company, too. Turns out sticking to a moral code earns you a little more loyalty than payin’ cash. But you want to know what the best part of being a criminal is?" He taps out an odd little tune on the wheel, but there’s nothing warm or cute about it. The loaded gun would be friendlier to contend with. “I don’t have to follow Shepherd’s orders. I’m free to deal with this little problem as I see fit, and no one can tell me I’m wrong. If I kill some mercenaries who would arrest me on sight, that's just the unfortunate collateral damage that comes with my newfound freedom and your buddies following orders."

You consider that for a long moment. “So when do you plan to kill me?”

"Depends on whether or not I like what I hear in the next couple of hours. Might change my mind in that time. Might not." He takes his hand off the steering wheel to lean back a little. The road is empty, stretching long into the horizon. "The more I hear you talk, the more I feel like shooting you just for the sake of it. But I've got too many questions for that, so..." He lets the implied you live for now hang in the air, then taps the wheel again. "We'll see how the rest of this convo goes."

You manage to slide your right heel free. You glance up to see him looking at you in the mirror again. Your heart skips. You think he's caught you. But he doesn't say anything, and you realize he's just examining you, mulling something over.

“I don’t know what you think I can tell you, but I don’t know anything,” you say.

“Why don’t you just stay quiet and think about all that stuff you don’t know. Maybe we’ll starve you until you talk; maybe we’ll grease your palms. That’s how you operate, hm?”

He’s trying to make you angry, make you take the bait, but you don’t. You know what you are.

You keep both feet carefully lowered into your boots so as not to rouse suspicion. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you and your buddy got hurt.”

That seems to catch him off guard. He frowns. A beat passes where he doesn't say anything, just watches you. Not angry or suspicious, just... calculating. "Not worth much. And his name is Johnny. But you knew that, didn't you?"

You look away. Ghost's cell phone rings.

The sound pulls his attention away from you. He glances down at the display with a frown.

"On with Ghost." A short reply. "Yeah, I got her. About three hours out." He glances at you once as the person on the other line says something else, but after a few more seconds, you can tell he's more concerned with what they're saying than with you.

This is your chance.

With his eyes fixed on the road, you silently pull your cuffed arms under you, lifting your feet deftly through the loop of your arms.

You glance down at the gun one more time. He’s holding the phone with his left hand; driving with his right. Still, even with your hands in front of you, you’re cuffed. You won’t have a chance if you go for that gun and he gets it away from you. It won’t end well.

Plan B, then.

You push your feet back into your boots and slide yourself behind his seat.

"Hey!"

Drill Sergent voice. Busted.

He hits the brakes, drops his phone, and reaches for the pistol.

You slam your feet into the back of his seat, sending him crashing forward and trapping him between the seat and the wheel. The horn blares. The car jerks and runs off the road.

Cuffed hands in front of you, you throw your weight against the driver's side door and grab the handle. He reacts, but not quick enough, his gloved hand snatching at the space where yours were a second after you get the door open.

You dive outside, crash to the ground, roll ungracefully away from the back wheels as they roar past, and use the momentum to get back to your feet. The car keeps rolling, driver's side door still open. It's still moving fast, and you landed hard. That's going to hurt in a minute. Not yet, though.

You run.

...

part 1 / [part 2] / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8

more Soap / masterlist tag

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honeykaes · 8 months

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le sacrifice du sang

vampire!neuvillette x reader II 2.6k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no set pronouns, vampire au, set in 17th century esc france, blood, biting, ritual sex, self harm (neuvillette cuts his wrist for the ritual), soulmate, xenophobia, praise, creampies, monsterfucking adjacent, unedited

synopsis: for decades the village has been thriving despite the vampiric armies ravaging throughout europe. Cast aside for being an outsider, you are deemed as a sacrifice to a vampire lord to stop the attacks in the region.

Night seemed endless. Most days you would barely see the sun bright outside under the sky. All you could do was sigh, shifting on the soft sheets of the grandiose bed you rested in. A long chiffon nightgown covered your form and rested right at your ankles. You balled your fists on the ornate patterns of the comforter of the bed, golden and navy threads showing off just how much it was worth.

You turned your head to the stained glass window seeing the sun hiding behind the horizon and stars beginning to peak out in the darkening sky—the multicolor light pigmented in blues and purples reflected on the ground as its shadow grew signaling the fleeting light.

Part of you is surprised you're up so early in your new sleep schedule but another part of you questions why you’re even alive right now to look outside the stained glass window. Three weeks ago you were set to die, yet you have lived in the lap of luxury.

All because of him.

Vampires have been ravaging Europe for a few decades now, causing an all-out war in some regions of the land. Your family insisted on heading there despite it, as traders would surely flourish against the nobles desperate for supplies and your nativity allowed you to follow them.

Trying to settle and trade in Europe began in disaster as xenophobia grew rapid—war, fear, and prejudices clouding their judgment. You lost your family very early on when you arrived in Europe, losing a lot and trying to scour and try to collect wherever you could to mourn and live. France became the best option to live in since the fighting was beginning to cease in the country.

In the southeast part of the region, you settled in a village. You remained there for five years, trying to make ends meet as a seamstress. You always wondered why vampires didn’t attack and slaughter you and the rest of the village as you heard others had faced. The village had not seen an inkling of the dissipating war around it, and you later discovered why.

To appease the vampiric lords and ladies of France, human sacrifices were commenced—one to save all. You weren’t completely sure who the lord of this area even was, yet you were about to find out after the Judge of the town deemed yourself as the sacrifice.

You begged, you pleaded, you cried but no one in the town so much as pitied you. In their eyes, you were an outsider; someone even more worthy of being sacrificed than “one of their own”. Bullshit is what you wanted to say but you didn’t have the power to defy it.

That man eventually collected you after, the lord of the southern region of France—Monsieur Neuvillette. When he descended, in navy and black, you thought he was an angel and thought the village already killed you thinking he was an angel instead.

He didn’t seem human at all.

Long white hair cascaded down his back and lowly tied towards the end with streaks of gradient blue flowing through it. His lavender eyes, pupil slit, and irises glowing, drinking up every unconscious tick and stubble expression in your body and face. His face was stern, but his eyes seemed kind.

He asked you one question that night.

“What is your name, dear?”

You answered as his eyes softened, lifting his hand to your eyes to cover your gaze

“Then, (Y/n). I’m sorry circumstances have brought us here.”

Darkness was all you were faced with. In a way, you thought death had arrived, only to wake up in a beautifully decorated room in a château when you awoke.

Neuvillette was kind albeit stoic during your time in his château. Many nights, you’d have dinner with him—his eyes just on you as he quietly drank his silver chalice filled with the iron-rich stench of blood from someone who wasn’t you.

Those nights he would reveal more information about himself and you’d do the same. He told you how he was a lord and has been “in this state” for several millennia. He told you about the rise and fall of empires and even vampiric ones history had all but forgotten.

Neuvillette also discussed how most of the sacrifices ended up working as servants in the château who he called “Melusines”.

In the second week since your “sacrifice”, he also mentioned another vampire lord living in this château—Lady Furina. He talked about how eager she was to interact with her subjects, including yourself but he had told her to stay away from you for now as her bloodlust was unpredictable.

But one slip of the tongue had changed the casual conversation into something more serious.

“...She is not to bother you, yet. Not before you are turned at the least.”

Your eyebrow furrowed, lips parting hearing him say those words. Turning? Turning into what?

“What do you mean by that…” you questioned. He placed his chalice down, closing his eyes briefly to collect his thoughts before crossing his arms.

“I apologize. I have neglected to inform you about this since I wanted you to get adjusted to your new life here first,” he murmured. You clenched your jaw, trying to read his stoic expression but it was the same as it’s always been.

“I admit I played a role in why the Judge had chosen you specifically. When you first settled in the village, your scent informed me that you were my mate. My soulmate,” he replied. You couldn’t stop yourself from scoffing in shock.

“Smell me? Soulmate? What does that even mean, Neuvillette?! I thought vampires only were interested in other vampires and humans were seen as food. That’s why there’s a war in the rest of Europe after all,” you shouted. He did not flinch at your raising pitch in tone. He gave a small humorless laugh at your words.

