#soulmate trope

[pierregazly]

in the mind of another ꨄ max verstappen

max verstappen x fem!soulmate!reader

warnings: mentions of sexual themes (no smut), pining/yearning for another, tiny bit of angst but hea! [wc is 5.4k]

in which soulmates always have a way of building the connection with one another. for you and max, you've always been the voice instead the others head, the one thing that has always been a constant presence. but will that voice inside your head, ever be the voice you hear from in front of you?

By legal terms, a soulmate was defined as “person with whom one has a feeling of deep or natural affinity.  This may involve similarity, love, romance, platonic relationships, comfort, intimacy, sexuality, sexual activity, spirituality, compatibility and trust.” In today’s day and age, more often than not, your soulmate was that of romantic origin, a person you yearned for on a regular basis. 

It was something instilled in you at an early age, that everyone had a soulmate, but not everyone met their soulmate. Everyone had a way of interacting with their soulmate before they met. You learned early on, very early on, that you could interact with your soulmate through your mind. Through words, pictures, even internal conversations. But sometimes those interactions would lead to nothing, and your parents tried to ensure you were aware of that in the fear that you would be heartbroken one day.  

One thing you could never do was tell them your name, who you were, or where you were until it was time. It was like your mind would go elsewhere when you tried to tell the male on the other end who you were. He told you the same thing happened to him every time he tried.  

The both of you spent a plentiful amount of time interacting in your shared youth. He would often ramble on about his day, about go-karting, and his dad who he kind of hated but obviously loved, about his mum who he missed, and his sister who he couldn’t wait to see when she came to visit him wherever he was in the world. 

You would do the same, you’d tell him about the things you did that specific day, explain little things about your family, the things you looked forward to for the remainder of the week. It was something you both just got used to. 

The both of you grew up together. Even if it wasn’t physical, you were an emotional tether for one another when either of you needed it. He was there for almost all of your firsts, your first graduation, your first familial heartbreak, your first crush, your first boyfriend (which he was eager to help you through when it ended).  

Ever embarrassing to admit, he was even the one in your mind, more times than you can count, when you felt the butterflies in your tummy growing as your fingers explored different parts of your body. He always pushed you to continue, telling you exactly what he would do with his own fingers, or his own tongue; when he finally got the chance to make you feel the way you were making yourself feel. 

It was something you didn’t speak about after it happened, but it didn’t change the fact he was usually the one your brain went to when you made yourself feel that way. He argued it was the soulmate connection, that your soul just simply wanted him to be the one to do it. 

As time went on, the conversations dwindled amongst the two of you, both of you growing up and growing out of the fantasy that you would meet your soulmate one day, meet each other. 

You still got glimpses into his brain occasionally, pictures of blue and red cars, racecars are what you presumed. His fingers on what looked like a controller, but turned out to be a steering wheel when you asked him what it was. 

“Seems like a bit of an extravagant steering wheel, no?” 

The silent laugh was loud in your mind, as if you could feel his body rumbling in its laughter at your words, “Pretty extravagant, yeah. Not everyone gets to use something like this, though.” 

“Explain the steering wheel to me, there’s too many buttons and toggles,” you prompted him, knowing full well it would dive him deep into an explanation about the object you so often saw inside his head. 

That was another thing you learned about him early on. He liked to explain everything. He used to spend hours describing the go-karts he drove every weeknight and weekend, putting as much detail and emphasis into his explanations so that you would better understand. As time went on, so did his explanations, explaining situations he’s found himself in around the world, explaining how his career was kicking his ass but how he loved it, occasionally getting drunk and explaining how soulmates worked and that it was inevitable you’d meet one day, even if it felt like that day was never coming.  

Not wanting to be the one to burst his fantasy and ruin whatever hope he had, you would usually just nod along and silently hum to him when the conversation of eventually meeting one day was brought up. 

You still shared nights together, even from thousands of miles apart, your brain yearning for him as his did the same. 

There were moments in time, where you were positive you had almost met him, or perhaps had made eye contact with him. It was a small feeling inside of you, like everything you were looking for was in the same building as you, or around the corner, or even in the same city. 

Usually just as fast as the feeling appeared, it was gone. It never lasted for long periods of time, it was like your soulmate bond was teasing you, pushing for you to reinstate your faith in the connection. He always argued that if you lost faith in the soulmate bond, it would lose faith in trying to push the two of you together. 

Yet another thing you learned early on, whoever he was, arguing was in his blood. If he disagreed with you, with something you said, or with an opinion you had, he would go off into a whole explanation and argument about why he knew you were wrong, and how he knew he was right. 

It was endearing, how passionate he was about everything in his life, and seeing how his passion for everything just continued to grow as he grew up.  

Over the last 8 years, you had learned not to even attempt to communicate with him on Saturday or Sundays. He had told you that it was the busiest time of the work week for him, and that he couldn’t handle internal distractions on those days. 

You would only speak to him when he spoke to you on those days. Usually it was a fleeting ‘have a nice rest of your weekend’ or ‘I can’t wait until you’re here with me, celebrating this with me’.  

He never elaborated on the last part, and you never went out of your way to ask. Whoever he was, he was usually celebrating something on Sundays, at least that’s what you assumed from the raw happiness and elation that usually went through your connection on those days. 

You hadn’t heard from him, from your soulmate, in weeks. Which wasn’t necessarily unusual, either of you could cut off the connection for weeks at a time if things were stressful in life, or if you just needed a break from the never-ending person that was inside your head at all times. 

It didn’t mean you didn’t miss his dry sense of humour, the bluntness with which he said things to you, the never-ending arguments about the stupidest things. You would never admit any of this to him, though.  

Ignoring the yearning-feeling from inside of you, you allowed yourself to think about how things would be if you ever met the person on the other end of the connection. Would it be instant happiness? Relief? Joy? 

People always explained their own experiences to you, saying it was like love at first sight, but amplified so significantly, because it felt like your soul was complete, like everything was finally where it needed to be in life. They described it as meeting the one thing that made you whole, the one thing that made you continuously push to be your best self, to continuously push to be better at everything you did in life.  

You truly couldn’t believe what they said, not that it sounded exaggerated or silly. It was just difficult to imagine anything causing a feeling so instantaneously and intense as what they described.  

Your friends had disappeared earlier in the day, eager to try and find themselves different drivers throughout the entrances to get photos or autographs with. You really had no interest in any of it. Your soulmate had eagerly admired, and shit talked almost every single person on the grid to you, at least once or twice, so it really wasn’t worth trying to interact with any of them after that. 

Your paddock pass sat heavily on your chest, the lanyard rubbing against your neck as the bright Sun shined down upon your skin. The cheering of the Tifosi could be heard throughout the entire fan sections. The Ferrari faithful were dedicated, especially at their own Grand Prix. 

He had told you that Monza was one of the ones not to miss. That it was electric, regardless of who you drove for, even if the fans were booing your favourite driver, or your favourite team, it was a delight to drive in Monza. 

You found yourself staring at the different drivers names that were wrapped around the seating section. Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell... Max Verstappen. 

He was handsome, that you could admit. With his pretty blue eyes, and his arrogant little smirk, and his annoying obsession with having to win.  

“Oh, you think Max Verstappen has pretty blue eyes, huh?”  

A small sound erupted from your chest as you listened to the words floating through your head from the man you hadn’t heard from in weeks. 

“Look who’s alive! Thought you got lost with your little controller steering wheel.” 

Laughing at your words, “You didn’t answer my question! You think Max Verstappen has pretty eyes?” 

“I think Max Verstappen himself is pretty. Other than when he’s being an arrogant prick.” 

That feeling had been eating at you all day, again. Like your soulmate bond was trying to force you to go in a direction you weren’t understanding. It was like it was trying to tell you that he was here, that he was so close you could almost smell him, almost touch him. You had been ignoring the little jabs inside of you all day, refusing to acknowledge the fact that maybe, just maybe, the person you were yearning for so heavily, was so close. 

“My soulmate just called me an arrogant prick, without realizing she was calling me an arrogant prick.”  

The Brit in front of him guffawed, his whole body moving as he gripped his side at Max’s words, “Mate, how did that even happen?” 

Shrugging his shoulders as he looked at Lando, “Not too sure. I haven’t heard from her in a few weeks, figured she had shut the connection off for some time alone and all of a sudden, she’s thinking about how ‘Max Verstappen has such pretty blue eyes’ and then told me that I’d... or he’d be attractive all the time if he wasn’t such an arrogant prick.”  

Patting his shoulder gently, all Lando did was grin at him, “Just think, mate. At least whoever she is, she thinks you have pretty eyes and that you’re good looking when you’re not being an arrogant prick.” 

Max shoved him as he walked by, walking away in the direction of his driver's room. He had been having that feeling again, like his body was yearning for something that it couldn’t explain to him. He had tried to ask a few people about it, had asked Sebastian in the past if it was something he had experienced before meeting Hanna. Of course, Seb hadn’t been much help when one considered the fact that he and his soulmate had met in their shared childhood. 

It wasn’t something he could ask either of his parents, both admitting long ago that they weren’t destined for one another and that they had never had a connection with their true soulmates, which allowed them to willingly marry each other. Victoria had met her soulmate and now husband when they were young as well, so she would be of no help. 

He was almost embarrassed to ask Christian, or any other older person who had already met their soulmate. He was a grown man, he could literally just google it if he wanted to, but what exactly would he type in? 

What is that weird yearning feeling I get every now and then, out of the blue, in random buildings or random cities? 

Max was almost positive the answer would be ‘allergies’ or ‘hunger’. He figured that maybe it was soulmate related, it would make sense, but it wasn’t a feeling he had often. It wouldn’t make sense to only yearn so heavily for your soulmate in certain areas. 

It was always the strongest when he felt like he was truly connecting with you. He noticed it for the first time when both of you had touched yourselves to the sound of the other, egging one another on, saying exactly what the both of you know the other wanted to hear. Max couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed that time with you, how intimate it was, how much he craved to be the one making you moan and whimper. 

The feeling always grew after that, the yearning for the other person, the desire to have you there with him, the desire to have you underneath him after a night of celebration, the desire to have you wrapped in his arms, the desire to send you an unnecessary bouquet of flowers... if he could just figure out who you were, all of that would be possible.  

But the yearning today was different. It was like his body was trying to tell him he needed to go somewhere, trying to encourage him to walk down halls he didn’t usually walk down, or trying to push him in directions that made no sense.  

“You gonna tell me why you’re thinking of Max Verstappen so much today, and why you’re thinking so much about his pretty blue eyes?” 

He could feel the involuntary smile reach his lips when he heard your soft laugh. He really tried not to be someone who was smitten with a person he had never met, but he couldn’t deny that he was in love with you, likely had been since the both of you were young.  

You were the one constant in his life, the one person he could always turn to when he needed someone. You listened to all his ranting, dealt with hours upon hours of ‘Maxsplaining’, dealt with unnecessary outbursts and temper tantrums, but you never complained about it. You always eagerly pushed for him to continue, asking him more and more questions, prompting him out of his head and prompting him to get over whatever frustration had pushed him over the edge that day.  

“If you must know. I’m at the Monza Grand Prix, and I had to get away from all the Ferrari fans for a bit, pretty sure they were going to blow my ear drums. Max Verstappen’s name is everywhere, so I, of course, had to internally acknowledge his attractiveness while grimacing at his name in front of me.” 

Max felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. You were here? In Italy? At the Monza Grand Prix? The same place where he was, at this very moment, at this very second?  

He could tell you were waiting for a response from him to your words. It was like he could sense the raise of your eyebrows from the silence that emitted between your connection.  

“You’re in Monza?” He questioned eagerly, his hands sweating as he waited for a response 

“Yes sir, just about to try and force myself to go find my friends and head back to the paddock so I can avoid getting trampled by any other Ferrari fans.” 

Max knew almost instantly that, that had to be what the feeling was. The yearning. You were close by, and his side of the soulmate connection knew it.  

He had tried to tell you who he was before, had tried to explain it to you in words that the connection wouldn’t muffle or meddle with. It never worked. Any time he tried to explain to you who he was, or what he did for a living, it was like his brain malfunctioned and he had to hotwire it back on. 

You had told him the same thing happened to you every time you tried to explain to him who you were, or the easiest ways to find you in the real world. Every time either of you tried, it was like the connection was shutting it down. 

Daniel had told him it was likely the bond, telling him it wasn’t the time yet, that the both of you had to wait until the bond was steady and ready for you to finally meet in person. Max had never believed it, until right now.  

You had never been able to tell him exactly where you were before, at least, not that he can ever remember. You had told him the things you were doing in the past, had told him the people you were spending time with, even that you were getting dinner in certain districts. Any time you had tried to tell him the restaurant, or the city even, the connection would malfunction. 

But you were just mentally able to tell him where you were, you were internally able to tell him where you were going in the place that you currently were. 

“I’m... I’m in Monza too. At the Grand Prix, I mean.” 

He could almost feel the instant shock and excitement at his words. Before he or you could get the chance to say anything else, he heard GP calling for him, the annoyed expression on his face an indication that he had been looking for Max for far longer than he actually wanted to be.  

“I have to get back to work. Please, don’t leave before you hear from me again. Maybe this is a sign.” 

You could practically feel the shock coursing through your body. Both of you were here. In Monza. At the Grand Prix. At the same time, together... but not together? You tried to contain the giddiness at his words, a silent hum in acknowledgement when he told you not to leave. How could you leave? Especially now that you knew he was here? And that he was working? 

It gave you some indication as to why he was always so busy on Saturdays and Sundays, if he worked for a Formula 1 team, or for Formula 1 in itself. Their biggest days of the week were the weekends, especially during race weeks. It made sense why he could never talk on those days of the week, or why he always seemed so happy or moody on Sundays. 

You couldn’t believe that both of you were able to tell each other where the other was, that the connection finally allowed you to give that little tidbit of important information to the other. Maybe it finally was time, maybe the connection was finally allowing you to meet the one person you had been yearning for, even if you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t.  

The text message to your friends asking where they were garnered a response, which prompted you out of your train of thought. Letting them know that you were on your way to their location, your brain moved back to the previous thought your mind was on. He was here, like truly here. Within the same 10 kilometers as you. Probably the closest either of you had ever been to each other before. 

Your friends greeted you eagerly when you finally found them, excitably telling you all about the drivers they had met, how Alex Albon even recognized two of them from previous Grand Prix and how they just knew Charles Leclerc was going to win today because the Tifosi were going crazy and how could you not win with all that support screaming for you? 

Nodding along with a smile on your face, you had an inkling they were wrong. Max Verstappen was likely going to get his tenth win in a row, but you weren’t going to say that to them.  

The drivers parade went by faster than you were expecting, before you knew it, the cars and their drivers were lining up in their respective places along the grid. Your friends eagerly itching for a better view of the upcoming race. You couldn’t even put the effort in to pay attention, wondering where he was right now.  

Was he working? Was he one of the mechanics? One of the pit crew, eagerly waiting for their driver to pull into their spot? One of the engineers, hoping their instructions and their drivers did as they were supposed to? You tried not to let your mind wander to the other possibility, but it was hard not to. 

What if he was one of the drivers? One of the 20 men now pushing themselves around the track at the fastest speed their car could take them? You tried not to stay on that thought too long, but your mind seemed to wander back to it.  

It would make sense, really. Whoever he is, he had been karting since he was a boy. His father had been unnecessarily forceful with him about it, always pushing him even when he was down, telling him that champions didn’t cry and that if he wanted to win everything one day, he had to act like he wanted to.  

He always made it seem like he was on top of the world on Sundays, like everything he ever wanted had happened that day. Would a mechanic, or an engineer, or someone from the pit crew consistently have that level of elation on Sundays?  

You knew it was possible, if they were working for a winning team, or a winning driver, and that driver was making their lives as easy as possible, then you knew it was definitely a possibility. You just couldn’t shake the idea that maybe, just maybe, it was one of the drivers. 

The crowd was cheering as eagerly as they possibly could, Verstappen had overtaken Sainz three laps prior after the Spainard had led for 15 laps straight. The Tifosi were relentless though, cheering as loud as they could for their two drivers. Your friends had resigned themselves to the fact that Verstappen was getting his tenth win in a row, which was slowly coming closer and closer as the time ticked down. 

It felt like time was zooming by; the minutes on the clock trickling down as the stadium waited for that last lap to start. Sainz was battling to keep Leclerc in fourth, doing everything in his power to keep the third podium spot he had rightfully earned. 

The checkered flag waved as the Red Bull car of Max Verstappen passed the finish line, a simultaneous cheer erupting within the crowd when the two red Ferrari’s passed the line with barely a second apart. 

That feeling inside of you, the yearning, it had been getting stronger and stronger throughout the race. Strong enough that you had to rub at your chest with a grimace more than once, ignoring the signs that obviously your soul connection was trying to give to you.  

The television in front of you showed Max Verstappen on the top of his car, both hands and 10 fingers up as he stared at the moving camera, an obvious celebration beginning as he ran towards his team. Verstappen jumped at them, right as you heard his voice in your head. 

“Where are you right now? I want to see you. I need to see you.” 

He sounded out of breath, but elated, as per usual on a Sunday. Must work for Red Bull then, you thought to yourself. 

“I don’t really know how to explain where I am, I’m in the Paddock Club with my friends.”  

Turning away from the screen, you tried to focus on the words coming through the connection. 

“Come to the area where you can go towards the garages, I’ll have someone tell security to let you in. What are you wearing? I don’t think you’ll be able to tell me your name yet, and I don’t want to risk fucking this up.” 

