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kpop---scenarios · 4 years

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Soulmates...Funny Aren't They?(2)

Commissioned by: @kpopularstolemylife

Warning: Some Smut.

Word Count: 4.9k

The next few days, you ignored everyone's attempts to get a hold of you. Especially Namjoon and Jackson. To say you were confused would be an understatement. You knew Jackson wanted you, but would you be willing to settle for a person you were actually meant to be with? Not likely. You really did like Jackson, but knowing the fact that he wasn't supposed to be your forever bothered you. It wasn't something you thought you could ever get over.

"Y/N, I will bust down this goddamn door!" You hear a voice yell at you from outside your front door. "Open up!"

Namjoon. Shit. You should have known he wouldn't give you the appropriate amount of time before barging in on your one woman sulk show. Unable to help it, you mutter a few vulgar words at him in your head as you shuffle your feet through your dimly lit hallway to the front door.

"What?" You hiss as you rip your door open.

"Let's go." He scoffs, grabbing your arm to drag you to your room, followed by an amused looking Chaeyoung.

"What's she doing here?" You ask, turning your head to look at the smirking girl again. "She's taking pleasure in my misery, isn't she?" You scoff.

Namjoon turns back to look at a smiling Chaeyoung, who quickly goes stone faced once he sees his unimpressed look. "Stop it." He whispers at her.

"Yes, she is really relishing in your suffering. I apologize." He sighs, glaring at his one love, one more time.

"I wonder how much she would enjoy if I just took you away from her." You murmur, throwing a few daggers her way.

Namjoon laughs. "As much as I love you, we both know that's not going to happen."

He heads into your closet, pulling out whatever outfit he grabs first before shoving it to you, demanding that you go get dressed. With a pout, you do as you're told, heading into the bathroom to slip on a pair of jeans and a shirt, even though you most definitely didn't want too.

"Good." Namjoon says, placing shoes in front of you and giving you your purse.

"Where are we going?" You whine, wanting to get back onto your couch and die.

"Studio." Namjoon deadpans. "You've been holed up for too long. You're an award winning artist. Time to get back into the groove." He snaps.

"It's only been a day!" You protest, trying to plant your feet, without much luck.

"Pour it into a song. You'll thank me later." Namjoon grunts as he pulls you towards him.

He was right.

For the next few days you sat in your studio at Big Hit working out your anger towards the one who ripped your heart from your chest and stomped on it in front of a bunch of people. The one who was supposed to be your forever but had turned into a never. He hurt you, and you weren't sure if you would ever be able to get over it.

While you worked through your pain, you managed to end up with a pretty amazing album filled with songs about broken hearts, and revenge. At least one good thing came from this experience.

"Y/N!" Jungkook huffed as he pushed the door to the studio open, looking disheveled.

"What's going on?" You ask, a little startled.

"G Dragon..is.. here.." he lets out between breaths.

"Why?" You growl, squeezing your pen.

"Uhh.. Namjoon may or may not have agreed for us to do a song with him." He whispers, avoiding eye contact.

You could feel your stomach lurch at the horrible memory of rejection and the painful feeling of not being enough for him. Being nothing but unwanted by your soulmate was like having your heart ripped out of your chest and stomped on, but he didn't care.

"Why?" You manage to croak out, your throat dry.

Jungkook sighs as he looks at your painted face. “Look." He starts. "You and I both know what this business is like. But it’s just that, a business. I’m so sorry but, uh.. there is a possibility that Jackson here, too” he finishes in a rush, blowing you a small kiss before running out of the studio.

For fuck sakes.

You could just not fucking catch a break. One man who didn’t want to give up trying to get you, and another one who never wanted to try with you in the first place.

Standing up, you lock the door behind Jungkook who swiftly left after being the bearer of bad news.

You had somehow managed to avoid anyone but a select few interns all day, who’d so kindly kept you supplied with food. Looking at your watch and by the sounds of hunger your body was making you knew it was time to go. Pulling your phone out, your heart jumped seeing the missed texts and calls from Joon.

A text from Jackson… and a missed call and voicemail from Jiyong.

Ignoring all the others, you put it on speaker and played Jiyong's message: “Y/n….” it began. Too much. You couldn't. Quickly you stopped it, hands shaking, you weren’t ready to hear whatever he had to say.

Shaking it off, you Glanced over the texts from Joon, a consistent 'I know what you’re doing' and 'stop ignoring me'. You decided to keep

ignoring until he was in your face, which you knew would come soon. Packing up your things and shutting other things down, you begin walking out of the studio, when your eyes meet Jackson’s as he’s sitting down and across from the door.

“Have you been here all this time?” Your voice is sharp from being startled.

"I have. I've been trying to get a hold of you since that night. You never replied to my offer and I've been going crazy wondering what you were going to decide." He admits, looking at the ground.

"Jackson.." you sigh. You don't know what you want, to be honest. You want your forever, but maybe soulmates aren't meant for everyone. Maybe there are people who find their forever with someone who isn't their soulmate. Would there truly be any harm for you to go out on one date with Jackson? Probably not.

"One date." You say. Jackson's smile grows bigger as he begins jumping around the hallway, yelling out how you finally said yes. "Just one." You say, forcing back a smile as you walk away. You're not too far away from Jackson when you hear him whisper "that's all I need."

With a large smile on your face, you walked towards the front doors of the Big Hit building, feeling like nothing could tear you down. Until you saw him. You knew he was here, but didn't fully process the fact that he was real. He was walking with Jimin, both of them had big smiles plastered across their faces. Good to know he felt absolutely no remorse for what he had done to you.

You wanted to be over it. You wanted to say fuck him and move on, but he was your soulmate and everytime you saw him your heart hurt a little more. Jimin notices you almost instantly, and when he tries to make GD walk away quicker, you swore you could see a small smirk on his lips. He was enjoying your pain.

That motherfucker.

"Fuck him." You scoffed to no one in particular, pushing your way through the door to make a quick exit to your car.

The second you sat down, your phone dinged with a message.

[9:36pm] Jackson: Tomorrow night, 7pm. I'll pick you up, beautiful.

For the first time since finding the one who was supposed to be your soulmate, your stomach was filled with butterflies and it was from someone you weren't meant to be with anyways, what were the odds?

"Look GD, we go way back, you're a very good friend but Y/N is also a very good friend of mine and you're being a fucking asshole." Namjoon spits. "I love you man, but grow up. She's your soulmate, and you're crushing her. She locked herself away being miserable because of.." he trails off after being interrupted by Jungkook.

"She's not that sad anymore." He chuckles, reading your text again. "She said.. 'Date with Jackson tomorrow. What should I wear?" He chuckles. "I gotta go."

GD slumps himself back on the couch, crossing his arms. "I thought she didn't even like Wang." GD scoffed.

"She didn't. Until you were a douche and he was there for her." Namjoon says, shrugging his shoulders. "Make it right, man."

Jiyong sat there for a few minutes, lost in his thoughts. Were you really now moving on with Jackson? You weren't designed for Jackson, but whatever. It's not like Jiyong cared at all. Do whatever and whoever you want. He didn't care, you were a free woman. Absolutely free. So why did it make him feel so terrible?

The next day, the smile never left your face as you waited for your date with Jackson. The butterflies never left your stomach either. Jungkook had been a tremendous help with deciding what you should wear, how to do your hair and makeup. This was your very first date, you wanted it to be memorable.

"First date!?" Jungkook yells, his jaw dropping.

"Right? Which is why I'm terrified." You breathe as you pace around the room.

"Look, you'll be great. I gotta go, let me know how it goes." He smiles as he slips through your front door.

You and Jackson had been at the restaurant together for a total of 34 minutes and 16 seconds before someone you truly did not want to see walked in, and smiled at you. Jiyong. He waved to Jackson before whispering something in the ear of the hostess and sat at a table. Right beside yours.

"Fancy meeting you two here." He chuckles. "Friendly dinner?" He asks, knowing very well what it is.

"No. We're actually on a date." You spit.

"Oh! Well don't let me interrupt, I just came to have some dinner. Alone. Me time. Enjoy yourselves." Jiyong chuckles, looking at his menu.

"Anyways, you look absolutely stunning tonight." Jackson whispered, reaching over the table to grab your hand. A blush crept across your face as your eyes trained on Jackson for a few seconds before darting to Jiyong. You didn't want to look at him, frankly you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him, in your head. But your heart still fluttered when he was around. Your stomach was still cased with butterflies when you were around him or when you just thought of him. You couldn't win.

"Thank you." You smile. "You look so handsome." You finish, shyly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You could see Jiyong staring at the two of you from the corner of your eye and you hoped he suffered.

Over the course of the next few weeks, you and Jackson continued to see each other, although it was clear he was falling a little quicker than you. You were still stuck on Jiyong, but wanted to try to move on.

"Do you, though?" Namjoon asks, rolling his eyes. "I don't think you want to move on from Jiyong, and that's why you're having a hard time with Jackson." He finishes.

"H-How dare you!" You scoff. "You couldn't be more wrong. Things are just great." You say, crossing your arms.

"What's up?" Taehyung asks, walking into the living room with a smile on his face.

"Just talking about Y/N and Jackson." Namjoon says.

"Oh and how she can't fully commit cause she's still hung up on Jiyong?" He chuckles, looking at your shocked face. "We all know."

You knew they were all right. You knew that you truly weren't in a position to go anywhere further tuan friends with Jackson but you didn't want to break his heart. You had grown to actually really care for him, but the more you spent time with him and the more he tried to get closer to you, the more you realized you didn't want to be like that with him.

That night you invited him over to your house. Earlier you decided that if you were going to end whatever it was between you two, you needed to do it now and in person.

Knock

"Hey beautiful." Jackson smiled as you opened the door, moving out of the way to let him in.

"Hey." You kind of just whisper, following him to the living room.

"So." He says, sitting down on the couch. "What should we do tonight?"

"Look Jackson, I actually wanted to talk to you about something." You sigh, knowing this isn't going to be easy.

"Don't." He spits. He knows what you're going to say, doesn't he. "Don't end this."

"I'm sorry. I just can't do it anymore. I can't be with you when I know my heart belongs to someone else." You whisper.

"He doesn't want you." Jackson growls through gritted teeth.

"I know that. But I can't move past it. He's the one whether he wants me or not." You sigh.

"That's just dumb, Y/N. Why are you trying to ruin this? I will love you and treat you so right. He will do nothing but ruin you! Why can't you just choose me. I'm better for you anyways!" He snaps.

"Jackson.." you whisper.

"Just let me have one kiss. Let me kiss you and prove it to you that it should be me." He begs.

You slightly nod your head. Maybe it was the feeling of guilt that made you agree, or maybe you thought that one kiss from Jackson Wang would cure all your feelings for Jiyong, regardless when he placed his lips on yours, you felt nothing. There was no spark, no butterflies, nothing. You felt guilty, maybe even a little dirty.

You pulled away quickly, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Amazing." He chuckles excitedly. Did he have the same kiss? "Did you feel it too?" He asks.

"I'm sorry.. no. You should go." You say, a tear slipping down your cheek.

"No.. Y/N, you must have felt something!" He demands.

He won't stop yelling as you usher him towards the front door. "Don't do this! He'll never love you like I do. I'm the only one for you." He shouts.

Once he was finally out of your house and you had locked the door, he cried and banged on your door for awhile, while you sat in your living room and cried.

You were terrible.

A few days later, you hadn't heard from Jackson at all. Neither had Namjoon or the boys. A part of you was worried, wondering what he could possibly be doing, but the other part of you told you to leave it alone.

You pushed him to the back of your mind as you finished getting ready for the night. Tonight you were attending the Mama awards, with Namjoon as the song the two of you wrote together was being nominated for a few more awards.

Once you arrived, you excitedly sat in your spot next to Namjoon as you waited for the show to begin.

A few hours later, you leaned over to Namjoon, whispering in his ear that you were going to run to the bathroom and you'd be back. He mostly ignored you, too busy watching the group perform while you snuck off to the bathroom.

On your way back you were completely oblivious to the person behind you, until you were stopped from entering the room. You turned your head to see who it was, and of course Jackson had a tight grip on your arm, his eyes pleading with you.

"Can we talk? Please." He asks in a broken voice.

"I'm sorry,I should get back." You whisper, pulling your arm away only for his grip to tighten.

"You strung me along. It's only fair you hear me out." He snaps.

"I didn't.." you pause. "Let me go." You asked.

"Not until you talk to me!" He demands. You're very conscious of the people walking by, looking at the two of you, his hand wrapped around your forearm.

"I believe she told you to let go." You hear a voice from behind you, from the shivers running down your spine, you immediately recognize it.

Jiyong.

"Of course you're here." Jackson laughs, lacking humor.

"Of course I am, I am her soulmate, afterall." Jiyong smiles.

"Don't act like you care now." Jackson spits.

"I've always cared." Jiyong says.

"No you haven't. You couldn't have cared less about her. The one you're supposed to love, protect and keep safe. You ruined her!" Jackson sneers.

"I may have hidden my feelings in the past, but I'm not doing that anymore. She's the only one I need, want and can fully love. And I'll do whatever I have too to prove it." Jiyong says, looking at you with a small smile.

"So then let her choose. Y/N. Me or him?" Jackson asks. "Me, who will do whatever I can to make you happy and feel loved. Or him, who will only hurt you, time and time again."

"You know the answer to this. It's not even a competition." You say. "I'm sorry." You pause looking at Jiyong. "Jackson, it will never be you. Regardless of what we go through, I'll choose my soulmate, everytime." You say, giving Jiyong a small smile back.

"She is my forever, after all." Jiyong whispers, grabbing your hand to pull you away, leaving Jackson standing there confused and hurt.

"Wait.. wait." You say, yanking your hand from Jiyong's grip.

"What?" He asks, a confused look on his face.

He can't seriously not understand your hesitation.

"What kind of game are you trying to play Jiyong? What the hell was that? And why did I go along with it so easily?" You spit. "You don't want me! Why can't you just leave me alone." You sniffle.

"I meant every single thing I said in there." Jiyong deadpans. "Every last word of it. I love you. I am in love with you, and will always love you. I'm sorry it took me so long to accept it, and I'm sorry for how I've treated you in the past. I'll spend forever trying to make it up to you."

"Why the sudden change of heart?" You ask, crossing your arms.

"Honestly, Namjoon. He gave me a pretty good talking too which made me realize something. He also yelled at me, but I deserved it." He admits. "Can we please forget any of that happened?" He asks.

"Forgive me if I'm not quite willing to be with you after you told me you did not want me. It's hard to believe that you do." You snap.

"What can I.. " he begins before you cut him off.

"If you want to be with me, prove you're sincere and won't kiss me one night and humiliate me the next day." You finish, storming away from him.

That night you laid in your bed and cried, but not because you were sad. You felt guilty for being mean to Jiyong. Despite everything, you still wanted him to be here holding you and telling you it was going to be okay. You wanted him to try and show you he loved you. You still got butterflies when you thought about him.

Fuck, did you hope he tried.

Over the next few weeks, Jiyong put in a grand effort. He sent flowers to you everyday.

You sat in your studio with your head in your hands the next day, replying to the scenario with Jiyong over and over again. Were you stupid to give him a shot? You tried to date someone who wasn't him and it didn't work. So what else were you supposed to do? You had been so lost in your thoughts you almost didn't hear the knock at the door. You stood up, opening the door a crack only to be met with a face full of flowers. You opened the door more to show an apologetic looking Jiyong holding said flowers. He alternated days of sending them and bringing them himself.

A week after you had told him to prove it, he showed up to bring you lunch a few days a week. Told you he loved you multiple times a day, before he left, when he arrived, through text, etc. He took you on the best dates and always made sure to tell you how special you were to him.

"I hope you know how much you mean to me. You're so amazing." He tells you as the two of you lay on a blanket on the beach, hand in hand.

You loved it. But part of you was still nervous that it was just for show.

"You're coming to the Golden Disc Awards tonight, right?" He asks, bringing you out from inside your head.

"I am." You smile.

"Good. I have a surprise for you." He grins, making your heart melt.

"What kind of surprise?" You ask, raising your eyebrow.

"One that I will not tell you or give any hints about." He laughs, making you pout.

"I'm nervous." You laugh as his hand lands on your thigh.

"Don't be. I think you'll love it." He smiles. Over the last few weeks you have fallen deeper and deeper in love with this man, everything he had done in the past was almost completely faded from your memory, and replaced by only happy memories. When you had envisioned your life with your soulmate, these kinds of things were what you imagined, and you loved it.

Later that night you were sitting at your table, watching performances, clapping for winners and just overall enjoying your evening, until Jiyong got on stage. Your stomach dropped. You hadn't seen him all night but remembered him telling you that he had a surprise for you. You had no idea he was performing tonight.

"Hello!" He yells into the microphone, causing the crowd to go wild and himself to laugh. "I'm so happy to be here tonight, because well, I have a special surprise." He says, looking for you in the crowd.

"I'd like to ask a special someone to come up here and join me. Everyone please welcome L/N Y/N!" He yells causing the area to erupt in cheers and clapping.

Nervously, you stand up, unsure of what's really going on and make your way to the stage. Your stomach is in knots as you walk onto the stage, Jiyong standing there in his suit, a smile on his face with his hand extended towards you. He takes your hand, guiding you to a chair before sitting down himself.

"I'm not sure if any of you know this, but this beautiful woman sitting in front of me is my soulmate. The love of my life, my everything. And I've brought her up here because I wrote a little something for her." He smiles.

As Jiyong begins his rap for you, tears well in your eyes before spilling over and down your cheeks. Your tears fell through your closed eyes for the entire song, until the last sentence, where you felt like you couldn't breath.

You open your eyes to see Jiyong down on one knee with a ring extended to you, and he says into the mic..

"Will you marry me?"

Your mouth hangs open as the tears start flowing again. You can't speak as the crowd cheers even more.

All you can do I nod your head in excitement. Yelling yes over and over again in your head.

Once the show had come to an end, Jiyong took you back to his house where he had rose petals scattered across the living room floor, candles burning, soft music playing in the background, as well as champagne popped and ready.

"I love you so much." He whispers in your ear as he pulls you closer to dance with him.

"I love you." You whisper back, leaning in for a kiss.

Your lips attach to his and fireworks flare, butterflies go wild in your stomach. You wrap your arms around his neck as he pulls you in closer to him deepening the kiss.

Jiyong slyly slips his tongue in your mouth before trailing his hands down to cup your ass. You break the kiss, looking him in the eye, trying to catch your breath.

"We can stop." He says, knowing you weren't sure if you were ready or not.

"No." You smile. "Take me to the bedroom. I want you to make love to me."

"Are you sure?" He asks.

You stopped for a minute to think. Yes, you absolutely did want too but you also were nervous.

"Y-yes." You stutter.

"I love you." He smiles, making you feel at ease.

Jiyong takes your hand, guiding you to the bedroom. He takes you beside the bed before running his hands through your hair cupping your chin to tilt it up towards him. "So beautiful."

His hand leaves your face, grazing your face on the way down and around to your back to unzip your dress. Jiyong slowly pulls it down and you let the dress fall from your body, pooling on the floor, leaving you in a strapless bra and thong.

Jiyong hisses through his teeth.

"Shit baby." He groans, cupping your breast over your bra.

"Take it off ." You whisper. Jiyong unhooked your bra, letting it fall on top of your dress while you unclip his tie before unbuttoning his shirt.

You and Jiyong stand there completely naked, facing each other, admiring every perfection and imperfection of each other.

"On the bed." He demands.

You smile to yourself as you turn around and crawl onto his bed, laying on your back. Jiyong climbs on seconds later, positioning himself at your feet.

"Open your legs, wide." He says.

You do as you're told.

Jiyong lays on his stomach and spreads your lips with his fingers before leaning his head forward, licking a long strip up your already wet pussy. You throw your head back with a gasp as your hands grip tightly onto the sheets.

“Delicious” Jiyong murmurs before sucking on your clit.

“Fuck” you gasp as he moves from sucking on your clit to flicking it with the tip of his tongue. He slyly inserts two fingers inside of you, slowly pumping in and out as you squirm beneath him. Jiyong takes his time with you. He pauses his actions for a few seconds at a time, causing your orgasm to fade before he starts back up again, making you squirm. He knows you're close to cumming and uses it to his advantage.

After almost an hour of him teasing, you finally decide to beg.

"Please." You cry out, your back arching.

"No baby. You will cum by me making love to you for the first time." He whispers, a smirk on his face.

"Fine then." You smile. "First, lay down."

Jiyong does as he's told, freeing himself to do whatever you want to him.

You place your head over it, your mouth so close to touching it. Jiyong can feel your hot breath hitting his cock.

You bend your head down, sticking your tongue out and placing a tiny lick on his head with the tip of your tongue, causing him to let out a small aggravated groan.

"Please." He breathes. "Love of my life, please don't tease me like this."

You smile as you put his tip in your mouth, scuking lightly while moving your tongue around.

"Further." He pleads, but you don't listen. For a little bit, you alternate between little licks and sucking his head before you put it deeper down your throat, causing him to let out a massive moan.

"Enough baby." He cries. You pull his cock from your mouth, laying down on the bed beside him before he gets up, hovering himself over you.

Jiyong spreads your legs before lining himself up with you.

"Are you sure baby?" He asks, making sure you're comfortable.

"Absolutely." You breathe.

Jiyong slowly pushes himself into you, stretching you out.

"Ahh." You moan.

"Shit baby." Jiyong cries.

Once he's fully inside you, he leans himself forward, peppering kisses all over your face and neck as he whispers sweet nothings into your ears.

You moan as he slowly thrusts himself in and out of you, taking his time with you, making sure you're comfortable, ensuring you know exactly how much he loves you.

"Faster." You cry, an hour later, your orgasm finally almost reaching its peak.

Jiyong manages to get up, placing your legs over his shoulders as he begins to pick up his pace. He reaches his thumb in between your lips, rubbing your clit, bringing your orgasm on quicker.

"I'm going to cum." You cry out.

"Me too." Jiyong moans.

Within seconds, the two of you cum at the same time, your orgasm washing through your body while Jiyong spills himself inside of you.

You lay there for a moment, catching your breath with Jiyong laying beside you, his hand intertwined with yours. You spend the rest of the night tangled in the sheets with your true love.

Finally, you had your forever, and you had never been happier.

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fanficy-au · 3 years

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Not Enough Time | Deidara x Obito

Title: Not Enough Time For: Tracy Summary: Obito has tried to reject the idea of his soulmate for years, but as the day approaches closer he can’t deny the growing curiosity. Requested Word Count: 2000 Final Word Count: 2015 Rating: G Tags: Deidara x Obito, male x male pairing, soulmate AU, soulmate - timer AU View on A03 | Commission Me | Tip A Writer

Not Enough Time | Deidara x Obito

The timer has been there for as long as Obito can remember. When he was a child, he sat down and carefully, if a bit simply, told why it was there. His grandmother had filled him with idealizations and stories of finding his soulmate. She tried to make it something for him to look forward to and to not be discouraged by long numbers. He listened for what seemed like hours to stories of how she met her soulmate, how his parents met. He still remembers each story very well. It almost worked - it would have worked - until all of the other kids ignored him because they couldn’t read his timer; if it was not happening anytime soon, it did not matter.

As he got older, especially in high school, they explained it in more detail - followed afterward about sexual education. He paid more attention to the former than the later, he will admit.

The timer on his wrist, they had explained, counts down to when he will meet his soulmate. Like him, it is something that everyone has. They still did not explain as well as he had hoped though. No explanations as to why it was there. No questions were asked other than the typical high schooler questions of what if my soulmate is ugly? Which was reassured with it’s your soulmate, you’ll be paired with someone you will love. All ‘reassurances’ felt so empty to him, rehearsed and expected answers that were expected of adults that never actually answered anything; he never got a chance, or the courage, to ask the questions on his mind.

No one else seemed to have the same hesitation that he did. He first noticed this when some of his friends in high school ended up meeting their soulmate; some of the lucky ones had even met their soulmate as children. Always happy. Always excited. Always I have been waiting for you, you are just as I imagined. You are everything I have ever dreamed of. You are even more beautiful than I hoped for.

There was always rumors and chatter about each other’s timers, who may end up who if their timers were even a little bit similar. Some rumors are more scandalous than others. Some of them, ones whose numbers were short and easy to predict, did not even bother trying to date in high school, waiting for their ‘ one true love’. Others liked to dabble, to get experience so they knew what to do when they finally met them; those ones usually had decently long numbers with hopes of meeting their soulmates in college. There never seemed to be that much of a market for kids who just wanted to date; it was seen as pointless if they were not your soulmate (now being in the city, he is sure that most of that was small town thinking). So any hopes he had of gaining the sort of experience had hoped to were shot down fast.

Growing up, none of it ever reassured him the way he thought it would. Seeing so many soulmates meet and suddenly, viola, they are together the next day. Surely, if it worked for everyone else it would work for him, wouldn’t it? Then again, he never was like anyone else in other categories. Never athletic enough. Never good-looking enough. Never enough.