“That’s not exactly true. A curse befalls vampires and those with vampiric natures in more than one way than ‘evolving’ from their human characteristics. The same people many see as food can be the only chance to find their mate. Whether unconsciously or not we are always searching, our body craves the touch and affection only our mates can give us, soothing one might say, the soul,” he revealed.

You look down at your plate, half-eaten cake on it before gently pushing it away. There was a pause where no one said anything, but you were sure he could hear your heartbeat thumping rapidly in your chest.

“...Are you scared? Do you need some time to process this? We can save the rest of this conversation later,” Neuvillette discussed. You swallowed, trying to ease the dryness that caught your throat suddenly but refused to look him in his eyes for now.

“H-How would this process work exactly? I’m guessing vampires and mortal humans don't mix well,” you muttered. Neuvillette sighed, grunting in agreement.

“Well. There’s a ritual in a sense to create a bond between each party’s body and soul. The ritual entails copulation and when my fangs pierce your skin in the process. It will signal to both your body and soul that your bond with me has been found and eventually your physiology will adjust into something more like me.”

“...Something that of a vampire,” you whispered, looking up at him. He silently nodded as silence befell the two of you for now. Neuvillette let out a heavy sigh, but the corners of his lips curved into a small smile to try to ease the pain you were faced with.

“I recognize this is a lot for any human to face, so please take as much time as you need. There is no rush, so process however long it will take,” he said, rising from his seat and leaving you alone with the crackling fire in the dining room.

It had been a year since that night he revealed himself as your soulmate. A year to finally process and accept your fate. You chuckled to yourself finally seeing the sun’s light completely disappear and the moon rising brightly in the sky.

Tonight you would mourn your mortality.

A knock at the door snapped you out of your thoughts and memories before you called out they could enter. Neuvillette walked in, wearing his own nightgown falling to his ankle, body completely covered in the white chiffon fabric. He stood by the door still, letting you have your space that was resting on the bed.

“Are you sure you are ready? We can wait later to do this. I can wait,” Neuvillette murmured. You flashed a shaky smile before sighing.

“Yes. I am Neuvillette. I promise,” you replied. Neuvillette walked over until he was in front of you, long fingers clasping gently as your chin before lifting it up. Your lips parted in shock gazing into his eyes that softened.

“I’m going to ask one more time, are you sure you’re ready,” he asked, voice low and husky. Your body trembled at the tone of his voice before you slowly nodded your head—you could hear your eardrums echoing out the beat of your quickening heart.

You slowly lifted your nightgown off and the fabric pools on the floor, leaving you bare and vulnerable to his gaze and touch. He followed, letting his nightgown fall onto the floor. His body was more muscular than you thought based on the attire you usually saw him adorning in the halls. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks.

Neuvillette softly smiles leaning in to press his lips against your own. He soon is on top of you, the bed creaked as the weight of two bodies pressed against it. His lips were soft, easily molding on your own while ever so often a sharp pain would poke at your bottom lip.

“If I’m being honest, I never thought I would experience this. You don’t know how long I waited for this...how I longed for you,” he whispered, as his lips eventually left your own, settling in the nape of your neck. Your body trembled as Neuvillette let his fangs graze against the sensitive skin while his hand traveled down and squeezed the plush of your thighs.

He finally finds your cunt, cupping his hand at it as he continues to nipple and his along your neck. He soon applied pressure and your hips instinctively began to grind trying to get a lick of friction to brush against your needy clit. Feeling you grind on his hand made Neuvillette chuckle before he opened his eyes admiring the slick now clinging to his palm.

“So pliable under my touch, I’m glad you're enjoying yourself,” he whispered in your ear, hearing another moan rip from your mouth. He soon shifted his position; his thumb now firmly pressed against the nub of your clit pressing tight circles on it. Your form began to twist and your hips shifted as Neuvillette’s hand followed every movement, not budging his focused ministrations once.

His other thumb brushed against your pebbled nibbles, relishing in the way your body jolted from the various sensations. Your breathing became heavy, feeling your entire body flutter inching closer and closer to your high.

“Neuvillette. Neuvillette…I’m—” you groaned out before suddenly Neuvillette completely stopped. You snapped your eyes open in surprise, looking over at him perplexed as his gaze softened and lips tugged in a smile.

“Why did you stop…?” you whispered, puzzled by his actions. Neuvillette leaned in to kiss your forehead while cleaning the slick clinging to his fingers on his thighs as it smeared.

“I needed to make sure you were prepared for me. The ritual unfortunately cannot work if you lose yourself to my fingers, mon cœur. Unless you preferred to wait as I asked earlier,” Neuvillette hummed. You bite your lip, in embarrassment as Neuvillette grasped his cock.

It’s thick, and long and the only vein you could see ran along the base of it. His cock curled up and twitched every few seconds, eager for attention. He let out a grunt, pumping his cock a few times as his tip—flushed pale pink—budded with precum. He rested his length against your slit, letting it slide up and down and gathering the arousal drooling out of your cunt. He let his tip tap against your stimulated clit causing you to shiver before he nestled it against your entrance once more.

As he pushed the tip inside of you, he leaned down, capturing your lips once more before sinking his cock further inside of you. Your nails harpoon against his broad back and you widen your legs wider trying to adjust to his length. Your walls burned at the stretch, trying your best not to tense up as he descended further inside of you.

Finally bottoming out, he slowly slid out before plunging in once more, thrusting with meticulous but strong strokes. Your body moved to his pace, bed beginning to moan and creak while hitting against the wall.

He grunted louder in the kiss, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to contain himself. He leaned up as you tried catching your breath, stammering his name as his breathing became heavier while his thrusts became faster.

Neuvillette parted his mouth to let his fangs elongate before they buried themselves in the nape of your neck. You yelped, sucking a sharp breath in as the pain of his bite throbbed and shot throughout your entire body. You could hear him gulp and moan, sucking the river of blood pouring down at the wound while he continued to rut inside of you.

“Neuvillette…” you whispered out. It was strange. The pain had somehow subsided and your body felt much lighter and aware of his touch and thrusts, trembling in newly found sensitivity and pleasure. It was as if the bite was an aphrodisiac.

Were all bites like this or was it because he claimed to be your soulmate?

He lifted his head, lower face bloodied from the meal he was indulging in—your humanity. His tongue seemed longer, letting it rest against the wound before taking a long stride up to lap up the rest of the blood dripping from the punctures.

Your walls fluttered down on his cock as your writhed, Neuvillette continued to buck—desperate to sink even further inside of you. He sucked a breath in, struggling to keep up with his pace as your walls continued to cave and clamp down.

Neuvillette's hands find themselves beneath you, squeezing the globes of your ass before lifting your bottom half in an attempt to plunge deeper inside of you. His eyes narrowed watching his cock stretch and disappear in your cunt.

“That’s it…you're almost there. Let me see you come undone. Let’s begin our lives together for eternity in the darkness…” Neuvillette muttered, clenching his jaw tight. You squirmed, tears pricking your eyes as you finally reached your high—body shivering and back arching while calling out his name repeatedly. Your walls quivering from your climax were enough for Neuvillette to follow.

He snapped his eyes shut, hips flattering letting ropes of his thick cum shoot inside of it. He slowly thrust, pushing it deeper, trying to nurse his body down from his high. A trial of his essence managed to leak out, and travel to your inner thighs despite his cock still plugged inside of you.

“Just one more step…please bear with me and stay away,” Neuvillette whispered, placing your hips down on the bed once more. His nails, sharper than before, quickly shut themselves on his wrist—his blood dripping down his forearm. Your eyes and body felt so heavy, your body feeling like your heart was slowing down before you noticed him hovering his injured wrist above your mouth.

Droplets of blood trickled down your chest and chin before finally landing in your open mouth.

As you swallowed, your eyes widened feeling an unknown rush flowing throughout your body replenishing your once tired body so suddenly.

