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frannyzooey · 1 month

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On The Green: 2

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: M (corpses, harvesting violence) will be E in later chapters ❤️

a/n: thank you endlessly to @the-scandalorian who lent me her big beautiful beta brain, to @bageldaddy who made me blush with pride and to @the-ginger-hedge-witch who soothed my Ezra nerves by checking this dialogue like the queen she is ❤️

Series Masterlist

—

You know he’s waiting for you to speak, but you…can’t.

He takes his helmet off, and you can see his features more clearly. His skin has a ruddy look to it, like it’s been days since he’s last bathed or eaten well, or gotten a decent sleep. He looks older, more weary without the reflective dome hiding the finer lines of his tired features – but still, no less intimidating.

He looks rougher, his sharp eyes darker and more assessing.

Your eyes make a slow circuit between his hand, which still loosely holds a weapon, and his dead partner.

There is no deal to be made here. Not for you, and you know it.

“Kevva waits, girl.” The sharp snap of his words brings your attention back to his face. He looks impatient. “You ready to talk about that deal?”

You swallow against the dryness in your throat, trying hard to fight against the sinking feeling in your chest. “What do you want.”

It comes out more of a defeated statement than a question, and he studies you for a moment.

“To be perfectly candid, I am in need of transit.”

You stare at him blankly, and he sighs with impatience.

“I want your ship,” he states plainly. “However, I am not suggesting to leave you stranded if that’s what you’re thinking. As I find myself lacking….” He glances over at his dead partner for a moment. “I am generously proposing we join forces. Protection, for transport.”

“Protection?” you spit. “You gonna protect me as a partner like you did him?”

“He needed no protection, I can assure you that,” he huffs wryly. “But you?” He pauses in his speech, narrowing his gaze. “What is your plan here, anyway?”

Trying to appear like you have one, you steady your voice. “I’m here to dig.”

He laughs as if your statement is absurd. “I find myself disinclined to believe that, but let’s pretend for a moment that is the case. You dig. What then?”

“I’ll repair my ship and be on my way. Home, with something to sell when I get back.”

“And who is going to help you repair your ship?” he mocks. “You know how to do that too?” His eyes drift to your father’s lifeless form. “Seems your partner is out of commission. I think perhaps he was the mechanic?”

“He wasn’t my partner, I told you.” The corner he’s got you backed in displays plainly on your face. You shift your jaw, looking away. “I’ll find someone to help me. Someone –”

“A girl like you?” he interrupts, raising his eyebrows. “You wander into a camp of fringely mercs, raw, at the end of their tour, what happens? You appeal to their sympathies?” He shakes his head. “They have none. They are ruthless profiteers. You must have something to offer or they will find something to take from you.”

The emphasis he puts on the last few words makes his implication clear, and panic creeps into your limbs.

“We’re in the same trough, you and I. Can’t say I was pleased to find your mare all black and cockways as she was supposed to be my redemption as well,” he muses, looking around at the poor state of the pod. “But I know how to fix her up. I can help you.”

He seems sincere enough in his offer, but everything he’s done thus far shows you his supposed sincerity means absolutely nothing.

“I want someone else.” A childish statement, but the truth.

“Well I want a lot of things too, little bird.” He looks almost regretful for a moment, before leveling you with his gaze. ”Starting with your ship.”

Your mind still stuck on what he said about the other mercs on this planet, you wonder what’s stopping him from doing the same.

“They will find something to take from you.”

Will he?

You could try to go it alone, but your first fucking hour alone on this planet has been nightmare enough to dissuade you from that course of action. If he doesn’t kill you to get this ship, the next person will. If he found you, others will, too.

You think, buying yourself some time.

“It’s clear you don’t belong here, little bird. I’m your safest route home,” he argues. “That is the goal, right?”

You bring your eyes back to him, wary and he seems to recognize something in your expression. When he slowly steps forward like he’s approaching a wild animal, you scoot back.

“Hey,” his tone softens. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re no threat to me, a fragile little thing like you. Anyone else would have killed you outright by now, I promise you that. You have a functioning ship – a rarity in these parts. I can help you protect it.”

“Only because you want to use it,” you sneer, and the edge of his lips lift.

“Of course,” he replies. “I’m not foolish enough to offer my services for nothing. I promise you no harm if you promise me the same.”

“You killed your partner. Just now, right in front of me. What’s stopping you from doing the same to me?”

“I could have killed you a thousand different ways by now.” His voice slips into something lower, menacing yet truthful. “Like I said, you’re no threat to me. Besides, I think your ship would be better piloted by two, am I right?”

Seeing no way out, you deflate.

And nod.

“I need to hear you say it, little bird,” he tilts his head with a light scold.

You glare up at him. “Yes. I accept.”

“Excellent!” he says, clapping his hands together, the sound making you jump. “First things first. Let’s move these bodies.”

The bodies.

Forgetting all about your new deal with a murderer, your stomach drops at the reminder of moving your dad’s body.

“What’s your name, by the way?” The stranger grunts with exertion, lifting his partner’s feet to drag his body into a prone position. Crouching, he begins to pat the dead man’s pockets down.

He’s callous about it, perfunctory. Not gentle in the slightest which makes sense since the man is dead, but still, there is something about the deft way he’s going through everything he had on him that makes it known that this is not the first time he’s done this. Not by a long shot. You wonder if it’s just from his experience on this planet, or an indicator of something larger.

“Mine’s Ezra, if you were wondering.” He gives a teasing glance, making note of your rudeness.

When you don’t offer it, he merely shrugs. “S’okay if you don’t wanna tell me. I understand your apprehension. But I’ll have to call you something.” He seems to ponder for a moment, placing loose items he’s deemed useful in a pile by the man’s hip. “Since you came down from out of the sky, I would say “Birdie” is a suitable choice.”

You pull a face he doesn’t see, and then he’s moving the belongings to the side, making a clear path to the door of the pod. When his eyes shift to rest on your dad’s body, a sudden urge flares within you to stop him.

“He got anything useful on him?” Ezra’s chin jerks towards it.

On instinct, you follow his gaze, immediately regretting it. You turn away in revulsion, the pooled blood a dark, congealed mass that sticks in your vision. Closing your eyes, you shake your head with a tight movement. “I don’t think he had anything on him besides his, uh…drops. Everything else is here in the pod.”

If he wonders what you mean by “drops,” he doesn’t ask. Instead, he approaches the body and glancing back, frowns at your hesitant expression.

“Look. You don’t—” he sighs, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His voice lowers. “I’ll need your help with the big guy, but I can do this one by myself.”

“No,” you protest, forcing yourself to move forward. You can still taste bile, sharp on your tongue. “I should be the one—”

He puts his hand on your arm, shaking his head. “No,” he says kindly, but firm. “You shouldn’t be. A girl shouldn’t have to put her own father in the ground.” He steps around you gently. “Tell you what. Why don’t you head outside and keep watch, little bird. Let me know if you see anyone coming. Make no mistake, there will be scavengers looking for the same opportunity I was, and we’ve got to protect our only means of escaping this planet.”

He gathers your helmet to place in your hands, checking your filters are connected and charged.

In your hurry to get out of the pod and away from the body, you’re already sealing your helmet into place when he snatches the thrower off the floor.

“Hey,” he calls out sharply, just as you’re about to step out of the hatch. He thrusts the weapon towards you. “Don’t forget your thrower. Armed. Always armed here. Understood?” His gaze holds yours in weighted significance.

You nod, taking it from his outstretched hand. “Okay.”

Opening the hatch, you step outside for the first time.

Everything is green. The brush, the trees, the sky–all varying shades of the color. Dust floats through the air; aimless, toxic, suffocating. You wonder how long you would last if you took your helmet off. Studying the lush, towering trees, your eyes follow the paths of thick vines that both climb up the trunks and spill over the dark soil, coming to rest on the soft dirt that your boots sink into. You lift your foot and the imprint you leave behind is as clear as the two sets that lead from the edge of the forest to your pod.

The footprints circle the pod, and your stomach lurches at the thought that they were circling without you even knowing.

Resolutely keeping your back towards the ramp, you tighten your grip on your thrower and use the moment to take stock of your situation. Your father told you a couple of things about this planet: the air is toxic, the population is non-existent, and the main reason anyone comes is for the aurelac. An amber colored gem found within the bowels of pit sites, the price it can fetch is significant. His drops clutched tightly in his hand, he told you of a neglected site filled with treasure—a rumor, the Queen’s Lair–his eyes wild and clouded with liquid that made them shine with foolish hope.

That’s it, though. No map left behind, no coordinates. No solid confirmation it even exists. He only brought you along because it would be dangerous to leave you completely orphaned for however long it took him, and to take advantage of your (limited) skills as a co-pilot.

When you hear a heavy slide and a grunt behind you, you keep your eyes on the forest, scanning the trees.

Nothing to offer the man who has offered you partnership, you wonder how long it’s going to take him to figure out you’re of no value. Completely useless, better off dead and out of the way. Your mind scrambles for leverage, and you’re still thinking when you feel a tap on the shoulder.

Swinging around, you point your thrower – directly at Ezra’s chest.

His hands fly up in surrender.

“Steady now. It’s just me.”

He must have connected your comlinks because you can hear his words, low and slightly modulated through your helmet. Lowering your weapon and assuming he’s going to take it from you, you offer it up, but he waves it away, resting his hand on a pistol strapped to his hip.

“Good to see you’re quick on the draw,” he smirks. He jerks his head towards the pod. “I need your help with the other one now.”

You glance over his shoulder towards the woods, trying to find a sign of your father’s body and his voice snaps your attention back to him.

“Hey. Don’t…” he pauses. “Don’t. Say your goodbyes to the Green, girl, but don’t go lookin’. You don’t need to see that anymore.”

Surprised by the consideration in his statement, you follow him up the ramp. Inside the pod, he lifts under his former partner's arms.

“Grab the feet – go ahead and push, while I pull.”

It takes ages getting the massive, limp body down and out, but eventually it’s rolled down the ramp with a thud. Ezra’s breathing sounds loud, and he takes a moment to catch his breath.

“What you want to do is cover the body with rocks. Try to hide it, so as to not attract any attention. The locals, they –” he grunts, dragging the man towards the brush, “—they leave bodies out in the open, as part of their ritual to honor the memory but I think it’s rather–” he shoves the man down a slope, letting gravity do the work for him, “uncouth.”

Slowly descending down the slant of dirt, you follow behind him. Not used to an explanation following orders, you listen closely to his words. He gives you more context for his decisions than your father ever did, and you pocket every piece of information, eager for it all. Anything to help your survival in this place.

With both your heads bent in task, he breaks the silence after a few moments. “What was your father here to harvest?”

Lifting a rock from the ground, you toss it in the general direction of the body. “Gems.”

Ezra huffs a laugh. “Most gems are long gone. Discovered and harvested during the rush.” He looks over at you from the corner of his eye. “Got any information on where he was hoping to find unfound riches?”

“If most gems have been harvested, what are you doing here?”

He laughs in delight. “Rapport, how I’ve missed it.”

You take note of the way he side steps your question. “He didn’t tell me.”

“What did he tell you about this place?”

Easy to talk to, charming and affable, you can see how easily he would wheedle information out of others. Unsure how much you should really be confiding in him, you decide less is better for now.

“He didn’t tell me anything. Just that we were going to come here to dig – or rather, he was.”

“Nothing?” he asks, surprised. “He led you here, unprepared?”

You say nothing, and his expression turns more solemn. He shakes his head. “Foolish, keeping you in the dark like that. My own partner was more of a utility. Seems like your father treated you the same way.”

His statement hurts, though you try not to let it show. You shrug instead, watching your steps as you pick through the rocks.

He gives you time to reply, and when you offer nothing up, he continues. “Did you ever want to learn how to dig? Harvest gems?”

You don’t think you’ve ever been asked that question, and when you look up at him to find him looking at the ground, you can hear the smile he has on his face through the commlink when you don’t answer. He continues, “I stumped you, didn’t I.”

“I don’t…” you flounder. You’ve always had a distaste for the profession, spending your life around the seedy people who do it. However, it seems rude to say that outright to his face. “I’ve never really thought about it. It would be useful to learn, I guess.”

“Maybe,” he says. “Depends on what you want from this life. It’s a big world out there, Birdie. If you could have your pick, what would you do?”

“Go home.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and though it’s such a small thing to ask in such an endless universe, he just nods like he understands.

–

The bodies taken care of, he leads you back to the pod and tells you to wait there for him. He’s got a camp close by – a tent, filled with his belongings – and while he’s gone collecting it, you clean the disorganized mess inside the pod.

Go home. You don’t even know why you said that, there isn’t much of a home to go home to. This pod has been more of a home than anything else has; the only constant in your transient life. What you meant was some place that felt like a home. A comforting place, where you felt safe and wanted and cared for. The place itself didn’t really matter, more the feeling it represented. You had yet to find it, but you knew it wasn’t here.

The metal cabinets that line the walls had burst open upon impact, so you take your time methodically putting everything right. Medical supplies, vac packs of food, your father’s harvesting tools. His case, with his initials stamped on it. His supply of chemicals, his various scalpels unceremoniously dumped onto the floor. You snap them carefully back into their case, and put them away.

Then your things: your bedding, your sparse collection of clothing, your journal. Wrapping the bound book in a shirt, you tuck it into your pillowcase, hiding it. Your headphones appear undamaged, and you test them with a couple of the cassettes that lay scattered across the floor. The music flows through them uninterrupted, and for the first time today, you feel a small sliver of relief.

You find his drops underneath his chair.

The tiny brown vial with the stopper you’ve seen him hover above his eye a million times, you aren’t ready for the resentment and rage you feel as you hold it in your palm. You can’t remember a time when your father didn’t have them on him. Slices of time flash through your mind: the sight of his back as he left you for days on end, the slow, syrupy drag of his words when he mumbled after putting the drops in, the feverish need in his eyes as he slipped the bottle from his pocket to calm the trembling in his hands – right before an emergency sensor went off in the pod and everything went to hell.

The urge to crush it underneath your boot or take it outside and smash it against a tree flares bright, and a scream builds at the base of your throat.

In your mind, you let it out. In real life, you tuck the bottle into a cabinet and shut the door.

A signal agreed upon when he left, you know Ezra is back when he knocks rhythmically before entering. Busy scrubbing the dash clean, you’re going over the blood spots for the third time. You can’t see them anymore, but you still feel them there.

“Got everything,” he states, removing his helmet. Tossing it on the ground, he rakes his fingers through his sweat damp curls with a sigh. “Quite the load to carry back. I’ll need space within your vessel to store my things.”

He steps towards a cabinet, and you stand, alarmed.

“Wait. You’re staying in here? With me? I thought you said you have a tent.”

He ignores the way your voice gets higher and tighter with every word, opening a door to peer inside. “I do, but it would be foolish to separate. If you’re opposed to discomfort, then you never had any business being on the Green, girl.”

It wasn’t my choice, you want to scream at him, but you hold your tongue.

“Can’t you sleep outside in front of the hatch? To make sure no one gets in?”

He shakes his head, opening another cabinet. He rifles through your medical supplies, impressed. “This beauty really is fully stocked, isn’t she? No wonder I thought she’d be my redemption. Riches beyond belief hidden within her unassuming depths.”

He’s murmuring more to himself than anyone, and annoyance begins to simmer at the careless way he’s putting your freshly organized things back. You’re just about to repeat yourself when he closes the door and turns to you.

