#got yourself a soulmate at the thrift store! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

roger-that-cap · 4 years ago

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brand new eyes

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: having a penpal in the sixth grade was overdone, in your opinion. and handwritten letters just weren’t convenient. you weren’t happy at all to start talking to some random girl your age across the sea, but once you started, neither of you could find it in you to stop.

warnings: fluff!!!! mutual pining. badly written letters (actually the whole one shot). brief battle with sexuality. a seriously strong connection between two characters (almost soulmate territory here tbh). every single mistake here is 100% mine!

word count: 8.7k!

At first, you were sure that the pen pal letter suggestion for extra credit was stupid. Why would you handwrite a letter when you could send an email? Why would you send a letter by mail that would take much longer? It took two weeks for a handwritten letter to arrive, and only seconds for an email. It didn’t make any sense.

And then you got your first letter.

You realized very quickly why handwriting was what your teachers asked for. You never knew that handwriting could be so vulnerable, so open. You had never seen letters that were so loopy, so delicate. That letter was written so neatly and so personally even if the girl who had written it hadn’t meant it to be that way, and you knew that a computer even with all of its special fonts wouldn’t be able to do that.

You understood why the handwritten rule was there.

But you didn’t like it when it was your turn to craft something so beautiful.

It wasn’t a competition by any means, but you didn’t want your letter to look anything like the words you scratched down into your notebooks. You wanted them to be neat and pretty and most of all understandable for the girl behind the pen and across the sea, because she had done the same for you.

By the time you stopped ogling over the letters and started actually reading the words that the girl had written, you learned her name. You learned it within the first line, actually.

Wanda Maximoff.

She was obviously from Sokovia, she spoke English as her second language, and she had an older twin brother that she both adored and was annoyed by. She was in the equivalent of your grade in her country, and she liked to cook with her parents. The letter was basic and slightly elementary, just an introduction to what she was willing to share with a stranger that lived thousands of miles away.

But that didn’t make it any less special.

You started on your return letter minutes after you let her pretty words sink in.

You drafted your letter and let it sit for an hour without you looking at it, and then came back to it only to cross things out and revise it, and then put it on the expensive paper that your mother had bought for you. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours. It started with a greeting, your name, and then into the same sort of things that she spoke about in her own letter, the things that people that went to school with you had learned in passing over the years.

It felt like giving someone the rundown of your uneventful life so far in the simplest of ways. It felt like someone getting to know you as you wanted them to, because you were telling your story. There was no other side, or truth, or lie, just what your pen and your brain decided to write. It was controlled chaos. And you adored it.

Your print was easy to read. It wasn’t loopy like hers or as “girlish”, as one of your classmates said when you brought both letters to school to get an extra one hundred. It wasn’t fancy and alluring like hers, but there was still something magical on the pseudo-aged parchment.

You sent it off to the post office the next day, and you put her letter on your desk.

§§§

By the time that your third letter from her came, you already were drafting your own. It came straight to your mailbox and when you checked the mail that morning, you were ecstatic to see it waiting for you, like a pet waiting for it’s person to come home. As usual, it started off with the gentle scrawl of your name, just a bit larger than all of the rest of the words that were on the page.

I can’t believe that it’s already been weeks of us writing. We started in August, and it’s nearing the end of October. Speaking of, is it starting to get cold there for you? It’s already cold for us. Our grandmother always makes us the best tea and soup when it gets cold outside, and I could send you the recipe if you wanted!

My brother and I are curious about one thing, and we hope that we get your answer in time, but, is Halloween really a thing? We have both heard of it, but we’ve never done it here. It sounds magical. I’ve always wanted to dress up however I wanted and get candy for it. If I were to do it, I would probably be a Disney Princess, maybe Merida. Sadly, we don’t do that here. Does it really happen in the United States, or is that a movie thing?

Hopefully you don’t mind my questions much, or my short letter. Pietro likes to read over my shoulder while I write and receive the letters, and I like to write at the kitchen table. There’s no escaping him. You’ve never talked about siblings, do you have them?

The rest of the letter was like that, aloof yet curious and bouncing around all the same, and then signed with her always rushed conclusion, which was nearly the same every time.

You read it and put the letter in the box that you had bought from a thrift store, a box just big enough for the size of the neatly folded and tied off letters that she gave you. You clipped the box shut and put it back under your desk, and then started working on your response.

Instead of just a letter, you sent her a letter in a small box that had the candy that you had gotten on Halloween night, and the mask that went with the rest of your costume. It wasn’t the Disney Princess that Wanda wanted to dress up as, but it was something. It was your something.

§§§

As the December portion of your letter writing, you and your penpal were supposed to learn of the other’s traditions during the Holidays, whether you or them celebrated or not. A huge slide show about the culture of your Sokovian friend was supposed to be shown, and you knew that there would be a lot of the same PowerPoints, a lot of the same pictures and sayings and explanations. You wanted something different. You also had no idea if Wanda did Christmas, but you had to ask.

Wanda,

I’m sure that you know that our assignment now is to present a slide show about what our penpal does during the Holiday season, but because I don’t know whether you celebrate Diwali or Christmas or Hanukkah, I’ll start with asking you about New Years, because I’ve never met a person who didn’t celebrate New Years.

What do you do on New Years Eve? I’ll start by telling you that I watch the ball drop with my family, eat food, and drink cider after it hits midnight. It’s a big deal here for us, because the new year is a time for self revolution, apparently. I’ve never done a New Years resolution, but maybe I’ll do one this year. Have you ever done one?

I know that food is very big over in Sokovia, so what kind of food do you traditionally have when you’re celebrating? Do you like it? Can you cook it yourself? Because I know that you have the same questions for me that you have to put in before you leave for Winter Break, I’ll answer my own questions.

And you did. You were thorough, partly because you thought that it was kind of you to do so because she should get a good grade, and also because she had written that she was thankful for your descriptions on multiple occasions. You had noticed that she was the more whimsical writer and that you came off as the more grounded one, and it intrigued you.

You wondered if you two would come off that way in person to other people, if you ever got the chance to meet.

When her letter came two weeks later, wrapped in aged string as always, you skipped to your bedroom, already pulling the box out from under the table and starting to read it. You smiled through the whole thing.

In her own way, not as precise or even in order as you, she had told you everything you needed to do a good slide show about Sokovia during the Holidays.

§§§

You were emotional at the end of the year. Not because you were leaving the sixth grade and going to a new building in the school and leaving behind your kind teachers, but because the pen pal assignment was over.

No other assignment had been so important to you, or eye opening. You were only twelve years old, but you were old enough to know that you had never found a friend like you had in Wanda, who was still thousands of miles away. No one else, not even the people that stood feet apart from you, offered you friendship like Wanda Maximoff did.

You couldn’t stop writing to her.

It was your turn to send a letter, the final letter that you were supposed to send, and then her closing letter was supposed to come two weeks later. You couldn’t just close it. Your entire mind was screaming at you to not close the book that you had hardly started yet.

So, as your pen rested on the parchment paper (without drafting first), you lifted it up, and changed your mentality from a “goodbye” to a hopeful and questioning one, as you hoped that she felt the same and wanted to talk just as much as you did.

Wanda,

It’s the end of the year. Technically, we should be done with our letters because it’s the end of the year, and the assignment is graded. This should be a closing letter, but I don’t think that our friendship was ever dictated by the grades that we got. We were always closer than all of the other pen pals at school that I knew, and I was hoping that you would want to continue writing.

You couldn’t write much more after that, because your pen was shaking and you were starting to get in the danger zone of dropping tears on the paper. If this was your last letter to Wanda, you wanted it to be pretty. Just half as pretty as she always made hers, if you could manage it.

You sent it off the next morning after finding an old string that was nearly the same colors as hers and getting your friend across the street to hold it down and color the outside of it for you.

§§

A part of you wanted to say that you wouldn’t have been expecting to still write handwritten letters to a girl in Sokovia in the ninth grade, but you certainly were. While everyone else in your class had lost contact after the assignments were done or tried and failed to keep contact afterwards, you and Wanda continued talking all through the years.

It astounded your parents, who were sure that in the beginning, you were just obsessed with someone who was your age and who wasn’t exactly like you. They thought for sure that you would have lost interest in talking to Wanda, but after three straight years, gas spent taking you to the post office, and money spent on special stamps and the same paper, they were starting to finally get the hint.

Because you were so close with Wanda, you hardly had close friends in your neighborhood, and maybe two or three at school. There was no one that knew you like Wanda did, and no one that knew Wanda like you did. One particular letter where you confessed probably the worst thing you had ever done to her that no one else knew was what finally let you know that she was the most judgement-free person in the world, and that you would do anything to keep her. You would never forget how the letter went, and how her response sounded.

Wands,

I’ve done something terrible. I may have accidentally gotten involved with a boy who already had a girlfriend, and I had no idea. I had literally no idea, and today she just called me out of nowhere and started crying over the phone to me, and I had no idea that he was with her. At all. It was so pitiful, and she’s not mad, and she says that she won’t tell anyone it was me, but still. She seemed to really like him, and I think I may have just ruined a relationship. I have no idea what to do, and all I feel is guilt. Nothing more or less. Should I send her something? Give her a gift card? I feel terrible because she was just so sweet about it.

The letter went on and on with your scripted rambling, so repetitive and panicked that you were shocked to know that Wanda had, in fact, read the entire thing. She got a message back to you rather quickly, and that made you both nervous about her verdict and glad, because you felt like with an answer so quick, she must not have judged you too harshly. You remembered opening it with shaky hands, and inhaling and exhaling when her first words after your nickname were “breath in” and “breathe out”.

Wanda once said that writing to you was like writing to a diary who always wrote back, and you couldn’t agree more. She knew everything, and she never judged. And, when the time came for her to put all of her eggs in your basket of trust, you did the same for her.

You distinctly remembered getting the few letters that you kept at the bottom of your letter stack, even though you liked to have them in chronological order. In the eighth grade, Wanda was having a crisis over her sexuality. Being anything but straight in Sokovia wasn’t the best thing to be, and you knew that. The first letter she ever sent you about her sexuality had dried spots on it, where she had obviously cried. Her handwriting wasn’t anywhere as neat as it usually was, and it sent you into a state of panic.

We talk to each other about everything, so here I am asking for your advice because I won’t be getting anything here. I know that usually we keep our letters formal for aesthetic purposes, but I can’t this time. Also, no one other than you can read this.

From there, she told you that she was sure that she liked women, and that she was even more sure that her parents would be upset at her. She told you that she had been dwelling on it for a while, thinking about it and having it weigh heavily on her mind. She was all over the board with it, from her parents being upset to her being afraid that you were going to be opposed to it as well, or tell her that she was “too young to think that way”. She ended the letter by telling you that you were the first person that she had ever told.

You started your letter with your own confession, and Wanda Maximoff was the first one you ever told, too. You were past having your crisis, though, and you helped her through hers without a second of complaints. You always wished that you had someone to help you when you were down and questioning yourself, so you knew that you would be that for Wanda without hesitation.

You two grew together even more, and by the ninth grade, you both knew that there wasn’t going to be anything in the world that could stop your letters.

You came home one day after a long day and checked your mailbox out of habit, knowing that a letter wasn’t due for a few more days. But there it was, wrapped and sitting pretty for you. Your name was scrawled beautifully on the front in the handwriting that got better and better with every year, but you would recognize it anywhere. A smile grew onto your face as you walked to your front door, unlocking it and rushing inside to get to your desk. Of course, your name came first in the loopy letters.

I hope you’re doing alright! Things have been busy over here on my side of things, but never busy enough to not write you back. I just wondered, have been wondering for a while, really, if we were ever going to meet. We’ve been writing to each other for years, but I’ve never seen a picture of you. I know everything about you, but I’ve never met you. You are my best friend in the entire world, but I’ve never heard your voice. One day I would love to finally meet you. Would you be open to thinking about one of us flying out? Maybe after school is over for the both of us, we could make it happen. Number

It was much longer than that, but that was what caught your attention, more than her description of her busy week did. You read the letter three times. And then again. Your heart thumped in your chest as you tried to get a grip on yourself, irrational nervousness gripping your throat like an iron fist.

You knew the day was coming. You knew that it was. You two didn’t know what the other looked like at all, and neither of you had ever asked. Sometimes, you thought about it, but other times you found that it really didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what she looked like because she was the best friend you had ever had, so you forgot about it. But that wasn’t what worried you.

The thought of meeting her nearly put you in cardiac arrest. You couldn’t meet her. What if you met and you two were totally bored of each other? What if how close you were on paper didn’t reflect at all in real life? What if you two found roadblocks in conversation that you never saw before? You didn’t want to meet her, not at all. You were terrified of it.

Because if you didn’t connect with Wanda on sight, then you doubted that you would ever be able to connect with anyone else. If you were wrong about Wanda being your person and her being yours, you would be crushed. If you figured out that the person who you gave your all for didn’t like you anymore after meeting you, you would die on the spot. You couldn’t afford to find it out.

You sat at your desk for an hour after reading her letter, smoothing your hand over the paper like you always did before you wrote your response. You knew what you needed to say, you just didn’t know how to say it.

What she had already written helped you, too. She was implying that they met up after graduation, which was still years away. You had time to hold off on it, to not talk about it for a while. You had some stall time in the bank, for sure. And you were going to use it.

§§§

You made the mistake of not putting the letter in your box.

Your mother came into your room, and she saw the letter. Your desk was typically off limits, so you were upset that she read it anyway, but what she said led all anger out of your body and made way for fear.

“You should totally go see your friend, sweetie!”

“What?”

“I’d pay for you to fly out,” your mom said. “I’d come with you, but I would pay for you to fly out and see your friend. You’ve been writing each other for three years now, and you’ve never seen each other. You guys should do it.”

“You’d fly me out to Sokovia?”

“You’re a great kid, of course I would.” You took the letter from her hands gently and put it in the box, and she gave you a look. “You don’t want to go, do you?”

You didn’t answer.

“Why not?”

“I’m scared to meet her,” you admitted plainly, and then your mother gave you a look.

“She seems so excited to, after all these years. She’s such a sweet girl, what are you worried about?”

You couldn’t answer that. Your fears were your own, and they sounded ridiculous out loud. They made no sense to everyone else, and sometimes not even to you. Wanda Maximoff was nothing but sweet and kind and a good friend, and there you were, trying to blow her off because you were scared of a possible lack of face to face connection.

“Can we just drop it?”

And you did. In fact, all four of you did, until later.

§§§

By the end of your junior year, you were done for. Not because of tests or applications or any of that, it was because you realized that you were in deep for Wanda Maximoff.

It all made sense. The need to keep writing to her, the excitement you had felt getting a letter since sixth grade, the way you marveled over her penmanship and loved everything that she said and did. You were so in love with her, and it was irreversible. You were in love with her and what the two of you created together.

And you couldn’t lose that because of a bad meeting.

You avoided the topic of going there or Wanda coming to you, and you finally got each other’s numbers so that you could text on some international texting app, but primarily, it was still the heartfelt letters with the occasional heart stamps and constant string coming your way. And you wouldn't haven’t wanted anything different.

You sat at your desk on the last day of school as you wrote to her, writing about how you were about to watch some of your slightly older friends graduate in a few days. You also mentioned how you were excited to be a senior and get through your last year of high school just so that you could go and do whatever it was that you wanted to do, because you were only seventeen, and you didn’t know anything.

Sunshine,

I can’t wait to get out of high school. It’s not bad, just boring. I wish the people here were like you, and then maybe I could actually carry a conversation with them. Have you told your family yet? I told mine. My mom was… shocked to say the least, but she was fine with it. I think she might have suspicions about us writing to each other now, but who cares? I want to know if you’re alright.

How’s your new job going? I know you were excited to get one, so I hope it’s treating you well. It’s funny that you and Piet work across the mall from each other. I knew it was gonna be like that, even though you said it wouldn’t be! You two are inseparable, it’s so cute. Does he have any idea what he wants to do after we get out of school?

I kind of think that I want to start my own business. A flower shop, maybe. You know how I sort of have a green thumb. I think it would be good for me to own something. What do you think?

You wrote for about thirty minutes more, answering the questions she had asked you in a previous letter and signing your name at the bottom, a small smile on your face as you thought about her and her brother making food together like they always did.

You loved her. You really did.

§§§

It was in the middle of your senior year when you realized what the problem with her coming was. You had been keeping it so far in the back of your mind that you didn’t even realize that the alarms were blaring in the back of your head.

