#one is a soulmate the other is confused on why the one wants to know them so bad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miraclewoozi · 4 months

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DO YOU DREAM OF ME? - c.hs

the first time you kiss your soulmate, you’ll open your eyes to a world of colour. the problem? vernon hates the thought that he might pull away from you and still see in monochrome. or, five times he wanted to plant one on you, and the one time you beat him to it.

pairing ; vernon x gn!reader. content ; all the tropes. 5 times fic. soulmate au. slight college au if you squint. f2l. fluff, some angst. pining. one (1) hint of suggestiveness if u squint. MINORS STILL DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT. content notes ; mentions of reader having a(n unnamed) partner & thereafter, going through a breakup due to said partner cheating. reader is maybe implied to be shorter than him but hopefully not too obviously or frequently. alcohol is mentioned & is a key theme in scene #3. pov switch for the final part (necessary for logistical reasons.) PLEASE let me know if i've forgotten anything. w/c ; 9.6k note ; welcome to thee most self indulgent fic ever lmao. i hope u enjoy this slight break away from what i usually post here (as if my entire brand isn’t writing losers in love. ANYWAY) -- this was very fun and a little bit special for me! <3

“What was your first kiss like?”

Initially, Vernon swears he just didn’t hear you right. It’s dark up here, where you’re hiding away from a party on the roof of his university accommodation and he’s starting to get tired. There’s some sort of siren wailing away in the distance to his left, and on the street below, a gaggle of freshmen are cackling as they walk past the building. His ear closest to you is currently listening to your favourite song.

All the signs suggest that he simply got it wrong.

But he doesn’t know if he believes those signs, especially not seeing as when he looks over at you, you’re staring pointedly up at the stars overhead. He doesn’t doubt that you’re giving yourself an ache in your neck in the process, too.

“Hmm?” He asks, taking out the earphone that connects him to you. The other one is still nestled away in your ear and he reaches to gently pull it away. “What was that?”

You still don’t look at him, but you do repeat yourself. Quietly. “What… was your first kiss like?”

“Oh.”

He was right.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you hurry to say, hugging his jacket tighter around yourself to block out the cold air that blows across the rooftop. He shrugged it off and told you to take it the very moment your teeth started chattering — almost an hour ago now. His arms are bare, shoulders and biceps only covered by a t-shirt so thin it’s practically sheer, but he isn’t cold. He’s always run hotter than most. “Sorry.”

He nudges you with his knee, silently telling you that you don’t need to apologise. He doesn’t mind — you just caught him off guard; Vernon hasn’t given this any thought in a long time, and he has to really put his mind to coming up with an answer. It was forever ago — when he was eleven or twelve, maybe, with his first ever girlfriend. They dated for a whole two and a half weeks. He doesn’t know if it really counts: the kiss was a dare, after all.

“Kinda…” He starts, trying to follow the line of your sight, wondering if he can find the exact stars you’re looking at. “She’d just put this weird lipgloss on. It was real tingly. And like, neither of us knew what we were doing? So it… got everywhere. I think I ended up swallowing some, I don’t know. My mouth felt weird after. Thought I was having an allergic reaction.”

You laugh softly at him. “I think that would put me off for the rest of my life,” you say.

“It almost did,” he chuckles. You hum at him and lean back on your elbows, leaving Vernon more than a little bit confused. He readjusts his hold on his knees, bringing them closer to his chest as he tilts his head down at you in your new position.

“…why?” He asks, just as you close your eyes and take a deep inhale of the cool air.

You just shrug. “I guess I just… wondered.”

He nods, and it’s his turn to fall short of a response, but that’s okay. You’ve known each other for too long for these silences to feel uncomfortable. He grew up with you. In fact, he’s reasonably sure he’s told you this story before. He must have done.

Then he realises, maybe he hasn’t. Because he doesn’t know the story behind yours, and maybe that’s just a line the two of you never came to crossing. He knows he told his other friends, back then, because he was the last one in his circle to have a first kiss and he felt like it made him more grown-up, or something. Naturally, he left out the more embarrassing details. But maybe you just told your other friends who weren’t him, and went on with your life. Maybe yours was just… normal.

Either way, he’s interested now. And there’s no time to ask like the present.

“What was yours like?” He asks, fiddling with the strap on his wristwatch. You don’t answer straight away; he doesn’t think anything of it, because neither did he, but when he’s still waiting for you to speak a small eternity later, he prompts you again. “Hey, it can't have been worse than mine.”

You snort.

“You’ll laugh at me,” you say, shaking your head. Vernon furrows his brows and drops his legs flat, twisting to one side to look at you.

He doesn’t know where you’d get that idea from, but he’s… almost a bit offended by it?

“No I won’t,” he tells you softly. Maybe at first, he might’ve laughed with you, if your story happened to be as dumb as his own. But not at you. Never at. Not when he’s been the butt of the joke in too many friendship circles, for about as long as he can remember.

You take a shallow breath, pursing your lips. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not…” you start to say, before you clear your throat and try again, this time heading in a different direction. “I don’t know. It’s dumb, I guess.”

“Don’t make me come down there,” Vernon threatens playfully, poking you in your side. You squirm, giggling despite yourself, despite the serenity of the sanctuary you two have found, despite the fact that you, too, were on the edge of falling asleep before your question came out of nowhere.

He pokes you again, and again, and then starts to tickle your ribs instead. You squeal, swatting his hands away to no avail and you move to sit up, grabbing him by the forearms to physically make him stop. The grin on Vernon’s face is wide and heart-shaped. A warm feeling spreads through him: it has everything to do with the sweet sounds of your slowly dissolving laughter.

You sit cross-legged across from each other like this for a moment or two. Your knees are touching. Your hands move down his arms until you’re holding him firmly by the wrists. Your eyes lock together: his crease with the sheer force of his boyish smile, while yours are narrowed, daring him to try and wiggle free and attack you again.

He doesn’t, but for the first time ever, he’s struck with the urge to do something maybe more scary.

The urge to just… lean in to you.

It makes his heart do a backflip, in a way that it hasn’t done since he had his last crush. His head goes empty, and he forgets what he was even asking you before: the only thoughts he can muster are ones regarding what your lips taste like, whether they’re half as soft as they look, if you’d lightly touch his shoulder or his arm or his chest or his cheek—

Do you smile when you kiss?, he wonders. Do you sigh? Do you—

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” you answer, looking away now and letting go of him. He’s gone so loose in the moments since you grabbed hold of him that when you’re not supporting their weight, his arms fall like two cinder blocks onto his knees.

True to his word, he doesn’t laugh. He’s surprised by your revelation, sure, but in no way humoured; actually, he feels a little saddened by it, for a reason he can’t put his finger to. He ends up not saying anything, just biting the inside of his cheek; he wants to ask why, but knows maybe that’s a bit of a dick move, and if it’s something you’re sensitive about he doesn’t want to risk hurting you.

But he’s watched people fawn over you for years, and he doesn’t think you’ve ever been short of attention from those who have thought you were attractive. So it can’t be that you’ve been lacking in chances? Surely?

“I thought… maybe I should save it,” you go on to explain. Your hands keep busy by playing with a thread at the cuff of his jacket sleeve, wrapping it around one finger until the skin beneath it pinches before you unravel it again.

“Save it?” He asks. You nod your head.

“For when I thought I’d found them.” You pause, swallowing hard. “Like I said, it’s s—.”

“No it’s not,” Vernon says abruptly, shaking his head. He holds onto you now, one hand slipping around your back until it rests on the shoulder furthest away from him. You scoff. He squeezes you into his side. “Hey. It’s not stupid.”

He doesn’t like how this admission has, somehow, made his desire to kiss you stronger. He hates that he feels even more drawn to you, a magnet finally finding its opposing pole. It freaks him out a little. He’s never wanted to kiss anyone this badly.

Red button theory, he tells himself to try and get back on the straight and narrow. If you hadn’t said anything, none of this would be happening.

“It’s romantic,” he says finally, swiping his thumb in small motions over the top of your shoulder. You nod, mumbling a ‘thank you’ (for what, he isn’t sure), and shiver. Vernon doesn’t know if that’s because of his proximity to you or because you’re finally starting to feel the cold. Either way, he takes the initiative to stand up and holds a hand out for you to take so he can tug you to your feet too. You get up with a little hop.

It’s… devastatingly cute.

“Where are we going?” You ask, brushing off your jeans before shoving your hands into the jacket’s pockets. He’s already on the retreat, walking backwards towards the door that took you up here.

“To get food,” he tells you, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That party was dead, anyway.”

It doesn’t cross his mind again until your twenty-first birthday.

He’s not your soulmate. He couldn’t be. The thought he had on the roof that autumnal night was little more than a passing fantasy; besides, he doesn’t have a thing for you. He doesn’t want to kiss you, or date you, or have you be his soulmate. The reason you work so well together is because you’re just friends; he thinks you’d drive each other crazy if things ever went romantic between you. You bicker with him for sport. He drowns away hours at a time with his headphones clamped over his ears and forgets to answer your texts. It would be a nightmare.

Not that he’s ever thought about all that. Not actively, or even passively. Not when he should be listening to college lectures instead, for example. Not awake, nor in his dreams. He hasn’t. Not once.

He swears.

“You can save it ‘til tomorrow, if you want.”

Vernon bounces his leg nervously, fidgeting with the edge of your comforter as you sit on the floor in front of him, styling your hair for your party. He arrived half an hour ago while you were still waltzing around in your bathrobe, holding a small, neatly wrapped box in both of his hands. It’s several degrees too warm in your bedroom. He feels a bead of sweat roll down his back as you grumble what seems to be a threat at a strand that won’t cooperate. Thankfully, you don’t seem to notice his discomfort. (If you do, he’s grateful that you don’t say anything.)

“But it’s my birthday today,” you pouted, taking the box from him. “Let me finish getting ready, then I’ll open it. Come on.”

His wrist still aches with the pressure you held onto him with as you dragged him up the stairs. Your parents are away for the weekend and the house is all yours, so there’s a speaker blasting your favourite playlist full volume on your nightstand and there’s nobody to tell you to turn it down. He flits his attention between his phone and watching you, but he can’t fully concentrate on either; he’s too nervous that maybe you won’t like his gift, and he’s never been the type to splash out on birthday presents before but this… well, it burned a hole in his wallet, that’s for sure.

“Okay. Wait here,” you tell him as you push up off the floor, limping on the leg that had started to fall asleep thanks to the way you were sitting.

“All right,” he says back. As if he’d go anywhere, anyway.

You grab a hanger from inside your closet and scurry off down the hall to the bathroom. For the first time, Vernon feels like he can actually breathe. He drops his phone onto the comforter between his crossed legs and cradles his head in his hands, telling himself that he needs to get it together. You’ve never not liked anything he’s given you, and you’ve known him now for more birthdays than you haven’t.

Your friends said you’d love it. So did your mother, with a sparkle in her eye as she held it delicately in her fingers. He has nothing to worry about. It’s only you.

And yet—

“You’ll be honest if it looks bad?” You call from the other side of the door, interrupting how his lips move wordlessly in an endless mantra of self-reassurances.

Vernon snaps his head up and he clears his throat, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “Aren’t I always?” He answers.

You click your tongue, evidently disagreeing, but you pull the handle and take a step into the room anyway. When you see him, he looks exactly as he did when you left, no trace of his anxieties anywhere to be seen on his face or otherwise.

When he sees you, he feels like the world could end any moment and he’d be okay with that.

His mouth runs dry and his eyes seem to be stuck open, unblinking, fixated on you in your all black outfit as you stand still as a statue with your hands behind your back. You cough quietly, waiting for some kind of a response other than a dumb stare, but it doesn’t come.

Eight seconds later… still nothing.

“Do you hate it?” you fret, because Vernon is a very good hype-man and you’ve never known him struggle to find something positive to say. “All right, uh— okay—”

“No!” He rushes, almost shouting in his urgency to assure you that that’s not the case at all. He scrambles up to his feet, taking a breath, and pushes a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, and he kind of hates how his fingers catch on a tangle even though he brushed it meticulously before he left his apartment. You keep telling him it looks good, though, so he hasn’t been to get it cut. “God, no. I’m sorry. You look amazing.”

It doesn’t sound like much to the untrained ear, but the warmth of his compliments comes less in the words he says and more in the sincerity he says them with. Your face softens, and Vernon can see the way the thoughts of changing into something else fizzle out behind your eyes. He takes a backwards step to try and tempt you further into your own bedroom, and you move in tandem with him, closing that space and coming better into the light.

“Wow,” he says, swallowing hard and looking you up and down. “I-… wow.”

It’s your turn to clam up, now. You look down at the floor, kicking at the carpet with your toes. “Shut up,” you say. “I’m not...”

“Yes, you are,” he protests, leaving no room for argument as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t know who you’re trying to impress but… yeah, it’s gonna work.”

You walk past him with a scoff, barging against his shoulder on your way; he dramatically staggers to the side, rubbing at the impact site, laughing. When he faces you again, you’ve picked the gift up from the end of your bed and are moving to sit on the mattress yourself. Your eyes flicker between Vernon and the empty space in front of you. He takes the hint, settling back down with one foot tucked beneath him, the other still planted on your rug.

His heart shoots back up into his throat and he stares down at the box, licking over his lips and frowning at how dry they feel. He glances away, lifting a hand to his mouth, running his fingertips over his lips. What would they feel like pressed against yours? He thinks, and then he cringes again.

You misread his reaction and hesitate with your finger pressed underneath a strip of tape, tilting your head at him. “What’s going to jump out at me when I open this?”

“Nothing,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. “What do you take me for?”

“The kind of guy who puts glitter in birthday cards because he thinks it’s funny,” you retort, earning a click of his tongue.

“That was one time!”

“One time too many.”

“I swear,” he laughs, tight shoulders easing, both hands falling to his lap. “No sparkles, no loud noises, nothing jumpy. Cross my heart.“

You eye him a little suspiciously but eventually tug your finger beneath the wrapping and make the first rip in the paper, allowing you to tear into the gift after keeping Vernon on edge for almost an hour and a half. You peel it away and it falls to the bedsheets, in your hands now a small, square box not too dissimilar a shade to your comforter. You look from it, to him, and he thinks you notice how his cheeks are a little darker than they were before.

He nods at you once and you slowly pull it open. On a plush, velvety bedding sits an elegant, dainty bracelet. A small gemstone is set in the metal of the bar in the middle of the chain. You skim a thumb over it, your breath held.

“Vernon,” you murmur, tearing your eyes away from the bracelet to look at him. Now, even the tips of his ears have grown flushed, but you’re kind enough not to comment on it to avoid spoiling the moment you’re in. “This is…”

“The lady in the store said it was your birthstone,” he says, twiddling his thumbs. “I mean… I’m really just taking her word for it, ‘cause they all look the same to me, but—”

He’s interrupted as all of your weight topples against him, arms thrown around his neck in a hug. He hesitates a moment before he wraps his own around your waist, drops his head to your shoulder and he smiles wider than he thinks he ever has. “Happy Birthday,” he says, dragging his thumb up and down over your hip.

“Silly,” you scold him playfully, still pressing wholly against him and showing no signs of moving. Your voice sounds thick, a little like you’re tearing up, so Vernon squeezes you tighter.

“I know you are,” he chuckles. “But what am I?”

You swallow hard, finally now pulling away from the hug but sitting entirely too close for comfort, one knee pressing into the outside of his thigh.

Your surprise attack has left him dishevelled. With a quiet apology, your fingers innocently try to smooth everything back into place, but Vernon doesn’t hear you say you’re sorry. His pulse, thundering in his ears, drowns it out while also skipping a beat with each little touch. You’re not looking into his eyes as you shyly put him back to rights, too busy working to tame his — at the best of times — unruly hair.

He’s looking into yours though, and he can’t stop.

Your eyes, which dart all over to find strands out of place, so your hands can move them to where they ought to sit and lay them down flat. Your eyes, that drop down the length of his throat as you realign the neck of his t-shirt over his broad shoulders.

Your eyes: the ones crinkled at the corners as you pick the bracelet back up from your bed and admire it under your bedroom light. Your eyes, landing on his, finally, in a silent plea for help.

“The best?” you answer, now, extending your wrist to ask him to put it on you. He takes the chain from your fingers and unclasps it, slipping it beneath your hand and holding it in place.

“I know you are,” he says again, but it’s quieter now as he concentrates on trying to reconnect the two pieces. “But what am I?”

When he successfully fastens your gift onto your arm, he looks up to see your watery eyes still staring down at it. He decides this is the time to reveal part two of the surprise. Pulling up the sleeve of his t-shirt, he reveals his own wrist to you, and you now see there’s a matching chain hanging off it. A little stone set in the metal. His stone, presumably. You choke out a laugh around your tears, shaking your head.

“You got us friendship bracelets,” you giggle, holding your hand next to his and admiring them together. Your skin touches and he feels butterflies erupt in his stomach, which he hasn’t felt around you since…

He nods, breathing a chuckle too. “Yeah,” he says. His heart is pounding. “I guess I did. Is… that okay?”

“I love them,” you insist, leaning forward to affectionately press your lips to his cheek. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Your doorbell sounds downstairs and Vernon’s words die in his throat. Maybe that’s for the best, though; he’s got so much nervous energy rising up inside him and he’s scared it might accidentally force up something he’ll regret saying. You spring off the bed again, fussing in the mirror, and he watches you rush out the bedroom warbling about how you’re not ready for anyone to be here yet. It’s too early. What’s going on? Who is it?

He shifts his legs so both his feet are planted on the floor, letting out a breath he doesn’t remember sucking in.

I love them. Thank you, you said.

It’s perfect.

He groans when he stands up, too, tugging his sleeve back down as he starts to follow after you.

“I know you are,” he mumbles under his breath, hearing your relieved laughter at it just being the FedEx man on your doorstep. It makes him feel warm. Everywhere. “But what am I?”

Five hours later, Vernon is seeing double.

He has Seungkwan’s hands massaging the tops of his shoulders and there are two Juns sitting across from him at your dining table. He remembers feeling fine around 9pm, distinctly: like nothing he drank was having any kind of effect on him. Like he could walk home on his hands — like he was invincible. Now, after spending exactly five minutes out in the fresh air, he’s blinking four times for every breath he takes and his friends’ voices keep phasing in and out of focus.

“But what if they’re not?” Vernon stresses for the eighth time, fingers clumsily peeling at the label on his bottle.

“And what if they are?” Jun tries. Again. Also, for the eighth time, because apparently when Vernon gets tipsy, his skull gets really really thick and nothing in the world can penetrate it. “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Vernon shakes his head, sitting back so heavily that his chair tips and he sends Seungkwan stumbling into the wall behind them. His friend gives up trying to rub the stupid out of him and settles into the chair at Vernon’s side instead.

“I don’t know-…”

“If you’re about to say you don’t know what you’ll do if it isn’t them, I’m putting you in an Uber and sending you home.” Seungkwan claps his hand down onto Vernon’s knee for good measure. “It’s not even been a day.”

Vernon groans, threading his fingers into his hair and tipping his head back. “It hasn’t, though,” he whines. “What if it’s been like this since… and I just kept ignoring…”

Jun and Seungkwan exchange a look. An exhausted one. They both know Vernon turns into a complete baby when he’s had a drink and can just about manage a trip to the bathroom without somebody holding his hand, but neither of them have seen him like this before. Neither of them want to see him like this ever again.

Hell, neither of them want to be dealing with him like this right now.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Jun’s (remarkably) calm voice repeats as he pushes up from his seat and glances towards the doorway. His ears lock onto a voice just beyond it, and in an instant, the older man recognises his chance at an exit. He casts an apologetic glance at Seungkwan, who has resorted to rubbing Vernon’s earlobes to try and get him to stop stressing, and he dips out before either of them can argue.

On his way, though, he throws in a sly little remark. One that raises Vernon’s– and Seungkwan’s– blood pressure to a level that would get them prescribed a week of strict bed rest.

“Besides – everyone can see the two of you were practically made for each other.”