You had absolutely no clue how to find the area he was describing to you, explaining to him that you didn’t spend most of your time at Grand Prix’s unlike someone, apparently. All he did was laugh joyfully, explaining to you in simpler terms how to get to where he wanted you to go. 

“I have to go do a few more things, but just wait for me, okay? I’ll come to find you, the moment I’m done. I swear.” 

“I’ve waited for years; I think I can wait a few minutes more.” 

He didn’t verbally respond, but you could still feel the happiness, the sense of something you could only describe as adoration come through the connection before he shut it off again. It was obvious he had commitments, but it was disheartening knowing you still had to wait a few more minutes, that he wouldn’t be there waiting for you, behind whatever security guard you were going to have to verbally grapple with to be let behind the barricades. 

All you told your friends when you left was you had to go make a call, and that it may take a few minutes. They tried to argue with you, telling you the drivers were just about to do their post-race interviews and that it was always one of the best parts, but you simply brushed them off, eager to get to where you needed to be. 

It didn’t take you long to find where he had told you to go, his explanations as thorough and necessary as they usually were. Before you could even get a word out to the security guard, a tall brunette in a Red Bull shirt lightly tapped your shoulder and gestured for you to follow her, flashing her entry pass at the guard and pulling you along. 

“I’m Liv. I work in PR with Red Bull; I was told to wait for you. Sorry for just like... pulling you along. No one really gave me any explanation, just that I was told to look out for someone wearing the exact same outfit you are, and that it had something to do with a soulmate thing and I couldn’t get involved or ask questions.” 

“This pass will get you in and out of pretty much wherever you need to be in the Red Bull garage and areas nearby,” the brunette rambled on as the both of you walked, pulling a second entry pass from her back pocket to give to you. 

Both of you stopped in front of what only could be the hospitality lounge, if the plethora of food and drinks were any indication. You didn’t necessarily know where to go, or where to stand, so you looked back over at the brunette with confusion evident in your eyes. 

“Just wait here! He shouldn’t be long. Feel free to snack, or make yourself a tea, or you know... drink whatever really. I have to get back to work. Just like, don’t leave. I’ll probably get in trouble for that. Anyways, bye! Good luck!”  

Not giving you the chance to respond, Liv, as you learned previously, turned and basically ran out of the room. You were left alone in the hospitality area, everyone from Red Bull obviously still celebrating Max Verstappen’s tenth win in a row. 

You didn’t know what to do with yourself, deciding to sit down on one of the couches being the only real option you could decipher. The television was on low, the interviewer speaking to Sainz, Perez, and Verstappen. 

“You look eager to get out of here, Max. Big celebration planned for your tenth straight win?” 

The Dutchman chuckled, a cocky grin prominent on his face, “I have something I have to do after this, of course, though, not the celebration right away. I’m sure the team has a celebration planned, but it’s a bit arrogant of me to be involved in my own celebration party planning, no?” 

The interviewer laughed in response; you simply cocked your head at his words. Ironic that Max Verstappen would call himself arrogant, just hours after you had told him how arrogant you found Verstappen.

A few more questions zoomed by; your own thoughts preoccupied by the idea that your soulmate could be coming towards the room at any minute. The feeling in your chest, in your body as a whole, had grown substantially again since you sat down. What you didn’t notice was him grabbing his chest at the same time you did, rubbing it with a grimace as the yearning grew and grew. 

It didn’t take long for the interview to end, the television going back to the reporters as the drivers evidently went to go do whatever it is they do after their post-race interviews. 

You could hear someone walking down the hallway, which was strange considering how busy the Red Bull garage had to be right now. The steps grew louder as they got closer and closer to the room you were in, the door slamming open being the only thing to pull you out of your thoughts as you spun around. 

Making direct eye contact with your soulmate for the first time was exactly how everyone described it. It was instant, the feeling that seated itself inside your heart, inside your mind. It felt like you were whole, like everything you had done in the past 24 hours, let alone the past 10 years, had led you to this exact moment. 

You subconsciously moved off the couch, stepping in the direction of the man that was now eyeing your every move. You couldn’t tell what was going through his mind, whether he was happy, disheartened, you didn’t know. 

He stepped in your direction, just as you put another foot towards him. You could see the corners of his lips turning up, a smile starting to edge itself onto his cheeks.  

“I can’t believe you’re really here. In front of me. Like, a real person.” 

It was the same voice that you’ve heard in your head for years, except the words were coming from the mouth of the man in front of you, coming from the mouth of the man with the prettiest blue eyes you had ever seen. 

You barely had time to process anything before he had wrapped his arms around you, pulling you directly into his chest as you wrapped your own arms around his body.  

He was real. Everything you had yearned for, for years was real, and Max was right there, holding you in his arms as he pressed his lips against the crown of your head, not wanting to let you go. 

Max could barely contain his eagerness as he basically sprinted down the hall of the Red Bull garage after the end of the interview. Olivia had told him where she had brought you, telling you to wait in the hospitality lounge and that he’d be there to see you as quickly as he could get out. 

He couldn’t believe that you were really there. After spending years of talking to an invisible force inside his head, years of having a constant companion who he could turn to for internal comfort, you were barely seconds away from him. 

Max didn’t hesitate to throw the door of the lounge open, making eye contact with you just a second later. 

Everyone was right, the feeling you get when you finally meet your soulmate, the person that’s supposed to complete you in the best of ways. It was instant love, instant happiness, a feeling better than any win he had ever accomplished, a feeling that could barely be explained in one million words.  

He knew right then that he loved you, and when you smiled at him, he knew you knew it too.  

i am obsessed with the soulmate trope so this obviously got out of hand and way more descriptive than i intended. im hoping you all love it as much as i loved writing it!! let me know what you think

my requests are also open :)

taglist

@leclercdream @myescapefromthislife @iloveyou3000morgan @love4lando @asfaraslifegets @decseptapril @somanyfandomsbruh

if you're interested in being added to my taglist, just send me a message/reply and ill add ya. i lost my list of who asked so if you weren't tagged and wanted to be pls let me know. (if your name has a strike through it, it wouldn't let me tag you)

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #max verstappen x you #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 one shot #f1 imagine #soulmate trope #my writing #formula 1

[beansandsprouts]

Not as Bullshit as I Thought

Summary: World where your soulmates first name is written on your right arm in their handwriting. Dean however thinks the whole concept is ridiculous. That is until he actually meets his soulmate.

Warnings: cursing (duh), brief mention of violence

Dean hated the concept of having a soulmate. With how much Chuck had fucked up the world he found it ridiculous that he'd somehow be able to decide that two people were perfect for each other. The idea was obscene, so he'd made the effort to always cover that name scrawled on his arm. He never went looking for you.

You felt much the same. A soulmate seemed like a stupid concept. There was no way in hell there was another person out there who was absolutely perfect for you. You didn't bother covering your mark, but you also never made any effort to find this mysterious "Dean."

Dean was hunting a vampire that had been terrorizing a small town. He'd already questioned the victim's partners, friends, and anyone else of interest. And he'd managed to figure out where this vamp could possibly be hiding.

He was coming back to his motel room after a late lunch to change out of his fed suit and into proper hunting clothes, and you were doing the same. You didn't see him but boy did he see you.

It was like you hit him with a truck. He froze in place as he watched you get out of your classic Ford Landau, your suit fit you perfectly. He felt like he'd never seen a woman so beautiful. The curve of your jaw and shape of your lips. It made his heart pound. He watched as you walked to your motel room door, swiftly unlocking it and stepping inside.

The moment you were out of sight he shook himself from his stupor. You were definitely hot, but right now wasn't the time to get distracted. He had a hunt to finish.

He prepped his gear and waited til the sun began to set, when he got back outside your car was gone. He didn't think anything of it, assuming you'd gone out for dinner. Maybe you were a business woman. He grinned at the thought, he liked the idea of someone as gorgeous as you being in power.

He drove to the abandoned cabin a few miles out of town, parking a little ways away so he could take them by surprise. He crept through the woods, machete in hand. But as he got closer to the cabin he heard the sounds of crashing and yelling.

Dean took off running toward the cabin, had the vamp already grabbed another victim? And they weren't dead yet.

He burst through the door in time to see you kick the vamp in the chest, causing it to stumble back. You were baring your teeth and there was a feral look in your eyes as you swiftly brought your machete down to behead the monster.

You looked over at Dean with blood sprayed over your face. You glanced him up and down, a slight smirk on your face.

"Seems like I beat you to it."

Dean stared at you in surprise for a moment, that bloodthirstiness he'd seen in you just two seconds ago had left him feeling things he'd never felt. He cleared his throat.

"Guess so."

You chuckled and wiped the blood on your face.

"I'm y/n. Nice to meet you."

Dean froze the moment you spoke your name. There was absolutely no way it was really you. But at the same time, he'd met others with that same name and never had he felt the way he was now. He stared at you, jaw dropped.

"Uh..hello?" You looked at him slightly amused.

"Dean." His voice was rough and gravelly.

Your eyes widened. The moment you'd seen him you knew there was something off. But you hadn't been expecting this.

"You're fucking with me."

"Afraid not."

The two of you stood there staring for a moment, unsure of how to go about this.

"Let...let me see your mark. Maybe it's a different y/n for you and a different Dean for me." Your voice sounded desperate. You really didn't want to be stuck with a soulmate.

Dean stepped forward and rolled up his sleeve, exposing his soulmate mark. Sure enough it was your name, in your handwriting. He looked at yours too. The both of you sighed.

"Damnit." He grumbled.

"You're telling me."

You both stood there in silence, just staring at the others mark. Neither of you had expected this. Neither of you wanted this. Yet here you were. Seems the universe ensured you'd at least meet each other.

"So...what do we do from here?" You asked and looked up at him.

He really was attractive. A strong jaw, defined lips that looked incredibly kissable, and pretty green eyes. You hadn't met a guy this hot in...well ever really.

"Hell if I know. I didn't mean to ever meet you. Never believed in this whole soulmate bullshit." He grumbled as he made eye contact with you.

"Yeah me neither."

You two stared at each other for a few moments before you sighed.

"I don't expect anything from you but I think at the very least I should treat you to dinner. For hijacking your hunt and all." A small smile tugged at your lips.

He couldn't help but chuckle at that and nodded I'm agreement, "I could get behind a free meal."

The two of you walked to your respective cars to meet at a diner back in town, you'd wiped your face off with a towel and changed into a new shirt before driving off.

When you got to the diner he was leaning against his car, arms crossed, waiting for you. His eyes grazed over your car as you pulled up.

"You've got a sweet ride." He says as you get out.

"You do too. 67?"

"Yes ma'am." He couldn't help but grin.

"Dinner time?" You gestured to the doors of the diner and he nodded, following you inside.

The two of you sat down at a booth, ordering some food before awkwardly sitting there.

"So...Dean Winchester I'm assuming?"

He chuckled, "Yep. And you're also a hunter."

"Sure am."

"How long you been doing the job?" He was genuinely curious.

"Since I was a kid. My parents were hunters."

He nodded, that explained why you took down that vamp on your own so easily.

There was another few moments of uncomfortable small talk until the conversation started flowing. It felt natural. Easy. Right.

Dean had the ability to make you laugh like no one else had. And your giggle and smile made his heart flutter for the first time in his life. He was having a hard time not immediately falling for you. He kept trying to remind himself that the concept of soulmates was absurd, but it was hard to believe that when sitting in that crappy diner with you felt like home. He couldn't remember feeling this comfortable with anyone. He found himself hoping you were also feeling this connection.

Eventually it had gotten late, you had both long finished your food and had been talking until closing. Eventually he walked you to your car.

"You goin back to your motel?"

"Nah, I'm taking off. Got a new case."

He seemed disappointed by your answer, but nodded.

"I could give you my number? Maybe we can meet up again after." You offered a shy smile.

"That'd be great." He had a huge grin as he offered up his phone.

You type your number in and sent yourself a text before handing it back.

"Got it. I'll uh...see you around, soulmate." You grinned back at him.

"Yeah, I'll see you."

The two of you stood staring at each other for a moment, neither wanted to leave. Dean took a hesitant step closer, you were mere inches from each other now. You felt your heart pounding. You'd never felt so at ease around someone.

"Could I...could I um..." Dean's tone was nervous, wanting to ask that question but not really sure if he should.

"Could you what?" You teased and chuckled as Dean's cheeks flushed red.

"Ah damnit nevermind." He grumbled and looked away.

You smiled and reached up to cup his cheek and turn his face to you.

"Yes. You can."

Dean's face lit up and his hands moved to your waist as he leaned in to gently press his lips to yours. He kissed you tenderly, enjoying the feeling of your lips on his. It gave him butterflies. It didn't take long for you to part your lips and he slipped his tongue into your mouth with a groan.

He wrapped an arm around your waist and raised his other hand to run his fingers through your hair, the action had you melting.

The jingle of the diner door opening as the staff left finally made you pull apart. You looked back at each other as a waitress shot you an amused glance and couldn't help but laugh.

"Maybe this soulmate stuff isn't as bullshit as I thought." He chuckled.

"I was gonna say the same."

You stood there in each other's arms for a moment before you leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips again and stepped back.

"I've gotta get going, but I'll talk to you soon Dean."

"Drive safe sweetheart." He said with a soft smile, hands stuff in his pockets while he watched you get in your car.

"Will do." You blew him a kiss as you backed up and pulled out of the parking lot.

Dean watched you leave with a goofy grin on his face. Maybe this soulmate thing wasn't so bad. After all, he seemed to have gotten a pretty damn good one.

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

I'm so rusty with writing so I'm sorry if it's not as well done as previous stuff. I'm excited to get back into writing though! I didn't realize how much I'd missed it :]

Shoot me a message if you have any requests!

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean x reader #soulmates #soulmate trope #fluff #brief mention of violence

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Comgratulations!!! Thats a interesting celebration!!! I can not put my mind around what are you going to birth with this 😚🙀 (sorry if sound weird english is not my thing but your writing are beautiful creations so the metaphor is alright)

Can this jedi (or medic) reader travel with Crosshair (It's a shame it can't be the twins or Maker bless us, all force 99) with soulmate as luggage to either Naboo or Alderaan? 😖

Thank you for booking with Soaring's Tours. We're now ready to board your flight. Please mind the gap between the transport and the platform. We wish you a pleasant journey!

Through Your Eyes

In a galaxy consumed by war, you find solace away from the medbay and injured troopers by painting your dreams. But a chance encounter reveals those dreams are more than they seem...

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: brief reference to surgery, good ol' soulmates trope, breaking and entering, Cross can never give a straight answer, softness, romance, first kiss, lil' innuendo.

Your brush swooped across the canvas, and green paint dragged across its surface to form a tree. There was no reference holo, just the memory from last night’s dream in your mind.

Over the last year, your dreams have taken a turn. Once focused on your life, they’d now switched to landscapes - deserts, snowy mountains, swamps - they were endless. But they all had one thing in common. They were all from great heights, as if you were a bird soaring through the sky.

As a child, you found peace in painting, locking yourself away for days at a time. As you grew up and left for medical school, it helped ease your frazzled nerves after hectic days. And now, with the war raging across the galaxy and the Kaminoans relying on your expertise in trauma surgery, it was how you chased away the images of injured troopers.

As you dipped your brush into the pot of water on your desk, your gaze lingered on the small mark on your wrist - your soulmate mark. It had appeared five years ago - late by society’s standards, given that most received them before puberty. That was until a literal army of men had been revealed to the galaxy a year ago. The forums you’d frequented on the holonet had exploded, thousands of people connecting the dots that their soulmates were part of the GAR.

It was why you’d jumped at the opportunity to work for the Kaminoans when they’d been recruiting at the Grand Medical Facility. You figured it would be easier this way to find your soulmate. Some people on the forums had been able to find their soulmates through their bonds – picking up on their thoughts, sensing their feelings, or knowing they were nearby. Unfortunately, you had no idea what your connection with your soulmate was.

And you were no closer to figuring it out a year and a half into the war.

As you were about to dip your clean paintbrush into the soft brown on your palette, your datapad beeped urgently. Spurred into action, you abandoned your painting, snagging your scrubs. You dashed out of your quarters, the sterile corridor a blur as you sprinted towards the medbay. What was the emergency this time? Another trooper injured on the front lines, or perhaps an existing patient who’d turned critical?

You burst through the medbay doors, adrenaline coursing through your veins, only to be met with a scene that halted you in your tracks. A trooper lay motionless on a stretcher, surrounded by a flurry of activity as medics tended to his extensive injuries. The damage to one side of his face was the worst you’d ever seen, blood coating everything in the vicinity, and what you could see of his eye under the swelling wasn’t promising – all evidence of an explosion he’d been too close to.

Three other troopers hovered nearby, worry etched onto their faces, armour dirty and caked in blood. You didn’t even register that they looked nothing like the other clones, but you could feel a heavy gaze from their direction lingering on you.

Without hesitation, you joined the team of medics, your training kicking in as you assessed the trooper’s condition. The severity of his injuries was apparent, and you knew that every second counted. As you worked alongside the other medical personnel, your mind raced, trying to determine the best course of action to save this soldier’s life.

The medbay hummed with urgency, the air thick with tension as everyone focused on their tasks. As you worked tirelessly to stabilise the trooper, Lyndsy - a trainee medic on placement from Bespin - pressed a datapad into your hands. It was filled with notes from the team that’d intercepted the squad’s arrival, including details of the trooper.

CT-9903.

You bit your tongue. They hadn’t thought to get his name.