“It won’t do to sleep outside. I need to protect this pod just as much as I need to watch over you.”

He opens another cabinet, and your cassettes spill out with a slide.

“What are these?” he asks, already bending to pick one up.

“Don’t worry about it.” Snatching it from his hand, you kneel down to gather them up. Huffing with frustration, you cram them back into their storage and shut the door quickly.

He watches it all, his jaw shifting in thought.

“Look,” he ventures. “I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s gonna be a long couple of months if you don’t trust me.”

You say nothing, and he sighs.

“A good partnership is only made so by candid discourse.”

He’s right. You know he’s right, and yet you don’t have it in you to acknowledge it out loud. How he expects you trust him you truly don’t know, and yet in the hours since you’ve met him, he has shown you kindness. A partnership offer when you don’t deserve it, protection against his former partner, burying your father for you. Whether that kindness is real or a ruse to have you lower your defenses, you don’t know.

Either way, you don’t really have a choice.

“There are a couple of spare storage bins over there,” you gesture at the corner, defeated. “You can put your things in there.”

“My sincerest thanks,” he replies with a slip of sarcasm, and turning back to your cleaning, you roll your eyes.

–

“I need to protect this pod just as much as I need to watch over you.”

The words repeat on a loop in your mind; your body shifting on the stiff cot. His presence in the small space feels foreign, your body hyper aware of it. You’ve never slept in this pod with anyone but your father.

Your father.

You wait for the grief to come, but when it doesn’t, you blame shock. The alternative would be to think about how you feel nothing, which, what kind of a daughter loses her father and feels nothing? Tendrils of shame seep through your thoughts, and you roll away from Ezra as if he can see into your mind. Your back facing him, you try to shut him out, focusing instead on the moon outside the window.

It’s full, high and clear above the horizon, suspended in the inky sky. Your eyes study the craters carved into the surface, and you take slow and steady breaths out, mimicking sleep. You wish you could slip your headphones on and drown out the tension that fills the small space, but you don’t want to leave yourself vulnerable like that.

You hear him shuffle behind you, and your shoulders brace themselves with tension – but when he doesn’t make any other sound, you go back to watching the floating dust.

Isolated, alone. No different than any of the other thousands of nights you’ve spent staring out at the moon while waiting for your father to come home. The weight of your situation compresses the air in your lungs, and you feel the sharp, hot sting of tears behind your eyes. Squeezing them shut, you will them away.

You won’t cry in here with him. You won’t.

Both resentfully frustrated with his presence and deep down, grateful for it, you cross your arms tight across your chest and squeeze. Pouring all your emotions into the pocket of your chest, you squeeze and you squeeze, soothing yourself.

He shuffles around quietly behind you, getting comfortable on his own cot and you’re thinking it’s going to be a long night just before the weight of the day presses upon your eyelids.

They flutter shut, and you fall into a dreamless sleep.

#ezra #ezra prospect #ezra prospect/you #ezra prospect/reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x reader

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vintagevixyxol · 6 months

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An alphabet of old language in the “Dark rise” by C.S.Pacat

Or something like this…

Disclaimer: I am new in this fandom, so I will be really sorry if the same work already exists. I did not want to duplicate someone`s work. Also, please, correct me if I miss something or make mistakes!

And remember: it`s just a theory.

"There is no sense in strange inscriptions", I thought, when I saw it in books for the first time. However, last evening I decided to compare translations with pictures in the book and found out that this language was not as hard for reading as I considered. I`d like to share my ideas about this topic and, if it would be interesting, to discuss some moments, which I can`t explain right now.

Some rules:

The main axiom is that one letter in English is one letter in this language.

“Tails” of vowels are pointing upward in every case.

“Tails” of consonants are pointing downward in most situations. (not always)

All letters add up in a line. (Part of the ship, part of the crew).

A dash line helps with selecting letters and words, but not always.

Full analysis will be only about the first example.

The key: “Rassalon the First Lion”. (Chapter 10)

This phrase is the best start for a work, because there are a plenty of repeating letters in words. Аll what I need is to find similar elements and to highlight them different colors.

Step 1 — selecting similar letters

"Rassalon..." and other words

We have double S in “RaSSalon”, so it is easy to notice similar details in the beginning. S also in the “FirSt”.

Double S are between two A, so they might stand in the edges.

R is left alone in the beginning, but it will be in “FiRst”.

L — "Lion"

O—"LiOn"

N — “LioN”

"...the First Lion"

T — in “The” and “FirsT”

i — in “First” and “Lion”

!(why “i” is small I will explain later)!

Step 2 — non-repeating letters

New letters: H, e (!!) and F.

An analysis of other phrases

“He is coming” (Chapter 11)

New letters: C, M and G.

And "e", but I will tell about it later.

“I cannot return when I am called to fight So I will have a child” (Chapter 2)

New letters: U, W, D, V and I(!)

I and i are different. Why? In my opinion, it might be because “I” is a pronoun in this case.

“Enter only those who can” (Chapter 15)

New letters: Y, E, e.

E and e are different. Perhaps, it is because “E” in the beginning?

“The horn all seek and never find” (Chapter 15)

New letter: K.

The conclusion

the illustration of the alphabet

I`m very grateful to my sister, who painted all illustrations for my article.

The investigation amused me a lot even if the alphabet is incomplete. Information isn`t enough at this moment, so I hope the second part of book will give new letters and new rules of old language. This is the new reason why I am exited of waiting for the “Dark heir”. I hope, dear reader, you share my delight of this discover.

For enthusiasts I`ll leave examples, which I created myself, below.

For others — thanks a lot for your attention!

My examples for translations :)

The first example for practice

The second example for practice

The third example for practice

One hilarious fact, before I end

English is not my native language, so I read “Dark rise” in the first time in my language. And I have two different paper editions 2021 and 2022 years.

I decided to compare pictures in books and…

There are SAME ILLUSTRATIONS every time, when there must be inscriptions in old language. If there is a short phrase, they cut THIS ILLUSTRATION and left only the begining of it. In other words, it is one illustration throughout two books.

I could understand if they did it only in the edition by 2021 year, but they did not! As well it doesn`t fit in my theory, because most of letters are different than previous ones.

Now I have some questions for other fans:

Was this illustration in the first edition?

Do you meet it in other translations? (or is it the joke of my translation?)

What is the key, if somebody know?

I tried to translate it as I did it before, but it was the mess. Therefore, I am open to new ideas.

(it is a scan from my paper book)

Thanks for reading! P.S. If you decide to share my work, please specify my authorship.

#dark rise #c s pacat #books

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petitmonde · 1 year

Text

Meet ugly

A set of dialogue prompts and scenarios for meet ugly, because who doesn't need chaos in their lives? Send in a prompt and/or scenario + a ship. Feel free to share and use.

I'd like to thank @missjanjie and @sweetlikesunflowersandhoney for their help.

Dialogue prompts

1. "Is that my car?"

2. "Oh, so that was you?"

3. "Please never contact me again"

4. "You shouldn't be in here"

5. "Who the hell are you?"

6. "So listen, I met the worst bitch ever on my way to work"

7. "Can you shut up? At least for ten minutes"

8. "You could say sorry"

9. "Just don't puke on my carpet"

10. "I don't even know you"

11. "I didn't ask for your life story"

12. "I didn't sign up for this"

13. "Okay, rule number one, don't talk to me"

14. "That fucking hurt"

15. "Did your parents hate you when they named you that?"

16. "That is the ugliest dress I've ever seen"

17. "I think I just spilled coffee all over our new boss"

18. "I'm pretty sure my date is hitting on your date"

19. "Wait, this isn't my apartment?"

20. "If you kick my seat one more time, I'm cutting off your legs."

21. "Get out"

22. "Well here's the thing, I don't care"

23. "I'm going to call the cops"

24. "It's loaded"

25. "Shit, I thought you weren't home"

26. "It's been six months and you still don't know their name?"

27. "I think you got the wrong number"

28. "Put your clothes back on"

29. "What the hell is wrong with you? Don't answer that, I already know"

30. "When I see that bitch again"

31. "I don't have a death wish"

32. "I am not getting in that car with you"

33. "Why does this kind of thing always happen to me?"

34. "Okay, for the last fucking time"

35. "Didn't you hear me?"

36. "Get a grip, get a life and get over it"

37. "I am not going to entertain drama, chaos, confusion and madness"

38. "I'm not bothered, not at all"

39. "I knew she was a clown from the jump"

40. "I'm not finished talking to you"

41. "I pity you for the face that you have"

42. "Here, let me buy you a new one"

43. "I don't want it anymore"

44. "You're getting blood all over me"

45. "You will be hearing from my lawyer"

46. "Well, you can go fuck yourself"

47. "Did you ever work in porn?"

48. "Who invited you?"

49. "This sounds like a scam"

50. "$800? I don't have that kind of money"

Scenarios

A. A and B have an appointment at the same clinic after their partner cheated on them, without knowing the other person is their side piece.

B. A server spills a milkshake on a customer's fancy new shirt, and is entirely unapologetic about it.

C. A and B match on Tinder and they quickly realise the other person is insane and unmatch. They then meet again on a blind date.

D. They've waged a passive aggressive war against eachother for years for being 'that annoying neighbour' by leaving notes in the laundry room without actually having met.

E. They're both hospitalised in the same room, and absolutely everything their new roommate does is annoying. And their family and friends are even worse.

F. It's the worst day ever already, and in comes an idiot who thinks it's cute to be overly friendly.

G. A is gleefully eating something B had been looking forward to all week – and it was the last one!

H. A stole B's cat accidentally, but now it's been over a year, so whose cat is it really.

I. A suddenly having to become a babysitter for a very drunk B, a complete stranger.

J. A and B have been tricked into babysitting the same pair of chaotic twins.

K. A finds B wildly attractive, and has had a crush on them for a good while, however during their first conversation, A blanks and insults B.

L. Just your ordinary everyday traffic accident between a car and a bike.

M. A drunkenly texts B, thinking they're A's ex, and now B won't stop teasing them about it.

N. On a skiing trip, A walks into what they think is their own lodge, only to find that the bed they're sleeping in belongs to B, who very much doesn't appreciate waking up to being spooned by a stranger.

O. A is the sole reason they're desperately trying to survive an avalanche.

P. A's dog messes up B's date, but is refusing to pay for a new pair of pants.

Q. A's sibling fucks over B, and when B comes over to slap some sense into them, they end up slapping A.

R. A gets an angry phone call from B, cussing out someone with a name that's similar to theirs. At first they wanted to hang up, but now A just really wants to hear how that person fucked up.

S. A is a stand-in for B's partner in a reality TV show, and is doing their damnedest at messing them up since B was dismissive of them when they met. Revenge isn't always cold, bitch.

T. They're sharing an Uber from a club, and holy shit, A is bleeding all over the place, so B has no option but to help to avoid paying a cleaning fee.

U. A works at an amusement park as a mascot in a suit. B lives to torment the mascots, and now that there aren't kids around, A is ready to let them have it.

V. A is running late, and only notices their shirt is inside out in the elevator. They try to put it on right but they get stuck with their shirt half off. B is the shocked neighbour who finds A like that.

W. A has brought in flowers to work to welcome the new hire, who happens to be extremely allergic to said flowers.

X. Someone keeps stealing A's food from the fridge, and having had enough, A poisons their food with an inordinate amount of chili peppers. Now to wait for the screams of B come lunchtime.

Y. If A doesn't shut up about their ex anytime soon, B is going to blow a gasket and tell them to get a life. They're in public for fucks sake, have your mental breakdown somewhere else.

Z. A has talked mad shit about B at length, not realising they'd be their next opponent in their next match. Now it's personal.

#prompt list #writing #meet ugly #writerblr #dialogue prompts

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thedragonagelesbian · 10 months

Note

about your ship asks may i request merribela, merrihawkebela even

Yes!!!!! Always!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! After seradaar, merribela & merrihawkebela were among the first f/f ships i glommed on to as a newly self-aware sapphic, and they are IMMENSELY dear to me

isabela is. so much nicer to merrill than literally any other companion in the game, and she's nice without being condescending about it, constantly recognizing and affirming that merrill is her own person who is fully capable of making her own decisions.

something that really struck me on my most recent da2 playthrough was how differently merrill responds to isabela versus other companions during 'a new path'. anders, for example, insults her and tells her that she needs to stop. merrill fires back with one of the best retorts to him in the entire game that lances straight to the heart of his hypocrisy ("In that case, I'll head back to Kirkwall and throw [the Eluvian] away. Right after you abandon the plight of the Circle mages").

but when isabela gently asks her "are you sure you want to do this, kitten?" merrill admits: "not even a tiny bit." there's such a profound level of trust and care in that little exchange, because so many people in merrill's life are so damn set on telling her what she should be doing rather than... asking. and checking in. and making sure she also wants to be heading down this path.

meanwhile, isabela is so immensely and instantly sweet to/on merrill, and it's adorable, everything from the cards scene to calling her kitten to "Because you have a good heart, and you deserve better." ???????????? s c r e a m i n g isabela is so fucking protective, especially of other women, and she can try to hide it and tell herself that she's a no good heartless scoundrel, but we all see it.

i am sure to have more merrihawkebela thoughts when i get around to a new playthrough with belladonna hawke, party girl lesbian blood mage extraordinaire, but one final idea for now is how much of belladonna and merrill's relationship is built on their like... mutual capacity to not underestimate each other. a lot of belladonna's character arc hinges on pity and condescension being really shitty ways to try to help someone recover. that merrill doesn't see her as a walking disaster, the failed scion of house amell arriving stillborn in her apotheosis, but rather extends to her the same compassion and competency and capacity for agency and decision-making that merrill never received in clan sabrae........................................ yeah.

#thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu anon #belladonna hawke #(i miss her smmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm)

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remnants-rps · 1 year

Text

it's me, hi.

a b o u t

alias: r.

pronouns: she/her.

timezone: pst.

age: 21+

obviously, i am older than a lot of people in the community. that being said, i was an avid rper back in the early 2010's through about 2016. i took a long hiatus to finish college, and really truly lost inspo after graduating. i'm back now, though, hehe.

(read guidelines & rp info under the cut)

g u i d e l i n e s

i can't stress enough that i am older than a lot of people in the community lol. because of that, i have a hard rule of not rping with anyone younger than 21.

i am in pst. i work full time, but have flexibility in my availability with my job, so my responses could range anywhere from 10am-7pm pst.

while i have flexibility in my availability, i would like to make it clear that i function off of inspo. this means, i may not always reply right away. it might also mean i respond in a few minutes. and i extend this method to my writing partners. writing with me means riding on the no stress express.

i am not in the business of writing smut (no matter the age of my writing partner). i like to look at it as giving my spicy writing a rating of pg-13. i'm totally fine alluding to those scenes, but i will definitely 'cut to black' after anything remotely close to second base. on this same vein, i will not write incest, either.

_ * _ * _ * _ *_ * _ *_ * _ *_ * _ *_ * _ *_ * _ *_ * _ *_ * _ *_ * _ *_ * _ *_ * _

r p i n g

I prefer rping on discord (it's less of a hassle than creating tumblr accounts), and use tupperbox for my characters.

my favorite things in the world are mumus. i love creating little circles of characters that all know/know of each other.

i only write oc x oc. you won't find any canon/fandom characters here.

i am comfy writing m or f, but require that my partner match 1:1 for every male i play. this might be dated, but it goes a long way in making me feel like i am not being used for my males lol.

i prefer m x f or f x f ships, if our plot is relationship based.

i write in third person/past tense, but have no issue writing with different tenses so long as it's third person.

my writing tends to be on the longer side (as much as i try to keep things short). that being said, i never expect my writing partner to match my length, and instead encourage them (and myself) to write what feels right to keep the thread going and moving.

i'm open to most plots! here are some of my faves: apartments, covens/supernatural, science-fiction/apocalypse, slice of life, breakups, & basically anything that has the potential for a lot of emo pain lol.

take a look at the fcs i love to play and the fcs i long to play against. these are definitely flexible, and i do a poor job of keeping these updated, so i'm always up to discuss options!