“It…it doesn’t taste like iron, but as if your blood is the purest spring water…”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #neuvillette imagines #neuvillette scenarios #kinktober 2023

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sterekbigbang · 2 months

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Power of a Name (22,377) by @mindofmim Art by @eevylynn For @sterekbigbang 2023-2024, Round 6 Rating: Teen and Up Relationships & Characters: Derek/Stiles, Derek, Stiles, Scott, Sheriff, Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Allison, Chris, Peter Tags: Kidnapping, fae, ritual, spark Stiles, soulmate au, Derek and Stiles are soulmates, pack to the rescue, pinning, Derek works as a mechanic, Derek and Stiles friendship, angst Derek, happy ending

Summary: Everyone has their soulmates first name written on their wrist (some born with it. For some it comes once there's soulmate is born), Derek got his when he turned five. From the moment he met Stiles, he wished they were soulmates. But "Stiles" isn't the name encoded on his wrist. Kidnapped by Fae, Stiles knows the only way to save Derek, and buy the pack enough time to figure out a rescue plan is to make a deal with the queen. And he's only got one bargaining chip - his name; Mieczysław. Derek lost everything the day his pack died, and again when he learnt Stiles was his soulmate (only to lose him in the same breath). His last hope was that the pack could decode Stiles' clue and bring him home, so he could apologize and make things right.

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ellecdc · 1 month

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All's Fair in Love & Chaos

1st instalment (read the second here)

a short blurb style mini-series in collaboration with @unstablereader no real plot, just vibes and comedy.

Synopsis: soulmate au, everyone's soulmate's initials become visible on their wrist when the last person in the bond 'comes of age' (I've left the age ambiguous because their may be mature insinuations later on in the story). As luck would have it, and much to everyone's horror; it appeared that you, Barty Crouch Junior, and Sirius Black were soulmates

poly!DeathStar x fem!reader

The day that every witch, wizard, and wix alike waited their whole life for finally came for Sirius Black; the day that their soulmate’s initials became visible on your wrist.

The mark becomes visible when the last person of your soulmate bond comes of age. For example, much to Lily’s chagrin, the initials J.F.P became visible on her wrist on March 27th, as did the initials L.J.E on James’ wrist.

Much to Sirius’ chagrin, on June 25th, the initials R.A.B became visible on Remus’ wrist, as did the initials R.J.L on Regulus’.

And so it went for the rest of his friends and classmates.

Except for poor Pete, whose wrist adorned the initials of someone who - after much research and triple-checking by all of their friends - clearly didn’t go to Hogwarts.

Sometimes, however, soulmate bonds took place between more than two people, and though it was possible for it to happen among all blood statuses, the odds were higher amongst Pureblood’s.

So when Sirius woke up this morning to a weird burning/itching feeling on his wrist, only to see not one, but two sets of initials, he was feeling pretty chuffed.

That dissolved very quickly, however.

“No…. nononononononono.” He muttered in agony as he saw two people approaching him; one looking almost as horrified as he did and one looking awfully sinister.

“Well, well, well.” Barty Crouch Junior drawled as he made his way to the Gryffindor table, dragging you over with him - seemingly without your consent – by your arm. “I thought it must have been a mistake when I woke up to find out I had a Son Of a Bitch as a soulmate, but alas; here you are.”

“This can’t be.” Sirius whispered disbelievingly, causing Barty to cackle maniacally.

“Oh, but it is.”

Any words that Sirius had died on his lips at the wheezing of his younger brother.

You, Barty, and Sirius all turned to see Regulus hanging from Remus’ shoulder as he clutched his stomach.

“I…I – oh Salazar, I think I finally believe in gods! All of them! Oh…” He stuttered in between fits of laughter.

Sirius looked between him and his supposed best mate, but Remus only looked at Regulus as if Regulus was his most beautiful when he was laughing at the expense of his brother.

Bastards; the both of them.

“Happy birthday, Y/N!” James offered, his face clearly trying to smile though it took on a pained expression in comissery.

“Thank you…” You accepted timidly, eyes darting between the group of people you suddenly found yourself emmersed in.

“Now look what you’ve done, Black.” Barty sneered as if Sirius’ last name was a dirty word. “You’ve worried our poor girl.” He cooed as he pulled you tight into your side, causing you to squeak in surprise.

“I hardly think I’m the one worrying her.” Sirius sneered back.

Barty’s face turned stony. “Just what are you insinuating?”

“Uhm, that you’re certifiably insane?” Sirius responded simply.

“Oh, come now; Junior’s not that bad.” Remus tried to reason; his boyfriend still hanging limply off his shoulder as he tried (and failed) to repress his laughter.

“Not that bad?” Sirius screeched incredulously. “Did you not see what he did to Crawley?”

Peter snorted at that. “Mate, you literally did the same thing to Snape.”

“That was you?” Barty asked in surprise, looking Sirius up and down skeptically.

“Sure was.” James answered on his behalf.

“Huh.” Barty chuckled in thought. “That’s where I- never mind that. I only did that because he groped Y/N’s arse.”

Sirius felt his own face turn stony as he turned his attention to you. “Is this true?”

You seemed to pale at the attention. “Well…yes? But-”

“Ha ha. Black’s just as bad as me.” Barty sing-songed from beside you, looking at Sirius with a look of faux innocence.

Sirius heard a thump, and he looked over to see Remus looking behind the bench where Regulus had apparently fallen in his fit of laughter.

“I – I’ve died, yeah? I’m dead? Fuck, I must’ve done something right in my past life to be rewarded with this. Sirius is – is bonded to Barty Crouch Junior.” He howled with laughter, so uncharacteristic of the young, stoic Black.

“I am not!” Sirius argued petulantly. “I’m bonded to Y/N, Junior just…happens to be there.”

“If you’re only bonded to Y/N, why are my initials decorating your wrist, hm?” Barty asked salaciously, pulling Sirius’ wrist towards him to see the evidence for himself.

“Oh, sod off.” Sirius barked, shoving him aside and offering you an apologetic glance before storming towards the exit.

“Oi! Where are you going, future-Mr-Barty-Crouch-Junior!?” Barty taunted.

“To jump off the astronomy tower!” Sirius called back.

“Ou! We should go watch.” He said, turning to you before following Sirius out. “You should try to do a flip!”

“Oh, Y/N.” Lily cooed after the boys finally disappeared out of the Great Hall. “I’m so sorry.”

You let out a long-suffering sigh as your eyes stayed focused on the place where you last saw your two new soulmates. “If Regulus did something in a past life to be rewarded with this, I must have done something right horrid.”

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rebelspykatie · 10 months

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Soulmate AU Part Two

Part One | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Steve doesn’t come to school for a week. Rumors are swirling around about why he suddenly disappeared after he turned 18, people speculating that it’s not Nancy to wildly inaccurate tales about Steve being linked to someone like old Mrs. Click. Nancy shuts down, telling people it’s none of their business but everyone still finds out they broke up.

When he finally comes back to school, Eddie almost can’t stand to see it. His eyes are sunken in, hollowed out with dark circles. The normal golden glow to his skin is gone, leaving a sickly hue and an aura of fuck off attitude. People keep their distance like he has the plague. This just feeds into the rumors that something horrible must’ve happened, especially since Steve has a cuff wrapped around his arm, hiding the name from prying eyes.

Eddie doesn’t engage with the gossip, even when the guys from Corroded Coffin try to shit talk Steve around him. Gareth suspects something but he hasn’t put the pieces together on how Eddie covered up his arm on his birthday and hasn’t let them see his wrist since that day, and how he’s suspiciously quiet in the face of the biggest jock in school having a hard time with whatever news he received. No one thinks anything of it because they were spaced so far apart. Everyone thinks Eddie is sympathizing with Steve’s situation. Instead he’s watching Steve’s life fall apart and it’s all his fault.

Steve can feel Eddie watching him, following him in the corridors, quietly staring at him while the gossip around them grows louder. He doesn’t understand why Eddie hasn’t said a word to him, not when he found out, not for an entire year, and definitely not now, when they both know what the other has written on their wrist. Maybe he’s waiting to see if Steve is going to lose his shit over it. Finally snap and tell everyone to fuck off because his soulmate is the freak and even he doesn’t want Steve.

When Steve was younger, he dreamed of his soulmate, held the imaginary person close when things got hard or when he felt like true love couldn’t possibly be real when the universe paired up people like his parents. But maybe Harringtons weren’t destined for happiness.

Eddie deserves someone better, someone he could love, who understands his interests, not some privileged spoiled rich boy whose idea of romance is flowers and sweet diner dates. Eddie would probably scoff in his face if Steve asked him to go on a date. He can hear the condescending laugh he’d receive if he showed up at Eddie’s trailer with flowers.