“Name?” You directed the question towards the three nearby troopers, gesturing to your injured patient.

“Wrecker, ma’am.” The shortest of the three spoke up, his face half-shaded by a tattoo. With a nod of thanks, you updated the information on the datapad.

“Theatre. Now.” You barked the order, stepping back to let the other medics release the brakes on the stretcher and hurriedly push Wrecker towards the operating room. A bacta bath could cure many things, but in the few moments you’d been focused on stabilising him, you’d concluded it would take far more than that for him to survive.

“I’ll do everything I can.” You assured Wrecker’s brothers quickly, wishing you had more time to explain what would happen next but knowing every second counted. With a determined focus, you led the medical team into the operating room. As the doors swung shut behind you, you blocked out the outside world, immersing yourself in the controlled chaos of the operating theatre.

Time seemed to blur as you worked, your hands moving with precision as you repaired the extensive damage inflicted upon Wrecker’s body. Each incision, each piece of shrapnel pried free, each suture, was a calculated effort to save his life, and you refused to let fatigue or doubt get in the way. The beeping of monitors and the hushed voices of your colleagues faded into the background.

Finally, you completed the last suture. As you stepped back from the operating table, your heart pounded in your chest, and you let out a deep breath, shoulders dropping with relief. You’d done all you could; now it was the Bacta’s turn. He’d likely have some prominent scars for the rest of his life, and his hearing would forever be affected, but you’d been able to replace his damaged eye with a cybernetic one and give him a blood transfusion. He’d pull through to fight another day.

Leaving the operating room, you peeled off your gloves, gown, and mask, your mind still buzzing with the intensity of the surgery as you deposited them into the biohazard chute.

“I’ll tell his squad.” Lyndsy offered, noting the tiredness in your body.

As Lyndsy’s words washed over you, a wave of gratitude swept over you. Her offer granted you some reprieve. With a nod of appreciation, you managed a faint smile before trudging back to your quarters, the tiredness starting to creep in.

Entering your cabin, you let out a long exhale, feeling the tension slowly ebb away as you sank onto the edge of your bed. The familiar surroundings offered a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos of war.

Scrubs off and buried under the comfort of your blankets, you found yourself drifting into a restless sleep. Gone were the beautiful landscapes you’d come to appreciate, replaced with images of Kamino, particularly the view from a large window. Even in sleep, your mind was working to place it, and judging by the perspective, you could pinpoint which structure it was from.

The barracks.

In the quiet corners of your mind, a realisation dawned. You hadn’t been having dreams of random landscapes; they were glimpses into someone else’s life, someone intimately connected to you. It explained the shift in your dreams, the sudden focus on places far removed from your reality. They were the places your soulmate had been seeing, the moments they had been living.

As you awakened to the soft light filtering through your window, the remnants of your dreams lingered in your mind. The realisation hit you like a ton of duracrete, settling heavily in your chest. Your soulmate was here on Kamino. The change in your dreams now made sense, and you couldn’t shake the excitement and apprehension coursing through you.

Before you could dwell too much on the revelation, there was a knock at your door. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, before pushing yourself off the bed and crossing the room to answer it. As the door slid open, you were met with the unexpected sight of Wrecker’s brothers standing in the corridor.

After brief introductions, Hunter spoke up. “We just wanted to swing by and thank you for what you did last night. Wrecker’s gonna pull through, and we owe that to you.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I was just doing my job. I’m glad I could help.” You answered, tucking yourself a little behind the door to hide the fact that you were still in sleepwear.

Crosshair’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, his sharp eyes taking in the details of your quarters. You shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the messiness of your living space.

“You paint.” Crosshair commented casually, his tone betraying none of the thoughts swirling in his mind as he looked over the landscapes you’d committed to canvas.

You reached up to play with the neckline of your sleep shirt, a nervous habit that had developed over the years. “Yeah. When inspiration strikes.”

Crosshair’s lips quirked up in a subtle smirk as he leaned against the doorframe, his eyes flicking to the painting on the easel beside you. “You been there?”

“No. I paint what I dream about.” You admitted, trying to keep your voice steady despite your gut’s strange flicker of anxiousness.

He nodded thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on you as if he were piecing together a puzzle. “Funny thing about dreams,” he mused, “sometimes they’re more than just figments of imagination.”

His words hung in the air, but before you could respond, Hunter cleared his throat, breaking the momentary tension. “Well, we should get going to the debriefing. Thanks again, doc.”

You nodded, thrown off-centre by Crosshair’s comment. “Of course. Take care, and I’ll check in on Wrecker later.”

As they turned to leave, Crosshair glanced at the painting you were currently working on before leaning toward you. “When you get around to painting it, the third tree from the right was missing the bottom five branches.” He murmured, a spark of amusement in his eyes. Then he followed his brothers down the corridor, leaving you mouth agape at the door.

For days, you couldn’t shake Crosshair’s comment from your mind. It added complexity to your interactions with him and his brothers, leaving you grappling with emotions you hadn’t anticipated.

Despite your best efforts to focus on your duties in the medbay, your thoughts kept drifting back to him. Every time you passed him in the corridors or caught his gaze across the mess hall, you felt a strange pull, as if invisible threads were tying you together.

It wasn’t just you, either. There were moments when you caught Crosshair watching you, his sharp eyes giving nothing away. It left you wondering what was happening beneath the surface and what thoughts were running through his mind as he looked at you.

Returning one evening to your quarters after another exhausting shift in the medbay, you found something amiss. The door to your cabin was slightly ajar, and a sliver of dim light spilt into the corridor. Your heart skipped a beat as a rush of adrenaline coursed through you. You cautiously pushed the door open, expecting the worst, only to be met with an unexpected sight.

Crosshair was inside your quarters, standing by the easel where your latest painting was. His attention was fixated on the canvas as if examining every brushstroke with precision. His presence in your private space sent a jolt of alarm through you, but you couldn’t deny the intrigue that accompanied it.

“Crosshair?” you ventured cautiously, stepping into the room with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. “What are you doing here?” you asked, unable to suppress the hint of accusation in your voice.

Crosshair turned to face you, his expression unreadable as he regarded you with those piercing eyes. “Admiring your work.” He replied casually, though there was a hint of something else in his voice.

You felt a surge of irritation at his nonchalant response. “It’s not polite to enter someone’s quarters without permission.” You retorted, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.

He shrugged, unfazed by your admonishment. “Noted.” He commented, his gaze drifting back to the paintings. “Figured I’d see if you were around.”

You felt a flutter of excitement mixed with apprehension at his words. “Well, here I am.” You said, gesturing to the room around you. “Not much to see, I’m afraid.”

Crosshair’s smirk widened into a grin, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “I wouldn’t say that.” He replied cryptically, his gaze lingering on you in a way that sent a strange sense of heat curling through you.

“How did you know about the branches?” You steered the conversation in what you hoped was a safer direction, shutting the door behind you before you crossed over to him, glancing at the painting.

Crosshair tilted his head slightly, his gaze still fixed on the painting. “I’m familiar with that species of tree.” He lied.

You narrowed your eyes sceptically, not convinced by his explanation. “It was more than that.” You countered, gesturing towards the canvas. “You pointed out a specific detail you wouldn’t know unless you’d been there or inside my head.”

He chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Let’s just say I have an eye for detail.” He said cryptically, his tone teasing.

You couldn’t help but feel frustrated at his evasive response. “You’re not going to give me a straight answer, are you?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest once more as you regarded him with curiosity and exasperation.

Crosshair turned to face you fully, a smirk tugging at his lips, his gaze intense. “Where’s the fun in that?” He replied, his tone playful.

You refused to back down. Holding his gaze, your lips pressed into a thin line.

The silence hung heavy in the air, and anxiousness clawed at Crosshair. He’d thought he could play dumb. He should’ve known better. With a heavy sigh, he gestured to your painting on the easel. “Myrkr. The coordinates for that spot are 42.3814° N, 80.0889° E. I was there eight rotations ago. It’s where Wrecker had his accident,” he confessed.

“Bormus.” He stated, gesturing to one of your other paintings leaning against the wall. “51.5074° N, -0.1278° W.” He rattled off the coordinates before moving on to another painting, and another, and another…

You’d seen glimpses of his life.

“Does this mean...?” You began, the words catching in your throat as you searched for the right way to express the flood of emotions coursing through you.

Before you could finish your sentence, Crosshair took a step closer, closing the distance between you until barely a breath of space separated you. His gaze bore into yours with an intensity that stole your breath away, sending a jolt of electricity dancing along your skin. “I think it means we have a lot to talk about.” He murmured, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

A thousand thoughts and emotions swirled through your mind, but in that moment, you could only focus on the undeniable pull drawing you towards him.

Crosshair’s hand gently cupped your cheek, sending a shockwave of warmth through you. His gaze softened. “I’ve been dreaming too.” He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to break the fragile spell that had enveloped the two of you.

Your breath caught in your throat at his confession. “What do you dream of?” You managed to ask, although you already knew the answer.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Crosshair’s lips, his thumb tracing a gentle path along your cheekbone. “Surgeries. Sterile medbays.” He answered. “While you get the landscapes I see, I get the shot regs and operations that you see.”

“Our link is sharing what we see.” You whispered, the realisation washing over you like a gentle wave. “Through our dreams.”

Crosshair nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Seems that way.” He agreed, his voice soft with a tenderness you hadn’t expected from him. “I never imagined my soulmate would be a hot doctor.” He confessed, sliding an arm around your waist to hold you close, his fingers that had been against your cheek now pushing errant strands of your hair out of your face.

A soft laugh escaped your lips as warmth swept through you. One hand moved to rest against his chest. “And I never thought mine would be a handsome soldier.” You admitted, reaching up with your free hand to ghost your fingers across his sharp jawline, relishing the feeling of his closeness.

Lost in each other’s eyes, the world outside your quarters faded into insignificance. “What do we do now?” You asked quietly, entirely at a loss.

“I’d like to explore this further.” He confessed, his voice rough with emotion as his gaze dipped to your lips for a fraction of a second. “If you’re willing.”

You nodded, a smile playing across your face. “I’d like that.”

Pleased, Crosshair spared no time before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

The galaxy ceased to exist. His lips were warm against yours, firm and demanding. You responded eagerly, your fingers dragging through his silver hair as you deepened the kiss, your heart pounding.

Crosshair pulled back, and you found yourself breathless and dizzy, your senses reeling from the intensity of the moment as his hands snaked towards your ass. Holding his gaze, you gasped quietly as his slender fingers grabbed at the curvature of your rear.

A smirk crossed his lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Not bad for a first kiss,” he remarked, his tone teasing, “but I think we can do better.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite the heat rising to your cheeks. “Yeah?” You challenged.

He leaned in closer, the scent of regulation soap and blaster cleaner filling your senses. His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “These hands don’t just make perfect shots.” He whispered.

With a playful swat to his chest, you chuckled, feeling a surge of excitement and a healthy dose of nervousness. “You better be prepared to back that up.”

Crosshair grinned as he pulled back, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Oh you can count on it.”

Tag list: @clonethirstingisreal @starrylothcat @cw80831 @issa-me-bry-blog @leftealeaf @isaidonyourknees @padawancat97 @dangraccoon @jedi-hawkins @dreamie411 @sverdgeir

Sign up to be tagged in my future fics.

#Soaring's Tours Follower Celebration #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x you #crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #tbb crosshair #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you #bad batch x reader #bad batch x you #tbb x reader #tbb x you #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair #ct 9904 #soulmate trope

[sunflowersandforgetmenots]

So glad to see you popping up on my dash!! I’ve got a req from the soulmates post!

#15 No harm done - soulmates are not able to hurt each other physically

This with Sevika? What if there’s a big fight and it’s down to the two of you and maybe you’re already pretty badly injured so she comes stalking over to finish the job and take you out but then she CANT 😫😭💕 OR!! Silco has you hostage and wants her to interrogate you? She’d wind up for a smack or something and just be stopped mid air. Either way, I’d love to see her face journey upon realizing who you are to her bc I imagine she’d be the type that’s convinced she’ll never find/doesn’t have a soulmate and now she has to accept that she is capable and deserving of love >:}

Also in the specific scenarios I can’t remember the number and I’m on mobile but the constant danger one would be so cute with Soma! Or really any of the ladies tbh they’re always into some shit lol I just always want more Soma in my life 💘

I'll write the Soma one later if I get the inspo in my brain for it! But here it is! Sevika for 15! It's a little angsty but also my first time writing for her!!!!

Summary: Telling Silco no is a bad idea, especially when he sends Sevika, his right hand, after you. Though... maybe it's not so bad if she can't actually hurt you?

Pairing: Sevika x Reader

Genre: Soulmate, Not Smut

Potential TW: Violence, some stalking, mentions of killing read

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The fear that struck your heart was not a new one, especially down here in Zaun. Fear was rampant in this place, no one was free from it. The lowest feared as prey, rabbits to be tracked and shot down by hunters. The highest weren’t exempt from it either, though the fear they felt was one born of greed. Of coins and power slipping through their fingers. 

It wasn’t like you intended to get on Silco’s bad side. You weren’t someone of power to be feared by others, you weren’t even really a threat to him. But you told him no. 

No, you wouldn’t serve his men. No, you wouldn’t distribute shimmer through Zaun. No, you wouldn’t back down. You liked Vander. You liked that he cared for his people without trying to beat others down. So what that he worked with Piltover? If it kept people safe, if it kept the upper side’s nose out of your business, so what. He was a father, a guardian. Silco was a monster. 

And you had told his right hand that, right to her face. Her rather handsome face, once found in Vander’s men, now stinking up the door to your establishment. It twists up in anger, in rage.

“What?” She had said, a simple, low voiced threat that had part of you thrumming with a disgusting streak of desire. 

“I said, no, Sevika. I’m not a pusher of some fucked up drug. I’m a fucking florist struggling to get through life down here. I can’t risk that.”

“Silco doesn’t take no for an answer, (Y/N).” She said. “Just because you’re ‘not the type’ doesn’t make you exempt from his requests.”

“He’s not a king. He’s not my boss.” You had responded, slamming the door shut in her face. She stayed there for a few moments, and you had feared for a few long moments that she was going to take that mechanical arm and punch through the door, taking your throat with it. 

Instead, she quietly left, taking her men laughing with her. 

You had thought that that was that. Silco and his men left you alone for a time, and instead, your flowers flourished. It was frustrating. There was an improvement with the shimmer, a double edged sword that you were sure would come crashing down on Zaun any moment. 

Then, Sevika started appearing standing on the other side of the street of your shop. Staring, waiting. Never making a move, never moving closer. It scared you, enough to make you change your routine, but like clockwork, she would adjust within a day. A predator, waiting for her chance to clamp her teeth around the throat of her prey.

So you decided to run. Pack your things and run. You could beg on the streets of Piltover. Hell, maybe you could even leave. Crossing Silco was one thing, but Sevika being the one to take you out? She was going to make it hurt. She was going to make sure that you weren’t found ever again. And you can’t risk it. 

Which is how you found yourself in this situation, sitting in some abandoned closet in some abandoned home, clutching a knife close to your chest as you hear Sevika rip through your belongings. 

You weren’t going to make it out of this alive, that knowledge settling deep in your bones. But you can give it a fighting chance, maybe she might make it quick, knowing you weren’t going to be a coward and die weakly. That’s the one thing you can do in Zaun: die strong.

Even so, a part of you mourned. You never figured out who they were, your soulmate, the one you were destined to love, waiting these long years in the darkness of Piltover. Waited for so long, only to be snuffed out by a mere puppet of a monsterous man who ruled your home. Your fingers tighten around the hilt of the knife as your killer approaches the closet. 

“Come out, (Y/N).” She says, voice low in that threatening way that made your stomach turn. “You know that you can’t fight me. Not with whatever little weapon you have. Silco just wants to talk.” 

“We both know that the talk is going to end up with me dead.” You say. You wish that you could respond with the confidence you had when you got yourself into this mess, all pride and strength. Instead, you just put your foot on the door, offering resistance for whenever she decided to rip it off the hinges. 

“Maybe if you stopped trying both of our patiences,” Sevika growls, punching the door for a threatening emphasis. “you wouldn’t be worried about that. You can either die now, or die if he gives the order.”

“I’m not gonna wait for that, and you know it.” 

She sighs, a deep, tired sigh. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

And the door comes right off its hinges, though your booted foot did nothing to give you time. The wood slings across to the other side of the room, and you start slashing wildly, missing each time before she knocks the dinky knife out of your hand with one flick. A scream escapes your lips, hoping beyond hope someone would take pity on your in your last moments, even if that someone was Sevika. You’re lifted up by your shirt collar and dragged out of the closet, kicking and sobbing for someone to save you. 

Your feet dangle, and without thinking, you wrap your hands around her organic wrist for some kind of subconsious reassurance. The feeling of her skin against your fingers shocks you. She’s human, just like you. but she’s fixing to kill you. She’s killed before. She’s watched the life drain out of so many people and you were no exception. 

Your touch does nothing to her, seemingly. No flinch, no hesitation. Instead, she pulls back her mechanical fist and pulls it back. You close your eyes, tears dripping down your cheeks as you brace for the end. 

But the end doesn’t come. And it doesn’t come for a few minutes actually. So you crack open an eye, looking at her with relief. She must have changed her mind. The look on Sevika’s face however, was one of horror. Her fist was still raised, and you see the muscle of her shoulder straining. Then, you’re gently lowered to the ground, her hand still loosely curled into the fabric of your shirt.