Instead he just grew anxious. He never understood the hype. The numbers on his wrist felt too long and the longer he had to wait, the more he grew sure that even his soulmate would not want him. What if he was not ‘everything his soulmate dreamed of?’ What if he was not ‘what they expected?’ What if he didn’t want to be suddenly with someone just because of his timer? What if he doesn’t like them? Or what if they don’t like him?

Or worse, Obito was sure that his soulmate had to be a man. What if they were expecting a girl or someone else?

Obito has learned, with time, that the best way to not be anxious about something was to simply not care about it.

Now, even at twenty-five years old, Obito still does not worry too much about his timer; or at least, he tries not to. He ignores it for the longest time, going as far as wearing sleeves or jewelry that covers the timer. He puts it into the back of his mind, trying his best to not even check how much time is left. If he pretends that it is not there, maybe it will not come true or maybe it will go away all together.

But at his age, the timer is quickly approaching its end. The last time he checked it, he nearly spilled his coffee realizing that it would happen so soon. Four days, five hours, six minutes, 45 seconds. It felt surreal that so much time had passed. That the number that seemed so far away, so out of reach as a small child, is finally approaching. He almost took off work for the rest of the week, just so he could stay home and lock himself away where he can’t possibly run into anyone. His boss, however, had very different plans that led him working so much overtime that he stressed about meeting his soulmate through work.

Of course, this was four days ago. Now, he has no idea how much time is left on his timer. A few hours maybe? Minutes? He bites at the inner cheek of his mouth. He taps his fingers against his desk. It takes all he can to not look at the timer obsessively all through the work day. He tries his best to focus instead, on all the work piling up in front of him.

But just as he is about to clock out for work, heart beating against his chest, he can no longer resist the temptation to look. His hands shake as he lifts up the edge of his sleeve, carefully moving his watch just enough for a small peek at the numbers.

15 minutes. 45 seconds.

He gags, glancing at the watch as if that may have a different time. He thinks wildly about what it is he is about to do and where to go. Will he meet them on the subway? No, he won’t make it there in time. Will he meet them at the coffee shop that he goes to on his way home? Maybe. Hopefully he won’t end up meeting them by accidently spilling something on them. Will it be someone just coming into the building as he is leaving?

Will his soulmate see him and leave? Get mad that it’s him? Will they be disappointed? Turn him away before he even has a chance?

Or will the timer hit zero and he will be walking down an empty street with no one in sight.

Just as his panic is reaching its peek, he hears his boss’ voice over the intercom calling him to the office. He quickly gathers himself together, fixes his tie, runs his fingers through his hair and hopes that there are no signs of his internal struggle.

The only good news, among all this chaos, in this situation is that he already knows his boss, which means the likelihood of meeting someone in his office is slim… right?

He tries his best to listen to his boss, he really does. Every word, however, goes in one ear and out the other. If he gets anything out of this, it is that he never quite got the chance to clock out so at very least he is getting paid for the long tangent that his boss rambles on.

He normally isn’t so disconnected from work like this - and admittedly, if it was something positive, he would be much more interested - but all he can think about is the timer on his wrist, ticking away while he sits in the office. He keeps an eye on the clock behind his boss, counting the minutes passing by, and the longer he waits, the more convinced he is that he was right that he never even had a soulmate to begin with.

Leave it to him to be the one whose timer goes off while his boss is rambling mad.

“-But,” his boss takes a deep breath - the first one in what feels like forever, “I have to say that your performance is exactly what this company needs which is why I’ll leave it to you to train our new associate. I trust that you’ll instill the same work ethic to him.”

“He will be completing his six week internship first,” his boss continues, “Then hopefully, we can add him as a permanent hire. With your training of him, we hope that can happen.”

Obito’s eyes widen, an immediate sense of panic rushing over him. He tries his best to cover it up as his boss stands to let someone into the room. He takes that moment to glance at the timer on his wrist. 10 seconds.

Whomever is walking through that door will be his soulmate - or should be, at least. He wonders if their timer will be going off any second now. He stands, double checks that his shirt is tucked in perfectly to make a good impression, and faces the door.

“Please welcome Mister Deidara onto the team.”

A man struts in, almost idly as if he is not nearly as concerned about the situation as Obito is. Blonde hair pulled back into a professional ponytail, sharp blue eyes glancing at his own wrist. Obito swallows thickly, not quite expecting him to get so lucky as to get someone so good looking. He can feel his face warming and hopes that no one else can hear his heart beating against his chest like a hard drum.

“Huh, what do you know,” Deidara says easily as he watches his timer hit zero before glancing up to meet Obito’s nervous gaze. It takes everything for Obito to stand still as Deidara gets closer to him, a flirtatious smile on his lips. Obito wonders if this is just a set up before Deidara does something like hit him or push him away. He braces himself for the worst, but it never quite comes.

Instead, Deidara looks Obito over carefully, lingering on certain aspects. The smile never wavers. If not for their boss not far off, who has kindly given the pair a bit of space, Deidara may have done or said something more dramatic.

“Look at you…” Deidara states instead, “Well, you’re quite the piece of art, aren’t you?”

He leans in closely, his mouth just by Obitio’s ear as he whispers, “ An absolute, ultimate piece of art.”

Obito’s blush reaches his ears and he tries not to scream when he feels Deidara’s breath against his neck. He almost jumps out of his skin, forgetting how to breathe for a moment as he tries to get his heart under control.

“Obito,” Obito shoves his hand out to greet him, nearly hitting the other man in the chest. He flinches at just how forced his greeting is and the fact that he can not think of anything else to do or say. He figures that his name is a decent start.

Deidara looks at him amused; Obito is thankful that at least the other man has not outright rejected him or worse, ran away. He imagines that it would not look good in front of his boss if he is the reason they lost the new hire. He will be lucky if this whole situation does not get him fired. Actually - he will be lucky if this situation turns out well at all for any of them. Especially him.

Obito holds his breath, waiting anxiously for an answer. Finally, Deidara takes his hand. Obito hopes that his palm is not too sweaty, not too clammy, but Deidara doesn’t seem phased as he grips his hand in a firm handshake.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Deidara grins, “Sorry it took so long.”

#naruto #fanfic #fic #deidara x obito #obito #deidara #male x male #myworks #myfics #commission #mycommissions

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xxbluestrifexx · 4 years

Text

Scripted - Choi Chanhee

Summary: Chanhee and Y/N never expected their soulmates to be foreigners, but neither of them were against the idea. It would open a window of opportunity for adventures that they couldn’t dream of as teenagers.

Characters: choi chanhee (new) x reader

Genre/Warnings: soulmate au, college au, foreigner au, fluff, angst if you squint

Words: 2.4k

Additional: Bold words are spoken in Korean

---

Chanhee was peeved. The elegant script on his wrist didn't remotely resemble the harsh lines of Korean characters, rather the curly and exaggerated letters of the English language. How could fate be so cruel, to match two people who may not ever meet? It was a tragedy. But what really made him upset was that he couldn’t even read his soulmate’s name.

On the other hand, Y/N was very excited when the ink appeared on her wrist. All of her friends were complaining about how basic and common the names of their soulmates were, narrowing their chances of finding the right person. But not this young girl, no, her soulmate wasn’t a James or a William. He was exotic, someone who’s name that she’d have to study to be able to learn; and she loved the challenge.

Chanhee’s soulmate’s name had made itself known when he’d turned sixteen, almost dead center of his high school career. At this point, he’d completed his required language credits with two semesters of Japanese, and it seemed that he’d have to sacrifice his extra choir classes for English ones. It’s not that Chanhee was off-put by the fact his soulmate was different, he was actually quite excited. He just believed that the romance may have been doomed before it had even begun because of the distance. There were too many ‘what if’s’ to factor in, and it made Chanhee’s heart hurt when he thought about it too much. All of the heartache was left behind when Chanhee was first able to utter the name on his wrist.

Y/N L/N....

Y/N’s wrist had also been inked when she’d turned sixteen. Unlike the sprawling cursive that she’d seen adorn the wrists of her friends and family, Y/N’s wrist was characterized with dark lines and odd symbols that she couldn’t decipher. It was puzzling to say the least, but the scowl had quickly turned into a smile. Unlike Chanhee, she hadn’t fulfilled any language credits, leaving the challenge of learning Korean right open. It took her awhile to figure out that the language was indeed Korean, believing it to be Chinese first. But eventually the symbols matched to letters and the words all fell into place…

Choi Chanhee…

Both people were giddy with excitement, continuously mouthing the name of their soulmate over and over, ingraining it to memory. They threw themselves into studying the other’s language, losing sleep some nights just to perfect simple sentences. By the time Chanhee had graduated high school, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind about attending an English university. He applied all over the world, applications being sent out to America, Great Britain and even places in Asia that had good exchange student programs if going abroad failed.

Unfortunately, Y/N had the same idea. She applied to every major university in South Korea, hoping to god she’d get in. She had other colleges in mind too; ones with good Korean History majors with exchange programs. The pair got their acceptance letters on the same day, shock written all over their faces. Out of every university, they each only got accepted to one choice; it had to have been fate.

Chanhee spent the summer studying English for his first semester at NYU, anxiously trying to master as much as the foreign language as he could. Y/N took summer classes at UCLA to brush up on her Korean, the acceptance letter to Seoul National University tacked to her cork board the moment it had come in. Both were anxious, hoping and praying that fate would give them a chance. To Y/N and Chanhee, the single acceptance letters meant a meeting, a one out of a hundred chances that they could be together.

Chanhee’s bags were packed and loaded into his family’s car by 7:30 am that August day, his flight leaving at approximately 8:45 and headed to New York. The time difference was messing with Chanhee’s brain the deeper he thought about it; He would technically land at 10 am on August 7th, the same day he departed his home in South Korea, but yet almost fourteen hours ahead. Regardless, Chanhee found himself settled into a less than comfortable economy class seat on a plane that would hopefully take him to his soulmate.

Y/N didn’t get any sleep on August 6th; there was honestly no point. She would have to leave her childhood home shortly after midnight to catch her 1:30 am flight to New York. There wasn’t a huge difference between Los Angeles and New York, her flight putting her in the state a little after 10 am. The flight wasn’t long, around five hours if she was lucky. The flight to South Korea that would follow would be hell; she didn’t know how on earth she’d be able to stand a fourteen hour flight. She’d have to count on lots of sleep.

--- Y/N’s POV - 10:34 am ---

JFK International Airport was just as big and noisy as I’d expected it to be. Too bad I had a headache and couldn’t appreciate the full beauty of New York City. Every corner I turned had people from different parts of the globe at it, their native languages adding to the endless chatter that bounced off the walls of the airport. I got to baggage claim a little bit after 10:30, spotting my mustard yellow suitcase from a mile away. My smaller plastic case covered in stickers ordered off of Amazon conveniently laid next to it. After successfully attaching the small box to my suitcase, I took off towards the shuttles, catching one before it had shut its doors.

I took a seat and pulled up a map on my phone, trying to figure out where the seating area and terminal were for my next flight to South Korea. Sighing to myself when I saw they were on the opposite side of the airport, I shut my phone off and closed my eyes. So much for the idea of stopping for breakfast.

--- Chanhee’s POV - 10:42 ---

Baggage claim had been a nightmare. I’d frozen at the sheer amount of English that I hadn’t heard which area his suitcase would be dropped off at. A business-looking woman had kindly told me in broken Korean as we exited the terminal. I thanked her profusely before running off in the opposite direction, following the many arrows and signs meant to direct me towards the baggage claim. In the end I found it with just enough time to claim my silver suitcase before it disappeared through the chute. I sighed with relief, the voice in my head had been dreading having to go to a help desk and attempt to explain the situation.

The shuttle was practically empty of people heading to the main building of JFK International Airport. It was easier on me this way, I could read everything and fully absorb information without crowds of people getting in the way. As I exited the shuttle, luggage dragging across the ground behind me, my neck tingled slightly. It was like a breeze had come through and raised the hairs on the back of my neck. I couldn’t describe the feeling, it was overwhelming yet not in so many different ways. Unfortunately the moment was ruined by the ringing of my cell phone. I sighed and unlocked it, answering the call and putting the phone to my ear.

--- Y/N’s POV - 10:49 am ---

I ambled around the main expanse of the airport, looking for my terminal and any fast-food restaurant that could fulfill my stomach without making me miss my flight. I’d already passed through airport security, the process much quicker here than back home in LAX. I scanned the faces of so many people, trying to find one that looked friendly enough to go up to. If I could just find someone who might know where the Asian airlines were, I could save myself a trip to an Airport Help Desk that could take more time than I was willing to sacrifice.

As I strutted along I caught the ending of a conversation in Korean. I listened for a moment to confirm I was indeed comprehending the language and turned to pinpoint the source of the conversation. About ten feet away stood a guy; He was taller than me, with a skinny and lanky body and thick brown hair that resembled a mullet if you squinted. He was speaking rapid Korean into his phone, pushing hair out of his face, his soulmate tattoo peeking out from under his sleeves.

In a moment of desperation, I made my way over to him, hoping that he had indeed just come from Korea and would know which shuttle I could take to find my terminal. It really did seem silly, fully aware that I was choosing a person who’s language I was still learning over any other passerby who could comprehend my native tongue. But something in the back of my mind was urging me to go to him, to speak to him. I reached him just as he had seemingly hung up on the phone, his hand tucking the device back into his pocket.

“Excuse me, could you tell me where terminal T18 is?”

I spoke slowly, hoping that I’d gotten every pronunciation and word correct. He stared at me in stunned silence, his mouth gaped open. After a long pause, he regained his consciousness and responded in Korean.

“Maybe- try taking that shuttle over there. I’m pretty sure T18 was near where I came from.”

--- Third POV - 10:50 ---

Chanhee honestly couldn’t believe that his first interaction in America would be in Korean. He was so ready to speak English, pushing all the doubts of his pronunciation and accent down. But here he was, speaking in his sharp Korean to a complete stranger, a foreigner no less. Though, he supposed, he was the foreigner now.

The girl bowed briefly and thanked him, turned to re-grab her loaded down suitcase and head to the shuttle loading area. She was beautiful, Chanhee thought. Her piercing (e/c) eyes and her expertly tied up (h/c) hair. The light makeup she wore suited her, and the form-fitting leggings accented the muscles in her thighs and calves well. He didn’t mean to shamelessly check her out, but it was hard not to appreciate true beauty when he saw it.

In the split second the girl went to walk away his hand shot out and grabbed her forearm. Both of them were shocked to say the least; Chanhee’s thoughts were very muddled when he met her eyes. Just as she was about to speak, Chanhee beat her to it in his best English.

“Where are you going?”

The girl seemed puzzled, and looked down at the grip he had on her arm. Chanhee immediately released her and stepped back, allowing the girl to take him in fully as well.

Y/N was shocked when she felt the hand stop her from advancing forward, and even more shocked when the stranger asked her a basic question in heavily accented English. She was torn between talking to the very handsome stranger and getting to the terminal early. She examined the time on her watch, the digital face telling her it was 11 am before meeting the eyes of the man and responding.

“I’m going to South Korea, I��m attending college in Seoul.”

Chanhee seemed surprised by the answer, though he didn’t know what he was expecting coming from someone he happened to stumble across in the airport. He supposed that this meeting was a chance, a Korean-speaking American stopping and asking an English-speaking Korean for directions to her terminal. They thought made him pause then smile, wondering if this had been fate.

“What’s your name?” Chanhee asked quietly, the ghost of a smile on his lips and hope in his eyes.

“Y/N.” She responded, turning towards Chanhee questioningly, still not catching on to what was happening. “What’s yours? What brings you to New York?”

Happiness. Joy. Excitement. These were all the emotions coursing through Chanhee. Y/N, a face to the words scrawled on his wrist. There was no doubt in his mind that this was his soulmate; that this was his home.

“My name is Chanhee, nice to meet you! I’m in America for college as well.”

The look of shock that crossed your face when you processed his words would stay in his mind forever. The way Y/N’s eyes sparkled with tears, and the way her lips curved upwards into a brilliant smile. The airport seemed to quiet around them, as if time was frozen in this moment just for them.

Y/N was shocked; She didn’t think that this chance meeting would be the one to bring her and her soulmate together. She thought that meeting Chanhee would have occurred in a class or perhaps at a small coffee house near campus. Never in a million years was Y/N prepared to bump into Chanhee at JFK International Airport the day before she would start a new life in South Korea dedicated to finding him.

The pair smiled at each other, taking in the sight before Y/N unexpectedly threw her arms around Chanhee, pulling him into a tight hug. After a moment of processing, Chanhee wrapped his arms around Y/N’s waist and laid his chin on her head, laughing at the gesture. They pulled back and stared into each other’s eyes just as reality cut back in.

“11:30 am flight to Seoul, South Korea at T18 is boarding, repeat, flight to Seoul at T18 is boarding now!”

Chanhee’s mind was frantic, whipping his head back down to search Y/N’s face. Surely she wouldn’t leave him this quickly after meeting? Then the thought occurred to him, that she would have to leave eventually. Her tuition and expenses must have already been paid for the year in Seoul, not to mention the plane ticket fee that would go to waste if she didn’t leave right this moment. His face grew somber, laying a hand on Y/N’s shoulder who seemed to be deep in thought.

“What are you all sad about? Did someone die?”

“You need to go, your flight is boarding...”

Y/N smiled, resting her own hand on top of Chanhee’s, “I’m not going anywhere for quite some time Chanhee.”

fin.

#the boyz x reader #the boyz drabbles #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz new #the boyz new x reader #the boyz chanhee #the boyz chanhee x reader #choi chanhee #choi chanhee x reader #choi chanhee soulmate #the boyz soulmate au #the boyz new soulmate #soulmate au #new soulmate au #chanhee soulmate #chanhee soulmate au

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heli0s-writes · 5 years

Text

IV. A Commitment*

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary: Natasha teaches you how to kiss. Tony gives you an opportunity. A/N: Part 4 of Mystery of Love. . (*) denotes NSFW!!

At 23, you were struggling to have a conversation about … it.

It was almost three weeks since your moment on Steve’s couch with him and Bucky. Their touches on your skin haunted you day and night, and it made your work at the compound significantly more difficult than you could have ever imagined. It was hard to find clarity under such zealous and watchful eyes, and the distance you continued to keep them at would eventually be thwarted. You had to ask Pepper for an extension on your assignment mid-May before it got too out of hand. She happily obliged, very understanding of your predicament. The deadline was extended indefinitely, but having no schedule threw you further off course.

In an effort to control at least your personal life, you allowed yourself to spend time with Steve and Bucky in small bursts, intent on not repeating another couch-event. They each had very different approaches of being in your presence, you found out. Steve was happy to accompany you to galleries and the store if he was already in town- which he often was whether it be by coincidence or intention.

You took walks with him through the park, had coffee together, read the paper, and laughed at the comic strips. You’d go to bookstores where he’d browse non-fiction and history while you showed him some of your favorite art books, teaching him about famous artists and their vision. Your conversations were light and full of laughter.

Once, he met you at a local bar and you discovered his passion for sports- one you didn’t share but were happy to appreciate. You didn’t even know the championship game was going on that day and in the middle of it it’d become so rambunctious (someone recognized him!) that the two of you had to run out before it could conclude.

Physically, Steve was rather indulgent of your reservations. He’d hold your hand in private and brush his fingers over your knuckles in public. More than the touches, it was his gaze that sent your blood rushing. He perfected that slow lingering sweep with his eyes. There was no fervent message to be analyzed behind those blue-green gazes—only a simple feeling. And that feeling he held for you was incomprehensible. It swept you away.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to be physical or intimate because you loved the feel of the pads of his fingers and his callused palms. Or that smooth line of his winning smile, tilting upwards on one side. You constantly thought about those rough edges of Steve Rogers on your body.

It was rather that you were so fearful of crushing all the eggshells under your feet labelled “Steve and Bucky’s Tentative and Healing Friendship”.

Oh, you knew about The Winter Soldier and HYDRA. You’d gotten the quick and dirty version from Steve after your initial meeting with Bucky; the wipes, the assassinations, the complete and utter control they had on him for 70 years. The image of him in ice seared itself into your brain, the thought of them putting him up when they were finished using him killed you.

You weren’t just heartbroken, you were livid. You couldn’t help but take it so personally and you couldn’t quite explain why to Steve as you sobbed uncontrollably in the kitchen that morning except rasping breaths of goddamn it, oh god, Bucky. By the time Bucky returned from his run, your eyes were swollen and pink, bottom lip nearly chewed through.

You buried your face in his chest and whispered that you were happy to have him in your life and nothing else. There couldn’t be anything else yet. He was still raw, and you couldn’t tear him open any more.

Spending time with Bucky was significantly different, and a much more delicate task than Steve. He was hesitant to go into the city, a choice you understood completely so you never asked. Instead the two of you spent lots of time on separate sides of couches with tea and a book, careful not to sit too close. He’d gladly sit with a movie on while you worked on editing your many files.

After travelling for so long, you wanted to pick up your old hobbies again, so you started to make small meals at the compound. Bucky was hardly a cook by any means, but always seemed to know when you needed an ingredient from the cupboard and before you could fumble to reach for it, he’d have already set it next to your hand.

The conversations were short, and as you expected, he never divulged anything meaningful. After you had the talk with Steve, Bucky often sent you precarious glances, worried you might lash out because of his past. When you carried on as usual, the weight lifted from his shoulders.

Bucky was more physical, to say the least. He tried to respect your boundaries, but it wasn’t unlike him to push them from time to time. Unlike Steve’s tender gazes, Bucky stared intensely and openly. There were many a time when you’d look up from your book to see him on the other side of the sectional, staring straight through the pages and right at your face. His fingers would be tapping on his knee. When you’d finally see it and swallow nervously, he’d smirk and look back to his book.

Or you’d sit on the floor with your laptop open on the coffee table and Bucky would have silently moved from his supposed area on the couch to directly behind you. He’d lean over close, so that his breath would tickle your ear and ask you innocently about the picture you were working on. It never failed to send shivers up your spine and elicit wide, devilish grins from him.

It was his favorite game. It set you on fire.

And so it was that you attempted to balance your time with both men, as they navigated their own schedules of work, training, and rehabilitation.

You also tried to retain any semblance of your employment to Stark Industries.

You snapped pictures here and there, trying your best to maintain the illusion of your contract. There were some exceptional ones of the interior but photographing the Avengers themselves was challenging. Especially when it came to Bucky. He could sense any time you were in the room and strictly refused to ignore your presence. There were no candids taken of Bucky Barnes; he simply did not allow it. He never stopped staring at you.

At the end of May, you put the assignment on pause and decided instead to focus on the photos from your travels. Pepper kindly put up a room for you so you didn’t have to make the trip to and from the compound, but you were afraid that being in such close(ish) quarters with Steve and Bucky would lead to complications. She was very understanding at your hesitance and careful not to pry but left the offer open if you had any questions. You contemplated asking her, but in the end decided to save your queries for someone less motherly and more straightforward.

When you turned up at Natasha’s room, she hardly seemed surprised. She had two Irish Mules set on coasters on the small coffee table. You took a sip, licking your lips at the lime and ginger beer; she could really make a drink. It would have been bad to get drunk quickly and spill all your secrets, but there was something about her presence that was tossing out all pretense. You supposed the phrase, “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter” was especially applicable with Natasha.

The first query slipped out before you could catch it.

“Does it hurt?”

The right corner of her lips lifted, but her eyebrows raised in sympathy at your innocent question. It was a valid one, of course, and it was right of you to ask it. Natasha assured you that discomfort is normal at first since you’d never experienced it before- but that they both should be treating you respectfully, kindly, and lovingly. She restated that there was nothing wrong with taking it slow, finding your own pace and easing into it, and doing what you feel is comfortable.

When you told her you’d never kissed anyone before and that Bucky sucking on your finger probably didn’t count, she sputtered up a bit of her cocktail mid-drink. She didn’t specify whether it was because you’d never been kissed or if it was the... other thing.

“I don’t even know how it works. There’s two of them.” You’d been stuck on it all month. You’d have to decide in the end, and sure, maybe Bucky wasn’t jealous when Steve kissed your hand or when you’d go out with him but what if they started fighting about who got to do what with you. It wasn’t like they were each others’ soulmates. You complained to Natasha more freely at the end of your mug.

What if they didn’t like how you looked?! What if you were bad in bed? What if they got bored after seeking the physical aspects? What if that was all that became of your relationship?

She had listened to your rambling briefly but became determined to put a stop to the madness and set down her drink.

“You have to stop being so crazy, those two are closer than you or I can imagine. You might need to be convinced about the validity of being Soulmates, but those old boys do not. They have committed.”

There was that word again, you thought.

“And, if you’re so worried about your first kiss...” A single red brow raised itself high up her forehead, “I can show you. No more worrying about who kissed you first.” Natasha set her copper mug down with a definitive clink.