Vernon whips around to face Seungkwan with shock written into every line of his face. It paints perfect full-signal WiFi creases on his forehead; it makes his jaw hang loose.

“I– what?” Vernon splutters, shooting a hand to the back of his head. Seungkwan hasn’t taken his eyes off the doorway since Jun slipped through it. Vernon doesn’t notice the fact that his older friend’s full genetic line is currently being cursed out. “What does he mean?”

“You don’t have to do anything tonight,” Seungkwan tries, now acutely aware of the fact that Jun has just given Vernon a nudge he should never have. There’s a fine line between bolstering a friend and straight-up causing chaos. This could get messy. Seungkwan doesn’t like messy.

But… It's too late.

Before Seungkwan can wrangle him back into his seat, Vernon has broken away from the table and is on the hunt for you. Seungkwan follows behind, doing his best to summon Vernon back, but he can’t. He’s on a mission now. And maybe that mission involves giving in to the thing that eats away at his brain when he should be waist-deep in music theory assignments. Maybe that mission is to finally, after two years, know what it feels like to kiss you. He’s going to find you, so help him God. He has to.

And yes. He does. He finds you, eventually. As soon as he reaches the top of the staircase, there you are.

Being pressed into the wood of your bedroom door, wrapped up in the arms of some pretentious looking art student in an oversized button-down and baggy, ripped jeans. Your mouth is covered by theirs, your fingers are threaded through those glossy fucking locks, both of you are laughing breathlessly as you drop one hand and it fumbles blindly to reach for the doorknob.

Vernon spins away, turning his back as he hears the door click. At this exact moment, Seungkwan comes stumbling up the stairs too and plants his forehead into Vernon’s sternum.

But his good friend’s skull is not the only thing Vernon is struck with, not the only thing knocking the wind out of him.

Simultaneously, he’s swept up with the sobering realisations that either this guy is your soulmate, or you’re not the same person you were when you were nineteen.

It’s eleven o’clock and two years later when he hears your secret knock on his apartment door.

Maybe it’s luck. Maybe it’s fate. He only took his noise cancelling headphones off a few minutes ago before he washed up and settled into bed; his head has hardly even had time to make a dent in the pillows. But whichever force is at play, the thing that matters is that he hears you and he knows it’s you, straight away. He doesn’t remember how it started, exactly. He thinks it might have been while he was in his exam-season hermit stage in his first year of university and refused to come to the door unless it was something important.

You’ve been knocking the same way for years now though, and he slides out of bed with creased brows at how desperate your fist sounds as it pounds against the wood. He pulls on an old t-shirt and perhaps the loosest fitting pair of shorts anyone’s ever owned, at least making himself decent before he answers. He’s still tying the drawstring when he gets to the door.

When he looks through the peep-hole to make sure he’s right, you’re drying your eyes on the back of your sweatshirt sleeve. You’re shivering quite violently, and you’ve got a bag on your shoulder that’s weighing you down on one side. Vernon’s heart sinks. He unbolts the door, pulling it open just as you lift your hand to knock again; your knuckles punch the air between you as your eyes land on him, and your bottom lip wobbles in despair.

You fall into his chest with a sob. Tears start to soak their way through his shirt until it clings to the skin underneath.

“Hey,” he soothes you, locking his arms so tight around you that there’s a strong chance they’re the only thing holding you upright.

“I didn’t— know where else to go—” you choke out, your arm trapped between your chest and his as he rests his head on top of yours and pats your back softly. “I’m s-”

“Don’t you dare,” he murmurs, tilting his chin down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “It’s okay. I’m here. You can always come to me.”

He holds you until your shakes start to subside, trying to talk you through whatever this is with soft reassurances and gentle shushing sounds. When you pull back from him, Vernon guides you into his apartment, flicking on the lamp in his living room so he can see to settle you down on his couch. He throws a blanket over your legs before he sits down himself, pulling your hand into his lap and holding it between both of his own, his thumb moving absently over your knuckles. You’re still crying, but when you shuffle against the seat to be a little more comfortable and finally turn to face him, he finds his voice long enough to ask you what happened.

“He kissed— kissed someone else,” you tell him, sniffling and shaking your head.

His blood reaches boiling point in what must be record time and he knows he accidentally starts to grip your hand tighter, but he can’t stop.

“He what?”

Vernon knows this guy wasn’t your soulmate. You told him, a few days after your birthday. You said everything was still black and white when you pulled back from the first of — what you spared no detail in explaining was — many, many, many kisses with him that evening. But you didn’t care. Not then, and not for the whole time you’ve been together.

He asked you about it once. About four months in (when he figured things were starting to get serious), late at night, if it bothered you. Whether you were going to keep seeing him. If you still thought about finding your soulmate. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget what your replying message said.

I mean, sure, I’m curious. But maybe I don’t need to see in colour. I think being in love is enough :)

So… you were in love.

With someone who wasn’t him.

He didn’t speak to anyone — not even you — for two whole days after that. He felt like he’d gone ten rounds with a peak-form George Foreman. He felt like he’d never be able to get rid of the pit that had developed in the depths of his gut. He couldn’t sleep, he could barely eat, he couldn’t focus: it was the worst he’d ever felt. And, well… Vernon knew it was immature. He knew he was acting like a child. If he could’ve shaken it off, the way he’s always done with so many of the things in his life that have bothered him, he’d have loved to. But he couldn’t.

Besides. Only about four people noticed his silence, anyway. You weren’t one of them; your boyfriend was keeping you plenty busy.

“He went to a club and got completely wasted and he— he—” you say, squeezing his hand even tighter than he’s holding yours. “But-… he says he-…” Hiccup. “Everything. Straight away — his…”

You don’t need to say it out loud; if anything, he’s a little disgusted with himself that he didn’t figure this out sooner. “His soulmate,” Vernon ruefully finishes for you. He groans the words out, feeling rotten to his core. “I’m so sorry…”

Your shoulders start to shake and he wastes no time in pulling you sideways against him, both his arms locked around you again, just like before.

“It’s so stupid,” you cry, laughing emptily. His stomach turns; he hates this. Your anguish is an assault on his eardrums, especially when he’s got you so close, but he tries so hard not to flinch, not to move away. You need him, no matter how agonised it makes him feel. “I knew he wasn’t mine, but I thought-…”

Your voice fades away to nothing. You shake your head.

“You thought he was happy the same way you were,” he finishes again. You just nod, sobbing harder. “That's not—… stop saying the way you feel is stupid.”

Vernon doesn’t understand how that loser could ever not have been happy with you. How could he dream about going out in search of something more? Hell, Vernon doesn’t think there’s a soul alive better than you — how could anyone stand to just throw you away?

He wonders briefly if you can hear his heartbeat, thundering in his chest with the rage he feels all the way into his bones. You’ve always told him that you admire how chilled out, how collected he is, but Vernon has never felt less calm in his entire life. It’s only as he acknowledges that he has no right to feel like this, that he takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to bring his fever down. You mimic him, trying to do the same, and by the time his pulse starts to settle, you’re back to just sniffling against his shoulder.

“Stay the night here,” he tells you. It isn’t a suggestion, or really even a request. It’s an order. There’s no room for negotiation. “We’ll go get your things in the morning. I’ll be right there with you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Vernon gets there before you do. Before you can protest the offers he’s made. Before you can ask him if he’s sure. He knows you, a little too well: he knows these are the words that are going to come out of your mouth next. “I’m with you, okay? Always.”

You sit back from him with a quiet chuckle, wiping your eyes again on your damp sleeve. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” you murmur. “You’re the best— the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He just rolls his eyes at you and shakes his head, standing up from the couch. (I know you are, he thinks. This isn’t the time for jokes, though.) He wishes you knew what you mean to him; how, in his eyes, you deserve the world, presented to you on a shining silver platter. Wishes you knew that he’d give it to you if thought he could carry it.

“Go wash up,” he says, ignoring the ache in his chest at the way your watery lashes flutter when you look up at him. “I’ll find you something to sleep in.”

He locates a spare toothbrush from a travelling kit he’s never used and sets a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants on the heated towel rail, leaving you alone in the bathroom to go about your business. You emerge some fifteen minutes later to find Vernon perched on the edge of his bed, scrolling through an app on his phone. He can’t help but swallow at the way his clothes fit you. How the steam from your shower clings to your skin, casts a heavenly haze around you. He hopes it isn’t obvious. This is about more than his dumb little crush.

“Were you asleep?” You ask him, nodding towards his comforter, still pushed back on one side. He turns to glance over his shoulder, following the line of your sight, before he looks back at you and shakes his head.

“Not even close,” he says. “I’d just got into bed when you got here.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. Vernon doesn't think you look totally convinced, but he can’t force you to believe him, even if it is the truth.

It’s unspoken but accepted that you'll sleep in the bed with him; he’s never let you stay on his couch when you spend the night, and you never agree to displacing him even though he always tries to insist he doesn’t mind. You’ve been friends for enough time now that it’ll never be weird to crawl beneath the sheets with him, anyway. At first, he didn’t really like sharing (he’s a bit… particular with how he sleeps, after all), but he got used to your weight on the mattress beside him quite quickly and makes a point to say he always sleeps better with you.

He hasn’t curled up next to you for the night in over two years. It’s awful, that that’s what he thinks about now as he turns off the lights and you settle down, shuffling under the comforter until he slides in next to you in the dark and you can lay your head on his chest. He knows it’s selfish. He thinks it probably makes him a bad person, too.

“Do you think—” you start to say, cut off by a long, vocal yawn. Your breath feels so warm through his t-shirt. “If you fall out of love with them… do the colours go away?”

With his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling he can’t even see, Vernon feels his heart shatter beneath the soft cushion of your cheek. He’s suddenly grateful he’s still fully clothed, as if the cotton barrier is the only thing stopping you from getting scratched by the splinters beneath his skin. He wonders if you hear it. It would be an easier explanation for why he doesn’t say anything than whatever his mouth could come up with, that’s for sure.

“I don’t know,” he says after a few seconds too long. The arm wrapped around your shoulders slips down to your waist and he squeezes you. Briefly, he wonders if it can force your broken pieces back together.

Vernon knows he would never do this to you. He’d never hurt you this way. Out of everyone he’s ever met, he thinks you’re the sweetest, the kindest, the most thoughtful of them all. The last person he’d ever wish a heartbreak upon. He even used to joke that he’d go to war with anyone who dared to try.

But now he’s seeing it happen? He feels as if he really could.

“I just hope you never have to find out,” he follows up, blinking back the thoughts that start to bubble away as your breaths slow down.

He wrapped a band-aid around your finger when you got a papercut once and you asked him, then, if he would kiss it better.

When you bumped your head in the playground, the same.

He’d kiss it all better now too, if he could. He’d show you how you deserve to be loved.

And he doesn’t just think it, anymore; Vernon knows that this makes him a terrible person.

“I hope you don’t, either,” you mumble back. “... and I hope we find them soon.”

He’s so proud of you.

Okay, it never took much. He’s been proud of you for every good grade you’ve ever achieved, every doctor's appointment you booked for yourself, every trip to the dentist you stressed over. He’s been proud of you for finishing projects you were struggling with. Proud of you for learning new recipes. For every milestone, personal or professional, it’s the first thing he makes sure to say.

[ hey, look at u go!!! proud of u :) ]

Now? He’s seen you crawl from rock bottom to the top of the world. It hasn’t been easy. There have been hurdles and barriers and sometimes, sixty foot high walls you’ve had to climb up and over, but you’ve done it. You’re thriving. Every time he looks at you, these days, if you’re not wearing a smile there are at least traces of one in your eyes, on your face, in your voice. Happiness suits you, and he’s so, so proud of you for getting here.

He knows you’re doing better, because between Christmas and New Year, you asked him if he wanted to come to a party with you. At first, he wasn’t sure; the holidays left his wallet feeling a little light and he’s been on a really good streak of not drinking anything lately, but when you promised that you’d stay sober too, he kind of couldn’t say no.

[ i just wanna see in the new year with my favourite person ever <3 ]

[ ha. flattery will get u everywhere ]

So here he finds himself, out in the backyard of somebody he’s never met, a can of Coke in one hand and your gloved fingers holding tightly onto the other. You dragged him outside at five minutes to midnight and — though he doesn’t know why — you decided you didn’t want to let go. Vernon certainly wasn’t going to be the one to make you. Your warmth down his left side is settling the slight unease he’s felt all evening while also making him feel tipsier than he’s ever been under the influence of any amount of soju; he thinks maybe this should scare him, but he’s just… so glad he came.

With sixty seconds until the clock strikes twelve, somebody stands up on top of the picnic table in the yard and starts to try and coordinate a countdown. With forty-five, Vernon squeezes your hand, butterflies where his stomach ought to be. With thirty, he takes a long drain of his drink, finishing it as if it’ll give him some courage, maybe, or… he doesn’t know. Zero sugar, zero caffeine — there’s no logic behind his process, just a lot of bubbles and artificially sweetened syrup. All the same, he crushes the can against his thigh and slips it into his pocket to throw away later. That alone relieves a bit of his adrenaline.

Not enough, but some.

With ten seconds remaining, the first shout drowns out the white noise in his ears, the chaos of his thoughts. 10. He joins them. So do you. 9. 8. Your voice is the loudest, the most excited sounding. You want this year to be over. You want the rest of your life to begin.

7. 6. 5.

The crackers are set. Flames dance at the end of the garden on fire lighters, ready to send rockets shooting into the sky.

Some people here are going to see them as they truly are. Brilliant and vibrant and colourful against the black canvas of the midnight sky. Vernon won’t. Neither will you. But what was it you said to him once?

4. 3.

Maybe I don’t need to see in colour.

For the first time, he thinks he agrees. The feeling of loving you, even if he never knows green from red, blue from orange? He doesn’t care. He has you. He loves you. That’s enough.

Happy New Year.

As if dawn has broken early, the world becomes impossibly bright, pyrotechnics bursting not only over your own heads but everywhere, as far as his eyes can see. After the first few, he permits himself a glance over at your face: there are tears running down it, and his heart stutters, but then he hears you laugh. Brightly, wetly, more resonant than any of the booms and crackles and cheers he can feel all the way down to his toes.

For whatever reason, Vernon starts laughing with you.

You pull him closer into a bone-crushing hug and blink your damp lashes against the side of his neck. “Thank you for being here with me,” you say to him, practically shouting to be heard. “I love you so much.”

“I’m always gonna be with you,” he says as you pull back a little. Your arms are still around him. The chain of the bracelet he bought you all those years ago is bitterly cold against the back of his neck. He can’t feel his fingers anymore, all he knows is that they’re resting on the curve of your spine. He thinks he can see something in the way you look at him, so softly and tenderly and yet, in the twitch of your brow…

Like you’re searching for something that might not be there.

He knows his gaze moves in a perfect triangle — from your left eye, to your slightly parted, wind-chapped lips, to your right. He knows he stops breathing. He swears you do, too. Something builds — a spark catches, an energy festers, egged on by the curious murmurs of the people around you.

You could do it, his brain tells him.

So what if he’s a few minutes late for it to be traditional? Does it really matter?

But he’s reminded, again, this time with a whizz and a boom and a crackle, that you aren’t his to have this way. His storybook moment fizzles out, the final firework bursting into sparkles overhead. He sees every one of your perfect features brighten in wonder as you tilt your head back to look up at it. Sees it beautifully reflected in your glassy eyes. He has about enough time to commit the image to memory before you clear your throat and finally step away from him, losing all touch for the first time since you came outside.

One of your friends comes and pulls you into an embrace, before passing you along to someone else, and then someone else again. He loses you in the crowd that rushes to get back in the warm, but he makes no effort to move with them. He just stays out in the dark for a while with his own thoughts for company, shoving his frigid hands into the pockets of his jeans.

He’s happy, though. It’s like you said.

Being in love is enough.

“There’s just one more thing,” you say as the waitress returns with your bank card and a receipt. Vernon slides you a look as he stands, picking up his jacket from the back of the chair he’s been sitting in.

He shakes his head at you. “Whatever it is, it better not be edible,” he laughs. “I think this is the most full I’ve ever been.”

In other words, you’ve done enough already. Stop spending money on me. Please. Thankfully, your final surprise is in-keeping with his unspoken rule.

His birthday rolled around way too quickly. The start of the year has been so chaotically busy; you swear, you’ve hardly seen him since he dropped you off home after the party. You moved out of your parents’ house for the second time a few weeks ago and settling in, unpacking boxes, sorting through clothes and belongings and trinkets has taken you much longer than you care to admit. You’ve been busy at work, too. So has he. Your social calendars have barely lined up at all.

But you were determined to make plenty of time for him on his birthday.

To Vernon, this has always just been another day. He’s never cared too much about big celebrations: as long as he can spend some time with people he cares about, he’s happy, and this year he’s managed exactly that. He saw his family this morning, had some friends drop by his apartment later in the day, and now, he’s with you.

You’ve never been great at the laid-back approach, though. Not with him. How could you be, when he does so much for you, always without even batting an eye? When he deserves to be doted on, and adored, and thoroughly spoiled? It’s the same every year. You make a fuss, he playfully scolds you for it; you and he are creatures of habit. It’ll probably never change.

This year, you invited him to your new place to open the gifts you’d bought him: the new speaker he kept saying he couldn’t justify buying, a record he looked at in the store a few months ago but never bought, a sweatshirt to replace the one you stole off him on New Years Eve. Some candies he likes. Then, after he finally stopped pouting and sighing that you really didn’t need to go to all this effort, you took him out for dinner, making a reservation for two at his favourite restaurant.

The pouting continued.

Only up until your appetisers came out, though. The moment your food was placed down in front of you, his eyes doubled in size and his lips became a little too busy to stay pursed. Your own dinner almost went cold with how fondly you sat and watched him. This year, you even spared Vernon the embarrassment of having the restaurant staff sing at the side of your table.

All right, you have an ulterior motive, but… it’s the thought that counts, right?

He holds the door open for you now as you thank the waitress who served you one last time and without him lowering his arm, you step into place beneath it. Tucked up into Vernon’s side, you’re as happy as you’ve ever been. Nervous, too, but… you have a good feeling.

“Where to?” He asks as you fall into step together.

“This way.”

You emerge from the shelter of the canopy outside the restaurant’s front door and immediately feel the cool tickle of a snowflake landing on your cheek. They started to fall while you were eating and Vernon couldn’t stop watching through the window, small specks that grew over the hour into big clumps that tumbled towards the ground. He’s always loved the snow, and there’s no real destination for this gift, anyway. You guide him to the left and watch as peace takes its rightful home on his beautiful features.

“We’ve walked in a perfect square three times now,” Vernon says after a little while of meandering about in the dark, making comfortable small talk and laughing as the champagne bubbles in your stomachs continue to fizz away. “Where are we supposed to be going?”

You wondered how long it was going to take him to notice, or even if he was going to realise at all. Looking up and down the street you’re on, you stop in your tracks, standing beneath the same flickering street lamp that you’ve passed twice already. Your footprints trail both behind and in front of you, neither quite covered yet by the snowfall. You break into a laugh when you notice that the convenience store on your left has closed since the last time you came down this road.

“I can get a map open, if…” Vernon starts, reaching into his pocket. You stop him, stepping out from under his arm and wrapping your hand around his wrist instead.

“I might’ve told a little white lie,” you confess,

He halts with his phone only half pulled out, pushing it into his hip for fear of it falling if either of you let go. “What do you mean?” He asks.

You know he’s probably thinking back to your earlier conversations, trying to figure out which part exactly is the mistruth you’re now admitting to. But whether he gets there on his own or not, he waits for you to answer.

“I had it with me this whole time,” you explain, readjusting your hold on his covered forearm. His eyes dart downwards, looking at the site of contact, but he quickly lifts them back up to your face. “I was just… waiting for… ”

“What are you talking about?” Vernon asks.

“Close your eyes.”

You know.

Unfortunately for your best friend, as hush-hush as he’s managed to be all this time, the same can’t be said for the other person he entrusts all his secrets to. A few weeks ago, when you’d called Seungkwan to coordinate timings for Vernon’s birthday plans, he’d accidentally let something slip. It was your suggestion of taking Vernon to dinner that did the trick.