You knew that if you saw Wanda in person once that you would never be able to let her go. You would have to pick up and move to her country or she would come to yours, and it would kill your mother for you to move. So, that would mean that you would be asking for Wanda to leave her own family to be with you, and you couldn’t be selfish.

So, you would be selfish in a way that was also selfless by holding off on seeing her.

You hadn’t told her that you loved her, and you planned on never admitting it. You were sure she kind of knew, even just a little, but she never said anything. The way that you were holding onto the idea of her probably said enough for her to know. You just hoped that she knew that you were in love with her as a friend, at least. Wanda was the type who needed to know that they were loved, and she so was.

You loved her without even knowing what she looked like. You loved her without knowing whether she had a nasty habit or if she was a neat freak. You loved her without seeing her in a dress or in your favorite color or even looking into her eyes. You had never even heard her voice before, but that didn’t matter at all. You fell in love with her hand writing, then the way that she wrapped her letters, and then her words themselves. And then, you just were in love with Wanda Maximoff. All of her. All that you knew. And the things that you didn’t.

You thought about a confession letter for a long time. You were terrified of it, to say the least, because what if it backfired? What if she thought that you were only interested because she came out to you? What if she thought that you didn’t mean it at all?

Or worse, what if she just completely didn’t feel that way at all? What if the feeling she got when she wrote to you was nothing but platonic? That would be the biggest nightmare of all, and you had no idea how you were ever going to be able to pick up your fancy pen and put it to your special parchment after reading that.

By the time that you finally stopped wrestling with yourself about whether you were going to tell her that you were in love with her, you got a letter in the mail. A heart stamp was on the outside and it was tied with the string it always was, and the familiarity calmed your racing heart. You opened it gently, like you did with all of the letters you got, and then you saw her familiar scrawl.

How could someone’s handwriting feel like home?

Moonlight,

I would love to tell you about everything that’s been happening here, but I believe that it’s rather boring compared to what’s been bursting at the seams in my own mind. With every letter that I’ve ever written to you since we were thirteen, I’ve hesitated with my pen over telling you what I know has been true for years. I think that, finally, I know that I have something to say to you. I’ve always wanted to admit this to you, ever since the seventh grade.

I think that I fell in love with you, a long, long, time ago. I think that I know I did. I haven’t told you, and I never intended to tell you, because I was scared. I’m still scared here, as I write this letter, but I can’t keep it to myself anymore.

Pietro already knows, but he knew before I even did. I’m sure it has something to do with us being so in sync, that he knew where my heart, love, and loyalties were before I even knew myself. I tell you everything, and something as monumental as falling in love with someone, I believe that you should know. But I couldn’t tell you. Not in the beginning, and apparently, not even after a year or two.

I’ve never seen you or heard your voice or held your hand, but I don’t need that to know that I truly have fallen in love with the person that you are. You are a beautiful person with the most gorgeous soul I have ever had the privilege of talking to, and I think that we have stumbled upon a connection that we may never see again, if you feel the same way.

If this made you uncomfortable in any way, please tell me. I’m sorry if this came on too strong, or too up front. I never want to make you upset.

It’s okay if you don’t want to carry on writing to me after this letter. I just thought that I needed to tell you after all this time. We never lie to each other, and I think that this lie to save me from possible embarrassment or losing the greatest friend I have ever had has expired. Thank you as always for reading, Moonlight.

Your Sunshine, Wanda.

Your jaw was slacked, and your mouth was open. Your heart was beating so quickly, but it wasn’t frantic. Your mind was going at a thousand miles a minute, but you were calm. You were supposed, but you weren’t. It simply felt… right. It felt like you had secretly been expecting it all along, like your soul had known the whole time, or maybe even like it had known that you felt the exact same way. It felt like you were receiving news that you had already heard about.

But that didn’t take away any from the pure elation that you felt. You set the letter down so that you didn’t accidentally wrinkle it, and then put your head in your hands to hide your smile and think, like they would help you any.

She loves me. Wanda loves me. And not in the way that friends loved each other, that’s not how she loved you. She felt what you had been feeling, a bond so strong that it could be felt on paper.

Your hands shook as you reread the letter. You scanned over it for a second time, a third time, and you were tearing up by the fifth, finally setting it down again and leaving it on your desk. It didn’t deserve the beautiful darkness of the box where it’s predecessors went, not yet. Probably not ever. You would have framed it in the moment, if you could have.

Part of you was glad that she admitted it first. You were going to, one day, maybe. But the worst part was the hypothetical wait for the letter to cross the pond. Whoever sent the confession letter would have to wait about two weeks for a response, and that felt like forever. You knew that just as much as she did, and she still took the chance to do it.

So, with the most fond and gentle smile on your face, you took out your special pen, wrote Sunshine as the entrance, and then professed your own love right back at her, trying as hard as you possibly could to make it as beautiful and raw for her as you felt on the inside, and as the one that she gave you. But, all you could think of were the first two sentences, but you knew that you were going to go for much longer than that.

Sunshine,

Oh, Wanda. How I wish we were both brave enough to do this earlier.

§§§

By the end of your senior year, you two were dancing around each other, taking it slow, as if you both hadn’t professed your love for each other. You kept writing your steady letters to each other, the same nicknames, the same doting words and pretty scratched across the paper with dark ink.

For the most part, nothing changed. But neither of you could deny the way that you wanted to see each other. And so, your time was up. You had to stop messing around.

The first time the two of you planned to see each other, it was supposed to happen over that summer break. It was supposed to be a nice experience for everyone, at a time that was actually pretty convenient.

And then, right during the week she was supposed to come, her aunt passed away, right in her sleep. It didn’t even come to your mind to think about rescheduling so fast, and that was the first time you had ever gotten an email from Wanda. She emailed you the morning that she found out, saying that she would rather send the first email than have you show up at the airport upset because you didn’t know she wasn’t coming. She was able to resell her ticket and you assured her that it was totally okay for her to not be coming, and you gave her condolences, as well. Wanda was very close to her family, and you knew that she felt that loss.

The next time the plans fell through, it was because you were going to surprise her. Your mom paid for your ticket, and you had finally grown out of your own mind and realized that it was going to be what it was regarding meeting Wanda. But, when you emailed her two nights before, spilling the beans because you didn’t want to just go to the airport without knowing how the hell to get around, you got a quick response. Turns out, she wasn’t anywhere near her house, or the airport. She was on a marine biology trip in some waters off the coast of Romania, and she hadn’t gotten the chance to write you all about it yet. You begrudgingly canceled the trip and told her that of course, it was alright. That night, your mom assured you that the two of you would just try again later.

But then life happened. You went off to culinary school, a last minute yet sure decision after Wanda had taught you that there was so much more to love about food other than the taste. She had your new address and you had hers, because she moved from Sokovia to Italy for her marine biology major. The letters came and went faster, with the smaller amount of mileage.

Long story short, neither of you had enough money to go and spend thousands on a trip, and not even one helping the other out or splitting the cost helped much. Wanda was getting increasingly nervous about whether it was ever going to happen, and though she never stated it directly, it was very obvious. You were getting there, too.

The thing that kept you going was the letters. The same as they had always been on her end and yours, they were the one constant in your life. Wherever you went, you knew that her letters would follow you, and that you would still write from your heart and send your own across the sea over to some place in Europe. You knew that as long as her letters were lengthy and detailed and that if she took the time to wrap them as gently as she had been, that you two were strong. And as long as you kept giving advice and writing her entire short stories about you week, she knew that you were still hers.

You would be hers until your heart stopped beating, and long after that. You were there for her for as long as she wanted you to be, and that was widely known.

§§§

It took four years for you to get back home and in a place where you could afford a ticket in or out. Wanda took a little longer, but that didn’t matter. It only gave you even more time to save and plan for when she came, and the date came.

You were both twenty two when you bought her the winning ticket. You were flying her out to Florida for a week and a half. The Keys, to be exact. You knew that she was going to love it and the beautiful waters that came with it, and it was away from the meddling eyes and mouths of your family, the ones who had been routing for you from afar (and in the beginning, behind your back). It was just going to be the two of you in a condo, and you knew that it was going to be heaven on earth.

Now, hell on earth was the anticipation of waiting at the airport. You had no idea what Wanda Maximoff looked like, partially because it didn’t matter while you two wrote, and also because you wanted to see her for the first time in person. You two had a flare for dramatic romantics, another reason that you two clicked so well.

You stood with a sign that you had made the night before with paint that you had mixed yourself into her favorite shade of red, a scarlet, almost pink color. You were in a sundress because it was sweltering outside, and you were almost nervous about how she would take the heat after being somewhere so cold all of her life. You were rocking back and forth on your feet without even noticing, and your stomach growling was the last of your worries. Your heart was racing and your hands were shaking, but you willed them to stay still so that she could at least have a chance of reading it.

You were sure that you were about to pass out. It seemed like it had been millennia and a day all the same with her in your life. Everything that you had written each other was really about to come to life, after ten long years. You felt almost like it wasn’t real at all, like you were about to be woken up by your alarm back in your apartment over at your old school. But it was very, very real, and all the receipts and your racing heart advocated for the truth in it all.

The gates opened, and all of a sudden, people were lazily walking out, as one would do after a long flight. You were certain that the woman who was standing next to you could hear you start to slightly hyperventilate, but you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to you in that moment was Wanda.

A man came up from behind you and bumped you, and he said his apologies while you bent down to pick up the sign. Despite your nervousness, you stopped to tell him that it was okay, sign still face down on the floor. He grinned at you and then frowned when he looked up, causing you to mirror his expression.

Your name. It was clear as day, accented, close, and sounded like a sigh of relief and wonder floating in the wind. It came from a woman you didn’t know the voice of, and just like that, you remembered what you were doing. You left the sign on the floor, stood up, and turned around as fast as you could, eyes slightly wild as they soaked in everything about the woman standing in front of you.

Her hair was almost a cross between light brown and light red, even in the fake lights of the airport. She had light makeup on and she looked a little tired from the flight, but the look of elation on her face wiped it all away. Her pink lips were curved into an open mouthed smile, like she had forgotten the words while they were already halfway to her tongue. Your heart raced as you looked at her, and you didn’t even need to question who she was. Or who she was to you. You couldn’t look at anything but her face, the face you had been missing so achingly without ever seeing it before, the face that you knew was bound to give you comfort that you had never felt one in your life, until the end of your days. Her eyes were wide and a clear blue as they stared back at you, reflecting your exact expression, and you sensed that the two of you had already synced up and gotten on the same page, just like you had both predicted.

“O-oh my god,” you breathed out, just inches away from her. “Wanda!” You went in for an embrace at the same time, both of you somehow knowing which way to lean your head to avoid collision, and just where to put your arms. You fought shaking when you held her, your nerves completely shot at it finally happening. You were actually with Wanda, in an airport, hugging her like there was all the time to spend in the world. “Oh my god,” you repeated, and you felt her squeeze you a little closer to her. You could have cried in that moment.

“You,” she pulled back from you to take your face in her hands, her blue eyes scanning over your face like she was studying priceless art. In the back of your mind, you wondered if it was the way she looked when she watched the animals underwater. She shook her head slowly, eyes welling up with the thinnest layer of tears as her lips turned up into a smile. “You are beautiful.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked downwards, feeling yourself get hot at the bold and sincere compliment. You knew that anything more than about three words was going to smoke you stutter “Wanda, have you seen yourself?” She laughed, a soft sound that you had imagined hearing so many times that you almost thought you had made it up, until you saw the upturn of her mouth and the mirth in her eyes.

“I’m- I can’t believe I’m actually here,” Wanda breathed out, and you felt the same exact way. How had you pulled it off? After nearly a decade of pining that was mutual and writing to each other about every little detail in your lives, she was finally right in front of you, where you could see her and touch her.

“How’d you know it was me?” You asked after a second of grappling for something to say. “I didn’t have my sign up when you came.”

The smile that was on her face went from being flat out joyful to content, almost peaceful. It rubbed off on you immediately as you leaned back into her touch, ignoring all of the people bustling around in the busy airport. “I just knew that it was you.”

§§§

For the entirety of the day Wanda arrived, all the two of you did was stare at each other and hold onto each other, like you were both equally terrified that the gods were going to come down from wherever they resided to split you up again. There was hardly even any talking when you arrived at the condo, and it felt natural. The two of you had already spoken so much, and now you needed to catch up on just seeing her. You’ve seen her soul, her mind, her heart, and now you were seeing her face. It felt like you had always known it.

But you were the first one to speak as you held hands on the deck, her thumb drawing subconscious hearts on the back of your palm. “You have a way with words, sunshine.” The name contrasted to the sky, which was dark but illuminated with an almost full moon and stars. The city was mostly behind you, so the natural light was what you got. It was all that you needed.

You felt her content fade into joy. “Really?”

You knew that she was nervous about her English, but to you, it was perfect. From her accent to the way that she sometimes missed connotations that were specific to the language to the idioms that accidentally slipped into your letters, you loved it. “Mhm,” you hummed, leaning your head on her shoulder. “And I never would have imagined that you sounded so… sweet.”

“Sweet?” She parroted, and you smiled even though she couldn’t see it. Somehow, you knew that she could feel it, in some strange way. “Can I ask you something?” The answer was yes. It was yes, and it always would be yes. So, you said that. She cleared her throat, a quiet sound that you stored in your memory to keep, simply because she made it. “Did you… did you mean what you wrote?”

You were stumped. There had to be hundreds of letters between the two of you, and thousands upon thousands of topics. But you couldn’t question yourself for long, because then you knew exactly what she was talking about.

Did you truly love Wanda? The question came up a few times between you and your mother when you were in your first year of culinary school. Were you in love with Wanda Maximoff, or were you in love with the idea of Wanda and the mystery she brought? The question had been brought up, many times by your mother, who was only just making sure that you were being smart, and the answer never once varied. Yes. You loved Wanda Maximoff with every breath you took, every stroke of your pen, every glance at her pretty script. You knew that Wanda was it for you, and seeing her only solidified it. The way your hand fit together like they were the missing parts of a lost artifact made it concrete. The way she gave you everything back and the way you did the same told you everything you needed to know.

You leaned off of her shoulder and turned to face her, a soft smile on your face as the moon came out from behind the singular patch of clouds in the night, illuminating her features. You saw her face and her spirit through brand new eyes, and it was wonderful. It was all you could ever ask for. “Wanda,” you started, your voice quiet enough to not disturb the moment, and the sound of waves crashing not too far away. “I’ve loved you since I knew what love was, and I have been in love with you for as long as I knew what the difference between the two really was. Everything that I have ever sent to you, every word, I meant it all. And I’ll mean it for the rest of my life.”

She was staring at you blankly, with only a bit of something lingering in her gaze. Then, as soft as a breeze, she was muttering something under her breath in her mother tongue and putting her hand on your face. “Can I kiss you?”

You ignored the way that your heart surged in your chest. The moon was still out and bright, shining down on the two of you like you had paid for it to be a spotlight. “You never have to ask,” you said, and then, as fluidly and gently as humanly possible, she tilted her head and leaned forward, and you met her halfway.

§§

You had never been scuba diving before, but Wanda was in her element. She helped you suit up after she told the instructor that she was certified, and then rolled her eyes playfully when he checked behind her work. You cracked a smile. The entire time he was instructing, she was nearly bursting at the seams to get into the water, and the second he said that the two of you were allowed to go, she was holding your hand and asking if you were ready.

You never thought that Wanda could look more beautiful than she already had, but in and near the water, she was something else. She was in a state of grace and peace all the same, and you wanted nothing more than for her to be so tranquil, for the rest of her life. All you wanted in return was to be privileged to see it.

The gods that made you fear a bad trip were actually on your side, because Wanda excitedly pointed out a group of migrating sea turtles, not even paying either of you any mind at all, carrying about through nature. You smiled at them and at her, unable to decide which one was going to be the apple of your eye at the moment. You chose her.

§§§

You got out of the shower, your skin still slightly damp and the air humid from the heat of the water. You smiled at Wanda when you caught her looking at you, giving you that same blank stare that she had the first night the two of you got there. You stopped in your tracks, giving her the encouraging look that you knew she needed. “You okay, Wands?”

“I love you.”

Your breath hitched. It was the first time she had spoken the words aloud, and you both knew it. The weight of the words and the confession felt so true, so genuine, that it went straight to your heart and made it swell with warmth. A small yet generous smile stretched onto your face as you felt everything fall into place. “I love you, Wands.”

“More than I’ve ever loved anything,” she continued, like she hadn’t even heard you, and you looked back at her with a doting expression. “And, I’ve been holding off because I don’t know how to say that,” she paused, and then she fell into deep thought.