It might have been the drink that was making you brave, or the desperation of wanting some relief to your constant distress, because you eagerly said yes. Natasha had brushed back loose strands of your hair with her hand and propped herself up on her knees. She hovered over you, letting her locks fall over your face.

“Is this okay?”

You nodded, captivated. You could feel your eyes fluttering as she lowered her lips to yours in a single tranquil movement. Her warm breath pleasantly caressed your mouth as she kissed you. Natasha’s lips were soft and full, velvety with every parting and descent. One hand came to cup your jaw, pulling you closer and deeper into her motions. You didn’t expect the sound your mouths made against each other- the smacking was half disturbing, half arousing.

She had seemed like a good kisser, but it was almost a clinical experience, whether it was because it was a learning moment from a friend, or if it was because you were so concentrated on memorizing Natasha’s actions, that made it not quite enjoyable as the movies tried to portray. There were no string quartets harmonizing in the background or doves flying, only the lax pulse of your heart in your own ears.

When she finally pulled away, you were expectant for another one; you wanted to learn. She cocked her head at your silence.

“How was it?” You had thought about it for a second before answering truthfully, “Noisy...”

Natasha howled with laughter. When she gathered herself enough to speak again, her raspy voice was slightly a little more hoarse than usual.

“Kid,” she gasped, “The noises are the best part, trust me.”

The unexpected statement made your abdomen clench. You vaguely wondered what kind of noises Steve and Bucky might make, but hurriedly squashed them. Linger on that one for too long, and you’d burst.

After another half hour of fielding questions, she finally sent you back to your quarters with a flash-drive in hand, disclosing to you that it was her personal collection of “friendly” pornography- which made your entire body flush crimson. It was for you to watch, explore, fantasize about, and maybe get some ideas before the day arrives. Before opening the door, Natasha called your name sternly.

“Remember when I asked you if it was okay before I kissed you?”

You nodded.

“There is nothing wrong with that. In fact, they should be asking you. Porn does not capture all the real-life shit that happens during sex. There is nothing embarrassing about asking questions, voicing your needs and desires, and talking to each other. You’re not going to be awesome at it the first time. But you’ve got the rest of your life to practice.”

You thanked her sincerely. There was nowhere else that you were going to receive this kind of lesson and you really wanted her to know. Natasha shooed you out of her room, pointing to the flash drive gripped tight in your fist.

“Go rub out some good ones for me, okay?”

With a wink and playful slap on your ass, she promptly kicked you out but not before deftly tucking a flask of whiskey under your arm. You shoved the deviant things as deep into the pocket of your jeans as possible and wandered to the guest room Pepper had set up. You often took naps in there, and it would have been a better idea to go home, but you were strangely eager. Bucky and Steve were in the shooting range this evening, so you hoped they’d be fully distracted with loud gunfire and not sniff you out with 100 gigabytes of porn in your pocket.

Once safe in the comfort of the room, you tentatively launched a window on your laptop, headphones jacked in, one bud hanging loose. Your door was locked all the way, and you had wiggled the handle thrice just to be safe, satisfied when nothing budged.

Natasha’s files were categorized into multiple folders and subfolders. You made a mental note to thank her for such thorough and thoughtful placement of the videos, sorted and titled by extremely efficient keywords. She had a deliberate folder of multiple threesome videos, just for you, and you promptly decide to never bring it up any of it. Reading the titles alone made your legs tingle; your mind couldn’t help but automatically fit Steve or Bucky in the fantasy.

You fired up the first video, reaching over to the small nightstand to inhale two fingers of whiskey for good measure. It burned your insides going down but became a relief when it took your mind off the fire in your cheeks at the performance unfolding on your dim screen. Once again, your brain replaced the two male actors with your respective soulmates, and yourself as the woman sitting in the middle of the bed.

Of course you’d masturbated before, you weren’t a nun, for crying out loud; some bodily tension could only be relieved in a certain way. And it just so happened since the Binding, you were in the habit of doing it much more, anyway. It was difficult to spend all day with Bucky’s burning gaze and Steve’s feather light touches and expect yourself to immediately fall asleep...

Your phone lit up as two large hands caress the actress’ shapely thighs.

Tony’s face blinked on the screen. You ignored it, concentrated on thick fingers peeling the flimsy material of a lacy bralette down. Open-mouthed sloppy kisses begin between the woman and the man on the left as the one on the right cups the breast closest to him in a firm hold. You imagined a ghostly touch on your own chest and shuddered. One hand imitated the actions between the woman’s legs: feather-light touches interspersed with solid grips. The tickle creates chills that crawl all over your skin.

Tony face blinked again on your phone.

You fixed your posture against the headboard of your bed and flexed your legs, straightening them for a more relaxed pose. Your palm traced over the slope of your thighs as they dipped into a valley in the middle, slowly you brought your other hand to your chest, following the line of Steve’s Words. Bucky’s eyes flashed in your mind when one of the men catches the woman’s fingers in his mouth in a hard suck. The woman’s free hand and palms the opposite man’s crotch, rubbing slow circles around the tent in his jeans. He sucks in a low hiss of air and groans lightly, a profane word wiggling its way out of his mouth. In your left ear, it sounded like Steve.

F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice filling the room sent you into shock.

“Mr. Stark is requesting your presence in the living quarters.”

In a panic, you slammed your hands down on the keyboard of your laptop multiple times, silently screaming when the headphone jack falls out and there’s moaning repeatedly being paused and played in the darkness of your room.

“How does he--”

“Mr. Stark had me do a sweep of the rooms to find you.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.!!”

“Mr. Stark does not know what you are watching.”

You grumbled, accepting the interface’s comment. Sometimes it was hard for you to remember that she wasn’t an actual person since she so often responded in very human ways, including predicting your source of embarrassment. You flopped down on the bed, muffling your face in the soft comfort of your pillow, catching the smell of your whiskey-sour breath.

“Please tell Mr. Stark I’ll be coming,”

“That's an interesting choice of words, ma’am.”

Another scream was muffled in the pillow before you trudged your body out of the guest room.

As soon as you stepped foot into the gathering space, a tiny firework was popped in your face, colorful confetti flying from it into the air and scattering itself in your hair. You shrieked, naturally. There were some cheers and whooping from those in the room: Steve, Natasha, and Pepper. Your heart was pounding in response.

“Hey kid! Congrats! I got some news for you.” Tony beamed widely, slapping both hands firmly on your shoulders, “What is that, whiskey? Do I smell whiskey? Good shit, too. What is that? You drinkin’ Yamazaki?”

You cleared your throat and pressed your lips together firmly, hoping Tony would get the message, eye catching Natasha’s cat-like grin in the process. He clucked his tongue before pointing to the wall to your left where an e-mail was being projected. You briefly glanced it over as the room watched on, flicking bits of neon plastic from your head.

The e-mail thread was between Tony and Kristopher Byrne, the former director of the Museum of Modern Art, singing your praises. Your eyebrows raised higher and higher the further down the e-mail chain you went, and eventually it felt like they might fly off your face altogether. Byrne was pushing meeting you, possibly having a dinner together, possibly a position of employment with a local university or being a permanent fixture at one of his private galleries.

There was a choking noise you were vaguely aware of coming out of your mouth- and it wasn’t from excitement.

There was a reason you didn’t pursue a higher degree in the Fine Arts. There was a reason you only gave phone interviews, hardly showed your face, never entered your work in museums, and ran all over the world instead. You hated the attention and the culture of rubbing elbows with the upper crust. Yes, having a secure and stable income is nice- but that was already fulfilled by being employed by Stark Industries, and you never really needed more than that.

“I really appreciate it, Tony,” you began gesturing to the screen, hoping to not offend him, “But you don’t have to do this on my behalf.”

Tony put a hand over the ACDC logo and dimly glowing light on his chest, “I love nepotism as much as the next guy, trust me, but I did not schmooze him, he schmoozed me. He schmoozed me a lot, kid, and it was to get to you. He’s been asking about you for years.”

“Can you stop saying schmooze?” Pepper called, raising her hand primly, “You make it sound so gross, Tony.”

“Look, he just wants to have dinner. With you. And some friends.” Tony shrugged, as if the lift of his shoulder could so easily discard the rest of the statement hanging in the air. You knew that Kristopher Byrne did not just want to have dinner.

“What kind of dinner?” Bucky piped from the background. You turned your head to him, lingering in the back; he must have just come in after a shower. His wet hair was tied into a low knot at the nape of his neck, a few strands hanging loosely. You tried to hide a smile at his protective questioning.

“And what kind of friends?” Steve added, arms now crossed as he sat down on the couch.

Natasha gave a knowing look to Pepper as if to communicate that Tony couldn’t hide his agenda with both Bucky and Steve at his heels. Throwing his hands up he rolled his eyes with a histrionic lament, “Wow. You overprotective geriatrics really suck the fun out of my life, you know that? Great. Cover’s blown, F.R.I.D.A.Y.! Give me the real deal.”

The projection against the wall was hastily replaced with a different e-mail chain, one that very specifically requested a formal show of your most recent work post-travels, as well as a special request for never-before-seen Avengers portraits. You released a loud, disappointed groan, taking two big steps to the wall and jabbing your finger at the mass of text.

“This is why.” You ran your pointer under the phrase “black tie event” and shook your head. “This isn’t my life, Tony. It’s your life.”

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” You felt set up. His abruptly somber tone meant that he was about to drop some shit on you that would change your perspective.

“This is my life,” Tony began, pausing for effect before taking two fingers and waving it broadly over the room, making sure to catch Bucky and Steve in his radius. “And it’s their life, too. You think Cap’s not obligated to formal events? He’s a national treasure, kid. And Winter Dead-Eyes over there is America’s new Redemption Sob Story.”

Bucky growled, but was quickly silenced by the outline of Steve’s turning profile.

“You’re Bound to them; you can’t wander the world at your whim anymore. This is a golden opportunity dropping into your lap. One black-tie event with Byrne gets your foot in a lot of doors. He’ll make you a permanent faculty member at Tisch in two years if that’s what you want; you’ve got the clout- whether you like it or not.”

The whiskey was making you a little agitated, and it felt like Tony was cornering you into a pocket you weren’t ready to face. These types of decisions required time and deliberation, and twenty minutes ago, you were barely choosing when you were going to have sex in the next week.

“And if you’re so adamant against nepotism, how do feel being employed by me?”

“Are you saying you continue to employ me because we’re friends?”

“Aren’t we?”

He really did corner you. If you answered no, it would have been too cruel to everyone. If you answered yes, then you’d be a hypocrite, and there would obviously be no reason for you not to take the offer other than the fact that you didn’t want to. Regardless, Tony had a valid point: you couldn’t keep floating. You needed to settle permanently in New York.

You put your face in both hands, feeling the heat rise from your neck.

Steve stood up from the couch, “That’s enough.” The edge in his voice meant he was serious. He didn’t like seeing you distressed, but you waved him off, eyes still closed.

“I’ll need… time.” You thought your voice might shake, but it didn’t. Your brain was pumping out information that your mouth was glad to blather about, “I need at least a month. I need to work. I need to set up a studio space, I need equipment, need to find my printing guy… Where are we hanging them?” When your eyes opened, Pepper had her hands clasped together over her chest and Natasha gave you two thumbs up. Steve and Bucky, on the other hand, looked concerned.

Tony was grinning like a child in a candy store.

“Leave all of that to me, kid. Date’s set. Last Saturday in June, we’re doing it. Mazel tov! I love a good black-tie event, especially if I’m throwing it.”

You went home that night and slammed yourself into bed, tossing and turning for what seemed like hours. Your stomach was churning wrathfully, already expectant of the party. Everything felt like it was falling apart again. You had just barely come to the physical terms of having soulmates, taking small steps to ensure that you were treating them fairly and meeting their needs, yet it seemed like once again, the reality of being Bound was eclipsing your independence.

Steve’s words echoed in your head. It was a commitment. You needed to stay in New York and commit to him. You needed to commit to Bucky.

You picked up the phone when it vibrated and lit up with Steve’s face. A concerned murmur of your name passed through the receiver.

“Hey,” You replied, face pressed into your pillow.

“You okay? You left in a hurry.” He sounded relieved to hear your voice.

“I’ve got a lot on mind, I think.”

In the background was Bucky’s distinct mumble of “What’s she doin’?”

“Did ya get that?” Steve laughed, “Buck’s on edge.”

You shuffled yourself around the bed and snuggled deeper down, imagining the crinkle on Bucky’s forehead and matching crease of Steve’s eyes as he smiled. You suddenly missed them. There was something about the image of them sitting together purposely, talking to you, concerned about you, that opened the floodgates.

You let go.

Steve listened generously as you expressed your hesitations about presenting your work to Kristopher Byrne or any other elite art critic or connoisseur. The thing you dreaded most about art school was the jargon of “artspeak”, the constant performance of socializing with the right people in the right way to get an opportunity. After your solo exhibit of the Soulmate Series, you were so exhausted and disenchanted by the questions and feeling the need to defend yourself that you refused to enter any more exhibitions. It was why you chose to travel instead of pursuing a Masters or making your mark in New York.

Interviews were strictly phone-only for independent magazines or social media websites and you never showed your face. You didn’t want any attention that was not on your work, which was why you were so glad that Pepper was not only a great resume opportunity, but that she was extremely professional. The photos you took of the Avengers were posted for the public relations needs and you were credited only by name.

“I just want to be a photographer,” you said, “I want to make images and talk about them in way that is digestible for ordinary people. I think photo is a great medium for that because it is so commonplace. Why is necessary to then jumble it all up with pretentious terminology? I want to take photos that are meaningful but even your grandmother could enjoy.”

Steve laughed.

“Okay, maybe not yours, specifically,” You chucked, “But you know what I mean. Photography is ubiquitous, I just so happen to have had also an education and know the theory and mechanics. And I’m lucky enough to work with you guys. But I’m not them. I don’t want to sell a picture for thirty-thousand dollars and have it put up in some guy’s house and never shown again.”

“Give ‘em hell!” Bucky’s voice rang in the background. You were surprised he was still there, listening. It made you happy that he was.

Steve paused, “I think you can do both.”

You sighed. He didn’t understand.

“No, no, listen to me. You can fight it, but you’ll need to be a part of it. You can’t change anything about the system if you’re running from the system. As much as you hate elitist jargon, you know it, and you can participate in it.”

Your brow furrowed, but Steve went on, “Get the faculty position, exhibit in galleries, gain that platform and then you make changes on that platform. Even if you just teach- imagine having 100 students a year that you can pass this to. What were the students like in your college classes?”

“Uppity.” You admitted. “We took such dumb photos and then would critique them in such meaningless ways. Sometimes a sink is just a sink. Sometimes it’s not, but when it is, it really is."

Steve laughed again; the example was lost on him. “Okay. Now what if your professors felt the same way you did?”

“We’d probably hate each other less and experiment more without second guessing ourselves.”

“Don’t you think you want to do that for other students, sweetheart? Even if it means that you’re in the thick of it yourself?” A smile was slowly forming on your face. It only made sense that Steve Rogers was such a revolutionary. It really was such good advice.

“Buck’s right, sweetheart. Go give ‘em hell.” In the background was a satisfied huff and a “Damn right!” for good measure.

“Anything else on your mind?” Steve quietly asked after a moment had passed between you, as if he’d forgotten his friend in the room, highly alert and intently listening, “Anything ‘bout us?”

You breathed a deep sigh, careful not to blow into the phone as you thought about your next words carefully. The anxieties for the show colluded with your anxieties for your future here. Steve knew that; he was only asking to be polite. “Mmm… It’ll keep me close,” You murmured, “That’s good, right?”

“I can’t decide that for you, sweetheart. That’s up to you.” There was a pause, the sound of something hitting the wall softly like a pillow, some fuzzy scratches telling you the phone was moving around, and Bucky with an irritated reprimand: “Wrong answer, punk!”

You laughed mirthfully, feeling your worries rolling off your body as you listened to Steve and Bucky quarrelling on the other end. It felt so natural that you couldn’t help but think maybe this was another good step in the right direction.

More and more each day you could imagine yourself having morning coffee with Steve, watching a movie with Bucky, cooking together, eating dinner, working side by side at the compound. Maybe you didn’t have to settle for brief fifteen-minute walks in the park, and maybe one day Bucky could talk to you about his demons. The three of you could exist together, as you were intended to.

At 23, you made up your mind to stay in New York with Steve and Bucky.

Next Chapter

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #self insert #fanfiction #mcu #marvel #stucky x reader #soulmate au #Mystery of Love heli0s

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jjkpls · 5 years

Text

untitled (m)

> genre : smut

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader

> words : 3.6k

> warning : none

> Jeon Jungkook, the cute irresistible dongsaeng, proposes to help you out of a dry spell or something like that. (blowjob; noona kink maybe)

A/N : sorry I’m bad at summaries please read lol; also I’m sad because I couldn’t find a gif of the very moment that inspired this. also i hope the smut doesn’t suck too much (pun intended). and kookie I’m sorry TT

> Read the bonus: Jungkook’s POV after reader’s confession here !

« Wait! »

My hands jump to grab his own but I stop mid-track, almost falling off the bed. He freezes his movement, he is a second away from taking off the very last pieces of clothing covering his frame, he then raises his eyes at me. Round and large with confusion. His bottom lip, the cutely plump one, falls downward.

« What are you doing? Are you insane?! »

I may have screamed a little too hysterically because he starts pouting like an upset kid, ready to whine and maybe even cry. I almost find him adorable, almost feel bad but after a quick blink, I'm reminded that right now he is the farthest from a kid he has ever been.

His fingers are twitching nervously, centimetres away from the fly of his jeans. I am trying, concentrating all the willing power I can gather, to not look at him. But he is standing right here. So close. The enchanting smell, a mix between a sweet sugary note and a more natural one, subtle touch of sweat that makes my mouth dry and my head slightly dizzy.

I am so weak I need to close my eyes shut to stop staring at his fair skin. Even from the corner of my eyes, I can not help but notice the studded trail of hairs under his belly button, the trace his boxers' waistband has left on his skin. My heart misses a few beats and I'm terrified, for a seemingly eternal instant, that it won't start anew.

It was too sudden. It feels like a second happened between the moment he knocked on my door, and the one when he just occurs to stand right in front of me, clearly on the path of stripping himself entirely naked. His clothes must have been removed at some point but I did not even get to see it coming. Red is starting to colour his cheeks and his fingers tremble more in the air.

"Noona, you said you wanted me..." He transpires sheepishness. His words, stuttered out through pouty lips, are inarticulate, lisped even more than usual. I don't think I've heard him sounding so unconfident in the past two years. He used to be like this all the time back when we'd just met and he had a hard time hanging around me without awkwardness bubbling in his belly. I really thought that period was way behind us, buried to never see the light of day ever again as we've learned to grow so comfortable around each other. But here he is, uneasy breath stumbling out of his agape mouth, his whole being decomposing under timidness and confusion. My heart squeezes painfully in my bosom.

He doesn't get the fact that I'm turning away so far, stiff neck starting to hurt from the position, just to avoid looking at his body. He might be even a little hurt by it. My inner instinct to take care of him in any circumstances, makes me want to catch his hands in mines and squeeze them lovingly until the confusion fades away. But I know I just can not do this. Not when my fingers, even with the most careful effort, might accidentally brush against the warm skin of his chest. Not when he is mentioning this old episode. That old episode I thought had, somehow, auto-destructed itself into thin air to be forgotten by all, and especially by him -because it was over for my own case, no matter what I've tried to do: auto-hypnosis, self pep talk consisting of denying, busying my mind to make sure I don't accidentally think about it and revive the memory to my conscience, the nightmarish memory is still damnly engraved in my brain. That damned episode of that damned time when I did say that I wanted him and even more.

A little bit of soju. Literally just a little bit. I know I can not handle much alcohol. Therefore I am smart enough to avoid it for reasons similar to the one you'll learn soon enough. But I am not wise enough to ignore dumbasses provoking me restlessly.

« Laaaame! »

I glared at Kim Taehyung, head tilted to the side, eyes squinted in quiet threat. He thought he was cool but he looked ridiculous with his glassy eyes and a stupid grin he could not get rid off, swaying on his seat as if stuck on a wild boat. He had a brownish stain going from his neck to down his chest: beer he had spilt on himself after having one fucking drink. Impossible to take him seriously or even consider taking his attacks seriously. But then Park Jimin, the over sexual drunkard, was done acting like a nympho in the hallway he had decided to turn into a dancefloor and came back to the table to harass me as well, as a backup to his soulmate.

So, obviously, to shut their stupid loudmouths I downed a shot glass of soju and well, it was enough for me to lose my goddamn self-preservation and any sense of decency apparently.

It started with what I imagined to be a charming, seducing, definitely tendentious pose. Cheek set on my hand, leaning towards him with my elbow holding me up riskily on the table. I was probably swaying a little bit back and forth like the idiotic Kim Taehyung, but I didn't care. I smiled kindly at him, eyes soft and shiny with mischief.

He, as always, was sporting that dull-witted expression on his face. This kind of blank, simply still expression that doesn't say much. He looks like he is paying great attention but also like his mind is stuck somewhere else and he doesn't understand anything you're saying. Calm and relaxed, big round eyes looking confused even if he's not which, well, could be confusing.

Not that I am blaming him. But if he had a more expressive face, one that would obviously say « Noona, you're drunk and I don't feel like listening to your crap. Please shut up. » well, I would have as I should have shut up for good.

On the moment, I was mistaking the situation. Not feeling particularly weird even though I knew I was spilling some truths I had felt I shouldn't confess to him ever -at least, before this very moment of distraction. Unfortunately enough, I have a perfectly clear image of him left in my mind now. That same image that keeps making me so mortified every time it flashes, unannounced, behind my eyelids.

He was sitting still, next to me, wide eyes emphasized by his stupid Harry Potter glasses, staring at me blankly or dancing amongst the table, as if looking for any plate with anything left for him to eat. His lips slightly parted as in deep reflexion. He had a sign of... disturbance? though. Something pretty obvious. Pretty fucking obvious for someone who wouldn't be intoxicated the way I was. In fact, his leg was shaking non-stop under the table, sometimes up and down, sometimes from left to right. But mindless me, who sort of noticed, could only focus on how tight his light blue denim was stretching on his thick thigh; and the tempting skin, winking at me through the inappropriately large holes.

I leaned even closer so he could hear, him only, all that I had to tell him. About his thighs I wanted to grab, scratch, bite before riding them to cloud 9. His neck I was slightly obsessed with since I saw him once leaving a stage, pearls of sweat rolling down the expanse of his milky skin. His cute lips I imagined red, swollen from my ministration or from the effort they would put on my body; big round eyes shiny with tears from the overwhelming pleasure I wanted to torture him with; soft, dark hair stuck to his forehead, falling low on his eyes; thin waist perfectly shaped for my legs to wrap around. And his stupid ridiculous overgrown-bunny muscles that I couldn't help but imagine him using to lift me up and pin me up against the wall.

And he just left me talk. He remained there, listening carefully as he always does. Not blinking much more of usual. His doe eyes would sometimes look at me carefully, most of the times lose themselves into space, not giving up on much of what could be going on in his head. His face and neck and ears were blushing a vibrant red but I'd just assumed that the alcohol was the cause behind it. Absolutely not that I was appalling him then and there.

I had started to talk about his cock in way too obscene and creepy ways when, luckily, Park Jimin put me in a headlock, begging in a whiny honey-like voice to go dance with him. After fighting him for way too long about the fact that we were in a fucking restaurant and there was no dance floor waiting for any of us, the night I sexually harassed that poor Jungkook kid was over.

« You said that, didn't you? »

« Still, you can't- I thought- Why are you mentioning this now? »

Because it's been like five months. Since then, he's never showed any sign of interest. Literally. He's kept treating me like his noona. The unattractive noona he would not perceive like an actual potentially sexual being. As a matter of fact, he hasn't shown any sign of remembering the incident. I prayed, long and hard, for him to not have any recollection of it and it seemed to have worked. Still acting like a clown to make me laugh, invading my home to play games with me, whining cutely to have me treat him all kinds of food. There was not the least wavering in his behaviour.

I may have thought catching a bizarre hesitation in the looks he gave me at the beginning but I've come to the conclusion that the guilt and the embarrassment made me see things that were not there since, soon enough, he was back to normal.

But he did remember, didn't he?

"Noona, you need a man and I'm here." He says, firmly, straight eyebrows frowned in determination, bombing his chest. He probably thinks he looks tough but he appears quite cute like that.

"What do you mean I need a man?"

"Hyung said so." There is a curse that I can't prevent from slipping out of my mouth. I'm not sure which one of his hyungs he is talking about but I'm pissed. Why, did I think, for a second, that confiding my love -and sexual- life fiasco to them was a good idea? "I remember what you said you wanted from me the other night so here I am. I'll give it to you."

The tone of his voice, sweet and soft as always, not stranded by the tension from earlier, fills up the room and diffuses the nervosity I was suffering from. Biting back a smile, I lean to pick up the tee-shirt he discarded and give it back to him.