“Oh, he’s going to love that,” Seungkwan had gushed. You could hear the breadth of his smile down the phone and felt yourself growing hot at the compliment.

“You really think so?”

“Pfft. You could take him to the Eiffel Tower or to a drive-through KFC, and he’d still have hearts in his eyes – because it’s you.”

Of course, he attempted to do some damage control immediately after. Make out that he meant it in strictly platonic terms. But once the idea planted itself in your head, it sort of… made sense. You mulled it over for a couple of days but when you finally asked Seungkwan, deathly serious, if he really thought you stood a chance with Vernon?

He practically screamed ‘yes’ down the phone.

“The last time you asked me to do this, you killed me at laser-tag,” Vernon says, narrowing his eyes. He surely doesn’t think you’re hiding a plastic gun underneath the coat he literally just watched you don, but he doesn’t do as you ask and you suck your front teeth at him.

“Luckily for you, I left all my weapons at home,” you counter. “Come on, please. Just… trust me.”

“Said that last time, too,” he snickers. But, to his merit, he finally does it. He takes in a breath and follows your instruction. “I swear to God…”

Selfishly, you take a moment to bask in how handsome he really is. His eyes twitch underneath his lids and snowflakes cling to his lashes, moving with them. It’s in his hair, too. On his shoulders. Melting on his cheeks, leaving small wet spots on his face. One lands perfectly on the tip of his nose. You would immortalise this moment, if you could.

It made sense, when you found out, because thinking back? Nobody has ever loved you how Vernon does. He shows it in so many ways – he sends you the songs that he hears and thinks you’ll like, the pretty photographs that he takes when he’s away for work, some variant of a ‘good morning’ text, almost every day. He massages your shoulders, lets you fall asleep on his lap, follows you around like an obedient puppy when you have errands to run just so you don’t have to do them on your own.

He tries, and often fails, to cook you breakfast when you stay over. He brings you coffees, or lunch. He looks at you like you’re the moon and the stars. People have teased for years that you could be psychically connected. That you were cosmically united. That it was fate for Vernon to move into the house down the street from you when you were nine. To be the only other child your age on the block.

Two people, perfect for one another, lives intertwined eternally by fate. Or, in other words…

“Are you…?” He asks, breaking the quiet that has only been filled with your cloud-forming breaths.

“Give me a second,” you breathe. There’s no doubt in your mind.

One.

You lean forward to kiss him softly, free hand settling against the side of his neck. In the February chill, Vernon freezes, no part of his body reacting to you except for his lips. Though they twitch in a gasp, they press back against yours as if he isn’t even thinking about doing it. As if it’s instinctual. As if he was always supposed to kiss you – as if he’s your…

There it all is, when you finally pull away.

Brown eyes, framed by fluttering lashes that untangle from one another to finally see you, too. Brown, you know, because when you asked your mother to tell you about Vernon’s colours when you were younger, that was the only one she told you, saying everything else might change when he got older. Warm, brown eyes. Glistening with every blink, blink, blink of the bulb above you. Pupils slowly dilating, drowning the colours out of view. You see his lids shoot wide as he realises, as he glances left and right, as he takes this new world in for the first time, too.

“I knew it,” you say on a stuttered breath, so overwhelmed you could cry. “My soulmate.”

A brilliant smile threatens to split Vernon’s features in two as he cups your cheeks and pulls you back to him, kissing you again, and again, and again.

“I know you are,” he says against your lips, his bare thumbs pink and cold as they press into your skin. And, before you can kiss him quiet – “but what ‘m I?”

thank u so much for reading, i really hope you enjoyed this. as always, your likes/reblogs/comments and feedback are always deeply appreciated.<3

#vernon fluff #vernon x reader #vernon chwe fluff #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #hansol x reader #hansol fluff #kpop fluff #j writes.#*#so nervous ab posting this. anyway. i wrote this for meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee and my deluded ass is gonna go jump in a hole now GOODBYE <3 #vernon fanfic

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xspeter · 22 days

Text

LOML

luke castellan x fem!reader

angst, angst, angst. mini blurb to help me get my flow back :) based off of LOML by Taylor Swift.

Percy Jackson isn’t sure what’s worse. Luke’s betrayal, or the look on your face when you find out. He’s sure he’ll get nightmares about it.

You’d had a wide smile on your face, the woven flower crown in your hair hinting that you’d just been out at the flower fields with your siblings.

You’d been called to help patch up Percy after what you had been told was a fight, but the somber energy in the room immediately told you something was off. It was too suspicious to have Chiron, Mr. D, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover all in the room for what was supposed to simply be slapping on a band-aid.

The smile on your face fell, and was instead replaced with a subtle frown. Your eyebrows furrowed, and you crossed your arms over your chest uncomfortably. “Is something wrong?” You asked, eyeing everyone in the room.

Percy swallowed and hesitantly glanced to Annabeth, who already had the remnants of tears in her eyes. And if the glossiness told him anything, it was that she was about to burst out crying again. Not that he could blame her.

He watched your frown grow as recognition flashed across your face. You and Luke always had been so in tune to each others emotions, he’s honestly surprised you didn’t notice the lack of his presence earlier.

“Y/N-” Chiron started, but you interrupted him. “Where’s Luke?”

Silence.

Percy didn’t believe in soulmates. It’s weird, because after finding out about greek gods and mythological beings being real, you’d think soulmates wouldn’t be that far off the table. But, they were.

But you and Luke had something Percy could tell was special. It wasn’t just a relationship - it was like a sacred bond bestowed upon the two of you by the gods themselves. Wherever Luke was, you’d be sure to follow, and vice versa. Fuck, you’d practically finish each other’s sentences as corny as that sounded.

That’s why he was so confused Luke would throw it all away so easily.

“Y/N…” Mr. D started, and Percy was sure it was the most emotion he’d ever even seen from him. You immediately began shaking your head, hands trembling as you stared at the ground. “Where is he?” You questioned again.

More silence followed, and Percy knew no one wanted to answer you, and he could understand why. Still, he took a breath and forced himself to look up at you. “He’s gone.”

It was like the five stages of grief flashed in your eyes simultaneously - merging together but still so distinguishable.

“No, he’s not.” You whimpered, “He’s in his cabin. I just saw him barely an hour ago-”

“He tried to kill Percy,” Annabeth finally breathed out. “He wants to overthrow the gods.”

You shook your head, a disbelieving laugh leaving your lips as you ran a trembling hand through your hair, moving up the white flower crown until it was lopsided on your head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said through gritted teeth, “Luke wouldn’t do that. I know him. I know him. He wouldn’t. It must’ve been- been a shapeshifter or something. I mean, with all the other monsters out there there has to be a shapeshifter right? Yeah. That’s all it was. It wasn’t Luke.”

Percy squeezed the table in front of him until his knuckles were white, doing his best to choke down his tears. It was a tempting idea, one that he’d have no problem believing if it hadn’t been for the look in Luke’s eyes. No monster could recreate that kind of rage.

“It was him,” Percy spoke up, “I know it was.”

“You don’t know anything!” You yelled, eyes wild and skin paling, “You don’t know Luke like I do! He wouldn’t do this! Sure, he gets mad at the gods sometimes, but don’t we all? It doesn’t mean we’re gonna up and start a whole rebellion!”

Grover attempted to reach out to you, tears forming in his dark eyes, “I know it’s hard-” He attempted, but you practically jumped away from him. “Don’t touch me.” You growled lowly, pointing an accusing finger in his face. Grover didn’t argue.

Everyone in the room stared at you in pity, and it made you sick. You’d show them. Luke was in his cabin right now, probably trying to sleep or playing with one of the younger campers. Because that’s what Luke does - that’s the Luke you know.

You were the love of his life. He’d told you just two days ago during a secret picnic on the beach way past your curfew. You’d choked up, but told him the same through your tears. Luke had kissed you so hard you swore you were seeing stars, and you remember thinking this kiss had felt different than all the others. Almost desperate, like he was trying to grasp onto something he knew he was losing.

No.

Luke was in his cabin.

You’d left the Big House without even a grunt, practically sprinting across camp to the Hermes cabin. You didn’t care about the weird looks the stragglers were giving you, didn’t care about the soft ache in your legs. You needed to see Luke. Needed to feel him. Needed to intertwine your souls again.

You were panting by the time you reached it, throwing the doors open and looking around wildly. “Luke?” You called, voice breaking a bit as you did.

“Y/N?” someone said, you didn’t know their name. Or maybe you did. You honestly couldn’t remember right now, the only thing running through your mind was Luke.

“Have you seen Luke?” You asked.

The camper shook her head, blonder hair falling in front of her face as she did. “Hey, are you okay-”

You were gone before she could even finish her sentence. You spent hours searching for him, like he was a pair of house keys you’d lost and desperately needed in order to go home.

The moon was high into the sky by the time you stop, your vision blurry with tears and muscles burning. You’d even prayed to your father at some point - which was something you rarely ever did.

You fall to your knees in the grass, hand clutching at the golden bracelet on your wrist. Like had given it to you two nights ago on the beach, embroided in it were the letters “LOML.”

He’dtold you it was because you were the love of his life, but right now in this moment, with your chest puffing and knees weak, you think it may stand for something else.

Because while you may be the love of Luke Castellan’s life, he was the loss of yours.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fanfic #fanfic #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #annabeth chase #grover underwood #chiron #mr. d #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #angst #percy jackson fanfic #x reader #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x reader #loml #loml taylor swift

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marvelobsessed134 · 7 months

Text

Watching you

A/n: kinda wanna make a part two of this let me know if you want one.

Pairings: Stalker Fan!Natasha x Popstar!reader

Warnings: dub con, Nat has a dick, dark!nat, obsessive!nat, stalking, rough smut, some degradation (mainly the use of the term slut), mentions of violence, mentions of pregnancy, breeding kink, Nat is literally a mastermind in this lol.

Summary: Natasha is your biggest fan. Your only number one fan. Or so she thinks. What happens when she finally makes her way backstage?

You belong with Natasha.

How could you not see it? How could you ignore all the love letters she’s sent you. The flowers?

The redhead went to another one of your concerts, this time in Miami.

You’ve ignored her letters and gifts. So now she has to get to you personally. Luckily, she is a trained assassin. So she has the needed skills to get backstage.

After she enjoyed the way you sung and danced to your songs and thanked everyone for coming and wished them Goodnight and a safe drive home, her plan got put into action.

She was able to steal a map of the place, which included where your dressing room was located. Bingo.

Natasha walked up to a lone security guard that was standing in the darkness. She snuck up behind him and knocked him unconscious before taking his clothes.

She went behind a curtain and quickly changed into the security uniform. Throwing on the baseball cap, she was able to get backstage.

Roadies, other guards, assistants, venue staff all paid her no mind as she made her way to your dressing room. She smirked, it was all so easy. If she had done this already, she would’ve been living in your Malibu beach mansion with you knocked up with her children. Oh how she wanted to get you pregnant so bad. To see your body swelled up.

The assassin felt herself get hard under her cargo pants, and she bit her lip. Finally, she made it to your dressing room. Knocking on the door she heard your soft voice call “come in”

Natasha walked in and quickly locked the door. You looked to her in confusion. “What’s going on?” You asked.

She took her cap off to reveal her beautiful red bob.

Your eyes widened. Natasha Romanoff was in your dressing room? Why? Doesn’t she have a world to save.

“N-Natasha Romanoff? What are you doing here? You’re an avenger!” You couldn’t help but fangirl a little bit since hello, an avenger is in your presence!

The redhead slowly walked towards you till you were backed against the wall. You gulped nervously. “I wanted- no. Needed to see you.”

“Why?”

“Because, I’ve fallen for you Y/n L/n.”

“F-fallen for me? But we’ve never even met before?”

“That is true but I believe that you are my soulmate. And I want to get your pregnant with my children.” Her words alarmed you and before you knew it her lips were on yours. You tried to push her back but she was way stronger than you. And, the kiss felt good. You’ve haven’t been kissed in awhile ever since your boyfriend broke up with you.

You felt her grinding her bulge against your front. You gasped softly, feeling it through the thin material of your blue sequin dress.

Natasha began to kiss your neck and you moaned softly, letting her do whatever she wanted to you.

She pulled at your dress and slid down. Revealing you wore no bra.

“Dirty girl. No bra on stage? So these titties can just pop right out.” The assassin kissed down your neck and collar bone, before taking a nipple into her mouth.

You arched towards her, closing your eyes as you felt her suck and bite on the sensitive flesh. She switched the other one and gave it the same treatment as her hand creeped down inside your wet panties.

“Mmm, so wet for me.” She groaned, pulling them down swiftly with one hand before entering two fingers inside you.

“Oh!” You moaned as she entered them and started pumping in and out, going faster by the second. Her thumb rubbed your clit in circles and you kept moaning and crying out. “Shh, don’t want anyone to come looking for you and see you being fucked like a slut now do you?”

You shook your head with wide, teary eyes and she placed another passionate kiss on your lips as she fingered you.

You felt yourself getting closer to the edge before you clenched around her and let go, your orgasm washing over you.

“Fuck, that’s a good slut.” She pulled her fingers out and sucked them clean, moaning at the taste.

Before you knew it your chest was flat against the wall and you heard her roughly pull her pants and boxers off. It was a well known fact that Natasha Romanoff was packing. And well, you’re more than happy to experience it.

Her tip already leaking with precum, she teasingly slid it up and down your drenched folds.

“I can’t wait to get you pregnant, all filled up with my cum.” She moaned before slowly entering you.

“Fuck you’re tight. Oh my god baby.” Natasha started thrusting into you, and you tried your best to keep quiet. But it got harder and harder as she started thrusting faster and faster.

“Mmm…” your moans were muffled by her covering your mouth. She spoke dirty words in your ear.

“Look at you, taking my dick like a good slut. Bet you’re gonna be a good mommy too. Im gonna get you round and full of my baby. Then while you’re pregnant I’m gonna fuck you more and drink that sweet milk from your tits.” Your eyes widened, fuck, you’ve never wanted anything more in your life!

“Do you want that, babygirl?”

“Y-yes!” You moaned.

“How much do you want it?”

“M-more than a Grammy!” You couldn’t help yourself and she smirked at your answer. “That’s my girl.” The assassin started fucking into you harder and harder before spilling her hot, white load inside of your womb.

“Oh!” You sighed.

With her cock still in you, she turned your head and gave you a kiss on the cheek. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

And while you couldn’t really say the same thing back, you didn’t mind the circumstances.

#marvel #marvel smut #marvel x reader #top natasha #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #g!p natasha #dark!natasha #popstar!reader #stalker!natasha #dark fic #smut

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 9 months

Text

Honey Girl. Chapter Three.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky get closer. Your choice only gets harder.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au.

Word Count - 6.4k

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut. cursing. angst. alcohol consumption.

Author's Note - angels, i can only apologise for the wait!! i've had some stuff going on, and i was on vacation, so this has taken a while. thank you so much for your patience, kindness and support on Honey Girl - it means everything.

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3 please, send me your thoughts, predictions, desires!! i will get excited with you!!

Masterlist. Inbox.

The sunlight seeps through the stained glass windows, murmured chatter echoing off the stone walls around you.

You smooth down your dress and adjust your bracelet, smiling at the rare sight of your family and friends all gathered together in one place. Your parents are sat on either side of you, all of you eagerly awaiting the beginning of this exciting occasion.

Man, you love weddings. You always have. So much happiness and joy in one short day, everyone excited about the possibility of eternal love.

You're still sat waiting when you realise, with quiet uncertainty, that you're not sure whose wedding this is. All of your family is here, as well as many of your friends. So why do you feel so confused all of a sudden?

The Priest gestures for all of the guests to stand just as the first notes of the Wedding March begin to reverberate around the room. You turn around, craning your neck to try and get a glimpse of the bride.

You don't know her, but she's... beautiful. Long, dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders, white silk dress hugging her frame perfectly, accentuating every dip and curve. She has kind eyes, warm and brown, and a blinding smile that's infectious and dazzling. Her skin glows in the stained glass sunlight, illuminating her in an ethereal radiance. She has a beauty that belongs on the cover of a magazine, or on the ceilings of the Sistine Chapel.

You eagerly turn back towards the altar to find out who her lucky groom is. He has his back to you, dark suit stretched across his broad shoulders. He turns, and you can't help the gasp that escapes your lips.

It's Bucky.

You're panicking, suddenly. You want to scream, shout, run over to them and object in any way possible. Your Mom grabs your hand tightly from one side, as your Dad does the same on the other.

"Mama, I have to-"

"You can't, sweetheart. It's not fair."

"You made your choice," your Dad says kindly, not an ounce of malice in his voice. "Now you have to let him make his."

White hot tears drip down your cheeks as your chest rises and falls with frantic frustration. This isn't how you wanted things to go. This wasn't supposed to happen.

The lights in the church are suddenly too bright, the wooden pews too hard. There's an incessant knocking noise coming from somewhere in front of you, loud and overwhelming. You swear someone's shouting your name in the distance, among all of the chaos.

"Honey? It's Bucky. Are you okay?"

Why is he asking if you're okay? Of course you're not okay, you're in this living nightmare.

Nightmare.

You're having a nightmare.

You wake with a startled gasp, cheeks wet and warm, sweat dripping down your back. The knocking hasn't stopped, in fact, now it's even louder.

"Sugar? Are you in there? Can you let me in?"

It's Bucky. Bucky's here.

You throw yourself out of bed and race through your apartment, swinging open the door. Bucky is stood on the other side, still in his navy plaid pyjama pants, sweater thrown over himself haphazardly. You look down at yourself and see that you're only wearing an old t shirt, legs bare and feet cold on the wooden floor.

"Are you okay?" he asks gently, stepping forward into your space. "I had this horrible feeling. It was like... like I was panicking. I knew it wasn't me so I figured it must have been you. What's wrong, sweets?"

He snakes his fingers around your wrist and pulls you into him gently, wrapping his arms around you completely. You relax into his embrace, inhaling the warm, cosy scent of him. All the fear leaves your body, and you cling to him tighter, worried that he'll disappear any minute.

"I had a nightmare," you whisper into the soft cotton of his chest.

He pulls back to look at you, large, calloused hands cradling your tear stained cheeks.

"You wanna talk about it?"

You deliberate for a second before shaking your head softly.

"If you change your mind, you know I'll always listen to you. Any time. I mean it."

"I know," you say quietly. "Thank you."

You step away from him and towards the couch, where you curl up with your legs tucked underneath you. Bucky walks over to the kitchen, filling the kettle and placing it on the stove. He makes two mugs of tea, handing one into your outstretched hands carefully. He shuffles to sit next to you, pressed into your side, arm slung around your shoulders. You relax into the broadness of him, the comfort he brings, the safety. The two of you fall asleep intertwined, warm and content, wrapped completely in each other and the blanket of your love.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You're both startled awake by a phone ringing. The unwelcome melody is coming from somewhere between where you're nestled together, limbs intertwined and bodies connected.

"It's-fuck- is that mine or yours?" Bucky's mumbling as he scrambles amongst the couch cushions.

"Yours, I think," you reply, finding your phone on the floor where you've kicked it in your sleep.

Bucky finally finds the source of the noise, trapped in the arm of the couch. He presses the green button reluctantly, still disorientated from being woken so suddenly.

"Hello?"

That deep, raspy grumble of his morning voice is enough to make you melt back into your original position, the tone golden and honeyed. You slide back towards him and tuck yourself into his side, the two of you fitting together perfectly.

You can hear muffled talking on the other end, which takes Bucky a minute to comprehend. When he does, his eyes widen, and he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights.

It's your Dad, he mouths silently, muscles in his body going rigid.

Fuck, you mouth back, praying that he can't hear the two sets of heaving lungs on your side of the line.

"Yeah, of course. I'll be there. Sounds good, man. See you then."

Bucky's about to hang up the phone, when your Dad makes a noise of complaint. You can hear your Mom yelling something at him in the background.