“Ch… Change of mind?” You ask, still terrified out of your wits end. 

“I can’t.” 

“Can’t what? Kill me?”

“Hurt you.” She says. The words seem to slip out of her mouth, like she wanted to stop them before they were spoken. “I can’t hurt you, (Y/N).” 

It takes a moment. At first, you think she’s simply taking pity on you, or maybe she respects you too much after your attempts to prevent your own death. Then it sinks in. Sevika tried to hurt you, but physically, she couldn’t. Which meant…

“I’m your soulmate. We’re… We’re soulmates.” 

Speaking it out loud only seems to upset her further. She shifts, turning her face away and letting her right hand drop from your person. Though she doesn’t move, she doesn’t speak. She just looks… uncomfortable. 

As you stand there, basking in the strange feeling that your soulmate just tried to kill you, that your soulmate was Sevika, you come to realize something about Sevika. You thought her a killer, someone ready to switch sides at any given moment but… now, as she stands there awkward as a teenager, you remember that she might have had expectations about this too. Hopes about soulmates, dreams about them. Was she disappointed? Was she ashamed? 

“What are you going to do?” Is all you’re able to ask, all you can manage to get out. 

She regards you out of the corner of her eye before she runs a hand over her face. “... Let you go. But you need to get out of Zaun. Never come back here.” She says. 

“What? But you’re my… you want me to leave after we just found out???” 

“Obviously!” She snaps. “Silco wants you dead, I can’t afford to fail, but…” She moves as though she’s going to pace, but then stops, like she can’t bring herself to move from you. There’s a pause before she rests a hand on your shoulder. “I never thought I would have one… would have you. You’re a weakness, that insecurity was a weakness. That desire was. It still is. So you’re going to leave Zaun, hell, maybe the whole city. I can’t have you haunting my steps.”

“So I’m a bother to you??” You ask, incredulous at the fact that she’s trying to get you to leave. Angry at the fact that you finally have what you’ve always wanted and now she’s pushing you away despite the fact that maybe now she can protect you.

“You’re a weakness. And a pain in my ass.” Sevika says. “I’m not… I’m not doing this. Just leave.” 

And before you can say anything, she pulls you into a kiss, hard, fast, and passionate. Better than any you’ve had before. And you mourn this bittersweet moment, because you know deep down that she’s right. 

Her loyalty is to Zaun, and if anything comes before that…

She’d have helped kill Vander for nothing, because she would do the same things he did to make sure you were safe.

#sevika x reader #sevika #my writing #arcane x reader #soulmate trope

[barbra-annbunny]

Oh God, does it hurt when a lover is in pain; especially when they are out of reach from your touch.

They stared at the mirror in silence, a shared understanding of what they were seeing going unsaid. Instead of a reflection of the two men being shown in the mirror, there sat a person in a strange room. They were bent over a desk drawing on a peculiar tablet with a white stylus. Their long braids were laid flat against the back of the chair, tamped down by weird-looking earmuffs. This person wore a long shirt, a pair of shorts and not much else. Along their wrist was a hodgepodge of bracelets of all different kinds, these bracelets were nestled against the base of a tattoo. This tattoo was of a Chrysanthemum and Lily of the Valley, nestled side by side on the softest part of their inner forearm.

The men’s eyes widened before looking down to their own wrists. Upon the taller of the two’s inner forearm lay a Lily of the Valley and a Carnation nestled beside each other, as if in a warm embrace. Similarly, the blonde man had a Chrysanthemum and a Carnation laid in a similar embrace on the inner forearm. These men looked at each other again, blue meeting black. 

“I think I have a new dream,” The pirates said at the same time.

“Better than the All Blue?”, the green haired man smirked.

“Better than becoming the World’s Greatest Swordsman?” The other replied, as he put out his cigarette.

They looked back to the mirror and answered each other’s question in tandem, “Definitely.”

Carnation - January primary birth flower (reader)

Lily of the Valley - May primary birth flower (Sanji)

Chrysanthemum - November primary birth flower (Zoro)

Here’s a little blurb i wrote about Sanji and Zoro learning that their soulmate is in a completely different universe. I haven’t decided if I will expand this, let me know if you would be interested!

#zoro x sanji x reader #one piece #soulmate!au #soulmate tattoos #soulmate trope #soulmate au #angst? #zoro x reader #zoro x sanji #sanji x reader #zosan x reader

[silver-pieces]

prisoners

Pairing: Cassian Andor x fem!reader

Word Count: Almost 8.7k

Synopsis: You never expected to find your soulmate here.

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, smut (unprotected p in v sex, slight breeding kink), physical pain & trauma, depression, nightmares, prison, prison labour, open sea & dark water

A/N: For the prompt ‘Nightmare/Soulmark’ in Andor Bingo, created by @sw-andor​ This fic features major spoilers for Andor S1. Keef = Cassian. Divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics​.

“What’s she doin’ ‘ere?”

“I think that’s obvious.”

“Yeah but, she’s a woman.”

“What do they care? Man, woman, we’re all just slaves - ”

“Oi! Table five.” Kino barks from behind you. He stalks over, meeting everyone’s eyes with a glare. “Is there a problem?”

“Yeh’ve given us a woman,” the redhead says. “No offence, love, but why are you here? Shouldn’t you be with the other birds?”

“Shut it,” Kino growls. “It doesn’t matter why she’s here. She is. Now stop wasting my time and get back to work. Unless you want to get fried.”

Your feet shift nervously at the memory. Hot, electric pain. Everyone else stiffens too, a shared sense of dread filling the sterile air.

He takes you by the shoulders and pushes you towards one of the men. “Keef.”

A man with dark hair and even darker eyes looks up at the sound of his name, his gaze falling on you as he pauses mid-crank.

Your lips part, and your gaze lingers on the sight of his sleeves rolled up, his arms tensing with each push so hard, that, in any other circumstance, you might find it appealing.

“Show her the ropes.” Kino lowers his voice to a menacing growl. “And make sure she understands what’s at stake.”

The man gives him a subtle nod.

“You’re down four now, boys,” Kino says, his gaze shifting to you, “... and girl. No more distractions. Let’s get this done!”

They get back to work - a synchronised effort that you struggle to follow, only adding to the chaos happening around you. There are lasers and cranks and drills and pieces of machinery that they have to manually fit together. And the sounds are overwhelming - hardened voices overlapping with the whirring and clanking of the machines.

“I’m Jemboc,” the older one next to Keef says. “This is Ham, Xaul, Melshi, and Taga.” He goes around the table, pointing at each one.

You say your name in return, but it comes out feeble, your throat still not working properly. Xaul, the redhead, pins you with a look. Melshi mutters something to himself, shaking his head.

“Here,” Keef grunts to get your attention, beckoning you to his side. There's a lilt to his voice that pleases your ears. “Watch what I do closely. You have to pull your weight around here, or we all get fried, you understand?”

You manage to nod.

He removes the crank from the machinery and sets it aside, his hands moving deftly from one task to the next. You’re drawn to his hands, the display of skill and strength sending heat down your spine. His brows are lowered, his gaze focused.

Each part requires something different - to pull, crank, lift, reach, press, load. It's heavy labour, but he proves himself more than capable.

"It's easy once you get into the swing of things," Jemboc's voice taking you out of your trance as he steps beside you.

"Right.” You’re not sure you want to get into the swing of things.

The older man frowns at you, but there's a kindness in his eyes.

"Are you getting it?" Keef growls to you as he lifts his hands and backs away from the table.

You nod.

He draws near and ducks his head down, a patient look in his eyes. "Any questions, you can just ask me."

Your heart flutters. Heat rises to your face, though you're not sure why. "Thanks."

With a nod, he turns back to the table and starts loading alongside the others, letting you stand by his side and watch.

No more words are exchanged apart from the occasional barked order from the others - push!, lift!, and hands away!

They get more frantic as time passes. Kino calls something out and your table groans in response.

You realise that they're falling behind.

Get back to work. Unless you want to get fried. Shit. There is no way you're taking that punishment again if you can help it.

Stomach in knots, you step up beside Keef. "I've seen enough, let me help."

He eyes you, a muscle feathering in his jaw, before handing you the crank. As your hand closes around it, he mutters, "Be careful."

A shiver runs down your spine. His voice is low and smooth and it does something to your body that momentarily distracts you from this hell.

Hesitantly, you take the crank from his grip and fasten it to the piece of machinery.

"Table five, your productivity levels are unacceptable. Proceed to the centre of the room and remain on program."

The soles of your feet tingle with each step on the floor. Your head is spinning, heart pounding, mouth drier than a desert.

The others at your table stand with you in the centre of the floor. For a second, you allow yourself a glance over at Keef.

He’s staring straight forward, a dead look in his eyes, but the tiniest shuddering expanse of his chest betrays his fear.

You close your eyes and wait.

No no no no no no no no no -

It slices through your body and your muscles seize with pain. A cry escapes your lips. Your knee hits the floor painfully hard as your legs give way, and the cries of the others violates your ears, inescapable.

It's over in seconds, but it feels like hours.

Your lungs draw ragged breaths. Tears leak from your eyes, and you wipe them away before anyone sees.

Stand. The others are already getting up - you need to follow, quickly, before they decide to punish you again. But your legs are too weak.

A familiar outstretched hand enters your vision.

Your gaze trails up the veins in his forearm, to the sleeves bunched up over his biceps. "Come on," Keef urges softly. "You have to get up."

With all your willpower, you reach up and grab him by the forearm, his hand closing around the inner side of your forearm, bracing you there to help you up.

"Ah!" you hiss, pulling away as a sudden burning sensation flares where his hand touches you.

“Shit!” He grits out, exchanging a confused look with you, and then looks down at his own arm, where you touched him.

Your breath halts as you see it - the symbol burned into your skin, on the inner side of your upper forearm. It’s a simple slashing of lines, but the meaning it carries is far more significant - a soulmark.

He’s staring at the same symbol on his own skin in stunned silence.

“Keef,” you breathe.

Then the deep warped voice of the prison interrupts.

“Prisoners on program. Proceed to your quarters.”

He takes one frantic look at you, and then turns his head forward, following the prison directive and raising his hands behind his head on program. The sleeve, you noticed, he pulls down to hide the mark.

You quickly do the same, assuming the position, even though every fibre of your being is flooded with shock.

As you file through the doors with the others, you can barely hear anything over the pounding of your own ears. Your mind struggles to make sense of what just happened, let alone process everything else that’s happened to you in the last twenty-four hours.

Keef falls in line behind you.

Instantly, you feel his eyes on you, the heat prickling at the back of your neck.

The line of prisoners shuffles along through a long corridor, passing the night shift, stopping and starting up again until you're at your quarters.

"Jemboc, give her the orientation," Kino directs the older man, before leaving you behind to deal with another group of men.

Jemboc turns to you. "Come on, I'll show you your cell."

As he takes you down through the hallway, you see Keef emerge out of the corner of your eye, and when he reaches his own cell, so do you. Directly opposite from each other.

Your eyes meet.

Stars. Finding a soulmate is rare, practically unheard of for most. But he’s here, and the mark is burned into your flesh, still throbbing with fresh pain as you run your fingers over it.

Jemboc starts explaining what the lights on the floor mean, but you can’t seem to take your eyes off of Keef, raking your gaze over his tense form, brown hair mussed and grown out, dark eyes you could lose yourself in, even as you listen to Jemboc listing all the various rules.

“You understand?” Jemboc asks you.

Not really. “Yes,” you reply with a nod, dragging your eyes away.

“What are you in for, anyway?”

“Loitering.” You’ve grown numb to the anger.

“I see.” Jemboc pats you on the shoulder. “You’ll be okay, sister. We all will be, soon.”

“Hey!” The bark of another prisoner cuts him off.

It’s Xaul, pushing past the others, stalking towards you with a deadly glare.

You take a step back on instinct, and Jemboc folds his arms defensively, but it’s Keef who gets in his way.

With a growl, he pushes off the wall, getting in Xaul’s face before he can reach you. “What’s your problem, huh?” he growls. “You’re scaring her.”

Xaul growls, jabs his finger in your direction, and shifts his glare to Jemboc. “Not her.”

They exchange unreadable glances.

Jemboc scowls and takes him by the shoulder, leading him out of earshot from you. The two of them begin talking in low, urgent tones, Xaul shooting you another glare.

Your hands curl into fists at your side.

Hesitantly, Keef turns to you, his head ducked low in sincerity. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice coming out softer than you’ve heard before.

“No,” you say, even as warmth fills you at the concern in his devastatingly brown eyes. Stars, but the sight of him pleases you. “I think we need to talk.”

“Agreed,” he nods, holding his forearm with his other hand, his eyes briefly glancing down, “but we don’t have the time or the privacy in here.”

You draw nearer. “How long is left on your sentence?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “That doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I don’t understand.”

His eyes dart to Xaul and Jemboc. “I wish I could tell you. I - ” he cuts himself off as the floor lights start flashing.

In seconds, the hall clears as the rest of the inmates scramble to get into their cells. Keef pushes you towards yours. “Go.”

With his push, you step up into your cell before the lights can turn red. What was it Jemboc said? Seven seconds when the lights start flashing, then they turn red. And if you’re caught in the red light, you die.

On instinct, you turn back around to see Keef again.

Your soulmate.

He stands in his cell across from you, an unreadable expression on his face, his mouth in a grim line, as the lights begin to dim.

The floor lights turn red a second later.

There is no way to get to him now, and no way of talking across the hall without everyone in the surrounding cells hearing you. That’s not an option.

He lingers at the edge of his cell, and so do you, for a time, struggling with this new feeling inside you - this urge, compelling you towards him. Even if you don’t know him yet, you want to.

So you’re paralysed in silence; staring at each other across several feet of deadly flooring.

The murmurs of the other inmates eventually peter out, and as the snoring starts to rise, you feel your eyes growing heavy.

You curse beneath your breath.

Keef must hear it, because he raises his chin and nods in understanding, retreating from the edge of his cell and into darkness.

Grimly, you turn away from him, towards your bunk.

They're everywhere. They're watching you. They know what you've done. You're going to be punished -

You wake up in a cold sweat, gasping for air.

"Hey, hey, breathe." Keef's hushed voice carries across the cell.

Your eyes dart around until you see him, a broad mass in the shadows, sitting on the edge of his bunk across the way.

The soft sound of the other men snoring in their cells settles over the silence.

"It was just a nightmare," he whispers across the corridor. "I'm right here."

You blink back tears, and push yourself up by your elbows. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I couldn’t sleep.”

You run your hand down over your face. There’s been a lot of that lately.

A few shifts in, you found yourself staring at the ceiling of your cell counting the seconds going by, running your fingers over the soulmark on your arm, unable to stop thinking about him.

You’ve memorised his form and features with almost no effort - the cut of his jawline, occasionally peppered with stubble if he hasn’t shaved, being your latest obsession.

And you can feel when he looks at you, too. Devouring glances out of the corner of your eye that set your cheeks aflame.

It’s like your body is on high alert at all times. Working alongside him throughout the day, barely able to exchange a few words without anyone overhearing, passing by each other, brushing past each other so close your skin hair raises, but not touching, never touching, just savouring the few small moments in his presence and then trying to go to sleep every night knowing he is a only few feet away from you.

But it’s worse, somehow, when you do manage to turn your brain off. That’s when the nightmares come.

It’s relentless and repetitive; nothing but the Empire and memories of pain, torturing you through your sleep.

Keef’s been developing shadows beneath his eyes as well. You wish you could talk to him about it, but he doesn’t seem to want anyone else to know about your soulmarks, and shit, neither do you. It's hard enough to even admit to yourself, let alone have the others staring at you, judging you more than they already do for being the only woman here.

And if the prison ever found out, they could take you away from each other. Your gut clenches at the thought.

Fuck. Trying to drag your emotions out of the gutter before you break is becoming harder everyday. The weight on your shoulders is crushing you, and you can’t see any light at the end of this tunnel.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” you confess, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He stands, coming to the edge of his cell in the low, red lighting. “Don’t say that,” he whispers. “Don’t let them break you.”

You fiddle with your mattress. Don’t let them break you? They already are, and it isn’t your choice.

“Listen to me,” he says, raising his voice to a low growl.

You look up at him, drawing in a shaky breath.

“You had a nightmare, but you woke up from it.” The urgency in his baritone voice calls to you, and you stand, approaching the edge of your cell as he continues. “That’s all this place is. It’s a nightmare. You don’t realise it while you’re inside, but you’re in control. All you have to do is wake up.”

“What are you saying?”

He meets your gaze, an intense, unreadable look in his eyes. “I'm saying, hold on. Just a little while longer. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” you breathe, before you realise what you’re saying. You blink and look away from him, frowning. “I can.”

His words paint a picture in your mind, one of you, years from now, out of here. On some beach planet or forest town, enjoying the sun on your face. This place, a distant memory in the back of your mind.

Just a nightmare.

A slight smile finds its way onto your face at the thought. You meet Keef’s gaze again, the fierceness in his eyes amplified by the red of the floor, and nod in gratitude.

“I’ll try.”

His shoulders relax slightly, and he nods. “That’s all we can do.”

You sleep.

There’s a warmth in you when you wake, a buzz from the memory of last night. That was the longest conversation you’ve had yet, and even if you couldn’t talk openly, it still felt real.

When you first open your eyes, you’re drawn to his cell on instinct, drinking in the sight of him every chance you can get.