You took a step closer, assuming that the small language barrier had come up. When it took her more than a few seconds and you saw the little scrunch of confusion between her brows appear, you spoke up. “There’s no rush,” you said gently.

“If other people were to look at us, they would say that we have only known each other for three days,” she said, and you nodded. “But, I feel that we’ve known each other for thousands of years. I feel that we were made to meet, and that we were always going to no matter what came up. Why else would we both be so focused on talking to each other? I have always seen you as someone special to me, always, but now that we have finally seen each other face to face, I think that my… heart is recognizing you as it’s other part.”

You had no words in your mind at that moment, because they were all in your heart. You couldn’t open your mouth to convey the pure shock and relief that you felt at her admitting something that you had been feeling the whole time. You swallowed and felt your eyes burn with tears, but before they could fall past your cheeks, Wanda stood up and wiped them from your face before pulling you close.

Nothing mattered. Not the fact that you were still wet and she was in her pajamas, not the fact that you were in a towel, not the fact that the pizza man was knocking at the door. It was you and her, like it always had been in your mind, and Wanda’s too.

You were it for her, and she was it for you. And while you hugged it out in that beautiful condo in Florida, you silently thanked your sixth grade English teacher for making you write to a random girl your age all the way across the Atlantic, and you thanked Wanda for being the one who wrote her way right into your life.

so. uh! hiiii! i hope y’all liked it! i loved writing it, even though she was a lil bit of a challenge, not gonna lie. feedback is always appreciated!!

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel fanfic #wanda fluff #scarlet witch #marvel au #wanda maximoff fluff #lgbtq #lesbian!wanda

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dem-obscure-imagines · 5 years ago

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Snowflake

Jack Frost x Reader

Prompt: Hi there! I saw you wrote for Jack Frost and was hoping to request a Jack Frost x reader imagine for Soulmate au the one where you and your soulmate have matching marks and the marks glow when you’re near your soulmate.

Note: LOVE THIS CONCEPTTTTT. I was scrolling through requests and this one REALLY spoke to me. Haven’t written for Jack in a while, but I love the boy. And, as always, you know I love a good soulmate au.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 1.9k

You were proud of your soulmark. You really were. How could you not be? After all, it represented not only your future, but the person you were destined to spend the rest of your life with, whoever that was. It also happened to be in a really cool shape: a gorgeous snowflake etched into your wrist. You found yourself staring at it a lot, sketching it in the corners of your papers for school, sketching it on everything, really.

It only made sense that winter became your aesthetic. You had sweaters and sweaters covered in snowflakes, you had snowflake earrings, snowflake rings, snowflake necklaces and notebooks and pencil toppers. You loved winter and the coziness the cold season brought. You loved bundling up in cute scarves and boots and jackets and hats, you loved drinking hot cocoa and decking the house out in decorations and going ice skating with friends.

It was your freshman year in college and you still hadn’t found whoever your snowflake was supposed to lead you to, and once the snow started falling, you couldn’t help but hope that maybe, this was the year it was supposed to happen. This was the winter that would matter.

You were on your way back to the freshman housing from the university library the first time you felt what you called a spark. A cold gust of wind blew past you and when it did, you felt your mark jolt. You stopped in your tracks, snow gently falling all around you. You heart was racing and you stood there frozen, unfamiliar with the feeling that had just coursed through you all at once, intense and sudden.

Curious, you pulled up your sleeve to look down at your snowflake. Flickers of light shimmered before fading away to nothing. You looked around, but the courtyard was empty. There was no one even near you, and no one had been a few seconds earlier.

Weird.

You walked the rest of the way home, flinching at every noise, looking around for people at ever turn, and checking your wrist every once in a while just to be sure. The further you walked, you were sure you had imagined it, and yet, nothing that vivid could possibly be a figment of your imagination. Right?

Classes continued, new layers of snow came down every few days, covering the campus in its sparkling beauty. The window of your dorm room was covered in a thick layer of ice, thoroughly frosted and cold to the touch. You’d look at it sometimes while laying on your bed, tracing your soulmark with the tip of your finger absently. Your heart raced when you thought of the moment you’d finally felt something, only for it to slip away just as quickly.

Maybe it was a glitch in the system, you reasoned. But…maybe it wasn’t…

***

About a week later, you were out walking the campus with some friends. It was the weekend, and you were out to grab a bite to eat. After lunch, the three of you went outside to fool around in the snow. Together, you started assembling a snowman, packing the snow together and rolling three giant snowballs to form his body.

Once you had him built and stuck some sticks in his sides to be arms, you bent down and packed a snowball in your hands, a mischievous grin slowly stretching across your face. Then, you straightened up and threw it at your closest friend, making her giggle before racing to make her own. In seconds, a snowball fight broke out.

While you were playing around in the snow, you felt the feeling again and you froze, standing completely still as the now-familiar chill pulsed in your wrist. A snowball exploded across your chest, your friends laughing before they realized something was wrong.

You rolled up your sleeve to look at your mark, and this time, instead of disappearing flickers of light, the entire mark was lit, but faintly. You gasped, staring at it for a long time, your heart racing. Finally, you remembered to look around. As it was a weekend, there were a lot of people roaming around, but none of them seemed to be affected in the way you were, and when you looked back down at the mark, the light had gone out.

“H-holy shit…” You whispered, heart still racing and fingers trembling.

“Do you want to look around?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. The three of you wandered around campus, monitoring your wrist like it was a GPS, but no matter how far you looked, it didn’t light up again. Weird, you decided. A little deflated, you returned to your dorm and took off your jacket and gloves and climbed up onto your bed, getting out some homework to work on before Monday reared its ugly head.

You put in your earbuds and started grinding through your Stats homework, and then when you were done, you pulled out a sketchbook and started drawing snowflakes. When you finally looked up at your window, there was a snowflake traced there. The same one that was on your wrist, tingling ever so slightly, little pinpricks of light dancing around the mark like pixie dust.

Your heart raced. Your room was on the fourth floor. There was no way someone could just…be outside your window tracing that there. Something didn’t quite…line up. It was really starting to freak you out a little.

Maybe…maybe your soulmate was a ghost…

***

You endured another week of classes, the occasional tingling on your wrist, but aside from that, nothing weird had happened that pertained to the snowflake permanently etched into your skin. You did, however, find yourself dreaming about it almost every single night.

When Friday finally rolled around, instead of going to a party with some friends, you grabbed your ice skates (you’d found them at a thrift store a few years back and they’d served you well) and headed to the little ice rink they’d set up in one of the courtyards of campus. There were a few people there, the traffic was pretty low, as it usually was on Friday nights when people were out partying. It was a more popular place on Saturday and Sunday afternoons. But no, you liked to go to this place on Friday nights, especially when there was a lot on your mind, and boy, was there ever.

You skated around for a while in the cold, snow falling gently all around. The sun set and one by one, the stars started to appear. As they did, and the streetlights came on, slowly, the people who were there skating started to leave until finally, you were the only one left circling around the rink.

Eventually, after a few more lonely laps, you stopped in the middle of the rink and just stared up at the sky, at the big fluffy snowflakes drifting down, and at the bright full moon shining down on you.

And in that quiet moment, you felt another patch of tingles on your wrist. You gasped and your breath fogged up in front of you in a puff of steam that floated up into the chilly night air. Moving carefully, you reached for your sleeve and tugged it higher, so you could see the mark. The light escalated from starry little dots to the full mark glowing faintly at first. You looked around you into the emptiness surrounding you and then back down at the mark, which was steadily growing brighter.

“H-hello?” You called out shakily, looking for some sign of someone there, but there was no one. The campus was empty this late at night when everyone else was inside in the warmth. Quieter, you asked, “Are you there?”

You did not expect a reply, but you did get one. It was faint, a wintry whisper, his voice deeper than you expected, shaking like he was as nervous as you felt. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

You immediately slipped and fell back onto the ice, sitting there in shock. You stared into the air in front of you, where you’d heard the voice. His voice. It was impossible and you knew that, and yet, your mark was glowing brighter than it ever had before.

“Who are you?” You asked, blinking up at the empty space before adding, “Where are you?”

The voice gasped. “Y-you can hear me?!” He sounded surprised. Before you could reply, he popped into existence right in front of you, crouched down so he was on your level. “C-can…” He paused, looking down before looking right into your eyes with his icy blue eyes. “Can you see me?”

“Now I can.” Your voice shook. You laughed in disbelief. He did too.

He reached forward with his hand, his wrist glowing as brightly as yours was. He was tentative, as if he wouldn’t be able to touch you, like his hand would go right through yours, but you reached up and pressed your hand against his. Your wrists were shining as bright as LEDs, blinding almost. His hand was large and cold, his skin as pale as the snow falling around you, his hair so blonde it was white.

His fingers intertwined with yours and he let out a long breath, staring at you. He smiled slowly, tears welling in those blue, blue eyes. “I’m Jack. Frost.” He introduced, your hand still tightly in his.

“(Y/N) (L/N).” You laughed, shaking your head. This was not happening. “Why did I have a feeling you would say that?”

He chuckled and shrugged. “I’ve been told I look like a Jack Frost.”

You laughed at that, admiring him for a long time before he finally helped you up off of the ice. You wobbled on nervous legs, but he held you steady.

“Woah, easy there…” He whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Your arms wound around his shoulders. The height boost your skates gave you made you about eye level with him. “How long have you been…around here?”

“The last few weeks…” He admitted. “I was flying by and…well,” he motioned to his wrist, “something finally felt different.” He paused, looking down. “I’m so sorry I didn’t find you sooner. I’ve been looking everywhere. And then you had classes and I—”

“It’s okay.” You shook your head, a hand reaching up to touch his cheek. He melted against your touch, leaning into the warmth of your palm. “You’re here now.”

“I’m here now.” He repeated, nodding. Tears welled up in his eyes once again and he inhaled a shaking breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Sorry I took so long.” You apologized.

“Don’t be sorry.” He shook his head. His expression softened, his eyes locked on your lips for a moment before he started leaning in. You met him halfway, relishing in the cold but pleasant feeling, tingles running from your mark up your arm and then down your spine. This was right. This was how it was meant to be. When you pulled apart, he finally whispered, “You were worth every minute.”

#jack frost #jack frost x reader #jack frost imagine #rise of the guardians #rise of the guardians imagine #rotg #rotg imagine

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colorfullfalls · 4 years ago

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Blast to the past

Sodapop Curtis x Reader

Summary: Soulmates are very tricky because sometimes two people who are meant to be are born in two different generations. Your soulmate can be born three days after you die. Luckily the mystical universe transports you there to meet yours. That’s how you find yourself back in the 1960’s instead of the present.