"They're coming here," he whispers to you as quietly as possible, covering the phone speaker. "Fuck, what do we do?"

"Tell them you're already here... borrowing something. Or giving something back."

You shoot him a look that says trust me. Trust you, he does.

"I'm with her right now. I can ask, if you want? Yeah, just dropping off a couple of tools - last time I saw her, she mentioned a few loose screws in one of the kitchen cabinets. Easy fix."

You can hear your Dad singing his praises and expressing his gratitude, and your Mom asking Bucky to put you on the phone. He passes it to you carefully, as if it's a bomb, bound to explode at any given second.

"Hi, Mama."

"Hey, sweetheart. Bucky get everything sorted for you?"

"Oh, yeah. He's been great. Fixed it in two minutes flat. I just didn't have the right kind of screwdriver."

"He's one of the good ones, huh?" she chuckles. "We called to tell you that you have to come to our get together later. I know it's a little impromptu, but we have so much produce from the garden, too much for just us. We'll have dinner in the backyard, and drinks, and play some games. And we'll tell you all about the wedding!"

Your Mother has a gift for hosting. She's a people person through and through, warm hearted and kind spirited in nature. She loves having people over at the house, loves cooking for them, loves choosing wine pairings for her dishes and explaining each one carefully. It's a gift. She's a gift.

"I'd love to come, Mama. Do you want me to bring anything? I can make desserts?"

"Oh, darling, would you? I'm making a strawberry and cream tart, but you know it's nothing compared to your talent."

"Oh hush," you chide playfully. "I'll see what I can conjure up. Maybe I'll even rope Bucky in to help."

You wink at him cheekily and he laughs, the sound settling gently in your ribs like a caged bird singing it's morning song.

"Glad to be of service!" he yells into the phone, his right hand moving to rest at the nape of your neck. He massages the muscle there gently, and the tension leaves your body just as quick as it arrived.

"What time, Mama?"

"Everyone's arriving at seven o'clock, but you and Bucky feel free to come any time. Did you hear that, Bucky? Any time!"

"Loud and clear," he chuckles. "See you soon, Lori."

"Bye, you two. Call if you need anything. Love you, sweetheart."

"Love you too."

She hangs up the phone and you're plunged into silence, the two of you panting like you've just ran a marathon.

"Fuck," Bucky breathes.

"Yeah, fuck," you exhale. "Now my parents think I'm not capable of fixing a loose screw."

"It was the first thing I thought of! Sorry, honey. Didn't mean to undermine your DIY skills."

You fake angry, but you can't keep it up while he's looking at you like you hung the moon just for him. The corners of your lips twitch, and before you know it, you're grinning at each other like idiots.

"Now I have to make dessert," you laugh. "There go my plans for the day."

"You offered."

"I panicked!"

"I'll give you a hand, if you need it. I don't have to be at work for another hour and a half."

"It's okay," you reassure, reaching out to link your fingers with his. He's still absentmindedly tracing patterns across the back of your neck, the sensation almost soothing you back to sleep.

You relax into Bucky, and he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. He's so warm, and soft, and broad. You realise that there's been two occasions recently where you've slept like the dead. Both were in Bucky's arms.

"You wanna help me make breakfast?" you whisper, careful not to disrupt the golden glow of the morning sunlight. The orange hue of the room feels fragile, sacred even. You don't want to ruin it.

"Of course. I can't bake, but I can cook. I have my uses."

"That, you do," you tease, leaning back into him as he places a tender kiss on top of your head. If you could bottle up this feeling of complete tranquility, you would. For a moment, everything else disappears. It's just you and your soulmate. Nothing else matters.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Bucky, as it turns out, is a decent chef.

Sure, he's not Michelin star level, but neither are you.

You're sat on the counter, bare legs dangling over the side as you watch him move around your kitchen with ease, as if it's his own. You can't help but notice the way he belongs here. Like he's been here all along.

Bucky leaves everything cooking on the stove to come to stand in between your legs, warm hands splayed across your thighs. He rubs comforting circles into your skin while his steely blue eyes look at you intently.

"You okay?"

You smile at him softly, draping your arms around his neck to play with his hair.

"I'm fine."

You're not fine. The words California and Bakery and Dream Job and Bucky keep circling around your mind like horses on a fairground carousel. The more time you spend with Bucky, the more your Tethering makes sense. The two of you work. This connection you have is made of threads of gold, braided into both of your souls.

"You've been quiet all morning. And... I can feel it, you know. This anxious, sinking feeling, deep in my chest. There's something really bothering you, honey."

You take a deep breath and grasp onto his shoulders tightly, grounding yourself back down to Earth.

"I'm okay. There's just a couple of things I need to work out, and I think they're giving me some anxiety. I'm just stressed, I think."

"Are you trying to convince yourself, or me? Because you're not doing a very good job of either."

He's only teasing, but the way he's looking at you makes your breath hitch. It's as if everytime he looks into your eyes, he's also looking into your soul. It's like he can read your mind. Your heart is covered in braille and he's running his fingertips over it gently. You suddenly feel very exposed, shrinking down into yourself on the counter.

"Hey, pretty girl. Look at me. Please."

He uses his finger and thumb to tilt your face towards him, holding onto your chin gently.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to push you, or anything. I'm just worried. It's weird, being able to feel what you feel. I think I'm still getting used to it."

You smile at him carefully, running your fingers over the stubble on his cheeks.

"I appreciate you looking out for me, Buck. It's just... overwhelming, I guess. Nothing's a secret between me and you anymore."

You both know that's not true.

"You know, if there's anyone who understands how you feel... it's me."

"You're right," you laugh, "on account of the whole half-of-my-soul thing, I guess."

"Exactly. It's scary, but you're not alone in this. The two of us will figure it out. I know we will."

He has so much faith in you it makes you want to cry.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer to you. He leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, firm and reassuring. It's like he's reminding you that he's right here, in front of you. He's not going anywhere.

You might be, though.

"We've got all the time in the world, remember?" he murmurs against your mouth.

"All the time in the world," you echo, tucking your head into his chest.

He holds you close until your breakfast starts to burn. The impending fire on the stove is nothing compared to the impending fire that feels like your future.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The two of you eat on your balcony, tangled together on the love seat chair. The sun is beating down, beams of light illuminating Bucky, setting him aglow. He looks like an angel, the golden hue creating a halo around him. You wonder for a second if he is. An angel sent just for you.

"Oh hey, did I tell you?" he asks, turning as much as he can in his spot to face you.

"Tell me what?"

"Leonie and Eli are having a baby."

"No way!" you exclaim, grabbing a hold of his hands in excitement. "I'm so happy for them. Man, it feels like yesterday that they found each other."

"Right? Hell of a story, too."

"Rough one, though. I mean, imagine it. You introduce your brother to your new girlfriend, and turns out they're soulmates."

Bucky's laughing so hard that he's clutching at his stomach, shaking the chair and you along with it.

"That's fucked," he wheezes. "It's so fucked."

You can't contain your own laughter, not when his is so contagious.

"It's not funny," you breathe, but you're giggling so hard your sides hurt.

"Not funny at all," he chuckles, pinching your thigh.

"If you think about it, our Tethering is a little fucked up too. I mean, you're my Dad's best friend."

"Yeah... not ideal, huh?" he teases, still laughing.

"Not ideal at all, really," you agree playfully.

You sit in the quiet for a moment before you speak again.

"What do you think they'll say? When we tell them, eventually?"

Bucky thinks for a moment, cogs turning in his brain. He considers carefully before he answers you.

"...I think they'll be happy for us. Your Mom'll be excited. It might be a little harder for your Dad to navigate, I guess, but... he'll be okay."

"Yeah. You're probably right."

The rational part of your brain is telling you that he is. They'll be ecstatic that the two of you have found your person. The celebrations will be endless.

But there's a tiny, nagging piece of your mind that won't let you rest. It's taunting you, telling you that they're going to be confused, shocked, upset. That they won't accept the two of you. You can't lose them over a soulmate. You won't.

You clear your throat and stand from your spot, picking up your empty plates.

"Don't you have to be at work soon? I doubt you can show up in pajamas."

"I'm the boss, pretty girl. I can wear whatever the hell I want."

You raise an eyebrow at him, and he relents.

"Fine. I need to change. But I'll see you later? At your Mom's?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll see you there."

You walk Bucky to the door, opening it expectantly. He looks at you for a moment too long, still unconvinced by your reassurances from earlier.

"If you need anything, just call me. You know you can talk to me anytime, yeah?"

"Yeah," you confirm, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his t shirt. "I know, Buck. Thanks."

He leans in to kiss your forehead before leaving you in the doorway, more confused than ever.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You commit your day to baking your feelings away.

As soon as Bucky left your apartment, the space felt empty, incomplete. Much like you do. As much as you hate to admit it, you feel better when Bucky is around. You know it's the whole Tethering thing, but still. Your heart feels fuller, the world seems brighter, the sun on your skin is warmer. Everything's easier when your soulmate is next to you.

You click on the radio, a soft, jazzy melody filling your kitchen. You begin to measure your ingredients, picking up bowls, utensils and your piping bags as you go.

This is the only thing you've ever felt like you were made to do. Sure, you've had hobbies as you've grown up. You're a good swimmer, you enjoyed soccer, you weren't too bad at dance. But nothing compared to baking.

Which at first, sounded ridiculous. Grown ups would ask you what you wanted to be when you were older, and when you said Baker, they'd laugh in that patronising way that adults do. It didn't stop you, though.

Your Grandma bought you a half empty recipe book for your tenth birthday. You can create your own and add them, she'd said. You'll be publishing a book with your name on in no time.

Your parents took you on a European vacation when you were sixteen. In Amsterdam, you passed this tiny little bakery, tucked away down a back street. It was red brick with a big window in the front, showcasing the cakes and endless sweet treats they had to offer. When you peered through the glass, you watched as the woman who you assumed was the owner went about her day. She looked so happy to be serving her customers. You decided then and there that was going to be you one day. A Bakery of your own. A happy life.

Which is why you're having such a hard time. You haven't talked to Stella since she called you, and you're worried she's going to change her mind if she doesn't hear from you soon. You haven't talked to Bucky about it either, even though he presented you with opportunity after opportunity this morning. It's starting to feel like the walls are caving in.

So, you do what you do best. Bake.

The day passes by quicker than anticipated, lost in a cloud of cinnamon and powdered sugar. You're wiping down your counters when your phone rings, Bucky's name lighting up your screen.

"Hi, Buck."

"Hey, pretty baby. You want me to pick you up later? I'm passing your place anyway."

He's always thinking of you so selflessly. The thought makes your heart stutter for a moment.

"You sure you don't mind?"

"Course not. I can drop by at six? Gives us enough time to help your Mom set up."

"Sounds perfect. Thanks, Buck."

"See you then, honey."

You hang up the phone and realise the hours have completely escaped you. You jump in the shower and do your hair and makeup in record time, miraculously. You're stood in a towel in front of your closet when you feel Bucky pull up outside. The tension in your chest eases a little, and you take a deep, full breath. He knocks on the door, and you completely relax.

"Hey, you," he greets, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.

You take a step back to look at him, and almost lose your balance. He looks ridiculously handsome. He's wearing a dark short sleeve button up that hugs his biceps so tightly, you're worried it might burst open. His jeans cling to his thighs deliciously, and the leather jacket slung over his shoulder adds a ruggedness that most men couldn't pull off. Your eyes rake over him slowly, taking him in from top to bottom. He lets you devour him, smirk never leaving his lips. Eventually, you meet his gaze.

"You see something you like?"

"You clean up real nice, Barnes," you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

You untangle yourself from him before you jump his bones, and walk back to your closet. He follows you and sits on the edge of your bed, watching your every move like a hawk.

You pick out a sage green sundress that skims your thighs and hugs you in all the right places. It's a warm night, and your Mom loves to start a bonfire when it's cold.

"Close your eyes, playboy," you scold jokingly, laughing when he flops backwards to stare at your ceiling.

You slip the dress on, and realise it has a zipper at the back that you can't reach.

"Buck? Can you zip me up, please?"

He rises from his spot on the bed and strides over to you, standing a little closer than necessary. He pulls the zip upwards ever so slowly, fingertips brushing your spine as he goes. He's so warm and so broad behind you that it sends a shiver through your body.

Bucky brushes your hair to one side and leans down to press a featherlight kiss the place where your neck meets your shoulder. You hum in contentment, which only spurs him on. He begins to leave kisses wherever he pleases - your shoulder, your neck, behind your ear. You practically melt into him, and he wraps his arms around you to keep you steady.

"You look so beautiful," he murmurs against your skin. "Prettiest girl I've ever seen."

You smile at his words, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder.

"Says the man that looks like a goddamn supermodel."

"Oh, angel. Now you're just lying to me."

His chuckle rumbles through the both of you, the sound lighting up your nerve endings.

Your eyes flick across the room, where you notice the clock on the wall.

"Baby," you whisper. "You gotta stop. We're gonna be late."

He groans lowly and lets his head loll into the crease of your shoulder.

"I was fine until you called me baby," he murmurs. "Now that's all I'm gonna be thinking about for the rest of the night."

"Sorry."

"You're not."

"I'm not."

You both laugh and untangle yourselves, you moving to put on your shoes while Bucky straightens himself out.

"You gonna be able to keep your hands to yourself, lover boy?"

"I'm gonna have to," he grumbles, trying to hide the smile that's fighting to take over his face.

You lean against him as you do up the straps of your shoes, dancing your fingers down his arm to interlink your hands.

"Ready?" you ask, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

"Ready," he confirms, leaning down to kiss you chastely.

"A night of pretending that we're not soulmates. How hard can that be?"

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Pretending that Bucky isn't your soulmate is one of the hardest things you've ever done.

You haven't even made it inside yet.

Buck parks his truck in your parents driveway and turns to look at you. You've been silent the entire ride over, and it's making him anxious. He reaches over and places a warm palm on your bare thigh, thumb rubbing patterns back and forth.

"You okay?"

You take a deep breath, which is all the answer he needs.

"It's alright, baby. I'm nervous too. We've got this. We're alright."

You look into his eyes for the first time since you were in your apartment, and have to fight to stop yourself from crying. You nod and bite your lip, inhaling and exhaling carefully.

"You're okay. I promise. It's me and you, honey girl. It's me and you."

You want to crawl over into Bucky's lap and bury your face in his chest. You want to curl up in his strong arms and let his scent envelope you. You want to tangle your fingers into his hair and smash his lips to yours, until you don't know where you end and Bucky begins.

Instead, you bring his hand from your thigh to your lips, and kiss each of his knuckles tenderly. The gesture makes his heart beat so fast, he's a little worried he's about to pass out.

"Come and talk to me anytime tonight, okay? I've got you. I've always got you."

You nod again, and take another deep breath.

"I know, Buck. It's the only thing I'm sure of."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"My baby!"

Your Mom smothers you in a hug the minute you knock on the door, almost tipping you over in the process.

"Oh, you look so beautiful. This colour is gorgeous on you, sweetheart."

The heaviness of your heart gets a little lighter at the sight of your Mother. She's magic like that.

"Thanks Mama. Is your skirt new? It's pretty."

She gives you a twirl, the skirt billowing around her like a princess. Both you and Bucky smile when you catch each others eyes briefly.

"I got it on our trip! Your Dad got a new shirt too - he looks so handsome."

She's grinning from ear to ear talking about him. Your smile only gets wider.

Bucky gives your Mom a one armed hug, and hands her a white box with a bow on.

"I wish I could say this is from me, but I don't have nearly enough talent for that."

"You're plenty good at other things, Buck," she laughs. "What's in here, sweetheart?"

"Apple, carrot and cinnamon cake with cream cheese frosting. I piped little bunny rabbits on top, too."

Before she can say anything else, you take the box from her hands and walk into the house.

"We better put this in the refrigerator before the frosting melts!" you call as you leave.

"Come on Buck, let's get you a drink. Jack bought your favourite."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Your parents backyard looks incredible.

Golden fairylights adorn the deck, illuminating the dining area that your Mom has set up. The table is covered with a white lace tablecloth, and littered with tea lights and candlesticks. Each place setting has a wine and a water glass ready, fringed cushions perched on each wooden chair. There's a beautiful bouquet of flowers in a stained glass vase as the centerpiece, more flowers scattered across the entirety of the table.

The sun hasn't set yet, and the entire garden is dripping with the glowing orange hue of the evening. The air is warm and calm, salty ocean breeze only disrupting the peace occasionally. If summer were to be summed up in a night, it'd be this one.

Your Dad is pouring water into all of the glasses from an ornate painted jug when you walk into the yard.

"Hi, Papa."

"Oh, sweetheart!" he smiles in surprise, abandoning his task to come and give you a hug. "You look amazing. I like your dress."

"Thank you - hey, is this your new shirt? It suits you!"

"It's nice, right? Your Mom picked it out. She said the colour brings out my eyes."

You look him up and down comically, crossing your arms over your chest like a cartoon detective.

"Hmm... she's right. It definitely does."

You're both laughing when your Mom and Bucky join you, the two men immediately smacking each other on the back affectionately.

"Where you been, Buck? Work keeping you busy?"

"Stupidly busy - you wouldn't even believe."

"Well, it's your night off, so no shop talk!" your Mom encourages, handing Bucky a beer.

"Easier said than done," he winks, and your breathing picks up just a little.

"Mama, do you need help with anything in the kitchen?"

"Oh, yes please, sweetheart. Come, let me show you what needs doing."

The two of you leave the men to catch up, walking inside to prep the appetisers.

You're slicing tomatoes carefully when you turn to watch your Mom for a minute. She's chopping up basil, completely engrossed. The evening sun beams in, illuminating her as she stands by the window. You love her so much it makes you unsteady on your feet.

"Hey, Mama? Can I talk to you about something?"

She turns and immediately stops what she's doing, giving her full attention to you.

"Of course you can, baby. Anything at all."

You take a deep breath, and carry on slicing while you talk.

"So, you remember Stella, right?

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The night goes off without a hitch.

There's good food, gorgeous wine and even better company. Your parents invited many of their friends, meaning twelve of you are sat around the meticulously prepared table. In between courses, there's conversation, laughter and games, everyone letting go of the stress of the week.

You're doing everything you can to avoid looking at Bucky. You're worried that if someone catches the two of you, they'll know everything. You're surprised you haven't confessed already, the weight of the secret too heavy to bear.

Your Mom is cutting your cake on the table when there's a sudden commotion.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Shit! Shit, I'm sorry. Shit."

"Is everyone okay?" your Mom asks, flitting to the other end of the table.

"I'm so fucking clumsy, my God. Dropped my wine straight onto Bucky," Jesse, one of your Dad's oldest friends, explains.

"As long as it doesn't stain my white tablecloth, we're fine," your Mom laughs. "What do you need, Buck?"

"It's only white wine, luckily, so no stain. I'm just wet. I'm gonna go dry off."

"I have a hairdryer?" you offer without thinking.

"Good idea, honey. Go help Bucky upstairs while I get some paper towels."

You rise from your chair and make your way inside, heart racing as Bucky follows you. You rummage around the drawers of your childhood bedroom, certain you used to keep all of your hair tools here somewhere.

"You got it?" a warm, whiskey smooth voice asks from behind you.

"Got it," you reply, standing up with the hairdryer in your hand.

Bucky kicks the door closed behind him, and takes a step into you.

"I can't focus on anything when you're sat there in that dress," he murmurs. "Look like a fuckin' angel, all pretty under the lights."

Heat blooms over your chest, and you pray he doesn't notice. Your breathing quickens, and you step forward too, now chest to chest with him.

"I'm so worried that I'm going to accidentally blurt it out," you confess. "You're the only thing that's on my mind."

Bucky leans down to press his lips to yours, smiling into the kiss. You fist your hands into his shirt and pull him closer, snaking your tongue into his mouth. He tastes like mint and sugar and every kiss for the rest of your life.

He groans when you bite his lip, nipping yours back in retaliation.

"Easy, baby," he warns teasingly. "I can't go back down there black and blue."