But it’s like he hasn’t moved all night. He’s leaning one shoulder against the wall at the edge of his cell, arms still folded, and he’s staring at you, his dark brows furrowed, the slight stubble peppering his clenched jaw telling you he hasn’t shaved since yesterday. Movement draws your gaze to his arm, where his knuckles shift back and forth, running over that small mark on his arm.

Heat slowly rises to your face.

The floor is still red. The others are awake too, the few you can see from your cell having breakfast or pacing around their small cell. The slight murmur of muted voices blending together.

“Did you sleep?” you ask him.

He gives the subtlest shake of his head.

Your heart sinks.

It’s not just being around him that you can’t bear, it’s also seeing him suffer and not being able to help. You have to keep holding back these strange, rising urges to comfort him. It doesn’t help that he has those big, soulful brown eyes that could melt you down into the cracks of the floor.

You’re not in love, but he matters to you more with each passing day, and that feeling is killing you.

Damn, you thought you’d grown numb to everything, but suddenly the despair is back with a vengeance, and you have to look away to blink back sudden tears.

“Hey,” he calls to you. “You okay?”

Shaking your head, you blow out a breath and chant in your head, don’t break, don’t let them get to you.

He curses, and then he’s pushing of the wall to pace his cell. His shoulders tense with each breath.

You draw near the edge of your cell, watching him try to walk out the tension in his body, your heart caught between desire and despair.

It’s a vicious cycle of suffering between the two of you.

Then the floor lights shift from red to white.

“On program!” Kino calls out.

Prisoners load out of their cells, slowly getting into their line with murmurs and sluggishness.

Keef is already on the floor when you tentatively step down, enduring that moment before your feet touch the metal with your heart in your throat every time. White lights means it’s safe, but -

He approaches you suddenly, closing his hand around the nape of your neck, tipping his forehead against yours. Warm electricity floods through your veins and over your skin at his touch.

“Keef,” you stutter out, shocked at his public display, even as you sink further into his touch. The sounds of shock and angry voices from the men around you start kicking off, but you ignore them.

“Please,” he breathes, his forehead pressed firmly against yours, his face inches away, “it’s killing me. I know you’re scared - I know. What can I do?”

You shake your head. “I - ”

“What the fuck are you two doing?”

Kino.

You pull him off you and step away.

He shudders at your touch, and you realise with a jolt that you took his arm right at the soulmark. For a brief moment, he cradles his arm, before Kino approaches and the two of you join the others in line.

“Hm?” The man raises his eyebrow at the both of you. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“It was nothing,” Keef responds. “Just making sure she’s okay.”

Kino glances at you, an unreadable look on his face. “Are you?”

“I’m fine,” you say, but even you can hear the shakiness in your own voice.

He blinks, searching your gaze. Then he grabs Keef by the arm and leans in to whisper something in his ear.

As Keef listens, he sets his eyes on you, before giving Kino a firm nod.

Apparently satisfied, the older man steps away and raises his voice to the rest of the men.

“Time to face another day. Everyone, move.”

As you begin walking forward, you turn your head to whisper back to him, “what was that?”

“Don’t worry,” Keef whispers. “He’s on our side.”

The tension is high at table five.

“I don’t think they should be next to each other today,” says Taga, eyes darting nervously between the two of you.

“Why?” Keef growls.

“Does he really have to say why?” Xaul interrupts. “You like her.”

“It could be a distraction,” Ham mutters.

“No.” Keef glares. “She stays by my side. Kino’s orders.”

“Oh, ‘Kino’s orders’? Fuck that. We don’t want to get fried 'cuz of you,” Xaul growls.

Keef turns his ire on Xaul. "And when was the last time that happened? If memory serves, not since she started here, under my guidance."

A mutter goes around the table.

"Table five, get moving," Kino warns as he passes by.

"Let's get this done," Keef growls, and that's the end of the discussion.

The next days feel different, and the same.

You try to hold on, like you promised him, but the nightmares and the sleepless nights are getting worse.

You touched each other for the second time ever, felt the warmth of his hands on you, breathed the same air, the memory of seeing the depths of darkness in his brown eyes up close is carved into your mind, and now the yearning inside of you has developed; a deep ache in your bones.

The others can sense something more is up between you. You feel their eyes follow you; but you can't bring yourself to care whether they notice the way he always rushes to your aid, or the soft exchanges of words, or the way the two of you never move too far apart. You can't fight this growing need to be around him. You're soulmates. Whatever that means.

"Doctor! We need the doctor!"

Your ears prick at the commotion at table two. Everyone keeps working, but out of the corner of your eye you watch as Kino goes over to investigate.

"Is it another panic attack?"

You push down on the drill.

"...he's not breathin'"

You lift it up and inspect the results.

"Shit. I’ll call the doctor."

Your table begins to lift the cog off the table to load it on the rack. You step away, watching them move. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the man keeled over on the floor.

A little bit of your soul cracks.

Keef returns to your side, and it’s brief, but his arm brushes against yours.

He doesn’t even need to say anything - you meet his brown-eyed gaze and all the hurt in your lungs evaporates.

“Unit Five-Two-D on program.”

He flicks his gaze up to the entrance, a gleam in his eyes.

You put your hands behind your head and turn to face them as the doctor is lowered onto the floor.

The man is dead.

There’s a strange anticipation in the air, like the way the air gets dry before a storm hits.

You watch them carry the man away in a bodybag. You catch Xaul and Jemboc exchanging a look. You catch the way Kino nods subtly to Keef as he walks past.

Everyone goes silently to their quarters - not even a whisper.

“Fall out!” Kino yells.

You turn to Keef. “What is going on?”

He pulls you aside, leaning in with his voice down low. “Do you trust me?”

“Why?”

“Tomorrow, whatever Kino says, I want you to follow immediately. No hesitation. You understand?”

“What - ”

“I can’t explain. I wish I could, but - ” His eyes catch on someone over your shoulder, and his mouth closes in a grim line.

You glance back and see Xaul, watching from a distance, arms folded, jaw tense. He’s never seemed to trust you, and you don’t blame him, but the way he watches you at all times is hard to get comfortable with.

“I don’t understand,” you turn back to your soulmate and search his eyes, “but... I trust you.”

An unreadable expression flashes in his eyes, and then everything is swept away as he takes you by the waist, cups your chin, and sweeps you into a gentle kiss.

For a nanosecond you freeze, before the rush of adrenaline fills your veins and you melt against his lips. The soulmark pulses on your arm, and the most amazing feeling overtakes you, of drifting high up in the clouds and watching the sun rise. You pull him closer, threading your fingers through his hair. The bristle of his five-o’clock shadow makes itself known with each movement, desire pooling in your core as you move your body against his. He feels so real, solid and alive, and it’s breathtaking.

The sounds of the world around you only vaguely registers in your head. Men, shouting at you.

Fuck them. Nothing else matters. You’re in the arms of your soulmate and you never want to leave again.

Then one voice, Kino’s, pierces through your haze. “Oi! The floor!”

Your eyes fly open as Keef breaks off the kiss and pushes you towards your cell with a growl.

You barely have time to react. Between the flashing lights, you lunge for the safe zone, leaping up into it seconds before the place is bathed in red.

“Fuck!”

You turn around.

He stands in his cell across from you, panting, his hair mussed from your attention. His eyes are wild, staring at you like he’s waiting for you to drop dead.

The instinct to reassure him overwhelms you. “I’m okay,” you say, stepping away from the edge. “I made it.”

He closes his eyes, running a palm over his mouth, and his shoulders rise and fall with a deep, shuddering breath.

You look down at your soulmark. That heightened feeling is fading, fast, each second you’re not back in his arms. A vision enters your head, of you, throwing yourself across the hall, even though you know that ends in death.

“You two lovebirds have a death wish?” Kino yells from his cell.

Shit.

“I told you they were distracting each other.”

“Gonna get us killed.”

Murmurs ripple down the hall. Heads, poking out of their cells.

Keef shakes his head, eyes swimming with anger. His voice is low, but you still hear it above the din. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken that risk.”

His words should fill you with regret, but a part of you, a small, stubborn part, thinks that maybe it was worth it anyway, just to touch him again, to feel his arms around you, the dominance of his kiss.

You close your eyes, a hand going to your mouth on instinct, fingertips trailing where he had his mouth on yours.

“Enough!”

Kino’s bark gets everyone’s attention instantly. The chatter dies down.

You open your eyes, and Keef is staring at you, a hungry look in his eyes. Heat rises to your face.

“Everyone knows what the plan is. Yes?”

Mumbles of men in agreement echo through the hall. You tilt your head, trying to discern any information you can, but pick up nothing. Nothing except that Keef looking towards Kino’s cell with fire in his eyes - tense, almost like hope, but darker.

Anger.

“Good. Now’s the time to rest. Tomorrow, we fight.”

A chill runs down your spine.

He’s shirtless in the morning.

Instantly pushing yourself up, your gaze locked on his chest, his stomach v, his arms, you catch his attention with the sudden movement.

He snaps his gaze to yours, pausing mid-stretch. His arm pulled across his chest, braced against his other arm to stretch his shoulder, the ropes of his biceps on full display for you.

“Hi,” you say.

Your swear his mouth curves just slightly, a twitch in his face, and he nods at you.

“Hi.”

All the blood in your body has left your brain. You continue to stare at him like an idiot while he does some basic stretches, before the lights flick to white, and Kino yells his daily on program! while Keef slides his shirt back on.

You fall in line in front of him.

He stands closer to you than normal, pressing his up front against you, his breath fanning against the back of your head as he leans in. His lilting voice sounds lowly in your ear, a lilting, baritone sound. “Remember what I said?”

Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation. “F-Follow Kino,” you manage to stutter out.

He hums in approval. “Good girl.”

Your thighs clench together.

He’s getting more bold in front of the others, more playful, and you can’t help but feel excited and nervous by the shift. Why has he stopped hiding?

The line starts moving forward, and you follow the person in front of you to the showers as normal, trying to focus on anything but what he just said.

He thinks there’s a chance you could both escape, you think, and then immediately regret that line of thinking. But it’s too late. That future you imagined - the one that he planted in your mind with his words, shifts, and suddenly he’s there beside you in each vision, relaxing, laughing, grinning like an idiot.

Fuck.

The shift begins, the men exchanging knowing glances that have anticipation and dread growing in your belly. You know what this is by now, you’ve put the pieces together despite their weird reluctance in telling you.

This escape plan is really happening.

The new prisoner arrives shortly after your shift begins, and when Keef returns from the bathroom soaking wet, you barely have time to react before shit hits the fan.

Obeying Kino’s orders, you watch as together the other prisoners hijack the lift and short out the entire system - no more hot floor.

As he reaches the top, Keef turns back to pin you with a wild, furious look in his eyes that fills you with fire. He jerks his head for you to follow him.

So you do.

You climb. You run. You follow.

A guard catches you and tries to pull you away, but Keef is there in a flash of red and the smell of burning flesh, grabbing you by the hand and telling you to run as the man slumps to the ground.

The loading platform ends in a sheer drop to the sea. Your stomach drops as you pull back, glancing around as others begin to jump.

This is insane.

“I can’t swim!”

You barely hear Kino say it over the sound of the wind and the other prisoners, but then he says it again, and there is no doubt.

You step up beside him. “Me neither.”

Keef stares at you in shock.

And then he’s gone.

One of the men drags him off the edge by accident, and a shriek escapes you. “No!” but you can only watch as he disappears from sight.

A second goes by, then two. More men rush past.

There's nothing but the sound of blood pumping in your ears. No matter which way you think about it, if you follow, you're dead. There's no way you can swim that far, and if Keef tries to help you, he'll probably just die with you.

You fall to your knees.

Others race past you still, flinging themselves off the edge one by one. Kino stands by your side, watching them with an empty gaze.

“What do we do now?” you ask, and find yourself subconsciously cradling your arm, the soulmark on it beginning to throb painfully. Follow Kino, he said, but you’re not sure Kino has any moves left. There’s none you can see; no way to survive.

Maybe you should just jump anyway and let fate decide.

“Nothing.” Kino looks down at the gun in his hand. “We’re going out, one way or another.”

You nod and take in a deep breath of salty ocean air. “Agreed.”

He says nothing.

“Ah!” Your soulmark throbs again, and you grip your arm, hissing through your teeth. “Fuck off!”

“Sorry?” Kino growls.

"It’s uh,” you pull back your sleeve to him, “my soulmark.”

He blinks. “Damn. Keef?”

“Yeah.”

“That explains you two then.” He nods, casting his gaze out to sea. “I... I have a family.”

You peer up at him.

“I just wanted to see them again.” He looks down at the gun in his hands again.

“At least you know you tried,” you offer. “Sometimes...” Keef’s words ring true, pouring from your lips even as you hear the memory of his words spoken in your mind. “...that’s all we can do.”

The two of you linger in silence. Below you, the forms of men swimming away from the prison spread out, reaching towards the horizon. The soulmark on your arm is aching something fierce now, calling you to the edge. But it’s the realisation that Keef must be feeling this pain too, that hurts even more.

You hope he is trying anyway, down there, despite the pain.

He’s probably thinking the same thing about you.

Damn.

You stand. “Give me the gun.”

Kino hands it to you without even looking, his eyes remaining fixed on the horizon.

You turn around, facing the inside of the prison, and point the gun at one of the panels of the wall. The sound of the blast almost deafens you.

The panels sizzle where the blast hit, but as you approach, you can see them peeling away from each other at the seam. Without hesitation, you wedge the barrel of the gun in the hole, and with all your strength, try to peel the panel off the wall.

“What are you doing?” Kino growls.

You glance back at him with a half-cocked shrug.

“Finding something that floats.”

Wet.

Cassian’s fingers close around sand. His lungs are on fire, exacerbated by the stinging salt he inhales with each breath. Everything hurts.

A shadow relieves him from the sun. He looks up and for a moment, it’s you, the beautiful image of you reaching down for him tilting this world on its axis. Then he blinks, and Melshi comes into focus.

“We need to disappear,” he’s saying, scanning their surroundings.

Cassian tries to push himself up, but there’s a terrible ache emanating from his soulmark. It was easy to ignore in the sea - everything hurt. But now it spreads through his body, an urging like no other to wade back out into the dark waves - to go back for you.

He wants to punch the man who tackled him off the edge. Whoever it was. But as soon as he hit the water, swimming was the only way to survive.

“Did ya hear me? Keef?”

With a grunt, Cassian sits up and brushes off his hands, wincing when his arm throbs with the movement. “Did anyone else make it?”

Melshi squints. “If they did, they didn’t follow us.”

Yeah, that’s what he thought. Even if, by some miracle, you did make it, you could be miles apart, with no way of finding each other.

It would be enough to know that you survived, but he’s never been that lucky. No. He thinks of you, of your tentatively hopeful expressions that get him through the day, that beautifully trusting look in your eyes right before he kissed you, and has to tilt his head back to prevent his eyes from watering.

His soulmate. Dead.

He thought that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he could save you.

“Keef.” Melshi stoops down beside him. “We have to move.”

“What do you know about soulmarks?” he murmurs.

Melshi sighs. “You’re dehydrated, mate. C’mon.” He goes to lift him up.

“No - no!” Cassian resists, pushing Melshi away and scrambling to his feet. He shoves back his sleeve and bares his soulmark. “I need to know! I need to...” He cuts himself off with a grimace as pain pulses through the mark.

Melshi stares at the mark, wide-eyed. “No shit. The girl?”

Cassian can only nod. “She doesn’t even know - my real name.” He chokes the words out past tears. “I thought I could save her. But she’s... she’s probably dead by now.” It feels like he’s separated from his body, like someone else is saying these things.

“Wouldn’t you know?”

Cassian stills. “What do you mean?”

Melshi hesitates.

“What do you mean?!” He grips at his hair, heart thudding in his chest so hard it might burst. “How would I know?!”

“I don’t know! It was just a story, back home - people said the marks are like homing beacons. So if she’s dead, your mark would... stop working.” He cringes, muttering, “it sounds stupid when I say it like that.”

Cassian looks down at it the throbbing, aching mark. He focuses on it, and - there - the throbbing pulls towards the sea.

He looks out at the waves. “She’s alive.”

His legs carry him forward, back into the sea. The sound of Melshi yelling behind him is a distant worry over the beating of his own heart, the very blood in his veins burning to get to you.

Then arms close around him, pulling him back. “You’re insane!”

He snarls and shoves Melshi back. “Get off me!”

“You’ll die!”

“I have to go back!”

Melshi lets him go. “Okay okay, just - just think about this! You’re no use to her dead.”

“You don’t get it. You don’t understand. If she’s alive - ”

“If she’s still alive, she’ll need more than just one man swimming out to rescue her!” His gaze darts down. “Is it getting better or worse?”

“What?”

He points to Cassian’s soulmark. “It’s painful, right? Is it getting worse?”

Cassian looks down at it. “It’s been about the same for a while now.” Fucking painful, but, “...maybe a little less than before. I don’t know!”

Melshi nods. “So she could be getting closer.”

“If that is how it works.” Instinct - the mark - tells him it does, but the panic in his chest won’t go away. He needs to see you. “So what do I do then? Wait around for her to find me? She can’t swim, so how - ”

“I don’t care!” Melshi interrupts. "But if you don’t return to shore with me, I will knock you unconscious and drag you back.” There’s a deadly serious look in the man’s eyes.

The ache within him isn’t going away. He’s not sure how much more he can take. But Melshi is right - it would be a death wish to swim back.

The prison is a blip on the horizon. Could you have really made it, somehow?

Melshi eyes him aggressively, waiting for him to make a move.

Cassian raises an eyebrow. “You really care about me that much?”