_ * _ * _ * _ *_ * _ *_ * _ *_ * _ *_ * _ *_ * _ *_ * _ *_ * _ *_ * _ *_ * _ *_ * _

all right, that's it for me. hmu if you think we'd vibe based on the above!

#discord rp #indie rp #1x1 plot #1x1 rp #1x1 discord #discord 1x1 #mumu #mumu rp

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mirahuyooo · 2 years

Text

Memento Mei | knj

Memento Mei | Recordatio — Soulmate! AU

— Remembering, to you, meant carrying a great deal of sorrows, but in spite of it all, you will do what you have long sworn to do—never forget.

Word Count: 10,168 (woAH ik) Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader Content/s: FLUFF, drAMa, ANGST, romance, pining, slow burn?? joon is one patient man OwO, flower language, NAMJOONING with NAMJOON h i m s e l f, NAMJOON IS A SWEETHEART, mrs (L/N) ships you two on hARD MODE, past lives both cute and tragic lol, historical inaccuracies with the past lives bc i may like history but my braincells were fizzing out, Soulmate AU, Reincarnation AU

[masterlist] | Part of the [Recordatio Series]

A/N: hi hello this is me channeling my grief of not being able to make it to the concert 😭😭😭 (to those of you who did i hope you guys have fun aND GIVE THE BOYS L O T S OF LOVE YALL 💞💕💞💕💗 ) this certainly took longer than expected but AyEeEE I L O V E this oneee bc I, too, am a slut for dramatics, soulmates, and the flower language ;((( This one got A LOT longer than anticipated too like AAAA and I know the implications of the synopsis and moodboard have made this a little predictable but shHHHHH enjoy reaDING THIS!!!

As the morning breeze blew against his wool coat, Namjoon clutched the bouquet tighter in his hold. Occupied by interviews, practices, and deadlines, it had been months since he had managed to have a chance to visit his past incarnation’s grave at the cemetery. The last flowers must be wilting away by now, he thinks to himself, looking at the fresh ones in his hand. Hope these last longer.

The idol then adjusts the mask on his face to further secure himself from being discovered. Many have raised their brows at the news of his self-established practice, and he’s sure the press would have a field day if they were to find him walking around a quaint cemetery.

It was an odd custom to follow, that’s true—a lot wouldn’t really go on to seek out their past lives that much—but it had been one he decided to keep a few years back, especially since the circumstances allowed him to do so. It was for old time’s sake, after all, and with his tendency to not remember the entirety of the myriad lives he had lived, the sentiments couldn’t be helped.

His feet began to lead him naturally to where he had discovered his grave to be—a cobblestone settled somewhere a little further in. In the midst of his walk, Namjoon recalls the words written onto the slab.

Ahn Jungnam 1951 - 1994 Beloved teacher, father & husband

His last life was a bland plaster wall compared to the vibrant graffiti that is his current lifetime. He had been a humble college professor then, who worked hard to provide for a family he dearly loved. The most excitement he would’ve gotten out of the week was having to entertain his son on a free day. His life was simple and peaceful, though he had lost a battle against cancer in his later years.

That very touch of serenity calms him sometimes, makes him feel ordinary for even just a fleeting second.

Soon, however, the tall man’s steps slowed to a halt as he caught sight of a young woman from afar. She was clad in a tan trench coat, kneeling in front of the very grave he frequented. The cogs in his head began turning as he lost sense of reality whilst thinking to himself.

Is she the one who’s been leaving the other bouquets since last month?

It was most likely so, Namjoon decided. Judging by the flowers the young woman has with her now, Namjoon concluded that it’s the same flowers that he came across before. It’s always the same bouquet of red and purple flowers—different from the white roses that he would occasionally see rotting amidst the grass and stone slab.

But who is she then? Is she my past life’s granddaughter?

His brows furrowed, however, when he remembered the birth of his grandchild, just a few months shy from his previous death. No, that can’t be. I had a grandson. She can’t possibly be a distant relative. No one else really visits his grave as diligently as he does.

As Namjoon whips up a storm of questions in his head, his heart starts racing. His palms began sweating. It only got worse as he noticed the woman pack her things and stand up to leave.

All too suddenly, it felt like the world was on a timer, and his mind was reeling at the thought of the consequences he has yet to know but still dreads nonetheless. Something within him was clawing, begging to know who on Earth this woman was.

Namjoon could hardly believe the way he was reacting. This was getting ridiculous. He hasn’t felt these kinds of nerves since—

Letting his instincts take their reign upon him, his heart continued to hammer against the confines of his rib cages. He got closer and closer, letting his feet lead him towards the woman sitting all by herself at the corner of the diner.

He watched as her eyes skimmed over the dishes that the menu offered. She’s beautiful, he thought to himself, but is she who I think she is?

He had to make sure—he had to.

“Excuse me?” he began, “Miss?”

The tone that accompanied his words was pathetic as they left his lips. Instinctively, he pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose—a nervous tick his peers would often poke fun at. His bread cheeks soon set ablaze at the realization of his current appearance.

Still, as embarrassed as he was, the young woman looked up at him, a soft smile pulling at her soft pink lips. He watched as the recognition sparks in her eyes and the excitement seizes her face.

Air was knocked out of his lungs as she lunged towards him, wrapping her arms tightly around him. Butterflies erupt within him as he feels her nuzzle into his neck.

“You remembered.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen at the memory triggered by his anxious constitution, a soft gasp falling from his lips at the indication of who this woman might be.

What if she’s who I think she is? What if she’s my soulmate?

The chances may be slim, but it can’t be fully impossible. After all, his instincts have almost always been exceptionally good.

Alas, it appears that he’s been too occupied with his thoughts. The distance between them grows, Namjoon realizes—albeit a little bit too late. Without thinking twice, he wills his feet to pick up the pace once more, not paying mind to the bouquet of roses in his hands that was slowly falling apart from his recklessly hasty movements.

Though he didn’t want to make a scene, a part of him wanted to scream from the top of his lungs. Damn it. He’s been waiting for this ever since he got his first trigger back in middle school. Come on, Kim Namjoon. Hurry up, and put those long legs to use.

With his inside voice cheering him on, Namjoon manages to catch the woman by the street. Alas, she had already crossed the other side of the road. All too sudden, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. “Excuse me!” he exclaimed, raising an arm to wave over at her. “Miss!”

A few heads turned from his commotion—fortunately, so did hers.

At that moment, the world was put on a pause, as all else seemed to cease to exist. The drumming in his heart was unmistakably familiar. His instincts have yet to fail him once more.

Even with half of his face covered with a black face mask, his heart swelled as he caught sight of the spark in her eyes—one he knew to be recognition. He watched as her eyes blurred with tears, realizing not too long after that his were doing the same.

He knew with her (e/c) eyes that he was home. This is it. It is her.

The smile that seizes his face beneath the mask was a torture for his cheeks, but his dimples remained present—too overjoyed to be bothered. His eyes had turned into crescents that pushed a few tears to slide down the sides of his face.

She breaks their eye contact to look around her, on both sides of the road, and at the streetlights that count a few seconds down. Taking the chance, she raced against the ticking clock, quickly crossing the road back towards him.

All these years, he’s been stuck with memories of lifetimes he can’t return to.

All these years, he’s waited anxiously to cross paths with his soulmate again.

All these years, she’s finally here.

In the corner of his eyes, Namjoon catches sight of a motorcycle in a hurry, speeding through the otherwise barely occupied street. His eyes widened, his body launching forward as he tried to stop her in her tracks.

“Wait!”

Outcries erupted from the crowd around him, as the collision happened before them. The man driving the motorcycle—a mere delivery boy—skids to a stop, panic setting into his eyes at the sight of the person he just hit. “Oh my God…” he gasped in horror, getting off to check on her. “Ma’am, are you okay?!”

Namjoon rushes towards the woman who, just seconds ago, he realized to be his soulmate, pushing past the crowd gathering. She lies on the pavement, unmoving with eyes slowly blinking as if her entire being was still processing what just happened. Blood was pooling beneath her, and he was unsure where it was coming from.

“Hey, hey,” he softly coos as he kneels beside her, careful not to move her body and worsen any injury by accident. Pulling his mask down, he tries to give a smile, but it’s shaky and betrays any strong upfront he was trying to show. “Don’t close your eyes, darling,” he tells her, “please.”

The woman stares at him, taking him in, but she gives no response. Somewhere, he hears someone calling for an ambulance, and it sends some sort of relief through him. “You hear that?” he urges her to hold on. “Help is coming, so stay awake, hm?”

She manages to crack a small smile, her hand inching closer to hold his. “You…” she tries to speak, but it comes out frail. A tear falls down the corner of her eyes.

Namjoon gently intertwines his fingers with hers as he uses his other hand to wipe at his tears. His heart hammers against his chest as he sees her losing grip on her consciousness. “Shh, don’t speak,” Namjoon hushes her, “don’t waste your energy, okay?”

Still, the woman persists, giving his hand a weak squeeze. Her eyes held so much that she wanted to say, but the two of them knew that time and fate’s grace upon them was uncertain. With the last of her strength, her words came to him in soft relief.

“You remembered…”

Namjoon gapes as her (e/c) eyes fall to a close. “No, no, no,” he utters under his breath, trying to look around for a sign of the ambulance. “Please, please!” he pleads, inching to shake her into waking up, but he knew that would do more harm than good. He collapses on the arm that held her hand, praying for a miracle to any god out there who would listen—even when he doesn’t worship one in the first place.

“Please, wake up.”

All these years, and she slips past his fingertips yet again.

Blooms of red and purple were nestled gently on her lap, the same way it cradled his head on one side. “They’re beautiful,” her voice softly declares, smiling down at her lap both at him and the flowers he stole from some garden on his way to meet her.

“Very,” he grins cheekily in a way that showed the dimples she loved to poke at, though he wasn’t necessarily thinking about the flowers and she knew that well enough to playfully roll her eyes at him.

She looked onto the beach before them, the sea breeze blowing her hair back as the amusement park in the distance continued to be idle background music.

“I love you.”

She couldn’t avoid the gasp that left her lips at the moment of his sudden confession. There on her lap, he pressed a kiss against the palm that rested against his cheek. “Forever.”

“I’d hope so,” she giggles, “I’m your soulmate after all.”

He smiles at that, and so does she. Ah yes, what a fortunate life this is for them to have met so easily and early and have more time to grow old together.

Her fingertips traced the slope of his nose, tapping the point of it at the end before she gave him a smile so full of love and affection.

“I love you, too,” she tells him, “forever.”

Eyes fluttering open, you immediately take note of the ringing in your head. It’s the very blank and static state of it that sends your chest heaving. Your vision blurred as your eyes stings, later wetting your cheeks.

You were crying. Why am I crying?

Looking around you, the bland, white walls of the room didn’t make you feel better at all—especially upon realizing you were hooked to a machine. A hospital—you were at a hospital.

“You’re awake.”

A man you hadn’t noticed before was staring at your figure in disbelief. That incredulous look turns into relief in an instant, as a smile spreads across his face and reveals a set of dimples that stirred something in you.

“You’re awake,” he repeats it, more to himself as he inches closer to your bed. He almost laughs at the news of it, as if he had hardly expected this day to come. Immediately, he flags down a nurse by the door and urges a doctor to come quickly.

You could only look at this man, head whirring to try and gauge him. Though his presence was like warmth on a cold winter’s day, the seasons suddenly turned scorching as you were reminded of your initial panic. The ringing in your head, the unfamiliar environment, and the heavy feeling in your chest for something you’re not entirely knowledgeable of.

“Who are you?”

The moment such words left your lips, you saw the fast flurry of emotions flashing across his eyes—emotions you couldn’t quite process well, but the overall falter to his posture was enough to tell you that what you said had gotten rid of any good in the moment.

It takes a while, but the man composes himself, taking a step back as he rubs the back of his neck like it’d relieve him of the awkward tension. “I’m…” he clears his throat before giving you a small smile, “I’m Kim Namjoon.”

It was then that the doctor came in, followed closely by a nurse or two. “Good morning, miss,” the doctor asks, adjusting his glasses as he gives you an amicable smile. “Do you remember your name? Do you know where you are?”

“I’m…” you began, but the cogs in your head were taking their time. The minutes it took you to respond was concerning to say the least. “(Y/N),” you eventually say, “I’m (Y/N) (L/N)… I’m in a… hospital…”

The rest of the questions go by like a blur in your head. In the end, you were told you were unconscious for about three months, and that, judging by your responses, you were likely suffering from retrograde amnesia after the accident. You could recall basic and old memories—your name, your family’s name, where you grew up, where you graduated—but your head was blank at the aspect of recent events.

You still have so many questions you want to ask—not to the doctors, but to the Kim Namjoon who was there the moment you woke up. You have no recollection of him before, so he must be someone you knew just recently.

Finding it difficult to tear your eyes away from his figure, you find yourself in an absent-minded trance. He was tall—really tall. You may just have to strain your neck a little to look up at him if you were to stand.

“(Y/N)? You alright?”

The deep voice that came out of his lips was a gentle rumble that somehow soothed you but sent little shivers down your spine—pleasant shivers, you think. Alas, your reverie ended when you came to a realization that he was talking to you. “Sorry,” you blink slowly, realizing that he was now just a few feet away from your hospital bed. “I… I was just thinking of something.”

Namjoon nods, thoughtfully. “Do you...” he mulls over his words, “do you have any questions for me? I’d be glad to answer them for you.”

You fiddled with the fabric of the blanket on your fingertips. You needed more details, you decided. “Wh—” you stammer, “what happened? Tell me more about what happened.”

A bitter smile, you notice, comes across his face. “You got hit by a delivery boy on your way to cross the street,” he tells you as he moves to a nearby table that was home to miscellaneous things—bags, snacks, and flowers among other things. “I was the one that admitted you to the hospital,” he tells you plainly, handing over a bag to you. “This is yours.”

The leather material shakes in your hands, your strength still not fully back in your system.

“Your mother’s here, by the way,” Namjoon then tells you, catching you by surprise. “I told her about the incident. She flew here to watch over you while I’m away.”

Though glad to hear your mother was here, the last part of his words piqued your interest. If he had your mother flown here so she could take care of you while he was away, then does that mean he’s come by more than once?

“Who are you to me?” you find yourself asking that aloud. Was he a friend? A colleague? A lover?

You fluster at the thought of the last option, but soon see that Namjoon seems to be red as well. “Well…” he purses his lips, thinking of what to say. “I’m your—”

Just then, the door bursts open. A familiar woman frantically comes through, going first to Namjoon. “Where’s (Y/N)?” she asks him, “I heard she’s awake?”

He must’ve been in the way of her seeing you already awake. Before Namjoon could answer, you spoke up, voice still a bit raspy. “Mom?” you meekly call out. “I’m right here.”

Your mother immediately rushes to your side. You feel her urge to pull you in an embrace, but your current state doesn't allow her to recklessly do so. “Oh, thank goodness,” she sighs in relief as she clings onto your hand. “You’re okay.”