You roll your eyes and kiss him harder, practically melting when he grabs at your ass roughly.

"What do you need, pretty girl?" he questions against your mouth. "I'll give you anything."

You're panting against him, vibrating with need.

"Need you to take the edge off," you whisper, hands shaking as you unbutton his wet shirt. "Can't carry on like this. Please, baby. Please."

"We've gotta be quick," he reminds, sneaking his hand under your dress to tease you over your underwear.

You grab at his shoulders for leverage, almost certain your knees aren't going to hold out long enough. Bucky doesn't even take your panties off, just slips his hand down the front. It feels filthier this way.

"Fuck," he groans. "This all for me, honey? You been thinking about this?"

"Yes," you whine. "All I've thought about."

Bucky wastes no time, slipping a finger into you easily. After a minute, he adds another, setting a steady rhythm immediately.

"Shit," you breathe, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his chest. "We're supposed to be taking it slow."

"You want me to go slow?"

"No, fuck," you say immediately. "Don't stop. Please."

He chuckles lowly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

"I won't, baby. Almost there."

It should be embarrassing, how quickly he can take you to the edge, but you don't care. This is what having a soulmate is. They know you better than anyone - inside and out.

"So close," you whisper.

"I know, pretty baby. I can feel it. Stay quiet and come for me. That's it."

You can't hold out when he uses that tone with you. You're thrown over the edge, your climax running through you like molten honey, hot and delicious. Your knees buckle, and Bucky uses a strong arm around your middle to hold you up.

"There we go," he's murmuring. "Atta girl. That's my girl."

You wrap your arms around his waist and breathe him in, finally coming back to your senses.

"My parents are gonna wonder where we are," you realise. "Grab your shirt and the hairdryer. You're gonna have to do it while I recover."

Bucky smiles at you with so much affection, the world stops spinning for a second. This is a moment of bliss. The two of you revel in it.

Bucky dries his shirt while you go back outside, trying to keep suspicion to a minimum.

"Fixed, sweetheart?" your Mom asks, holding out a piece of cake to you. You take it gratefully and sit back down, relaxing into your chair.

"Yeah, it's basically dry. That hairdryer is old, so it's taking a while."

"Well you didn't miss much, other than Jesse telling the Joshua Tree story for the fortieth time this month," your Dad laughs.

"You love that story, asshole!" Jesse yells, just as Bucky re-enters the garden. He throws you a mischievous smile, which you reciprocate with ease.

Everyone is a little more careful with their wine as the night goes on, keeping all the glasses planted firmly on the table.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"So then I said, well, if you don't like it, leave!"

You're pretty sure you've heard your Mom's friend Cora tell this story before, but you're all laughing like it's the first time. She has such an animated voice, you're convinced you could listen to her read the phone book.

"Which, I mean, I didn't think he would. Imagine breaking up over a chinchilla! A fucking chinchilla!"

You're laughing so hard your sides hurt. You look over to Bucky, and see that he's grinning like a Cheshire cat. You could get used to this.

"So I watched him pack his shit, box by box. Which took fucking ages, by the way. He was using those big plastic boxes, you know the black ones? And he was filling them so carefully and so slowly, that I started helping him!"

You wipe a tear from your face, still doubled over in amusement. You're gonna be sore tomorrow, the way your abs hurt now.

"But I didn't want him taking those boxes, because they're nice, right? They're expensive, and they're mine! So I helped him move out, and then unpacked all of his shit so I could have my boxes back."

Your Mom, despite hearing this story before, hasn't taken her eyes off Cora the entire time. She's such a careful listener. It's one of the things you love most about her.

"Oh, I'll drop them off for you, if you like!" Cora yells, staring directly at you. Everyone turns to look at you in confusion.

"Why would she need all your boxes?" Jesse laughs.

"For the big move!"

Time stands still. The world goes silent. Your heart stops beating.

"...What move?" Bucky asks, never taking his eyes off you.

"To California! Her dream job, falling in her lap. We're so proud of you, babygirl. You've worked so hard for this."

Cora's tearing up now, the alcohol catching up to her. She raises her glass high in the air.

"To our little superstar. The best baker the world has ever seen! Cheers!"

Everyone clinks their glasses together in the middle of the table, except for you and Bucky. You haven't taken your eyes off each other. The world carries on, but you stay still.

You suddenly feel a cacophony of emotions - sadness, anger, betrayal, hurt and confusion settling like ten tonne weights onto your chest. Then it hits you - you're feeling what Bucky feels.

You feel a heart break.

You're not sure if it's yours or his.

tag list part one -

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

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reallyromealone · 2 months

Text

Title: oh look a mate (s)

Pairing: demon brother's x reader

Chapter 2

Fandom: obey me

Warnings: male reader, omegaverse, nsfw content, angst, fluff, self hatred, reader has a lot of trauma, shitty family, toxic family, mentions of murder, attempted assassination mentioned

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

He remembered his first nest.

And how quickly his sister destroyed it.

His parents mocking him, his sister making him feel awful for having something like that.

This was what he thought of when he thought of inviting his family, that was the first memory he had.

He was eight at that time.

Staring at the paper, did he want to invite them?

"No, I don't think we're going to do that" he whispered to himself as he looked at the barely started letter, everytime he tried writing it another memory came back.

For once, he wanted something happy that they wouldn't intrude on.

This was for him.

Lucifer noticed something, something deeply concerning that he hadn't thought about till looking at (name) getting fitted for his wedding attire, he had no collar. His neck and scent glands exposed and no one caught this, how did they not notice this?! Lucifer looked at the ornate and beautiful collar he had commissioned, an expensive leather with their soulmate mark on a silver charm.

Simple but beautiful.

(Name) Was in his greenhouse again as Belphegor slept in the corner, (name) liked to think this was their hang out time because he would always appear when he was in here, it was nice.

(Name) Spoke about the things he was doing to the sleeping demon, a one sided conversation but (name) still enjoyed it as his happy pharamones filled the room "I'm growing tulips here, I think they would be lovely... I always loved them, they were my grandmothers favorites before she passed" he explained happily as he stretched "I think im done for the day" walking towards the demon he smiled "sorry but I'm going to need this, it's quite chilly today" he said as he went to take his cape but Belphegor had other ideas, pulling (name) in his embrace "this is very sweet but I think sleeping on a greenhouse ledge would hurt our backs"(name) said softly to the other who cracked an eye open and grunted "would you be willing to stay away a bit to go somewhere more comfortable?" He asked the Alpha who grunted "and where do you have in mind?"

Belphegor was a bit surprised when (name) had him teleport to (name)s space, the Omega leading him to his nest and gently pushing him in "much nicer!" He said simply as Belphegor let the other sit beside him as the demon pulled him close, already sleepy "you're a sleep demon right?" (Name) Asked curiously and Belphegor grunted "sloth avatar" his voice low and rumbly as (name) nodded "that must be tough"

"Not really... Now stop talking and sleep" he ordered the Omega who just let him hold him like a teddy bear.

The two slept for a few hours, the others looking for (name) everywhere before finding him in the nest "no fair, why does he get to go in the nest!" Beelzebub whined as (name) looked so peaceful "we'll get to go in it eventually" it was nice to see (name) let his guard down, he was sweet yes but always nervous...

"Let's let them sleep, his heats soon so it's best to let him conserve energy" Lucifer instructed as they begrudgingly left "I worry for his heat though " Asmodeus commented as they left the apartment and the others looked confused "he knows basically nothing... He's reading books to figure it out because he's worried he won't be good, I don't even think he's masturbated before" how could he? Suppressants basically knocked the libido out of you and not to mention his upbringing "a heat is scared, between an Omega and their body for the first few years and he was robbed of it" Satan said softly and they sighed, he couldn't have this heat by himself as their were traditions but they didn't want him going into his first heat after being in suppressants for years without knowing anything about sex.

"Maybe ask him if he wants to fuck?" Mammon said simply and Asmodeus glared at him "as much as I want that, we have to be delicate with him! Teach him how to pleasure himself!"

"Then let's to that then!" The white haired Alpha argued back and Lucifer and Satan just sighed and Levi wanted to just not be in this conversation anymore, embarrassed as hell.

(Name) Woke later on, The sun setting as Beelzebub walked in "have a good nap, sleepy?" He teased and (name) rubbed his eyes "how long did I sleep?" He whispered and Beelzebub chuckled "five hours"

"You guys let me sleep that long?!" He worried and the Alpha smiled "you were too cute to wake, now come on! It's dinner!" He seemed excited and (name) looked at Belphegor "don't worry about him, he usually gets leftovers later" Beelzebub lifted (name) as the Omega yelped "wait! I'm heavy!" He panicked and Beelzebub laughed "like holding a couple of grapes, don't worry I'm strong" he teased as they walked down the halls, the gluttony demon feeling how soft his mate was, face right near his chest... Nope don't get an erection right now! 'think of awful things!' he thought as he thought of the worst things imaginable, wasting food and uuuh Solomon shirtless!

'Bleh'

"There's the sleepy bunny~" Asmodeus teased, (name) looking a little disheveled as sleep still had him in a bit of a hold "sorry I slept so long..." He whispered and Mammon snorted "you were napping with Belph, he has that affect" the Omega nodded as Mammon put food on his plate, a bit extra as the Alpha felt the urge to make sure (name) was cared for.

They spoke of weddings and such as (name) enjoyed his meal, little chirps occasionally leaving his lips at the foods be particularly enjoyed as the demons watched happily "maybe when your garden is ready for harvest we can use them~" Lucifer on (name)s other side gently fixed the others shirt, a typical alpha grooming of his mate as he began (fixing/cleaning) his (hair/face) "how you manage to get dirty"

After dinner, (name) was curious as Lucifer halted him with Asmodeus standing beside him "could we talk to you? Just for a moment?" Lucifer asked the Omega who looked curious but nodded, letting Asmodeus take his hand as they went to Lucifer's office "we hope this isn't too forward darling but we wanted to ask..." Lucifer seemed to struggle on what to say exactly as Asmodeus stepped in "we want your first time to be memorable, not in the throws of heat where you may not remember and maybe understand your body more" Asmodeus said to the other who was now seated in a plush chair as Asmodeus crouched infront of him "you deserve to have your first time be on your terms and learn what you like, we don't have to have sex but would you be open to it?"

"I-I... Isn't mating for the alphas?" He was supposed to give alphas pleasure! He was an Omega!

"Oh darling no, Sex is supposed to be good for both parties, you and your comfort matter just as much as ours"

"You wouldn't see me as shameful for wanting that?" (Name)s voice barely above a whisper and the two got closer "darling im the avatar of lust, nothing you do would be shameful to me and Luci here just wants you to feel pride in yourself and your body" he explained and (name) felt his cheeks get wet with tears "promise?"

"Of course"

They set up for two days from now, Asmodeus would teach (name) about his body... Intimately.

And (name) was nervous but a heat pooled in his stomach he wasn't familiar with, ever since he stopped supressants his body had felt like shocks went through it whenever his alphas touched him, his omega quiet after so long begging him to do whorish things...

Oh god, he's been here a few weeks and he's already like this!

He wouldn't admit it but he liked how freeing it was, his mates never judging him....

They actively tried spending time with him, having him join their activities and lives.

He remembered when Lucifer tried teaching him how to ride a horse, the black haired demon sitting behind him on the stallion and guiding him gently, it was absolutely wonderful!

He wanted to treasure that memory forever...

Belphegor was still in the nest when (name) returned and changed into his sleep clothes getting comfortable and passing out as the sleep demon held him in a vice grip, possession absolutely noticable with the hold as (name) was soothed by how warm and cozy it felt.

(Sisters name) Was hysterical when the royal wedding was announced, a grand event that had the entire kingdom in a flurry of celebration as their town marketed that they were the town that had the Omega.

So she did what was logical.

Get rid of the problem in her life.

(Name) Wouldn't see what hit him.

"So, where do you feel most comfortable? This is about you" Asmodeus asked the Omega who fiddled with his hands and looked at his nest and his bed "would it... Be messy?"

"Only if we're doing it right~" he teased and kissed (name)s forehead "remember, this is what YOU want" he reminded (name) who looked at his bed and then his nest "nest?" He asked softly and Asmodeus smiled "of course, do I have permission to enter your pretty nest?" He asked as (name) got comfortable in it and the smile on (name)s face said a lot as he nodded, Asmodeus moving them so (name) was in his lap "remember what I taught you about safe words?" He asked the Omega who nodded "tell alpha" he commanded gently and smelt the small amount of slick that escaped the omegas body "green means good... Yellow means that I'm not sure and slow down and read is stop" he said confidently as Asmodeus kissed his neck lovingly "such a good boy" he whispered into his ear and smiled when (name) subconsciously bucked his hips, he knew this cutie had a praise kink.

After all, he always wanted to be good for him.

"Now, I'm going to remove your clothes, remember what to do if it gets uncomfortable" he said as he used his magic to make (name)s clothes vanish, the other covering himself shyly "none of that, let me see you" Asmodeus said sweetly as he watched (name) uncover himself and god, was his omega so pretty...

"Now, the first rule of sex is getting comfortable with your own body" Asmodeus explained as he took (name)s hands and moved them across the omegas own body "know what feels good" he pinched (name)s cute nipple before moving their hands lower "and to know what feels /great/" the demon wrapped their hands around (name)s cute Omegan cock that was already erect and gave it a tug, watching (name) throw his head back at the sensation "o-oh!" He was confused and awe struck by the sensation, this was way better than the pillow humping he had been pitifully been doing lately. "This is your pretty cock, stroke it, play with its head... It's yours to use whenever you want~" Asmodeus explained and (name) let out a shaky breath as they stroked his cock, legs spread across Asmodeus' own "and if we go lower, we have your ass" he whispered to (name) and smiled at how fucked out (name) looked already and they barely started "you gotta prep yourself real nice, slowly work your way in..."

(Name) Whined out as Asmodeus chuckled "none of that, pretty boy" he whispered as he pulled (name) into a sweet kiss, slipping his tongue in shortly after as he helped (name) loosen up with both of their fingers though Asmodeus was just guiding. "When you feel it's loose enough, slowly push in... Don't worry the slick will help you" he pulled away to continue his lesson with his omega who was already drooling and unfocused as Asmodeus gently helped him push in "all the way to the knuckle...~"

Asmodeus helped (name) fuck himself in one finger before slowly introducing a second finger, (name) could feel his erection on his back and rutted into it as his hips shook, his fingers felt good but not good enough... "It's not..." He couldn't figure out how to say it as Asmodeus kissed his scent gland "it's not what darling?" "M-more!" He cried out, fully lost in it as he pushed his hips up subconsciously.

"Do you want alpha to take care of you? Show you something great?" Asmodeus asked the other who wnined "what color are you baby?"

"Green!"

"Good boy"

Asmodeus removed (name)s fingers before replacing them with his larger ones, down to the knuckle before his other hand moved to the omegas cock "hey baby.. look at me" (name) complied as Asmodeus began thrusting against his prostate and jerking him off "shiaaa!" He could barely keep himself from cumming as he let out a loud cry, cum getting everywhere "and that pleasure button was your prostate... Use that whenever your heart desires ~ rub it and press it~" he said softly as (name) barely could stay awake "you wanna continue baby? Tell alpha"

"Gu-reen" he barely could sputter out and Asmodeus chuckled "you're too precious~ let's wash you up and feed you" he lifted (name) with ease and took him to the ensuite washroom "you did do good, you were so pretty~" he praised the Omega who was putty in his hold, (name) definitely bad a lot of time to make up for with how repressed the poor thing was sexually...

The other brothers stroked themselves vigorously as they heard the sounds of (name) being pleasured and inevitable climax that had the Omega screaming.

"He's fast asleep, poor thing wanted more but could barely stay awake" Asmodeus said fondly as the others gathered in the parlor "hes definitely eager, loves to be a good boy ~" the smell of a pleasured Omega was strong, the smell of (pharamones smell) stronger and sweeter "before I put him to bed, he asked if you guys could join next time ~ such a sweet little thing"

He definitely was going to be a good dam to their respective pups.

The other alphas were definitely interested in joining next time.

With the news of the wedding approaching, the men were taking even more precautions and safety measures for the Omega, already having three poisoning attempts and an assassin that they apprehended while (name) was sleeping.

Switching their cutlery to silver from gold and both the food tester and Beelzebub to test (name)s food, the demon immune thankfully as the rest.

At most he would just have a stomach ache for an hour.

It was intense, the men constantly worrying for him as he went about his day with more guards much to his confusion as the days ticked closer, the grand wedding hall being decorated along with the rest of the palace as guests from around the world began arriving as he took a walk through the gardens, the demons having (name)s favorite flowers planted as he was the one who frequented the area the most.

currently he was trying to find Lucifer, the demon wanting to have tea with him but (name) was a bit directionally challenged as he eventually spotted horns and black hair "you're late" Lucifer remarked without any bite as he stood for the Omega, checking him over "I have something for you" the demon didn't waste time as he pulled out the collar "it's not safe to be unprotected like this" his words simple as (name) looked at the collar.

His family never let him have one, a form of control he supposed and he couldn't stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks as the demon looked worried "do you not like it?" His voice laced with light panic and (name) shook his head "i-i never had one??" His voice confused but soon Lucifer clicked the situation together and smiled "I will never let you go without, my love" he gently put the collar on (name), the Omega dressing in more lace and delicate clothes these days as Asmodeus had a fixation on shopping for him, it went together quite well "beautiful..."

"You think?" (Name) Asked nervously and Lucifer leaned down and kissed him "we'll get you countless collars in any color you want" he said honestly before leading (name) to the garden table with treats and tea set up "now, shall we eat?"

(Name) Was curious as he was handed a letter from his family, his father's seal in wax staring back at him.He didn't know what to do, this would be the first time in over a month that he would be hearing from his family.

He didn't know what to expect.

"Are you alright, Darling?" That was also a few development with the demons, pet names.

And Satan surprisingly besides Asmodeus was very heavy with them.

"I... I received a letter from my family" Satan was immediately suspicious of this letter as he walked to his omega "do you trust me?" He asked the Omega who nodded obediently "of course" he chirped "could I see this letter? To soothe my nerves" (name) knew of the things that have been happening and nodded, handing him the letter without a second thought and the blond gently kissed him "thank you, my dear"

He had the two poison testers open the letter in a glass room, something their grandfather made when people began putting poisonous powder in letters, it wasn't poisoned thankfully.

That would make for an angry Satan :).

But the contents of the letter?

Oh.

Ohohoho.

That made for him to get so upset he transformed a little more demonic from rage.

'(name),

We have been informed by our neighbors about your wedding, a surprise to us all as you haven't even sent your family an invitation seeing as you stole your sisters moment and flaunted it infront of her.

We are thoroughly disappointed and appalled at your attitude and would expect you to invite your sister as she deserves to see the life you stole from her even just once.

We are expecting an invite promptly.

(Mother's name) And (father's name), (lastname)'

The audacity.

The sheer audacity of these people, how did (name) manage to be related to these insects of people?! "definitely not letting Belphegor read this" or maybe he should... No (name) would be upset.

"Maybe we should invite them... One last look at someone they took for granted" and before they kept (name) away forever.

Give him everything and more.

God he couldn't wait to give that cute Omega who was currently petting one of the off duty p

#obey me omegaverse #obey me x male reader #obey me x reader #x male reader #male reader #obey me smut #anime x male reader #anime x reader #omegaverse #omega male reader #belphegor x male reader #Lucifer x male reader #satan x male reader #beelzebub x male reader #asmodeus x male reader #mammon x male reader #leviathan x male reader

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shapard · 3 months

Text

Feather of Fate🕊️

Lucifer x seraphim!fem!reader

Soulmate arc

Michael is an Asshole

Near death experience

An Angel cries

Chapter 3 < Chapter 4 > Chapter 5

Lucifer was on edge.

What is Michael doing here?

Why Michael of all? The one that hates him more than anything.

Michael was standing in his home destroying the peace Charlie and you had.

The peace you enjoyed so much that he wanted to keep.