But fate, it seems, isn’t done with them. They keep running into each other. It’s inevitable, like clockwork, they’ll be standing at opposite ends of the hallway staring at each other, both too choked up to say anything, brushing past each other without a word. They end up at the nurses office at the same time, staring at the ground to avoid looking at each other until one of them gets called back for help. Steve’s picking up the Mayfield girl while Eddie’s outside smoking and Eddie nearly inhales the blunt when they make eye contact.

It all comes to a head one night, when Steve’s car won’t start and he’s stuck working on it in the parking lot after school. It happens to be on the same night as hellfire, Eddie the last one out of the drama club room, freezing at the edge of the parking lot when he spots Steve.

Part Three

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #katie writes

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laundrybiscuits · 8 months

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(soulmates AU: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4)

When Eddie Munson was almost fifteen, his soulmark showed up overnight.

Oh fuck oh god oh fuck oh god he’d thought in a loop, horrified eyes stuck on a wrist thrust as far away from himself as his gangly limbs could manage.

All year, the hope had been growing and growing in him that he’d dodged a bullet. Turns out it was just a little slow.

Because, see, when Eddie Munson was almost eight, he asked his mom why can’t we just go away somewhere, like—like, just us, and Sarah Munson kissed his head and said your daddy’s my soulmate, baby. It’s gonna be okay.

And then because he was a little shit who routinely broke his mom’s heart, he tore himself out of her arms and yelled if you loved me he wouldn’t be your soulmate, which didn’t even make sense to himself at any point, he’d just been hopping mad with nowhere to put it except a woman who had only ever done her best to love him.

He didn’t blame her at all when he got sent to live with Wayne, pretty soon after that. Not, like, the next morning or even the next month, but close enough that when he got told he was going, it all sort of made sense in his eight-year-old mind. It all connected.

When his fourteenth birthday came and went without the heavy hand of destiny landing on his wrist, he’d slowly started to relax. He’d gotten all wound up worrying about it, the whole year he was twelve, concocting increasingly elaborate scenarios in his mind: a popular girl who would sneer resentfully at him for the rest of their lives, or maybe some bizarro girl version of Eddie who would hate him even more.

Sometimes, guiltily, he’d wondered what would happen if it wasn’t a girl’s name at all. He’d never even heard of anything like that happening, but he’d been starting to get the feeling that if there was ever going to be a freak of nature like that, it just might be him.

As much as the thought of getting chained to a girl for life was starting to make him feel like running and hiding and clawing off all his skin, the thought of getting a name that wasn’t a girl’s name—that would be so much worse. Sure, he couldn’t picture any girl who’d be pleased to have his name on her, but some guy who had to bear Eddie’s chicken-scratch scrawled across his wrist like the mark of Cain? He’s pretty sure people have gotten put in the ground for less. The week before he turned thirteen, he had three nightmares in a row about it.

Maybe it should’ve been some kind of relief to see SANDY FOWLER, who could be a girl but honestly probably wasn’t, someone he hadn't even ever met and couldn’t guess anything about. A reprieve from having to know for sure either way: as close to a blank canvas as anyone like him could get. A million-to-one shot. Instead, he'd just felt the fear in his gut curdle and turn to a cold kind of fury.

Fuck this, he’d thought, and reached for the beat-up Bic on his bedside table.

———

People get real weird about it, especially once he gets it covered up all the way instead of just stabbing ink into his skin any which way, driven by nauseous determination to fuck it up any way he could.

When Wayne had come home that day and seen Eddie on the bathroom floor, covered in blood and ink and the snotty tears he couldn’t hold back after a while, he'd yelled at Eddie for the first time in Eddie’s life.

He hadn't kicked Eddie out afterwards, though Eddie’d still slept with his backpack tucked under his bed for weeks, just in case. Instead, Wayne had asked around awkwardly, and one of his old trucking buddies had known a guy called Frank out in Ohio who ran a side business for desperate folks.

Frank had made some kind of face when he saw what Eddie had done; nodded at Wayne and said, "You did good bringing him here."

Wayne had just nodded back in that taciturn way he got around strangers sometimes, and helped Eddie up into the chair.

He'd gone back one more time when he was eighteen, just to get it patched up and smoothed out again. Frank hadn't recognized him at first with his fresh new metalhead look and the way he'd been shooting up like a weed. They'd joked about covering his whole arm eventually, and Eddie thought maybe it wouldn't even be a joke in another few years. He's not in a rush. He feels a kind of vicious, candy-sweet relief when he looks at his arm now, so everything else is just a bonus.

But yeah, people do get real weird about it. He’s pretty sure some of them think he never had any kind of name under there, that he’s just a poser who wants to act all badass like he’s rejecting something he never had, but the joke’s on them because Eddie really fucking wishes that were the case. The ones who do think he has a name probably think it’s covered in Sharpie or something, like Eddie gets up early every single morning to reapply the felt-tip for shock value.

It’s not a huge shock when Steve Harrington gets a little squeamish about the whole thing. It’s maybe a little surprising that Steve hasn’t heard the rumors about it already, but he guesses they’ve moved in pretty different circles.

Every time they’re in the same room now, Eddie’s got a mental timer ticking away until Steve’s eyes drop down to his wrist. He’s pretty sure Steve doesn’t even know it’s happening, most of the time.

Of course he knows about the Nancy Wheeler thing. Everyone fucking knows about the Nancy Wheeler thing. Steve hadn’t been shy about it at any point; it’s not all that common to meet your soulmate real young, so it had been pretty big news in the halls of Hawkins High. It was bigger news when Wheeler dumped him very publicly and, it seemed, very permanently.

Eddie hadn’t cared so much until that point. Sure, it was a little unusual, but who gave a rat’s ass? You could see that kind of thing in any insipidly brainless rom-com you liked. The break-up, though. He’d never have guessed that Wheeler had the big brass balls to pull that kind of thing. And shacking up with creepy weirdo Jonathan Byers like that—there had to be some real juicy story there. He’d even heard some of the adults around Hawkins talking about it, like it was actual news or something.

The whole thing makes a lot more sense when Nancy finally gets around to telling him about it. He’s kind of a captive audience at first, just blearily nodding along as she perches on the chair by his hospital bed and nervously, haltingly fills the silence when he’s too hazy to contribute much to the conversation.

She ends up telling him a lot of stuff that he’s not a hundred percent sure she meant to say, or at least he’s not a hundred percent sure she meant to say it to someone who’d actually hear her.

“I liked him,” she says. “I did. I’m positive. I wasn’t being forced into it, or anything like that. I liked him so much. I wasn’t…I wasn’t lying when I said I loved him.”

Eddie’s only mostly awake at that point, but he sees her press the heel of her palm into her eyes and take a deep breath. “I wasn’t lying. Not on purpose. God, I don’t know. Maybe I was lying. I didn’t think I was when I said it, anyway, and that’s—that must count for something, right?”

She laughs a little. “You’re not even awake, and I’m having a complete breakdown at you.”

With a truly herculean effort, Eddie rouses himself to make some kind of acknowledging noise.

She flinches a little in her chair, so she really must’ve thought he was out. “Oh! Eddie, um—are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“S’okay,” he manages. “You can—keep talking. If you want.”

Nancy pauses and looks at him, pursing her mouth in that prissy, thoughtful way. “Okay,” she says at last. “I will.”

#not!soulmates au #hey it's been a while! turns out I'm making a transatlantic move so my life's been a little chaotic #and hey looks like I missed the anniversary of this blog. I've been here for a whole year that's wild.#but here's some more of whatever this is #I put SO much effort into finding a reasonably contemporary name that could semi-plausibly be unisex #I also wasn't quite sure I ever wanted to pick a name for Eddie's wrist bc the whole point is that it doesn't matter!#ultimately though it felt like it was building up an unnecessarily mysterious vibe. idk.#anyway my favourite writing game is 'show that the POV character is fucked up in ways they do not understand or acknowledge'

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heliads · 10 months

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I love you writing and I was hoping you could write Ben Florian x VK!Reader the reader is Lefou's kid. A soulmate AU where the negative things you think about yourself are marked on your soulmate's skin. Reader only has one or two things because Ben is from Auradon and has a good life and family. While Ben has around half a dozen. Reader is the one who gives Ben the love potion. During the lake scene they notice Ben is their soulmate and tries (but fails) to hide it thinking he deserves better

masterlist

There really is no good place for a prince. They are political figureheads in every sense of the phrase— too young to actually rule, too old to be allowed to skip state functions. They sit in corners of expensive meetings and cut ribbons in front of newly opened buildings, but they can’t do a whole lot except smile and pose.