Warnings: hinting at sexual assault

~~~~~~

Friday night is ladies night. It has been since you were twelve and it will be until you die. The core group gets together and does whatever seems interesting for the evening. The three of you ranged in activities of going to the movies, getting something to eat, thrifting, people watching, getting coffe and sitting at an empty park- you name it and it’s been done.

Tonight the gang decided to get smoothies and sit in an empty parking lot. The small town didn’t allow much entertainment for freshly graduated adults. Especially for adults that wanted more to life than such a simple place could provide.

Claire laid on the pavement, dark hair swirling around her shoulders as she turned to gaze at the moon. She was beautiful in the moonlight, soft skin glowing. You were always jealous of her unique good looks, but never aimed bitter thoughts at her. She was a warm and loving friend who was literally a ride or die.

Claire turned her head to look at Margo who was sitting upright with her keys in hand, twirling them around her hands. Margo was the wild one of the trio. The jokester who was basically a meme lord. You three fit like puzzle pieces, best friends for ever.

Claire and you shared a look of amusement as Margo dropped her keys, mumbling a quiet shit before laughing and picking them back up to repeat her actions.

“This is supposed to be a quiet, soul searching moment you know.” You deadpanned, lips curling into a smile as Margo rolled her eyes and flipped you off.

“If you wanted quiet then you picked the wrong bitch to bring along.”

Claire shook her head, “Okay, let’s post on snap about a replacement bitch. Preferably one that can be silent at times.”

You shifted so that your legs were pulled up in front of you instead of rested against the cold ground of the parking lot. A funny thing to add popped into your mind and you knew it would make them laugh, “There’s one more requirement though. It’s vital.” You added, swirling the contents in your cup to break up the remaining blotches of ice.

“Hmm?”

“They have to be willing to sacrifice their own life for Pakistan”

Claire busted out laughing hitting her cup off her leg and Margo snorted, causing everyone to laugh even harder. That fucking tik tok would never not be funny to you guys. Especially when their soulmates thought it was hilarious and would say it when you guys failed to.

Claire found her soulmate a year ago at a football game. Her soul mark burned when the cute player from the other team bumped into her after the game. Gage was the coolest dude you knew. He treated you guys like best friend and he treated her like she was the sky, the moon, and the stars. Not long after Claire found him, Margo found Naomi. A badass chick that was a tattoo artist in town. Margo now has little tattoos decorating her body from the designs her soulmate came up with. Naomi and Margo just fit, and you were happy for her. Happy for both of them.

Day after day with no luck of finding your other half, you were starting to despair for yourself. Soulmates usually found each other close to adulthood if they were in the right life time. It was disappointing to go to bed every night knowing that you were still alone. Your best friends loved you more than anything and always included you, but the soulmate connection was different- special above everything else. And here you lacked that.

Margo dropped her keys again but left them there. She picked up on your solemn mood after you didn’t talk for a few moments.

“I wanted to go camping this weekend, maybe you’ll find your lover there?” She softly spoke, giving you a hopeful smile.

You sadly smiled back, “I dunno, probably not. Sorta giving up over here.”

You looked down at the simple soul mark. An old pop bottle was the initials S.P in the middle with the letters DX very small on the bottom left underneath it. Marks were supposed to signify something important about your other half, describe something about them to you. Ever since you were old enough to remember you would buy old fashioned pop in order to collect the bottles. It meant the world to you.

“Don’t say something like that, of course you will meet them dude. We found ours early but that didn’t mean you won’t ever find them. I’m sure your other half is right around the corner.” Claire supported, patting your thigh for comfort.

“Yeah, it could be Harry Styles for all we know. And honestly it would make sense because how the hell do you meet someone famous like that?” Margo trailed off.

You scoffed, “Harry Styles- my ass. His indicator would so not be an old pop bottle. It would be a guitar or something like that.”

“I guess so. Point is, don’t fret. You have time. The world may fuck with people, but not good ones like you.” Margo grinned childishly.

“Yeah, you’re right. I am good. I sacrifice my own life for Pakistan.”

“God dammit, I hate you.” Claire stood up and offered a hand, pulling you both upright, “We better get going. The same cop has been driving by and I don’t like it.”

“ACAB.” Margo chanted as she crawled into the backseat of the car. You laughed and pushed her the rest of the way in with your foot before shuffling in yourself.

‘Best friend’ by Rex Orange County blared through the speakers as the car moved on the damp roads in the dark night. You guys sang loudly, hands out the window to feel the wind ripple against fingertips. Your heart filled with adoration of the girls in the vehicle with you. Getting sad about the soulmate thing sucked but dealing with it was easier when you had two people to assure you and take your mind off of it.

You waved bye as you walked up the steps of your house. You quickly noticed that no one else was home. Your siblings were off with their friends for the night and your parents went out for their anniversary. You sighed, taking your shoes off lazily. A warm bath would feel so nice to finish out the day. You stretched before taking a step forward toward the bathroom but your foot caught underneath the rug and you fell face first onto the hard surface of the tile.

****

Your body felt like it was on fire while rolling over to rest on your back. Forcing your eyes open, you gasped at the sight before you. Instead of laying on the bathroom floor, you were in an empty parking lot. Your heart thud roughly in your chest as you scrambled to stand.

Your mind began to panic as you didn’t recognize your surroundings. An old diner sat across from the lot and it wasn’t the one you, Claire, and Margo sometimes went to. You brushed yourself off and looked around, confused as to what was going on. Had you gotten drunk and imagined you were home and somehow managed to get lost? Did you fall so hard that you passed out and got kidnapped? Sharp pains alerted your mind to put a finger to your face. There was a scratch from where you fell, you must’ve hit it. You were just glad that your wallet was still in your hand but your phone wasn’t. You searched for it but no luck.

You meekly opened the diner door and shuffled inside. It was themed to be an old authentic diner. The usual black and white checkered floor tile, the twisty barstools, and the car sign decorations on the wall. Diners like this were adorable in your eyes.

You went to sit at a both and grabbed the young pretty waitress. She gazed at your clothes in confusion which made you internally frown. Your outfit wasn’t inappropriate or anything. Blue khaki shorts that came above mid thigh and a white and blue tie dye shirt.

“Excuse me, where am I?” You asked, embarrassment creeped up your spine as she gave you an old look.

“Tulsa. Are you lost?” She asked, shifting the tray to rest on her hip.

You quickly shook your head no, “Thank you, I’m not lost. Just uh, traveling. I’ll just have a water please.”

She gave you a funny look but nodded, going to get you the cup of water. Everyone in the diner glanced at you in curiously which made you paranoid. Alone without a phone and no escape plan. Not an ideal set up. You tried to rack your brain for what the hell was going on but you were outta luck.

Water was set down on the table and she stood there, observing you. You felt her eyes staring at your piercings, especially the hoop in your nose. You awkwardly looked up at her and smiled, hoping she would go away.

“That’s an odd looking necklace, Miss.” Her hand casually pointed towards the crystal gem necklace hanging between your breasts over your shirt.

You shrugged, “You’ve never seen them before? They sell them at Walmart or any hippy store really.”

She wrinkled her nose in judgement, “Huh, never heard of Walmart. Must be from wherever you’re from.”

You choked on air, coughing loudly to force oxygen back into your lungs. How could someone now know Walmart? Was she fucking with you right now? Waitresses usually weren’t rude unless you were rude to them first.

“They’re like nation wide? One in every town? Seriously, every town.”

No emotion appeared on her face as she shook her head no, “I still don’t know what you’re talking about... do your parents buy you those shorts? Do they care about your nose ring?”

You squirmed in your seat at her question, her voice carried a shrill tone that let you know that she didn’t approve. Jesus, did this girl think you should be in a full body suit without showing skin? You pulled them down subconsciously to try to hide some of your upper thigh. As for your nose ring, you were baffled as to why your that was an issue. So many women had them.

“I bought the shorts, but they don’t have an issue with them if that’s what you’re trying to get at? They think the nose ring is cute too. My parents are very cool with me choosing to do what I wish with my body.”

Her eyes widened in a holy-cow-you’re-crazy sorta way, “My parents would kill me if I looked like you.”

A dry laugh escaped your lips at her harsh words. And they were harsh, whether she met them to be or not. Putting women down wasn’t what you stood for and you really thought that the world was passed shaming people for what they look like.

“It’s twenty-twenty , they shouldn’t care about what you look like. Acceptance is key to a happy family.”

“What’s that mean?” She cocked her head to the side in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Twenty-twenty what is that?”

You glanced at the table to your left that was intently listening in on the conversation. You felt uncomfortable in the booth. Two guys stared shamelessly at your legs and you wanted to crawl under the table and hide.

“The year? It’s two thousand and twenty?”

She threw her head back, blonde hair following to fall down her back, “You really are an odd ball.”

You furrowed your eyebrows.

“It’s nineteen sixty nine, dear. Your cheek is bleeding and I’m assuming you fell because you’re acting crazy.” She quietly said, bending down to your eye level. A part of you wanted to hit her so hard that she fell down. Condescending attitudes rubbed you the wrong way to say the least.

You were fuming as you took two dollars out and put them on the counter, “Have a good evening.” You gritted out.

***

The cold night air pinched your skin as you walked aimlessly around the small town. You came to the conclusion that it was 1969 and you realized why the waitress was so taken back by your appearance. Girls in the sixties probably didn’t have shorts this short or nose piercings. It all made sense as you took in the town. The old styled cars, how people dressed, hell- how they talked. Old ass terms that people only used as a joke now.

So yes, you were in the past, but how and why. Watching Shameless in your bed right now seemed like heaven on earth. Your mom and dad’s faces haunted your mind when you thought about never getting to see them again. Tomorrow they would get back only to see that you have disappeared without a trace. Your dad will be so worried and heartbroken and your mom will be calling everyone to ask if they saw you.

And what would Claire and Margo think? You just knew they would feel so guilty for not knowing when they were the last ones you saw. Hurting them only hurt you more.

You found an old tree and sat down against it, letting the tears splash down your face. It was cold out from the brisk air and you had nothing to layer up with. This sucks, mega sucks, you noted.

An old red Ford Mustang parked on the road and two men got out of the car and headed your way. You clutched your wallet close to your chest in predetermined fear. Two men walking towards any woman would make that woman scared. It was a built in instinct that still wasn’t gone in the twentieth century. Especially with the men from this time. You knew women weren’t truly equal yet and they especially weren’t in this time.

They had on khaki pants and different colored polyester sweaters. Same guys from the diner that were watching you. Horrible look in their eyes as they stood in front of you.

“What’s a pretty lady like you sitting out here alone for? It’s late.” The one wearing a yellow sweater asked. His hair was brown and smoothed back, you were unable to see his eyes in the dark. He bent down to look at you in a way you didn’t appreciate. You were not having it.

“Really? Is it late? Couldn’t tell, not like the moon’s out or anything.” You retorted, shifting further back into the tree.

“Woah, no need to get lippy with me, hun.” He said, looking back at the other guy with the red sweater. Red shook his head to agree with yellow.

“Let’s not get comfortable with the nicknames. I’d say I’d call the cops but hah, ACAB... not that you would know about that.” You trailed off. You rambled when you got nervous and it was not a good feature.

“ACAB? You’re a weird one, aren’t you?” Red said, leaning down too.

“Weird, but an absolute doll. Not many girls ‘round here show skin like you.” Yellow said, hand grabbing your thigh.

Your hand slapped his away lightening fast before jumping up and backing away. You took your shoe off and held it up in defense, “Go fuck yourself! Get away from me.”

The men looked at each other in shock, assumingly at the vulgar words that escaped your pretty lips. You backed further away until you felt safe enough that you put your shoe back on and ran. You heard their feet shuffle in the grass as they ran after you.

You turned down an alley way and tripped again on a stick in the middle of the road, the boys were suddenly visible meaning you would not have time to get up and run. Instead of trying to escape, you grabbed said large stick and grasped it tightly between your hands. You wish Margo and Claire were by your side right now. You could do anything with them.

“A stick? Really? We just wanna spend some time with you.” Red said, walking closer.

“Fuck this! Fuck this so hard! Fuck toxic masculinity that makes pricks like you think it’s okay to do shit like this! Systematically you were probably raised to think chasing a woman is okay- judging from the car that you have money. Kids with money, especially in these days, are spoiled and never told no, but I don’t want you. Leave.” You shouted, twirling the stick like you saw so many times in Starwars movies. You saw the two men slowly step back and you were proud of yourself for fending them off until you heard another masculine voice behind you.

“You soc scum need to bounce.”

You moved to the side to be equally separated from whoever was behind you. A man about your age stood firmly beside two others that looked a few years off, one younger and one older.

The one that spoke was standing in the front and boy, he was beautiful. Dark hair slicked black to rest comfortably against his neck. He wore a blue and white flannel with blue jeans. His body was slim but you just knew he had some lean muscle on him. Red and yellow turned and walked away but not without making some derogatory claims about greasers.

You panted, finally breathing again as you doubled over, stick still firmly grasped in between your palms and fingers.

“Are you okay?” You heard the same voice quietly ask. You noticed they were standing right in front of you now. You meekly looked up to gaze into his pretty blue eyes. He hissed out in pain as he looked at his arm at the same exact moment that your mark started to burn so bad that you couldn’t take it. A searing pain ripped through every single one of your cells. You did it! You finally found your fucking soulmate! Without being able to stand the pain and excitement, your body tumbled forward for the second time that evening.

~~~

You heard rustling going on around you, but you clenched your eyes in fear that you wake up still stuck in the past.

“If I open my eyes and I’m not home, I’m gonna throw hands with whatever God there is.” You mumbled, slowly opening your eyes. The handsome man sat on the floor by your face, causing you to yelp and quickly move to a sitting position, hand clinging to your necklace.

“Hey, calm it, I won’t hurt you.” His gentle voice spoke. You laughed nervously as it hit you that he was your soulmate. Your life was fucked, oh so fucked. Sure, you found the one, but in a different decade!

“The world is a cruel place.” You muttered, hands removing from your necklace to rub down your face in irritation, “My life is a joke.”

He sat up on his knees, cautiously moving closer towards you as if you were a scared stray cat that he was attempting to take home to keep and take care of. You internally gagged at the idea of being kept inside as a house wife now that you were living in this time. You could not survive like that.

“It’s not. Usually people are happier to find their soulmate, yanno? I’m happy... I thought you would be.” His voice seeped with disappointment and pain.

You sighed as you felt his sadness creep up your bones and invade your sanity, “I would be thrilled if I wasn’t transported back in time. I’m not kidding, I’m from year twenty twenty. I can show you.”

You grabbed your wallet and ripped your lisence out, showing him. His eyes squinted as he read your birthday and the date you got it. His eyes enlarged as he looked back at you.

“That- that’s just impossible.”

You snorted, “S’what I thought too. Guess the universe really shoved us together on this one... and uh, thanks for saving me earlier, my inner jedi isn’t strong enough yet- I’m no obiwan.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “I don’t know what that means.”

You blushed, “Big movie franchise that eventually comes out. I’ll try to avoid pop culture references... my bad.”

He smiled, pearly white teeth showing, “you’re really pretty, y/n.”

Your heart raced in your chest at how attractive he was. Claire and Margo would hardgirl swoon with you over him but they’re not here to join you, so you had to soak up his beauty all on your own. And him saying your name like that? God, that would make any girl bust a nut.

“How do you know my name?”

He shrugged, “Saw it when you showed me the date. The name surely suits you. I’m Sodapop, Sodapop Curtis.”

He held his hand out and you hesitantly met his half way as if to give him a handshake, but instead he intertwined your fingers together before moving closer. His skin was so warm against yours and all you wanted to do was pull him closer and bury yourself in his chest. Finally finding him was overwhelming after convincing yourself that you were doomed to be alone.

“Those guys that chased you, we ain’t letting them get away with it. We’ll find them and give ‘em a good what for.” A new voice spoke.

A kid, you guessed to be about 16, stood in the living room doorway, hands shoved deep into his jean pockets. He had longer brown hair like Sodapop, but his eyes were more hazel instead of the pretty blue. You awkwardly smiled, attempting to pull your hand away but Soda tugged it back, stubborn to lose contact so soon. He gave you a sweet smile to reassure you that he wasn’t going to try anything like the two men last night.

“Y/n, this is my brother ponyboy, and that’s my brother Darryl.” Soda said, pointing to the younger kid and the full on man that walked through the front door. You nervously waved with the hand that Soda didn’t claim.

“Hi, thank you guys for saving me... although I think my stick was pretty promising...” You awkwardly spoke making all three of them chuckle softly.

“Better safe than sorry.” Darry said, offering a smile, “Come on, Ponyboy. We will be back.”

Darry signaled Pony to go with him outside, you and Soda sat in silence as you heard the truck doors and the rumbling of an engine pulling away. His thumb grazed over the back of your hand. Your insides felt like they were melting. Sodapop was extremely attractive and you could not believe that you found him. Harry Styles has some competition for sure. Well, maybe that was going far. It’s Harry Styles, no one could really beat him.

“So what’s it like here? What do you do for fun?” You asked, looking around the house. You imagined the houses around to be very similar. Old couches, ancient TVs with the antennae’s, framed photos on the mantles, and the cool old wallpaper. Very similar to the sorta place your grandparents grew up in.

“Play cards every couple nights. Go to the drive in movies when I’m not working. Diner is open late at night so that’s where young folk hangout. We find good times.” He smiled softly, getting lost in his own thoughts, “What’s there to do for you?”

You couldn’t even begin to explain that you lay in your bed watching tik toks off your phone while Netflix plays softly in the background. Or that you quote memes in a parking lot with your friends. Soda would not understand memes at all and that would be a huge struggle because half the shit that came out of your mouth were memes.

“I have fires a lot at my house, we usually sorta just sit there and bullshit for hours but uh then there’s the usual- getting coffee and sitting in a parking lot. Not much to do in my town but eat and go somewhere to hangout...”

“That sounds nice.”

You shrugged, “More people than not get drunk or smoke weed everyday because what the hell else is there to do?”

He quirked an eyebrow, “you do that?”

You shook your head no, “My friends and I drink from time to time but not heavily. And we especially don’t go to parties because those are cesspools waiting to be caught by cops. Well, fuck cops anyway, but..”

You froze when you realized that cops in this time weren’t critized by the public as much. Political climate ranged from your time to now. Soda probably wouldn’t support the LGBTQ community, or if he did he didn’t know much about it. And racism surely lingered in the 1960’s air. You felt sick thinking about fighting barriers that you usually didn’t have to.

“Do girls swear a lot in the future?” He asked timidly, not wanting to upset you but also he was just very curious. He never heard ladies swear and especially not that word.

You snorted at how cute he was, “All the time. It’s normal for us. Trust me, if you are shocked by that you don’t want to imagine the crude things that are said daily..”

His thumb stopped rubbing circles on your hand and your heart faltered. He was probably used to obideint women who were dainty and didn’t outspeak too much. Women in this era were subservient and you could not be further from that. You had quite the mouth on you and your idea would not be oppressed. You graduated pretty high in your class. You were intelligent and political and that was mind blowing to men of this time. What if you were too much for him? You wouldn’t dare change but it would be heart breaking to know that your other half couldn’t take who you are as a person. As a woman.

“What you said about the cops.. what did they do wrong? I mean here they can be annoying but they try to be fair.” He asked, thumb rubbing your skin again. His eyes glanced down at your thighs and you blushed a bit, wishing you would’ve put on your sweatpants instead before leaving to go with the girls.

“If I explained it all, we would be sitting here for days. Long story short; African Americans still aren’t equal and they are murdered by cops at an unequal rate compared to the population size. Protests turned violent and the whole country is a mess. Half the country trusts cops and the other half wants the systematic corruption to be dismantled. Personally, I’m with the latter. So cops aren’t really my heroes. I try to avoid them. Of course my dad disagrees because he’s old fashioned and doesn’t get it, but what’s so hard to get about treating people equally. America’s supposed to be a melting pot so what’s with the racism and harsh divide? Guess the founding fathers only meant equality when it came to every white man- and that’s bullshit.”

You stopped rambling to see that soda was grinning from ear to ear at you. You gave him a questioning look. “Did I miss something?”