"Kook, I don't- Put your clothes back on."

"Wh-why? I- I will do it with you! You don't want me anymore? Why?" It takes all the power in me to not laugh at his cute desperation. I swallow it back though because I'm terrified his sheeny eyes, staring straight back into my gaze, will start spilling tears. With cautious words and a benevolent smile, I explain, calmly, that this situation is just wrong. I explain that he can't just give himself away, throwing himself at me as an offering, just because he's been told that I'm sad and lonely and horny. As kind as his gesture is -in theory- it's simply wrong. You pursue people that you want, that turn you on, not that you want to be kind to.

"I do want you, noona! I really want to do it!"

Do it. It makes me cringe. Not that he is not cute, he's quite adorable as he always is. But him not even being able because of shyness to put the right words makes me feel worse than ever. I feel like a damned sinful creature trying to corrupt a sweet innocent angel.

"You don't, Kook."

"I do!"

"You can't even name 'the thing'! You don't want it, you're just bein-"

"Stop putting words in my mouth." His hands squeeze the tee-shirt he is holding in a frustrated ball. "I do. I wanna make love with you." My heart stops once again. And my centre throbs. The whole tension from earlier trying to seep in the tip of his nose back in the conversation. He is sulking, I can tell by the lowness of his tone. Nevertheless, there is a sincerity strand impossible to ignore.

Those words I've wanted to hear for so long never sounded so good, even in the most sophisticated fantasy my mind could have come up with. My head is dizzy. My cheeks are burning. I just hope he can't see it because it'll be even harder to not give in.

"___." As if the use of my name instead of the usual honorific term doesn't translate enough his newfound confidence, Jungkook throws harshly his shirt back to the ground. Tips of cold fingers grazing the reddish apple of my cheeks, I'm exposed.

"I won't sleep with you, Jungkook." His shoulders slump down, miserably. "I'm- It's too confusing."

He is handsome. He is deadly. From the line of his body to those traits, the most captivating ones I've ever seen on any human's face. And of course, appearances and beauty are subjective. And of course, I don't think, in-depth, that they influence the least one's feeling towards someone else. Quite frankly, it's his heart the biggest and warmest one I've ever encountered that moves me. He is soft and he is so kind and so generous. Before those obscene thoughts have started invading and plugging up my mind, I only wanted to shower him with love and the most platonic kisses. I'm not even sure what happened. Probably that fucking comeback stage coming straight from hell he and his friends performed a little over a year ago.

Anyways, all I was trying to get at is that, besides his soul being so precious, he is hot as fuck and I can hardly consider that he would really, sincerely want me.

"I'm sincere! I really-"

"Jeon Jungkook, stop !" He glares at me, puffs his cheeks, sighing deeply. "You're too weird. You've never shown any interest and out of no-" In a swift motion, Jungkook grabs my hand to place it on his crotch. His bulging, obviously worked up crotch.

"Can I suck you off ?" Yes, I've just lost all willing.

"C-can you- what ?"

"Suck you off ?"

"Ye- I mean no !" He bites hard on his lower lip, the cutely plush one. "No, no, no. It's me- I'm- I'll take care of you."

"Kook, you want to do something for me ?" He nods eagerly, hair flying around, feet scooting unconsciously on the carpet to get closer. "Then let me do this. Pleasing you is what I want."

"Only if you let me take care of you afterwards." He is all frowned eyebrows and tight jaws, looking like a serious negotiator. Therefore, I simply nod, crossing under my thigh my fingers because it's a lie.

Trembling fingertips reach to touch the soft skin of his hips, he flinches under the touch and I almost decide to retract them once and for good. It's a quick glance up to his face that makes me change my mind and grab with more assurance the hem of his jeans. He is looking down at me with this telling glint shining in his pretty eyes. He really wants it. I have no doubt anymore. He is just as nervous as I am.

Leaning forward, I press a soft kiss against his bustling heart, trying to get him to relax as my hands work on getting him out of his pants. He breathes out, his nose releasing a tiny whistle that makes me grin against his skin. I'm so done for this boy. "Kook, I'm a bit eager so I won't take my time. I hope it's okay for you." I ask, peering at him from under. His jeans are unfastened and balled up around the middle of his meaty thighs -the prospect of losing probably 5 good minutes in getting those tight as hell jeans off of him just convinced me to keep them here. Meaty thighs I can't keep my fingers from digging in. God, how greedy I've been for these thighs.

"It's okay, noona, anything is okay." He reassures quickly, words tumbling out messily from the tautness he is under. When I grab a full hand of his still clothed shaft, he twitches not only under my fingers but his whole body does, a loud whimper erupting from him.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" I ask, a hint of a sneer in the edges of my tone. I'm not mean, I swear. But the cute uncontrolled noises and the vibrant red of his cheeks are just lavishing.

"Yeah, I- fu-" He bites back the curse that almost slipped when I've started massaging him, slowly but firmly, through his underwear. This cutie still cares about not cursing around me. He'll be the death of me.

He is already so hard and he feels so burning hot, my mind starts falling in a haze. It's insane the effect Jungkook has on me. He hasn't touched me in the least bit but I feel like a few words whispered by him might make me come undone.

The darker stain appearing on the tissue resolves me to get to it already. Exhaling hard as to chase away the anxiety, I slip one of my hand inside, dragging the waistband down with the other one. My eyes are observing his face carefully as to delay the moment I'll have to face his cock. Jungkook is so quiet, eyes wide and apprehensive. I smile gently at him, caring to defuse his possible uneasiness despite having to deal with my own. I don't know why I'm so nervous. Maybe because I can't really believe this is happening. Maybe because in the back of my head, anxious little versions of me are running around like headless chickens, bumping into each other, yelling something about what's going to happen after with him, our friendship and everything and everybody else. Maybe because it's been a while since the first and last time I've given head -a debacle, let's not mention it- and I'm terrified to mess up.

When I finally take my wild thoughts under control, I allow my gaze to fall down from his pretty eyes and linger on the object of all my fantasies. My heart is beating like crazy, and my breath seems too short, but I'm overwhelmed by greed and don't let another instant to pass before quite literally jumping on it.

With no sense of shame or embarrassment or doubt, I engulf the most I can of his member, swallowing around it like a starve woman, encouraged by the hissing and whining coming straight from his core.

I am way more selfish than he probably thinks me to be right now. As I'm leaning further on his shaft, between kisses and licks and sucks, slowing my pace so I can feel and enjoy the heat and the smoothness and the dizzying heaviness of his cock on my tongue, I know I wouldn't want to be anywhere else doing anything else. I'm not even sure I would trade this to have him take direct care of my needs. And I know, I am, right now, creating excellent material to recycle for the years of lonely nights I might have to spend in the future.

"Fuck, ___." He groans, looking straight into my eyes. He looks absolutely breathtaking like that. Hair sticky to his forehead, few droplets of sweat rolling down his neck, eyes glassy, and mouth agape. His bottom lip, the cute, slightly crooked plump one I too often tend to be mesmerized by when he talks, is dark as hell and I think I even catch a glimpse of bloody red.

His heavy hooded eyes are clinging to my own in an inescapable hold as my hand jerks him off fast.

"Are you close?" I breathe out, voice hoarse, mostly strained by arousal. His head falls back with another groan. He's too immersed in his own pleasure to answer but the angry red his tip is tainted with tells on him. Closing my mouth gently around the tasty-looking head, I suck hard, jerking hard while his hips follow with an erratic thrusting.

He curses and groans and whines, loud and clear, unbothered by how he might sound to me or even to my neighbours, as I help him out through his orgasm. My name erupts again and again from his sweet lips and I moan from down here, clutching my thighs one against the other wondering if I could actually come just by hearing this sinful calling of my name.

Once I swallowed everything he gave me, I peck his cock gently and release him from my hold. He falls on the bed, spent and eyelids struggling to stay open.

"Do you wanna sleep here ?"

"No, I- I'm not sleeping, I have to give it back to you."

I chuckle at his form, slumped on the mattress clearly not ready to give anything at the moment, and proceed to tuck him under the covers after I've freed him from his jeans and arranged his briefs back on. He complains for good measure but I can hear, as I'm leaving for the bathroom, that he's started snoring.

And shit, I'm not even mad about it.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook scenario #bts scenario #jungkook fluff #bts drabble #jungkook drabble #my writing

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mentalmimosa · 5 years

Text

if, indeed

Prompt: Soulmates.

“What I don’t understand,” Crowley said, “is why they spend so much of their not-at-all unlimited time and energy looking for The One.”

Aziraphale folded down his newspaper and squinted at his friend. “The one what?”

“Pffft, you know.” Crowley waved his hands about his head, his eyes goggled stupidly. “The One.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said patiently. Sometimes Crowley was like this, exasperatingly vague-- especially on a morning after a spectacular bender when the angel extended an invitation for brunch. There was no rule that said Crowley had to pop over just because Aziraphale asked, no matter how scrumptious Aziraphale knew his French toast was, how perfectly crisp and browned his bacon. Not that Crowley had ever actually admitted to enjoying either, but nor, the angel noted now with a spark of triumph, had his friend left a scrap on his plate.

Now the demon leaned over said plate, glaring. “Their soulmate, you git. That’s what they call them: The One.”

This was news to Aziraphale, the sort of news that one generally didn’t find in The Times: that is to say, incorrect.

“Do they now?” he said. “Huh. How very odd.”

“Yes. It’s in all their novels and things, their plays, you know. Art. I’d have thought you’d have noticed.”

“Huh,” said Aziraphale again. “From whom did they get that idea?”

Crowley’s eyebrow shot up. “From our side, I should think. The great minds that brought you Adam and Eve and all that. Set up a binary system right from the start, didn’t you? Of course they’re gonna follow that.”

“Well,” Aziraphale said nervously, for the thought had never occurred, “more than likely, it was for simplicity’s sake, you know. Or perhaps after creating two of such complex species, the Lord was a bit, er, tuckered out.”

This, Aziraphale well knew, wasn’t true. The original plans for the Garden of Eden--plans to which he’d been privy but over which he’d had no creative control, sadly--had always included two of what God called “humans” but Gabriel had lavishly dubbed “angels sans wings,” at least until the Lord had gotten wind of it and (so far as Aziraphale understood) told Gabriel to stop improvising and stick to the script.

And it had been part of the script, too, for each human not to be limited in the choice of fruitful (physical and/or metaphorical) partnerships; there was not, Aziraphale was certain, A single One. It had been brought up In the Beginning, of course, a suggestion from Michael and his ramrod straight lot: Script their stories. Write their tales. Set them loose only on the paths we have chosen for them, et cetera. It was silly, Aziraphale had thought then, though of course no one had asked his opinion; why go to all the trouble of creating something as wondrous as a world and then spoil it by dictating everything? They had already built a universe at the Lord’s direction, following every instruction to a T, and the whole point of the Earth, Aziraphale had believed, was to give God a go at a different sort of direction: free will and choice and all that.

In the sense, good sense had won and the humans were set to wander about and fight and mate and wander still further as they liked. It had taken a bit of getting used to; it had taken centuries for the Lord to stop losing Her temper and lashing out with natural disasters whenever the humans did something she didn’t like. But never in all those millennia had Aziraphale known the Supreme Being to give a toss about any human’s love life--aside from that young girl in Judea whose marriage to a carpenter had been so fortuitously timed with God’s sudden itch for offspring. No human had a singular solemate per se; how odd, the angel thought, neatly folding his newspaper and setting it aside with care, for them to focus on the notion of The One.

“No,” he said with a firm shake of his head. “That isn’t ours.”

“Are you sure?” Crowley was smirking now, the telltale curl of his lip that Aziraphale had long since learned meant ha! the angel doesn’t have all the facts.

“No,” Aziraphale said again. “I’m certain. We wouldn’t lie to them about something like that.”

Crowley sat back a little, his mouth still quirked. There was a peak of gleam in his eyes. “Oh, come on. Yes, you would.”

“May I remind you that the whole nonsense of marriage was, as you put it, one of yours? We’d cast our lot pretty clearly with celibacy.”

“Well, I can’t take credit for it directly,” Crowley said with a snort, “but I know the lad who whispered into the ear of the right elder during the early days of the Church. He’s the one who rejiggered Paul’s letters, that elder was. Heh!” Here here grinned at Aziraphale. “Difficult to be celibate when God’s book is telling you to have shack up and have kids, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale sighed. “I did warn them about the dangers of dictation, Crowley. Wrote many a strongly worded letter along those lines.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“I’d be surprised if any of them were opened, frankly.”

“Ach,” Crowley said. He patted Aziraphale’s arm. “That was their mistake, then, wasn’t it? Don’t be hard on yourself about it.”

“Still,” Aziraphale said, “regardless of whose fault it is, that still leaves us with the same problem.”

“What problem?”

“How do we dissuade all the people wandering about out there that love is the goal, hmm, the thing they should be striving for. Not this silly notion of The One. What if that one lives halfway around the world, after all?”

“True.”

“They’ve barely mastered seafaring, after all, in this part of the world, at least. What if you’re born in a bog in Ireland or something and your One lives at the tip of Cape Horn? What’s the likelihood of you finding them or them blundering up this way to find you?”

“Somewhere less than zero.”

Aziraphale frowned, his thoughts distressed and zooming about at a thousand miles an hour. “Or who’s to say if this One will walk the earth at the same time that you do? What if they’re only born after you die?”

“Az.”

“Or what if you get married to a bloke who seems nice and then a few later, alakazam! You run into The One in the street.”

Crowley’s hand on his forearm tightened. “Aziraphale.”

“What?”

“Calm down.”

“But--!”

“I was only pulling your leg,” Crowley said. His friend looked genuinely distressed. “Needling at you, you know. I wasn’t trying to get you upset.”

“I’m not upset, I’m”--here Aziraphale flailed--“distressed on someone else’s behalf.”

“You feel too much, angel. You always have. Sensitive as all get out when it comes to the humans, aren’t you? Have been since they day that we met.”

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale said with a bit of a sniff. “I like them.”

He had always done, ever since he’d first see the sketches of their original design: when it came to people, truly, these fragile creatures so dependent on their corporeal form, Aziraphale had been in love since they were merely an idea.

Crowley’s fingers slipped to his. “I shouldn’t have teased you,” the demon said kindly. “Not about them. I’m sorry, my friend.”

Aziraphale met his eyes, felt his own tear at the fondness he found there. “Apology accepted.”

Crowley’s mouth lifted and it seemed, for a moment at the breakfast table in 1815, that there was something very much more to be said. It hung in the air between them, the air stuffy with the smell of old books and powdered sugar and, if one sniffed very sternly, a hint of last night’s wine. Aziraphale’s soul sang with affection; not for the first time, his cheeks colored and something very deep in him trembled and he wondered, asked: should I give this voice?

But then there was a clatter of hooves on the cobblestones outside, a shout of a man in the street, and the moment--fragile as it was, like the softest spun sugar--gave way over their empty plates and gently, inexorably collapsed.

“Anyway,” Crowley said, sliding his hand free and looking vaguely embarrassed, “it was the humans who came up with it, this whole daft notion of The One.”

Aziraphale cleared his throat and reached for his coffee. “Really?”

“Yeah. They think it’s romantic or something, I guess, the idea of having a soulmate. Very silly if you ask me.”

“Oh yes,” the angel said, busying himself with the cream and the sugar and keeping his gaze from Crowley’s face, his mouth still full of all the mad things he’d quite nearly said. “Very silly indeed. Not to mention factually inaccurate. Not my definition of romantic at all.”

Crowley chuckled. The sound was a little pained. “For them, angel, I think silly and romantic go hand in hand.”

Later, when his friend had gone and he’d washed and set away the dishes, Aziraphale sat in his favorite window seat with a book on his lap. He’d no idea what it was; he’d tugged it from the shelf at random. After ten minutes gazing out at the street, he hadn’t made it past the flyleaf. It was just as well, really, for he would have been unable to read the words on any page: Crowley’s face in that crystalline moment--gentle, full of affection, fear dampened for hope--would not, could not, leave his mind.

How many times over the years had the demon looked at him thus? There was no way to know. How many times had the angel caught him doing so? A hundred, at least. Perhaps more. How many times had he allowed himself to gaze back? Far fewer. Far fewer, indeed.

But never before, as he had on this rainy April day, had he come so close to expressing what had hung for so long in the place he liked to think of as his heart.

I love you. Is that what he would have said? I adore you, even when you irritate me, darling Crowley. Perhaps especially then.

He’d let it slip by, hadn’t he, like a lost ship in the night, and who knew if such a chance--such a shot of sudden if incomplete bravery--might ever sail by his way again?

What if you spent millenia staring into the eyes of The One and never said anything, never reached for him, never acknowledged that he had become, as they said, the very sun in your sky?

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale sighed, tipping his forehead against the foggy glass. “Oh my dear. If, indeed.”

#aziraphale/crowley #otp: ineffable #mutual pining

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jinterlude · 5 years

Text

In a Prior Life

↳ header is made by yours truly. I do not own the rights to the image used.

➳ Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Female OC (feat. OC son)

➳ Genre(s): Soulmate!AU, Historical!AU, 1940s!AU, 1960s!AU, Parents!AU, Marriage!AU, Humor, Romance, & Fluff ↳ Based on this prompt: the one where soulmates are reincarnated and keep finding each other throughout their different lives.

➳ Warning(s): None apply.

➳ Words: 5.7K

➳ Summary: People have said that there’s a reason why you always feel this sense of familiarity when you meet someone for the first time. Perhaps, in a prior life, the two of you were soulmates that unfortunately met an untimely end. That was the case for Seokjin and Sumin. No matter what time period they were in, they always found each other and instantly fell in love. I guess you can say that their romance is one where it forever be immortalize in history.

Soft flurries slowly floated down to Earth. Hush whispers of the wind brushed through the naked trees, hurrying on their little journey. Crowds of people rushed to the many stores to get the gifts that their loved ones most desired to possess.

The month of December was both the most beautiful and saddening month. Fortunately, for a certain family, it was quite a joyous month. Not only did it mark a time where they came together after their busy schedules, but it also marked a special day—a day where a certain someone celebrated his birthday. However, aside from his birthday, a young couple also celebrated the anniversary of their timeless love. The love that always blossomed during the wintertime.

Their love was extremely rare that any outsider would eye them with complete envy. At the same time, they felt admiration for them. The strangers too hoped that they could feel such a strong love that only soulmates had the chance to experience…

Chopping some green onion, a young woman, with her hair neatly tied in a bun, dawned a soft smile as the faint sounds of the holiday classics invaded her ears.

Her mouth muttered some of the lyrics that echoed throughout the warm, comforting house.

“Mama?” cried out a young child, pulling the woman away from her current task.

With a warm, loving smile gracing her face, the mother gently placed the sharp knife down on the cutting board and quickly wiped her hands on a nearby dish towel. She then walked out of the kitchen, heading towards her rather alert son, and crouched down in front of him.

“What’s the matter, Jinwoo?” asked the mother, checking to see if he had any injuries on him. Confusion dawned on her as she saw no visible injuries on her son.

So, why had he cried out for her?

Instead of answering, the three-year-old child simply pointed at the screen.

The young mother raised her brow and directed her attention to the screen. The second she did, a soft chuckle exited her lips.

“Yes, baby. Two teenagers are building a huge snowman.” She said with a huge smile. “That brings back a lot of memories…” She whispered, recalling one of her many fond memories that she shared—practically created— with a special someone.

Winter of 1553

Bunching up the hem of her dress, a sixteen-year-old female rushed out of the castle halls. Squeals of delight emitted from her lips as the cool, icy breeze fanned her face. While she was a child of the Spring, she absolutely adored Winter. The cold sensation that tickled her body. The powdery snow that decorated the royal garden.

God…she absolutely loved what Father winter had to offer around this time of year.

“Princess Sumin!”

The lively princess laughed at the franticness that laced their voice. She always found it amusing how anxious—how nervous—the castle guards would get whenever she ran.

Though, it was understandable with talks of war happening throughout the halls of her kingdom.

This innocent young adolescent would never understand why two enemy kingdoms couldn’t just get along with each other.

Shouldn’t they want peace? Peace for, not only themselves, but the people as well. They already struggled to make ends meet with the harsh conditions that the season had to offer.

The last thing they wanted was for manmade destruction to take its toll on their crops; their only source of income…

Hurrying down the snowy path, the teenage Sumin, with the brightest smile ever to grace her precious face, journeyed further into the famous garden. Decorated with a variety of colored roses, each open space contained a marble statue that differed from one another. Some were even fountains that displayed a rather flashy water show.

The many joys being one of the more prestigious royal families out there…

Dashing by a few hedges, the happy princess ventured deeper into the garden, almost nearing the spot where she frequented whenever she wanted to hide; practically disappear from the world.

As she neared the frozen, wooden gazebo, she soon halted in her steps. Her brows furrowed together. Her eyes squinted to get a better look at the intruder who dared step foot inside her secret spot. Her gaze took note of a young man, maybe older or younger than she. She observed how well-built he looked. How defined the muscles on his arms were.

If only she had a better glimpse of his face…

Sumin, who allowed her curiosity to get the best of her, took one step towards the wooden gazebo. Her foot almost sunk into the snowy field as it created this crunch sound. That said noise alerted the intruder to her presence.

“If you are here to convince me to marry some stuck up princess, that I do not even know nor want to, then you are wasting your breath, Sir Jung. I will not—” However as the young boy turned around, still spewing anything and everything that came to mind, his mouth soon shut.

Instead of facing an elderly gentleman, he saw a young female, wearing this sapphire colored dress trimmed with diamonds all over the skirt. Her hair was a bit of a mess, yet she still looked beautiful. She had this radiant glow to her thanks to the ever bright light from the full moon.

Who was this enchanted lady?

“You are not my personal advisor-slash-dearest friend, Sir Jung.” Pointed out the young man.

Princess Sumin nodded; her lips thinned.

“And you are trespassing on royal property.” She stated, taking a step closer to both the fellow adolescent and gazebo.

The young lad scrunched his brows together. Confusion washed over him. Him trespassing? How could he have had trespassed on his own property?

Unless…

He soon froze in his spot. His eyes quickly glanced around his surroundings, noting the similar yet different garden landscape. His gaze soon trailed upwards, looking at the castle walls.

Yeah…

This was definitely not his kingdom…

And to make matters worse…this was his family’s enemies kingdom.

Which meant that the poor lad was face-to-face with the king’s daughter…Princess Sumin…

The holy spirits must’ve harbored an extreme amount of hatred for him that he would be in this rather compromising predicament.

“I am guessing that this is not my kingdom,” He paused, politely gesturing towards the princess, “And you are Princess Sumin that I have heard stories about.”

Princess Sumin nodded again, “You are quite correct my good sir,” She then gestured at him, “And you must be Prince Seokjin then.”

The handsome lad, now revealed to be the son of her father’s enemy, uttered a quick, “yup” before asking her what brought her out during this cold winter’s night.

“To put it in simple terms, your highness, but I love the snow.”

“How could you love something that could easily kill you if something were to go wrong?”

A faint hum emitted from her lips. Her index finger lightly tapped her chin as she thought about his question.

Before tonight, she’d never thought about the dangers of snow—or even the dangers of Winter all together.

The innocent princess simply saw the beauty of it, and that was it.

In her moment of trying to concoct the perfect answer, she took the chance to once again look around her. Her eyes took note of the many icicles that formed on the ledge of both the gazebo and the castle. How frost decorated the well-preserved roses.

The pond, now frozen, faintly reflected the night sky.

While yes, their appearances seemed dangerous, but they were still mesmerizing to her.

And there was her answer…

“May I ask you something, your highness?” Sumin inquired, taking a step onto the gazebo and walking over to the ledge where Seokjin leaned against.

Seokjin raised his brow as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Seokjin, and yes you may.” He said.

A soft smile graced her sweet lips.

“Do you like the ocean, Seokjin?” She asked, ignoring this unknown tingling sensation on her lips the second she said his name.

“Yes, I do. Why do you ask, Princess Sumin?” He answered. He too ignored the strange feeling that entered his heart the moment he heard the princess say his name.

Strange…

“Sumin, and I ask because do you not think that the ocean can be dangerous?”

“I do have some thoughts about the ocean being dangerous.”

“But you still walk along the sandy beach, drinking in the tranquil atmosphere that it offers you. Am I right?”

Seokjin turned his head just a bit; his eyes dripped with confusion. Where was she going with this?

“You are not wrong, princess, but I fail to see your point in this.” He confessed, though, with an amused smirk gracing his face.

Sumin scoffed softly, “The point I am trying to make is that regardless if something is dangerous, if you find it so beautiful, then you would do anything just to simply enjoy its splendors.” She explained.

“I see. Kind of like you then, right Sumin?” questioned the suddenly bold prince.

Hearing his words, Sumin became caught off guard. A warm feeling entered her cheeks, causing this pinkish hue to color them.

She then asked him to clarify but soon added that she did not appreciate being the center of a cruel joke.