Shame your friend seems so fixated on capturing one, then. It feels like you’ve just barely left the Isle of the Lost, only bid farewell to the entirety of your prior life experience hours ago, and yet already Mal is scheming about how to best tear down everything around you. If Prince Ben is the best way to fulfill her nefarious plans, then so be it.

The only problem is that you’re now involved in all of this, too. Mal wants a wand and so she’ll take a prince to get there, but as one of her best friends, you’ve been drafted into the plot to catch a prince. Ben won’t have any idea what’s coming. Shame, he would probably run if he had any clue.

Mal’s good at covering her tracks, though, she always has been. You can remember elaborate plans from when you were much younger to steal cookies or cloaks, spellbooks and shoes. At this point, hearing Mal tell you that she’s going to bewitch the crown prince of Auradon into falling in love with her shouldn’t surprise you, just the fact that she’s taken this long to come up with the idea.

Usually, you have no problem going along with Mal’s little adventures. They’re entertaining, at the least, a good way to pass a few days when you’ve already gone over every alleyway and hiding place on the Isle at least a dozen times in the last month. The issue is that you’re not on the Isle anymore, and maybe– just maybe– disrupting everything here isn’t entirely what you want to do.

Mal doesn’t know this, of course. None of your fellow VKs do. Every time they monologue and moan about how they can’t wait to get out of this place, you find yourself holding your tongue, biting back your real thoughts about how the school isn’t actually as bad as you feared. Sure, the constant judgment from the other children of princes and princesses isn’t all that fun, but Auradon Prep has its positives, too. For one thing, you think your soulmate might be here.

What a terrible thing for the child of a villain to prioritize. You’ve heard Mal scoff at the idea of a soulmate, and although Evie is certainly more interested in the idea than some of your other friends, you’re still not sure that you’d find a welcome audience amongst their ranks when it comes to tracking down your soulmate. After all, the odds of that soulmate being from Auradon and not the Isle are pretty high. They’ve all but told you that themselves.

All things considered, for a society with such control over magic and spells, it’s pretty difficult to find your soulmate. You’d always wondered why those in charge couldn’t shorten the whole affair to something more simple– a name on the wrist, perhaps, or an invisible string that only the two of you could see– but instead, soulmate magic went the complicated route. How lovely.

The story about the origin of the soulmate magic is convoluted and ancient, going back generations and changing with each family. The general consensus is that soulmates were created to preserve the sanctity of true love, with the idea that soulmates should be able to love each other entirely, flaws and all. So, when you think something negative about yourself, those very same thoughts will show up on the skin of your soulmate, something like a warning label for what they’re going to get themselves into.

This is all well and good for people with few negative thoughts, maybe they’ll have something here and there about a bad sports result or a poor test grade that their soulmate can chuckle over before meeting them. For you, though? You, the child of a villain, cursed to live forever on a too-small island with the other convicts and criminals, you have had more fears and hated things about yourself than most. Your soulmate must be covered in unhappy musings, which only makes you feel worse about yourself than before. A self-perpetuating cycle of the worst kind.

By contrast, the startling absence of your soulmate’s negative thoughts on your own skin makes you certain that they couldn’t be from the Isle of the Lost. There are only one or two fears on your skin, proof of loving parents and a stable home, and they’re minor things like a bad hair day or a fear of not doing their absolute best. These change, often leaving every few months to be replaced by something else insignificant.

What makes you most certain that your soulmate is the child of a royal is the one negative thought that has stayed on your skin since the very beginning. Your soulmate, whoever they are, is terrified that they will let down the king and queen. Only someone with close ties to the royalty could have such a fear, so it’s proof that your soulmate is somewhere here on Auradon.

So maybe you don’t want to leave this place, not yet. Not until you can learn who your soulmate is. It’ll be almost impossible to track them down on this information alone, but supposedly that’s how the whole thing is supposed to work. You learn about the worst parts of your soulmate, and then you get to love the best of them. The only problem is that you’re fairly sure that if your soulmate is a royal, they won’t want to love you at all.

It’s easier to ignore the whole affair. Easier to agree to Mal’s plan when she proposes enchanting Prince Ben. At least another one of your friend’s schemes will keep your mind off the soulmate affair.

That’s what you tell yourself, at least, but your conscience is starting to get steadily more vocal as the days go by. Ben is a nice guy, which hurts, surprisingly. Although the love spell may have been cast on Mal, as one of Mal’s closest friends, you’re around the two of them all the time. The boy you see is someone that you wish could be your soulmate. He may be a prince, and you may be a villain, but he makes you want to believe in love after all.

You certainly have the capacity for such musings. For some reason, the love spell didn’t take all that well, and although Ben is now compelled to stay with Mal more than he was before, it’s not like he’s totally obsessed with her as Mal had hoped. Mal claims it’s because love spells can never work fully due to the soulmate issue, like having a soulmate is a kind of shield to protect you against that sort of enchantment, but regardless, Ben has just enough independent thought that he can tell you jokes and try to make you smile like– well, like he tries to do with Mal.

The realization that Ben is a genuinely good person, and worse, someone you don’t want to trick, haunts you as you fall further into Mal’s scheme. You’ve been trying to push the whole thing from your mind, letting Ben join your soulmate in the depths of your mind you don’t want to touch, but your train of thought keeps circling back to him despite your best attempts otherwise.

Besides, it doesn’t help that Mal keeps trying to involve you in the plot. Right now, the two of them are at the Enchanted Lake, out on a cute little date. Mal had been making mock disgusted faces at you the whole time she was getting ready, but some part of yourself can’t stop whispering that this doesn’t seem so bad, actually, that the thought of being out here alone with Ben would make for a wonderful day instead of the tedious chore Mal is making it out to be.

Ben doesn’t know you’re here, though. Mal wanted backup in case something happened, so you’re lingering in the woods to keep anyone from stumbling upon the scene and also holding onto more magical baked goods in case Mal feels the need to renew the spell. It’s kind of like torture, strolling through this beautiful forest, knowing that Ben is so close and you are helping hold him under the thrall of this plot.

The storm in your mind must be thundering too loudly for you to think straight, because you lose track of yourself and accidentally walk too close to the lake. You weren’t supposed to be spotted, but before you can back away and melt back into the foliage, Ben looks up and sees you. You panic, immediately heading the way you’d come, but you hear footsteps after you moments later and Ben manages to track you down before you can go too far. Mal is so going to kill you for messing with her plan.

“Sorry,” you murmur, eyes wide when he finally catches up to you, “I didn’t realize the two of you were– I’ll go now.”

Ben shakes his head. “No, no, it’s alright. It’s not like we have a monopoly on the woods.”

He’s dripping water, most likely due to a recent dip in the lake, and you can’t seem to stop your gaze from following the path of the droplets as they cascade down his shoulders, across his hands, and, most importantly of all, over the swooping letters of the fears of his soulmates.

Usually, Ben wears long sleeves or something else to hide them. You can see why now– there are many of them, many more than you, perhaps half a dozen in all. You can’t read all of them from where you’re standing, just snippets about how a villain’s kid shouldn’t have a soulmate, how they’ll never amount to much, things like that. Things like what you’ve been thinking recently.

Ben must catch on to your train of thought, because he smiles weakly, absentmindedly scratching at a sentence proclaiming that his soulmate isn’t worth the good luck they get. “Yeah, my soulmate’s a little stressed, I guess. Hopefully, I can talk about that with them soon. I want them to know that they’re worth it, wherever they are.”

It had never occurred to you that hating yourself would make your soulmate this obsessed. You have no proof that Ben is your soulmate but–

But, as you watch, you can see a new fear appearing out of nowhere, wrapping itself around Ben’s left wrist. I’m not good enough for a soulmate this good. Just what you were thinking mere moments ago. It’s like proof.

Ben looks up slowly, and although you were never blessed with the ability to read minds, you swear you can tell exactly what he’s thinking right now. “Are you–” he starts, ends, tries again, “Do you know who your soulmate is?”

You can do several things at this moment. You can confirm what you’re mostly sure is true, you can lie, you can pretend you hadn’t heard him. You spot movement in the trees behind him, a flash of purple, and remember belatedly that Mal is still somewhere at the Enchanted Lake, waiting for Ben to come back and wondering why you’re holding him here for so long.