“You are wicked smart with politics. Wiser than anyone I know, prettier than anyone I know.”

~~~

Three weeks later you found yourself walking through the library with ponyboy, fingers grazing over every book you walked past. Books were little keys to jump inside different worlds. You wished you could find a book from 2020 that would magically transport you back. You found Soda, but at what price? You wanted to go home where you had control over your life. You were lost here.

“Any book recommendations? I’m sure you had to read a lot of these.” The youngest Curtis asked as you rounded the corner.

“Hmm, ever read any Tolkien books? Like The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings Trilogy?”

“No.”

“Awh, goodie, I get to be your mentor for this. Basically these are the best damn books that you will ever read. Bit lengthy but the detail is beautiful.”

He gently took the Hobbit in his hands, one gripping the back while the other flipped through the pages, examining how many there were before he tucked it under his arm, affirming that he would take a stab at it.

“What’s it about? Is it girly stuff- not that I mind really.”

Ponyboy was unlike the rest of the gang. He was a little softy that you wanted to hide from the world in order to protect him. The gang protected him physically but his feelings were usually punched, as much as Soda tried. Ponyboy felt things differently and deeply. He was in touch with literature and his life revolves around movies and books. You imagined how much he would adore the twentieth century with how much content there would be for him.

You crossed your arms and shifted your weight to one foot, “It’s a fantasy set up. So like elves, dwarves, hobbits, trolls, orcs, shapeshifters, magic, and I’m sure there’s more but my mind is blanking here. I promise it’s worth it. And I can explain as you read.”

“You’re a nerd?”

His innocent question made you laugh, “I guess you could say that, bud. Give it a shot and if you don’t like it, so be it,” you muttered this part to him, “although no one can resist middle earth’s charm.”

“What’s middle earth?”

“Where it takes place, it’s like another version of earth basically. But hey! You’re already so interested. Soon enough you’ll be wishing you were an elf slaying orcs too.” You joked, jabbing him in the side, “and if you say you wanna be a dwarf instead, you’re dead to me.”

He smiled, “what if I like the humans more? What then?”

“Then, I would consider you an absolute freak. Humans in this are like mediocre. Well, in the hobbit at least. Lord of the Rings they are more of a key part, but they’re so boring compared to the other cultures. Unless you like boring?” You raised an eyebrows at him.

“No, I ain’t boring. And I don’t like boring either.” He stubbornly said, walking side by side with you to go check your books out.

You grabbed a few random books that you wanted to check out. Soda worked and he refused to let you go anywhere alone, so you and Ponyboy just read a lot. It was summer vacation so he was outta school and had all the time in the world. You liked hanging out with the kid.

The two soc boys were standing by the counter when you guys got there. You huffed as the one winked at you. In that moment you wished you were legolas with a dagger and could gut him.

“Surprise seeing you here, considering I doubt you guys are literate.” You spoke, smiling at the librarian as you handed her the books.

“Surprise seeing you here with only the kid, we’ve heard you’re shaking up with Sodapop now. Looks like the greaser found his soulmate.”

The derogatory term aimed at Soda fueled your veins with rage. Blood rushed into your head at the idea that these guys thought they were above Soda, who was the kindest man you knew. Your heart told you to call them motherfucking cunts but your brain warmed you that it wasn’t a good choice. You glanced over and noticed that Pony looked as mad as you. If you retaliated, you wouldn’t get beat up but if he did, he would go home bloody while you trail behind him with a guilty face. You would give them a little talk.

You blew air out of your mouth before turning around to them, “Boys, I don’t know if you keep up with the news or not, but Vietnam is an ugly war filled with horrible people. Do you know what soldiers see? People being burned alive, dogs getting shot down, bombs obliterating people, women in villages getting raped, and most importantly you watch the men you grew to love die right before you.”

The two men stared at you wide eyed as you paused to grab the books from the librarian who was also now listeninf to you.

“Drafts are inevitable, and you know what? War doesn’t care who you are; greaser or soc. The enemy won’t stop to ask your financial stability before ending your life. The boys who you deem greasers could be the ones to save you from dying. Maybe try being nice because you never know who you will end up with on that field.”

Ponyboy’s mouth opened in shock when the two socs slowly back away and left without a single word. You hummed in victory before ushering the younger boy out of the building with you.

“Where did you hear those things? Darry keeps up with that stuff and I never heard nuthin like that.” Ponyboy asked after a few minutes.

You guys walked through the gate of the house but you halted before the steps, “A lot about the war is exposed after it ends. We learned about it in school. I used it against them as a wake up call. Try not to worry too much about it.”

Pony slowly nodded, “okay.”

The door opened and two-bit shuffled out the door with a beer can in his left hand, right hand wedged in his pocket.

“You guys are in trouble.” He sang as pony pushed him out of the way and walked into the house. Two-bit walked off the porch and turned to head home. He didn’t wanna be present for the yelling.

Soda and Darry’s heads snapped to the door and you held the books tighter to your chest to hide yourself. You two forgot to leave a note where you were going and now you were going to get scolded.

“Where the hell have you two been? It’s past 8:00.” Darry scolded, throwing down the newspaper that been in his hands.

You looked to Soda for help but even he shook his head to signal that he was just as upset. You handed the books to Pony before holding your hands up in surrender.

“Oh no, you caught us. We were at the library.” You joked, quickly knocking the smile off your face when the two older Curtis boys glared at you.

“Not funny. Anything could’ve happened to you.” Soda reprimanded. Your soulmate was always worried for you when he wasn’t around. He knew how horrible soc could be and they clearly had an interest in you. It was bad enough being away from you, but getting home to you and his kid brother not there made his nerves fly through the roof.

“Socs aren’t a worry when she’s around, trust me.” Pony mumbled, setting the books down on the table.

“Whats that mean? Did those socs bother you again, Y/N?” Soda suddenly was in front of you, checking your body for any cuts or bruises. You smacked his hands away.

“No, simmer down, I’m fine.” You said, offering him a reassuring smile.

“Then what happened!”

“She shut them down with her wit before they could even start. Those soc didn’t know how to respond so they turned around and walked right away.” Pony explained.

“What did you say?” Darry asked, slightly amused. He liked you very much and was glad that such an extraordinary woman was meant for his little brother.

You shared a look with pony to silently tell him to shut up about what you really said, “Nothing that’s important. What does matter is that Ponyboy got a bunch of books that he should be reading.”

He playfully rolled his eyes, “You want me to read so you can talk to me about elves.”

You nodded, “Well yeah, they’re the best part so get to it! Once you start you will love it.”

Ponyboy nodded before picking up the books and heading towards his shared room with Soda to begin reading. You smiled as you watch him go. You knew deep down that he was excited to read but didn’t want to make it seem like he was. He liked to taunt you with your taste in movies and books but you knew he really did agree.

“You baby him more than Soda does.” Darry stated, giving you a teasing glance.

“I don’t baby him.” Soda argued, glaring at his older brother.

“You do, Soda. Darry’s right though, I baby him a lot but I can’t help it. Pony’s a good kid that’s curious about the world. Reminds me of my best friend back home... I am sorry that we didn’t leave a note, we didn’t even think about it.” You admitted, grabbing Soda’s hand and intertwining it with his. He melted into your touch and you could tell that he wasn’t mad anymore. He couldn’t stay mad at you even if he tried.

“I know, I know. Just try to be more careful.” Darry softly spoke, “I’m headed to get a shower and go to bed. Don’t let Pony stay up too late.”

Soda muttered a yes and goodnight as you saluted Darry in a joking way, making the oldest Curtis smile and roll his eyes before going about his way.

As soon as the door was shut you were pulled into Soda’s arms, both wrapped tightly around your midsection as he nosed against your neck. You blushed as you wrapped your arms around him too, smelling the oil and dirt that came with working at the DX. It was an oddly comforting smell. Distinctly him. Your soul mark tingled as he left a soft kiss against the skin of your throat.

“You gave me a real fright, doll.” He softly spoke. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pulled you closer, his lips grazing your skin with his words, “ just worried when you’re not around, ‘m always thinking about you.”

“I didn’t know you thought about anything other than cars all day,” you poked.

He snorted, “yeah right. As if.”

“I’m so used to my independence that I forgot that here I need to let people know where I’m going.”

He pulled away slightly, “Did your parents not care about your safety?”

You snorted, “They did. Of course they did, but it was so easy to get ahold of them that I could just let them know while I was away. Plus once I turned 17 they stopped really caring what I did as long as I wasn’t doing anything sketchy. And I was always with my best friends.”

“Makes sense. Darry doesn’t care what I do if I’m with Steve...”

You pullled away and picked up one of the books to start reading it, “He should be the most concerned when you’re around that boy.”

You sat on the couch and held the book in your lap as you gave him a pointed look. He rolled his eyes. You and Steve sorta got along. He was nice and all to you, but he was a dick to ponyboy and that wasn’t appreciated. He walked to the kitchen to get a pop.

Minutes later he sat beside you on the couch, glancing down at the words splashed across the pages. He skim read but the book didn’t seem that great to him.

“Y/n?”

“Hmmm, soda?” When he didn’t reply you half way shut the book and turned to him, “what’s up?”

“Does it ever bother you that you’re so much smarter than me?”

Your heart burned at his question. Soda had a complex that he was stupid because he dropped out of high school. Everyone knew he did it because of his situation in which he tragically lived. Darry couldn’t do everything on his own and soda knew that. He sacrificed his future for the better of his small family. He wasn’t dumb.

“Education changes through years, so a lot of new material has been taught to me that you wouldn’t have known.”

He crossed his arms against his chest and slunk down in the cushion, “Come on, for real. Doesn’t it bother you that I’m a drop out?”

You set the book down and shifted so that your hands wrapped around his right bicep. You leaned your head on his shoulder. He didn’t look at you, instead he was staring holes into his bedroom door.

“Sometimes I feel like you should’ve been Ponyboy’s soulmate instead of mine.” He softly spoke, “He’s brilliant.”

“Oh my god, Soda. Can it. The universe wouldn’t send me decades back to find you if we weren’t meant to be. Not one part of me cares that you didn’t finish high school. You’re Soda. The smart man who takes care of his family. Does it bother you that I’m brainless when it comes to cars?”

Soda gave you a look like you were insane, “I don’t mind at all.”

“See, it doesn’t matter. I don’t see you as dumb and I wish you would stop seeing yourself that way too.”

Ponyboy walked into the living room, blonde hair messy as if he was playing with it. His cheeks were flushed from sitting under blankets and he looked a bit sleepy. Reading always made him a bit tired from how at peace he was, which was rare in his current life.

“Y/N, I don’t know how to feel about Bilbo. He seems good but he also seems a little selfish.” He said, eyes skimming along some of the words.

You smiled, “He’s a really pure character. You’ll grow to enjoy him. What part did you get to?”

Just like that Soda was in a better mood. Watching you speak so happily and effortlessly to his little brother about a book made his heart soar. Sometimes he felt like he couldn’t connect with Pony like he wanted to. And where he was lacking you were there to make up for it.

A few hours later Soda sweetly kissed you goodnight before retiring to his shared room with Pony. You snuggled into the couch with blankets wrapped around you.

~~~

Opening your eyes you saw that you were laying in your bed instead of the Curtis’ couch. Panic flood through your veins at the idea of returning home without the boys. Your heart was racing out of your chest as you looked at the decorations on your wall. A place that felt like your safest place was now a personal hell.

You wanted to return home but not without Soda, Pony, Darry, Two-bit and even Steve. God, you had to have been especially emo if you wished to see Steve more.

The idea of seeing Claire and Margo was beyond relieving but the pain of never seeing Soda again almost cancelled it out. Once again you would be the friend without a soulmate- without a better half. You sighed as angry tears slipped from your eyes. Why did the world have to fuck with you so much? You didn’t have a soulmate, found them in another decade, and then when you grew adapted to the times and people, Mother Earth ripped you back to your old life.

“Hun, why are you crying?” You heard Soda say. You tried to sit up to look for him but a firm arm was wrapped around your middle. Somehow you completely didn’t register that when you woke up.

You struggled to turn around and there he was. Beautiful Sodapop Curtis laying right beside you in your bed. In 2020. His hair was slightly shorter but his kind blue eyes were still the same. He was still the same handsome boy from the 1960’s.

A choked sob escaped your lips as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling yourself as close as you could. Warm skin against yours assured yourself that he was real. This was real. Not some dream that your brain cruelly conjured you in attempt to calm you down.

“Did you have a nightmare?” He softly asked, a hand coming to rub up and down your back. His gesture only made more tears leak out of your eyes. You were so confused. Why wasn’t he freaking out too?

“I don’t know. Where’s Ponyboy and the guys?”

His hand faltered for a moment before he went back to comforting you, his lips pecked your forehead a few times, “They’re at home, probably asleep. Did you have a nightmare about them?”

Your mind was spiraling. Somehow the boys made it here too and soda seemed to not find this weird at all. He was acting like everything was normal.

“What year were you born?” You asked, clutching onto him, trying to remember what his skin felt like against yours.

“1999. Babe, tell me what’s going on. You’re starting to scare me here.” He lightly chuckled, adoring that you were clutching onto him as if he would disappear.

You didn’t know how to explain so you disguised it as a dream, “I had a weird dream, a really realistic one, that I was transported back to the 1960’s and I found you and the guys there. I can’t remember how we met now.”

You felt him shift slightly to get his arm free. He picked up his phone and the screen lit up. His lock screen was a picture of you two in front of a well taken care of old blue camaro.

“We met five months ago at a car show. You were with your grandpa, Claire, and Margo and I was with the boys. My mark burned when I accidently brushed your arm when I passed. We realized what was going on and we got this picture. We’ve been together since.” He recalled easily.

As he spoke, you could faintly see all of this happening in your point of view. How happy you felt when you saw him, the tingling of your mark, gushing internally at how attractive he was, you could even hear Margo cat calling in your head when you two got that picture.

Suddenly memories were dancing around in your brain. Getting Taco Bell together at midnight. Him joining your friend group to sit around the usual fire pit, him making you a s’more when you beg him even though you knew you didn’t have to ask more than once. Him building you the nice wooden shelf in your room that you put your weird Knick knacks on. Him laughing along when you scream “I will sacrifice my own life for Pakistan.” Going over for dinner and watching Lord of the Rings with pony boy.

“It’s all real.” You breathed out, “I’m sorry, that dream just really messed me up..”

He grinned down at you, his lips slowly drifting right above yours until they softly brushed together. Your soul mark tingled in utter delight. His arms slithered around your back as he moved on top of you, “I should be offended that you forgot about all of that, you know.”

You laughed, “Yeah... I’ll make it up to you by being nice to Steve for a whole day.”

He snorted, “wow, a whole day... that might kill you.”

You exaggeratedly nodded, “Honestly. He’s seriously the worst, soda.”

He boyishly smiled as he rolled off of you and stood up, grabbing his jeans and pulling them over his legs. He shoved his hands in each pocket to make them go in. He grabbed his plain black shirt and slid it over his shoulders and then head.

“I have to get home, Pony’s drivers test is in an hour and I’m the one to take him. He’ll for sure pass. I made sure of that. But tonight we will probably get cake to celebrate, the boys are all coming over. You’ll come, right?” He asked grabbing his hat and sliding it on his head.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

He winked at you once and leaned over the bed to give you a quick peck, “see you soon, pretty lady.”

You blushed, “see ya soon, handsome.”

He smiled softly before walking out the door. You laid there in the bed in disbelief. Your dream was too real to not be true but at the same time you recalled meeting him in 2020 too.

Either way you were thankful that soda was in the present with you because it was honestly the best of both worlds.

A strong breeze hit the house and your window popped open. A small scrap of paper floated in and landed on your dresser. Your hands smoothed they paper before reading it.

“Sometimes reality changes for people who deserve it.”

#sodapop curtis imagine #sodapop curtis #sodapop #sodapop imagine #outsiders imagine #soulmate au #soulmate imagine

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taeken-my-heart · 5 years ago

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Moirai Chapter 15

Summary: On your 18th birthday a name appears on your wrist. The name of your soulmate. It’s a momentous day that everyone looks forward to, but you’ve always brushed aside; refusing to believe in a fickle mistress called destiny. But what happens when on the morning of your 18th birthday you wake to find the name of your mortal enemy? Jeon Jungkook.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Genre: Soulmates au/ Enemies to lovers au. Angst, fluff, bickering, romance, eventual smut.

Word Count: 4580

NOTES: Next chapter is THE chapter...if you catch my drift ;) It will be coming out VERY soon, so keep an eye out for that. This chapter is slightly shorter than others, but next chapter will be longer than normal, so I hope that will make up for it!

You weren’t sure you would ever get used to the feeling of Jimin’s absence. It had been just over a month since you’d broken up and it was like a cavern in your chest. You hadn’t had much distraction at first, at least until Lizzy found out.

It had been overwhelming when she found out. She was the type of friend that liked to coddle and you just wanted to forget everything and be alone. Eventually, she found a distraction that worked for you, spending multiple nights a week bringing you dinner and conversation.

Your schedules didn’t always match up but somehow, she always made it work. She’d find you at work and sit with you in the breakroom sharing her hummus and chips. She’d find you outside of the hospital sitting on one of the benches, waiting to be entertained with jokes and lively stories. Or, like tonight, she’d find you at home.

A rare night off for the both of you, Lizzy had come over with takeout and a cheesy romcom from the 90’s you’d already seen one too many times. One more time couldn’t hurt, though.

You’d recently moved to a new apartment and most of your stuff was still in boxes, but you had a beanbag chair and a love seat to enjoy. The sofa had been Jimin’s purchase so you were lacking in a better seating arrangement until you could find time to search for your own couch.

Lizzy stretched lethargically across the arms of the loveseat, takeout pasta dish in her lap as she slurped noisily and you wiggled around in the beanbag chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. “I told you I can take the beanbag!” Lizzy said, turning to look at you and you shook your head, holding your own bowl of pasta to your chest as you readjusted once more.

“No way, you’re my guest, Liz.”

“I’m your best friend; that hardly counts.” She said, standing from the loveseat and hovering in front of you, “get up.”

“Seriously, I got this.” You insisted and Lizzy frowned, hand going to rest on her jutted hip.

“You look like a beached whale right now. Up, up.”

You huffed, putting your food on the floor beside you and rolling onto your knees with a groan. “Wow, things really are not the same when you’re in your 30’s.” You complained, standing and bending over to grab your food. Lizzy settled into the beanbag with a contented sigh and you resigned yourself to the (far more comfortable) loveseat.