Your mother’s concern ends up being a catalyst to the emotions you’ve been bottling up. "I'm sorry," you ended up saying, voice quivering as you held back tears.

Both Namjoon and your mother furrow their eyebrows together. It was your mother, who was nearest to you, that reached forth to caress your cheeks in comfort. "Nonsense, honey," your mother softly chastises. "What on earth do you have to say sorry for?"

She was right. You didn’t intend for any of this to happen at all, but your thoughts have already come to a conclusion about your burdens. "It must've been a bother to hear about the accident," you say, looking at the white sheets on your lap. "The bill, too," you suddenly gasp, "how much is it?"

Your mother shakes her head. "Don't worry about those things, honey," she tells you, "Namjoon's been helping me deal with that."

At the mention of his name, Namjoon, who had been occupied for a moment with something on his phone, looked up in confusion. "Mom said you've been a great help with my hospitalization," you give him a grateful smile, "Thank you."

A slight flush of red stretched across his cheeks and ears as he held back the beginnings of a shy grin at your words. "It's no problem, at all," he gently says, “I’m glad to be of help.”

There was a flutter in your heart that you pushed away, chalking it up to gratitude over the acts of a kind stranger. It was then you noticed the frequent flashing of his phone, something you could tell he deliberately tries to ignore. "Do you have somewhere else to be?" you softly ask, catching him off guard.

It takes Namjoon a while but he nods in embarrassment. “Is it important?” you stare at the device throwing up a tantrum. You wonder what it is that’s demanding his time from you so much. Was it his job? Was it his friends? Was it a significant other?

Somehow, that last part hurts to think of.

He nods again. You didn’t understand why he’s so hesitant to leave when he’s needed somewhere else. Did it have to do with what you two are?

Alas, you didn’t have time to unpack all of that now. “It’s fine,” you assure him, “I’d hate to hold you back.”

The man before you looked so torn that you, yourself, felt a bit downcast. "Alright..." he sighs in defeat, hesitantly taking the baseball cap and mask by the table, and securing it on his head. "I'm so sorry to leave so soon."

"It's alright, Namjoon," your mother smiles. "Take care."

Namjoon gives a polite bow and smiles. Distracted by his dimples, you only offer a meek wave with your hand. "I'll visit as soon as I can," he tells you. "Get well soon."

Numbly, you nod as something in you stirs. Something in you feels at ease with his presence. Something in you feels fuzzy seeing his smile. Something in you hates to see him go—but not knowing what exactly makes you feel these things has forced you to keep your mouth shut.

Not a moment later the door closes, your mysterious knight in shining armor gone.

It was an absolute torture, really, to have be stuck for the next month in the dull walls of your hospital room doing recovery. On the bright side, it was nice to hear from your doctor that you were progressing quite nicely. You were still missing bits and pieces, of course, but it was something you couldn't force your brain to just up and do.

That aside, it was the promise of getting out of the hospital that really pulled you through the gruelling hours you spent there. It was the curiosity, you suppose, of seeing the world you once knew and experiencing it again.

There was also a certain boy that you found yourself looking forward to. Kim Namjoon would visit every week if he could, and he would bring with him food that actually tastes good (don't tell the hospital cafeteria that), some board games, red and purple flowers, or other things that made your stay a little worthwhile. He even came around bringing his friends around—Jimin and Taehyung, if your brain didn't fail to remind you clearly—and it was the most intense game of UNO you've ever had the chance to remember.

If your mom had to take a break or go back to your apartment for something, Namjoon would be more than glad to watch over you. He already spends hours with his visits as is. The two of you would talk about anything, watch any movie on the television, or listen to his music.

It was another thing that caught you off guard actually.

Kim Namjoon is an idol.

You had heard of his vibrant life nearly a week into your waking up. Still in the hospital bed, the two of you were sitting together as you waited for your mother to come back from your apartment. He had been reading a book, whilst you were idly flipping through the television channels.

A music show came on and you swore one of the men looked like him. Styled to the nines and ready for the spotlight, he looked good—really, really good.

“Is that you, Namjoon?” you had instantly asked him, pointing to the television. Never had you seen him so flustered before, but Namjoon managed to explain himself.

It was true. He is an idol—the leader of Bangtan Sonyeondan, an international KPop sensation, a man so sought after by millions of people around the world.

It was hard to wrap your head around. To think that the man before you, the one who had been so diligently visiting you, was a celebrity. The constant ringing of his phone, the long intervals between his visits, and his fussing over a mask and a cap suddenly made so much sense.

There were things you’ve managed to piece together from the weeks after your discharge from the hospital. It was thanks to your kind landlady and neighbors that you found out you were living in South Korea for about five years now. You had a decent job and a decent apartment. You seemed to have a decent life for yourself too.

There was still something missing though, but you still couldn’t put your finger on it. A large void in your heart that gapes at you, aching to be satiated with whatever it was that was taken from it on that fateful accident.

In spite of that little mishap, however, you fell into a routine quite easily. Even if there were fragments in your memories missing, you still managed to wake up on time, go to work, come home to your mom, and spend time with her after finishing any other possible duties at hand. Those were what your weekdays consisted of, but on weekends? Weekends were for—

Knock, knock, knock.

“Namjoon, good morning,” you hear your mom’s cheerful voice greet him by the door.

“Good morning, ma’am.” You could almost see that dimpley smile on his face.

A smile, too, blossoms on your face before you knew it. As usual, Namjoon was here on time.

You take a frantic lookover of yourself at the mirror on your wall. Your outfit was simple enough—knit sweater over a midi dress and a trusty satchel to keep your things—but you worried somehow that it might not be a good match for whatever it is that was planned for today.

Exiting your room, you look up to see a familiar large man waving at you by the hallway with his other hand poorly hiding something behind his back. “Hello,” you greet him with a smile, “did you eat breakfast yet?”

Namjoon sheepishly shakes his head as he hands you a small bouquet of red and purple flowers. They were a custom at this point, Namjoon having been so used to bringing you such flowers during his hospital visits that he had come to bring you them to every outing as well. "Didn't have enough time to," he then tells you as he slightly trails behind you to the kitchen where you took a big glass and filled it with water for a makeshift vase. The grin on his face persists as he sees you set the vase next to the ones that held the flowers he had brought you two weeks ago.

A hum leaves your lips. "Guess that makes two of us," you say, awkwardly fiddling with the sleeves of your sweater.

“You two can grab a bite on the way then,” your mother suddenly swings into the kitchen, laying down a coat onto your shoulders as she presses a kiss on your cheeks.

Her actions startle you. “But, mo—”

“I’m going to the spa, sweetie,” your mother declares as she excitedly ushers you and Namjoon out the door. “You two have fun!”

As the usual black car that served as your ride together on days like this came to a stop, Namjoon slides the door open for you and you murmur a shy thanks. “Thanks again,” you thank the man on the steering wheel as well, Namjoon grinning along with you as you both earned yourselves a little wave back from the driver.

The driver starts the car again to look for a parking spot, leaving you alone with Namjoon. It was then you prompted the question in your head. “Where are we going this time?” you ask him, head tilting to the side.

Namjoon gestures to a building nearby. It was relatively big and the people walking around were sparse, giving it a more calm and private aura. “A museum,” he simply tells you this with a grin so contagious that your own lips couldn't help but beam back at him.

These were what you easily found yourself looking forward to in the weeks since you had been discharged from the hospital. Today would be Namjoon's third effort on taking you around Seoul—to refresh your memories, he had said, and to hang out together, too. Namjoon took you biking along Han River on the first time, bought the both of you some bungeo-ppang while watching the sun set on your little break. Then, he took you to an aquarium two weeks ago, too, dragging you around to point excitedly and gawk together at any cute sea critter he saw.

Such moments like these were precious, not only because you were spending time with him, or because you were getting more and more familiar with the city, but because you knew for a fact that time for Namjoon was precious and yet he chose to spend it with you.

You couldn’t understand how on Earth you managed to cross paths with a celebrity before your accident, or what exactly made you so special that a celebrity like him would find the time to fit you in his busy, busy schedule, but either way, you understood that your time together was a chance for Namjoon to take a break from his famous persona.

“Your mom was awfully excited for spa day, wasn’t she?” Namjoon chuckles as the two of you walk along the street towards the museum.

This effectively knocks you out from your reverie. “To be fair, she’s always been interested in trying those sorts of things out,” you then shrug with a grin, as you check your phone for the time and the weather. “I think she thinks of you as a babysitter at this point.”

Namjoon, being the gentleman he is, only grins. You could swear you can imagine those dimples under his mask. “It’s alright,” he tells you, “I don’t mind at all.”

All of a sudden, the idol comes to a sharp halt, making you look at him in confusion. He doesn’t answer—he doesn’t even look you in the eyes. Instead, his fingers suddenly weave together with yours.

Naturally, his actions shock you to the point of having a blush spreading across your cheeks. You look onwards, and it suddenly clicks. Before you was a traffic light directing cars through the street that separated you two from the museum itself.

The accident.

Bits of it were still blurry in your head—all you knew, really, was that it hurt. Namjoon, on the other hand, was the one that must’ve seen the accident first hand, and the one that looked out for you in the hospital first in the place of your mother.

You return your gaze to Namjoon, giving his hand a small squeeze in assurance. He finally glances your way, embarrassment written across his eyes, but you both do nothing to take your hands apart as the two of you crossed the road.

His concern warms your heart and envelops you in an air so safe and sound. Kim Namjoon is clearly a blessing in your life—a literal angel from the heavens sent down to grace you with his presence. Whatever fate stitched your paths together, you were grateful for it.

You did notice something, however. No matter how much you can chalk it up to him just being a nice guy, there were signs that resonated from him—signs that told you he may be caring for you just a little bit more than friends do. Fond smiles, lingering touches, constant hanging out, pretty flowers—no one, as far as you could tell, has ever given you this many flowers.

You didn't want to assume, but you didn't want to go on like this either—not when you may or may not be hoping for a little bit of something.

Eventually, you get the courage to ask him some time inside the museum. “Namjoon?” you hushly call out, unsure of whether or not you should keep your distance or take a step closer.

He takes his gaze away from the modern masterpiece on the wall, naturally taking a step closer to give his full attention to you. “Yeah?”

With the way he ended your own inner argument, your mind buffers for a moment at the good ruler-length distance between you both. You tear your gaze away, the damned chicken in you coming out at the last minute. You could feel Namjoon looking down at you in concern, but stood patiently still for your words.

“Who are you to me?” you ask, voice so soft and feeble that the nerves were dreadfully obvious. A part of you mentally gives you a slap and a push to get all of this over with. “You…” you clear your throat, “You never really answered my question.. back then… at the hospital...”

To be honest with yourself, a part of you hoped that those flowers, those visits, those little touches meant something more. There was no shame in liking a man like Namjoon. He's a gentle giant with so much talent, love, and wisdom to give. Who wouldn't crush hard for the likes of him?

Oh wow. It feels weird to come to terms with your feelings—that giddy but antsy feeling in your belly, that rapid heart beating, that frantic buzzing of your head as all it could ever think now is him. It's a resounding conclusion, a childish need to start squealing overtaking your senses.

Him. Him. Him.

I have a crush on him.

Before you, however, Namjoon stiffens. “Oh,” he says.

And that one sound was somehow enough to blow a crack onto your heart. Fuck. Your eyes go wide in panic and distress. Did I complicate things? Did I make him uncomfortable?

“It’s fine!” you rushed to ease his discomfort. “You don’t have to answer me! Forget I said anythi—”

Namjoon’s eyes meet with yours, the indecipherable state of them stealing the words from your mouth and rendering you anticipating his. “You’re...” he began, searching for his choice of words. “You’re someone I really cherish in life.”

You nod softly, both endeared and disappointed to hear such words from his mouth. You wanted something specific—be it the words you wanted to hear or the words that could’ve broken your heart. Whether it was the "I like you" that would've made you the happiest woman alive or the "You're like a friend/sister to me" that would've shattered your daydream and give you a slap back to reality, "You're someone I really cherish in life" was a sentence that tiptoed on a line between two drastic territories.

Namjoon settled for something a little vague.

Does he cherish you as a woman romantically or platonically?

Does he want to start calling these things dates too?

Does he want to keep walking along with your hands intertwined too?

Something—was it the desperate hopeless romantic in you?—told you that he was holding back. With the way his jaw was clenched, you came to think he’s frustrated with something—clearly something he’s not ready to talk about yet, so you do your best to move on. “That’s great,” you say, nonetheless, a bittersweet smile on your lips. “You’re someone I cherish, too.”

Someone I really hold dear to my heart.

It must've been obvious—your disdain—else, Namjoon wouldn't have spoke again to ease the awkward tension in the air.

"We haven't known each other for that long before the incident," he tells you, rubbing at the back of his neck, "but you really have become someone I hold dear to my heart."

Then and there, your heart skips a beat.

Something chaotic arose in you, a little devil that crawled from the very depths of your mind to wreak havoc with the new realized crush you had on the man beside you. There was barely friendship to ruin then if you two hadn't known each other for that long.

Well, aside from the bond you've made together in the months you've been awake.

Still, with this fresh news he told you, he made it sound like you two were too much strangers to have been anything.

"It isn't that hard to like you."

Namjoon's head almost snaps to look at you. Your own hand almost snaps to slap it over your wretched mouth. The two of you could only gawk at each other.

"What did you say?" a flabbergasted Namjoon asks you.

A groan leaves you for a moment, you wanting—begging—the ground to just swallow you whole. Alas, all you could do is suck it up and be a big girl. "What I meant by that is," you cleared your throat, "it's a shame we weren't already well-acquainted before the accident. I think we could've been more than friends."

Namjoon gawks at you still.

You take a deep breath. "I like you, Joon," you confess, the exhale you make seemingly taking the weight off your heart too. "I know it's too sudden, but I think I see you as someone more than just a friend."

The big oaf is still processing. "You… do?"

A laugh manages to escape you, finding amusement in his shock. "Yes," you say earnestly, feeling a bit more confident with your confession. "You're kind, handsome, and just a really awesome person," you tell him, "I meant it when I said you're someone I cherish."

His dimples resurface, and you are yet again helpless. Namjoon's eyes were soft yet twinkling as he gazed into yours. "I meant it to."

Two weeks passed by since that fateful day at the museum, and Namjoon was yet again occupied with his duties. It was fine of course—who were you to demand things from him?—but what didn’t sit right with you was how things were still a bit vague between you two.

He acknowledged your crush. He even seemed to like it, too. Alas, in the midst of your giddy victory over not being outright rejected, you forgot to ask him for a clear answer too.

Did he like you too?

You grow antsy by the minute, thoughts plaguing your overthinking brain to the point of a slight headache.

Fuck it.

You take a leap of faith—not caring if it was recklessly foolish of you—and grab your phone to type out the beginnings of your grand scheme to fully woo Kim Namjoon yourself. The words your fingers bring to life start off casual enough.

Simple and easy enough to get out of, it only took you a few minutes of debating and overthinking to press that send button.

It took three (painful) hours to get a reply, the sound of a notification springing you up from your dilapidated state on your bed.

Your heart almost drops at the subtle rejection, but it doesn't hurt that much. Just a little bit. With a sigh, you type out your response, glad to know he’s somewhat available enough now that you’ve heard from him.

A part of you fussed if what you sent was too cringey or awkwardly put, but his next words made you forget such thoughts in an instant.