All of a sudden, the reality of the situation comes crashing down around your shoulders. This is not something that can happen. Ben is a prince. You are the child of a villain, and the friend of another VK who’s counting on you to continue fooling Ben so she can pursue her latest mad plan. There is no world in which this works out.

So, you force a smile, banishing all thoughts back into the deep recesses of your brain once more. “No,” you say, “I don’t know. I think they’re a VK, though.”

Ben’s face falls in a flash. “Really? Because I thought–”

You shake your head quickly. “I don’t– it’s not me. I think Mal is waiting for you, though. You shouldn’t keep her for long.”

Ben glances back over his shoulder in memory of the girl he’s left somewhere in the woods behind him, and when he looks back, you’re gone. You’re good at running. It’s a skill you’ve perfected over the years. You just never thought you’d have to use it now.

Prince Ben is your soulmate. Impossible. True. Mal comes back later that afternoon, tells you the date went splendidly despite your accidental intrusion. Ben must not have let the brief moment in the woods faze him for long. It hurts more than you care to admit.

There is only so much running a VK can do, try as they might to pretend otherwise. You avoid Ben at all costs, hoping that whatever foolish war is currently being fought inside your heart will come to a tolerable ceasefire if you just ignore it long enough. Mal tells you that the plan is going swimmingly, she’s never seen the prince more excited about the VKs and the upcoming coronation. You nod and smile and tell her that you’re glad everything is going to plan, but inside, you cannot seem to stop your mind from screaming.

And then, all of a sudden, despite your best attempts to remain out of sight, Prince Ben finds you. It’s completely out of the blue, so casual that you almost don’t realize it’s happening until he’s sitting down at your table in the library and it’s too late to run.

You feel like an animal caught in a trap. He’s just smiling like nothing is the matter. “I know it’s you,” he says by way of hello.

Your heart is stuck in your throat. “What?”

“I know it’s you,” Ben repeats, “I know you’re my soulmate. I had the Fairy Godmother do a little spell so I could check for you, but I think I knew since that day at the lake.”

You frown. “You can do that?”

He shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. “Not everyone can, I think. But I, uh, insisted.”

You grin. “Prince privileges?”

“Something like that.” He’s smiling, though, maybe pleased that you’re not trying to run off this time. “But you knew even without the spell, didn’t you?”

That does shake your uncertain sense of calm. “Yes,” you admit, “but I didn’t think you— I didn’t think it would work out.”

The look on Ben’s face is genuinely heartbreaking. “What, just because I’m a prince?”

He says it so casually, it’s almost funny. “Yes, Ben, because you’re a prince and I’m a VK. I mean, my dad was Lefou. He literally tried to ruin the happy ever after of your parents, why would you want someone like me to be your soulmate?”

“Same reason you shouldn’t be afraid to want me. You’re not your father, Y/N, and I’m not my parents. We’re just us, and I know that I want you to be my soulmate. I have since the start. I was hoping you would tell me you knew, but after a few days went by and you still said nothing, I figured I had to take matters into my own hands. Even if that meant using a spell or two.”

You keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to laugh in your face and tell you it’s ridiculous to think that he would ever want a VK as a soulmate, but he doesn’t. In fact, you don’t think he ever will. As impossible as it seems, Ben wants someone who isn’t from a perfect fairy tale. He wants you. And that, lovely and wonderful and absolutely crazy, sounds like a fairly good happily ever after for you.

disney tag list: @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed

#ben florian #ben florian imagines #ben florian x reader #ben florian oneshot #descendants #descendants imagines #descendants x reader #descendants oneshot #disney #disney imagines #disney x reader #disney oneshot #descendants ben #descendants ben imagines #descendants ben x reader #descendants ben oneshot

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midnightwriter21 · 11 months

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demon slayer hcs: giyuu meeting soulmate!reader

characters: giyuu x fem!kamado!reader, tanjiro x sister!reader, nezuko x sister!reader, sanemi (mentioned), shinobu (mentioned), urokodaki (mentioned)

warnings: blood, family death, fighting, reader is the oldest Kamado sibling

AN: soulmate au where the first words your soulmate says to you is tattooed somewhere on your body!! this is the longest soulmate hcs i’ve written lol

GIYUU

you decide to spend the night over at a friends house late one night

you begin the walk home the next day at around noon

and when you return home you find your entire family slaughtered, laying in pools of their own blood

and your little brother Tanjiro and little sister Nezuko are missing

in tears, wondering what the hell happened and where your siblings are, you fail to notice the men and women approaching your home

when they get to you they explain who they are

they are the kakushi for the demon slayer corps

they check you for injuries and explain what had happened

a demon attacked your family

and your missing brother and sister are most likely dead

in a fit of rage the need for vengeance fills you

and you ask how you can become a slayer

the kakushi bring you to the butterfly mansion where you meet the head of the demon slayer corps

and filled with sympathy for you but sensing your potential, he assigns a hashira to be your mentor

and not just any hashira

The Wind Hashira

Sanemi Shinazugawa

the hot headed hashira with the deepest hatred for demons, the harshest training, and an undeniable disliking towards the water hashira, whom you haven’t met

with just a month of training, you’re headed to the Final Selection

unsurprisingly, due to your training with sanemi, you pass with flying colors

over the course of the next year, you practically fly up the ranks

being sent on several missions, training with sanemi, and of course, still grieving the loss of your siblings, Tanjiro and Nezuko

you become friends with most of the hashira due to your status of being the wind hashira’s tsuguko

but still not meeting the infamous water hashira that your teacher seems to hate

it isn’t until you receive a letter from the previous water hashira, Sakonji Urokodaki

that everything changes

he has heard of your fast progress and skill

and when hearing your last name, he realized that his newest student is your family

your little brother is alive

he passed the final selection

and he’s currently on a mission

a mission that several slayers have died on

a mission that required two hashira due to the amount of casualties

after reading the letter you practically fly out of the wind hashira’s estate

abandoning your daily training

barely hearing Sanemi’s outraged and confused yelling at your departure

running as fast as possible toward the forest that Tanjiro is supposed to be stationed in

you arrive

quickly taking off the head of a demon with the flick of your wrist as you pass by

faintly seeing the outline of a man with a mismatched haori in the corner of your eye

but continuing forward

toward your brother

faster

faster..

even faster…

you arrive

arrive just in time to block the killing blow heading towards your brother..

standing in front of Tanjiro in a defensive position with your back to him

your eyes lock onto the demon that was attacking your brother

Lower Rank 5

one of the twelve kizuki

you are so focused that you can barely hear Tanjiro whisper your name in shock

surely he thought you were dead

turning your head to softly smile at him over your shoulder you say,

“it’s alright, tanji. i’m here now.”

then, you feel a drop land on your face

a drop of blood

you look up to find your baby sister

covered in blood and tangled in the demons webs

a demon herself

in shock you stammer her name

this distraction gives lower rank 5 the opportunity to attack

he launches an attack toward you

you don’t have the time to block it

but you don’t have to

the man you caught a glimpse of earlier with the checkered haori leaps in front of you, blocking the strike

with him taking on the demon, you take the chance to leap into the air and cut the webs holding your sister

catching her as she falls, you can’t tear your eyes from her demonic form

Urokodaki did NOT mention this in his letter to you…

looking up at the sound of a head hitting the floor you realize that the man had delivered the killing blow to the attacking demon

as he turns to walk towards you and your sister, sword at the ready, nezuko stands in front of you defensively

“NO! DONT! SHE’S MY BABY SISTER” you plead, practically in tears

his eyes widen in shock

shock from the revealed information perhaps?

possibly from pity…?

or… is that… realization?

and then, in a split second he moves behind you

and the loud ‘clang’ of two swords colliding reach your ears

he had blocked the sword of another hashira

Shinobu, the insect hashira had attempted to take the life of your little sister

realizing that he was defending you, you took the chance

grabbing your brother and sister by the hand you run

and you keep running until you hear a crow telling you to report to the butterfly mansion with your brother and sister in tow

as you begin the journey to the butterfly mansion, tanjiro informs you of the events he experienced over the last year

in turn, you tell him of your experiences

arriving at the mansion, you are greeted with the sight of the hashira

normally, you would greet the people you call friends but today they are against you

when choosing between your family or your friends

you would choose your family, everytime

glancing between the highly ranked slayers, you see the quiet man in the mismatched haori

and since the only hashira that you haven’t met is the water hashira

you can safely assume that it’s him

when the meeting starts the master announces that both Urokodaki and Giyuu Tomioka have both put their lives on the line to vouch for Nezuko