“We need a vacation.” Lizzy announced loudly and you looked over at her while reaching over for your glass of wine on the TV dinner table between the two of you. It was rickety, precarious with age; as old as your high school diploma. Back before you’d ever even met Jimin or learned how to be delicate with your things. A quick trip to the thrift store on your way to your first semester of college had deemed you its new owner. Who knows how many had owned it before?

“What made you think that so suddenly?” You questioned.

“To be fair,” she slurped a noodle loudly and you waited, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I’m just now saying it. We’re tired and overworked and I want to sit somewhere on a beach in a bikini that shows off a little bit too much of my cellulite and drink an appletini that makes me feel a little too dizzy and just live my life. You know?”

You smiled, sipping over the rim of your glass and humming. “Maybe your soulmate is on that beach.” You teased and Lizzy’s eyes lit up, leaning forward in the beanbag.

“You’re so right. So where should we go? I’m thinking Mallorca. My sister went there last year and said it was unbelievably gorgeous.”

“Sure, we can go to Mallorca. I can’t do it for a couple months, though. I’ve already taken a few days off for my sister’s wedding so I doubt I could take more time off so soon after.”

Lizzy hummed, taking a sip of her own wine. “That’s right, when’s her wedding again?”

“The 20th of next month.” You sighed, leaning your head back against the headrest of your chair and spacing out on the television.

“You gonna be OK?”

You paused, watching the colors dance across your vision before lifting your head to look at your friend. “What do you mean?”

“You gonna be ok at your sister’s wedding? I know you, Y/N. You act like things are OK when they’re not. Do you want me to go as your plus one?” She’d finished her pasta by now, empty bowl discarded beside her on the floor.

You sighed again, looking back at the television. “What do you want me to say? Jimin absolutely broke me. I’m absolutely not OK, everything hurts and every morning I wake up thinking maybe it’ll be better and it’s just not. I know someday it will be ok, but it was 8 years, you know? Now I get to go sit at my sister’s wedding and watch her marry her soulmate while my own is,” you paused, realizing you had yet to tell your friend about Jungkook. Now was not the time. “Well, anyway. I’m not OK…but I will be.”

“I’m sorry,” Lizzy frowned, twisting her fingers around her glass. “I shouldn’t have asked. For what it’s worth, though, I know you’ll get through it. You’re pretty amazing, you always bounce back and this time will be no different, it just might take a little longer.”

You nodded, heart clenching at the thought of more time. More time to sit and think about Jimin and hurt. Sometimes you wish you could just turn your heart off.

Later, after Lizzy had left home and you’d finished cleaning up your living room, you made your way towards your bedroom, flicking on the lights. There were only a couple boxes left unpacked in here. You’d wanted a sense of normalcy in at least one room so you’d chosen to focus on your bedroom.

Lizzy had come over and helped you hang up the fairy lights across your ceiling. They cast a much softer glow than the actual light in the center of the room and you liked that warm feeling, like a security blanket over your heart.

This apartment was smaller than the last, you couldn’t afford to spend your one paycheck on two extra bedrooms you didn’t need. Instead, you’d stuffed your office supplies inside the smaller second bedroom. Eventually this place would feel like home and it wouldn’t haunt you with memories in every corner. It was blissfully blank.

Ella was coming out for her final dress fitting tomorrow and you’d be joining her for your own. You’d been eating one too many pieces of chocolate recently so you were a little concerned it wouldn’t fit quite right, but maybe if you sucked in enough it would work out.

You sat on the side of your tub, brushing your teeth languidly as you thought. Apartments were eerily quiet when you lived in them alone. Granted, you lived on the top floor all the way at the end so you really only had to worry about one wall, and that neighbor was apparently some kind of producer, so he was never there.

You missed the noise of another person, though. The thought overwhelmed you suddenly, the vast emptiness of it all and your eyes stung as they filled with tears. Crying with toothpaste slathered all over your mouth was not the look you were going for so you quickly rinsed out your mouth before sitting back on the edge of the tub.

You knew you were still young, still had time, but it honestly felt like a ticking time bomb. You weren’t getting any younger, already close to turning 31 and you felt like your dreams of the future you had were slipping from between your fingertips.

Your dreams with Jimin were gone, like ash in the wind. That you would have to let go of…but to be in love, to be a mother…those were difficult pills to swallow. Tonight, like many other nights before, you wondered what would have happened if Jungkook hadn’t turned you down. Would you be in love? Would you be married and have children?

You supposed it was silly to wonder if you’d be in love, you’d never seen the universe pair people up incorrectly, even if it seemed like maybe it had at first. Jimin said he’d had a couple of soulmates in his office before, but you’d never seen it yourself and you just wondered if that was just that those individuals were unwilling to work with anyone.

If you and Jungkook had given each other a chance…well, maybe you could have been magical. It was futile to still think about it, even though he was back in your life. There was no way of really knowing if that was something he even wanted. Sure, he’d seemed apologetic and like he wanted to make amends…but perhaps that was just to satiate his guilt, or maybe he felt sorry about losing your friendship or perhaps you were only a backup plan, in case he couldn’t find anyone else better.

You scoffed, standing from the edge of the tub and rinsing off your toothbrush before flipping off the bathroom lights and heading back into your bedroom. You wiped at your cheeks, willing yourself to stop crying. It didn’t help anything to mope and it certainly didn’t help to imagine things you couldn’t possibly know.

You slipped under the covers, pulling them up to your chin and staring out into the dark across your mattress, feeling far emptier than it had in a long time. It may have been foolish to imagine all those things, but no one ever communicated that to your heart and she loved to mourn what she’d never even had.

It was the perfect day to wear a sundress. You’d shaved your legs, scrubbed your face from any puffiness from crying and were now sat outside a nearby café waiting for Ella and your mom to arrive. Late summer was beautiful and you let the sun warm your legs as you sought shelter under your table’s umbrella, running your fingers across the metal of the chair.

You were tired this morning. Negative thoughts had kept you awake for most of the night, but with a dress appointment and work later tonight, you wouldn’t have much of an opportunity to make up for it.

Across the street you saw your mom’s car pull into a parking spot and you waved as she and your sister both stepped from the car, scanning the sidewalk for you. They smiled, waving back, before making their way to the crosswalk and you waited patiently.

“Sweetheart!” Your mom called and you stood, reaching out to hug her as they got closer.

She held you close, a little too tight and warm for the weather, but you sunk into the embrace. She only lived an hour away, but you hadn’t seen her much recently and with everything going on, you were exhausted and just needed to hug your mom.

“How are you?” She asked, standing back and rubbing her thumb across your cheek. “You look tired.”

You smiled, soft, shaking your head at her. “I’m ok. Didn’t sleep well last night. Morning, Ella!”

Ella squealed, flinging her arms out for a hug and you chuckled as she embraced you. “I’m so excited! It’s almost here!”

“I know,” you agreed, “I can hardly believe it. Feels like just yesterday we were little kids and you were stealing all my clothes.”

Ella chuckled, grabbing your hand and leading you back towards the table. She took her seat across from you with your mother in the middle and set her purse delicately in her lap before replying. “Well, now you’re always dressed in scrubs. I think it’s safe to say my fashion sense is better than yours.”

You smiled, shrugging, “I don’t know, this dress is pretty cute.”

“True.” Ella admitted, “You live too far to steal from now, though.”

“Remind me when you’re coming back home again?” Your mother asked, perusing the menu and you picked up your own to start looking.

“The day before the wedding. It’s pretty hard to get more time off right now.”

“I can’t believe you’re going to miss my bachelorette party.” Ella pouted, sipping at the water the waiter dropped off.

“I know,” you sighed, closing your menu. You’d been to this place a few times and always got the same thing; you weren’t sure why you kept checking the menu as if something would have changed. “I really wanted to go, but they’ll already be down an anesthesiologist that week so they really can’t afford to let me go for too long.”

“Are you ladies ready to order?” Your server asked, pen and paper ready and after you’d ordered and handed over your menu’s, conversation resumed.

“So, what’s dad doing right now? Laying around in his boxers?” You asked and your mother laughed.

“Most likely.”

“Gross.” Ella scoffed and your mother poked her in the side.

“Hey now, I happen to really enjoy that view.”

“Double gross!” Ella complained and you sipped at your lemonade. It was nice being with your family again, even though your father was currently not here. It had been months since you’d seen them all together, months since you’d had enough time saved up to take off and drive home for a few days. You were trying to get as much guided experience as you could while you still had someone supervising your every move. Taking extra time off just wasn’t reasonable right now.

“Is Michael at work today?” You asked, watching as your sister thanked the waiter and sipped at the martini he’d just brandished.

“Yeah, I didn’t want him here anyway. It’s bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding. I don’t need any bad juju on my special day.”

“You don’t really believe in that stuff, do you?” Your mother teased and Ella nodded earnestly.

“Totally! I’ve got my apartment all set up to invite positive feng shui in and I do yoga every morning and night. It’s really brought a lot of clarity to my mind.”

“I should probably do some yoga.” You mused, staring off across the street at nothing in particular. “Could use some relaxation.”

“Maybe a massage would be better,” your mom grinned, “last time I tried yoga, I pulled a hamstring.”

“Well, you obviously weren’t doing it right.” Ella huffed, “It’s meant to center your mind, not hurt you.”

“Tell that to the high lunge.” She giggled.

The dress shop was beautifully air conditioned. You could feel a bead of sweat sink into your bra and you grimaced. Ella looked like she’d walked straight into heaven, the lady at the door greeting the three of you with water bottles and a smile.

You took the proffered bottle from its tray, gulping half of it down before following after the woman in charge of your sisters dress alterations. She rambled on excitedly about the recent finishing touches to your dresses and you nodded as though you were listening, walking into the backroom where small changing rooms were draped in white curtains for privacy.

“Your dress is just over here.” She directed, showing Ella to the large bridal room and Ella followed after with a squeal of delight. Her dress was draped elegantly over the bodice of a mannequin that honestly did the lace no justice and you watched your sister flit like a bird around every side to inspect the work.

“Your beading is so exquisite, Darcy.” She cried warmly and the seamstress hummed happily.

“Let’s try it on, shall we?”

Ella nodded enthusiastically, dropping her (most likely expensive) purse unceremoniously on the floor and beginning to strip from her clothing. Darcy chuckled, closing the draping quickly so your sister could get ready in privacy.

Both your mother and yourself sat on a bench against the wall opposite and chatted softly while you waited; listening to the little gasps and squeaks of your sister as she was fastened into her gown.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” She called over the top of the curtain and your mother shouted out her enthusiasm to see it.

Darcy pulled back the curtain and your mother gasped, running to meet your sister where she stood on a pedestal looking like a princess. “You look so beautiful!” She said, already teary eyed and you walked to meet them with a smile, rubbing the soft lace of your sister’s dress gently between the tips of your fingers.

“You look like a princess.” You agreed and Ella beamed.

“It’s perfect.” She sighed, twirling the skirt and eyeing herself in the mirror. “I feel like I’m living in a fairytale.”

“Let’s get you ladies in your dresses as well and see if we need to do anymore tune ups.” Darcy said and both you and your mother walked to your own dressing rooms to be helped into your dresses. Your dress was a lavender floor length with off the shoulder sleeves and it made you feel unreasonably beautiful.

“You look gorgeous.” Ella whispered and you turned to find her behind you, surveying the fabric of your dress. “If I didn’t know that Michael was so obsessed with me I’d be concerned.”

You chuckled, shaking your head at her. “Don’t be ridiculous. No one will even know I’m in the room if you’re there. You look gorgeous; Michael is gonna die.”

“Do you think it fits me well?” She murmured and you smiled, nodding.

“Like a glove.”

“Look at my girls.” Your mother crowed, walking towards you in a dress like your own. “You both look so beautiful.”

“We get it from our mom.” Ella teased and your mother laughed.

“And don’t you forget it!”

“How do your dresses feel?” Darcy asked, approaching your circle. “Any modifications?” She pinched at the fabric of your dress as she surveyed the fit and you allowed her to manhandle you.

“Actually, my dress feels like it fits perfectly, as long as I don’t gain any weight.” You smoothed your fingers down the silk idly.

Darcy moved on to the other two dresses, pinching and surveying as she went and you twisted in the mirror to see the back of the dress.

“You said you work later tonight, right?” Ella asked as she was led back to her own dressing room and you followed.

“Yeah, I work at 5pm. I’ll have to leave as soon as we’re done with this fitting.”

Darcy waved one of the other attendings over, “Can you assess her dress? She’s running on a time limit.”

The woman nodded, ushering you back to your own dressing room and you stood up on the little stool in the center so that she could go over the details of your dress one final time before the wedding.

“So you’ve got somewhere to be soon?” She asked casually, sitting down beside the end of your dress with a pin between her teeth.

“Ah, yeah, I’ve got work later. I’m an anesthesiologist at the hospital.”

“You must be very busy,” She hummed and you nodded, watching her work.

“Yeah, I mean, it can definitely get crazy sometimes. I guess we’ll see how everything goes tonight.” You mused.

“I’m rooting for you.” She smiled up at you.

It wasn’t very often that the hospital was still. It was eerie in its solitude. Empty hallways, the nurse’s station busy with conversation. You were back in the maternity ward this evening. Not many rooms were occupied tonight; no babies ready to be born. You had one caesarean scheduled in two hours and a whole lot of free time.

You could hear the cry of a baby in a room as you passed; disquietude with its currently mortal journey. “Bored?” One of the nurses called and you smiled with a nod, “Come chat.” She waved you over and you complied with ease.

“How are you, Jane?” You inquired softly. Jane was young, mid-twenties, and fresh with enthusiasm. Her hair was wild in its bun, like she’d thrown it up in a hurry, but she smiled bright and that comforted you.

“I’m great,” she beamed, twisting the engagement ring around her finger idly. “Josh and I just put an offer in on a house!”

“That’s amazing!” You smiled, leaning across the desk. “I wish I could afford a house, but my apartment will have to do for now.”

“Honestly, the only reason we could afford to do it is because Josh sold that app he was developing. Got 3 million for it. Crazy, right?”

“3 million?” You spluttered, “Oh my gosh, I wish I could develop an app.”

Jane laughed, “Me too, but I have no talent for that sort of thing.”

“Me neither.” You mused.

“So how have you been, Y/N? I heard about you and Jimin. I’m so sorry.”

Your heart seized at the mention of his name, but you mustered a smile; you knew she meant well. Jane didn’t have an unkind bone in her body.

“I’m OK,” you answered honestly, “work keeps me pretty distracted. It’s just gonna take some time to learn my new normal.”

“I’m sorry I brought it up,” Jane frowned, “That was thoughtless of me.”

“It’s OK,” you reassured, “I know you, Jane, you didn’t mean any harm.”

“Just because I meant well doesn’t mean it was right. I’m sorry. I wish I could ease the pain.”

“I wish you could too,” you chuckled, “You sure Josh is the one? Not me?”

Jane giggled, “That’s what my wrist says, anyway.” She tapped at her tattoo and you grinned.

“Dang. He’s a lucky guy.” You sighed deep. “Well, I’m gonna go sit in the break room for a bit and rest my feet.”

“Get yourself a snack, too!” She called and you waved a goodbye.

The breakroom was quiet when you entered, one resident sprawled prostrate across the couch as its only occupant. You made your way to the vending machine, peering into the spirals, chaining snacks in place. Nothing of real substance; but there were pretzels.

After retiring to the couch with your snack, you allowed the silence to wash over you. It still didn’t feel real that Jimin was no longer around. Even in a new apartment, his absence was like a nail in your heart. You wondered if you’d ever feel better. Ever feel normal again.

Maybe if Jungkook- no, there was no point in thinking that way. He’d made his decision, you just needed to let that go. You couldn’t hold on to someone you weren’t even sure wanted you back. It was just another kind of heartache you didn’t need right now.

Back in high school you could have never imagined this future. A future in which your enemy was your soulmate and you were the one that was sad that he didn’t want to try for…more. It was frustrating just how devastated that made you feel.

The crunch of your pretzels filled your head like a drum and you stared absentmindedly at the ceiling. You could hear the soft snores of the sleeping resident and you wished that you could be like him. So many people said eventually you’d be able to just tune it all out and fall asleep, but you preferred the comfort of a bed and a couch that gave you a crick in the neck would never do.

The door to the breakroom opened and Jungkook walked sluggishly inside. He hadn’t noticed you, fiddling with something in the pocket of his scrubs. He walked up to survey the vending machine and you took the opportunity to watch him.

He looked tired; the kind of worn you could only get from working 18 straight hours without rest. His shoulders sagged with his fatigue and his eyelids drooped. He settled on a bag of chips before turning and spotting you.