You waited a couple more minutes, but nothing followed. Was that it? No worries, I will?

Another text interrupts the awful ache that just started to bubble within you, replacing it instead with confusion.

Ding dong

You hear the faint ring of the doorbell from your room, making you freeze. You glance at the words on your phone, then at the door where you could hear the distant voice of your mother answering the door. Not a moment later...

“(Y/N)!” she called out. “You have a delivery!”

As if they could bulge out, your eyes widened even further as you pocket your phone and slipped off your bed—pajamas, bed head, and all. Your feet took you to the kitchen where you heard your mother go about.

There at the table were familiar flowers in red and purple, and just by looking at it, a sense of giddiness washes over you. You gently take them in your hand as the other fishes for your phone in the pocket of your hoodie.

The smile on your face made your cheeks hurt.

Alas, there can only be so much good things you could have for a day.

“Are those from Namjoon?” your mother peeks from the kitchen, a warm smile stretching across her face as she resorts to leaning against the wall to look over at you.

Instinctively, you take a small whiff of the bouquet in hand as you tuck your phone away. “Yeah,” you absentmindedly reply with a ghost of a smile unknowingly making it to your face, almost forgetting about the fact that you were fretting over him in the first place.

You were oblivious to your mother’s pleased reaction. “What a sweetheart,” she muses, approaching you to take a closer look at the flowers. She rests both of her callous hands on each of your shoulders, giving them a light squeeze of excitement. “I’m so glad he’s your soulmate, sweetie,” she gushes, “he’s quite the keeper.”

At such words, you froze, heart skipping a beat. All this time, you had only thought Namjoon to be a friend you were having an awful crush on—but a soulmate?

Right, the soulmate system. How could you have forgotten to put soulmates into the whole equation of this?

“I’m sorry,” you breathlessly gawked, “did you just say soulmate?”

It seems like the soulmate system still works for the likes of Namjoon, whom Fate has robbed his soulmate of their memories from time long passed.

No words could ever truly define how beyond ecstatic Namjoon is to hear such words from her. (Y/N) (L/N), his soulmate and other half for the rest of eternity and end of time, likes him. Even without remembering him as her soulmate, she likes him. It wasn't love just yet, but Namjoon was in no rush—not when everything was starting to fall back into place.

Still, it begs a question in his head; will it be alright to try now?

Namjoon stares at the unconscious state of his soulmate, insides knotting together in an entangled mess of nerves and fury. He had just gotten off a discussion with the young delivery boy, the poor lad a sniffling mess as he was interrogated by Namjoon, his soulmate’s mother, and a lawyer. Mrs. (L/N) decided not to put up any charges, pitying the poor boy.

“Thank you, Namjoon,” the woman told him, voice soft and hoarse, dripping with fatigue from both the travel and the grief.

Namjoon bows, a bit jittery—he was meeting his potential mother-in-law, after all. “It’s nothing, ma’am,” he shyly says, “I just wanted to make sure (Y/N) gets treated as best as possible.”

This notion causes Mrs. (L/N) to raise a brow. She hasn’t heard of a ‘Namjoon’ from her daughter before.“Does my daughter know you, Namjoon?”

Namjoon froze for a moment, but opted for honesty—not that he would’ve had the chance of being a believable liar when he’s this much of a wreck at the moment. “Uh...” he mulls his words over, “a little, ma’am.”

Seeing confusion, he explains the situation further. “We met just a few minutes before the accident,” he tells her, breath shaking at the memory of the wave, the street, the crash, and the blood. His tears almost flooded his eyes again. “I’m her,” he shakily sighs with a bittersweet smile, “soulmate.”

Mrs. (L/N) was shocked for a moment, but soon enough an understanding flashed before her eyes. She nods softly, staring at her daughter again with a fond smile. (Y/N) had been born with a lot of her past life memories intact, often crying about them.

Knowing that her daughter could've been happy with her soulmate already, but this happened instead, made (M/N) quite teary. Still, she was glad her daughter had a reliable soulmate. “Thank you for taking care of her in that short moment then,” she smiled, truly grateful.

Infamous dimples proudly resurface on Namjoon’s cheeks, in spite of the shy demeanor in his smile. “She’s my soulmate, ma’am,” he said, “I’ll be taking care of her for the rest of my life, if fate allows me to.”

Namjoon's heart hammered against his chest as he recalled that moment at the hospital.

Take care of (Y/N). Such were the words that he had pinned atop his many, many thoughts.

Alas, each day, it was getting harder and harder to keep himself in line—keep the longing and aching part of him locked away somewhere. He worries, thinks, and worries some more.

Even if she liked him, it doesn't necessarily make it clear if he should court her now or wait for her triggers to start setting in. He wouldn't want to make the risk of an explosive trigger higher with a romantic relationship and end up putting her in pain. No. He will never let her get hurt. Never again.

Take care of (Y/N)—he would often remind himself. Worry about her first before your feelings, Namjoon. You can do this.

A familiar ringtone rips through the air, pulling Namjoon from his internal debate. The contact on his phone read out the very name engraved in his head and his heart almost jumped out.

He was just thinking of her.

Not having it in him to distance himself more than he already has, Namjoon slides his finger across his phone. "Hello, (Y/N)?" he says, clearing his throat. A part of him worries that his poor choice of words in their chat earlier may have come across wrong in some way, or if she had som—

"We need to talk."

There was a shake in her voice. It didn’t sound furious—it didn’t sound like anything. It was numb almost, and that alone was enough to stop Namjoon’s world for a moment. “About what? Did something happen?” he immediately asks, a storm of worry brewing within him.

Alas, he looks at his desk before him, littered with papers and work all over as a product of his reckless pursuit to keep his mind off of her. “I’m sorry, I can’t leave right now but if ther—”

A heavy breath puts an end to his words. “Namjoon, please,” you plea, emotions of all sorts drowning two simple words. It hurts to hear his name fall from your lips that way.

Namjoon gets up, easily admitting defeat as he leaves his studio. “Alright. Wait for me.”

There can only be so much good things you could have for a day.

Namjoon is your soulmate.

“Oh dear, I thought he told you already,” was what your mother had said after her little slip up. “With all the little dates you two have been to, I thought you would’ve known by now, sweetie.”

The news shook you to your core and you were elated and distraught all the same. You didn’t have a trigger. You didn’t have any prior memories. You were just left with a statement.

Namjoon is your soulmate.

It was something that felt so right to hear, but with barely anything else to back it up, there was still doubt in your heart.

Is that why he was hesitant?

Why did he tell me in the first place?

Was it bad?

Hell, you didn't even think to add soulmates to your grand scheme of wooing Kim Namjoon. How could the entire soulmate system slip past your mind in the past few months you've been awake?!

Namjoon is your soulmate.

You need to hear it from Namjoon yourself—hear if it’s true that the universe meant for you to be together, hear why he chose to hide that fact from you.

And so, here you were at Han River waiting for him.

“(Y/N)?”

Your heart stops to hear your name from an all too familiar voice. You couldn’t find it in you to turn around just yet, wanting nothing more than to put this all into pause. You weren’t a fan of confrontation—not after your miserable attempt in the museum.

Footsteps approach you, and you know just who it is. You didn’t have to look up either. The feet that set its place before you and the bench you sat in were familiar shoes, yet all they served to be was a backdrop for the flowers presented to you.

“You just sent me flowers an hour ago,” you manage to find your voice in a hushed whisper, a part of you wanting to laugh but your harried thoughts wouldn’t let you. It took a lot to look up at him—at the man who you first met in a hospital, at the man who held your heart, at the man who was apparently your soulmate all along.

Namjoon flusters before you, almost putting the small bunch in his hands away. Knowing his shortcoming, however, he remains with his hand outstretched. “You sounded upset,” he says, pulling his mask down to talk with you properly. “I thought they might make you feel better.”

Managing a small smile, you glance down at the flowers of red and purple he presents to you. As you gently took the bouquet from his hands, you couldn’t ignore the ringing in your head that seemed to be screaming out to you.

“(Y/N)?” you faintly hear Namjoon’s voice call out to you in concern. There was a secure grip that held you up by the arms as you staggered a bit.

You try to come back to reality. You try—but your senses wane.

Alas, in spite of your best efforts, you were plunged into cold waters, unable to hear anything. Your breath hitched as the pinch in your heart began to escalate. In the confines of your own mind, you were frantically clawing your way out of the abyss—desperate to reach the surface and find out the truth.

Come on, (Y/N). Remember.

“Welcome to Purple Blooms, how may I help you?”

A warm smile made it to your face as you entered the premises of your local flower shop. You took notice that the attendant by the desk isn’t the usual blonde that manned the shop, but you greeted her nonetheless. “Hi,” you said with a slight bow, “I’m (Y/N) (L/N). I ordered a bouquet of—”

“Red carnations and statices?” she piped, after your name seemed to ring a bell in her head. When you had replied with a nod, she disappeared to the staff room of the shop to retrieve your order.

Biding your time, you looked around to take in your surroundings, in spite of being so accustomed to the small shop in all of your months here. The scent of flowers in the air was prominent, but what really made you giddy was the amount of meaning these beauties possessed.

You knew quite a handful of the flower language—courtesy of your past lives’ fascination with them. To you, there was always an element of creative passion in the flowers and the message they convey could do wonders.

“Miss?”

Turning back to the attendant, you gave her a grateful smile as you handed her the money in exchange for the bouquet in her hands. “I had fun arranging this one,” she tells you, smiling brightly. “It was one of my first bouquets.”

Your eyebrows shot up in interest as you cradled the bouquet closer to you, taking a whiff of the flowers. “Really?” you mused, “You did a good job then. Thank you.”

“Any time, ma’am,” she beams, “Come again!”

As you exited the quaint shop, you waved the woman goodbye and went on your way to the cemetery—as you usually do with the bouquets. You gazed down on the red and purple hues in your hand, feeling the wistfully warm sensation in your heart.

You knew just what these flowers meant to you and your soulmate.

The utter joy in the air was easily contagious, the sun shining over the field only serving to amplify the vibrant aura of the moment. Before you stood your bestest friend in a raggedy shirt, loose pants, and wild hair askew in all sorts of directions. “For you, my lady,” she declared in a feign manly tone, revealing the flowers from behind him with a wide grin and a silly bow that makes you giggle as you do a similarly exaggerated bow.

“Thank you, good sir,” you beam back, happily taking the small bunch she had likely stolen from Mrs. Hopkins’ garden. The flowers were pretty shades of purple and red—a gesture you didn’t quite understand as a twelve year old girl.

There were a lot of things you didn’t understand as a twelve year old, actually. Why your best friend’s roguish and carefree attitude was so frowned upon, why the boys in town had to be so cruel, why she had to be sent away.

You would, however, in your later years, find the flowers to be a combination of red carnations and statices that, thanks to the book of flower language you came across in a library, respectively meant sincere love and remembrance.

It is through this you saw flashes of the same flowers being given between two people. It is through this you had your very first trigger.

There in that old house of a childhood long passed, tears fell upon the withered petals pressed and preserved in between the pages of your old favorite book. The truth dawned on you, leaving you helpless to do anything now that you had a husband and children to look after.

Your soulmate and your best friend, one in the same. Your soulmate, a woman you haven’t seen in two decades, haven’t heard of since she was forced to board that ship to the new world with her older brother.

You cry—cry for the love you never had the chance to have with your other half in this lifetime, cry for what could’ve been but didn’t.

In the next life, you vow. I’ll remember and love you more.

You remember now.

That was the first lifetime in which neither of you remembered anything. So close yet so far, an almost that plagued that past incarnate of yours till the end of her life.

It was funny, you thought. You were crying just as hard as this when your memories started coming to you when you were around ten. Your parents couldn’t understand the hysterics you were in, and nearly had to rush you to the hospital. This was the bitter and awful side of the soulmate system that the world had to become accustomed to.

It became a catalyst for you maturing at such a young age—to know of customs and moments long gone, to have the knowledge of centuries return to you in days, to become suddenly so aware and so daunted of the fact that you were part of the soulmate system.

You remember where your most recent incarnate had lived with her soulmate—Korea. It had been a quiet life, one you hoped you’d have in this life too. You supposed it was because of this that you were so drawn to go to South Korea too, causing you to study hard in order to convince your parents to go on a holiday trip around there.

You remember being fifteen and wanting to visit their graves for nostalgia’s sake on that very trip, laying down that bouquet of red carnations and statices over the cobblestone with tears and a bittersweet smile.

You remember the pitiful gazes your mom would give you as she could only watch you at a distance, knowing she can’t do much with your past lives other than to support your current self.

You remember deciding to just live in Korea all together as soon as you graduated, applying into multiple companies until you got accepted by your current employer—constantly going through places you’ve been to while making new adventures to tell, too.

You remember that day.

You remember going to the flower shop you frequent, remember smiling at the new employee who handed you the bouquet.

You remember going to the cemetery, giving a short message over the grave and a silent prayer to meet your soulmate soon.

You remember someone calling your name as you left, a man frantically waving at you from the other side of the street.

Him. In an instant, you knew just who he was—knew just who those kind eyes belonged to.

Your soulmate. Your other half.

Kim Namjoon.

The sight of you trembling sent Namjoon’s head in a flurry of emotions. He sat you down, worried with the way your knees were buckling. He waits beside you, rubbing circles onto your back as he watched you stare down at the bouquet in your hands through your tears.

It was after a long, almost torturous moment that he saw the weak turn you made to face him. Namjoon sees the recognition and struggle shining in your eyes as they flow with tears. “You remembered,” he softly gasps, eyes blurring with tears himself as he realizes this. His heavy heart eases for a moment, but it comes to a shortstop.

Another wave of tears hit, a sob breaking past your lips as you nod, leaning close. “Oh, baby...” he sighs, heart clenching at the sight of you. Namjoon easily wraps his arms around you—both as a result of his own emotions and an effort to comfort you.

“I remember,” you breathe, clutching his jacket tighter as you bury your head into his neck further. “I remember...”

Namjoon presses a gentle kiss into your hair. “Yes, you do,” he says as he pulls away and smiles gently at you, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I’m so happy you do.”

You clumsily rub away at your face in embarrassment of him seeing you like this, hands wet with more tears. “I’m sorry,” you sniffled.

The universe blessed you with a patient gentle giant for a soulmate. Namjoon brushes your hair away from your face, his touch of great effect calming you down from the rollercoaster that your surge of memories gave you. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, jagi,” he hushes you with gentle strokes on the back of your hand. “Cry it out. Deep breaths.”

Doing as he said, you regain your composure—enough to at least form your words more coherently. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask, voice a little hoarse and quiet that Namjoon had trouble understanding at first.

“What?”

The windows to your soul came to meet with his and Namjoon sees the pain swimming in them. “Why didn’t you tell me you were my soulmate?” you say, a little more clearly and a little more hurt.

There was a guilty expression on Namjoon’s face and he shamefully looked away for a moment, but he takes a deep breath to man himself up. “I didn’t want to lay it on you so suddenly. You woke up barely knowing anything, after all.” he admitted, looking down at both of your hands. “ I thought, what if I suddenly cause a trigger? Wouldn’t it make things worse for her? I didn’t want that to happen.”

Alright, so he had a point, but— “I would’ve wanted to know that sooner, Joon,” you tell him, still upset having spent weeks pining for him, only to find out he’s been pining after you too but didn’t say anything about it.