“There is no joke, princess. I simply mean that I find you beautiful yet a danger to my health because of our families’ history with each other.” He kindly explained, smiling. “However, if I were to ask you for permission to be in your company again, what would say?” He added, turning his body towards her.

“I would say that I gladly give you permission, but we must keep this a secret since our fathers will more than likely kill us for “treason”. Sumin said sweetly with a smile to match Seokjin’s.

“Our secret is safe with me.”

“It better be, Prince Seokjin.”

As his mom secured her arms around his tiny body, the toddler squealed in delight. He loved being picked up and hugged by his mom. His second would being hugged by his dad.

Speaking of which…where was his daddy?

“Ooh…wifey…! Your amazing, handsome husband is home!” heard the toddler. Oh, his daddy had great timing.

“Sumin!”

“Jinwoo!”

“Are you guys ignoring me?!”

The young lady, now revealed as Sumin, laughed shortly. She had to marry someone so theatrical.

She quickly placed her son in his booster chair and buckled him in. She placed a sweet kiss on his head before leaving to go see what her dramatic husband wants.

She walked away from the table and journeyed over to the family room, where her husband currently flipped through an old photo album.

Sumin raised her brow, taking a seat next to him.

“What are you looking at, Seokjin” She asked, leaning over, hoping to take a peek at the album.

Before answering, Jinwoo’s dad, who’s named Seokjin, took the chance to kiss his wife’s cheek sweetly. His nose then nuzzled the crook of her neck before inhaling the sweet and addicting scent of her perfume. God, he could never tire of being absolutely close to her.

While they had been married for almost five years, he still felt like he was a junior in high school. The nervousness he experienced throughout his body when he finally worked the courage to confess his innermost feelings for his best friend.

While, he had hoped that his confession would be the coolest thing ever to happen to him, Seokjin was just a giant ball of anxiety. Honestly, he was lucky that that he even mustered out the words,

“I like you as more than a friend. Would you be my girlfriend?”

He was even luckier that Sumin said yes.

Who would’ve thought that hearing her say yes would be the greatest thing that Seokjin could ever hear?

And that feeling held true to him years later when he asked her to marry him.

God, he felt this unexplainable rush the second she shouted that special word. How happy it made him to see her shed tears of joy as she flung herself into his arms.

People have told him that once they’ve been married for more than two years, then that rush would disappear.

Nah…

He still felt that same rush every…single…day…

He married the woman that had been destined to be his ride-or-die…

Nothing and no one could ever replace that…

Spring of 1943

Sounds from the drum floated into the air. Then, the addicting notes from the horn section followed after. Lively chatter could be heard but faintly. Buzzed laughter almost reached the level of noisiness of the big bang that played their hearts out.

It’s not every day that soldiers of this horrid war were allowed to have a night out. More specifically, allowed to spend one night with the woman they have pledged their heart and soul to.

If these young soldiers were going to fight in a war where they were more than likely to die in the field, then they might as well make tonight worth it.

Currently downing his beer, one certain soldier hoped that the alcohol would calm his nerves. It’s not every day that one proposed to their favorite lady.

“I think I need another one.” Said the nervous Army man.

His six friends all laughed as they detected an unusual hint of nerves in their usually confident friend.

“Since when do you get nervous, Seokjin? Out of our years of knowing you, you never behaved this way,” said a fellow soldier that wore circle rimmed glasses, “Not even the day you asked out that dame of yours.” He added.

Seokjin narrowed his eyes, “Oh, shove it, Namjoon. It is not every day that you propose to someone the night before you get shipped out.”

Namjoon snorted and just as he opened his mouth to retort, another person managed to beat him to it.

“Why? You ‘fraid that some other fella is going to hit on her while you’re busy fighting for her?” teased a young lad with dark, ravenous locks.

“I wasn’t even remotely thinking about that until you mentioned that. Thanks, Jungkook…”

“You’re welcome, Jin!”

A low, exaggerated groan escaped the nervous solider. Without thinking, Seokjin grabbed a second, untouched beer from a nearby table and downed it in an instant.

His cheeks grew warm. His heart sped up. Cool. The liquid courage was finally working. Now, he just needed to his leading lady to make an appearance.

Speaking of which…

Where was she…?

Before coming to the bar with his friends, Seokjin stopped by her house, of course, when her father wasn’t around and asked what time she’d be showing her pretty face.

“I will try and show up around 7 o’clock.” He recalled her words.

He glanced at his watch and saw that it was forty minutes passed seven. This giant wave of worry crashed against his body and mind.

What if something happened to her?

Maybe the enemies kidnapped her?

Thought after thought invaded his mind, only increasing his anxiousness—his need to make sure she was safe and sound.

Just as he was about to spring up from his seat and go searching for her, Seokjin noticed a familiar face walk through the open doors.

Without a second thought, he scrambled out of his seat and dashed over to her.

Before the woman could greet her handsome soldier, she was engulfed in his arms as he placed kiss after kiss on her temple.

“God damn it, Sumin. You had me worried over your pretty face.” Complained Seokjin, feeling his nerves slowly fade away as he continued to hold her.

Sumin couldn’t help but chuckle at how worried he was.

She pulled away enough to see Seokjin’s face and with an amused yet sweet smile, she spoke,

“I’m sorry, Jinnie. I know I said that I would show up around 7, but mama wanted me to help her finish making pies for the officers. Apparently, she thinks that they are going to miss the taste of some good old fashion apple pie while they fight overseas.”

Hearing her words lifted a huge weight of Seokjin’s shoulders. He thanked God that the love of his life wasn’t kidnapped and had unspeakable things done to her.

No.

She was safe in his arms. Where she should always be.

“Okay. I’m just glad that you’re alright,” He then guided her to a secluded area of the bar, “Now, I can ask you something that I’ve been wanting to ask you for quite some time.” He mentioned, earning himself a confuse look from Sumin.

She titled her head to the side; her brows practically knitted together. Tiny creases formed on her gorgeous face as anything and everything entered her mind.

What kind of question?

Oh…he better not ask her if his uniform looked ugly on him again…

If anything, it made him look even sexier. Gotta love a man in uniform.

“What’s on your mind, Jinnie?” asked Sumin, smiling sweetly.

A nervous smile appeared on his face. His hands slightly trembled while the pit of his stomach felt a bit queasy. His breathing became sporadic. He feared his voice would crack if he spoke.

The more she stared at him with her doe-like eyes, the more he grew nervous.

However, the more he simply stood there looking like a complete and utter chicken, then he simply wasted his chance.

He needed to do this.

Before his nerves took control again, he got down on one knee, earning a faint gasp from Sumin.

“I know that marriage is more than likely the last thing on your mind right now because of this terrible war, but it is all I think about,” He began, digging in his jacket pockets in search of the ring box, “The thought of you being my wife is what motivates me to get up in the morning. It is what drives me to do well in field training. You are my strength…my guiding light whenever things go to shit. You are my everything, and I’m incredibly happy to know that you’re mine,” He paused, pulling out the ring box and opening it.

Sumin quickly covered her mouth, gasping loudly. Her eyes widened at the sight of such a beautiful yet simple diamond ring.

“S-Seokjin?” She whispered, tears beginning to form in the brim of her eyes.

“I love you to the moon and back, Sumin. You make me a better person every single day. You are the only one I know that tolerates my old man jokes. The only that understands my worries and then tells me that I’m incredibly stupid for even remotely thinking about them. You make me laugh. You make me smile. You make my heart soar high in the sky.” He smiles softly as he stared at the owner of his heart with nothing but adoration, “Will you do me the honor of being my wife?” He finally asked.

Without giving it a second thought, Sumin nodded her head as she repeated the word, “yes”.

Seokjin smiled brightly as he slipped the ring on her left ring finger. He then pulled her up towards him and began twirling her around as he thanked her over and over.

The now engaged couple kissed each other repeatedly before settling into a passionate one.

After what seemed like forever, they finally separated, practically gasping for air.

“Now, you better come back to me or else I’ll go over to Europe and kill you myself.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, princess. There’s nothing in this world that can keep me from marrying you.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sumin noticed her husband have this goofy grin plastered on his face.

She turned towards him and with an amused grin, she asked why he had been staring at her.

Seokjin sighed softly as he closed the photo album and placed it on the coffee table. He then flung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.

Sumin whined and playfully fought against his grasp. He was being extra touchy today.

“Stop hugging me and answer my question, you man child.” Demanded Sumin as she lightly smacked his chest. She then managed to free herself and pulled down her snow colored sweater.

Seokjin clutched his chest, specifically where his heart was located, and pouted.

“My wife doesn’t want me holding her?” He then turned towards where Jinwoo was at, “Jinwoo, your mommy doesn’t love daddy anymore!” Seokjin whined, pretending to sniffle.

Sumin gawked as force chuckles left her mouth. She stared at her husband in utter disbelief.

Now, she regretted marrying him…

Scratch that…

She regretted ever meeting him…

Unbothered retaliating, she stood up and walked over to Jinwoo.

Seokjin suddenly felt a cold, icy breeze.

He couldn’t help but wince as he realized that he officially pissed off his wife.

Not wanting to spend the holidays with an angry wife, he scrambled out of his seat and walked over to her.

Just as she leaned down to pick up her son, the only person that apparently loved her, Seokjin latched his arms around her waist.

Sumin glanced down and narrowed her eyes. She tried to elbow Seokjin in the stomach, but he didn’t budge.

“You have five seconds to let me go or else I’m going to punch you.”

“You would never punch me. You love me too much to actually cause physical harm to me. Mental harm? Maybe. Physical? Never.”

“You sure about that?”

The couple bickered back and forth. Jinwoo stared at his rather entertaining parents, blinking a few times. Tonight was one of those rare moments where he wished that he understood grown up talk. He wanted to know why his mommy seemed angry with his daddy.

From his limited experience of observing his mommy and daddy together. They always appeared to be in love with other. He always saw them hugging and kissing each other.

Oh, he couldn’t forget the wide smiles they wore on their faces.

He needed to do something and fast!

“Tell you what, princess. I’ll release you and let you punch me in the arm.”

“Oh…you’re going to regret ever saying that to me, Jinnie.”

Summer of 1964

A nice, sweet breeze brushed through the beautiful green trees. Birds flew high, creating this sense of envy within the lady bugs and bumble bees that only could fly at a certain level.

Both different colored kites and puffy white clouds decorated the bright blue sky. The sun rays, ever so strong, causes every single citizen to be decked out in the littlest amount of clothes. Though, for young teens, especially the boys, they simply wore a white t-shirt and dark blue denim jeans. They preferred to look cool and sweaty than comfortable during the summer’s heat, but it worked in their favor, especially for seven young fellas.

Before school ended for the great old Summer vacation, these seven fine looking young lads all vowed to win over their crush and end up going steady before the next school year begins.

At first, some of the boys thought it was a stupid idea since they’d rather win over their crush without little to no pressure.

However, one person, a boy with chocolate brown hair and dawned black rimmed glasses, pointed out that if they didn’t have that sense of pressure, then they wouldn’t even remotely think about confessing their feelings.

“Why do you need a bit of pressure, Jinnie man? Out of us seven, your confidence is as high as Namjoon’s IQ average.” Asked a boy with unusual deep baritone. Seriously, a sixteen-year-old teen should not have that deep of a voice. At least…not yet.

“Because, Taehyung, while my confidence level is indeed high, there’s something about Sumin that makes me this fool.”

“I think you’re always a fool, Seokjin. Sumin just makes you a bigger one!” joked another teen with his leather jacket flung over his shoulder.

Seokjin rolled his eyes and mocked his friends’ laughter.

“Man, shut up, Hoseok. Not my fault that that dolly in our fifth period won’t give you the time of day.” He countered, flashing a bright smile.

Now it was Hoseok’s turn to roll his eyes, and just as he opened his mouth to fire back with a snippy comment of his own, their friend, Yoongi, mentioned that Sumin and her friends were walking right in front of them.

Seokjin instantly snapped his attention towards the other side of the road.

Yup.

There she was in all her natural, gorgeous glory.

His jaw nearly dropped at the sight of Sumin wearing a pastel pink dress with a dark red sash neatly tied around. Her hair was down and flowing from the small breeze that brushed by. He could’ve sworn his heart skipped a beat once he saw her sweet, alluring smile and heard the laughter that he had grown familiar with—the best perk of having their lockers next to each other.

“I’ll be right back fellas.” Seokjin mumbled before running across the street. Luckily, there wasn’t any cars coming or else he’d be dead. He swore that he couldn’t die before he claimed Sumin as his own.

To do that…he needed to tell her that he loved her…

“Hey Sumin!” shouted Seokjin as he jogged up to her, stopping the poor girl in her tracks.

A loud groan escaped her lips, “What do you what, Seokjin?” asked Sumin, already done with their little conversation.

Seokjin simply smirked before wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.

“I’m just wondering why my girl is walking around town and failed to tell me,” He then leaned down; their noses almost touched, “I would’ve gladly kept you company doll face.” He whispered in a flirtatious tone of voice.

Sumin gagged while her friends simply laughed. While Sumin was in denial about her so-called feelings for the handsome teen, her friends all knew that she had a giant crush on him. She just loved the attention she received from him, especially since he puts a ton of effort into them.

“First, never call me doll face,” She then lifted her right hand and pinched Seokjin’s left hand, earning a short yelp from him, “Second, I thought I told you to leave me alone, you annoying prick.” She stated, crossing her arms over her chest.

Seokjin rubbed his poor injured hand. Once the tiny pain subsided, he then shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“If I leave you alone, then some other hormonal teen could walk right up to you and take advantage of you. I can’t have that, now can I?” He kindly explained with a knowing expression etched on his face.

Sumin became flabbergasted. He had to be pulling her leg, right?

“Oh…my…God…” She thought as she turned towards her friends, hoping that they’d save her from the irritating pest that was Kim Seokjin.

When they all looked in different directions, avoiding eye contact, Sumin deemed them traitors.

Seokjin, on the other hand, subtly thanked the ladies for not intervening. Today was the day that Sumin would do something that she’d never forget.

She was going to be give him a good old kiss.

After she would say to being his girl, of course.

“Honestly, do I have to get violent, so that you’d leave me the Hell alone?!”

“You, violent? I kind of want to see that since from my years of knowing you, you never strike me as the type to cause intentional harm to others.”

Sumin raised her brow. She looked a bit offended by his words. “Oh, so you don’t think I can get violent? Let’s see about that.” She thought with an amused gleam in her eye.

Suddenly, she formed a first and drew her arm back. Seokjin raised his brow, eyeing the balled up hand with curiosity.

Just as he opened his mouth to ask what she’d plan on doing, he suddenly felt pressure against his nose. He could’ve sworn he also heard a tiny cracking sound as his head was forced back just a bit.

Clutching his bleeding nose, a young teen glared at the backside of the person who caused his constant pain and suffering. Though, at the same time, it was his own damn fault for antagonizing sweet angel to point of being punched square in the nose.

“I can’t believe you punched me in the nose…!” exclaimed Seokjin in a nasally tone of voice.

Sumin turned away from her friends and chuckled loudly, obviously finding his voice incredibly hilarious.

The young lady continued to laugh. Tears formed in her eyes. That’s how hard she laughed.

A few minutes later, she managed to calm herself down. She wiped the remaining tears away as she released a few more chuckles.

Okay.

Now, she’s done.

“Well, that’s what your annoying face gets for egging me on!”

Seokjin puffed his cheeks, preventing him from arguing back.

Again…it’s own damn fault for irritating her.

Sucking up his pride, he said the three words that he’d never thought to say.

“I am sorry…”

Sumin’s eyes widened. Her brows shot up. Did her ears hear him, right?

Did the one and only Kim Seokjin apologize to her?

“You got to be kidding me, Jinnie. You’re seriously apologizing to me?”

“Why do you find that hard to believe?”

Sumin then gestured to him, “Because…you’re you…”

Seokjin rolled his eyes as he wiped away the remaining traces of blood with his shirt.

“Cute, but I know when I am wrong. Today just so happened to be one of those moments, so for that, I apologize.” He said, holding out his hand. He wanted a truce.

With Sumin, she looked hesitant. She observed his body language and noted the defeated demeanor he displayed.

Was he finally going to give up on her?

Was he going to leave her alone for good?

Sumin pursed her lips as she felt a bit odd about this entire situation. She couldn’t quite understand, but the more she thought about Seokjin leaving her alone and not hitting on her made her feel…sad.

That’s odd…

She should be quite happy—over the moon—knowing that Seokjin would give her a sense of peace from now on.

So why did her heart ache just a bit?

“How about this, you take me out for a chocolate shake at the local dinner and we can call it even?”

Wait, did she suggest that the two of them go on a date?

Oh, she officially had lost her damn mind…

Seokjin, on the other hand, could not mask his happiness. Though, at first, he was confused. This woman goes from punching him to pretty much asking him out.

Not wanting to lose the chance, he wrapped his arm around her, careful to make sure that she doesn’t touch the bloody part of his shirt.

“I knew you couldn’t resist my charms for very long.”

“Yeah…don’t push it, Seokjin.”

Holding a bag of ice to her husband’s arm, Sumin both apologized and scolded Seokjin for having a moment lapse in judgment. Why on Earth would he tell her to do something? He should know by now that she’d never back down from a challenge.

Seokjin continued to grin, wincing here and there, as Sumin talked to their son.

“Now, Jinwoo, never repeat what your daddy does when you’re older. Okay?” She lectured in a motherly tone of voice.

Jinwoo, on the other hand, simply babbled, mustering a few actual words here and there. He squealed in delight as he was quite happy to see his parents smiling at each other once again.

Once she saw that his arm wouldn’t bruise too much, Sumin removed the ice bag and placed it on the kitchen island.

“You know… I think it’s starting to becoming a holiday tradition for you to challenge me and for me to actually follow through.” She casually said as she placed herself on his lap.

Seokjin secured her body against his and then rested his chin on her shoulder.

“Correction, it’s a birthday tradition for you to punch me and me apologizing like there’s no tomorrow.” He joked, flashing a bright smile.

Sumin laughed at his comment before agreeing with him on the fact that every time his birthday rolls around, they always end up in that specific predicament.

“And I wouldn’t trade my birthday tradition for the world.” He suddenly confessed, looking at his wife with nothing but love.

Sumin smiled with confusion slowly appearing on her face.

“Why do you say that? I’m sure that we could have a much better tradition where I don’t cause you harm.” She asked before kissing the area where she had punched earlier.

Seokjin smiled softly, “Nah. I don’t want to switch it out. It’s what makes us…unique.”

“You mean unique in the sense that in our prior lives, I always end up punching you at some point in our relationship?” teased Sumin, stifling a laughter that brewed with in her chest.

Seokjin hummed, thinking about his former self throughout time. She had a point. No matter what time period they were in, he always teased her to the point that she punched him somewhere on his body. His least favorite was when she punched him in the nose.

While it had been more than fifty years since then, he swore he could feel his nose throb in pain.

He soon shuddered at the thought.

“Well, I applaud you for consistency my princess.”

Sumin shook her head, though she had a beautiful smile on her face. She then cupped one his cheeks and pulled his face towards her before kissing him sweetly.

“Happy birthday, my other half. I love you to the moon and back.” She said softly.

“Hey…you stole my line, but I guess I can let it slide since I love you to the universe and back.” Seokjin playfully whined.

“You just had to one up me, huh?”

“Well, it is my birthday, princess.”

“And you’re quite lucky that is indeed your birthday or else we’d be debating on who loves who more right now.”

“Who said that we couldn’t?”

A/N: Happy Birthday Seokjin! While, you may not see this, I pray to God you don’t lol, I want you to know that I poured so much love into this because that’s what you deserve. You deserve all the happiness in the world, and I hope that you continue to achieve that with your members, family, and friends. One day, I hope that you find that special someone and he or she can add onto that happiness!

Until then, just keep spreading your love and happiness to us fans. We will gladly fill that void until you find that person. We will keep enjoying your jokes and continue to do so because we support you Kim Seokjin. We believe in you!

Once again, Happy Birthday, Mr. Worldwide Handsome!

Side note: by the time this is released, I should be almost done with the semester! That means I have more time to work on presents for mutuals and updates for both Two Faced and Our Second Chance. Oh! I will also be releasing a revamp version of my CEO!AU Seokjin smut I had written last year. ;) so be on the lookout for that.

Don’t forget to leave a like/reblog/comment/ask in my inbox! I love hearing your thoughts! :)

- Kim

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sockablock · 6 years

Text

(WELP I spent all day writing this, Campaign 1 Soulmate AU, where your soulmate’s last words to you are written on your arm, I’m sorry in advance for any sadness or emotions, MAJOR C1 spoilers below, read on AO3, enjoy!)

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Their Last Words Are With Us

“They’re your soulmarks, dears,” their mother explained, kneeling by the side of the clear-running stream and running water over their tiny arms. “They’re special words that your soulmate will say to you, one day.”

“Soulmate?” Vax echoed as his sister inspected the faint scrawling on her arm. “What’s that?”

“Somebody very important to you,” Elaina said. “Someone who was meant to be by your side, always. As a friend, or as a wife or husband, who will always be there for you.”

“Like Vax?” Vex asked. “Is he mine?”

“Perhaps, dearest.”

“Who’s yours?” Vax asked. “Is it dad? Do you have his words?”

Elaina only hesitated slightly before smiling and saying, “It’s possible, dear. You never really know who the words belong to, until you do.”

Vax frowned slightly at that. “Huh?”

Vex held her arm out for her mother. “What do mine say, Mum?”

Elaina did not answer, instead grinned and poured water over both of the twins’ heads, distracting them and sending them into a fit of giggles and splashing.

Then she finished their baths, wrapped them up in the same old fabrics she always used, and led them back, one holding each hand, to their small home in Byroden.

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Vex’ahlia and Vax’ildan learned many things as they grew older. They learned to mend holes in shirts and how to thread a seam that would not show. They learned to coax seeds into the earth and when to water the tomatoes and how to strip away the potato skins and the names of the farmers and hunters that kindly stopped by to bring meat and grains to their small family. They learned, through trial and error, to strike stones together until sparks flew and to sprinkle dry grass and small twigs over the logs in the stone-lined pit to keep the flames going. They learned the names of the birds that lingered in the trees and dotted the fields. They learned to catch fish, giggling madly and stomping through the river the whole time, from the patient, grey-haired man that lived a few homes down. They learned to watch the clouds for rain, to bundle close to each other when the snow came, to stay brave during thunder and to drink in the sunlight under a sky that always felt like home.

But they did not learn to read. In their small, dirt-dusted, seldom-travelled village, living with their mother in a simple, one-room shack, there was no need. And with no way to know what their soulmarks said, eventually the bright curiosity faded away into occasional cursory glances, with the firm knowledge that, wherever it may be, their soulmates were out there somewhere. They were loved, and meant to be loved. And for the twins, raven-haired children gleefully running barefoot through the grass, as their mother looked on, that was enough.

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“Elaina never gave you any schooling at all?”

Syldor—their father—stood behind the beautifully-carved desk in his office, all high-windows and plush carpeting, rich green curtains pulled aside to reveal a gorgeous view of the bustling streets of Syngorn below. Warm light flooded into the room, and the sun shone brightly, but the temperature was cold under his icy tone, laced with disgust and disappointment.

They wanted to go home.

“She taught us a lot of things,” started Vax, “like how to count and how to sing and when to plant the—”

Syldor held up a hand, and Vax went silent. “But no arithmetic, no history, no geography, no etiquette?”

“No, father,” said Vex.

“Do you know how to read?”

The twins exchanged glances.

“No, father,” Vex said again.

He rubbed his temples with his thumbs. “Then you’ll start with private tutors, until you’ve caught up to your peers. I can’t have you interacting with other children until you have. This is ridiculous.”

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“A Treatise on the Advancement of Elven Culture,” read Vex, clearly enunciating her syllables. “Written by Onvyr Zalim, Senior Scholar of the Lyceum, 549 P.D.”

“Good,” said her tutor, nodding his head. “Your father will be pleased to hear of your progress. Now, here is the copy in Elvish, I want you to have read through this one by tomorrow, and we shall compare the two for quality.”

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“You know what it says now, right?” Vax asked one night after sneaking down the hall to his sister’s room and climbing onto the bed with her. “You’ve looked at it now, right?”

She nodded her head. Her eyes gleamed with excitement.

“Want to trade?” Vax asked. “You can read mine if I can read yours.”

“You’re in mine, I think,” she grinned, rolling up her sleeve. “Look.”

Vax pulled his arm free as well and brought it closer to his sister.

Under the moonlight, the curls of text across pale skin almost seemed to glow.

Vex grinned. “Aw, Scrawny, that’s so sweet.”

Vax tapped his sister’s arm. “Yours is as well,” he said, “but is it weird that they mention me too?”

Vex shrugged. “I plan on you bring a big part of my life, brother. I don’t think that’s strange at all. Maybe in the future you’ll be friends with them.”