“Oh. I didn’t see you there,” he walked towards you, motioning to the spot beside you. “Do you mind if I-?”

You shook your head, motioning for him to sit down and he slumped into the seat with a puff of exhaustion. “Long day?”

“The longest.” He nodded, slowly opening his bag of chips and munching on the end of one as his vision blurred on the floor.

“How long have you been here?” You asked softly, hoping your voice wasn’t loud enough to wake the sleeping resident on the opposite couch.

Jungkook shrugged, eyes still trained on the tile floor. “Probably 16 hours, maybe longer. I’m honestly not sure what time it is.”

You glanced down at your watch, humming. “It’s 9pm.”

He was slouched, docile like a doll in the lumpy cushions of the couch beneath you and you smiled down at him. You remembered how exhausted you were when you very first started. You were still exhausted most of the time, but now it was like a film over a window pane that you’d become accustomed to.

“How long does the exhaustion last for?” He asked, looking over at you and you shrugged.

“Probably forever.” You mumbled and he frowned.

“Encouraging.”

You chuckled, staring right back. “Sorry. To be fair, the load does lessen and it’s easier to function like a human, but it takes time. We’ve all got to put in our grunt work; it makes you appreciate things more.”

“Life’s never easy.” He nodded, tracing the edges of his chip bag. “I definitely agree that timing is everything and sometimes if you have to wait for something for a long time and work really hard for it…it’s more worthwhile because you’ve earned it. You know?”

He turned to look at you and suddenly you felt like his question was more than just surface level. “What if you work for something and you never end up getting it?” You asked softly. “You work so hard for so long and have these big dreams and it just…never materializes?”

“Then I suppose it wasn’t meant to be.”

“It seems like even destiny has become a liar at times.” You sighed, but you couldn’t look away from him.

Jungkook shook his head, “I think sometimes it just takes a little longer for fate to work its magic.”

“Maybe,” you mumble, watching as his eyes traced along the shape of your face, “Jungkook, I-”

Suddenly, someone is yawning loudly and you jumped, turning to see the resident you’d completely forgotten about sitting up, scrubbing at his face tiredly. Dr. Amari smiled over at you, grin lopsided and drooping with fatigue.

“Evening Dr. Y/N, Dr. Jeon. That power nap was exactly what I needed.” He groaned, adjusting himself on the coach so that he was no longer on his front before pulling the table beside him forward and rifling through pages he’d apparently left there before falling asleep.

Jungkook chuckled to himself softly before standing and adjusting his scrubs. “I should go. I only had a few minutes to rest anyway. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You nodded, mute, and watched as he left back out the door he’d come in. The room returned to its previous solitude and you sighed. It was going to be such a long night.

Next chapter is THE chapter so look forward to that!

Let me know what you think, my loves <3

Chapter 14

Chapter 16

#jungkook scenario #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #btsbookclub

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we-are-inevitable · 4 years ago

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modern art // javid (ch. 1)

A/N: hi !! so some of you may remember an old songfic i did in march of last year, titled ‘modern art’ after the song “IDK You Yet” by Alexander 23. well, i’ve always thought that that one shot would work great as a stand alone fic, and here we are! i have ch. 1 edited and SO MUCH of it as changed- like, for example, the fic is a chapter fic now !! regardless, i hope you guys like this !!

WARNINGS: depression, anxiety, self-deprecation, past addiction, mentions of addiction, just general Bad Times- pls be mindful when reading !! it’s just very Not Happy rn ADDITIONAL INFO: all characters are in their mid-twenties in the fic. oh also this is probably important but it’s a soulmate au !!

Read On AO3!

tag list: @bound-for-santa-fe @wannabecowboypunk @shippingcannons @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @smallsies @deliciouspeachpirate @newsies-is-my-erster

Jack doesn't know what’s going on with himself, but he knows that he could really use his soulmate right about now.

They’ve communicated before. Never verbally, and never enough to reveal who they were. Perhaps they are both just... dealing with some unspoken fears, dealing with the worry of rejection sitting heavy in their chests. Perhaps they both like this mystery- the uncertainty that came with the notes scrawled across their bodies in a handwriting that isn’t their own.

Or perhaps they just aren’t ready to take the plunge. To grow up and face the harsh fact that, as soon as they meet, wherever and whenever that may be, a new chapter of their life will unfold. Consume them. Change anything and everything they’ve ever known or held dear.

They had been braver when they were children, that much was true. Jack remembers staying up late often, writing notes on his skin and watching in awe as the replies appeared. He remembers the giddy rush of trying to quickly wash off the ink on his wrist when they ran out of space to talk, and, oh, how they talked. There were school days when Jack would go to class exhausted, feeling like he’d been walking through quicksand for miles on end, but all of it had been worth it. The exhaustion he felt had been worth being able to talk to them until two, three, four in the morning. Sometimes he regretted it, of course, but only because it was harder for him to focus in class. Never because he was upset at them.

He could never be upset with them.

Even now, Jack remembers a lot about his soulmate. They liked music. They knew how to play the piano. They were into a few video games, even some that Jack had never played, and said that they always tried carrying a book with them wherever they went. Jack remembers that, as a younger kid, they liked Harry Potter and Percy Jackson, but also liked analyzing Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe and a bunch of other fancy authors that Jack had never even heard of. They were intimidatingly smart, and sometimes, would carefully correct Jack’s grammar whenever he misspelled a word or something- but they were never mean about it, they were just… there. A steady presence that he could count on.

Fifteen year old Jack dreamed of finding them one day. But now, twenty-five year old Jack is losing hope.

He can’t exactly help it. For starters, he and his soulmate haven’t communicated in… well, shit, it had to be nearly a year. Maybe nine months or so, but there’s no way to tell for sure, and even then, their conversations since reaching adulthood have been dull, for lack of a better word. A few positive comments here, a ‘have a good day’ there- it’s all so mundane, and neither of them can be blamed for it. They both have busy lives- or, well, Jack does, at least. His job as a graphic designer is hard enough on its own, but the added pressure of doing freelance work and commissions on the side has been eating away at him for weeks, coupled with debilitating self-doubt and lack of motivation for… anything.

Saying that he’s overwhelmed is the understatement of the century.

There is always another design, another client, another meeting, another deadline, another sleepless night as he stares at a blank canvas and prays for a spark of inspiration from whatever God is listening. Usually his inspiration comes from the world around him- his friends, city life, even the quiet confines of his apartment, but right now... Jack is stuck. He had holed himself up in his room days ago, trying and failing to get out of bed every morning when the time came to work- and thank God that the majority of his work could be done from home. His boss was understanding, too, to an extent.

Still, though, there’s a constant heavy weight on his chest that prevents him from moving most days, and he’s lucky if he even gets up long enough to shower or eat or do literally anything aside from lie in silence and count the cracks in his ceiling.

Nothing had happened to him recently to bring this on, from what he can tell. Jack has always been the happy-go-lucky leader, the man with a plan, the guy who always knew just what to say to motivate others into doing the best thing for themselves, but when that responsibility is reflected back onto himself, Jack feels helpless. There are words waiting to be said, sketches waiting to be drawn, designs waiting to be sent to clients… yet Jack lies there, motionless in his room for three days before he even has the energy, the willpower, to pull back his curtains and allow the sunlight to shine through. There is so much he wants to do, so much he needs to do, but he can't bring himself to do any of it.

In all twenty-five years of his life, through all of the things he’s been through, the ups and downs and foster homes and graduations and birthdays and funerals and therapists and rehab facilities and whatever the fuck else life decided to throw at him, Jack has never felt so worthless, so… lonely. His closest friends are all moving on with their lives. Many have already found their soulmate, have settled down and hidden their rowdy, rambunctious pasts behind skeletons in a closet. They’d all gotten their adventures done and over with in high school and college, and most are moving onto bigger and better things in life. They have careers. Families. Some have children, others have pets, a few have an insane amount of plants to care for.

All have seemingly left Jack behind in the dust.

No one told him when to flip the switch.

No one told him when he had aged out of adventure.

Now, they would never say it, but Jack knows. He knows. Saturday hangouts and trips to the bar had been replaced by Sunday church services and playdates for the kids. Rather than hearing yelling from his living room after his friends had all been teetering just on the edge between tipsy and fucked up, Jack hears the news, and documentaries, and podcasts, and the ghosts of a past life that he still seemed to be desperately clinging on to.

Katherine had been the one to tell him that he needed to grow up, though she didn’t put it in such a blunt manner. No, she’s just.... gently urging him to find a bigger apartment, or buy matching furniture from a place that is not a thrift store, or purchase dishes that weren’t of the plastic Walmart brand. She says it was because she wants to see him in a more professional, "adulty" lifestyle, but he knows it’s really because she can see that he’s a mess.

Deep down, Jack knows she’s right. She’s always right.

He just can’t help but feel cemented in place, dreaming of the past while dreading the new future ahead of him.

Jack never asked to feel so broken for no reason. All of the hope and optimism he had felt as a teenager was gone, lost in a sea of uncertain plans and shitty jobs and bill extensions and canvases dropped onto the floor with no rhyme or reason. And, yes, maybe Jack would look dramatic to someone who didn’t know his situation, but Jack knows what dramatic feels like. Dramatic feels like watching his best friend, Charlie, belt onstage in front of a backdrop that he helped create for the school play. Dramatic feels like laughing at the top of his lungs while walking through a random gas station at two in the morning, joined by Race and Al, all while higher than a kite. Dramatic feels like driving to the outskirts of the city with Katherine, climbing onto the roof of an old building and screaming about all of their stress, their anxiety, their insecurities, just to have some form of emotional release.

Dramatic doesn’t feel like sadness. It’s not supposed to.

Not for Jack.

He had been so… so happy, as a teenager. Proud and defiant and carefree. He was the kind of guy to skate and smoke weed in Central Park until midnight and take a math test at eight in the morning the next day. He was the kid who stood on a table in the cafeteria and came out as bisexual to everyone around him, just because of a dumbass bet that he didn’t even get paid for. He was the boy who wasn’t at all good in an academic sense, but who always knew how to talk himself out of trouble, who always came up with the most ridiculous- or most believable- lies to cover his ass when he needed it, who was always the class favorite, the teacher’s pet without meaning to be.

Jack had felt on top of the world back then, but now he’s struggling to even get off of the ground. The longer time goes on, the more lost Jack feels inside his own life. He feels like something was missing, something big. Something bigger than himself.

When his mother was alive, which now felt like lifetimes ago, she would often echo this old wives’ tale about how it’s best to find your soulmate while you’re younger, just to save them- and yourself- the pain of being alone for a long time. Jack had always kind of believed her; logically, he knew it was true, but he had always told himself that it wouldn’t happen to him. That he would be fine alone, though it wouldn’t be ideal, and that he would have plenty of time for soulmates after he got out and made a name for himself.

He’s starting to think, though, that maybe she was right. Maybe Jack had waited too long to make a move, to make contact again, because now, he just feels nauseous even thinking about it.

Don’t get him wrong, he knows the negative effects of self deprecation and not taking his own mental health seriously, he’s been to rehab before, blah, blah, blah, but, fuck, how could he put his soulmate through something like this? This fucked up state of mind he has now. Jack can’t even imagine talking to Katherine about this, and Katherine had been his best friend for over a decade. He can’t just meet his soulmate now- it’s been too long, he’s too messed up, they won’t like him, they’ll hate him for not trying hard enough, and Jack will just end up alone again, wasting away in his bedroom because no one fucking cares. No one cares. He has nobody.

That’s not true. He has Medda, his mom, his savior, his impulse control, but the thought of telling her that everything is acting up again makes him want to scream. He has Tony, but Tony has Al, and Tony and Al have a kid- a sweet little five year old girl who calls Jack ‘Uncle Jackie’ and takes no shit from anyone. He has Katherine, but Katherine has her soulmate- this dude named Darcy, who Jack doesn’t have much of an opinion on because they just met, like, a month ago, and Jack hasn’t exactly been emotionally ready for a hangout session between the three of them. He also has Charlie, and Charlie has certainly seen him in worse times- like when Jack was kind of hooked on pills for the entirety their freshman year of college- but Charlie has grad school to worry about and Charlie would hate him if he bothered him with this.

Still, there are other people who would listen, probably. He could easily talk to Elmer, or Romeo, or Specs, or Jojo or Finch or Sean or a fucking therapist but that’s just it, isn’t it? If he talks, he burdens, and Jack Francisco Kelly would rather run himself into the ground than be a burden anyone.

So, he makes a vow.

He makes eye contact with his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He’s gripping onto the sink, holding on for dear life, as he stares into his own sunken eyes. He takes in his appearance. Damp, messy hair, falling down to cover his forehead. Pale skin, which isn’t normal at all. Dark circles have taken their place around his eyes, and his smile- one of his favorite things about himself- is… nonexistent.

Distantly, Jack registers himself dumping a full bottle of ibuprofen into the sink. And then, he does the same thing with the bottle of melatonin from his medicine cabinet. The valium follows. He lets the water run for a long time. It's not that he doesn't trust himself- he'd done so, so good in rehab, and he doesn't even feel urges that often anymore- but it's better safe than sorry, especially since he's like... this.

This is not the Jack Kelly he’s used to anymore. This is not the Jack Kelly he wants to be.

But this Jack Kelly is the one who vows not to reach out. The one who vows to only answer when his soulmate is ready, and maybe not even then.

He doesn’t have to wait long, though.

Not when a heart appears on the back of his hand the next morning.

It’s there when Jack wakes up, and, honestly, it almost brings Jack to tears- but not necessarily for happy reasons. Sure, Jack wants to be happy. Who wouldn’t be happy after seeing something like this? A lopsided heart drawn in red ink, right on the back of his left hand- it was the definition of a symbol, of a romantic gesture, and Jack wants so badly to write back, to strike up conversation, to draw a goddamn heart, but… he can’t.

He can’t, and that’s horrible of him, and he knows it.

Right now, though… Jack can’t even work up the courage, the energy, to call his mom.

His soulmate, whoever they are, is going to have to wait.

#if u wanna be added to my tag list just let me know !!#newsies #jack kelly #david jacobs #davey jacobs #javid #javey #newsies broadway #newsies musical #newsies fic #newsies fanfiction #newsies fanfic #livesies #toursies #jac writes #jac txt.

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kamino-ink · 6 years ago

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Sweet Tooth | Hwang Hyunjin

✧ Genre: Soulmate!au, sickly sweet fluff

✧ Summary: While most of your friends are connected to their soulmates by tattoos, dreams, or voices inside their heads, you are connected to yours by taste; it wouldn’t seem so bad if it wasn’t for the fact everything they ate was sweet.

✧ Word Count: 2.6k

✧ Want to read other parts of this series? Check out my masterlist!

✧

“Y/N sweetheart, why aren’t you eating?”

You let out a loud groan of despair at the innocent question, burying your face into the palms of your heads in utter frustration. The rest of your rather large family sat at the table looked at you either in amusement or confusion.

“She’s binded to her soulmate by taste - they apparently never stop eating sweets.” Your mother explains to the ones who are confused, glancing over at your slumped form sympathetically.

Here’s the thing; you really wanted to like whoever your soulmate was, but they never seemed to eat anything that didn’t have some sort of sweet taste to them. If they were snacking on strawberries, there had to be chocolate on them - if they were eating an entire meal there had to be at least a hint of sweetness to it, it was like you could never catch a break.

In the beginning it wasn’t so bad, since you were an avid picky eater and usually refused to eat anything you didn’t think you’d like. Your soulmate started out the same way, but as you both presumably got older, they started to really branch out and try anything given to them. Octopus, kimchi, even fucking bugs, they had involuntarily made you try it as well. As a kid you hated it, but when you got older you realized how cool it was to be able to taste so many new foods without actually eating them, and now you had quite the extensive palette.

A few months ago, your soulmate had eaten something so sweet it had you gagging it was packed with so much flavor, and then it kept happening until you figured out this person had a hellish case of sweet tooth. Funnily enough, you used to crave sweets after dinner or for a snack, but now you avoided them as much as you possibly could. Even now in the midst of a family reunion your soulmate had began to snack on goddamn sugar cubes, effectively spoiling your appetite.

“Honestly that’s probably the weirdest bond between soulmates I've ever heard of - and let me tell you, I've heard of some really freaky ones.”

“I know, Jisung. You’re lucky, you’re bonded through dreams. You guys get to dream about each other every night while I’m stuck with someone obsessed with sweets.”