Giyuu…

that’s his name.

the appreciation and admiration that surges through you at hearing the way he is supporting your sister is unreal

but your admiration is stopped in its tracks by the arrival of your mentor

you physically wince at Sanemi’s hard gaze, drawing an almost unnoticeable puzzled look from Giyuu

after the meeting ends and after a rather loud scolding from Sanemi

you turn to Giyuu and express how thankful you are for his help, and for his support for your sister

and he speaks to you for the first time,

“what kind of person would I be if i didn’t help my soulmate when she needed it.”

at his words, your heart stops

time freezes

your own wide eyes staring up into his calm ocean blue eyes in shock

you are physically frozen in shock

feeling the eyes of the other hashira staring at him he grabs you by the shoulder and leads you away from the prying gaze of the slayers

and then steps away, turning his back to you and pulling his hair over his shoulder exposing the back of his neck to you

exposing his soulmate tattoo to you

“NO! DONT! SHE’S MY BABY SISTER”

printed in your very own handwriting on his pale skin

you somewhat recover from your shock, softly tapping his shoulder to have him face you

and then copying his actions, you turn your back to him exposing the words printed onto your own neck

“what kind of person would I be if i didn’t help my soulmate when she needed it.”

sanemi was NOT happy to hear that his tsuguko is giyuu’s soulmate

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wonryllis · 3 months

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𓍼⠀ YOU, MY FATE COME AND KISS ME.

𝒏o𝓉ℯs. park jongseong x fem!reader 𖥔 ݁ fluff-angst, soulmate au LIB? word count `425 for @okwonyo valentine event!

jay thinks he's stuck in a loop.

a never-ending turn of events that cage him beyond the lights of universe. for everyday it feels like he falls in love with you all over again. a trick of heaven, a path weaved so carefully by fate, a red string tying him to you to the ends of his breath.

in a world of destiny, you are his paradox.

since the age of ten, jay has known his soul is bound to another for life, for love, for everything in between and apart. he has spent all his birthdays waiting for the one where the chosen name will etch itself onto his skin, telling him the time has come. but twenty-two and the wheel of cupid is yet to stop. perhaps it's because of you. three seasons spent together, and the guy is smitten. wishing everyday for you to be his other half.

"does this look good on me?" your voice echoes into the silence in the room, an ever quiet jay hoping for things to stay the same every year. to be away from you would be like death to him.

"you look as gorgeous as always, tell me how i got this lucky," his hands wrap around the curve of you waist and he rests his head on your shoulder, eyes locking through the mirror. the scent of your lotion like an ardent addiction. to think maybe someday he could never smell it again would be like stab of grief.

"honestly i am the lucky one, now we only have to wait for this," the words are just above a whisper, a small smile dancing on the tips of your lips, as you stare at your wrist— the place where jay's name is supposed to show up.

"whatever happens i know i'll only love you," jay leaves a fleeting kiss on your lips, arms holding you tight as if you'd slip away.

"now let's go my pretty valentine," you laugh at the way he tries to wink provocatively, and jay feels the arrow struck through his heart hurt for the nth time. a churning in his stomach evoking a desperate yearn for you, for the spot on his wrist he thought to have reserved for you sits another name.

no matter what happens, he knows you're his forever and he'll fight against all odds for that. even if it means fighting his own self.

"this is gonna be the best date ever i promise," his world revolves around you and it always will.

taglist. ( open ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly

#enhypen imagines #k-labels #⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡴꪫ 💌⭐ TiPT୨ৎE ᭡#enhypen drabbles #enhypen fluff #enhypen soft hours #enhypen soft thoughts #enhypen reactions #enhypen headcanons #enhypen jay imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen heeseung imagines #enhypen jake imagines #enhypen sunghoon imagines #enhypen sunoo imagines #enhypen jungwon imagines #enhypen niki imagines

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 1 month

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1.2k / 18 / soap soulmate au, part 1

...

You're Soap's enemy. One of Graves' Shadows. You just betrayed him, and now he's seeing his name tattooed across your skin. The Las Almas night nearly eclipses the soulmark's inky color. But it's there, clear as day. He can't wrap his adrenaline-addled mind around it.

He ghosts up behind where you're posted--pacing, patrolling, on the lookout for him--and wraps his hand around your mouth. You react in surprise, grabbing his wrist. But before you can twist out of his grasp, he slides the blade of your fallen Shadow's knife against your back.

If you're his soulmate, it changes nothing. He'll still be one man against dozens, chances slim to none that he'll make it out of this alive. But he has to know.

"You," he growls. "What's your name?"

You still. You're trained to keep a cool head under far more extreme circumstances than this.

"Your name," Soap repeats, voice like gravel.

He loosens his grip just enough to let you speak.

You release a slow breath out. "Classified."

He increases the pressure of his knife against your back. "That bastard Graves trusts you, aye? Not many others posted this way. Nobody'll find you for awhile." He presses the tip of the knife back into the fabric of your uniform. He'll keep the pressure there until he gets what he wants. "Your full name."

You say nothing for a long moment. But then, you see no reason to die overlooking these twisting Las Almas alleyways. You tell him your full name.

It confirms what he already knows. It's the name printed on his own skin, the name he's repeated to himself thousands of times over. The knife disappears from your back.

"Look at me," he tells you.

You push his arm away and turn on him, drawing your sidearm and training it at his chest. You step back, looking him up and down. "You're the one we're looking for. Aren't you? Capture or kill--" Your voice falters when you see he pulls his shirtsleeve up, revealing his own soulmate. He doesn't give you one goddamn second to try to deny it or turn your eyes away the way you've been trained. Your name. Tattooed on your target's arm.

Seeing you eye to eye, Soap's breath catches in his throat. His own name on the side of your neck is clear as day to him now.

"You're her," he says, still not quite believing it.

You take another step back. What are you supposed to do? You should shoot him, yes, but could you even make your finger pull the fucking trigger now? You lower your gun, but you don't put it away.

"You should go," you tell him, voice low. "Now."

But he doesn't move. He wants to take this moment in, study your face, memorize every detail. You're the real thing. His blue eyes stay locked onto yours, and a myriad of scenarios play through his mind, just like yours. What happens if he leaves? Will he be able to find you again?

He takes a step toward you.

"Don't do that," you warn him, sliding back a step to keep the same distance between you. "Don't make me hurt you."

"You wouldn't." He moves for you now with the confidence of a man who believes that, too. He wants to touch you again. Just to make sure you're really here. His voice is rough and thick. "I need to look at you."

You bite down on a gasp when your heel knocks against the wall. He's getting too close. You can't let your control on the situation slip. You can't forget why you're here or what will happen if Graves finds out about this.

"Back off," you warn him again. You still have your sidearm in hand, but you're terrified he's right--pointing it at him is an empty threat.

"Can't."

He moves in close to you, his breath hot on your neck. You swear you can feel his body heat through the layers of both your uniforms. Your nerves are on fire. His scent is everywhere. This can't be happening. Not now. It should be a dream, meeting your soulmate, but it's a nightmare.

"Listen to me," you force out. "They'll find you and kill you. Leave. Now."

"Can't." Soap is close enough to whisper it into your ear. His hands close around your arms. "Can't think straight with you in front of me." His gaze darkens as he pushes forward, pressing you into the wall and pinning you there. If he's not going to live to see morning, he's going to kiss you. He has to taste you.

You hear another Shadow under you, boots thudding against the metal stairs, scaling up to your lookout perch.

You try to fight the panic welling up in your throat. You could both be shot for this. Killed for it. Worse.

You can't let them see him. If you give him what he wants, he'll go, right?

You grab his collar and pull him forward, meeting his lips in a searing kiss. His lips feel like stubble and taste like blood. He shudders, feeling your body suddenly pressed against his. He deepens the kiss. He's starving, but it's not enough. Just the taste and feel of you isn't enough. His fingers weave into your hair and he pulls you close, pressing even harder against your body.