“I’d better be,” grinned Vax. “Otherwise you’ve got to change soulmates.”

She rolled her eyes and shoved him out of the bed, and he lay on the floor giggling for some time before picking himself up.

“Good night, sister,” he smiled. “Don’t let the elves bite.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

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They were dining together tonight, Syldor seated at the head of the table and the twins at his left and right, across from one another. He was pleased at their academic progress, he said, even surprised at how quickly they were learning. They tried not to take offense at that, even when he added, with stomach-curdling self-satisfaction, that it must have been his blood finally showing itself in the twins.

After that, the table grew relatively silent, until Vex steeled herself and took a deep breath.

“Father,” she asked tentatively, “do you have a soulmark?”

He was silent for a moment. Then he gave a slight nod. “I do.”

“Could we know what it says?” she asked. “Is it…is it words our mother said to you?”

He sighed deeply. “I doubt it, Vex’ahlia. She never spoke elvish to me before. And, regardless, I would not know if they belonged to her until I died.”

Vax inhaled sharply, almost choking on his dinner. “What?” he asked. “What does that mean, father?”

Syldor put his fork down and gave both twins an incredulous look. “Did Elaina teach you nothing?”

They bristled at that comment, a common one in this household. Vax’s grip on his knife tightened.

Under the table, Vex kicked her brother and shook her head.

“No, father,” she said. “What is it?”

He met her curious gaze. “Soulmarks are words your fated will speak to you, you both know that, correct?”

They nodded.

“Do you know when those words will be spoken?”

-------------------------------------------

Vax collapsed onto the mattress next to his sister.

“It doesn’t have to mean that,” he said sternly. “Maybe they didn’t know it would be…it would be the end, and something happened on their way to see me.”

Vex sniffled, and wiped at the edges of her eyes. “I don’t think so, Vax. I’m…I think it does mean—”

He shook his head adamantly. “No way,” he said. “Not possible.”

Then he pressed his forehead to hers and said, “I promise, that’s not it. We’re going to get old and grey together, and we’ll always be the same age except I’m still gonna be two minutes older. That’s that, alright?”

Vex sniffed again, and tried for a smile. “Alright, brother. Alright.”

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After he left, she traced the scrawl on her arm with her finger.

I love you too, Vex’ahlia. I’ll tell your brother you said hello.

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One of the girls scoffed, her nose flaring and prim lips forming a smirk, and Vex instantly pulled her sleeve down.

“It’s not even in elvish,” the girl laughed, turning to the others. “I bet your soulmate isn’t even an elf.”

“They are,” Vex said defensively, cheeks coloring, “They are.”

“I bet he’s probably some stupid round-ear, from that dinky little town you grew up in,” giggled another. “I bet he’s poor and ugly.”

“Of course he’d be ugly,” said another, “if he’s a human.”

Vex fought for something to say. And when nothing came, she got up from the stone bench and ran to find her brother.

-------------------------------------------

“Humans’re better anyway,” said Vax loyally, hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. “Who’d want a stuffy, boring, dumb elf for a soulmate?”

They sat on one of the rooftops of the market district, watching people far below mill about under the colorful tent-tops and hanging flags and draped silks that adorned the streets. From this far up, they all looked like ants.

Vex nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “I hate this stupid city. I wish I could get out and run away and we could find our soulmates together.”

“Maybe they’ll be half-elves like us,” Vax suggested. “Maybe they’ll hate their dads just as much.”

Vex smiled. “I don’t think anyone could hate their dad as much as we do.”

He laughed. “You’re right, Stubby. That’s a good point.” Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a carefully-wrapped square, that instantly filled the air with a warm, sweet smell.

“Look what I stole today,” he said. “Here, try some, I got it for us to share.”

-------------------------------------------

Vex came back from the forest with leaves in her hair, mud on her boots.

“I’ve found the perfect path,” she said excitedly. “Did you get the weapons?”

Vax stepped away from the bed, revealing a polished wooden bow and a set of daggers. “Teachers didn’t see a thing,” he grinned, then held up a small leather pouch, jingling softly. “And Syldor didn’t see me slip into that dumb office of his either.”

She stifled a laugh. “Great. I can’t wait to get out of this fucking place.”

He picked up a dagger. “You’re in charge now, Stubby,” he said. “I don’t remember shit about living in the woods.”

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Years passed. Vox Machina, formerly known as the S.H.I.T.S., sat around a campfire somewhere on the outskirts of Whitestone, just because they could. Tomorrow they would head back to Emon, after receiving news that Sovereign Uriel would be giving an important speech in the Cloudtop District for all to attend. But, for tonight, they were camping out in the northeastern woods, just because they could.

“Even though we have a perfectly good castle, just a few miles away,” Scanlan added as he plucked idly at his lute. “Even though Percy is the Lord of Whitestone, and we just finished freeing the town from subjugation and we’re huge heroes.”

“I needed time away from there for a bit,” Percy sighed, leaning against a log. “It was too much, all at once.”

“I was only there at the end,” agreed Pike, glowing slightly in her astral form, “but it seemed pretty intense.”

“I like sleeping outside,” Grog said. “Beds never fit me right.”

“If I could make a mansion,” Scanlan grinned, waving his hands around, “I’d make you the biggest room imaginable, with the biggest bed there was. Well, maybe second-biggest room, and second-biggest bed.”

“Thanks, Scanlan.”

Keyleth idly let flames curl around her fingers, and every once in a while, would flick a spark towards the campfire. “It’s nice not having to go anywhere and do anything,” she said cheerfully. “And it’s always good to be in nature.”

Vax nodded. He was giving her small, sideways glances that Vex, perceptive as ever, absolutely noticed. A bit of inspiration hit her.

“Hey,” she said, “we’ve all known each other for a while, right?”

They all exchanged looks.

“Yes?” Scanlan agreed. “That’s true.”

She grinned enthusiastically. “So, you know what would be fun? Why don’t we all tell each other what our soulmarks say? Wouldn’t that be interesting?”

“Er…why?” Vax asked. “Why would we do that?”

Vex rolled her eyes. “We’re like a family now! And it would a good way to learn more about each other! Of course, we don’t have to if we don’t want to.”

Keyleth shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know, Vex. Those…those are the last words your soulmate will say to you. Isn’t…isn’t that kind of personal?”

Pike nodded, and now Scanlan’s eyes turned to her.

Vex’s shoulders sagged. “Alright,” she sighed. “It was just a suggestion. Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” said Percy quickly. “Perhaps some other time? We’re all a bit worn out from the whole…rebellion, and all.” And then, with a small spark of hope at the edge of his tone, he added, “But really. Some…some other time might be nice.”

“I don’t know what mine says,” shrugged Grog from his spot on the log next to Pike. “Can’t read.”

There was a brief silence, as they digested that. Both Vex and Vax felt an odd ping of kinship.

“Do you want someone to read it for you?” Keyleth asked. “Is it in Common?”

He shook his head. “Nope, ‘s in Giant.”

Pike smiled and gave him a pat on the arm. “I’ve asked before too,” she said. “He’d rather not know.”

“Goliaths don’t really care about that sort of thing,” he said. “As long as you’ve got your herd or…or your family, or whatever, it doesn’t matter. You need more than one person in your life, right? There’s always gonna be a lotta people important to you, right? So who cares if one of them is there ‘cause of fate, and destiny and stuff. Sure, they’re special, or whatever, but they’re not the only ones.”

Another moment of silence.

“Well,” said Scanlan, leaning over and giving Grog a pat on the knee, “again, somehow, you’ve proved you’re the wisest of us all, and I’m not even sure you realize why.”

The hulking barbarian grinned back at him. “It’s m’ charm,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’m just amazing.”

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A few hours later, the girls sat together on the ground in Vex’s tent.

“I just really didn’t want to do it with the guys around,” Keyleth said sheepishly. “But I want to show you two. If…if you both want to also.”

“I do,” said Pike. “Definitely.”

“Same here,” grinned Vex. “Ready?”

They both nodded, and as one, all three pulled their sleeves up and brought their arms together.

There was a pause, as they all read one another’s marks.

Pike spoke first. “That’s…very sweet, Vex.” She smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Have you shown it to your brother before?”

She nodded. “But don’t worry,” she added quickly, “it’s not anything to worry about. We made a promise to one another, you know? We’ll be together always.”

Keyleth gave her painfully optimistic pat on the shoulder. “Of course,” she agreed. “And besides, we’ve got the best cleric in the world. She’ll always heal us.”

Pike’s smile grew cheeky, and she stuck her thumb out. “Definitely,” she said.

Vex grinned, and looked back at the writing on Pike’s arm. “Well, at least we know one thing, now.”

“Oh?” Keyleth asked.

“Yes! We know that Pike’s soulmate definitely isn’t Scanlan. If it was, darling, you’d have a novella on your arm. Not just a sentence.”

Pike laughed. “That’s a good point,” she said. “It’d probably cover my whole body, if it were him.”

-------------------------------------------

“Our lives are fucking awful,” Vax sighed as his fingers worked through his sister’s hair. On the ground next to them rested three bright blue feathers.

“At least we are alive,” Vex pointed out. “Unlike…unlike a lot of people back h—in Emon.”

“I was starting to think of it as home too,” he said softly. “It’s…it’s been a long time since we’ve had somewhere to call home. And now it’s gone.”

Vex bit her lip. She could feel her brother beginning to sink, and she quickly reached a hand back, and wiggled her fingers. He paused in his braiding, and took it.

“I love you, brother,” she said, staring forwards. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

A small smile crept across his face. “I love you too, sis. I’m glad you’re here too.”

“This time it’s different. We have each other, and Vox Machina.”

“That’s true,” he said.

“And you’ve got Keyleth, now, don’t you?”

His grip loosened slightly. “I…I’m not sure if I do. She says…she says she loves me, but she’s worried about getting attached. She’s going through a lot right now, and there’s still her Aramente, and now the world is falling apart around us.”

“But she still loves you, right?”

“Well, yes—”

“Are you going to wait for her?”

“Well…yes.”

Vex squeezed his hand. “I’ll be here while you do then,” she said. “And once she sorts herself out and realizes she needs you, I’ll still be here.”

He squeezed back. “Alright,” he said. “Alright.”

She let go, and then grinned and said, “Come now, get back to work. My hair isn’t going to look amazing by itself.”

He laughed, and pulled gently on the braid. “You’re lucky you’re related to me,” he quipped. “Otherwise I’d never help someone as bossy as you.”

-------------------------------------------

“It’s called the Deathwalker’s Ward,” said Vex, pointing to the spot in her journal where she’d written it down. “It’s in some kind of swampy, lake area, near Vasselheim.”

“Great,” sighed Scanlan. “More camping.”

-------------------------------------------

“What happened? I was only down there for thirty seconds—”

“There, there was a trap, the armor was trapped—”

“The healing potion isn’t working, it’s not working—”

“Kashaw, can you do anything—”

“Fuck, fuck, I…”

“Percival, what happened—”

“Kashaw—”

“I-I can bring her back. I can raise the dead.”

-------------------------------------------

Later that night, Percy gazed at the words curling down his arm and thought back to the last thing Vex had said before…before.

She had smiled, radiant despite the gloom and darkness of the underwater tomb. She had been chuckling, not unkindly, at the sight of a surly, halfling woman clambering out from one of the pits.

All good, Kima!

He traced a finger over his skin. Did this mean she wasn’t his soulmate? Or did the words know she wouldn’t have been dead for long? He sighed, and shook his head. He needed to do more research on this.

-------------------------------------------

"I really am sorry, Shaun."

Gilmore gave him a sad smile. "I know you are, Vax'ildan. I am too."

"You are a beautiful, wonderful, hilarious, glorious arcane bastard. You'll find your soulmate, and he will be the most fortunate man in the world."

"Thank you, Vax. I must say, your soulmate is a rather lucky individual as well."

He pulled Gilmore into a hug. "Not as lucky as yours," he assured. "Nowhere near as lucky."

-------------------------------------------

“Percy, have you got any more of those exploding arrows for me?”

“Of course, Lady Vex’ahlia. I always have a supply on hand for my favorite Baroness.”

She grinned. “You flatter me. Am I your favorite only because we killed the rest of Whitestone’s nobility?”

“Well, technically, I suppose. But even if we hadn’t, you’d still be my favorite.”

-------------------------------------------

Vax put his hands in his head and sighed. Next to him, sitting on the bed, Keyleth watched the turmoil storming behind his eyes.

“I know,” he began, “I know with all that’s happened, between my new patron and my sister pretending to gag literally every time we attempt to share a word together, and mostly my own being fucked up in the head for weeks now, that I’ve pushed all of you away. You most of all.”

Then he turned, and met her gaze. There were tears at the corners of his eyes.

“You didn’t deserve any of that. Keyleth, I need you to know, through all of that, everything, nothing has changed about how I…” He trailed off, but then forced himself to continue. “We’ve had so many near-misses. Death is unavoidable. And it’s all the more reason for life to be lived. And it doesn’t matter to me what this is. What we call it. If you are willing to spend some time, any time, with me, then I will simply count myself lucky to have it.”

Keyleth reached over, and took his hand, never breaking eye contact. “It’s…it’s not like I’ve made myself very accessible either,” she admitted. “It’s on both of us. For…for the longest time, I was terrified that I was going to lose you. First to death, and then to the Raven Queen—which is still kind of like death—and then ultimately to yourself.”

Then she took his other hand, and squeezed them both gently. There was a smile creeping across her face. “And then…and then recently, I had an interesting talk with Pike,” Keyleth said, “and she told me something that really stood out to me. It was that some people…just have more of themselves to give. And I realized this whole time that I was afraid of losing you to a future that ultimately has not yet been written, which is stupid.”

“Maybe so,” Vax began softly, but Keyleth shook her head.

“Ultimately, you’re right.” she said firmly. “We have nothing to lose. I love you, Vax. And I’m sorry for being me, that it took me this long to say it.”

Vax sniffled. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Keyleth laughed. There were tears in her eyes. “Yeah. Me too.”

“I love you, though. That’s pretty fucking great.”

She lifted a hand up, still laughing. “That is pretty great, yeah! High five! Yeah!”

And Vax gave her a high five, and then tackled her onto the mattress, now both of them laughing like idiots and grinning madly and giggling every time they accidentally bumped into one another, or clumsily hit elbows together.

And later, that morning, as the light filtered in through their window, they traced the markings on each other’s forearms and smiled.

“I love you, Keyleth of the Air Ashari,” read Vax, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She smiled softly, and tapped his arm. “I love you, Vax’ildan. I’ll…” and her voice broke slightly, but she shook her head and continued, “…I’ll see you again.”

-------------------------------------------

“Oh, I love being this high up in the air!”

Vex leaned over the railing of the airship they had chartered, now soaring above the vast expanse of gleaming, deep-blue water far below, the rippling and sparkling surface of the Ozmit Sea.

Percy, standing next to her, smiled. “Is it better than a broom?” he asked.

She turned to face him, and her braid flew behind her in the wind. She glowed in the warm sunlight.

“It is, darling,” she laughed. “I love my broom, but it’s much better.”

Percy nodded, and turned back to look over the railing at the clouds beyond. “I’m going to install an airship port in Whitestone,” he said.

-------------------------------------------

Glintshore came and went, and in the smoking aftermath of the battle—shrapnel scattered across the scorched crater and corpses dotting the landscape and Kynan shaking on the ground and Ripley’s eviscerated flesh painting the dirt crimson—Vox Machina gathered around the limp form of Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski De Rolo III, bullet wounds no longer bleeding, breath gone from his chest.

Vax and Pike were the closest, the Champion of Death and the Cleric of Sarenrae carefully examining his body for any possible signs of life, and mulling over the next course of action. Vex and Keyleth watched on, and Scanlan and Grog romped through the background, making sure the hired mercenaries were finished, and giving the rest room to work and to grieve.

Then Vax turned around, and gently asked his sister, “Vex’ahlia, what were your last words to him?”

She blinked, tears still streaming down her face. “I don’t, I don’t know, I don’t remember.”

He tried again. “Did you tell him that you’ll miss him?”

She frowned, confusion beginning to creep in. “No? I, no, I never said that.”

He nodded, and now his expression was firm. “Percy’s not dead for good,” he said adamantly. “Not for good. We’ll be able to bring him back.”

“What makes you—” Scanlan began.

And then realization hit. They all stood in silence for a moment.

“You read it,” breathed Keyleth, and Vax nodded.

“You don’t know for sure,” Vex whispered. “You don’t know for sure.”

“I don’t,” Vax agreed, “but I’m pretty damn certain.”

“Let’s get him into the mansion,” Pike said softly. “We can rest, and get our spells back, and we’ll do the ritual tomorrow.”

-------------------------------------------

“I should have told you. It’s yours.”

-------------------------------------------

“Percival, would you like to see my soulmark?”

Percy blinked a few times, and turned around to face her. Vex’s skin was pale in the moonlight, her eyes anxious but hopeful. He reached for the beside table and pulled his glasses over, and they both shifted into an upright position.

“Do…do you truly wish to show me?” he asked.

She nodded. “I…I think it might belong to you. I want you to.”

He smiled faintly. “You know, I’ve always hoped mine belonged to you as well. Would you…?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “I would.”

They pressed their arms together, words towards the sky.

“I love you, darling,” read Vex softly. “I’ll miss you.”

Percy traced the text on her arm with a gentle finger. “I love you too, Vex’ahlia,” he read. “I’ll…oh. I’ll tell your brother you said hello.”

He met her gaze. “Vex,” he said softly.

She shook her head. “No, no, darling. Believe me, we’ve talked about it plenty before, but no. If anything, you should watch yourself any time you go off to visit him alone, understood?”

He laughed quietly. “Alright, alright. Of course.”

She smiled, and leaned in for a kiss. Their eyes were closed, so neither of them could see the worry written across Percy’s face, or the desperate denial on Vex’s.

-------------------------------------------

“He really is gone,” Pike sighed, looking down at the ground.

Vex put an arm across her shoulder. “He…I know Scanlan will be back,” she said. “I think he just needs time alone.”

“I…I was just starting to think…”

The little gnome shook her head. “Nevermind,” she said. “Never…nevermind.”

-------------------------------------------

“Oh, no,” said Taryon, waving his mug jovially and shaking his head. “No, I’m not doing that again.”

“Alright,” said Grog with a careless shrug. “Alright, fine. That means more ladies for me. You want me to find you a guy, or something?”

Taryon considered this proposal. Then he looked up at the large mountain of a man, eyebrow raised and tattoos dark against his grey skin.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Tary asked.

Grog’s other eyebrow went up. “What? What does that have to do with anything?”

Tary sighed, and shook his head again. “Nevermind,” he said. “Just…just go have fun for the both of us, how about that?”

Grog grinned. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah, that sounds like somethin’ I could do.”

-------------------------------------------

“Zephra is beautiful in the autumn,” smiled Vax as he watched Keyleth’s hair blow in the breeze. She was standing in a clearing, leaves tumbling around her. “I can’t wait to spend the next hundred autumns here with you.”

She reached out with a hand to where he was sitting in the grass, and pulled him up to join her. “More than a hundred,” she said firmly. “Half-elves live a long time, and we’re retired now, right?”

He laughed, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Sure, Kiki. Right now, we’re retired.”

-------------------------------------------

"Do any of us actually know how to run a bakery?"

"Didn't you say it's all about getting experience?" Taryon asked. "It's like a new adventure! One that we will all be inexperienced in, at the beginning."

"I can sort of bake," said Pike. "Sort of."

"Most of us, then," Taryon corrected. "Do we have a name, yet?"

-------------------------------------------

“And do you, Vex’ahlia Vessar, take this man to be your husband?”

In the silence of night, with only quiet chirping of crickets and the rustling of the wind through the leaves of the Sun Tree, Keeper Yennen’s voice sang strong and bright.

Vex’ahlia’s heart soared.

“I do.”

-------------------------------------------

One day, a tall, dark-skinned man from Ank’harel came to visit with a lanky, half-orc bard-barian in tow.

Their retirement ended.

-------------------------------------------

There was a knock, so Scanlan fastened his silk, royal-purple robe, put on his most charming smile, and with a flick of his wrist, the door to his room swung open, to reveal Pike.

A million lines, ranging from I don’t remember asking for an angel, to why, isn’t this a pleasant surprise, to oh, I see Ioun has answered my prayers after all, to aren’t I a lucky gnome tonight?

He managed to hold all of them back and instead gave her a small grin. “Hi, Pike. What’s up?”

She closed the door behind her, and took a step forwards.

“Hey, Scanlan. I was wondering if I could ask you a question.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Well, don’t be a stranger, come and sit down, ask away.” He motioned towards the velvet couch by his fireplace, and they both took a seat.

“Scanlan, what does your soulmark say?”

He balked. This wasn’t exactly unfamiliar territory, since soulmates was a rather rich vein for pickup lines and for hitting on people in bars. But this—seated before a warm fire with Pike sitting not too close, but also not too far away—was nothing he could ever anticipated.

“Uh…well…why do you want to know?”

“I was just wondering,” Pike said with suspiciously carefree nonchalance. “If you don’t want to show me, I totally get it—”

He pulled down the sleeve of his robe, and her eyes instantly trained in on the words.

“It’s gnomish,” she said, slightly surprised.

He shrugged, and gave her a grin. “I’d like to think it’s honoring my humble roots,” he said.

“Can…can I read it out loud?”

“Of course.”

“Stop it, Scanlan. Take all the time you need.”

She bit her lip, and traced the words slowly. It sent a strange tingling up Scanlan’s arm.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” he asked, defaulting in the face of uncertainty to what he knew best: talking. “I mean, I’ve always wondered what I might have said to the other person to get them to respond with that, or what they mean with take all the time you need, but you can never be sure, right? Anyways, I think it’s the universe’s personal laugh that I’ve also got Stop it, Scanlan written on my arm, you’ve got to admit that’s pretty funny…”

He trailed off as Pike stood up.

“Thanks, Scanlan,” she said, slightly strained. “I…I appreciate you showing it to me. I’m going to bed now.”

She started walking out of the room.

“Wait, Pikey, is everything alright? Are…are you alright?”

She turned, just before the door, and gave him a smile. “I’m okay,” she said lightly. "Don’t worry, Scanlan, I’m okay.”

She closed the door behind her, and Scanlan was left staring at the elegant woodwork in the silence. He turned back around, and lay down on the couch. Eventually, tracing his arm where Pike’s finger had been and wondering idly what she had been thinking, he fell asleep next to the crackling fire.

-------------------------------------------

“Are you all ready to go?” Percy asked. “I…I’m not sure what we’ll find on the other end, or how we’ll be getting back.”

“I’m ready,” said Grog. “I wanna go kill those creepy culty fucks.”

Vax grinned. “I agree with the big man,” he said. “They’ve got it coming.”

“Ready,” said Keyleth, gripping the Spire in her hands.

“As I’ll ever be,” said Scanlan, shooting a wink that Pike and Grog, recently apologized to, grinned at.

“Let’s go, darling,” said Vex. “It’s time.”

-------------------------------------------

Vax was dead.

And then he wasn’t.

-------------------------------------------

“I can’t help but hate her,” Keyleth shook her head, face buried in Vax’s chest as they lay together on the bed of their room in Scanlan’s Magnificent Mansion.

“I know,” Vax sighed. “I know.”

“It’s just…It’s just not fair. It’s not fair. You’re my soulmate, Vax. We were only going to have a hundred years together. And now…and now…”

“I know,” he said again, stroking her hair. “I’m sorry.”

“I hate her,” sobbed Keyleth. “I hate her.”

-------------------------------------------

In the other room, down the hall, Vex rubbed at her eyes.

“He’s my brother,” she said.

“Yes,” Percy said back.

“He…if we’re successful, he won’t live past this year.”

“Yes.”

“And if we aren’t, the world will end.”

“Yes.”

“I want to world to end,” she whispered. “I don’t want to live in a world without him.”

Percy put a hand on her back, and when she began to cry, he pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry, Vex. I’m sorry.”

“It was right there,” she breathed between sobs, wanting to choke on her own words. “It was right there, in my stupid soulmark. It was right there, all along. He was going to die first. And then…and then you would, and you would see him for me.”

Percy nodded. His own body was starting to shake as well.

“We knew that I wouldn’t live as long as you,” he tried. “I’m human.”

“I know,” she said, “I know. But I wish you weren’t. And I wish Vax wasn’t going to die either.”

-------------------------------------------

“And…And I’m going to miss you. I’ll be gone soon. I don’t even know if we have time. A lot of us could be dead soon, but I’m not offering you this thing, but I’m offering you an experience.”

There was a long pause.

“I don’t know a lot of big words, but I feel like I need a little bit of clar-if-ication.”

“I don’t know if we have time for this, but maybe, for old time’s sake, because I love you and I know you love me and we share this in common—”

“—yep, definitely—”

“—I thought maybe we could prank Scanlan together.”

-------------------------------------------

The day came. And from somewhere within the dark city of Thar Amphala, lurching from the movement of the terrible, enormous body that carried it, they all linked hands and closed their eyes and nodded.