“I know,” Namjoon sighs, looking at the sky to keep any more of his tears at bay. “I suppose I got scared of hurting you or seeing you in pain. I saw you get hit by a motorcycle,” he told you, “on the day I first saw you in this lifetime, I saw you get hit.”

The tremble on his voice easily elicits your own tears to come back. Namjoon sees this and gently shakes his head, a silent message for you to not waste any more tears. He presses a soft kiss onto your forehead before resting his own against it.

Your eyes flutter to a close as you revel in his presence. “I’m sorry for hurting you even though I said I didn’t want to,” you hear him murmur, making a breathless chuckle leave your lips.

“It was pretty rude of you to do,” you jokingly muse, and Namjoon drops his head onto your shoulder with a groan, embarrassed of himself.

The idol in your embrace savors the moment he had in your arms. “I know, I know...” he murmured, “I’m a terrible soulmate.”

Pulling away, you squish his face in your hands. “But you’re a great guy,” you coo at him, “and I still really, really like you.”

His dimples make their appearance, making you grin back at him. “Really?” he asks, eyes shining at the implication of your forgiveness.

You nod, cheeks hurt from all the giddy, happy feels. “Really.”

“I really, really like you, too,” he muses, the both of you chuckling. Elated, Namjoon leaned forwards and brought his lips onto your forehead yet again. “You won’t ever be in pain again,” he swore to you, “not if I can help it.”

As a smile blossoms in your lips, you close your eyes and lean forth, melting into his arms. Everything in your heart has fallen into place.

It was alright now.

You remember. Both of you do.

It was now time to officially start anew in this lifetime, make new memories, and then some.

#bts #bangtan sonyeondan #BTS au #bts soulmate au #bts fluff #bts romance #bts angst #bts writing #bts rm #bts kim namjoon #bts kim namjoon x reader #bts imagines #kim namjoon #kim namjoon imagines #kim namjoon fluff #kim namjoon angst #kim namjoon romance #kim namjoon x reader #bts reincarnation au

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shesawriter39049 · 3 years

Text

|Breakdown’s & Bugatti’s| M|

PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader (Ft a hint of Tae & Jin)

About- Namjoon just does what he has to do to keep you ....calm while at a charity gala!

OR:

CHAPTER 1 : MEET THE KIMS OF NEW YORK

**WARNINGS: **Semi public sex, Fingering (F receiving), Minimal prep, Light dirty talk, Light spit play, Choking, Spanking, Gags (Makeshift), Non protective sex (Creampie), light overstimulation

WC: 7K (This is a sneak peak so it’s 1.2k)

NON SEXUAL WARNINGS: (Fictional political background) Hints at recreational drug use (Molly) Brief mentions of death, father issues, and panic attacks/anxiety (All of these topics are super minor but again, out of respect I’m mentioning them)

The remaining “characters” will be introduced at a later date

This chapter hints at various future plots

This is almost 2 years old, I reworked it recently

If you’ve been following me for a while this is the original draft for “Club First Royale”

FINAL NOTE: I haven’t been active in damn hear a year ( 8 months) So I am posting sneak peeks intentionally! No, not to torture you guys lol but to get my blog flowing again because I’m sure people aren’t really checking in anymore

OT7 ALTERNATING STORYLINES

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FINALLY, fuck 36737 years later you spot your Kim!

Standing there in all his glory, in a Valentino slim fit navy blue suit, the jacket appearing to have some sort of paisley print, opting against a tie. Leaving his crisp white dress shirt slightly unbuttoned, teasing at his broad carnalized chest as he makes his way from the bar. Heading over to the table, which has an empty seat waiting right beside him with your name written all over it...literally!

Purposely dodging the old lady to your left in a coat that would have PETA ready to throw hands! Gaudy diamonds, terrible Botox, and smelled as if she showered in an entire bottle Chanel No. 5!

Yeah, no, sorry, not in the mood for another meet and greet right now!

“Joonie” Squeals from your lips once you’re in close enough proximity, his dark piercing eyes cut over to meet yours. A playful smirk tugging on those sinfully thick lips of his, accompanied by those disrespectful ass dimples!

“There she is!” Eyes dripping with warmth, as he ushered you in with open arms ,and in these types of situations, Namjoon felt like home, he was your safe space. “You look fuckin good” The words hushed into your hair in a tenor meant for your ears and your ears only! A hint of something a little more than just friendly playing on his tongue.

A small little “Thank you” leaves your lips, and if I didn't know any better I’d think the compliment made you a little flustered.

Namjoon was the definition of Ocean arm’s and goddamn if you didn't just love how big this man was! It literally felt like he was hiding you from the entire universe when he has you nuzzled into his frame! The whole interaction couldn't have lasted longer than 20 seconds in all actuality but god you needed it!

Face flush to his chest, wrapping your arms firm around his waist, letting your eyes flutter shut briefly, a deep slow exhale flooded through your body. Inhaling the musky yet sweet scent of his cologne mixed with his natural aroma, which has grown to become a calming mechanism over the years.

“You had me worried for a minute…” Placing a quick kiss in your hair, that you would have missed if you blinked but again, your in public soo...

Palms soothing up and down your back gently, as he breathed into your hair , pulling back a little so there was some form of personal space between the two of you.

“Your late, even for you princess...I know you started early, I got your live(Instagram) notification, so what happened?” Head clocked to the side as he appraises you and fuck, the bass in his voice still has you all types of fucked up! Glancing over your shoulder briefly before leaning up to place a kiss on the hinge of his jaw, that tittered the line of passing as an “innocent” greeting.

“I’m fine Jonnie it’s nothing, we just got held up in glam.., Ariel was flying in from Miami...we got a late start” Gaze intentionally diverted as you welcomed yourself to his glass of Scotch instead. Damn near inhaling the entire drink as we speak and you hated dark liquor so that alone let him know something was up!

Merely resisting the urge to smooth out the crease he felt forming between his brows, a dry snort left his lips, rolling his eyes in response to your blatant stubbornness. Nevertheless, always the gentleman, reaching down to pull out your chair so you could take a seat next to him. Mirroring your actions just moments prior, quickly scoping out his surroundings before he brought those plush pillows he calls lips a centimeter away from your ear.

Fuck.

“Right, so I'm just going to assume you don’t wanna talk about it right now! Or wait I’m sorry, have you just upgraded to insulting my intelligence straight to my damn face?”

Brow quirked inquisitively, and you could literally feel every word, tone taking on a hint of seriousness the more he talked. Namjoon licked his lips and the tip skimmed the edge of your ear and I - .

“For one you smell like an entire bottle of Heidsieck, I can almost taste the nicotine on your tongue and you've been crying I know you. ”

Pulling back just enough to glare down at you above the brim of his glasses, which he always wore low along his bridge. Eyes daring you to look him in the face a lie again, teasing his fingers through his chocolate locks. Styled in the perfect semi grown out undercut, the top a little on the long side, while the sides tapered into a crisp fade. Sideburns outlining that extremely understated jawline of his! Though you had to admit the yellow gold diamonds dawning his ears were kinda stealing the show right now!

“So again, do you just not wanna talk about it right now? Or have you forgotten that I have an IQ of 137, and can smell bullshit from here all the way to Gangnam!?”

You're having very vivid day daydreams of your hand wrapped around this man's windpipe and for once it’s not even remotely sexual!

Blatantly ignoring the strong twitch within Namjoon’s jaw and simply saying “I’m here, aren’t I!?” Face stoic, tone flat as all hell, in case it wasn’t clear that this conversation was more than over, you opted to eye his bourbon glazed salmon until he got the hint.

“Oh, for fucks sake! ” Hissed from his lips without a lick of heat behind them, because as quiet as it’s kept ,your lowkey Joon’s baby, which is why he cares to begin with! Picking up a piece on his fork before essentially shoving it into your hand ”Your lucky I can’t have your ass getting sick on me tonight, we still have like, 3 hours left of this bullshit.”

More like he just can’t tell you no, but hey, whatever helps him sleep at night! Sliding his plate in your direction, completely giving up on eating at this point, he knew you needed it more anyway! Finally, starting to feel your mix of poisons hit your system so you knew you needed to even it out with a little substance. I mean yeah, you could have just ordered your own plate but meh, this was easier!

Namjoon started busying himself on his phone while you ate, scrolling through a couple contacts until he landed on a contact labeled under “Kookie”.

“Even though you were only late because “Your glam team ran late” There were air bunnies involved, and again you just really wanna choke his ass! “What are you thinking tonight? He’s actually on his way here right now, but he already has a couple options on him...”

The question was vague and for damn good reason...considering…

However you knew exactly what he was referring too.., and thank god!

Speaking over a mouth full of salmon, sounding utterly exasperated! “Honestly, any fucking thing at this point…”

Namjoon hums thoughtfully, sucking on a Bourbon soaked Ice cube “He’ll be here in 20, I just went with Smartees…always a safe bet...”

Smartees, candy, Vitamin -E, Molly... Estcasy...it’s all one and the same, just depends on who you ask!

He leans back in, apparently keen on whispering tonight. “Maybe, if your a good girl and eat enough we can split one before we leave...chill you out a little bit. '' Voice thick and heady, lips curling into a grin with a hint of something wicked playing on the ends, as his fingers idly ghost over your forearm. Giving it a light squeeze and regardless of how innocent the skin-ship may seem to the naked eye, you’re well aware of all the underlying innuendos behind it!

You make a noise of agreement, trying your damnedest to ignore the slight chill coursing up your spine at the pet name. Though before you could even dwell, Namjoon was sliding back in with another update, this one however wasn't as...arousing…to say the least!

“Fox 2’s been waiting for you to get here by the way...since the event was put together by council and all. They've been wanting to talk to us together about the fundraiser, just the same shit as last year.”

Waving his hand dismissively idly twirling the various pieces of Bvlgari around his fingers, seemingly un-phased while you on the other hand...release the most exasperated huff! Reclining against your seat, eyes rolling to the back of your head in 30 different directions! Yeah, It comes with the territory, you know this, hints Namjoons reaction, or lack thereof! But fuck you just really weren’t in the mood to do press tonight, It’s literally physically exhausting to pretend that you weren’t just PISSED!

“Of -fuckin- course they do!” Stabbing your mashed potatoes in a way that's... somewhat concerning…

“Baby.” It was a warning, though his voice sat barley above a whisper, his tone was crystal! Eyes cutting in your direction briefly before dropping back down to his phone….

You didn't have it in you to argue, there’s no way around this anyway, fuck it! “What -the-fuck-ever!” Sliding the half empty plate aside “Well, you wanna just get it out of the way now? Because I’m really not in the mood for-”

“Y/n..oh my god! Hi, honey how are you!? You look beautiful as always…” Suddenly there was a human, a human wearing the wrong shade of foundation kissing your cheek. A human by the name of Caroline, one of the local news anchors...clearly her damn ears were ringing.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi guys, that’s all she wrote, well kinda, actually she finished it like 16 months ago lol but that’s all she wrote for now I guess....

**_

_****Love you...see ya soon!!**

***SIDE NOTE, MY FRIEND MADE THE TWITTER EDIT SO DON’T ASK LOL IDK ****

UPDATE: HEADCANONS FOR THE KIM BOYS/OC

HEADCANONS

#Namjoon #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon au #kim namjoon #kim namjoon smut #kim namjoon x reader #bts #bts smut #bts au #bts x reader #kim namjoon x you #kpop #kpop smut #kpop au

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soulmatesabroad · 3 years

Text

Soulmate Prompts:

Since this is a fic fest about soulmates, we are in need of prompt suggestions! Please send in some prompts that have to do with soulmates! You do NOT have to be writing for this fest to send in prompts!

More info can be found at @soulmatesabroad!

A: The One au. The One is a tv series that's sort of dystopian in that it explores a reality in which you could suddenly apply to this program that will match you to your soulmate and it follows how specific people deal with that.

B: Where you wake up with a tattoo after meeting your soulmate. Larry are vacationing at the same hotel, they meet and then every day for 4 days after they both gain a new tattoo. When they meet again, they realize their tattoos match perfectly. Rope & anchor, compass & ship, heart & arrow, rose & dagger.

C: Ziall soulmates au where their first words to each other are tattooed somewhere on their body. Both of them have the phrase “fuck you” on their arms. Of course the first time they meet they both say...

D: in uni, prof is giving a lecture, his student is his soulmate, figuring it out over the semester

E: reverse Wellington: Larry meet, drunk Louis shouts "soulmate" at Harry, then they get to know each other and fall in love

F: Larry please- soulmates who meet in dreams and appear the way they see themselves so that irl one doesn’t recognize the other because he sees himself as plain/boring

G: Larry please - One of them either doesn’t want to meet his soulmate and has been doing everything to avoid meeting them. He gets stuck in a time loop (like Groundhog Day) until he meets and acknowledges his soulmate.

H: One of them is a surfer, the other is a photographer and they meet somewhere warm. They're 26 and kinda gave up on finding their soulmate but then it happens.

i: any pairing: universe in which soulmates recognise each other by having the same song stuck in their head. cue person a hearing person b humming the song under their breath in location x

J: Larry please - fic where each year you get opportunities to meet your soulmate and live life with them but as soon as the clock hits 00:00 on Dec 31st your memory resets in regards to who your soulmate is. There’s no way to go around this...or is there?

K: A is a hopeless romantic who has always dreamed of meeting their soulmate. Unfortunately their remote location means they see the same few people every day, none of whom is their match. When Character B arrives and A falls in love with them, the question arises: are they soulmates? Or does A just want them to be?

L: Food is love, and supposedly your soulmate's cooking will taste better than anything you've ever eaten before. Too bad Character A is hopeless in the kitchen. Character B is the chef who promises they can teach anyone how to cook-- is that the only reason A finds their food so delicious? Or is there something more at play?

M: Characters A and B are working together on a yacht. They share a room, and as crew they also happen to share most of their working hours and duties as well. Is that the reason they're so drawn to one another? Regardless of their connection, they're both determined to keep it professional.

N: It's not only humans who have soulmates, apparently. At least if the pet psychic Character A has consulted about their dog's depression is to be believed. The psychic claims the pup met his soulmate at doggie daycare. Now A is trying to see if she's right by seeking out every possible dog from the playgroup. Will helping a dog find it's soulmate lead Character A to the same thing?

O: Hybrids aren't accepted many places, but in a few countries they have full rights and equality, even if prejudice still exists. Character A was raised in an anti-hybrid country and is now studying/working in a hybrid friendly place. Character B is the hybrid neighbor who they feel drawn to in ways they've heard are typical of soulmates. The possibility is as frightening as it is enticing.

P: Nontraditonal ABO: it's generally accepted doctrine that alphas and omegas are made to go together. Character A has always been attracted to people of their own secondary gender, and has therefore run away from the concept of finding a soulmate. When they meet character B, who shares their secondary gender, and find that the two of them share a soulmark-- the sign of a true mate --their world is turned upside down.

Q: (larry) They have been penpals for years now, sharing their little creative thoughts with each other. Will they ever meet? A new job, a different city, some crossed paths and fate might help.

R: Louis is 30 and the CEO of his family business in Toronto and he has hired a new assistant, Harry, 27. A lot of sexual tension, business trips, coincidences and ‘if he my soulmate or I just have a stalker and also a big crush?’

S: Strangers to friends with benefits to lovers larry; Louis and Harry has finished college and they both are doing a tour across Europe visiting different countries. They start from different cities in and meet in the second/third country they’re visiting. They get along quickly and have a one night stand because they think they won’t meet again. But they meet again in the next city or in the trip to the next city. Is their connection due to their sexual attraction or because they’re soulmates?