For the sake of you two.

His inner demon wanted to rip Michael limp from limp.

Its craving to use Michael’s blood to paint the town in pure gold with his blood.

Lucifers feather rustle out of anger.

“You would never pay me a visit Michael. We both know that.” After all it was his Fault.

Michael and Gabriel gave him the Idea to begin with.

And in the end they were the one who let him fall into this personal nightmare.

In hell.

Lucifer almost lost his life because of them.

Meanwhile confusing was written all over your face.

Brother?

Michael? The Arch angel?

Your brain was working on overload.

Slowly it started to click. You completely dismissed the thought that Lucifer is an arch Angel.

An offspring from God himself.

The Soulmate bond let you feel Lucifers rage, and his urge to protect you and his daughter.

It pushes you to stay put and to have faith in him.

Lucifer was still in a protecting pose to protect you.

He didn’t even realize when he was in front of you.

In a blink of an eye, he saw himself protecting you with his wings. Making them larger and covering you.

What was wrong with him?

Was it because you grew close in these last days, or was there more?

Has he caught feelings for you?

It made sense. Common logic.

His train of thoughts were Interrupted by Michaels speech.

“You’re clever as ever. But I do have to disappoint you. I’m not here for you, but rather for that seraphim behind you.” Michael’s gaze moved from Lucifer towards you.

His pure blue eyes bored into you, you felt almost naked under his stare.

You fiddled with the hem of your dress hoping it will help with your anxiety that started to build up in your system.

You heard an animalistic growl coming from Lucifer.

“You better get the fuck away Michael.”

It is terrifying. Lucifer is terrifying. You should be scared, but you aren’t.

You found this utterly attractive.

Lucifers horns were showing in all their might and all you could do was looking at them in awe.

Michael was still staring at you, Ignoring Lucifers threat.

It fueled Lucifers Anger even more, the lights started to flicker in the hotel.

Sweat pearled down from Charlie’s face.

She’s never seen her father that pissed before. Not even with Alastor nor Adam.

His eyes showing nothing but crimson red. But he remained calm in front of his older Brother.

It would’ve scared Michael if he was a mere lower-class Angel or a demon in Hell.

But he was the Arch Angel Michael, nothing scared him except his father God and Gabriel.

He started to smirk showing his pearl white teeth, and it settled off you.

Lucifer and Michael looked so similar, same hairstyle, same face.

There was a huge difference between these two though. Michael was cold, his aura was dark and with nothing but anger and Ignorance.

Meanwhile Lucifers Aura was warm, like a hot bath that was pure relaxation. His aura was white and pure.

Maybe it was the bond. But you see a foul soul when there's one.

But one thing they had in common, and that's their pride.

You don’t have a good feeling about this.

He wants something, but what?

What can be so special in here that an Arch Angel comes down here and confronts his brother?

What makes you so special that Michael would come down here?

Michael's predatory gaze was following your every movement making you want to run or plead for your life.

Lucifer widened his wings shielding you from the other Arch Angel.

You sigh in relief; you don’t want to spend any second longer with Michael's stare.

Not with the way he was looking at you.

Like a treat he could eat for breakfast.

“You should leave.” Lucifer’s eyes never left Michael’s.

All what he did was starting to laugh at Lucifer, “Aww, Little Lucifer protecting a fallen Angel How cute.”

In the next moment Michaels wings spread and he flapped them to create a hurricane like wind blow.

Wind blew softly in your face, Lucifers wings helped that you didn’t fly away from the force.

With a crash Nifty flew into the alcohol bar, leaving a mess with broken bottles. Husk frowned, “Oh great.”

The whole crew hid behind the staircase to take cover from the Arch Angel.

Michael whistled. “You seem to grow a liking towards that girl.” He pointed at him then at you, “what happened with Lilith? Cheating on her?” Lucifer gritted his teeth and took a step forward.

He wants to crush Michael skull on this hellish floor. Drawing an abstract painting in pure Gold on a red canvas.

“That’s none of your business.” Michael gasps at him, holding his mouth with his hand. Acting all shocked.

You could swear Lucifer was ready to bounce on him.

His devil tail flicked dangerously from side to side.

That’s what Michaels want.

He wants to see Lucifer loses control and letting his guard down.

He wants to piss his little Brother off. And Lucifer fell for it. His pride is taking over not thinking correctly.

Your feet carried you towards Lucifer, grabbing his shoulder to stop him. “Luci, don’t. That’s what he wants.”

He didn’t look your way but stopped in his track.

This disappointed Michael.

Deep.

Usually this works, it always worked. Why not now?

He came here to have fun with you and Lucifer, but you ruined it for him.

“You are listening now to a random bitch?”

This was the last straw for Lucifer. No one talks to you like that.

Lucifer flew up to get more speed when he flew back down to kick Michael in the stomach. That send Michael flying towards the nearest house.

Leaving nothing but ruins from the building.

Coughing he looked where Lucifer was, nowhere to be seen.

Confused he threw stones in every direction trying to hit Lucifer.

Lucifer laughed at this useless attempt. “That’s what you’re doing now? Throwing stones? Who's the Bitch now?”

His heart started to race out of fear.

He whipped his head frantic searching for his enemy.

A howling laugh vibrated through hell and a crash followed it.

Lucifer punched Michael hard into the floor letting Michael see black for a minute.

The earth shook under the force making you slump down at the sudden ground movement.

Michael spit out one of his Paper white teeth, it was covered in golden blood.

Michael realized that Lucifer got stronger and could easily get rid of him.

But that can’t be true, that’s not fair.

“Fuck.” He screamed as he heard Lucifers laugh from joy.

Michael panicked; he still couldn’t see Lucifer anywhere.

He was scared to death.

Sweat covered his injured now dirty white skin. His golden head piece had a slight crack in it.

How can I get away from here?

Then he remembers.

you.

You were his compass right now and Michael can use you.

Use you to cause mental damage to Lucifer.

Lucifer stepped out of the dark, stalking slowly forward like a predator to their prey.

Michael crawled back. His hand slipped on a small rock making him fall on his back.

Lucifer took the opportunity and charged forward. Michael dodged his attack just in time, flying towards your direction in 200km/h.

Searching for Lucifer in the distance, you saw someone flying towards you.

Your eyes widen in excitement, thinking it is Lucifer.

You walked slowly towards him, only to see that this is not your Lucifer.

This Aura, so dark and it was scary.

It was Michael.

You started to run to the opposite direction, you knew he would catch you easily if he wants to.

But you won’t give up without a fight.

Michael’s hair was all a mess, he looked like a maniac who lost control.

Blood all over his white attire and dirt all over him.

He grabbed your wrist lifting you up in the air.

You screamed, kicking your feet all around you.

For the first time in decades, you seem scared of heights.

Not having wings comes with fear from heights. Not being available to fly when you fell. Getting crushed by gravity wasn’t exactly how you planned on dying.

Your scream was quickly caught the attention from Lucifer, out of panic he teleported his way to you.

His tail swayed dangerous from side to side as he looked at the disgusting mutt of a brother holding you up with your wrist.

Pain and fear were written all over your demeanor and for the first time in this battle he felt scared.

Scared that he’ll do something to you.

Scared that if he interferes, you’ll die.

Michael Shaked you a bit to piss off Lucifer more. As if you were a mere piece of meat laid on display in an auction house.

Meanwhile he swung you around your sleeve of your dress slipped down revealing the apple mark on your wrist.

As fast as you could, you tried to pull the sleeve back up, but Michael stopped you.

Michael raised an eyebrow at you, what was your plan?

He took a glance at the thing you tried to hide, and oh did he never forget that mark.

You share the same mark like him.

Like Lucifer.

“Really? That’s all the fuss why you’re doing all of this?” You looked away in shame.

Michael was to say at least very confused. You were ashamed of being Lucifers soulmate? He would be too, but you clearly enjoy his presence way too much to hate this.

Then it clicks, “Ohhh, he doesn’t even know.” You bitt your lip, showing Michael that his speculation was Indeed right.

Lucifer was standing there at his friendlier form, observing the scenery above him.

He doesn’t know what?

You knew this would happen at one point.

You hid it very well the couple days, even though your heart was aching for that man. To tell him the truth.

But you were afraid. Will he reject you? Or does he even enjoy your presence, when he finds out the soulmate bond makes him feel that.

Michael pulled you in front of his face, you two were so close that you could feel his breath on your lips.

“You’re not better than your mother. To keep a secret that huge and so small,” His hand stroked your mark, it started to burn in your wrist making you scream in terror.

It felt like someone was burning a piece of iron into your cold skin making your blood underneath boil.

You felt hot and lightheaded.

You wiggled your whole body, trying to get out of Michaels grasp.

The tears that fell out of your eye collides on Lucifers face; his clawed fist clenched hard the claws shoving into his palm drawing blood.

Michael ripped a piece off your long-sleeved dress showing your mark towards Lucifer.

Lucifers eyes widen, no that couldn’t be.

He searched in your eyes the answer, but you looked away, ashamed.

And it hurts him. Why didn’t you tell him?

He unconsciously rubbed his mark on his wrist which started to itch since Michael touched yours.

Now everything made sense for him.

Why he felt that kind of euphoric, why he felt so in love. Why his heart ached for you every time you’re not there.

That’s why he was so attracted to you.

And you lied to him. God knows how long.

He is mad at you, but he won’t lose you out of his anger.

You were his last chance, his nemesis.

He must get rid of Michael before he can deal with you.

Meanwhile you struggled in Michael death grip on your wrist. Your hand felt numb with no blood getting pumped in it.

“I can’t kill you Y/n. But I can cause you pain which will hurt him even more.” His eyes shifted towards Lucifer smiling from ear to ear.

His laugh that rippled through his ribcage made you cringe.

His hands let you fall out of his grip. Before you could relax, thinking he would let you go. He grabbed your hair making you wince.

He pulled out a little dagger and pressed it against your neck. “Let’s see if your blood is still golden.”

Lucifer flew as fast as he could towards you stretching his arm towards Michael and you. Michaels words echoing in Lucifers brain. Let’s see if your blood is still golden.

But it was too late.

His knife slashed a cut on your neck, golden blood started to gush out and you started to choke on your own blood.

“No!”

It was hard to breath, every time you tried to take the oxygen in your lungs, blood filled them which made you cough and choke every time.

Michael let you go, disgusted that your blood spilled on his cloths.

He removed his golden strand out of his face smiling widely at Lucifer.

“Next time I make sure to you two will never see each other. Farewell.” With that he teleported away leaving a mess in hell behind him.

Lucifer punched into the cement where Michael was standing.

His heart stopped when he heard you choking from your own blood.

Ache

Rushing to your side he pressed on your wound tight. “Please, please don’t die.”

All you could feel was pain, and the warmth of Lucifer by your side.

And there it was again, the warmth of his powers flowing into your system.

it was calming. Making you almost forget the pain you’re in.

Lucifer was on the edge of crying.

Forgetting that you didn’t tell him that you were his soulmate.

All he could think about is that you were slowly dying.

He feels useless.

Charlie watched the scene, feeling bad for her dad.

He told her that he has a soulmate, someone who is his other half.

But since he fell, he’d never see them.

It was sad to see his depressed expression when he thought about it.

But now he found out in the middle of the battlefield that he found her. And now he may lose someone precious. His other half. The reason he still had faith.

She looks at her father saying a mantra all over and over again.

Please don’t die, please, please Y/n don’t leave me. Please.

He felt alone like he did when Lilith left him, but this is not the same.

You’ll never come back. Leaving him with an empty void in his heart that cannot be filled.

He survived the void that Lilith left in him.

But not you, his soulmate that helped him without even knowing.

Every night he thought of you. Not even in a sexual way.

He held the duck he made for you tight to his body to feel comforted in some kind of way.

And it all makes sense. But it may be too late.

Here you were, slowly dying in his hands. Passed out from your blood lost.

His tears dropped down on your lips making you feel the salty sweet substance.

An Angel cries.

Your neck wound started to close making him sigh in relief.

you have lost a lot of blood, and it was still life threatening but the bleeding was stopped.

You have a chance to survive this.

He stroked your cheek softly removing the dirt that was on your face.

He pressed his forehead on yours in a comforting way.

“Please wake up.”

A/n: 👀 Soooo, how y'all doing? Thank you to all who are writing so sweet comments<3

Hope you enjoyed this chapter❤️

💫

@ayanazoldyck @marydragneell @lunaryasha @cherry-cola-100 @lxkeee @latersgates-steven @fandom-crashlanding @cupidsgift

#y/n #hazbin hotel #lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #female reader #angel #michael hazbin hotel #shapard

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planeteroticaaa · 3 months

Text

— ALL MINE

(part of erotica’s & lovae’s valentines special💋)

ice hockeyplayer!jean who walked around the campus with the many gifts and trinkets various girls gave him, each one wishing him good luck for the big game today. he didn’t care about the chocolates, teddy bears, or the other stupid shit they gave him. hell, he didn’t even bother reading the love letters. none of it meant anything to him when he had to figure out an over the top way to make you his valentines because not only were you his soulmate and the one he’s supposed to grow old with, but he needed to win you back.

he walked past your lecture hall like he did everyday on his way to his own, thinking about how he used to be late to his own class trying to walk you to yours. it never mattered to him seeing as he always made up for it by participating in class and getting high grades on assignments. he didn’t know why he still poked his head inside the room to see if you were there. he tells himself and his friends that it’s to make sure you “got to class safely”, but in reality, he knows nothing’s gonna happen to you in the 5 to 6 minute walk from the dining hall to your lecture. truth be told, he really just wanted to see you. since the two of you broke up, you avoided him like the plague, but he knew you would have no choice but to see him when he’d visit the room you were in daily, using the fact that one of his teammates was in the same class as you.

though today was different because right when he was about to go into the room, he watched that very teammate ask you out with flowers and chocolates. he glared, scoffing watching you act all “excited” about candies you hated and flowers that weren’t even your favorite. it took everything in him to stop himself from going in there and breaking his jaw when you kissed his cheek and hugged him with your arms around his neck and his on your waist. how would you feel watching him kiss a girl after reading her love declaration?! it was even worse knowing he would have to play with him later today. the whole team knew he was still obsessed with you, especially this guy since he always teased jean about it so what fuck was he doing asking you out?

he thought about it the entire day. he knew that many guys were interested in you, but he didn’t think somebody would actually be bold enough to do something about their feelings. he had on his gear, ready for the final game of the season. his coach’s words of motivation went in one ear and out the other as he stared down his smug ass teammate. as everyone started to hype themselves up with different handshakes and chants, jean remained quiet, even bumping his shoulder going past him. his final straw was seeing you cheering at the game, just, not for him. you screamed that asshole’s name, your friends alongside you all happy about your possible new relationship and when he winked at you, jean tackled him onto the ice.

he knew he was in a world of trouble now once he got on top of him. he grabbed the collar of his shirt and began punching him, not stopping when the guy managed to get situated and got a few hits in, or when the security rushed over, or when he heard his coach yelling at him from the side. he had slight bruising on his cheek, his lip was bleeding, his knuckles were scratched up when he threw his gloves off, and he was being penalized and cussed out by his coach, but it was worth seeing you stare at him with your mouth gaped open. your more confused than pissed face said, “did you seriously just do that?” and the wink he gave you with the smirk on his lips while his coach spat in his face said, “yeah, and i’d do it a thousand times over.”

he wasn’t shocked when you went home right after the incident. he was hoping to talk to you once the game was over, but it worked out since it gave him time to buy the snacks and sweets you actually liked, flowers that were actually your favorite, and prepare his “i’m sorry, please take me back” speech. he originally wanted to do something crazy to show his never ending love, but it was clear after today he had no time to waste. with a done up basket, pretty flowers, and a speech he recited under his breath on the way to the door, he was ready though when he knocked on your front door and you opened it wearing his spare jersey he thought he lost with nothing visibly under it, arms crossed over your chest and leaning against the door frame with a disapproving look on your face, everything he planned to say left him at that very second. “well?” you asked with an eyebrow raised. “gimme another chance?” he asked, an unsure grin on his pretty, bandaged face. you looked him up and down and just sighed before grabbing him by his shirt collar and dragging him inside the room.

“s-shit baby…you’re squeezing me so tight,” he groaned, his head thrown back on your pillow, big, veiny hands on your hips as you bounced yourself on his cock with your hands back behind you on his strong thighs. you almost forgot how big and girthy his dick was, the stretch burning you when you first sat down on it after months of nothing and guys that were no match to him. “look so beautiful riding me like that,” he said mostly to himself, staring up at you with lust blown pupils, taking in the blissful expressions you made and the softness of your breast as he massaged them under the jersey.

fuck, it felt amazing, the veins running along his length grazing your walls, the curve ensuring the fat tip hit you right where you needed it, the thickness of it giving you that same delicious burn from before that had your legs about to give out, the ring of white cream you made at the base of his cock dripping down his balls, ass sticking to his pelvis from your mixed, gluey essences. you were getting tired and he could tell you were with how you occasionally didn’t bounce, but instead rocked your hips with your nails digging into his skin and biting down on your bottom lip.

he watched you, wondering when you’d quit being stubborn and admit you need help as he moved his hands all over your body, pinching your nipples, gripping your waist, harshly slapping your ass. he hadn’t had you like this in months, dick inside your tight walls making a mess all over him and whatever surface was beneath you. how long had it been since you fucked somebody? he hadn’t done anything to any woman since you’d broken up, even going as far to tell them that he was still with you. well, it didn’t matter, he could tell from the whimpers and whines that left your lips as your desperately rode him to continue that sensation of his cock bruising your cervix that if anybody fucked you, it wasn’t like this.

it was when your pace significantly slowed down that he sighed and pulled you down to him. your arms immediately wrapped around his neck like you were waiting for him to do this as he propped his feet into the bed sheets. with his hands on your ass, spreading it apart, he started to thrust up into your pussy. you screamed, eyes rolling back as his fat cock dragged in and out of you, balls slapping against you from the fast, rough change in pace. you could tell much he missed you from the way he hugged you close to him while making you cream in his cock. “yes! j-jean—yes, just like that, don’t stop!” you cried out, drool dripping down your chin as he fucked you further through your orgasm, overstimulating your pussy when he reached a hand down to rub harsh circles on your puffy, throbbing clit.

“missed you so much, baby,” jean grunted, the speed of his thrust into your pussy not letting up. “i—i missed you too! missed you so much,” you cried, moving your head from its spot in the crook of your neck to look him in his light brown eyes. your lips soon met his, tongue hastily pushing inside his mouth and swirling along his after such a long time without one another. everything was messy, saliva coating both of your chins, the liquids from your previous orgasms painting the bedsheets and allowing him to better fuck up into you with ease, the thin layer of sweat that covered your bodies sticking the two of you together.

“please, please, please fill me up,” you babbled incoherently, begging when you felt his cock start twitching inside your tight, gummy walls. his thrust became rougher, the broken, but rough and intense rhythm of his mushroom tip hitting everywhere you needed it too taking you to the brink of another orgasm. “imma fill your pretty pussy with my cum…she’s missed me so much, hasn’t she?” “yes! s-so much!” you gasped, eyes in the back of your head and body jerking as you started creaming all over him again. “i’m cumming! ‘m cumming, ‘m cumming, fuckkk!” you practically sobbed, pussy gushing. your walls spasmed around his cock, making him pump your insides with his hot, thick, ropes of cum.

you felt it leak out of your abused hole as he continued to fuck and overstimulating the two of you through your orgasms to the point you were crying and he was biting down on your shoulder with his eyes rolled back. you continued to fill the room with the most filthy noises, the sweet squelching sound from you pussy echoing and the slapping of your skin on his being all that you could hear once he had you seeing stars because he didn’t stop, even when he was about to cry from the overwhelming feeling himself. he was just too scared to lose you again.

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klausysworld · 11 months

Note

Hi, I was wondering if you could write a one shot of klaus x reader. Where reader is apart of Elena’s group of friends but klaus’s mate and she’s made to choose between her friends or klaus and klaus doesn’t think she’ll choose him and tells her it’s ok but she surprised everyone and chooses klaus and betrays Elena for him

You can put as much angst as you want.