And then they began to climb.

-------------------------------------------

Scanlan, the tiny gnome bard perched up, thousands and thousands of feet in the air, held aloft by nothing but the shimmering, translucent purple form of Bigby’s Hand, made of pure arcana and here by his own force of will, looked up at Vecna, the Ascended as the sickly green swirl of a teleportation spell began to creep around the emaciated, bloodied avatar of the new god.

Scanlan raised a finger, eyes dark and cold.

“This was going to save Vax,” he said, and fired off a Counterspell that, for once, was not driven by song or dance or laughter—just the enraged sorrow of a bard who had, long ago, buried his mother, nearly just lost his daughter, and soon, all too soon, would lose one of his best friends.

It connected. There was no question there.

And then, finally, Keyleth was handed the tome.

-------------------------------------------

In the distance, the impossibly gargantuan skeleton of the massive titan loomed over the city of Vassalheim, as cheering and shouts of surprised delight burst over the night sky like fireworks. Lanterns were beginning to bloom along the city skyline, and people were coming out of their homes and armies were lowering their weapons as now the news spread like wildfire that finally, finally, the Undying King had fallen.

But Vox Machina were not celebrating.

Vax pressed his forehead to his sister’s and put his hands on her face. Behind him, the silent form of the Raven Queen watched on, unimaginably distant and terrifyingly close, all at the same time.

“I never had a greater friend than you,” he said softly. “And we traveled a lot, but I never had a greater friend than you.”

Vex shook her head, tears hitting the grass below them. “I feel like she’s taking part of me away,” she breathed, a wracking, shaking sob.

He stroked her cheek. “I will bring it with me to remind me of you.”

“I don’t know how to live.”

“I will see you again.”

“I know.”

“I will see you again. And I will tell your mother that you say hello.”

She laughed, a short a humorless laugh. “Please.” and then she sobbed again and said, “I love you. I don’t accept this.”

He nodded. “I know that it’s hard. And I am sorry.”

“I’m going to find you.”

He wrapped her into a hug. And then, after a moment, after one final hand on her back and kiss to her forehead, he pulled away and turned to Keyleth.

The druid walked up to him, and threw her arms around his neck, tears streaming down her face. He pressed his lips to hers, and afterwards whispered, “I’m sorry it’s so cold.”

“I don’t care,” she said. “I don’t accept this. I love you.”

He smiled. “I will never stop loving you.”

“This isn’t fair,” she said.

“I know.”

She looked him in the eye, and her heart broke all over again. “I guess…I guess we have to say goodbye.”

He took her hands, just as she had, all those nights ago, and squeezed them gently. “For now,” he agreed. “I love you, Keyleth of the Air Ashari.”

She stole one final kiss, and murmured back, “I love you, Vax'ildan. I’ll see you again.”

After what felt like the lifetime they would not have, he pulled away, and took a breath he did not need, and began to walk towards the dark cloak of the Raven Queen. With each step, tiny flowers began curling around his feet, small white petals blooming against the dark green grass where they stood, until a carpet of snowdrops trailed back from Vax’s pale form to the rest of his family. He turned to face them.

“S.H.I.T.S.!” he called, voice wavering but firm and strong. “How lucky I have been to have had all of you. How lucky, indeed. Thank you.”

Then he strode into the embrace of his mother, and his patron.

And then, it was just feathers.

-------------------------------------------

Years passed. Keyleth of the Air Ashari watched alongside Percy and Vex in the shade, as three dark-haired and two white-haired children chased each other through the grass and around the gardens.

“Julius looks just like him,” said the druid with a sad smile. “But you said Jonathan’s the one who talks to birds?”

“Yes,” said Vex, “and he thinks you’re very cool, so I think you should go and talk to him later.”

“I might just do that,” Keyleth nodded. “Maybe he might want to come visit Zephra, one of these days.”

“Take Olivia also,” said Percy. “We think her magic is arcane, but it might do her some good. Besides, she’s his twin, and they don’t like being separated.”

“I can see how that might work,” said Keyleth. Then she looked at Percy and Vex and asked, “Say, did Pike and Scanlan set a date yet? I know gnomes don’t really operate on the same timeline as everyone else, believe me, I know, but have they said anything yet?”

“No,” said Percy, “I don’t think so. But knowing how quickly they fell all over each other, after everything that happened, I’m sure it’ll be soon.”

-------------------------------------------

“Scanlan?” Pike asked, from their spot in bed.

“Yes, Pikey?”

“Remember when you showed me your soulmark, and you mentioned something about wondering why it said what it did?”

“Yes, I remember.”

Pike rolled her sleeve up, and held her arm out to Scanlan.

“It’s in gnomish,” he said, slightly surprised.

“It’s my humble roots,” she grinned. “Go on, read it.”

“I won’t make…” Scanlan faltered, but with a gentle nudge he tried again. “I won’t make you wait long, Pikey.”

“Stop it, Scanlan,” Pike recited. “Take all the time you need.”

Their eyes met.

“So…you think…?”

“I’m pretty sure I know,” said Pike, and grinned. “You forest gnomes live a long time.”

“Are…are you alright with—”

“I am,” said Pike. “I really, truly am.”

“Oh, good,” said Scanlan, and he smiled as well when she leaned in for a kiss.

-------------------------------------------

“Mama, what do these marks mean?” asked Percival IV, holding his arm up for his mother to see.

“That’s called a soulmark, darling. It’s words your soulmate will speak to you, one day.”

“How will I know who my soulmate is?”

“You just do, when the time comes. I know that sounds confusing, but trust me, alright? When you meet the right person, you’ll know.”

“Did you meet the right person, Mama?”

“I did, darling. And guess who that person was?”

“Who?”

“Your father,” and here, she bopped her son on the nose and he started to giggle.

“But, you know, these marks don’t always mean you have to spend time with only your soulmate. When your mama traveled around with Vox Machina, well, it almost felt like all of them were my soulmates.”

Her son considered this. “Like when I’m with Elaina and Julius and Olivia and Jonathan and Trinket and Dad and Auntie Keyleth and Uncle Grog and Auntie Pike and Uncle Scanlan and—”

She grinned, and bopped him again. “Yes, darling, just like that.”

-------------------------------------------

The wedding was small, and Grog carried Scanlan down the aisle on his shoulders as Kaylie played a bridal march on her fiddle, and Great-uncle Wilhand, arthritic and nearly bald, officiated.

There were two flower girls and one ring bear, that carried the three ring-bearers on his back.

-------------------------------------------

“Keyleth?”

They were seated beneath the Sun Tree, watching the clouds roll by over Whitestone, below.

“Yes, Vex?”

“Do…do you think you’ll ever find someone else?”

There was a pause.

“I…I’m not sure,” she said. “Maybe. It’s…it’s still too new. But I know he would want me to move on.”

“You have all the time in the world, darling.”

She laughed. “Oh, I know.”

“I know there’s a lot to be said about soulmates, but still. We’re not soulmates, and I still feel connected to you. To everyone in Vox Machina.”

Keyleth nodded. “I know what you mean,” she said with a small smile. “I think…I think it’s always nice to know who your soulmate is, but it’s also nice to just…to just spend time with other people.”

“Yes,” said Vex, poking Keyleth in the arm. “It is.”

-------------------------------------------

Nobody knows the reason why, or how, or who is behind the curling lines of text that appear on the skin of every newborn child across the planes. Perhaps it’s the work of sentimental deities, brushing their fingers against the arms of their creations to let them know that no matter what, in this chaotic, unpredictable, dangerous world, they will never be alone. Perhaps it’s the gods of love, helping mortals find the ones with whom they will share every full, deep breath of air and every beat of their hearts. Perhaps it’s the work of trickster gods, playing their jokes on those who will never know who their other half is, until the end. Or, perhaps, it’s the work of the Raven Queen herself, Weaver of Fates, Matron of Death, leaving her mark on creation and urging all to find their fated and enjoy the time they have together, before the inevitable.

Nobody really knows.

But maybe, as a wise goliath once said around a campfire in the woods outside Whitestone, under the night sky with his friends at his side, “who cares?” In the end, you stick with the people you love, all the people you love, and perhaps, maybe then, it won’t matter what fate tried to tell you. You’ll have found the ones you wanted, and you’ll have been with the ones you needed, all along.

And that? That is more than enough.

-------------------------------------------

This was a place, almost a hundred years later, where the sun was bright, and the grass seemed to glow, and the skies always felt like home.

“Your sister says hello.”

There was a laugh, and a smile, and a warm hand on his shoulder.

“I know, Freddie. I know.”

568 notes · View notes

linoholic · 6 years

Text

Poly!Wontaek

Requested: hi! may i have a poly vixx lr scenario please? I think that it would be great and that youd write it well

Pairing: VIXX Ravi x Leo x Reader

Warnings: none

Sorry for the long wait. A lot of stuff has Ben going on and I haven't been in the right frame of mind, so I put off working on requests because I felt they would be substandard (not that this is any good anyways). But I am finally starting toCloselyagain and hopefully will be a little quicker in getting stuff out.

Ever since you were young you knew of soulmates

Everybody was born with a small tattoo on their wrist, that was black and white until you touched your soulmate, making it bloom with beautiful colours

But you

You had two tattoos

They were on the same wrist, entwined together

From afar, they could easily be mistaken as one tattoo, but up close it was obvious that it was two different ones, the styles slightly different

It wasn't unheard of for a person to have more than one soulmate

Your parents had reassured you of that straight away

And that was cool, but you were a kid and had much more important things to worry about than soulmates, such as getting the good box of colouring pencils and figuring out your multiples of seven

As you got older though, you got curious about your tattoos

So you took to the internet and found various forums where people talked about having multiple soulmates, and their experiences in polyamorous relationships

And some of the stories were...really cute actually

And for the first time in your life you wanted to find your soulmates

But alas, it had to be put on hold, because you had must got a new job and you needed to focus on that

So off you go to Seoul, the idea of soulmates pushed to the back of your mind by the excitement and nervousness that comes with big changes

Your new job is as part of a management team at an entertainment label, Jellyfish

Nothing exciting, just an assistant of an assistant really

But the people are nice, the pay is good and the dress code is reasonable, so you are happy

Well, you are happy when you aren't sleep deprived and carrying a large stack of papers, running five minutes late to a meeting because you had to run up four flights of stairs thanks to the lift being under maintenance

So it is no surprise that when you bump into someone you only shout a "sorry!" over your shoulder before rushing off

And it's also no surprise that you are too distracted to notice part of your wrist start blooming with the most beautiful shades of blue

But someone does notice something

Leo and Ravi are sitting on a bench in the practice room together one afweren't, having a break from practising

Leo is pulling of his sweatshirt, hot from practice, when Ravi suddenly grabs his wrist

"Your met our soulmate and didn't tell me?" Ravi whines, which catches the attention of the rest of the group who are quick to gather round the two

You see, Ravi and Leo are soulmates

Ravi has a beautiful blue flower on his wrist, and Leo has one in red

And both of them have a matching one still yet to be coloured

The two have been together since before vixx even debuted, during their trainee days when they discovered they were soulmates

And all this time they have been patiently waiting the third and final person to join them

So of course, all of the group are going to be excited, thinking Leo found that other person

But Leo just looks down at his wrist in confusion, and upon seeing his fully coloured tattoos shows more shock than his members have ever seen on his face

"But I didn't...? Oh."

That is when he tells them how he bad bumped into a mysterious person earlier that day

Annnd that is when the serious concept kings image vixx has is dropped and they are running round the building looking at the wrist of every single person they come across (well, Leo, Hongbin and N had to be convinced but shh)

By this point you had finished the meeting and were getting a much needed cup of coffee in one of the break rooms when someone skids into the room, bumping into an older woman

The woman laughs it off, asking what he is doing

"What are you up to Sanghyuk?"

"Hi noona! Leo found his soulmate but doesn't know who it is, so we are on a mission to find them"

Hearing soulmates being mentioned, on whim you take a glance at your wrist

Only to drop your mug in shock upon seeing one of the flowers, now with pretty blue petals

Upon hearing the crash, the two at the door turn to face you, "are you OK"'s on the tips of their tongues

But Hyuk suddenly shouts in excitement upon seeing your arm and before you know it you are being dragged through the corridors, with you staring at your tattoo in shock the whole time

You come to a stop in a practice room, and Hyuk kindly asks you to sit down while he gathers the others

Now, you are already in shock, having just found out that you have apparently crossed paths with one of your soulmates

And you only heard Hyuk mention one name, Leo

So you are only expecting to meet one soulmate

It is safe to say that when you see two men walk in holding hands, one skipping along slightly and the other with a soft smile on his (very handsome) face, matching tattoos on show

Well, you are even more in shock, if your hopes turn out to be real

One of the two walk over to you, holds out his hand for a handshake and introduces himself as "Ravi"

But none of you are really focused on introductions, instead staring intently at the tattoos, holding your breath

And when both of them start to colour themselves in, cheers break out in the room and a huge smile breaks across your face

Ravi pulls Leo closer and brings the three of you into a hug

And the other boys trickle out of the practice room to leave the three of you alone to get to know each other

And that is the start of an amazing relationship

At first you feel a little insecure

Here are two amazing boyfriends who had just as amazing a relationship before you turned up, and you aren't quite sure where you fit in yet

But they are quick to make you feel wanted, because you are

Ravi is very vocal about his love for you both

He is the one who says "I love you" first to you, catching you off guard

And from then on he never stops saying it

You also find out he is a little clingy, always putting his chin on your shoulder or an arm round your waist

Leo, who by now is used to it, just takes it with a straight face, just shrugging his shoulders with a small smirk when you beg him for help out of the smothering embrace Ravi has you in

Leo is more subtle in his affections, his actions speaking more than his words

You're thirsty? Suddenly a water bottle is held in front of your face

Stressed? Oh look, now you're on the couch in with an angelic voice whispering in your ear

He is also the type to not talk about his problems though

But you quickly learn his tells for when he is stressed or upset, thanks to observation and Davis guidance

You and Leo are the first to hear anything Ravi produces

And it is the same with anything Leo does

You are their very own hype squad

You and Ravi have so much fun complimenting Leo until he is blushing from head to toe

He is so cute when he is flustered, and you and Ravi find it absolutely adorable

Though you have to watch out because he isn't against flicking your forehead or smacking your areas to get you to stop

Likewise, you and Leo find Ravi the cutest thing ever when he is running and hiding behind one of you while the other catches the "absolutely ginormous" bug and release it outside

There is an inside joke about Ravi being your sugar daddy, because he loves buying you things and treating you, to clothes, jewellery, meals, everything you could want

He just loves to spoil you

He also spoils you with kisses

At first he might be a little shy to initiate physical affection but once he realises you don't mind you better be ready to have swollen lips 24/7

Leo is more reserved with this, instead preferring small, shorter kisses, though he won't say no to make out sessions

Now, of course, the company knows of the relationship, and they are alright with it

They can't stop fate after all

But it is all kept from the public, who don't even know the two men are soulmates, as idols tattoos are usually kept hidden by clothes and makeup

And so dates out and about aren't too common

But when you do go out it is usually somewhere with animals

Animal cafes are probably your most frequented places, because Leo has a love for both cute creatures and coffee and you and Ravi like to exploit that

But dates also consist of the three of you just sitting in the same room, quietly working on your own thing, music playing lowly in the background, one of you singing along under your breath making the other two softly smile

When it comes to cuddling, whether sleeping or not, you are in the middle, no doubt about it

With both men facing you, arms draped across your body and legs all tangled together

This is because not only do they both like being the big spoon, but it is also a way of silently reassuring you that they love you as much as they love each other

And you can be assured that if Leo doesn't want to get out of bed, you and Ravi aren't getting out either because he will drag you back down with him (unless you bribe him with coffee)

The three of you have matching rings, beautiful pieces that Ravi bought because they reminded him of your tattoos

Other than that though, matching things aren't really, well, a thing

Not that it really matters of course

Of course, teasing from the other members happened a lot before you joined the relationship, and even more so after you did

Hyuk likes to try and take responsibility for your relationship and uses that as an excuse for everything, whether he is trying to get one of you to buy him food or trying to get out of trouble (a well placed smack courtesy of Leo usually shuts him up though)

N acts like a mother, cooing over how cute you all are and he even tries to give you the talk

"Why are you only gelling me this?"

"I've already lectured the boys on keeping it safe and keeping it out of the dorm, at least while we are there"

Ken is just load and annoying in general

And if you look closely you can see a rare Hongbin silently judging in the background

When the boys have promotions or are on tour etc, you all keep up via texts and video chats

"Are you eating?" and "Are you sleeping?" are regularly asked questions during these times

Though on the rare occasions when you have time off, you will join them, cheering them on from backstage

And when it's an LR concert, it is safe to say that you and N are amongst the crowd of fan and cheering the loudest

Of course they support you as much as you do them

Anything you do, anything you dream of doing; they will be backing you every step of the way

You want to sing? Say hello to your new vocal coach Leo

Want to open a cafe? Suddenly vixx are volunteered as taste testers

You simply want a pet? Ravi is helping you find a little brother or sister for Butt

After a while, your relationship is revealed to the public

At first, a picture of the three of yours wrists together is posted onto one of the vixx social media profiles, not saying who it was or anything

So of course Starlights went crazy making up theories of who had found their soulmates

Was it one member? Two? Were all three soulmates members of vixx?

Everyone who knows the truth lowkey enjoys seeing this madness in the kpop community

But it is finally revealed when Ravi all nonchalantly posts a photo of you, Leo and Butt snuggled on the couch, soulmate tattoos able to be seen if you look closely

Starlights take it really well, though some do joke about their ships being dead, but overall you get so much support

And everybody is just happy for the three of you

Because although your relationship isn't shown off that much, due to the boys being idols and having to be professional and all that; whenever the three of you do show each other off, people can just see how much you care for each other

(Also, when people find out the Leo and Ravi have been together since debut, they go crazy and petition for the two to become actors)

Requests are open

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chosebravery · 6 years

Text

me, late? you can (troy bolton vc) bet on it!!!!11!1

good morning / afternoon / evening, my children. my name is tea (or t, or anything you want; s/h pronouns) and i have been struggling with a flu for over a week now and things,,,have been difficult but i'm going to power through because i already adore this rp (the writers in here are no joke???) and i ought to present yall my daughter. i will babble a lil about her under the cut and if you want me to reach you out, like this post!!

* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ ELIZABETH ROSIER NEE HEPBURN ] ! the muggles say she holds resemblance to [ ALICIA VIKANDER ]. the [ TWENTY EIGHT ] year old [ female ] was [ WARM & HELPFUL ] before the war, but have now become [ STUBBORN & SELF RIGHTEOUS ]. though they were once a part of [ GRYFFINDOR ], they have now taken up the position of a [ HEALER ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ MUGGLEBORN ] is actually [ AN ORDER MEMBER ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet.

the only child out of a quite unlucky couple, elizabeth was born in a household where people made gold out of grass. her parents were poor and unfortunate, but they loved each other--her father still claims so, even after her mother's passing when the girl was just three. mr. hepburn's optimism was what supported them--that and his gig at a pawn/repair shop at linlithgow; while he went on that and any part times he could find to keep up rent and put his daughter through school, said girl would be at home, holding onto what needed to hold and distracting herself with tales of other worlds.

as the daughter of an immigrant and an outsider, elizabeth grew to be peculiar, standing out from the rest of the people in the small town she came to live on after her mother’s passing. on the mid fifties, on a scottish town where nothing happened, people didn’t take very kindly to strangers disrupting their routine, but it was where elizabeth was to grow nevertheless; with a few years, name calling was something she learned to become unfazed by. despite however isolated and shunned she was then, she never imagined the magic of her books could become reality--the butterflies in her stomach were both of excitement and nervousness, a mix of feelings she would come to feel many times over the rest of her life. for good or bad, she was different (and this, too, would follow her for the rest of her life).

when her letter came, what she assumed to be a well conceited prank turned out to be her new astonishing reality. as she went through a wall and boarded a train, she was both terrified and amazed.

soft spoken, quiet and isolated, with a preference for long books and a tendence for distraction, elizabeth hepburn was hardly the model person for a gryffindor--she didn't think of herself courageous when the hat was placed on her head either, but there are all kinds of courage in this world, she was told. in the seven years to follow she had never watched injustice go free, nor she backed out when someone (anyone) needed her; beneath honey and unfailing kindness, in moments necessary, her voice was like thunder and her will unbreakable.

of course, sometimes it wavered--many were the times she almost gave up the wonderful magical castle when she thought of her father, all alone. he has refused this many times: she was meant for something more than a small town with ordinary people who did not appreciate her, mr. hepburn would tell her.

those years away at hogwarts installed a tradition of very long letters, written at least twice by week--flowery, extensive and very descriptive, they are still kept to this day by the old hepburn, and its sight is enough to make the daughter blush and smile sheepish. she is a sight when excited, all who know her know her passion.

her career in “wizard medicine” was a suggestion by a professor, who was aware of her excelling in herbology and potions, and her people skills (ironically, since she, then, was not the most social kid & her willingness to socialize and reach out was belated). despite over ten years working on st mungo, she still aspires for something more; her husband & her shares a dream to open a book shop of their own, but due to more pressing events, it keeps being pushed forward.

she married domitius on the spring of 72, about 26 months after they bonded while she nursed him back to health. her interest in men -- or relationships in general -- had been nonexistent until then, so it was a surprise not only for his prejudiced pureblooded family but also for those who knew elizabeth. regardless, she claims he is first her best friend, her soulmate, then her husband--he is also father of her children: five year old twins daniel and isolde & little cosette, not much older than a year old. if you catch fictional characters names in there, you’re spot on (she is a nerd even as a mom, yes--fitting too, as her own name had come from the iconic austen heroine).

currently she works at the janus thickey ward as its healer in charge, although her presence is often required on the dai llewellyn ward due to her experience with some incidents’ injuries; it’s not uncommon to see her reading the newspapers, books and letters to the patients.

however, it has been over a year since she last stepped on st mungo. her youngest child was born on early 1978, so elizabeth has been on maternity leave since then; as much as she loves her children (and she does, overwhelmingly so), the life of a stay at home mother does not agree with her anxiety so she is very eager to return to her routine, even if it means she has to stay away from her children for more than she wished she would--she takes as advantage her father is so good with them, and always willing to crash in their spare bedroom.

she is virtually incapable of staying still--if not with her nose in a book, it’s likely she is walking around, doing whatever needs to be done around wherever she is (and this does not only apply to her own house, much to her friend’s dismay). her nervous tics include tapping her fingers, tucking her hair behind her ears and biting her lips; fiddling with her clothes and her wand also apply so it’s not uncommon she is keen to hold people’s hands to prevent the anxiety to be too transparent.

elizabeth’s ethical code is incorruptible, which is one of the main causes for any friction she may create with others--another would be her inability to stay still in face of wrongdoing; blindly, she will not admit she is a bit of a nosy judgmental holier-than-thou. thankfully (debatable for some), all that makes her just right to fight for the order.

elizabeth has an intimate knowledge of muggle mechanics, due to her father’s main line of work during her childhood years; even now, when she has lived most of her life in the wizard world, she is still curious and eager to learn and be connected with the muggle world and often finds herself doing things the muggle way.

EXTRAS (ish):

she is a saggitarius!! which is not what people first think of her, but elizabeth is just like um don’t judge a book by its cover ok. but i don’t blame people who take her as a virgo because ya know, girl is kinda....very virgo lmao (it is her ascendant anyways shhh). she was also born on 1950, which makes her a grandma tiger; she graduated hogwarts on 1968 (i don’t think there’s anyone who could have been classmates w her but,,,i’d die for this so pls bring me more old people!!!)

her wand is made of laurel wood & phoenix feather; it is quite bendy and is 10 3/4 in size. overall, i found it all very fitting!! laurel wands are said unable to perform a dishonorable act, and it does not accept lazy owners, who are often on a quest for glory -- it combines rather well with the flexibility, fitting for a woman who can not stand still / doing nothing / saying nothing for more than ten minutes.

her patronus is a weasel! people with this patronus tend to be ruled by instincts and very intuitive, and to be polite, honest and hardworking. (source)

her amortentia’s scents are old manuscripts (she is passionate about books, but she adores old editions because of how personal they are), fresh ink (she is often writing something, and always carries both quills and muggle pens with herself), the first batch of bread of the day (she just,,,loves bread. it is a very nostalgic scent for her, remeting from her childhood), geer oil (her father is a mechanic, and often she helped him), chamomile (known for its calming effects, the rosier plants chamomile in their garden & it is elizabeth’s husband to go choice of tea).

talking about scents, homegirl often smells of herbs. her husband keeps telling her she smells so good and like, yeah, he is cheesy as hell, but i’m pretty sure she does smell like heaven.

also about scents: she hates coffee and is the founder of coffee sucks society ™ . expect dissertations about this on my writing.

pretty much all else i can say / know about her are on the many profiles i’ve sent on my app. you can find them here if you don’t mind the length ( 1, 2, 3, 4) & her aesthetics here + a weheartit collection (aint nobody got time for that other site) here.