T: Louis and Harry are both Niall’s friend but they don’t know each other, however they meet in Niall’s wedding (with his soulmate) in Ireland (or another country if the author prefer another place for the wedding)

U: Larry: Soulmates have a special connection, they have visions of their more important events of their life - both sad and happy but they can’t see their faces, bodies or their friends/families faces. Louis and Harry know everything important that happen to them but they haven’t met yet, they live in different countries and they know that but they don’t know the country they live in. How will they meet? What will happen?

V: Larry: Exes to lovers - People have their soulmates mark in their 18 birthday. Harry and Louis were together during high school and break up before Louis 18 birthday because person A was afraid of not being their soulmates. Louis goes to travel aboard so they don’t know about their mark. They meet again some years later when they’re in their 20...

W: Larry enemies to lovers: Both of them work for the same company and has the same job position but they hate each other because the first time they met it wasn’t “meet cute”. All their coworkers think they are similar and would make an amazing couple so they try to get them together. Most people don’t believe in soulmates anymore, they think it was a legend or maybe it’s not a legend and they’re soulmates?

X: Untraditional soulmates !! For example, a pairing (or poly) comprised of people who aren’t soulmates but are in love anyway. Maybe their “true” soulmates died or just didn’t work out for some reason. Maybe their “true” soulmates are platonic and separate from the romantic relationship. But ultimately the theme being something like “i am choosing to love this person” rather than the world telling them who to love :)

Y: Character A is a writer who pours their heart and soul into everything they write, though their focus on the soulmate trope is underappreciated. They go away on a writer's retreat to give it one last try and meet Character B, a person who seems to have stepped right out of one of their novels. Is this their soulmate or a figment of their imagination, or have they truly had one of their characters come to life?

Z: In a world where you see in color after hearing the sound of your soulmate's voice, Character A doesn't remember seeing in black and white. When they realize they're different, nobody can explain the reason. It isn't until they meet Character B, a stranger with the same affliction, that they begin to put things together. Or: A and B hear one another's cries as babies, changing their vision from black and white to color before they could possibly have realized it.

AA: Characters A & B somehow keep running into each other inexplicably all over the world. Maybe they happen to study abroad together then have a work conference in the same city then vacation in the same city, etc. Eventually they realize they've been seeing each other all over and maybe the universe is trying to tell them something.

BB: Louis gets a call from an unknown number from across the world. When he answers it, he's asked if he is a Mr. Harry Styles' previous employer and to give a recommendation on his performance. Amused, he pretends he is Harry's old boss and gives a glowing recommendation without knowing who he is. The job that this Harry is going for must be quite intense, because a few days later Louis is asked to fly out to interview in person to attest to Harry's character, where he ends up meeting Harry and falling for him.

CC: OT4/5 platonic soulmates with all the main characters being aro, ace, demisexual, etc. A soulmark appears when you meet a soulmate-- whether they're a platonic, romantic, or sexual soulmate(or sooner combo of the 3) is something each person has to discover for themselves. OT4/5 are grateful to find soulmates who are excited to experience beautiful and deep platonic relationships.

DD: Soulmarks are a trait that most humans have lost. Character A is a vampire who was born in a time when they were far more common. Imagine their surprise when they meet Character B, a human, whose soulmark complements their own.

EE: Larry: An AU where magic exists, Louis has always thought he’s a dark wizard and Harry doesn’t know if he’s a wizard or a normal human. Spoiler: he’s a wizard! They meet when they are 18/20 in a trip and they find more than themselves.

FF: Larry: Louis and Harry are friends of Zayn and Liam but they haven’t met yet. Ziam is having a wedding and their bachelor parties in Hawaii, they meet them.

GG: Louis and Harry haven’t met yet but they meet in a reality show that consists of traveling around the world. The rules of the reality show: Choose a person in the first program to travel with them (Louis and Harry travel together) and spend as little money as possible.

HH: Louis and Harry have been working in the same building for years but they haven’t met officially although they’ve seen each other around. They officially meet when their boss decided to do a work trip to Sydney

ii: Louis and Harry go to Orlando to visit the amusement park. They meet when they’re waiting in the queue for one of the rides and they spend a lot of time together because their other friends are tired of visiting different amusement park and they want to chill.

JJ: Famous/Non-famous larry: “Every time that you and your soulmate are in the same city, you’ll have a mark in your wrist. If one of you leave, the mark disappears” Person A is an actor who loves love but is tiring of two things: fake pr-relationships that make the general public believes that he’s not interest in having a soulmate and traveling. Person B wants to find his soulmate but he knows it’s not in his city so he’s traveling around. They have been in the same place several times but they haven’t met. How many countries will they visit until they meet?

KK: larry please: It is well known that the first time soulmates touch they leave a vivid mark on their partner's skin. Well one morning Louis wakes up with a bright stripe across his cheekbone and no idea what happened.

LL: hl au: harry is a well-known anthropologist from england but he’s requested to join the discovery of an ancient palace in mexico city. louis is a historian that has lived in said city for several years now, so he’s almost a local. the discovery they both take part of includes a blue greeny jewel that holds a legend about soulmates.

MM: Zouiam ot3 matching soulmate tattoos

NN: A and B are childhood friends and have known they're soulmates since they got their marks in their early teen years but they never develop romantic feelings for each other but they Do want to spend the rest of their life together. Bit of conflict / comfort.

OO: Lirry Shrek au. Harry Fiona has always expected their perfect soulmate to break their curse. Liam Shrek is tired of playing the role of the ogre and being rejected by prejuices. They meet.

PP: Zayn is travelling with his van, he picks up some hitchhikers along the way. They stargaze and bond with each other. They find out they are soulmates when some dangerous situation arises.

QQ: ot5 1d era au. A slowly finds out they are soulmates with each of the others while in the bus or travelling/staying abroad together.

RR: Ziam: In a world where magic exists but soulmates are rare, Liam and Ziam met in the same Magical College and have an instant connection. In history of magic, they learn about soulmates and Character A know that they (Ziam) are soulmates but he’s afraid and tries to avoid Character B all the time.

SS: Larry - Louis needs a break of his job and travels to a place where Harry lives and Harry needs a break of his past relationships. They meet in a pub and after too many drinks, they decide to do a road trip around the country. The author decides how people know who is their soulmates.

TT: Zouis: they discover they’re soulmates in Zayn’s wedding. Louis is the boyfriend of one of the best mates

UU: Larry - A reality show is trying to prove that soulmates still exist and Louis and Harry are participants in it

VV: HL Monday AU with Harry as Mickey and Louis as Chloe (but with a happy and not toxic ending please!)

WW: The voice you hear your thoughts in is your soulmate’s but you don’t know who they are until you hear them speak for the first time

XX: You’ve been sketching your soulmate’s face since you were old enough to pick up a pencil, the drawings become more realistic through the years as the day you meet comes near

YY: Red strings of fate au. Person A cuts their string. Person B is devastated to find their string has been cut but moves on with their life and finds love with, you guessed it, Person A who doesn’t believe in soulmates. When Person B finds out that Person A cut their string they’re so angry because they know how devastated they were to find their cut string. And Person A is confused at first because they thought Person B didn’t believe in soulmates either and didn’t realize that it was because they had no way of finding their soulmate. And then it hits Person A that there might be a slight chance that Person B IS their soulmate. So they nervously show up with their string and ask if Person A wants to see if the ends fuse together or not. Up to writer if the ends fuse or not.

ZZ: Person A reads tarot cards and while reading Person B’s cards, Person A can see that the cards are telling them that the two of them are soul mates

AAA: Soulmates can hear what their soulmate is singing. Harry grows up with a soulmate who exclusively sings a weird blend of Oasis, Green Day, and the odd Light Killers song. Louis grows up with a soulmate who mostly sings Fleetwood Mac and Peter Gabriel. They both hate their soulmates taste in music.

BBB: Every person is born with a golden string on their finger attached to their soulmate. Everyone but them can see it but it is considered highly rude to tell people without prompting (like taking away a coming of age experience). Or Harry and Louis fight a lot and everyone looks at them knowingly until one of them cracks and asks someone about it.

CCC: Character A runs a clothing boutique of some kind and one day uses a steamer too close to the smoke detector and sets off the fire alarm. Character B is one of the firemen to respond. Character A is very embarrassed that they did this in front of a super hot fireman, but the firemen are super nice about it. It just so happens they have to come back the following week for an annual inspection of the building and Character A jokes around/flirts with B. Soulmate aspect up to writer. (One idea could be matching soul marks?)

DDD: When soulmates touch for the first time, an electric shock goes through each person. They can’t touch each other without a shock...until they fall in love with each other. Too bad Character A & B hate each other and are not thrilled that when they touch by accident they finally feel the electricity they’ve always been waiting for.

EEE: The color of your eyes act like a mood ring and changes according to your soulmates' mood. The first time you make eye contact with your soulmate, they turn the same color.

FFF: Reluctant soulmates where one or both of them keep their soulmarks covered at all times because they want to fall in love without the person soulmates

GGG: AU where your soulmate smells like HOME only they’re both too dirty and disgusting to smell like anything other than yuck

HHH: Older Larry AU where they’re both in their 40s or older and still haven’t met The One. Embracing this, they each go on a trip alone, but wind up meeting

iii: Fleetwood Mac/ Rumours AU - Larry as Stevie and Lindsey, Ziam as Christine and John. A breakup and a divorce while recording and touring an iconic album. Endgame Larry. Lovers to exes to soulmates.

#soulmate prompts #mod post #33

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missjanjie · 3 years

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Prompts/AUs + Tropes

this time i separated aus and tropes, but the tropes are optional (for the sender and/or writer) so things dont get too complicated! send a ship + number/letter/second number :)

Prompts

“You look like an angel.”

“Shit, what time is it?”

“I wanna kiss you until I lose my breath.”

“I don’t have the time to waste on you anymore.”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“You were lonely and needed someone to lean on. I get it.”

“Here, take my kleenex, wipe that lipstick away.”

“When do I get my happy ending?”

“I’m not trying to be your friend, I’m trying to fuck you.”

“They don’t give a damn about me.”

“I can’t fix what’s fucked up.”

“You’re the only interesting thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Why are you so concerned with who I’m sleeping with?”

“Sorry about my friends, they’re obnoxious.”

“You’re not sick, you’re just in love.”

“We definitely should not have sex right now.”

“Was it worth it?”

“You have the prettiest smile.”

“There’s a fine line between a lover and a friend.”

“You’re the one thing in the world that doesn’t hurt.”

“That is wildly inappropriate. Let’s do it.”

“Is this really how you want things to end?”

“I don’t do birthdays, I just accept aging and ignore it.”

“You broke my fucking heart!”

“I can’t believe you fought for me.”

“When I’m with them I’m thinking of you.”

“So... I think we’re trapped.”

“Do I look like I have ever had a coherent thought?”

“Come back to bed, baby.”

“There’ll be no more crying, not from me.”

“You owe me a drink. You owe me so many drinks.”

“Every day, I love you more and more.”

“Did I ever mean anything to you?”

“I’m actually really happy to see you right now.”

“Believe me, I didn’t want to fall in love with you.”

“Run away with me. Tonight.”

“You left your underwear at my place again.”

“One of these days, you’ll have to stop lying to yourself.”

“Do you really think this is all a coincidence? Don’t be so naive.”

“Don’t start singing. For the love of god, don’t start singing.”

“So we’re just not gonna address the fact that you kissed me?”

“I had nowhere else to go.”

“You’re not listening to me!”

“Heard you were looking for me.”

“There’s something you need to know.”

“I guess I was hoping you’d chase after me when I left.”

“You know I can tell when you’re checking me out, right?”

“The fact that I can’t have you makes me want you more.”

“I thought you hated me.”

“What are you doing? Put your shirt back on.”

“I’m either going to kiss you or strangle you, I swear to god.”

“Is something burning? Or on fire?”

“I know it’s two am but you have to let me in.”

“You can hide the hickies, but you can’t un-fuck me.”

“I’m going to break my dry spell or die trying.”

“I made them a spotify playlist full of love songs. Is that obvious enough?”

“Could you shut up for one minute?”

“Oh my god, I think I like you.”

“We only have tonight.”

“I’m not going to wait for you anymore.”

“Do you have any idea how much self control it takes just to exist in the same space as you?”

“Nobody said it was a costume party, you heard what you wanted to hear.”

“I was stupid to think I could trust you.”

“Please try not to die while I’m gone.”

“How high did you have to get to come up with that one?”

“Knock it off, I’m trying to get work done.”

“I’m not that irresponsible.”

“I think you might be obsessed with them.”

“Let me help you before you descend further into chaos.”

“I feel like I’m too old to be dealing with a crush.”

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

“That look in your eyes means you’re in love.”

“I hate that your smug attitude is turning me on.”

“Trust me, you don’t wanna get involved with me.”

“I was happier with you.”

AUs

A. Soulmate AU B. College AU C. Royal AU D. Stripper/Porn Star AU E. Historical AU (pre 20th century) F. Modern Historical AU (20th century) G. Flower Shop AU H. Tattoo Parlor AU I. High School AU J. Hospital AU K. Secret Agent/Assassin AU L. Childhood AU M. Vampire AU N. Prison AU O. Coffee Shop AU P. Teacher AU Q. Mafia AU R. Hogwarts AU S. Bakery AU T. Superhero AU U. Circus AU V. Western AU W. Summer Camp AU X. Rockstar AU Y. Angel/Demon AU Z. Canon Compliant

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Enemies to Lovers

In Vino Veritas

Bed Sharing

Unrequited Love

Arranged Marriage

Party Games

Fake Dating

Secret Admirer

Accidental Baby Acquisition

Hurt/Comfort

Trapped Together

Green-Eyed Epiphany

Forbidden Love

“Five Things” Fic

Other (Specify)

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transromansanders · 3 years

Text

We Can Live Forever, If You’ve Got the Time: Chapter One: Roman’s Life Does a Backflip Unsuccessfully

AO3: Link

WC: 3,229

Ships: Rosleepxiety, Intrulogical, Moceit, Pintroverts

Warnings (chapter): homophobia, gun violence, minor character death, blood

A/N: Hey, So this has been in the works for a while. I’m finally in a place motivation-wise where I feel like I can get out at least the second chapter in a timely manner. Also! I’m looking for someone to beta read for errors in grammar and continuity. If you feel the urge to volunteer, please do so, I need help ;-;

Chapter 1 under the cut

"Daddy!" a small voice whisper-yelled. Roman groaned, rolling onto his back from his side. "Daddy!" the little voice whined. Roman managed a sleepy smile, but then little hands and knees were pressing into his bare chest and stomach.

"Oof! Emile, you little monster," he groaned, capturing the three-year-old in his arms and rolling back onto his side with Emile next to him, between himself and Alandria, who was snoring, her dark hair framing her face and haloing out on her pillows. Her steel-grey eyes were hidden behind closed lids, and she smacked her lips when Emile rolled over and poked at her face. Roman wished he loved his wife.

Roman spared a look at the alarm clock on his bedside table, groaning again at the time: 3:43 AM on a Monday. "Can we sleep a little longer, Bud?" Roman asked Emile tiredly.

Emile nodded, turning over to face his dad again and curling up against his chest.

Roman wrapped an arm around his son with a smile, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Emile's head. Then he dozed back off again.

----

Roman smacked at the alarm clock as it blared at him, whining softly. Finally, he managed to turn it off, and he began sitting up, rubbing at his eyes.