Thanks 😊

Forever

A soulmate wasn’t something Klaus had been expecting when he came to Mystic falls to break his curse. And at first the idea was ridiculous to him and he saw it as a weakness.

But there was something about her that pulled him in. Deep down he knew that she was perfect for him, and he would do whatever he had to do that he could be perfect for her too.

Even if it meant not having her.

She wouldn’t choose him, he was sure of it. Not after everything he had done to those she considered family.

Time after time he had blown up her life and every time he could feel her disappointment as she looked from him to her friends, ultimately walking away from him each and every time.

And when it was time for him to leave and go to New Orleans, he didn’t believe it was worth asking her to come with him, he was so certain that she wouldn’t want to at all.

When she found out he was leaving, her heart and soul ached. She loved her friends, she did but she also knew that they would never love her as much as she did them. Elena would always come first, compared to Elena (which she frequently was) she was nothing.

She thought that maybe Klaus would have at least mentioned it to her instead of her finding out from an overjoyed Damon.

See they spoke fairly often, even if neither of them really noticed, whenever they were in the grill minutes would turn into hours. At the ball she had seen a painting of herself which Klaus instantly became embarrassed of and ushered her down the stairs.

She knew that he wanted her, why would he leave her behind? She wasn’t sure until he came to say goodbye.

———————————————————————

“I’m sure you know by now that I’m leaving, I’m going to New Orleans…I uh…I’d ask you to come but I think we both know that wouldn’t happen so um..I wanted to give you some things” he whispered, his brows furrowed as he swallowed the lump in his throat. He was looking anywhere other than her eyes as he handed her a gift bag of sorts. “I wasn’t sure how to give it to you so um…” he let out a breath as she took it from him, her hand brushing his.

He fell quiet as she looked through the things before looking up at him in confusion “keys?”

“To my- your house” he murmured and her lips parted in surprise

“Klaus-“

“I know it’s a little much, you can sell it if you like…you can do whatever you like with it and anything you find inside. I’ve left my number on a card just incase you get a new phone and you ever need me for anything or if…well anything” he mumbled while showing her the card

He looked at her for a moment, she remained in a state of shock as she looked back at him.

Hesitantly he took a step closer to her, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. His face nuzzled her hair as he closed his eyes. She returned his hug until a throat clearing drew them both back to where they were.

Klaus moved away from her, a lingering kiss on her forehead before he disappeared from in front of her.

———————————————————————

She hated every second he was gone.

She hated being in the grill and not being able to find him.

She hated that he wouldn’t randomly appear just to ask about her day.

She hated the way her friends spoke about him.

She hated how they blamed him for every little thing.

She hated how they called her crazy when she defended him

She hated how they hated him.

She hated that she loved him.

And not because she didn’t want to love him but because she wasn’t allowed to.

And it took her weeks to realise that the people who were supposed to be her family wouldn’t do this to her if they cared about her.

So after arguing for days, objects thrown and screams aimed at each other, she found herself in New Orleans.

She had knocked but he wasn’t in which should have told her to go away but she instead she managed to get inside and worked out which room was his.

She snooped as most people would and smiled at the array of paintings and sketches of herself. She saddened at the letters he had written to her but never sent.

Her fingers tapped along the edge of the book she had found in his room, not something she would have thought he’d read but still engaging.

Halfway in she heard the door slam downstairs and a range of angry voices before more doors were thrown open and closed. Heavy footsteps made their way up the stairs before he walked in.

His hands rubbed his eyes and pushed his hair back as he sighed. She put the book down and waited patiently for him to notice her in the room with him.

He kept his face in his hands for a moment longer making her frown and get up quietly, she silently pulled his wrists away from his face. His eyes locked on hers in an instant, his expression softening as he blinked in confusion.

“Bad day?” She asked gently and he breathed out a soft laugh as his arms circled her body. She smiled to herself as she pressed her forehead against his with a content sigh.

“What are you doing here?” He whispered though not in any way complaining

“I was hoping I could stay…if you’ll have me”

“Of course I’ll have you, you’ll stay as long as you’ll let me have you” he muttered, his nose just touching hers and their lips barely brushing each others.

“I think I’ll love you forever” she whispered and he felt a grin pill at his lips

“Then you can stay forever, for I will love you always”

And with that, their lips finally met.

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thepixelelf · 2 months

Text

and the universe said,

07 - "bro, chill"

genres/tags: soulmate au, idol au, comedy, romance, dumbassery relationship(s): ot13 x reader chapter warnings: coarse language. kithing. a liiitle svt on svt violence note: ik it's been a long time please be nice to me <3 (this isn't edited... I'll take a look at it when I have the time)

When soulmates are suddenly thrust upon the world, you are one in a million who wishes they weren’t – and that’s before you meet the person (people?!) making your life much harder than it needs to be. And before someone asks you to sign an NDA.

series masterlist

prev ⭒ chapter seven (4.0k) ⭒ next

“Where are they?” Myungjun asks as soon as Jihoon and Junhui enter the room they agreed upon.

Junhui braces both of his arms on the back of a chair. “What do you mean?”

“Your soulmate—” Cutting himself off with a sigh, Myungjun pinches the bridge of his nose and answers his own question. “You didn’t bring them.”

Yejung, who was sitting at a table with her laptop, shuts it with a frown. “Why not?”

Junhui shrugs. “I’m just here because Jihoon dragged me out.” He shifts between looking at the three other people in the room. “You guys know I just met my soulmate, right? I don’t like not having them here with me, either.”

“Well then why didn’t you—”

“They don’t know.” Jihoon cuts off Myungjun’s words, then pulls out a chair and drops himself in it. He stares at a random spot on the table. When he doesn’t elaborate any further, Yejung sends a furtive glance Myungjun’s way.

“Don’t know…” She leans her forearms on the table and scoots her chair closer. “...what? That you’re their soulmate? That there’s more than one of you? That you’re famous?”

Junhui snorts. “All of the above?”

At Junhui's quip and Jihoon's continued silence, Myungjun raises a cynical brow.

"You didn't tell them?" Yejung asks, softly shocked. "Why?"

Junhui's eyes skirt to Jihoon; he's unwilling to share his own reasons, though he doesn't quite understand this about himself, either.

Jihoon sighs. "I don't know. It's complicated. Things happened too fast the first time we—"

"The first time?" Myungjun echoes. "So you've been with them multiple times."

“Don’t say it like that.” Jihoon almost pouts, but the facial expression just makes him look angry. “Look. I ran into them when the vocal team was on the way to that radio show. We’d stopped by a cafe and there wasn’t much time and I was so out of my mind that I—” He cuts himself off. “It doesn’t matter. I got their number, and then they left. I asked to meet today and we did. Jun was already there for…” With his arms crossed, Jihoon looks over at Junhui, remembering that he still doesn’t really know what Junhui was doing at the same cafe you apparently frequent. Is this the same cat cafe Junhui is always talking about? “…some reason. Then someone started singing, and they told us their soulmate is stupid and annoying because their mark…”

“It’s not like ours,” Junhui finishes for Jihoon, though this only deepens the confusion written on Yejung and Myungjun’s faces.

“If it's not like yours, then how do you know they're your—”

“It's them, Hyung.” Jihoon can't help noticing the hopelessness in his own voice. It's you. He knows it's you.

But you don't know it's them— him.

And he's not sure you want to know.

“Their mark, like, grows,” Junhui explains. “Ours just stay on our hands, but when one of us sings, the notes go all over their arms and neck. Maybe other places — I don’t know — but they obviously don’t think it’s either of us since we weren’t singing when their mark did its thing.”

“So…” Myungjun crosses his arms and taps his finger on his bicep. “They don't like their mark.”

Junhui doesn't nod right away, but he does eventually.

Myungjun turns to Jihoon. “And you think that means they don't like you.”

Groaning and rubbing his hands over his face, Jihoon doesn't dignify that with a response. “Even if they did like their mark, it’s an insane situation. Thirteen soulmates? They’re gonna run for the hills when they find out.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Yejung says, to which Jihoon gives her a dry look and Junhui’s eyes light up. She clears her throat. “We just need to find a way to calmly inform them of the situation — preferably in a safe, comfortable environment.”

Myungjun recognizes a Yejung Game Plan brewing when he sees it. “Basically, what she’s saying is…”

“Let me talk to them.” Yejung opens her laptop again and begins typing away. “We just need to go about this in a calm, logical manner.” She gives a little nonchalant wave of her hand. “This’ll be easier than a design meeting.”

⭒

You’re sitting on the floor of your apartment, arms crossed, legs too, as you stare down at the shiny black credit card lying there between you and Heejun. His position mirrors yours, head tilted while he studies the card.

“It could be fake,” you say. Your knee bounces up and down, up and down.

Heejun lifts his head to give you a look. “Why would it be fake?”

“He said he doesn’t believe in banks.”

“It doesn’t look fake.” Heejun reaches out and takes the card, flipping it over in his fingers to read the back. “Looks like any other credit card. We should test it.”

You frown. “How?”

“Uh,” Heejun speaks like the answer is obvious. “Buy something?”

Okay, it is obvious, but the idea doesn’t sit too well with you. “Isn’t that stealing?”

“He gave you the card.”

“Yeah, but the police don’t know that,” you argue. “If I got charged for fraud, it would be his word against mine— no one would believe coffee guy just handed me his black card.”

Without moving his head, Heejun glances up from the card to look at you. "Why would he lie?"

"Um, because he already has? Who knows— maybe this card is connected to illicit activities and he planted it on me to implicate me."

“Which he would do because…?”

You throw your hands up in the air, then let them drop emphatically at your side. “I don’t know! Why did he do any of what he did?”

He raises a brow. “Because he’s a weirdo who likes you?”

“Okay but have you ever given your credit card to a person you’ve only met twice?”

Heejun’s shoulders rise in a shrug. “I’ve wanted to.”

“Seriously?” You can’t imagine your friend going that gaga over a crush, but then again, there was that girl in fourth grade whom he gave all his choco pies to. Heejun loves choco pies.

“Mine would decline though. It wouldn’t exactly impress.”

You lightly shove his shoulder. “Oh come on, it wouldn’t decline.”

“It would if they went over the limit. People only give people their credit cards for expensive stuff. You know that, right?”

The black card gleams up at you, almost tauntingly.

“Expensive stuff like what?”

He shrugs again. “Like a car?”

“You’ve been watching too many CEO dramas.” You exhale and place both hands on the floor with a pointed slam. Standing, you pick the credit card up and brush imaginary dirt off your pants.

“You won’t be so sarcastic when Park Seojoon tells you to keep that thing.”

You roll your eyes as you toss the card into the same trinket dish you keep your keys and other miscellaneous things in. “Isn’t that guy like six foot?”

“So was Huijun,” he counters.

“So are you. Is that all it takes to be a CEO nowadays?” you joke, pulling out your phone. “Height?”

Heejun scoffs, then frames his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “That and my devilish good looks.”

“Please.” You tap on a notification from an unknown number. “If that were true, you’d be the one handing out black…cards…”

At the way you trail off, Heejun furrows his brow and walks over to you. “What’s up? Did you fall for another online scam?”

Not this again. “Okay, first of all, that was not a scam, and I did not fall for it—”

“You didn’t fall for a not scam?”

“Shut up. What do you think this means?” You turn your phone towards him, and he takes it from your unsteady hand.

He reads aloud. “‘Hello, this is Shin Yejung of Pledis Entertainment.’ Did you apply there?”

“No,” you say, then shake your head and wave your hand. “I mean. I don’t know. Maybe. I applied to like five hundred places. But this isn’t that. Keep reading.”

Heejun takes a breath and starts reading like he’s holding a new edict. “‘It has come to my attention that you are in possession of one of my coworker’s bank cards.’ Oooooh, you’re in trouble.” He drags out the last syllable. “‘Please meet me at…’ whatever building, numbers numbers numbers… ‘so I can retrieve it. Please reply to this number for more information, and thank you for your time.’ Hm.”

“What do you think… am I getting arrested?”

Lowering your phone, Heejun gives you a seriously? look over it. “The cops are texting criminals now?”

“So you agree I’m a criminal.”

“You get annoying when you’re nervous, you know that?” When you roll your eyes, Heejun mirrors the expression and pokes your forehead long enough that he pushes you backward. “Look bub, you wanted to give the stupid thing back without using it, and now the opportunity has been handed right to you.” He waves your phone in the air like evidence. “The only question is why coffee guy didn’t just text you himself.”

You cross your arms. “Maybe he doesn’t like me as much as you thought.”

“One more self-deprecating comment out of you and I’m posting those pictures from your twentieth birthday.”

A gasp wrenches from your throat. “You wouldn’t!”

⭒

Joshua Hong doesn’t think he has that many unread messages on his phone.

He looks down.

Oof. 682.

Well, it’s not his worst.

Notifications fly by at the top of his screen.

[vernon] where is this guy

[chan] hyung this is important!!

[wonwoo] when have we known that guy to answer anything

[soonyoung] someone text yejung!!

It’s probably not that important, whoever they’re talking about. His members are likely just freaking out over this whole soulmate thing again.

Joshua lifts his hand and stares at his weird, natural — supernatural — tattoo. He still can’t bring himself to believe it.

Soulmates? Really? In this economy? This isn’t Tumblr.

At least… Joshua looks around the dance practice room… He’s pretty sure this isn’t Tumblr.

His phone rings, which is weird since he always has it on silent. Sliding the answer button, he brings the phone up to his ear. “Yejung?”

“Where are you?”

“The practice room,” Joshua answers plainly. “Isn’t this where we’re supposed to be today?”

Yejung sighs on the other end of the line. “I said in the group chat that we were dealing with soulmate stuff. Upstairs.”

Ah, so that’s what has everyone in a tizzy. “Alright, okay. Where am I going?”

“Room eight-thirteen—” He hangs up and starts to pack his things before Yejung can say, “Wait, no, nine-thirteen. We'll start when you arrive. Joshua? Hello?”

⭒

You check your phone for what must be upwards of the fifth time.

Yup, Shin Yejung of Pledis Entertainment definitely told you to meet her in room 813, and yet here you are. In room 813. Alone.

You shift on the leather couch. It’s a lounge-like room you’re in. You don’t really understand the purpose of such a room in an entertainment company, but whatever. You’re only here to return something you never should’ve had in the first place.

Although…

You turn the card over in your hand, watching the way the fancy lighting bounces off of it.

Why would Jihoon give it to you if he was just going to get it back like this?

Also, now that you really think about it, Jihoon did say something weird when he left yesterday with Huijun. Something about not letting “the rest” scare you off. Whatever that means.

The rest of what?

Or… whom?

You know Jihoon must work for the company in some capacity. The fact that both he and Huijun were wearing masks makes you think they could be artists…

Oh. Duh. Why didn’t you think of this earlier?

Switching apps, you tap the search bar and start typing. Just as you’re done with the last character of Jihoon HYBE, the door you entered through opens. You hastily slip your phone into your back pocket as you stand to greet the person coming in.

“Hello, you must be…” Your eyes scan over his face. He’s… delicate looking, until you move your gaze downwards a little, and his broad shoulders and thick arms are decidedly not delicate looking. “…Shin Yejung?”

You tilt your head. With no mask on the lower half of his face, he seems familiar. Now this guy must be an idol — you probably saw him on the walls when you were making your way through this maze of a building.

He just raises a brow. “Who are you?”

“Oh, uh…” You stay standing in front of the couch as he approaches you, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m just here to return this.” Lifting the black card up, you hold it out between you and the man. “It’s Jihoon’s.”

“Jihoon’s?” he echoes, then moves to take the card from you, pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

You both see it at the same time.

His mark, five black lines, clear as day.

Yours, peeking out from where your sleeve is pulled halfway up your hand.

You look up from your not-really-joined hands, then look down again.

No fucking way.

“Twinkle twinkle, little—” The notes, whatever they are, dance across his mark.

No fucking way.

You meet his eyes. “...Songbird?”

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. A few too many seconds.

Then, “So it’s you.”

“Holy—!”

At the same time as you try to jerk away, he attempts to turn your hand over and get a better look. Neither plan really works out. You stumble backwards, and with your hand in his, he gets pulled down with you onto the couch. His free hand shoots out to keep himself from slamming into you, but, persistent as the universe is, your faces end up very freaking close to each other anyway. Warmth from his knee on the couch cushion next to your thigh seeps through your clothing.

He doesn’t move. You don’t either.

For some reason, you feel stuck in place. Not in a bad way, necessarily, but… you just feel like you should be exactly where you are.

You’re almost too close to make real eye contact, so you just watch the way his eyes study yours.

“Songbird?” you whisper, though you have no idea what you’re trying to ask.

He stops analyzing you and finally looks at you. “Yeah?”

“…Are you leaning towards me on purpose?”

His lips (since when were you looking at those?) curl down at the corners. “Are you?”

Slowly, like your mind is trying to catch up to your body, you shake your head. “No…”

He drifts closer. Or you do. Or you both do.

Or something.

Your lips brush over his, and you feel just as much as you hear him whisper. “Then neither am I.”

In the span of a second, his free hand moves from the back of the couch to cradle your jaw, his thumb grazing gently just under your ear. He kisses you, lips moving over yours in a way you’ve felt before, but also in a way you’ve never felt before.

It’s strange.

Not bad strange, but strange in the way that it feels like you’ve just put the last of the groceries in the fridge. It’s like folding that final piece of laundry. Like coming home to the bed you made when you left in the morning.

It’s… satisfactory?

But that’s not the word people normally use when they think of putting their tongue in someone else’s mouth, right?

You’re running out of breath, but Songbird is insistent, and so are his lips, which you find yourself unable to get enough of. He pulls back for half a breath, registers your kiss me again or so help me facial expression, and dives right back in. He’s kissing you and you’re kissing him and you’re soulmates and…

Wait.

Soulmates?

“Wait,” you say, though it comes out more like, “Mmaem” Climbing both your hands up his — whoa — strong arms, you cup his cheeks in preparation to push him away, but he seems to like your touch. He covers the back of one of your hands with his warm palm, and he hums in a way that is not PG-13.

The sound has you melting, unfortunately.

Not for long though.

He’s ripped from you just as quickly as he fell onto you, pulled back by some guy with fluffy black hair, cozy attire head to toe, and… shit, a you’re in trouble glare the likes of which you’ve never seen before. He’s not even looking at you, yet you feel scolded.

“Yah!” he yells at your soulmate, who’s now on the floor. Then, after glancing at you for half a second and apparently finding zero more words to say, he shouts at him again. “Yah!”

Your soulmate opens his mouth, but then he turns to look at the now-open door, which leads you to do the same. A mob of prettyboys stands just outside, some with their jaws dropped and some looking like murder just got legalized and they’re on the prowl.

Someone’s despondent voice shouts, “Hyung!”

You feel like hiding under a blanket. Before your flight instinct kicks in, though, you recognize two familiar faces. “Jihoon?” His eyes meet yours when you say his name. “Huijun?”

One of the many boys among those you don't recognize echoes, “Huijun?” while sending him a weird look.

Someone pushes through the crowd — more like slinks through, occasionally nudging one of the other guys out of the way. His eyes stay firmly on you as he approaches, but you find no fear rising despite that. For some unknown reason, even as this completely unfamiliar man strides over to you with a frankly alarming amount of eye contact, you feel… safe.

Or at least, something close to it.

He kneels in front of where you're still seated on the leather couch, hand resting mere centimetres from leg. “Are you okay?” he asks, voice slightly nasal, but so, so gentle.

“Uhh…” Self conscious, you wipe at the corner of your mouth with your sleeve. You spot your soulmate catch you doing so, and a look of hurt crosses his face. His own reaction, though, seems to startle him, and his hand rises to gently prod his shiny bottom lip with one of his fingers. He looks confused.

Well, that makes two of you.

Taking in the man right in front of you — pretty, lithe, concerned for you despite his unfamiliarity — you fail to answer his question. “Are… you Shin Yejung?”