#noc.intro #other people: flawlessly whips out lovely intros On Time #me: this garbage after 4(?) days like nbd #and proud let me just tell you lmao #i gotta get to work but i'll be doing ims whenever i have some free time!!!!#don't let this flop yall

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wish4youff · 7 years

Text

10 ~ Ugly Betty?

Chrissie

College Dayz

“You don’t know nothing ‘bout this, Chrissie.”

The second Kingston shut his mouth, the slow sounds of Marvin Gaye’s Just To Keep You Satisfied played through the room off the TV screen shared between myself and Destiny in the Dunster House’s room on Harvard’s campus.

Dropping the colored pen on the bed beside me, I listened closely. The sound ringing a bell, but I was mixing it with a movie for some reason. Putting the textbook down, I removed the remote from his hands, drawing King out of his trance of fake loving.

“You set my soul on fire My one desire was to love you”

Kingston’s horrible job of humming caught my attention, finally helping me to put it together as the lyrics seemed even more familiar the longer the song played. I almost couldn’t believe it. I’ve never listened to the song outside of the movie.

“Baby Boy…” Shaking my head, I tossed the remote back, laughing. The soft voice of Marvin Gaye, my humming and Kingston’s filling my ears now.

From the movie, I always heard that snippet of the song. From how Juanita and Melvin go from loving and singing to one another. To, Jody who is suffering from a broken heart, a man’s ego, and pride. Not wanting to show Yvette his deal of cards. I knew the lyrics. Knew them well enough to hum along right now as Kingston stood at the foot of my bed, eyes closed, and clearly in a different world.

At this age, I’m hearing Marvin in a different light. This was no love song, this was a goodbye, my love for you has ran its course song. Regardless of years and right or wrongs; we’ve hit the end of our road. Go your way, I go mines, and let’s hope that we see the best out of this.

It was truly depressing.

“Wow.” Marvin’s voice ended soon after the words; “All we can do is, we can both try to be happy,” filling the now saddened air surrounding me. While King looked as if he was on cloud nine.

“I told you, BabyGirl. You don’t know nothing about that.”

“In this case, you may have been right.”

I watched as he turned the TV back down to mute, obviously the title caught his attention because we both had the thing on mute so I could concentrate for the rest of this paper outlining.

“It’s deeper than Jody and Evette you know?”

“Obviously, now. I didn’t realize what he was saying. That’s like the song by Donell Jones you love so damn much. My God, I could punch that man for what he said. As a child, it was groovy. My mother would sing that around the house, but now, no.”

“Why? Because he’s honest?”

“Because it heartless.”

“No, BabyGirl. Both songs are real, they are full of emotions. The truth hurts, the real is painful, and both of those men are at the point in their lives where it times to be honest with their women,”

“If a woman had just fallen out of love. She’ll be a bitch, or accused of been messing around on the man.”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.” I shot back at him. My eyes locked on King as he lowered himself onto my, well our bed.

“Well, no, but let’s not lie to ourselves. Nine times out of ten y'all are bitches because you’ve hurt a man’s pride. Leaving us for another man bruises our egos. We have nothing left but a fake façade and bitter words. I don’t see you as a bitch for falling out of love, though. You’re human. Not every relationship runs a course of forever.”

“And Donell? You think that’s the way to go about things?”

“I love the song. I love it even more, because I understand it. You hate it, because you understand it.”

Those words got my attention. My mind in a jumble as I thought of what he had said. Kingston is bright, he has a 4.0 GPA since freshmen year, making all A’s on every test that sat in front of him, but most importantly, he’s strong minded and knows life like the back of his hand. Seriously. We don’t talk much about his mother, but he’s said her death is the reason why. He was forced to learn the “game” by himself and as King says best; ‘he be damned if it’s the death of me,’

“You see yourself getting married and falling out of love?” The question was intended to be a joke. King knew it, but it didn’t stop the frown forming in those brushy eyebrows.

“If I’m blessed with a marriage, she’s not leaving me. My wife is mine. For better or worse. Until death do us apart.”

“Sounds like you’ll kill your wife on the low, my friend.”

“Maybe,” He mumbled, his eyes closing as he relaxed against the purple comforter. “Or maybe she’ll have to kill me.”

Present

I don’t want to meet my soulmate. No, a soulmate? They’re meant to come and awaken a part of your soul and heart. Being awareness for issues that we don’t typically see as problems. They teach us new rules, challenge our hearts to test the times. But I want forever with someone. I’m convinced a soulmate doesn’t exist because in this generation no one is willing to even commit and fight. I want a life-long partner, someone who is there through the challenges, the hardships, the pain and disappointments. Someone who understands me. And while that someone may push me to new limits, they know me and know what I can and can’t take. I want that person. I want forever.

I don’t know where Olivia received this one-page essay on Soulmates vs Life Partners from. Maybe it was something she took the time to type up herself just to slip it to me during our lunch date early today. Regardless it’s held my attention the entire afternoon and early night. I’ve been sitting in my truck for over ten minutes. There’s nothing wrong with being fashionably late even if it’s on purpose. Most importantly I decided to pull out this paper and read it. For the second time. Half way through I knew it was a mistake. Once I reached the end, again, I regretted not hating it. I don’t believe in a “life partner”. Nonetheless, the read is good. It’s always important to know what others are thinking to give yourself the opportunity for other sources and outlets. I fixed my Pretty Plump Mac gloss as I crossed the street to Club Steakhouse of 58th. My second time in the last week. This could almost be my second job. Sitting at tables with people, just to please them. “She’s here.” The sound of a female voice caught my fixed attention as I entered the restaurant, not in for one lone second before she spoke. I was lead through to the opposite end of the restaurant the moment my strappy gold sandal heels hit the marble floors. She led me across an empty sitting area and then to the private dinner rooms in the back of the restaurant. “Mr. Vitale. Your guess has arrived." And then we were alone. I took the only available seat besides his lap. "Good evening.” His chilled voice causing goosebumps to cover my arms. I grabbed the choice of wine off the table taking an small gulp. The sweet taste making my taste buds dance encouraging the next few sips. “Drink up.” Loosening the cap he refilled my glass to the brim. “You rented this place? Damn.” I guess a hello would be more appropriate. But, eh. “No, I just waited until they were close to closing and called in a favor to the head chef. He owed me one. This was his pay back." "He owed the hitman a favor?" My voice was intentionally low. I didn’t plan on anyone, but King hearing that question. It wasn’t meant for anyone, but him. "If you’re referring to me. Then yes, he did." "I thought if someone was in debt with you they died.” “Most do." His big brown eyes hadn’t left mines since he spoke. He wasn’t slightly amused by this. "Do you like it? Your job?" He sighed, taking a sip of the brown liquid in his cup and I knew it was Hennessey. He’ll only pick up that wine bottle for himself when the liquor was starting to do its job and he wanted something else to taste. Leaning up, he put the cup back, raking his eyes over me now. He took the time to analyze the gold necklaces I wore, the off-the-shoulder drawstring crop top, and then back up to my face. "I’m going to be in New York for about another month definitely,” He wasn’t going to answer my question. “The last time we spoke, you made it clear you weren’t happy. So, I’m wondering what’s the next step. I’m going to be here, we gotta get alone." "We have to?” “Don’t you think its best, Chrissie?" Yes, but, "Do we plan on seeing each other more?" "We have a wedding to attend together. So, yes. We will be seeing more of one another. Get used to it. After the wedding, maybe not. Stop being so damn stubborn though. You came here tonight because I called and asked you to. I didn’t force you. You didn’t hesitant and you came only ten minutes late, even though you had been parked across the street for fifteen. Don’t play yourself by trying to hate me. I said I was sorry,” “And that makes it better?” “No, but I don’t know how make it better to be honest, Chris. It was fucking college. I can’t go back to being a damn teenage boy. I don’t want to revisit that time in my life. I was a fuck up then. It was bound to happen because of the situation we placed ourselves in." Maybe there was some over reacting on my behave. I could admit I am stubborn. Always have been, but Kingston is as well and that’s where I draw the line because it’s not fair. Maybe it was years ago, but that decision has fucked me up since then. I haven’t been in a committed relationship since. I haven’t allowed anyone to get too close since then. No friends, no lovers. Just myself and my sister because even when I didn’t know rather I was coming or going Liv was there. My closest friends turned their backs on me when Kingston did. There was no speaking after that. An ugly silence as the waiter came in with an plates for myself and Kingston. Every item from lobster to steak and shrimp. Served with sides of potatoes and asparagus. Kingston kindly refilled my glass to the brim and the bartender brought him another two shots of Hennessey. "You said you forgave me, Chrissie,” He sat across from me, his pointer finger circling the glass brim. “I get the feeling you lied." "I have, but……." "What? Do you even know why you’re mad still?” “Kingston,” Was I mad? Or was I hurt? I think that’s the biggest question. Going into college I had no one. Kingston came with a group of people which he knew. Of course, the New York crew knew of one another, but only because we all that one thing in common; NY. And by God’s plan we found each other in Harvard. That first semester I hung with whoever the wind blew my way and suddenly Kingston came along in a College Composition class during the last semester of our freshmen year. That’s where we meant. “Like you said, what’s the next step for us?" "I don’t know. I’m in counselling now.” The volunteered piece of information surprised me. “Why?” Somehow, my question amused him. A small laugh passing his lips. “Because I’m fucked up and its time I let someone help. See, Chrissie, our biggest issues are that we don’t even acknowledge what’s wrong with us. We just keep it bundled up inside and until something ticks us off and we blow up. That’s backwards, BabyGirl. Talk about your issues.” “I don’t have any.” “And that’s where you’re wrong, BabyGirl. When was the last time you blankly spoke about your parents?” It took a second for me, I didn’t respond because I didn’t know. Maybe years now. I try not to. “See, Chrissie, that’s where it starts. Honestly, sweetheart? I’m the least of your headaches, but I’m here now so it easy to pick me out the bunch, but Chrissie, you have to acknowledge the fact that you lost your parents. You went from home to home, all while raising yourself and your sister because if you didn’t, no one else would. With the money left behind, you put yourself through college and Olivia. You got a home for y'all to live in, a decent car for transportation. You made shit happen for the piece of family you had left. Not because you wanted to, but because you had to. That’s where you must start. Not with some fuck boy you met in college. Your parent’s death and the effect it had on you. The crazy ass aunt you had no choice, but to leave your sister with. All the childhood pain that you subsided so you could see your sister with a smile. Start with the root, Chrissie. Until then, you get ya’ ass off this sorrow trip. I’m sorry for what I’ve done. But if you wanna be happy, you have to let go of the pain and make that happen for yourself."

#j. cole ff #ff

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trancowboy · 7 years

Note

Soulmate AU where your soulmark doesn't only symbolise your soulmate, but also how you'll realise that they are your soulmate. (because unlike the romace novels it isn't always "bond" at first sight, sometimes it takes YEARS to discover what was there all along). Now imagine Stiles so obsessed with his very-much everlasting state of virginity because of his bite mark on his chest and HELLO what else could that mean. (part 2 in the next ask)

Part 2: Or imagine derek trying everything to get rid of his mark, because the bullet shaped mark was the reason his young naive self approached the argents, and KATE, in the first place. And we all know how that went.

The water was cold as it splashed onhis face – cold and refreshing – and his hands stayed pressedagainst his face for a long minute, his eyes closed and a tired sighleaving him. Slowly, Derek dropped his hands from his face andgrabbed the edges of the sink. He hesitated before finally liftinghis gaze to the mirror in front of him.

His eyes, blank with a hint of sadness andbags heavy underneath them, found the bullet shaped mark slightly tothe left of the center of his chest immediately.

Derek had been five when his mom hadsat him down and told him about soulmates and soulmarks for the firsttime. And because of his soulmark, it had also been when he was toldof hunters and how he needed to be careful. More careful than any ofhis siblings and any of his friends.

He had been five and hadn’t listened.He hadn’t listened when he was thirteen either, nor when he wassixteen and approached the woman he thought he was his soulmate.

It had been years – long and painfulyears – and he had yet to forgive himself for that. He doubted heever would,and looking at his soulmark made him feel sick to hisstomach.

Derek raised a hand and placed a fewfingertips to the mark, his stomach clenching and his face hardening ashis fingers crushed over it.

He needed to get rid of it, he decidedas his claws slowly appeared and poked against the skin surroundingthe mark. It drew blood but he didn’t care.

He needed to get rid of it as soon aspossible. He didn’t care if it meant never meeting his soulmate. Thatdidn’t matter anyway, he didn’t deserve one.

Derek wasn’t entirely sure when Stileshad become their resident researcher. Maybe during the summer he hadhelped Derek find Boyd and Erica, maybe way before that when hehelped Scott find out what was happening to him, Derek wasn’t sure

But Stiles was the person Derek went towith this first, because that was what he always did.

“Let me get this straight,” Stilessaid and leaned back against his desk chair. Derek was stood in frontof the closed door to Stiles’ bedroom, hands in the pockets of hisjacket and a frown on his face. “You want to get rid of yoursoulmark.”

Lifting his shoulders in a noncommittalshrug, Derek asked, “Can you help me or not?”

Stiles let out a long and slow sigh andrubbed his temple, brows shooting up his forehead. “I mean, I cantry but I’ve never heard of anyone getting rid of their soulmarkever, so I’m pretty sure you’re shit out of luck there, pal.”

Derek grunted and walked over to sitdown on the edge of Stiles’ bed, avoiding the shirt that had beencarelessly thrown there. “I’m sure you can find something.

Stiles looked at him, eyes narrowed. “Ican’t tell if that’s sarcasm or not.”

Derek looked back at him, a deadpanexpression on his face. He quirked a brow, and Stiles held up hishands and swirled around in his chair. He said, “Alright, alright.Time to get my Google Fu on.”

While Stiles typed furiously on hislaptop, eyes flickering across the screen and head completely in thezone, Derek moved from the bed to around the room as he paced to backto the bed, on repeat.

He didn’t leave. He could, but hedidn’t.

He didn’t want to leave until he had ananswer. This desperate need to get rid of his mark had been botheringhim for years now, and he wanted- no, needed to get rid of it.Every time he looked at it, he felt sick, and just knowing it wasthere on his skin was enough to anger him.

At this point, he didn’t care what it took –dark magic, whatever – he just needed to get rid of it.

“Alright,” Stiles said four hourslater, and he leaned back on his chair with a heavy sigh and the heels ofhis hands rubbing at his eyes. “There’s literally nothing onGoogle. Only how to ignore it and ways to cover it up with tattoosand shit like that, but apparently that doesn’t work, because themark just shows up somewhere else later.”

Disappointed, Derek rose to his feetand Stiles kept talking. “Theoretically, you could just get yourentire body covered in tattoos, but you’re a werewolf so that wouldbe like literal torture, and I’m not letting you do that, so don’teven think about it. Besides, I doubt it would actually work.”

Stiles pushed his chair back and stood,stretching, and Derek averted his eyes from the patch of skin thatappeared as his shirt rode up just slightly.

“So,” Stiles said with a sigh. “Ithink the library is the next stop and if there’s nothing thereeither, Deaton’s the way to go.”

They spend ten hours in the library –Derek went to get food (the librarian, an old werecreature, didn’tmind and just smiled kindly at him when he brought her some as well),Stiles chomped it down without taking his nose out of the booksspread out in front of him, and Derek spend most of the time therejust watching him.

He wasn’t doing anything, yet he felt …peaceful.

And then Stiles let out a long groanand slammed his head down onto the books and spread his arms acrossthe table. “Nothing!” he whined into the table.

So they went to Deaton and much to bothof their frustrations, they came up empty handed.

“Soulmarks are there to stay,”Deaton told them. “It’s a powerful bond, it’s not just somethingyou get rid of that easy.”

And Derek felt his heart sink.

He was stuck with it. He was stuck withthis horrible, horrible reminder of what he had done, of the pain hehad caused to the people closest to him, of the thing he was destinedto have but would never deserve.

Whoever his soulmate was, they deservedbetter than someone like him.

“Sorry I wasn’t any help,” Stilessaid as they made their way back to his room, a tired sigh passinghis lips as he rolled his shoulders.

“You did help,” Derek told him,following him into his room and quietly closing the door behind himto not wake John. His eyes were on Stiles, watching as he floppedonto the bed. “Not your fault it’s impossible.”

Stiles yawned and scratched the back ofhis head, before he asked, “Why ’re you so hellbent on getting ridof your mark anyway?”

Derek didn’t answer. He just loweredhis gaze to the floor and lifted his shoulder in a half shrug.

“I mean, I kinda get it,” Stilescontinued. “I can’t even get laid ‘cause of my soulmark and it’skilling me. I’m fucking nearly twenty and I’m still a virgin, justbecause no one wants to fuck someone with a damn bite mark on hischest, it’s annoying.”

Derek froze.

“What,” he managed after a beat,eyes snapping up to Stiles.

“Yeah, I know.” Stiles sighed andsat up. “Bite marks mean werecreature, probably, but I’ve lookedand haven’t found my soulmate yet. And until I do, I’m apparentlystuck being a virgin with these on me.”

He lifted his shirt up, and Derek’seyes didn’t zone in on the pale skin or the flat stomach or themuscle definition on his torso.

No, his eyes zoned in on the bite markright smack in the middle of his pale skinned chest, right betweenhis pink and perky nipples and a cluster of moles. The mark was apale pink color, like an old scar, but there was no doubt in Derek’smind that that was a werewolf bite.

In a split second, he put two and twotogether.

Stiles wasn’t a hunter, no. But Stileshad spend the last year being trained by Allison, practicing hisweapon skills and learning about all the ways a hunter worked, so hecould be useful on the battle field as well as the research field. Atthis point, he may as well be a hunter.

And Derek – Derek was a werewolf.

And now that he thought about it,everything with Stiles had always been so easy and natural, eversince they had overcome the initial dislike and frustration. Really,it made sense that they would be soulmates.

But realizing it was like someone shota bullet through his chest, piercing his heart, and he had a ringingto his ears for a second as it sunk in.

Stiles was his soulmate.

“I need to go,” Derek said and wasout the door before Stiles could get as much as a single syllable outof his mouth.

Derek stood on the balcony of his loftand stared out on the city below. The city was slowly waking up andbecoming alive after a night’s rest, the sun rising slowly behind thetaller buildings further in town and the sky was going from dark andstarry to bright and cloudy.

His elbows rested on the railing, handsclasped and hanging out over the edge, and his shoulders were hunchedup to his ears. His brows were furrowed and his mind was reeling withone thought, replaying it over and over again.

Stiles was his soulmate.

He didn’t want to believe it, notreally. Not because having Stiles as his soulmate was a bad thing.No, having him as a soulmate was quite possibly the best thing thathad ever happened to him.

Stiles was sarcastic and infuriatingand occasionally annoying with his inability to shut up and lack of afilter. He was smart and loyal and strong and good, and Derek didn’tdeserve him.

Exhaling sharply through his nostrils,Derek lowered his head and closed his eyes tightly.

The only good thing was, Stiles didn’tknow they were soulmates. Stiles didn’t know what Derek’s soulmarklooked like, and Derek decided, in that moment, that Stiles was nevergoing to find out.

If that meant another few frustratingyears for Stiles until he found the person that was the next bestthing, well… Derek was willing to put him through that, because itwas for the best. The best for Stiles.

He was still standing there, had beenfor hours now, when he heard footsteps barreling up the stairs in thebuilding. And he hadn’t moved when the door to the loft was pushedopen and someone stepped inside.

He didn’t even need to turn and look.He could recognize that scent, knew that heartbeat, anywhere.

“You’re an asshole,” Stiles said ashe stepped out onto the balcony. “Did you know that?”

Derek lifted his head and his eyesreturned to over the city. “So you’ve told him,” he said, hisvoice carefully flat.

“I show you my mark,” Stiles saidand came over to stand by him, one arm resting on the railing andbody turned to him, “and you storm out of there like your pants areon fire or some shit.”

Derek hummed noncommittally and saidnothing, heart hammering in his chest with how close Stiles was. Andyet, at the same time, he felt at home.

“You gonna tell me why?” Stilesasked, pressing.

“No,” Derek replied, simply.

“Okay, then I’m gonna guess.”Stiles moved, shifted to rest both his arms on the railing, and hisshoulder bonked against Derek’s. Derek couldn’t help but hear the wayStiles’ heartbeat was beating rapidly, galloping in his chest withnerves.

“I’m guessing,” Stiles started,“that my mark has something to do with yours, and it freaked youout. And now you’re even more hellbent on getting rid of yours,because, y'know, it’s me and you don’t want me to be your soulmate orwhatever, and I get that, so-”

“What?” Derek turned and looked athim, brows furrowing. “No, that’s not why.”

Stiles let out a breath, didn’t meetDerek’s eyes. “Alright, so… then I’m guessing you know who mysoulmate is and you just don’t want to-”

“Stiles, no,” Derek interruptedagain. “I mean, that’s not why I want to get rid of it.”

Stiles finally met his gaze. “Oh,”he breathed, and a silence fell between them. “So, then,” hecontinued after a minute. “Why do you wanna get rid of it?”

Derek lowered his gaze and swallowedpast the lump in his throat. “Kate,” he managed to bite out. “Mymark’s a bullet. I thought that meant hunter, so I went for Kate.Didn’t go so well, as you know.”

“Derek,” Stiles said in a loweredvoice, and a hand rested on Derek’s bicep, warm and secure and safe.

“I want to get rid of it,” Derekcontinued, ignoring his voice breaking and his throat tightening,“because every time I look at it, I feel sick. It reminds me of her,and I don’t want it on me anymore. Not because I don’t want you.”

Stiles was silent for a minute, thehand on his arm tightening its grip slowly. “So,” he said. “Youdo want me?”

“Of course I do, idiot,” Dereksaid, maybe a bit too harshly. Stiles beamed at him. “But,” hecontinued, and the bright smile in front of him fell, “you deservebetter than me.”

Stiles sighed heavily and tipped hishead back, eyes going heavenward. “You are the most annoying personin the entire world,” he said in a mutter, and Derek glared at him.

“That’s rich coming from you.”

“Oh my God!” Stiles exclaimed andturned to him. “I can’t believe you’re picking a fight with meright this second!”

“You started it,” Derek grumbled,childish. Huffing, he turned away from him.

Stiles groaned and muttered, “I can’tbelieve we’re soulmates.”

“We don’t have to be,” Derekpointed out. They didn’t. They could decide not to do anything aboutit, go their separate ways, and find someone else. There were norules about that, after all.

“Well, no, but I want to be.” Derekglanced at him, Stiles looked back. “Do you?”

Derek hesitated. He wanted to, ofcourse he did. “No;” he said instead, but he quickly continued.“I don’t know. I do, but-”

“But you think I deserve better,”Stiles finished for him, and Derek nodded and lowered his head. “Toobad that the universe seems to think you’re good enough for me.Perfect, actually. So I hate to break it to you, dude, but you’rekinda stuck with me.”

A second passed, and then Derek felt anarm drape around his shoulders, and he couldn’t help but lean intoStiles’ warm side, his eyes falling closed. “I still want to getrid of my mark,” he whispered after a few minutes of silence, thetwo of them just leaning into each other.

“I know,” Stiles whispered back,thumb rubbing against his arm. “We’ll figure something out. And ifnot, I’ll do everything in my power to make you like your markagain.” He paused. “And take a piss on Kate’s grave.”

Derek huffed and shook his head.“You’re ridiculous.”

“Damn right,” Stiles easily agreed,and Derek tilted his head back just slightly to look at him. Stileslooked back, a smile on his lips and a flush slowly painting hischeeks a pretty pink. They were close, and Derek didn’t have tostrain his ears to hear Stiles’ rapid heartbeat. Nor did he need toto hear his own.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” Stileswhispered, eyes resting on Derek’s lips. “Okay?”

Derek said nothing. Instead, he leanedin and closed the distance between them, kissing Stiles. And Stileskissed him back, and it felt like he was finally at peace – feltlike he could finally breathe and not like he was crushed by theweight of the world.

Instead, another pair of shoulderscarried it with him.

The kiss was soft and innocent, justtheir lips sliding together. But the kiss was firm, and Derek sighedinto it, as he tilted his head to the right and pressed in closer,turning his body to get closer to Stiles.

The kiss, however, was cut short, whenStiles started grinning. He leaned back just slightly, his lipsbrushing over Derek’s as he spoke. “Sooo, does this mean I canfinally get rid of my virginity?”

Derek blinked, then stepped back andlooked at him unimpressed. Scoffing, he shouldered his way past himand headed back inside with a shake of his head.

“Oh, come on!” Stiles called afterhim, following him. “I’m kidding!”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“Make me.”

And Derek did.

#eternalsterek #sterek #otp: you need me to survive #soulmate au #prompts #look i'm writing #anonymous #answered

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