“You’ve been a bloody pain in my arse, but you were instrumental in our escape, so I figure I owe ya.”

With a nod, he looks back towards land, skimming his fingers over the waist-high water. “We wait here then.”

“They’ll be sending ships looking for us.”

“I won’t go any farther inland.”

Melshi shakes his head. “Fine.” With a splash, he begins wading toward the shore. “Then we’d better find some shelter for the night.”

It’s midnight. Probably, anyway. Cassian has no sense of time here, except that it's been dark for a while.

He sits with his face tilted up to the stars. The sea breeze is a cool rush of air, swaying the tree above and rustling his hair across his face.

He needs a haircut again.

The mark on his arm has steadied to a slow, aching pulse every few seconds, nothing more than the sensation of a mending bruise.

Melshi is right - he can feel it in his veins that you're getting close.

So he's waiting.

Sleep will not come to him tonight. Like you, it eludes him, and in its place, the unnatural sense that something is missing.

It's subtle, at first. A crashing of waves that don't fit the slow, steady beat he's been listening to all night.

Then, the sound of voices out there. A man's, deep and grating, and yours.

He'd recognise it anywhere.

He peers around the tree, out towards the sea, and sees a shape floating on the water.

“Melshi.” He hisses his companion’s name, getting up. “Melshi! It's them.”

“Huh,” Melshi starts, half awake.

“It’s them. I’m going to get her.”

He groans, shifting his arms up to cover his face. “They’re actually here? Wha’ are the chances? How?”

“I don’t know.” Breathless, Cassian turns toward the sea, towards the place his soulmark has been calling him towards all night. “But I’m going to find out. Come on.”

He runs to the water.

Sand sprays beneath his feet, then water splashes, and then he’s wading, then swimming, towards it. The shape blotting out the stars on the horizon morphs into two silhouettes sitting on some kind of raft. They’re slowly paddling their way towards the shore.

Cassian wants to weep with joy when he hears their voices - first Kino, then you.

“Is that - ”

“Keef? Keef!” you cry out, your voice hoarse.

His palm collides with the raft - a smooth white panel, and there you are, sitting on one side with a salt-streaked, wind-struck, beautiful face, staring down at him in wonder.

“Well shit,” Kino croaks, glancing at you. “You were right.”

Your hand rests over your soulmark as you stare down at Cassian.

Stars. There is so much he wants to say, but none of it seems like enough for this moment. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off you - he can’t.

But as the waves gently rise and fall, Kino clears his throat pointedly. “Much as I love being surrounded by water...”

“Right, right.” Cassian grabs hold of the panel. “I’ll take you to shore.”

The soft strokes of the sea abuts his efforts as he pulls the raft behind him, until the sea floor shallows out and he can put his feet beneath him.

“You should be good now. You can stand,” he says, instantly returning to your side of the raft. “Melshi’s with me, on the shore.”

Kino nods, sliding off the edge. “We should bury the panel.”

“Agreed.”

You hesitantly dip your legs in the water, and Cassian places his hands on your waist ready to help you down. “I’ve got you.”

In the darkness he can barely see your face, but he could swear there’s a heat reflected in your eyes.

It feels good, coming to you aid on instinct. Putting his hands on you.

As he holds you steady, you gently slip off the edge of the raft and collide against him with an oof as you land.

Despite his exhaustion, his shaft hardens. To go from be denied his soulmate for so long, to this...

“Here,” he says, roughly pushing the panel towards Kino, his eyes never leaving your face. “Go see Melshi. We’ll catch up.”

The man grunts something, and begins to wade to shore with the panel, and then he’s forgotten as Cassian is drawn back to you on instinct.

His arms tighten around your waist, and he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He’s struck.

You cup his face, gaze flitting between his eyes and his mouth, your breaths mingling, and then suddenly he’s pressing his mouth against yours.

You let out a cute little gasp against him, and his chest flutters, as you yield to him.

Yes. He burns with the rightness of this moment, and yet braces you against him as he deepens the kiss, like he’s afraid you’re going to slip away. He doesn’t quite believe you’re real yet.

Your fingers dig into his hair, and he likes it, the way you pull him into you with the same hunger and desperation he’s feeling.

“Cassian,” he breathes suddenly, pulling back for a moment, his forehead pressed against yours. “My real name is Cassian.”

“Cassian,” you repeat, and then your mouth curves into a smile - a fucking smile.

He almost groans. His soulmark pulses warmly against you. “You’re alive.”

“Yes,” you breathe, nodding against him.

“You’re my soulmate.”

You nod again, clinging tight to him. “Yes.”

A low, reverent chuckle escapes him, and you let out a light giggle in response; together relishing in the intimacy of this moment.

And then you cant your hips, and his laugh turns into a groan, a new kind of bliss making itself known in the hardening of his length beneath his pants. He thinks he’s never seen anything as beautiful as the look in your eyes. Full of passion - a beautiful, twisting flame, but also, understanding. You barely know each other, and yet it’s like your souls know each other intimately; bound together by something greater than either of you can fathom.

With a swift motion, he sweeps your legs out from underneath you and hitches your thighs around his waist so you're floating in the water, anchored in place by him alone.

You press yourself into him, arching your back and leaning forward to brush your lips against his.

He kisses you with all the fervour and unfulfilled need building inside him. His hands come around your ass and dig in, tugging your crotch against him so you can feel his hardness.

Another heady, submissive gasp escapes you against his mouth, and when your legs open further to let him settle against you, he's done for.

“I know you’re probably tired,” he murmurs, “and we should probably get to shore, but I...”

You're nodding before he even finishes the sentence, making his heart soar with the needy look in your eyes. “Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, yes, please, Cassian, please.”

With a breathless laugh, he drops your thighs and takes you by the waistband of your pants instead.

Together, you work to pull it off of you. It’s awkward, messy, not how he imagined this going, but it doesn’t matter. The mood is playful as you struggle to pull your pants off beneath the water - you, bracing yourself on his shoulders, and him, trying to pull it off your legs and getting splashed in the process.

But then suddenly you’re fully naked from the waist down, and your laughter quietens as you draw close to each other again.

He can’t see your naked lower half beneath the dark water, but he can feel when you wrap your legs around him again.

Slowly, he places his hand on your bare thigh, treating the moment with all the reverence of a ritual, his soulmark tingling in anticipation and sending a shudder through his body.

With his other hand, he cups your face, searching your gaze.

“I’m clean.”

“Same.”

“Birth control?”

Something like pain flickers in your eyes, and you shake your head. “Not since... before.”

“Right. Of course.”

He hesitates.

The two of you just escaped prison, and if he’s learnt anything, this is not the kind of galaxy he wants to risk bringing a child into. He’s not even sure if he’ll survive tomorrow.

“What do you want to do then?”

“We could die tomorrow.” You shift in his arms, pulling yourself flush against him until his hardness presses firmly between you. “Fuck it.”

He tilts his head, a slight grin curling on his face. Stars, when you say it like that... With a clench of his jaw, he pulls you down slowly and impales you on his hardness.

His head falls back. You’re fucking tight. A raw, incredulous groan rises from his throat.

Your reaction has his head spinning - fingers winding through his grown-out hair and pulling desperately against him. He loves little hiss you make.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes flutter open to meet his gaze and his seed almost spills, only holding himself back with the barest restraint. Must savour this moment. Finally being inside you - his soulmate.

He pulls you in for a hungry kiss. Heat rises between your bodies as you give yourself over to his touch, opening your mouth into his kiss and arching your back for him.

It’s too much. Unable to stop himself, his hands grip you by your thighs and he fully impales you, forcing your tight, inner channel muscles to give way and let his shaft thrust full inside you.

You brace his shoulders and writhe in pleasure. “Oh, Cassian, please, m-move - ”

That’s all he hears before his instincts take over, and he uses all his strength to thrust, desperate to wedge himself so far inside you he’ll never leave.

He plants his feet on the sea floor and braces you against him as you cant your hips for him. Your bodies are working overtime to create that toe-curling friction, thrusting into each other with bruising force, the waves splashing and breaking over your entwined forms.

Your mouths clash in a tangle of heated, desperate kisses that burn him from within. The tension is pulled taut between you, soulmarks thrumming in time with each other as you desperately unite your bodies as one.

He rocks his hips up between your open legs and hits home harder and harder with each slosh of the water. His hands grip you by the back of your shirt, fingers scrambling against the fabric to pull your body down as hard as he can.

Your head lols back in the water, a gasp escaping your throat. “Cassian! Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop - oh!”

He grunts in approval. His hunger for you grows, seeing you so vulnerable like this for him, desperate to hold out as long as he can to pleasure you. His thrusts grow even more frantic and sloppy - a fast, brutal jerking rhythm of pounding up into your cunt.

“My hope,” he murmurs in Kenari, barely hanging on to his sanity. “Better than anything I’d ever dreamt of.” He drinks in the sight of you, wet and vulnerable and all his, and his hardness gives a heady warning pulse of heat. He groans. “You’re everything. You’re mine.”

You let out a whimper in his arms, and then you’re tensing, your thighs, clenching around him with newfound strength.

“Cassian,” you moan through gritted teeth, “Cassian!”

The first jolt of pleasure wracks through his body without warning. At the realisation that you’re climaxing, he’s had it - he can’t hold back anymore.

He groans in disbelief. His brows draw together, the deep, intense, deliberate jerking of his body against yours faltering as pleasure takes over. A sound comes out of him, a mix between a desperate plea and praise, and then he’s coming inside you.

Fierce, intense waves of heat pulse into your raw, messy, clenching cunt.

His pleasure deepens as you open your legs even farther to receive his spend inside you. With a growl, he pulls you against him and jerks his hips against you once more, finishing himself off.

“Yes,” you moan, leaning forward and pressing your forehead against his. The change in angle shields your face from the starlight, but the sound of your shuddering, desperate pants of breath are clear as day. You’re high on this shared bliss together.

“Don’t want to wake up,” he murmurs against your lips.

“You think I’m a dream?”

He traces up your arm and wraps his hand around the back of your neck. “You’re too good to be real. I’m not that lucky.”

You chuckle. “You are now.”

“We’ll see.”

It isn’t until the next morning, when he opens his eyes to the first rays of sun and you’re still there, asleep in his arms, that he finally allows himself to believe.

#andor bingo #andor #andor smut #andor fanfiction #star wars #star wars smut #star wars fanfiction #cassian andor #cassian andor smut #cassian andor fanfiction #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x you #cassian andor x y/n #soulmates #soulmate trope #soulmate fanfiction #soulmark #soulmarks #soulmark trope #soulmark fanfiction #sil's writing

[jinna-aka-ninja]

Calling of the Souls ~ Poly!LostBoysXFem!Reader Part 6

A/N: I aim to spoil you all. That and I'm not going to lie, the comments fuel me! <3 I love you guys.

Word Count: 3,016

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

David’s hand gripped her hip to keep her still. “You should sit still. I don’t think you want to know what I want to do to you if you rile me up just yet.” The words came out of him so easily. Y/N stiffened as she tried to stay as still as possible in his lap. The other guys had a smirk on their lips except Laddie who seemed to be far too distracted by the sight of the waitress returning with their drinks and his milkshake.

“Oh.. you know if you guys wanted we do have that one booth in the other side of the diner that could seat all of you-...” Sylvia said to them looking amused. “Young love.”

Y/N’s head spun to look behind her and sure enough, in a corner away from sight unless you looked, was a booth that wrapped around a corner of the wall which would have seated 10 people if they truly wanted to. Then she looked back to the guys.

Paul was openly laughing, Marko looked out the window while moving his lips together to hide his own smile. Dwayne was just smiling and shaking his head. Y/N didn’t even want to turn around to look at David’s face which no doubt had been smirking behind her.

“Oh, we totally forgot about that booth. Oh well we are all comfortable now. Isn’t that right Y/N?” Dwayne asked her tilting his head to look over to her.

It was almost like he was daring her to say that she wasn’t comfortable where she had been. The moment she opened her lips to answer though Laddie had unknowingly betrayed her. “I like this one! This is my favorite!”

Instantly her lips closed into a thin line, well as thin as her lips allowed her while she tried not to smile; these boys had managed to trick her into coming to this side so she wouldn’t have seen the other.

Laddie had just been so happy that she wasn’t able to say anything about it. The drinks were placed in front of them and Y/N reached over to get her milkshake. “Thank you Sylvia.” Y/N said to the woman who offered a smile and asked for their food orders.

David had kept Y/N close against him while they waited for their food. Keeping her head pressed against his shoulder with his cheek resting against her head. A content smile on his lips as he listened to the others talk with their little mate.

They had been missing her for more than half of the night missing her, they just had wanted to find her. Of course they had to mess with Michael just a bit before they did start their search. Michael seemed oh so reluctant to admit that he liked spending time with them. He still had sought them out at times but then would always give his attention to Star the moment he saw her. It was such a shame. Truth be told the reason they had tried to change Star was because she seemed to make people want to like her. A valuable trait for a vampire to have because it ensured an easy meal.

“So why Santa Carla?” Dwayne asked her. “This is the kind of place people usually go to disappear. You’re not looking to disappear are you?”

“Of course I’m not looking to disappear. If I was then I wouldn’t have spent time talking to you now would I? No point in meeting people if I’m trying to stay away from them.” Y/N said, but it was a good question.

Paul rested his head on the palm of his hand while looking at her like he was staring at a piece of art. “Where are you from?”

That had been a question that caught her by surprise. Sure it might have been a normal question to ask but it hadn’t been a question that she got before. That might have something to do with the fact that she hadn’t talked to people in a while. Though it had been far too long for her to remember that kind of information; the only thing that Y/N could remember was a river near her home.

“I don’t really know where I’m from? I guess you could say I’m from everywhere.” Y/N said as she bit the inside corner of her cheek making her lips move to one side in a slight pout. Her mind trying to remember which place she had been originally from. “I move a lot. Tyr and I don’t typically stay in one place for too long. It never felt right to set down roots.” Especially since if she stayed too long then she would more than likely be seen as not aging.

“Tyr? That’s your roommate right?” Paul asked her plopping a fry into his mouth. “He’s like your best friend or something?”

“Well you can say that, he kind of saved my life. I’ve been close to him ever since then.” Y/N explained to them. A smile on her lips making them just feel so drawn to her. “He’s almost like a brother to me. When you have been around someone that long, you learn to feel like they are family. I think he thinks of me as a little sister.” Y/N said laughing a bit, not because it was funny, but because it just gave her this warm feeling in her chest that just made her happy.

If she wasn’t so sure that Tyr meeting them would lead to a battle unlike anything she had ever seen before, she would have loved for them to meet.  

It was a relief. They had been worried, even when she had explained to them that they had not stayed in the same room that didn’t mean anything. The fact that she had seen this Tyr person as a brother was a weight off their shoulders.

“How did he save your life?” Dwayne asked her, that was the main part that caught his attention. Though seeing as Y/N shifted her eyes to look away from him as she placed her lips on the straw to her milkshake to take a sip; he could tell that wasn’t a question she wanted to answer, and seeing as she hadn’t told them why she had been running earlier, they wanted to know this one.

“Listen my muse, please, we want to know you.” Marko said to her flashing a smile; every time he listened to the sound of her voice it was like the greatest thing gracing his soul. The guys had only felt these feelings to each other when they had first met one another.

Y/N set her cup down and gave a very small smile, “It was so long ago. I was just a young kid then. It didn’t seem like I was very welcomed in my neighborhood. I think. I don’t really know the details. I just know that someone set my house on fire, or multiple people. All I remember is that Tyr was the one that helped me get out safely and we have been running ever since.” She left out the gory details of her parents passing.

It just didn’t feel like something she had to say. It should be clear considering she was able to run with just Tyr after.

The guys had lived long enough to know that someone who sets houses on fires just felt personal. David pressed a kiss to her temple making her cheeks flush. “Well, we are going to keep you safe from now on. So you don’t have to keep running. This can be your home.” David said to her.

The guys seemed so happy to offer her this place with them, to make her a part of their lives. “I’m..” She wanted to say she was travelling with someone which would make it impossible for her to just settle down without him.

“If Tyr means that much to you then hell he can join too!” Paul chimed in. The others didn’t seem to entirely agree with that sentiment though. It was understandable. Vampires weren’t known to be the most trusting of those they didn’t feel an immediate connection with and they hadn’t even met Tyr.

“That seems like a lot to take in for one night. Can I think on it?” She asked the guys. At this point in her life she had liked to think of herself as an evasive person. She even wanted to evade questions that she wanted to think on more or just didn’t want to answer. With the things that Tyr had told her then this was for the best.

“People who know you too much know your thoughts; know your plans. Don’t let them in.” Tyr had once told her back when they had first met. Looking at the time they knew they would have to leave soon. The sun would start to rise in just two hours.

“You said you lived kinda close to the cave right?” David asked her. “Let us give you a ride there so that you can be closer to home.” As he spoke he took out money from his pocket to set on the table, along with a generous tip for Sylvia. They really did seem to care about that woman. It was sweet.

Dwayne got out and helped Y/N come out so that David could slide out of the booth. Paul and Marko had been saying their goodbyes to Sylvia and wishing her a great morning as they left the diner. Dwayne had kept Y/N close so that she could ride back with him this time. “Are you guys taking turns?” she asked laughing a bit but still she got on the back of his bike, Laddie had gotten on the back of Paul’s bike.

“It’s either we take turns or we end up fighting over who gets to be close to you.” Dwayne explained to her, “You’re real special to us. More than you can imagine.”