He lets out a laugh, relieved, maybe, that you're not not okay. “Jeonghan,” he says simply.

You nod. “Jeonghan.”

At your voice echoing his name, the man’s eyes light up. “Yes?”

“Oh, uh…” You weren’t trying to call on him for anything, but as you study his gaze, you find yourself lost in his confident ease. Something in his eyes says that he knew this would happen.

Maybe not this, exactly — your soulmate has found a spot on the floor and has not stopped staring at it, while the rest of the strangers are still watching you — but taking up the same space as you, facing you, smiling at you with a soft quirk at the corners of his lips.

“Ugh!” A woman’s exasperated voice makes you look up at the crowd by the door. “Get— out of the way, you… ugh—” She breaks through, pushing aside a tall guy who looks like he’s about to cry. “—you men!”

Stumbling to her feet, she rights herself and brushes her bangs out of her face with a huff. “Now, what is—” She spots your soulmate still on his ass and mutters something you’re pretty sure can’t be aired on any broadcasting network. “...my life.”

Your eyes meet hers as she takes another breath. “Please tell me you’re Shin Yejung.”

“Yes, we spoke over the phone.”

“Thank god.” Shaking off all the weird feelings you’d accumulated in the last — what? Two minutes? — you stand from the couch and sidestep Jeonghan. The black card fell at some point during that lapse of judgement (aka kiss), so you swipe it up off the floor and hold it out to her with no preamble. “I swear I’m not a stalker fan or anything. And I didn’t use it, so…”

You glance over at Jihoon, whose expression gives off an oncoming panic. Is he scared to see you? Why? Huijun looks just fine, happy even, with you here. You can practically hear the ‘hello’ he wants to say out loud.

You clear your throat. “Anyway, um. I didn’t mean to, uh…” As you nervously cross your arms, you nod towards your soulmate. “I’m his— I mean, we are… sorry. This is… I wasn’t exactly expecting to find the person who’s…”

Maybe you shouldn’t say you’ve been annoyed by your soulmate since you got your stupid mark. At least not while he’s in the room.

“That’s actually what I brought you here to talk about,” Shin Yejung tells you, a bit like a doctor who’s about to deliver the bad news first. She doesn’t even take the card from you. “Would you like to take a seat?”

You scrunch your eyes shut for a second with a little shake of your head, trying to manual reset your brain because clearly it’s still muddled. “Sorry, what? You want to talk about…?”

The mob of men in the room get hidden from your vision as Yejung strategically places herself between them and you. “Soulmates,” she says.

You look down at the black card, then back up at her again. “Soulmates.”

“Yes. Your soulmates. I was hoping to talk to you alone first.” She sends a pointed look at the men behind her. “But it’s not exactly easy to get these guys to lis—”

“Sorry.” You wave a hand in the air to get her to stop, unable to comprehend any of her words after— “Did you say my soulmates? As in… mates, multiple? Mates with an S at the end? I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

Remaining calm while your mind spins, Yejung nods. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

“Know what is a lot to take in?”

Yejung opens her mouth to answer, but a voice blurts out behind her, “We’re your soulmates!”

Maybe you haven’t known him long enough or talked to him that many times, but you recognize Jihoon’s voice, and something in your gut suddenly grows sharp. Not painful, but begging for you to feel it. Yejung shifts so your field of view is once again filled by men too pretty to be all in the same room. Jihoon’s standing there, fists clenched at his sides, out of breath for no discernable reason other than…

We’re your soulmates.

Seeing your hesitation, Jihoon huffs and tears a bandaid you never really noticed off the back of his right hand. Even before he completes the motion, you know what must be under the bandage. He holds his hand up, though, and the evidence is very near damning.

Next to him, Huijun smiles and lifts his arm, pointing to his own five lines with his opposite hand.

Most of the guys behind them show you the same thing. Five lines on the smooth backs of their hands, near the base of the thumb. Dear lord, you don’t even know how many of them there are.

The angry one who pulled the man off of you earlier, at least, just looks lost, like he once had control and now has none. Relatable.

You stumble back a bit. Instinctively, you say, “Songbird?”

Though quite a few of the men seem to perk up at the nickname, only the one you already gave the moniker to truly reacts. Your soulmate — god, one of your soulmates? — looks up at you from the floor and answers, “Yeah?” before realizing he’s even doing it.

“Never mind,” you dismiss with a wave of your hand. “Ms Shin?”

“Yes?” She steps closer, a worried look on her face.

Jeonghan, too, moves toward you with a similar look on his face.

You try to take a steady breath and fail. “I think I’ll take that seat now.”

Swaying backward, your body falls onto the leather couch.

You hear approximately ten panicked shouts as you go down.

prev ⭒ chapter seven (4.0k) ⭒ next

new chapters for atus are not on a schedule nor guaranteed. there is no taglist. thank you for reading!

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orionremastered · 5 months

Text

Damian Wayne x Paramedic!Reader

Soulmate AU

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

CW: Poisoning, respiratory failure (just another Tuesday in Gotham)

When you were born, your parents were eager to see the first words of your soulmate written on your left forearm. You were woken from your sleep, wrapped in a soft blanket, when your mother gently took out your arm from the fluffy fabric.

Yet when she saw the words- no, word, singular- she paled. Your father leaned over and froze to a statue. Written on your wrist was;

Poison.

Yet your family's reaction wasn't even comparable to the confusion felt by the Al Ghul's in Nanda Parbat. When Talia read the words on her son's forearm, she could feel her heart stop for a moment.

You need to breathe.

The first words that the soulmate of Damian- the next Demon Head, next leader of the League of Assassins and the most intimidating and highly-trained man on Earth- would ever say to him shook Talia and Ra's to their core.

And once Damian was old enough to know what it meant, it shook him too.

Twenty Two Years Later...

The day started out as normal; you say hello to Harper, your partner in your ambulance unit, handing him a coffee before getting into the ambulance for a long twelve hour day shift, the day after Halloween.

"I don't want to be here," Harper says immediately.

"Neither," you reply before you pull out of the station and out into the street.

Not two seconds later, a beep sounds and Harper reads from the computer beside him; "Twenty-two year old male has collapsed and is struggling to breathe. Wayne Tower building on the top floor- that elevator better be in service or you're crashing this ambulance into a brick wall."

You snort, flicking on lights and sirens due to the nature of the incident and speed off towards the tower. You don't even need directions; the building looms over the entire city like a god and is a beacon of wealth- something two underpaid paramedics definitely do not have.

Arriving on scene and parking the ambulance hastily so that the back doors opened right next to the entrance, the two of you pull out the stretcher and rush into the building, many thoughts filling your mind as you reach the elevator- luckily in service- and hit the button for the top floor.

What could it be? Countless nights spent studying rather than sleeping fill your head as you sort through knowledge.

The elevator seemed to take forever, and maybe it did- this tower is extremely tall after all. You and Harper exchange glances just before the doors open.

Moving swiftly to the meeting room, full of businessmen in suits, your gazes are immediately drawn to the man on the floor.

Damian Wayne. Probably one of the few people who never needs to introduce himself.

He's not just struggling to breathe; you reckon he's paralyzed, too. Something sours in your gut as you crouch behind his head, Harper at his feet.

The Wayne's eyes lock onto yours as he takes in a raspy breath. "Poison," he chokes out. The words don't register just yet as the two of you lift him up from the floor and onto the stretcher.

"You need to breathe," you chide, and swear his eyes widen the slightest fraction. Harper straps him to the stretcher before giving you a nod. The only other person more famous than Damian follows you when you and Harper walk out with the stretcher. Bruce Wayne.

The elevator ride seems even slower going down. Bruce grips the side of the stretcher, knuckles white as Damian fights for each breath he wishes to take. But every second or so, Bruce's gaze flicks to you and makes you prickle with unease. Soon you realise Harper is doing the same thing.

Why- It hits you like a semi truck hitting a motorcyclist without a helmet on a highway. Damian Wayne's first word to you was 'poison', the same as it is written on your forearm.

The elevator dings and the door slides open. When you finally get him into the ambulance, Harper tosses you the keys without a word and settles beside the stretcher in the back, Bruce beside him.

You'll thank Harper later; right now, you need to get your soulmate to hospital.

"You should go check on him," Harper says at the end of your shift after handing the keys to the next crew. The two of you walk to the parking lot, tired and still processing the things you've seen. "Like, now. You've been angsty all shift."

"How can I not be?" you sigh. "Yeah, I guess I will, then. See you in two days."

Getting in your car, you pull out the parking lot and out into Gotham. The sky's getting dark- or darker- and the traffic is thinning. No one wants to be out at night, especially first responders. Yet instead of going straight home like normal, you drive to Gotham General Hospital.

The lady at the front desk frowns slightly when you ask for Damian Wayne. It's understandable; you're practically a nobody yet you're one of the most important people in the city.

"You are not immediate family or friends," the nurse says after a long back and forth. You bit your lip to stop yourself from saying anything you'll regret, but then again, she's a nurse. Nurses and paramedics don't get along.

"She's allowed," a low voice says from the hallway. Bruce Wayne, now changed into more comfortable clothing, looks almost as tired as you. Almost. He beckons for you to follow, leaving the nurse at the front desk flustered.

Damian's ward is private and more... luxury, if that's even a word used in the sense of hospitals. He's still asleep, and you find yourself checking his vitals with a glance. Not too bad, all things considered. He's definitely breathing better.

A weight lifts from you chest as you take a seat beside his bed. Bruce sits beside you in almost a casual way, yet you couldn't be further apart.

"What was it?" you say after a long moment of silence.

"Pardon?"

"The poison. He said it was poison."

"... right. It was curare," Bruce responds, rubbing his eyes. "Someone poisoned him with curare."

The only question left to answer now was who.

~~~

Masterlist

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #batfam #batfamily #bruce wayne #batman #x reader

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wonysugar · 10 months

Note

Sana spotting reader in the crowd at the concert and keeps looking at her the whole show, then tells her manger to bring you backstage after the show and she ends up taking you back to her hotel room…smut of course. Thank you!

tags : belittling, humiliation, spanking (or just plain degradation if you’d like), sana has a strap, smut with plot!

content warning : smut! that’s..it lol

pairing : fan!femreader x sana minatozaki

word count : 2k

a/n : thank you so much for requesting, sana’s my bias so i had a super fun time writing this!!<3 also I’M SO SORRY FOR KEEPING YOU WAITING!! i hope the wait is worth it!

there you were, standing in line for the twice tour concert happening in your city, you would’ve came with a friend, but nobody in your circle really likes kpop the way you do.

plus, you didn’t want anyone you knew to see you fangirling over a girl group who doesn’t even know you exist which would get significantly worse when sana comes on stage.

you brought your twice lightstick and a silly little sign that reads “sana please kiss me i need you badly”, this was a one in a lifetime opportunity, you needed to confess your undying love to your soulmate if given the chance! listening to your own thoughts playback in your mind, you giggled at your delusions. god, you’re hilarious.

before you knew it, the line progressed and you were finally sat for the concert. fanchants ready to be yelled out, lightstick set up. oh you were so ready. plus, you got front seats too, so you were even more hyped.

then, they appeared. suddenly, everybody just lost their shit you included and started screaming for their bias. song after song, dancebreak after dancebreak, the crowd was going absolutely wild. while yes, you were enjoying the performance as a whole, but you just couldn’t stop staring at your favorite member. and surprisingly, she stared back most of the time! smiling at you and winking as she sang, just basically fueling all of your delusions. the rush of it all gave you the confidence you needed to do this.

you waited until she looked at you again and just held the sign up, you didn’t give a single fuck about the people behind you, they didn’t matter! you needed to make sana remember you by something, even if it was lowkey embarrassing!

she took a few moments to read it, squinting her eyes, then.. giggled??

oh she wants you badly!! is what you told yourself because you and facing reality are not a good match! she took the sign from your hands and showed it off to the other members, earning a bunch of laughs and giggles from them, followed by some talking.

oh nevermind, she’s most likely making fun of you.

embarrassed, you started looking around, pretending you didn’t know what was going on as if everyone didn’t just see that she grabbed the sign from you. but then, you spotted her writing something on it with a sharpie. intrigued, you watched her as she finished up writing. she jogged over to you and handed you back your sign as she winked at you. you smiled nervously and muttered a confused ‘thank you’ before your eyes darted at the writing.

your eyes widened, both in confusion and very pleasant surprise.

‘stay here after the concert, a manager will come get you ;)’

oh my god.

the final song finished and everybody cheered loudly for the last time. you had a great time, but you just couldn’t stop looking at your sign, reminiscing about what she was planning. was she trying to get you arrested? why would she wink though.. maybe she winked just so you would stay and THEN she’d get you arrested???

your mind ran wild as you quickly reached for the exit of the arena, trying not to get caught by whoever was out to get you, but before you could, you felt a hand on your shoulder.

fuck.

“excuse me, ms. minatozaki is requesting to see you, i believe.”

trying not to hide your defeat and fear of what could possibly happen, you nodded. “yup. lead the way!” you said, over enthusiastically. he motioned for you to follow him and he took you backstage, where, surprisingly, no other members were present. just her. you unintentionally gulp as the staff leaves you two alone.

god she’s literally staring you down. you would’ve been excited about being so close to her in person but the situation right now was kinda preventing that, you fidgeted with your hands. right as she was about to speak,

“are you gonna get me arrested? look, it was a silly little joke i had no intentions of making you uncomfortable and i’m honestly really sorry if i di-“

“relax, baby” she interrupted, “i found it endearing. i mean, it’s not like you’re a creepy old man, are you?” she slightly tilted her head as she asked the question.

you hesitantly shook your head. wait, did she just call you baby?? you felt that you could just die right then and there.

“so, why are you panicking? if i was trying to get you arrested, i wouldn’t be smiling and winking at you all show, would i now, cutie?”

your jaw slightly dropped at the amount of pet names that she just kept casually throwing around. does she not know what that can do to someone who’s like. infatuated with her??

“no, you wouldn’t, i don’t think.” you stuttered out. she giggled at you, eyeing you down, her gaze ending up on every single part of your body.

“are you free tonight?” she asked you, an innocent smile plastered on her face.

quite frankly, you were originally planning to go home right after concert, lay on your bed and watch tiktoks for like 5 hours straight but… let’s just say making out with the sana minatozaki on her hotel room’s bed was significantly better than that.

she unfortunately pulled away from you and looked into your eyes as she slightly panted, “what are you into, baby?” she asked you.

not knowing what to respond, you looked around nervously, still not over the fact that you’re about to fuck an idol?? your favorite one, at that. was this even allowed???

“uhm.” you finally responded, “i don’t know.. girls?” you awkwardly chuckled.

fuck, maybe being funny wasn’t the best approach, she looked like she was genuinely asking. you could tell from the drop of her expression that she was getting impatient, she subtly sighed, almost pulling away from you.

which…. you always found it kind of sexy when she got frustrated at her other members, or something of the sorts.

biting back a shy smile, you kept staring at her. then, as if something in her mind clicked, something in her eyes sparkled and she smirked.

“oh… i see where this is going.” she playfully smirked, getting closer to you again as if she could feel your face growing hotter by the second. “you’re into people treating you like garbage, aren’t you?”

you hesitated, but you ended up silently nodding. was she psychic??

“oh how cute. so if i were to fuck you roughly as i called you names, you’d like that, hm?”

you froze, then turned your head to look at anything that wasn’t her face. god that sounded so hot.

“answer, you bitch.” she grabbed you by the jaw and made you look at her, her eyes piercing through you. you swore that you could’ve came right then and there, but you obviously had and wanted to keep this going.

“y-yes sana, i’d like that. alot.” you squirmed under her, her eyes still not leaving yours. she scoffed.

“i knew you were a complete slut as soon as i saw you.” she kissed your neck, earning a relieved sigh from you as she unbuttons your shirt. “also,” she added,

“it’s ms. sana, got it?”

next thing you knew, she was violently dicking you down from behind with her strap. wait, why did she even bring it along with her on tour? whatever, that didn’t even matter right now, what mattered was that your twice bias was literally inside you and that you felt like you could squirt just from that. an exaggeration, but she was just that good at fucking you.

“fuckfuckfuck sana right there..” you moaned out, throwing your head down on the pillow before you stammered nervously, “i-i mean, ms. sana!”

in response, “aren’t you a cute thing. this is the fourth time you’ve made that mistake. does it feel that good?” you heard her giggle. okay, she didn’t sound mad, but you still needed to be careful next ti-

before you could even finish that thought, though, you felt her hand smack one of your cheeks with full force, making you flinch and unintentionally whimper at the impact. fuck, that hurt.

“apologize.” she coldly ordered you, her pace getting faster by the second, causing you to lose your breath. recollecting your thoughts, you let out a nervous “i’m s-sorry ms. sana fuck i’m sorry..”

“god.. look at you. ass up for a girl you barely even fucking know.” she hummed, clearly amused by all of this, amused by how easily you gave in. she gently scratched and pet your head as she would a dog, still roughly pounding you from the back. “are you stupid or just a horny bitch?” she mockingly giggles.

“that’s just what you are, isn’t it? a little bitch in heat. hm?”

if her purpose was to fill you with shame, then it was very much working. you felt humiliated. when you really thought about it like that, you are literally letting a stranger fuck you. not only that, but you went to her hotel room. maybe she was right, maybe you are just a whore.

“come on baby, say it. admit how much of a slut you are.” she pulled on your hair, forcing you to hold yourself up. you whimpered and moaned loudly at the sensations, trying your hardest to form a correct sentence, “yes ms. sana i’m a s-slut! fuckfuck i’m a slut for you p-pleaseee fuck me harder..”

your dignity and self-respect now long gone, your only priority was cumming. she probably caught onto that quickly, though, since she immediately started changing her pace, going at a much slower speed, much to your despair. you whined. “such a good bitch for mommy. are you getting close?” she asked.

mommy?? oh this woman wanted you dead. her words and the noises coming out of her contributing in making it harder for you to keep your composure. god you were a mess, being undone like this, being used like this, being at someone’s mercy, sana’s mercy. it turned you on so much.

moaning out consecutive mhms in response to sana’s question, she hummed, grabbing your waist. then, unexpectedly, she rams into you, her strap fucking in and out of you, covered in your slick. “then we’ll cum together, okay?” she orders, panting. you eagerly nod, head pressed into the pillow.

you feel your orgasm building up, your noises getting higher and louder. she quickly started shamelessly moaning louder too, good girls and just like thats escaping her mouth.

it didn’t take long before her breathing stopped for a moment, pulling on your hair with such a force. she moaned out your name, and that’s when your own mind blanked. that feeling in your lower stomach was now replaced with complete euphoria, and it was amplified by the fact that you knew it was caused by sana. you didn’t care about how loud you were being, you didn’t care about the people next door, you wanted them to know who was making you feel this good.

as you both came down from your high, you felt her pull out. it took you some time to actually sit up, but your legs weren’t exactly in the best state right now.

“do you do this to every fan you meet?” you ask her, laying down on your side, sounding kinda muffled due to your head still being in the pillow.

“hm, no. i’ve never done this before. i guess it was something about you.” she said, smiling as she was tying her hair and then eventually taking the strap off of her, setting it down on the nightstand.

then, you remembered your so called delusions. maybe they weren’t entirely delusions after all!

you took your bag, all dressed up and ready to leave the hotel room, she on the other hand, stayed naked, because that’s apparently how she sleeps. you say your goodbyes very obviously eyeing her bare body and head to leave, but she stops you.

“here’s my number, i’ll text you and eventually let you know when we come back here.” she winks at you, then sends you on your way.

well! getting dicked down by sana minatozaki wasn’t exactly on your bucket list this year, but it was certainly very welcomed, considering you went back home giggling to yourself and did your own thing when you arrived home, still thinking about all of it..

from now on, you could never allow yourself to miss the upcoming tours.

#sana minatozaki #twice smut #kpop smut #kpop gg #female reader #smut #sana x reader #sana x female reader #sana minatozaki x female reader #twice sana #twice

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