Next to him, Emile sat up as well with a cute little yawn and Alandria was running a hand over her face, looking at her husband and son with a little smile. "Good morning," she slurred sleepily.

Roman chuckled. "'Morning, sleepyhead."

"Mommy!" cheered Emile, crawling on top of her now.

She groaned a little, sitting up to hold him in her lap. Roman stood, bare toes curling for a moment against the cold white floor. The whole house was cold, cold and impersonal. Roman wished it was warmer. He wished Emile had a home, as a child ought to have.

He lifted the blinds so the sunlight could shine in.

Then he turned back to the bed, smiling. "I'm going to make us some breakfast. How does cinnamon toast sound?"

Emile cheered, and Alandria smiled and nodded. Roman clapped his hands together, grabbed a shirt, and headed to the kitchen, pulling the garment on.

Soon they were sitting around the table with plates of cinnamon toast with fresh fruit in front of them. Emile ate messily, getting strawberry juice and cinnamon-sugar all over his face and hands. Alandria got a wet paper towel and cleaned him up.

Then they were off, Roman and Alandria going to shower and get dressed, Emile sat in front of the TV with cartoons on until one of them got to him to make him put on real clothes rather than pajamas.

Roman showered and dressed first, in a pale red button-up, a black tie, and khakis with black leather shoes. Once he was done, he scooped up Emile, ignoring his protests and wiggling. "Come on, Emmy, gotta get dressed. Then you can ask Mommy if you can watch more cartoons."

Emile let Roman maneuver him out of his pajamas and into a shirt and some pants, giggling away the whole time. Roman poked his nose when he was done. "I bet Mommy's dressed now. Wanna go ask if you can watch more cartoons?"

Emile nodded vigorously and went in search of Alandria, while Roman poured a thermos of coffee to take with him.

Alandria and Emile met him at the door, off to run some errand or another.

"I'll see you tonight," Roman said, pressing a kiss to the top of Emile's head.

"Love you," Alandria said.

"Bye," Roman answered.

----

"Roman!" Patton Casey greeted.

"Morning, Pat!"

That was the extent of his usual personal interactions with the red-haired receptionist, though he relied heavily on Patton for matters of business.

He walked into his shared office, and his partner, Logan Hubbard, was, of course, already there.

"Did you hear about the execution tomorrow?" Logan asked.

Roman raised an eyebrow. "What execution?"

"It's a teenager. They say he was stirring up rebellion among the other youths. And he's openly gay," Logan mentioned. Logan was Roman's closest friend, and one of two people in the whole world who knew Roman's secret. But he had the exact same secret, too.

"Shit," Roman remarked. "Are we going?"

"You are scheduled to be there on behalf of the Governor's office, so yes, you are, but I am staying here," Logan answered.

"Damn, can we trade?" Roman asked.

"Not a chance in hell. Get to work, Picani."

Roman sighed and set about his daily tasks.

One thing that came across his desk caught his eye. An execution order for one Thomas Sanders, age 15… He signed it with a grimace on behalf of his boss, then scanned it and sent it to the other Governors' offices.

Soon lunchtime rolled around. He ate with Logan, and he longed for one of their nights out in the underground gay bars that dotted the bad parts of the city. He and Logan had tried the secretly dating thing, after Logan had started this job, when they'd run into each other at one of said bars. It hadn't worked out; they were better as friends. Today, they talked about how Emile had woken Roman early and different ways Logan had read about to keep kids from doing that. Logan did not have a wife or children; he just liked to read. And, truly, he did want to be a parent one day. That was one thing Roman knew about him from their drunken nights together in Logan's apartment early in Roman's marriage.

When lunch was over, they had a meeting. With Governor Baines. Roman hated those. Governor Baines was a thin, gaunt man with balding grey hair. His skin may as well have been grey, too, with how pale he was.

The conference room was grey as well, unrelentingly so. Roman and Logan each told him the notable things that had been delivered to the office. Governor Baines often asked in a dull voice what they had just said and if they could repeat themselves.

"Oh, and the Sanders execution order came in today," Roman said, trying not to wince.

"Sanders…" Governor Baines mumbled. "Tell me about this Sanders."

"He's fifteen years old," Roman told him. No reaction. Roman sighed. "He's openly gay and has incited rebellion among the kids at his school."

"I presume you signed it."

"Yes, Governor Baines."

"Good lad, Picano."

Roman frowned a little when the Governor got his name wrong. But he didn't correct him.

Then the meeting was over. The next several hours were filled with filing and organizing. Roman talked at Logan about a TV show he and Alandria were watching as they worked. When he finally left, giving a little goodbye to Patton, he was exhausted. It was a good job, but not a fun one.

----

"Daddy!" Emile cried as Roman opened the door, his tie loose around his neck. Roman laughed and bent down to catch the speeding toddler.

"Hi, Emmy! There's my little man!"

"Hi, honey!" Alandria called from the kitchen.

"Oh, let me help!" Roman offered, carrying Emile into the kitchen. "What can I do?"

"Get the chicken in the pan, babe?" Alandria requested.

Emile played on the floor as his parents cooked dinner.

"How was your day?" Roman asked when they were finally sat down to eat.

"Oh, fine," Alandria said. "We just did some shopping, then Emile and I worked some more on the alphabet, isn't that right, Em?"

Emile nodded excitedly. "I can go all the way to 'O'! Listen! A, B, C, D, E, F, um, G, H, I, J, K, um… M N O!"

"You skipped 'L', Baby, but very good job," Alandria said as Roman clapped.

Emile giggled and went back to his food.

Roman didn't know what else to say, nor did Alandria, and Emile was too busy eating to keep up the conversation. So the rest of dinner passed in silence.

When Alandria was finished, she wiped her hands and face on a paper napkin, then stood up. "Okay, Em, bathtime!"

Roman was going to offer to do it, but something stopped him. He wasn't sure what, just that they needed this time together, but he just finished his meal, letting them go. When he was done, he went and got into pajamas and got the show he was watching with Alandria queued up. Finally, he met Alandria outside Emile's bedroom to put him to bed.

They wrestled him into pajamas, Emile giggling and squirming the whole time. Then Roman scooped him up and dumped him on the bed, chuckling. "Okay, Monster. What story do you want tonight?"

"The Tortoise and the Hare!" Emile cried, and Alandria retrieved it from the shelf.

Roman opened the book and began reading in a silly voice. Emile yawned.

By the time Roman was done, Emile was sound asleep.

Roman quietly put the book up and crept out of the room with Alandria.

They sat down on the couch and started their show, the TV on a low volume. Two episodes went by before they decided to go to sleep, wordlessly. They crawled into bed, and Roman was out in moments.

----

"They're having an execution today," Alandria said the next morning after Roman had gotten dressed in his white button-up, khaki pants, dark red tie, and black dress shoes.

He had to wince. "I know. You're not taking Emile, are you?"

"Why wouldn't I? It's a part of life. He has to learn these things at some point," Alandria said.

Roman sighed and nodded. He didn't want to argue. "Maybe I'll see you there. I'm scheduled to go."

The drive to work felt long. He stared at the road ahead of him, feeling irritated for a reason he couldn't place.

Then he was walking into work, coffee in hand.

"'Morning, Pat," he said, voice a bit strained.

"Good morning, Roman," Patton answered, sounding concerned. But Roman had ducked into his office before Patton could ask.

"Good morning, Roman," Logan echoed Patton.

Roman just grunted, sitting down at his desk.

The rest of the morning went along monotonously. Then it was time for lunch. And the execution. He ate, but he didn't taste. He honestly wouldn't have had any idea what he was eating if it hadn't been labelled 'cranberry spinach salad'.

Then he drove to the Execution Courtyard. The parking was a nightmare, as always on execution days. He spotted Alandria's car.

It took him a little bit to find his wife and son, as they were toward the other side of the crowd from the parking lot. "Hi!" he greeted, taking Emile from his wife when the child reached for him with a squeal of "Daddy!"

It was about time for the execution to start. So where…? They were near the entrance where the guards would bring in the prisoner. That's when Roman realized what was happening. There was the boy, Thomas, and another guy, beautiful, with dark hair and sharp features, small and cute, but harsh-looking… and the guards on the ground, and a gun pointed at Thomas. The other guy was trying to pull the teenager away. The gun turned to him. Later, Roman couldn't have said why he'd done it. But suddenly, he was between the man and the gun, Emile gently placed on the ground next to him. And Alandria was between Roman and the gun before the guard had the chance to fire.

Roman, surprised to not be dead, covered in a spray of blood, and largely in shock, picked up his son quickly and cradled him close to his chest, not letting him see his mother on the ground.

"Come with us!" the dark-haired man hissed, grabbing Roman's arm and dragging him and Thomas through alleyways. Roman followed numbly, clinging to his son, who was crying in fear and confusion. They stopped in a dead-end alleyway behind some dumpsters. "Can you get that kid to quiet down?" their savior asked impatiently.

Thomas held out his arms wordlessly, and Roman hesitantly passed Emile over. The toddler quieted pretty quickly, sticking his thumb in his mouth and curling up against Thomas's chest.

"We stay here for two hours, 'til things quiet down, then our ride comes. Get comfortable," the other man said. He looked to be about Roman's age, now that Roman had time to really look.

"Who are you?" Thomas asked slowly.

The man held up a finger to his lips urgently, and several guards ran past their alleyway. A few moments passed, then he said quietly, "Name's Virgil. I work with some people who have a vested interest in keeping you alive, Thomas. Now, I want to know who he is."

Roman gulped. "Um, my name is Roman Picani… I work for Governor Baines's office… except I probably don't do that anymore."

"Probably not," agreed Virgil. "Someone, uh… Someone did get shot back there… Do you know—"

"My wife," Roman said, trying unsuccessfully to blink back tears.

Thomas gasped softly. "I'm so sorry…"

"Can we not talk about it in front of my son?" Roman requested, and Virgil nodded in agreement, looking away.

"Well, you'll be wanted now, Roman. Looks like you and the kid are stuck with us."

Roman nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "I just ruined my life…" he said softly.

"Maybe…" Virgil answered quietly.

"If it makes you feel any better, I ruined mine a few weeks ago," Thomas contributed.

Roman couldn't help a small, bitter chuckle at that. "So… what now?"

"I'll leave it to Patton to explain that," Virgil answered.

"Patton… Not Patton Casey?" Roman asked.

"Yep, Patton Casey. My big brother," Virgil said. "You already know him from the office, then."

Roman didn't know Patton had a brother. And apparently, Roman didn't know a lot of things about Patton, as he was to find out when Patton pulled up at the entrance to the alleyway two hours later in a non-descript black car.

Patton was surprised to see Roman and his son, to say the least. "V, what happened?"

"Almost got shot," Virgil answered quietly. "Roman here tried to take the bullet. His wife took it instead."

Patton covered his mouth with a hand in shock. "Oh, Roman, I'm so sorry."

Roman just took his son back from Thomas silently as they quickly got into the car.

"Well, um…" Patton said. "I guess… Welcome to The Resistance."

----

The Resistance headquarters was a dilapidated house next to Housing Development Number 1. Patton led them all inside, having put Thomas in a baggy hoodie so he wouldn't be recognized. They stopped in the kitchen. The walls were painted yellow, the cabinets were white, and the appliances were old. The backsplash was a gaudily painted tile, and the countertops were light blue porcelain. There was a battered wooden table with mismatched chairs in the corner.

"Alright, Thomas. You can take the room next to Virgil's and mine. Roman and Emile the one next to that," Patton said. "Sorry it's not that much, guys, but… it's what we have." He sighed. "This is always the hardest part. Settling in, getting all new clothes and things. Don't worry, Roman; we can get some toys for Emile."

Roman nodded, holding the now-sleeping toddler closer to his chest.

"You'll stay here for as long as you like, Roman. Until you're settled into this new life, then we can move you to another safehouse that's not so close to the action," Virgil said.

Roman raised an eyebrow. "Exactly how big is this operation?"

"Oh, we have branches all over the country," Patton answered. "This is just HQ for our province's branch."

"Who's in charge here?" Thomas asked.

"You're lookin' at 'im, Kiddo!" Patton said cheerfully.

Roman sputtered for a moment. Sweet Patton was the head of The Resistance in Shaw Province?!

"What?" Patton asked, directing his attention to Roman. He kept up his cheery demeanor as he asked, "Thought I was just the mild-mannered receptionist?" There was a hint of amusement to his tone. "Come on, we'll show you your rooms, then, um… then you can go take a shower, Roman," he said, gesturing for Thomas and Roman to follow him. "Virgil, send Gio or Perce to the store for clothes. Oh! What sizes are you guys?"

Thomas and Roman listed off their clothing sizes, then Roman told them Emile's size as well. Virgil wrote it all down on a pad of paper he grabbed from the table.

"Got it. See ya at dinner, Pat," Virgil said with a little wave.

Patton showed Roman his and Emile's room, and Roman laid Emile down on the bed. The room was fairly empty, aside from bookshelves. When Roman looked a little closer, he realized it was mostly banned books.

He turned back to Patton and Thomas in the doorway, and Patton looked nervous.

"Um, Roman, there's something I haven't told you…"

Roman bristled a little, unsure what to expect at this point.

Patton took a deep breath. "Your brother, Remus, he works with us sometimes."

"Remus… God, I haven't seen him in… years…" Roman mused sadly.

"I know. He told me," Patton said, sounding sad.

Roman nodded. "I… I need to rest…"

Patton nodded. "Of course. But shower first, okay? The bathroom is the door just across from this one. You can borrow some of my clothes for now. Should I wake you for dinner?"

Roman shook his head. "No, no, I'll eat in the morning," he answered.

Patton smiled worriedly. "Okay, well… I'll go get you those clothes!"

"Goodnight," Thomas said before he and Patton left.

Roman kicked off his shoes and sat down on the bed, petting Emile's hair; the toddler whined but didn't wake.

Soon, Patton was knocking on the door. Roman stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

"Thanks, Patton," he said as he took the clothes Patton held out to him.

"Are you okay?" Patton asked gently.

Roman nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, yeah, I just…" He sighed, running his free hand through his hair. "...What about Emile? What is he gonna do? I can't send him to school, he doesn't have his mother anymore, he can't go home…" The tears spilled over, and Patton was quick to hug him.

"Hey, hey, it's going to be okay, Kiddo," Patton said, rubbing Roman's back. "I know it's a lot, but it's gonna be okay."

Roman wiped roughly at his eyes. "Don't get me wrong, I'm… I'm glad Virgil is okay, I just…" He sniffled. "I've sacrificed my life for his."

Patton nodded sympathetically. "...Roman, do you believe that the government we live under is oppressive?"

Roman laughed bitterly through his tears. "I'm a gay man who's spent my prime married to a woman I didn't have any feelings for. I've signed death warrants for people like me and Thomas for a living for years. I know we live in an oppressive system."

"Maybe you should stay with us, then. Fight it," Patton suggested.

"I'd like to… I have to do what's best for my son… I just need to figure out what that is," Roman bemoaned.

"Well… We're all here to help. You're not alone," Patton assured him. "Shower and get some rest."

And Roman did.

For the second night in a row, he was asleep within moments of his head hitting the pillow, exhausted.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #roman sanders #roman centric #virgil sanders #logan sanders #emile picani #patton sanders #thomas sanders (character)#character thomas #remus sanders #i promise janus will be in the next chapter #blood #gun #gun violence #gunshot #minor character death #homophobia #roman writes

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