But she could imagine, because they were special to her too or she wouldn’t be in this situation, on the back of their bikes and just spending time with them. “You guys are special to me too.” With that they drove back to the cave. It felt like a race to beat the sun. They parked their bikes at the top of the cliff and one by one said goodbye to her.

David kissed the top of her hand, his lips pressing against her knuckles, “Goodnight, Doll.” He said to her and made his way down. Dwayne pressed a kiss to her forehead whispering goodnight. It was strange how Dwayne’s whisper of a goodnight felt like it went through her soul as he backed away and went back down.

Marko went up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and twirling her around in a circle planting a kiss on her cheek. “Goodnight beautiful.” He said setting her back down and rushing after the others with Laddie going in after her.

Paul looked at her, smiling like he seemed to always be doing. He walked up to her, placing his hands on her cheeks to cup her face. “If you ever need to cry?”

“Come to you, or one of the others.” Y/N said to him feeling flushed at the closeness that they had been together. This felt far more intimate than the others way of saying goodnight.

“Good girl, remember that.” Paul said to her and before she could even blink, he leaned down and kissed her lips. “Goodnight.” He said against her lips before going down leaving her standing there stunned by what had just happened.

Y/N stood at the cliffs edge after the guys had gone down. Standing as she watched the sun start to rise for just a while longer. It was not often that she managed to see it. Y/N was more of a night owl, no need for her to stray far away from the sunlight. It actually felt kind of nice, the warmth on her skin. Taking a deep breath of the fresh morning seaside air.

Then the memories of what had happened last night here in this very cave came back to her. It made her feel sick. Y/N turned to walk away so that she could head home to rest when a voice dragged her out of her thoughts. Turning she spotted none other than the Halfling himself.

“Y/N! What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.” Michael spoke to her like she was somewhere she didn’t belong. Though after the time that she had spent with David, Dwayne, Marko and Paul she felt like this might be the very place that she had been searching for her whole life. If anything, this was the place she should be.

It was impossible for her to look him in the eyes, “Not like it is any of your business, but I was spending time with the guys.” She said to him while keeping walking. She just wanted to get away from him as quickly as possible. It didn’t seem like her wish would be granted. Y/N could hear the sound of footsteps following her.

“You’re all the way out here, the sun had just barely started to come up, let me take you home. If you were with them then you must have been up all night.” Michael pled. He had brought his bike over and didn’t think that she would be okay to walk.

“Michael, I’m sure you have to get home soon, if you think that I had a long night then I know that you had more than a long night.. and  I don’t know how to tell you this without sounding harsh, but I don’t want to talk to you again.” She didn’t even stop, at least not until the sound of metal hitting stones could be heard. That made her turn her head to look back at him.

Y/N’s heart thumped seeing Michael walking over to her, not even caring that he basically shoved his own bike out of his way to go over to her. His hands cupping her cheeks as he brought her in for a kiss. It was deep, needy, and desperate. She was shocked, then, she was furious. Pushing him away from herself, or at least trying to. Freaking vampires with their stupid strength! At least he had the common decency to remove his lips from hers when she showed she wanted to distance him from her.

“Michael, what the actual hell was that for!?” She asked him; her hands had been on his chest to stop him from getting close again.

“Don’t say that to me, please.” Michael begged. He sounded broken. This man, this half vampire, believed he had the right to sound broken just because she had said she didn’t want to talk to him anymore? “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

Y/N had been so close to yelling at him when she finally made eye contact with him, “What...” Her hand moved to his chin, turning his head to the left then the right, all the while keeping eye contact. “You idiot.” She hissed at him.

She refused to forgive him for what he had done, he shouldn’t have slept with Star, even then she knew it wasn’t entirely his fault now. “What does she want from you Michael?” The look on his face was enough for her to know he had no idea what she was talking about. Y/N sighed and rolled her eyes, “Star Michael. What did Star want from you?”

“She wants help.” That was all the information that he was going to give her it seemed. She could tell he didn’t want to tell her everything; for a moment Y/N had forgotten that Michael didn’t know that she knew about the vampires.

She continued to look at him, urging him silently to continue with what he was saying; but he kept his lips sealed. “My god Michael I can’t help you if you don’t tell me everything. Please don’t stop being a freaking stubborn ass and just tell me what she wanted from you!”

Y/N was trying so hard to keep herself from yelling at him. She didn’t want to yell at him but she was so frustrated.

Michael swallowed harshly as he kept looking into her eyes. His eyebrows close together while he was deep in thought. Weighing his options on whether he should tell her. “The guys are vampires.”

“I know.” Y/N said to him when he didn’t finish, again.

“You know? How could you know? Did they tell you? Did they try to feed on you? Did you drink from the bottle?” Each question had Michael feeling more and more angry with each passing second.

“I’m not a half vampire. I just want you to tell me the truth right now Michael. I’m not going to ask again.”  At this moment it had felt like her soulmate had been created with the sole purpose on testing her patience.

“She... doesn’t want to be a vampire. She wants to stop it from happening and wants me to help stop the others.” Michael said to her now finally releasing his hold on her face and stepping back. “She doesn’t want this kind of life. I don’t either. I have a family I need to be there for.”

A frown formed on her face. Y/N thought this through silently for a moment. Michael studied her face to see what she would say. This was crazy though. Y/N didn’t know what was going through Star’s mind. Was it possible that she, herself didn’t know the truth? Possibly..

“But she’s not even a vampire..” Y/N groaned. Michael’s eyes widened as he looked at Y/N. He had seen what Star was capable of, how she got into his brothers room in an instant. If she wasn’t a vampire, then what was she? And how did Y/N know? “She doesn’t even know she’s not a vampire!”

#the lost boys 1987 #marko lost boys #david lost boys #dwayne lost boys #fem!reader #paul lost boys #poly!lost boys x reader #lost boys marko x reader #michael lost boys #lost boys dwayne x reader #tlb x reader #tlb 1987 #soulmate trope #lost boys david x reader #paul x reader lost boys

[neptune-scythe]

soulmates trope is old it's overused it's boring

may I present soulmates doomed by the narrative

soulmates who are the only right person for each other but it's never the right time

soulmates who were made for each other but one or both experienced some life altering trauma that fundamentally changed who they are as a person and makes them incompatible or unable to be happy with their soulmate as a result

soulmates who love each other but their feelings aren't enough to keep them happy together

#and if i say kanej what then #i am a kanej breakup truther i will not lie #they will never be happy together #but they will always love each other #it will be so tragic #so angst #much good #grishaverse #six of crows #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #dirtyhands #the bastard of the barrel #the wraith #kanej #kaz x inej #kaz and inej #soulmates #soulmate trope

[haphira]

That’s Just Like... Soulmates? By: Haphira

for: @rierse - lbcs secret admire event 2024

Our blueberries loves soulmate stories- they know all the tropes. But everyone knows they aren't real, right?

Everyone knew that there was no such thing as soulmates, but Luka thought the closest one got was probably his sister and her girlfriend Rose. If you asked Luka, they were the perfect match, the right combination of sweet and dark. Luka never thought that he would run into someone that fit so well with him that it seemed like the Universe was sending blaring signs that this person and him were meant to be together, but after a few times of running into this woman, and the strange occurrences, Luka was starting to question. 

It started on a regular day delivering pizza on his bike when he passed by a stunning beauty walking around the Trocadero, she was wearing a long deep red scarf, a stylist coat, carrying a sketch book. Her dark hair and bluebell eyes shined in the fall sunlight. Music was faintly playing in his head; he would need to write it down later. 

Luka could admit that he was distracted, so when he passed by her, he didn’t know that his bike had snagged the end of her beautiful long red scarf. So when he heard the shriek of surprise and dread he slowed down, it wasn’t until the pounding of feet on concrete did he turn around to see that beautiful woman was running straight for him, so he stopped and that’s when he notice the red string caught on his bike that traveled a ways back to the woman holding the remains of her red scarf tightly. Instantly he got off his bike to detangle the red string.  

The dark-haired woman caught up panting, “You...bike, got...my scarf!” She panted out, and Luka could only apologize.  

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t notice that my bike had caught your scarf,” Luka said, handing the red string back to her.  

“I-” the woman let out a weary sigh, “Thanks,” she said accepting the string back and started to wound up the loose yarn.  

“I truly am sorry,” Luka continued.  

“It’s alright, just my bad luck coming into play,” The woman waved a red gloved hand that matched the now unraveled scarf.  

Luka still felt bad, “Where did you get it?” he asked, hoping he could replace that one that had unraveled. 

“I made it,” She replied. Well, there went that plan. Glancing at his watch, Luka realized he was starting to run late and cursed.  

“Listen, I'm really sorry and I'd like to make it up to you, but I have to get going or I’ll be late,” Luka pulled out a business card from his pocket, “Here, contact me if you can think up something to replace the scarf, whether that is coffee, a sketch book or whatever, just, let me know.”  Luka shoved the card into her hands then hopped onto his bike and road off. Not realizing he left a bewildered beautiful woman behind, staring at him then the card in her hand. 

The next time they ran into each other, the following week later, was at a concert by Jagged Stone, he was playing in Paris for a few nights before leaving on tour. Luka was really excited to go see one of his favorite artists, an artist that always inspired him, in person.  

Luka had splurged a bit and got a VIP ticket for the show; a chance to talk and take pictures with Jagged himself. After the bouncer stamped his hand, on the meat between his first finger and thumb, the bouncer smearing the stamp on the corner, then he looked around the room and spotted the woman with the red scarf again.  

Luka couldn't help but smile, it felt like the Universe was giving him another chance. Walking over to her Luka tapped the woman’s shoulder and said hello. 

The woman whirled around to face him, pins in her mouth as she was fixing a tear in a shirt on a mannequin. Her blue eyes got larger in recognition. She took the pins out of her mouth and set them into her wrist pincushion.  

“It’s you, from Kitty Section, right?” the woman asked, eyes sparkling. 

“Yeah, I’m Luka, the lead guitarist, I’m still really sorry about your scarf.”  

The woman laughing lightly, Luka could write symphonies about her laugh, “I looked over your card and found your band, you guys have amazing music!” She gushed, a large smile on her lips. 

“Thank you, uh...” 

“Marinette.” she replied. 

“Thank you, Marinette.”  

“I tried to contact you but there was no contact info on the card, just the band name and where to find you online in the music store.” Luka realized he gave her the prototype of the card that he and Juleka were making.  

“Oh shoot, here,” Luka dug out another card, this time with the band contact info on it. Marinette giggled and Luka blushed. Offering her the card and glancing down Luka noticed that Marinette had the same stamp on her hand in the same place as his, even with the slightly smudged corner.  

“Huh, that almost looks like a soulmate mark.” Luka said absently, Marinette looked up from their hands in surprise. 

“Oh! I was thinking the same thing! A friend of mine recently got me into this soulmate romance book series she highly recommends.”  

“Yeah? My sister’s girlfriend is obsessed with anything romantic, and soulmates fall into that.” Luka replied.  

They talked a little longer before Luka asked her to coffee next week, which Marinette said yes to, then Jagged made his extra loud entrance. Marinette shook her head fondly at Jagged and Luka couldn’t help but steal glances at her all night, music continued to play in his head, but he could wait until later to write it down, but right now, he couldn’t wait to get coffee with her.  

The third time it happened, Luka started to get suspicious. Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern.  

At their meet up, at a coffee shop in town near a fantastic bakery, Luka walks up to the meeting spot looking at his watch, watching the seconds tick down to 4 o’clock PM. He reaches the entrance at exactly 4 on the dot and bumps into someone, hearing an alarm go off. Looking away from his watch he realizes he bumped into the person he was trying to meet.  

Marinette looked up at the same time as he did, hearing the alarm go off on her phone. 4 PM exactly and running into the person she was rushing to meet.  

Luka and Marinette stare at each other for a moment.  

“Wow, you look amazing.”   

They blinked at each other again realizing they said the same thing at the same time. Giggling, Marinette tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and gestured to the door. 

“Do you want to go in?”  

Luka nodded and opened the door for her as they entered. They order their coffee and find a comfortable spot to sit.  

“So, that was weird, right?” Luka asked, thinking over the times they bumped into each other, a pattern was forming. 

“The ‘saying the same thing at the same time’ thing? Yeah, a bit weird.” Marinette conceded. She sipped on her coffee and looked Luka over again.  

“It’s just, I was also looking at my watch, and it hit 4 PM exactly when we bumped into each other.” Marinette nodded, listening intently to him. 

“Kind of like a countdown clock to when you meet your soulmate.” Luka paused, hoping he wasn’t going to scare her off. Thankfully Marinette just looked interested. 

“And, there have been other cases too.” Luka continued, staring down at his coffee with a frown. It was weird right? Hitting all these soulmate troupes that Rose always talked about.  

“I know there is no such thing as soulmates but...” Luka trailed off, he wasn’t sure if talking about this was a good idea on a first date, if this was a date.  

“...It feels kinda like the Universe is waving a flag in our faces?” Marinette concluded.  

“Yeah,” Luka agreed, thankful that she wasn’t put off by talking about soulmates. Like they were a real thing.  

Marinette laughed, “I was thinking the same thing! Like my scarf being a red string of fate tying us together.” Luka looked back up with a soft gaze. 

“And the matching VIP stamps like soulmate tattoos.” Luka added. Marinette laughed again, nodding her head quickly. 

“Yes! Lots of different soulmate troupes seem to be happening with us.”  

Luka nodded thoughtfully. It was like a lot of different soulmate troupes, and if Luka believed there was such a thing, which he was kind of starting to, then it seemed like Marinette was his soulmate.  

“Would you like this to be a date?” Luka asked, Marinette’s eyes went wide, oh no, that didn’t seem good. Did he push her too quickly? 

“I was under the impression this was a date?” Marinette cocked her head to the side, Luka blushed. 

“Well, yes? When I asked you to coffee it was more to make up for your scarf, but I didn’t want to pressure you or anything.” Marinette smiled at his response.  

“No pressure, but thank you for giving the option, you don’t know how much I appreciate that.” Marinette said. She took a sip of her coffee before looking up at Luka again. Luka felt trapped by her beautiful blue eyes.  

He watched her lips move again, but he heard no sound over the pounding of his heart. Music seemed to be singing to him now, for the first time that day Luka wished he had his guitar.  

“Luka?” Marinette called Luka snapped out of it and the music faded to the background.  

“You are an extraordinary girl, Marinette. Clear as a music note, sincere as a melody. You’re the song that’s been playing in my head since we first met.” Luka reached out a hand to place lightly on top of hers. Marinette blushed and shyly looked up at him through her lashes. Oh, the music he could write about her eyes... 

“I hope we can go on another date, maybe Wednesday?” Luka asked her, gaze imploring. 

“Yes, I would like that very much.” She responded, smiling into her cup as she took another sip. They smiled at each other and continued to talk for the next serval hours.  

Their next date would last the entire day, neither wanted to go home and at that point Luka was certain, if soulmates existed then he met his. Marinette was everything and more than he could have ever hoped for. When he told Juleka and Rose they laughed at him, until he started explaining all the events that occurred every time they met. Rose, not surprisingly, busts out in squeals of laughter and happiness. Then later when Luka introduces Marinette to Juleka and Rose, Rose screams about destiny and fate. Apparently, Rose and Marinette knew each other, and it was Rose who recommended to Marinette the book series on soulmate romances. Small world or ties of destiny, Luka wasn’t sure, he was just happy holding Marinette during movie night with Rose and Juleka. And the rest... well the Universe was happy that all their hard work finally got the blueberries they loved together.  

#lbsc secret admirer valentines event 2024 #Lbscsecretadmirer2024 #pro lukanette #pro lukamari #miraculous fandom #miraculous ladybug #lukanette #a03 fic #lukanette endgame #endgame lukanette #ao3 #soulmate au #soulmate trope

[theshadowrealmitself]

Reading soulmate fics and every now and then there’ll be one where one of the characters is like “I can’t be your soulmate…not after what happened to me…I can’t be anyone’s soulmate anymore…” which is not true since y’know that’s not how soulmates work

But can you imagine how heartbreaking it would be in some “soulmates universe” where it’s not actually soulmates it’s just “who is the most compatible person for you at this moment” ???

You spend your whole life with your next door neighbor/best friend’s name on your wrist, one day you decide you want to go to college out of town and when you look down there’s now a name you don’t recognize

You’re on a date with your soulmate and they make eye contact with someone across the room and they’re frozen on the spot, you don’t even know what that other person looks like because everything else except the feeling of your heart breaking falls away as you see in real time your name being replaced on your partner’s wrist

People changing their entire selves to get a specific name on their wrist because it’s something that can be done in that universe, etc etc etc

#it’d be fucked up for sure #no fandom #soulmate trope #‘soulmate’ trope

[noahhawthorneauthor]

I feel like I know you...

#noahs book recs #soulmate trope #forgotten memories #queer books #indie books #indie author #the darkness outside us #the sunderlands #phantom and rook #ruin of kings #fantasy books #book recommendations

[marcobodtlives]

Y’know for that good ol’ classic soulmate AU where the last words of your soulmate are transcribed on your body:

Jean would have “we haven’t even had a chance to talk this through,” and I think about that a lot.

More under the cut 🥹

The truth is, Jean has two theories.

First, he suspects his soulmate could be murdered during an argument. He hates that line of thinking, so he doesn’t overthink it. There’s no way he would ever hurt Marco during a fight, so he doesn’t trust that theory.