You forget yourself for a moment. Your brain chemistry shifts hard, heat and want burning in your veins.

Then you hear voices from below and reality washes over you again. With a strangled groan, you push him away. "God damn you. Hide."

Soap has to force himself to let you go. It takes every ounce of control to keep from reaching for you again. But the look in your eyes when you push him away... he knows you've crossed a line.

He disappears the moment two more Shadows crest the top of the iron staircase.

You avoid rousing suspicion as you lie to your allies' faces, reporting no sightings of either target. By the time you're forced to leave your post and follow the others back to the nearest rendezvous point, you're resigned to never seeing him again. It's better not to wonder.

All you can think about are his fingers weaving into your hair, his lips on yours, the burning grip of his hands around your wrists. You tell yourself not to think about it... but then your mind goes back to it, over and over. No matter how much you tell yourself it's better not to fantasize.

Even when you learn he evaded capture, he's a wanted man. A dead man walking. You're better off pretending you never saw your name tattooed on his skin.

...

There is no other thought on Soap's mind but you long after he slips away into the Las Almas night. The sight of you leaving with the other Shadows haunts him when he closes his eyes. He wakes up adrenalized, thinking about you in his hands, his heart pounding like it could punch through his rib cage.

His soulmate got away, and the weight of regret is setting in.

...

[part 1] / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8

more Soap / masterlist tag

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thatoneneuvichiliauthor · 28 days

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Angsty musing of the night : Aventio/Ratiorine Soulmate AU where Ratio is oblivious to the real identity of his soulmate because the name written on his wrist isn't Aventurine, but Kakavasha. Aventurine, on the other hand, is perfectly aware that they're soulmates, but stays silent about it because he is so damn scared Ratio will suffer the same fate as his family if he starts getting attached to him.

(Then Ratio discovers the truth, either through deduction or by learning Aventurine's birth name, and finds just the right words to convince Aventurine that it's safe for them to be together, because I cannot stand unhappy endings, especially when it comes to those two)

#aventio #ratiorine #aventurine #hsr aventurine #dr ratio #hsr dr ratio #it's not the only soulmate au headcanon I have about them #but the other one is a bit long and it's late #So I'll just write it down another day #rambling

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dewdropdinosaur · 2 months

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Go Heavy on the Red

ALASTOR x (F) READER

Summary: SOULMATE AU. To say that you never thought you were made for love would be an understatement. All your life, black was all you knew. Black ink and a faded tattoo. Till you died and met him

Warnings: Mentions of death, drunk driving, dugs, alcohol, and sex. Rating: PG-13

For the lovely @anon-of-the-void

Requests are OPEN

In the chaotic realm of Hell, where demons and lost souls roamed endlessly, there existed a peculiar demon named Alastor. With a penchant for mischief and a flair for the dramatic, he ruled over his domain with unmatched charisma and power. But beneath his imposing exterior lay a longing, a desire for something more profound than the endless cycle of torment and chaos that he so loved.

All his life, Alastor’s wrist had been adorned with perfect neat red cursive spelling out the words ‘Going heavy on the red, huh?’. Whoever you were, your handwriting was pristine, perfect for someone like him. Yet, despite this, Alastor never truly believed that he would ever find the soulmate behind the words inked upon him. His tattoo was in red…his soulmate was alive or not yet born. A strange phenomenon for a soulmate not to be born within one’s time but then again Alastor was a strange phenomenon in and of himself.

You were no different. To say that you never thought you were made for love would be an understatement. All your life, black was all you knew. Black ink and a faded tattoo. ‘New to the whole being dead thing my dear?’ Your soulmate was dead, you always wondered how. You were born with the ink so black and murky that it looked like a void space. The handwriting was a fine print, definitely from a time long past. It looked as though it was printed by an old typewriter or someone who had an orderly and steady hand. Crisp and clean. Maybe your soulmate was like that too?

But fate is an even crueler mistress, and despite laying on the load of soulmates from different eras - your mortal thread was also fragile. As the years passed, your time on Earth drew to a close and when you closed your eyes for the last time after being slammed into by a drunk driver - you awoke not to pearly white gates but deep dark brimstone ones. Your bearings were slim and despite trying to orient yourself to your new environment, nothing was working.

Slowly working your way along the smoky streets, you peered upon an ad for a hotel - the Hazbin Hotel to be precise. The ad was clearly hand drawn with what seemed to be childish crayon but nonetheless the happy picture seemed to stand out amongst the dismal exterior. Following the directions, the streets you walked were perilous. Screaming, crying, the heavy smell of alcohol, sex, and sin filled your nose. Holding your stomach, you convinced yourself that expelling the contents of your stomach right before you approach a hotel didn’t seem like the best idea. You would at least wait to find a decent bathroom…if there was such a thing in this place. In fact, where were you anyway?

Soon, you came to gaze upon an older structure with a giant vacancy sign. Entering the Hotel, you observed your surroundings. A…cat…stood at the bar with a…spider demon there too? A shorter hyperactive woman ran around with a knife…and were those walking eggs?!

“OH MY GOSH!! Hello~! Welcome to the Hotel, my name is Charlie!” Without warning a younger woman with blonde hair and a red suit came up and shook your hand furiously. Dazed and confused, you shook back slowly.

“Oh, hello.”

“So wonderful sinner, would you like a room?”

“Wait, um sinner? I..I am not a sinner.”

“But you are—oh. OH. I see. You’re new!”

“Umm..new to what exactly?”

“Oh, this…this is Hell. You…died?”

“Oh.”

Suddenly, it all made sense. You saw the headlights, he sped through the red light. Crash. Now..now you’re here. Not in your car where you were. But here. In Hell. Hell, the supposedly a fiery pit of destruction and seduction that held the most enigmatic and psychotic of characters.

“Well, let’s get you settled in! Come on, I want to introduce you to everyone!”

Grabbing your arm and dragging you around the Hotel, Charlie introduced you to everyone in an effort to get your bearings and settle down. Little did you know that from the shadows a figure lurked. Watching with glowing red eyes, Alastor peered and sized up this newcomer to the Hotel. Fresh meat was always a good idea and especially with all the changes going around, he felt a need to grasp onto some entertainment. Distract himself with unworthy souls who would fail here spectacularly.

His soulmate tattoo had turned black this morning and his mind began to reel with all the possibilities. Would his soulmate be in Heaven or in Hell like himself? Would fate be too cruel again and separate them not only across time but planes of death? Throughout the day, his wrist started to burn with a fiery pain. They were close…and as this newcomer approached the Hotel, his interest peaked. Maybe they knew something, he would find out sooner or later.

“Alastor, where are you? We have a new guest for you to meet! Oh, he may be a bit creepy but just don’t try and focus on that.”

With a flicker of shadow, Alastor appeared in front of you in all his 1930s red pinstripe radio glory. His voice was static with radio waves, he extended his hand to you.

“Going heavy on the red, huh?”

Static crackle. His grip tightened around your own as he heard your words. With an evil crackle he spoke with a smirk.

“New to the whole being dead thing my dear”

Alastor's grin widened as he reached out, grasping your hand and drawing closer to his wrist.

"Look closely, my dear," He started tracing the intricate patterns etched into their skin. "Do you see it?"

Your eyes widened in awe as you beheld the tattoos adorning their wrists, glowing softly amidst the darkness of Hell. "It... it's...," you trailed off, breath catching in your throat.

"Our soulmate tattoos," Alastor finished, his voice softening with an unexpected tenderness. "Fate's cruel joke on us my dear has come to an end."

For a moment, you were speechless, heart pounding with a mixture of wonder and disbelief. "I... I never imagined..." you began, voice trailing off as you searched for the right words.

But before you could speak further, Alastor locked his gaze with yours in an unspoken promise. Manipulation has its place and it was Alastor’s preferred tool.

"In this realm of chaos and despair, we may have found each other against all odds," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the din of Hell. "But together, my dear Y/N, we shall defy fate itself."

And as they stood there, their souls intertwined in a bond that transcended the boundaries of Hell, you knew that they had found not only their salvation, but also your truest companion amidst the darkness. Alastor knew that he had found his only weakness, the tinge of his dark black heart beating once again. Feelings he knew were real despite his aversion to such moments. Maybe hiding and indulging in this one weakness wouldn’t be so bad after all.

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