He unconsciously never ends a conversation first, lets Marco speak about whatever he wants for as long as he wants, just in case. Because another tiny, dark piece of him worries that maybe one day something will happen, they’ll argue, yes, but he’ll leave during an argument, and Marco’s last words will be to him. About him leaving.

When Trost happens, he’s relieved, because there’s no way Marco’s last words will be about ‘talking it through’ with a titan, right? So, he’s going to be fine. Marco’s the seventh best soldier of the 104th. He’s a nerd, he knows titan’s don’t speak or think, so there’s no way his last words will be pleas to a titan.

Then Trost really happens.

And Jean is left wondering if maybe Marco had been so desperate that he’d try to talk to a titan in his final moments.

Then he rationalises it. Thinks of Armin’s theory about the armoured and the colossal…

When the female titan appears, both Erwin and Armin are certain that the shifter has to be a soldier, a cadet, even.

And the little words on Jean’s skin the ones that taunt him at night start to make more sense. And he’s furious.

(No, we wont be talking about the possibility that Jean didn’t know Marco was his soulmate until he asks Reiner and Annie what his final words were at the campfire. No I refuse.)

#my loose thoughts #jeanmarco #i love soulmate aus #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #marco bodt #jean kirschtein #or if you wanna be funky: #jean kirstein #marco bott #my writing #drabble #kinda #just brain leak really #soulmate au #soulmate trope

[sunflowersandforgetmenots]

Congratulations on your engagement!! I was thinking that Kassandra and 8 would be an interesting fic :) Don’t feel like you have to write one though if it doesn’t float your boat!

Thank you so much! I'm very excited! I might post updates on how things are going when we get further in the engagement! Also CONGRATS ON BEING MY FIRST ASK BACK LET'S GOOOOOOO!!!

Summary: In a world where the gods blessed mortals with the ability to find their soulmates through matching wounds and scars, Kassandra has always felt immense guilt for her bloody job.

Pairing: Kassandra x Reader

Genre: Soulmate; No Smut

Potential TW: Blood, wounds, scarring, intentional scarring of a soulmate

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Kassandra never noticed the small cuts and bruises on her body. She was a mercenary, a life of injuries great and small was something she would always be used to. So when papercuts and bruises on the hips and shins appeared, she never took notice, never really wondered which ones were from her soulmate. Some who asked found that selfish, that she never worried over which of the injuries weren’t hers, that her soulmate was out there in pain and she had little care. 

But they never saw the big picture. 

Kassandra never cared about which ones were her soulmate’s, not because she was selfish, but because she hated that every injury that was hers appeared on whoever was her destined. Did she lie awake scared some nights, worried that the medium sized wound in her leg was actually much larger on Kassandra? Did she trace her fingers over scars that branded Kassandra, hating that they marred her skin just as much? It made her ache, deep in her soul, that she was causing pain and injury. Yet she couldn’t stop. Fighting was in her bones, carried over from the darkness of that spartan night on the mountain. It was her living. She had lives to support. Surely, hopefully, because her soulmate’s wounds never hurt her when they appeared, her own simply marked the skin, never harming the softness that she was surely destroying. 

Then, she learned the truth. In the market, a hot summer evening on the docks of Kephallonia, Kassandra watched as a woman bent in half, screaming in pain as her soulmate carved his name over and over into her arm. It wasn’t uncommon, branding your own skin with marks to ensure that you would find each other, but most people just do a small scar. A burn somewhere. A scar through the eyebrow. Something lasting that wouldn’t hurt much, but be noticable. Later, the woman praised the gods for her husband’s foresight, but the image of that woman, terrified and crying out in pain as the blood dripped down her arm onto the wooden docks stayed with Kassandra, haunting her nights and her mornings.

Now, the worries became nightmares. A woman, beautiful as the morning sun, gentle as the midnight moon, screaming and sobbing in pain as a spear wound appeared in her side. Claw marks raking down her face. Her eye bleeding as Kassandra’s own was impaled. Such extremes would never happen, the mercenary tried to remind herself, the gods had made it so your destined would never suffer that much from the injuries you face. And still, the dreams would haunt her. 

So she learned. Dodging became her speciality, arrows barely grazed her now, she could catch thrown spears with ease. Eventually, the wounds on her body became more bruises, something she came to live with, though Kassandra desired not a single spot on her future love’s body, no more. Now, their lives could be spent without pain, and only laughter and passion. 

Then, one night on the Adrestia as they sailed past Athens, Kassandra was woken up with a tearing pain across her upper left bicep, trailing down to her wrist in a slow, meticulous motion. She sat up with a startled cry, half expecting some wild creature set upon her by a rival or the Cult to be attacking her. A dagger flashes in the moonlight, swinging wildly for a second only to be met with air and the silence of the sea night. Barnabas wakes with her, shouting in response for the rest of the crew. Only a few stir, used to the nightmares of their crewmates after what they’ve seen after following her across the Greek world. 

“Barnabas? There’s nothing…” She pants, her hair messy from her restless sleep. 

“Aye, there’s nothing Captain.” Her first mate says, rising to his feet to come to her aide. “You were the one who woke me up- By the Gods! Your arm!” 

She looks down, eyes widening as her arm shone with blood, dark and messy in a way that she’s used to after a fight with a wild beast. And then the pain hits her. It’s nothing she’s not used to, but the absence of any attacker aboard her ships grounds her in a reality more painful than most anything she’s ever experienced. 

“No… this isn’t my injury to bear.” Kassandra croaks out, voice hoarse. “She’s been hurt.” And verbalizing that, even to a silent, concerned Barnabas and barely awake Herodotos, is easily the hardest thing she’s ever had to do.

—------------------------------------

It was months later that Kassandra finally realized what happened to her soulmate that fateful night. It had taken Barnabas a week to convince Kassandra that searching every town in Greece would take much longer than they had time for and that her soulmate wasn’t dead because of the bruises and calluses on her fingers left by a weaver’s work. So, she just kept an eye out for any woman with the same deep scars tracing down the muscle of her arm. 

And she found her. 

A beautiful maiden, laughing with a customer at her simple booth in an Argos market, a laugh that Kassandra could swear she’s heard in her dreams, and she had the same scar carving into her skin. Left bicep, all the way down her wrist. A part of her felt pain over it. The real thing, right there, something that caused someone so lovely so much pain, was the only reason she knew it was her. 

The maiden turned, ready to greet Kassandra as a new customer, then stopped, staring at her face with a very clear look of awe. Before she could stop herself, Kassandra reached out, touching the very end of the jagged mark. 

“Tell me… I’ve wondered so long, how did you come to bear this pain?” 

At first, the woman who Kassandra loved before this day looked embarrassed, then, recognition. Her own eyes trailed over the mercenary’s left arm, shock and relief gathering in dazzling eyes as she matches their scar together. 

“You’ll be so infuriated with me.” She mumbled. Kassandra nearly burst into laughter. She had caused her so much pain before, such a scare would never make her angry. Not if it came from her. “But I tripped down a hill.”

The laugh that Kassandra was holding back ripped out of her. What a woman.

#Soulmate trope #Kassandra x reader #kassandra of sparta x reader #x reader #My Writing #Kassandra #Kassandra of Sparta

[anitalenia]

━━━ .°˖✧ soulmate au ⋆˙⊹

꒰ঌ definition ໒꒱ 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑡ℎ, 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑦, 𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙 𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ below you will find sub genres under this category, as well as some useful pairings for this trope. for educational writing purposes <3

note: several of these can also be used in other tropes as well, just depends on how you write it and interpret it.

╰₊✧ ﾟOTHER LINKS . ྀི ⊹ masterlist | romance tropes |

taglist | prompt list | symbol packs | dividers page

꒰ঌ group one ໒꒱

soulbond | red threat of fate | soulmate marks | alternate universe | mating / mates | soulmates who share each others dreams | soulmates who share injuries | the name of their soulmate tattooed on them

꒰ঌ group two ໒꒱

worlds colorless until you meet your soulmate | your birthmark or tattoo matches your soulmates | watch / time ticks down until you meet your soulmate / you’re given a certain amount of time at birth | can’t be physically too far from your soulmate or it hurts you soulmates on opposing side of war

꒰ঌ group three ໒꒱

the simple one where you feel a spark / sensation when you touch your soulmate | there’s a handprint on your body where your soul mate first touches you | your soulmates voice is in your head | when you sleep your dreams are what your soul mate is seeing in their real time / their pov

꒰ঌ group four ໒꒱

you form a telepathic link with your soulmate until you find them | you share a strong physical link where you can feel the same things the other person is feeling while they’re going through them / the sensation of something cold, burning, sex

꒰ঌ group five ໒꒱

the closer you get to them the easier it is to find them / colors get brighter and brighter as you approach, their voice closes in, their thoughts louder / more frequent | once you hit a certain age / one night a year you swap bodies with your soulmate to find as many clues as you can as to where they are (girllll I’d just book a flight to my body)

꒰ঌ group six ໒꒱

being next to your soulmate heals you from things you otherwise wouldn’t heal from | only your soulmate can kill you | two immortal beings searching for each other / immortal soul mates that become human once they get together to live a mortal life together

꒰ঌ group seven ໒꒱

human soulmates that live immortal lives once they find their soulmates so they can live forever together / once they hit a certain age | you grow up with your soulmate and at a certain age there’s a ceremony that finalizes it / you spend those early years learning about the other person and falling in love with them

꒰ঌ group eight ໒꒱

your soulmate is the other half of your magic / your soulmates and yours magic is compatible and mixed with your magic is stronger than ever | you keep being reincarnated until you meet your soulmate / once you do you remember all your past lives together with your soulmate

꒰ঌ group nine ໒꒱

soulmate who has trauma involving the touch of another person so they can’t touch people | soulmate who is deaf so the other must learn sign language | a celebrity who has fans always claiming to be their soulmate / celebrity can never find their soul mate and goes on a search

꒰ঌ group ten ໒꒱

soulmates who live right down the road from each other and always JUST miss each other at grocery stores, parties, drive past each other a lot | soulmates who live on the opposite ends of the earth / when one is asleep the other is awake

꒰ঌ group eleven ໒꒱

your soulmate unlocks your magic / makes you more powerful | one soulmate is blind and can’t see the colors of the world anyway | you choose from a group of people who your soul mate should be after a series of tests / learning about and falling in love with them (almost like the bachelor )

꒰ঌ group twelve ໒꒱

soulmate who is terminally ill | soulmate is in a coma and always has visions of what their soulmate is doing | an immortal soulmate who constantly goes through mortal soulmates because they keep dying

꒰ঌ group thirteen ໒꒱

an immortal soulmate who has lived centuries, eons even, alone and searching for their soulmate | a soulmate with different beliefs / religion from their soulmate and must overcome those differences | one soulmate is asexual

꒰ঌ group fourteen ໒꒱

hopeless romantic soulmate very gullible to people lying about being their soulmate | childhood best friends have kids at the same time, and their kids are soulmates | soulmate who must wait for their soulmate to be born / grow up before they can get together

꒰ঌ group fifteen ໒꒱

soulmates who stop aging at the same time until they meet their soulmate, then once they meet their lives resume | your other eye is the color of your soulmates (your soul mate as brown eyes, you have blue. one of their eyes is blue and one of yours is brown)

꒰ঌ group sixteen ໒꒱

your soulmate is your boss / you were a lowly worker | any alpha & omega mating stories (can be a whole different page) | your soulmate always has your favorite song in their head | you subconsciously hate / love foods / activities your soul mate does

꒰ঌ group seventeen ໒꒱

soulmates separated by war / write letters to each other and don’t get together until they’re very old | childhood soulmates separated as kids reacquainted as adults | you can write to your soulmate as they’ll receive it no matter where they are (writing on paper, the letter will appear to them)

꒰ঌ group eighteen ໒꒱

writing on your skin and your soulmate sees it | you’re an artist, and your soulmate always has doodles all over themselves that you do to yourself | your soulmate is allergic to animals and always finds themselves sneezing throughout the day / you basically run a petting zoo

꒰ঌ group nineteen ໒꒱

your soulmate is a criminal and you’ve been trying to lock them up for years | your soulmate is someone evil and your family isolates you from them to protect you / your soulmate has never stopped trying to find you

꒰ঌ group twenty ໒꒱

you don’t believe in soulmates until you meet yours | you can choose your own soulmate and have a ceremony to officiate it whenever you two want | you run a cupids business to help soulmates meet each other but you haven’t found yours yet

꒰ঌ group twenty one ໒꒱

soulmate is an ethereal being whose been watching over you your whole life to protect you / guide you | universe where soulmates are very very rare / thought to be extinct but you find yours somehow and don’t know what it means your

꒰ঌ group twenty two ໒꒱

soulmate is a powerful being who knows you’re their soulmate, but they know they can’t act on it until you do / you’re a mortal and soulmates are all about divine timing so the powerful being can’t rush it sooner than it’s supposed to be done

꒰ঌ group twenty three ໒꒱

soulmate is an evil being and upon meeting you they turn good | soulmate AU with multiple soulmates at once and you all struggle to adjust to mundane living with 3+ people at once | soulmate is someone you used to bully / vice versa

very helpful soulmate trope link I found by @thegeminisage | took a lot of inspo from them

will update when I think of new ones. hope this helps if you’re not sure what story to tell but you want something new <3

#pink themes #aesthetic #pink #pinkcore #pink dividers #cute #sparkles #stars #writing prompt #writing help #soulmate au #romance tropes #fanfic tropes #fanfic help #fanfiction help #soulmates #soulmate trope au #soulmate trope #red thread of fate #writing tips #writing tips and tricks #fanfic tips #writing romance

[jinna-aka-ninja]

Home Invasion

It was a nice gated suburban neighborhood. The kind of place that the moment you stepped into it you just felt safe. There was a guard at the gate who had always given Y/N and her family a smile when they drove back in from an excursion to Santa Carla.

How could anyone feel like they weren’t safe?

Y/N laid face down on her bed, her arms beneath her pillow. It was a great afternoon at the boardwalk. It was Y/N’s last week in Santa Carla before she went off to college across the country so her parents had been trying to spoil her at the boardwalk to tempt her to coming back for the holidays. They had wanted her to go to college somewhere closer but no, she had her heart set on a certain university and she was not going to be swayed.

Her eyes closed letting herself drift into sleep.

The sound of glass shattering had stirred her from her dreams. Y/N groggily sat up in bed and put on her slippers before going to the door, pausing as she heard the sound of her mother crying loudly and her father trying to calm her.

“My god, will you shut up?” David groaned from under his balaclava mask, all of them had wearing similar ones; despite Marko having wanted to customize the masks that they wore.

Dwayne thankfully had the common sense to tell him that if they did customize the masks then it would give them more reason to search for certain things. If they had no idea what they were looking for then it would be easier. Though.. it wasn’t like these people would live long enough to remember what their masks looked like.

Even their security cameras weren’t going to catch anything. They had flown in through the second floor where not a single cctv had been placed. It wasn’t their fault that they never expected that anyone would literally fly in through an open window. The bottom floors had cameras but not in the inside.

Just because Max was their sire didn’t mean that he was willing to give a share of his wealth. So as an act of rebellion the boys decided, why not rob Max’s neighbour and murder them? It would have him on edge and it was just delightful to think about.

The thing was... they failed to mention they had a daughter. Just old enough they didn’t have to feel bad about using as a meal. It was a home invasion gone... bloody.

Really they hadn’t even realized another person in the home until there was a shift in the floorboards.

“Anyone else you need to warn us about?” Marko asked, his voice coming out as a damn near giggle of excitement.

“It’s our cat-...” Y/N’s mother tried to say through her cries.

Paul let out a whistle, “Must be one fat cat if its loud enough to make the floors creak.”

“The fuck...” The voice came as a whisper but the offended tone was clear. Dwayne looked up to the staircase.

“Your cat talks.” Dwayne mused as he looked to the two who were tied down on the floor.

“Please....” Y/N’s father begged. “She’s just a kid.”

Marko bounded his way up the stairs. The woman screaming for him to stop, the man trying to get up to run after Marko only to have David place his boot on his back and push him back down. “You lied to us. Let our friend go and get her. Can’t have her missing out on the fun.”

Y/N knew her mistake when it had slipped from her lips. She ran to her closet, grabbing the curtain rod and pulling it off. Holding it up like a baseball bat to use as a weapon. The moment the door opened, she swung.

It was quick, she never had a chance. Marko grabbed the metal pole while laughing as he pulled her closer to him, “Oh you’re going to be-...” the words seemed to slip from him as he looked into her eyes. “Fun..” He finished when they came back. “Shit.”

The others downstairs froze in place. The moment Marko made the connection they all felt it. Eyes snapping to the staircase as their minds reeled on what to do.

Do they kill her parents and take their newfound mate and force her to love them? Or do they back down and try to win her over the old fashioned way?

“Please, you can take anything you want. I’ll give you the combo for the safe, just let my parents go, okay?” Y/N begged Marko feeling tears fill her eyes. Marko lifted his gloved hand to brush the tears that fell down her cheek.

“Your eyes are so pretty when you cry.” Marko whispered.

#the lost boys 1987 #marko lost boys #david lost boys #dwayne lost boys #fem!reader #poly!lost boys x reader #soulmate trope #tlb x reader #paul lost boys

[four-raccoons-in-a-trenchcoat]

what if there was a soulmate au where people had some sort of special song in their heart and their soulmate/s would have that same song in their heart and when they sing their song they'll just have a moment of recognition upon meeting each other like "oh shit that's the earworm i've had stuck in my brain for the past fifteen years"

#writing prompt #soulmate trope #soulmate au #soulmate prompts #writing ideas