Jisung laughs at your adorable pout of misery, his hand reaching over to playfully mess up your hair while Seungmin watched you both with glazed over eyes, the tiniest of smirks curled onto his lips. The three of you always stuck together like glue no matter what, even in school. You and Jisung had advanced placement history class right now, but Seungmin had signed up with your teacher to be his assistant just so he could be in the same class, essentially.

There was one other person in your trio of friends, a boy your age named Felix. Him and his soulmate were bonded together with the gift of being able to see whatever the other person saw when they wanted to. According to the freckled boy, whenever he closed his eyes and decided to open the barrier between them, he was able to see everything his soulmate was looking at in that very moment.

“Hey, where’s Lix?” You asked the two boys in front of you nonchalantly, picking at your nails in boredom as you blocked out the sounds of your peers chatting away with one another before class started. “The bell rings in a minute. If he’s late again he’s going to get detention.”

Both Jisung and Seungmin shrugged, clearly showing that neither of them knew where the last part of your group was either. Once the bell rang you whipped out your phone, sending a few concerned texts to your friend before you shoved it back into your backpack so you wouldn’t get caught with it.

‘yo pineapple head, where tf are you??’

‘lix the teacher is going to castrate you if you’re late again!!’

‘imma laugh when you get detention sorry dude’

Ten minutes later the door was opened, catching yours and everyone else’s attention as Felix walked into the classroom looking as calm and collected as ever. Following the freckled boy was a boy you had never seen before, and by the baffled expressions of your classmates, you could tell that none of them knew who this guy was either.

“Sorry I’m late teach, I was told by the principal to show the new kid to all of his classes.” He explained while everyone else in the classroom watched in wonder, clearly eyeing the new kid up and down. Hell you couldn’t really blame them, the new guy was incredibly handsome and obviously had a unique sense of fashion; wearing a long sleeved, white polo shirt with a cropped, black leather jacket and black jeans with tears in them.

When Felix gestured for the boy to follow him towards your table, you quickly averted your gaze back to Jisung, making sure you weren’t seen as you playfully wiggle your eyebrows at him. The blonde rolled his eyes at your antics, only to replace his pursed lips with a welcoming smile as Felix sandwiched the new kid between your body and his own.

“Um, hi,” the newcomer spoke softly at first, clearing his throat to speak a bit louder when the boy beside him nudged his arm encouragingly, “I’m Hyunjin. Felix said it was okay for me to stick with you all, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, of course its fine - but I’ll let you in on a secret,” you pause for dramatic effect, leaning in closer to his ear as you whispered, “those three are fucking idiots with no common sense, just follow my lead and you won’t be like them.”

Hyunjin snickered quietly at your diss, watching as the three other boys sat at the table pouted their lips in your direction as if they knew exactly what you were saying under your breath. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“Hyunjin, how in the world do you manage to get all of your work done?” You question him with a whine, letting out a satisfied sigh as you lean against his chair and pop your back. He simply put one of his fingers up to his plush lips in reply, tossing a ball of wadded up paper at your head.

“A magician never reveals his secrets, Y/N.”

You huff in annoyance at his secretive reply, wincing when the wad of notebook paper hits the top of your head. You reach down to grab it and throw it back to him forcefully, a snicker escaping your lips when it makes contact with his forehead and the dramatic boy plops down onto his bed with a groan of fake pain.

You weren’t quite sure how the two of you had grown so close to each other in such a little amount of time, if you counted two months of knowing each other not a lot of time. The bubbly boy had almost every single class with you and the other boys in the close-knit group of friends, so it wasn’t exactly hard to become close with him. Thing is, a lot of other people tried to get close with him during that period of time as well, although it was painfully obvious how they were only interested in his good looks and incredible sense of fashion.

Speaking of which, you learned that he actually got a majority of his clothes from a thrift store and either left them as is or redesigned them into whatever he wanted them to be. Ever since then you’d decided to tag along with him whenever he went thrifting - which was literally four times a week - just to keep him company since the rest of your group usually had other things to do. Still, Hyunjin somehow managed to go to work, finish his schoolwork, and thrift so often without breaking a sweat; you were dead set on figuring out how he did it.

From the corner of your eye you spot the black haired boy sneaking something out of what appeared to be a plastic baggy tucked underneath one of his pillows, stuffing it into his mouth before you could even attempt to identify whatever it was. A small, almost miniscule sense of something sweet hit your tongue, but you ignore it in favor of keeping focused.

With another exasperated huff you lean back into his chair, watching him chew on his mysterious snack while he typed something onto his computer for one of your history assignments.

He was one of the most attractive boys you had ever laid your eyes on, that much was for certain. Hyunjin radiated a strange sort of warmth and genuine friendliness that rarely was seen in such a time of desperateness, with most of the population hellbent on finding their soulmate before they grew old. Yet Hyunjin seemed perfectly content with not finding his other half, so much in fact that he tended to veer away from conversations about soulmate connections.

Watching the diligent boy work so eagerly, his eyes wide in a shining curiosity that never did seem to diminish, you wondered what his soulmate was doing. Perhaps they were as beautiful as he was, or as intelligent and hardworking as Hyunjin was - whoever it was, you couldn’t help but feel jealous of. There were times where you wished you were Hyunjin’s soulmate, in all honesty.

Whoever was connected to him was extremely lucky.

I am going to kill Han Jisung.

You think silently to yourself, glaring daggers at the all too amused, proud blonde sat snuggly in-between Felix and Seungmin, who both were looking just as amused by your situation. Tonight was movie-night, a night where all five of you got together at someone’s house and randomly picked a movie from Netflix to watch. This particular night was being hosted by Hyunjin, which wouldn’t have been an issue if you hadn’t already been wearing his clothes as pajamas after your long-winded study session.

The second those three sauntered into his house and spotted you, you knew they were going to pull something cheesy and ridiculous, but you hadn’t been expecting this.

You and Hyunjin were left to be smooshed together on the loveseat while the other three made it completely impossible for anyone else to sit on the couch, awkwardly stretching their limbs over each other’s bodies for good measure.

“H-hey Y/N, do you - do you mind if I just-” Hyunjin stutters to himself, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson red as he stretches his arms around you and pulls your back into his chest, giving you both a bit more room on the tiny loveseat.

“N-no, its fine.” You say with a furious blush, thanking the gods that he couldn’t witness the dusty pink color painting your cheeks at his actions.

Throughout the entirety of the movie you were snuggled up into his chest with his chin resting on your shoulder, his soft breaths tickling your sensitive skin. Anytime something funny occurred you could feel his chest moving with his adorable laughter, and whenever something scary popped up onto the television screen he would tightly squeeze you closer to his body as if you could protect him from the fictional ghosts.

You hated how nice it felt to be so close to him, because with each second that passed you could only fall even harder for him - if that was even possible.

You were so fucked.

“Lix, I can’t go bowling today - I am at work, that’s why!” You hiss into your phone, thankful that there were only maybe three customers in the shop at the moment. Felix was insisting that you all were supposed to go bowling today, but apparently Hyunjin had ditched so he could go to some shop he wanted to check out for a while now, and you were stuck at work.

The bell hanging above the door to the bakery opens and you glance over for just a split second, feeling your lips part in surprise at who walks in. “Uh, another customer just came in Felix, sorry, bye!”

“Ah, is Felix pestering you about the bowling trip too?” The new arrival inquires with a smirk, propping his elbows up onto the marble counter.

“Yep. I bet Jisung is blowing up my messages too, but I am not looking at them.” You laugh, blushing when the still smirking boy leans in even closer from across the countertop, his gaze boring into yours.

Did he want you to turn the color of a tomato? Was he planning to just bother you during your shift?

“I want something sweet, babe.” He hums after a moment of keeping solid eye contact with you, though he doesn’t refrain from keeping so close to you. You flush at the nickname, your breath just nearly catching in your throat in shock.

Without a word you nod in compliance, not wanting to give the smug looking boy the satisfaction of knowing that he could so easily make you a pink, flustered mess. “How sweet?”

“Give me the sweetest thing on the menu - besides you, of course.”

Holy fuck he was going to make your heart explode talking like that. You nod once more, turning your back to him as you go to shuffle through the freshest batches of cupcakes you had in stock. Vanilla? No, that’s just bland. Strawberry with cream? Eh, too basic.

Aha! You think victoriously to yourself, tentively reaching out to grab a chocolate cupcake with vanilla icing and a chocolate covered cherry on top - and it was covered in rainbow sprinkles. It was the newest edition to the menu, and it was a hit with most of your customers; surely Hyunjin would like it.

You hand him the cupcake with a soft smile, tilting your head in curiosity when he hands you the money, but stays in his spot at the counter. He takes a bit of the sickly sweet cupcake, watching everything you do.

That’s when it hits you - that all too familiar taste of something so sweet that you wanted to scream.

“Hm? What’s wrong Y/N, too sweet for you?” Hyunjin snickers, though when you look up in complete and utter shock you can see just how red his cheeks have become, and how he’s clearly growing more nervous by the second, his feet tapping on the floor quickly.

“What - what do you mean?” You ask him, though you already know exactly what he means. But... but how did he figure it out?

Hyunjin gulps and takes a nervous intake of breath, just barely holding it together. “W-well I remembered that you mentioned something about being connected to your soulmate through taste a while back. I um, I kinda connected the dots when you were drinking that shitty smoothie Seungmin made you drink during truth or dare,” he explains quickly, watching with a smile as your own eyes start to widen in realization and disbelief, “I almost threw up it was so bad. Um, a-anyway, I tested it out by eating some basic things around you, like really hot barbeque chips and spicy chicken-”

“You asshole-”

“I’m sorry, I had to test my theory out somehow! But, like I said, it was kinda obvious after a while that we had the same connection. T-the only reason I didn't act on it sooner was because I didn't want to rush anything. I started to really get to know you and I - I fell in love with you.” He admits softly, making you gasp.

You quickly rush out from behind the counter and throw your arms around the now startled but giggly boy, burying your face into his chest. “I’m so glad its you, Hyunjin.”

“I’m glad its you too, Y/N.”

✧

#skzwriters #stray kids #stray kids au #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin scenario #hyunjin imagine #stray kids fluff #stray kids soulmate au #hyunjin soulmate au

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thatshankcallednewt · 6 years ago

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Newt: Alternate Universe - Spilt Milk

Prompt: You and Newt are soulmates; the soulmate universe where soulmates receive the same injuries as each other.

requested by anonymous

I’ve never heard of this soulmate AU before, so I gave it my best shot. Kept it fluffy (because I’m sick of writing angst), I hope you enjoy reading, and that it follows the AU as much as possible as I was a little unsure by what “injury soulmate au” actually meant! :P

You sat down on the edge of your bed and sighed audibly, your chest rose and fell dramatically as it expelled. It had been a serious week of moving in and organizing the place, so much so that you had forgotten what it felt like to just sit down and breathe calmly.

But it was a good week, nonetheless. It was good to finally have your own space, completely yours.

You let the late afternoon sunshine warm your cheeks as it spilled through the new, soft transparent-white curtains you hung over your bedroom window last night, and you thought about the rest of your day. You wanted to buy a couple of extra mugs for guests and some new bath towels and an indoor drying rack for your washing when the weather becomes gloomy. You figured you would just spend a quiet afternoon looking through some thrift stores and homeware shops near your apartment building, so you grabbed your things up and shoved it all quickly into your bag before locking your front door shut.

When you twisted the keys in the lock and checked that the doorknob wouldn’t twist open, you spun in the direction of the stairs but instead saw your neighbor walking onto your level. You’ve met him a few times now, it was usually a small smile and a nod. The first time you met, you spilled a carton of milk all over the hall. Fortunately, there wasn’t a carpeted rug over the flooring, but it was still quite the mess; you were grateful for his help in cleaning it up despite being such a klutz. You were an immediate sucker for his chocolate brown eyes and golden hair, but what did it was the playful accent, especially when he called out to you in passing.

You started down the hallway and caught eyes with Newt as he neared his own front door. He had his backpack slung over one shoulder and was wearing a blue sweater, he must have been to one of his classes during the morning. He’s mentioned to you before about his study.

He smiled at you, “Y/N, how are ya?”

You smiled back warmly, “Great, what about yourself?”

He nodded, “Great, yeah, great,” he paused and noticed your bag, “headed out?”

“Last minute shopping. I keep thinking of all the random pieces of furniture or homewares I need that I didn’t realize I would need before moving in.”

“Ah yes, I’ve been there. You got enough towels?”

You grinned sheepishly at him, “On my list.”

“Make sure to buy extra soft, may be a little pricier but definitely worth it, otherwise it’ll just be uncomfortably rough within six months.”

You laughed at his advice and shook your head a little, “You got anymore tips for me?”

He thought for a moment, you watched his amused eyes, “Yeah, don’t buy a carton of milk and drop it in the hallway.”

You both laughed at the memory and you shook your head at him again, “I promise it was an accident.”

“I don’t know,” he started suspiciously, “maybe you were trying to distract me so you could scope my place out before you rob me and take off in the middle of the night.”

“Oh, yeah,” you said, “that’s exactly what I was doing.”

He smiled again, and your heart warmed. “Seriously though,” he started again, “how did you manage it?”

You sighed and glanced at the floor before looking back up at him again, “Honestly, I don’t know, I’m usually a little bit un-co but that day my leg kept aching and I think I stepped wrong or something.”

He frowned at this, “Your leg hurt?”

“Yeah,” you held it out now before you, “it’s okay now though. I think it’s nothing, but it’s been like that for a while, I went to the doctor about it and she said that there wasn’t anything wrong with it. It’s just on and off, I guess.”

Newt stared down at your leg in silence, he blinked, and then he found your eyes again, “Yeah… it’s probably nothing.”

You both said your goodbyes as Newt mentioned he had an essay due soon, so you let him get back to studying while you took off for the bunch of stores near your street. You found some nice décor pieces at the thrift stores for cheap prices, so you indulged yourself in that but as you went into the homeware store you were overwhelmed. There were so many items you been eyeing off online but pushed yourself not to buy that it was now harder than ever to stop yourself.

You found the towels and decided on some warm tones and also took Newt’s advice on buying extra soft ones, they did feel nice against your skin.

When you got to the mugs section though, you were floored at all the possible designs you could choose from. You weren’t sure if you should go quirky or colorful, or even comical; you never before realized how much of a task mug-choosing could be. You probably stood there in the aisle for ten minutes straight, just staring at all your options.

Then you finally picked out one, it was a comical one, you could never say no to a cute little pun on a coffee mug, but the satisfaction of making a decision was short-lived as you fumbled with the mug and watched it clatter to the floor; cracking apart.

You stared at the mug and could feel panic rising. You bent down to pick up the broken pieces, you didn’t want anyone to injure themselves while you went and found an employer that could help, but as you picked up the pieces in your panicked state, you sliced your finger open.

“Ouch!” you cried and lifted the finger to inspect it. It was bleeding, definitely bleeding, the blood began running down the side of your finger, but from what you could see after wiping it up with tissues, it didn’t look too deep.

Finally, an employer came to your aid and found a first-aid kit. With heated cheeks you let him ask what happened and give you a Band-Aid, and then you paid for the broken mug (as well as the new ones you selected out afterwards). You hated that you embarrassed yourself so, you kept thinking how you wouldn’t be able to show your face there ever again.

You were busy still thinking hard about the incident when you stumbled up the stairs to your apartment. You were just thinking how you could have made a run for it, and they never would’ve known, when Newt’s apartment door swung open beside you.

You froze in place and looked at the blond boy as he held his hand up, his finger spurting blood. You stared hard at his hand and then your eyes widened.

“I don’t have any bloody Band-Aids,” he said, his frown tight and his eyebrows furrowed from the pain.

“Your finger…” you said, and then you realized he needed your help, so you quickly unlocked your apartment door and he followed you into the bathroom. You opened up the mirror’s storage doors and searched for your small box of first-aid equipment.

You pulled out a Band-Aid and, after cleaning the wound on his finger, you wrapped it up carefully, hyper-aware of every touch. You felt the blush back on your cheeks and you hoped he didn’t notice.

“So, you have plenty of extra soft towels but no Band-Aids, huh?” you questioned, jokingly.

He smiled at this, “Well, if you weren’t such a klutz, I wouldn’t bloody need them.”

You pulled your hands away from him and stared up at him, you weren’t sure if you had heard him correctly. In fact, you were sure you hadn’t.

“You don’t know?” he said, his brown eyes amused. He pointed to his leg, “My limp, your leg pains? It’s the same bloody leg.”

“But—”

He eyed your injured finger before continuing, “I didn’t slice my finger open, I was nowhere near anything that would. I was just typing away on my laptop, minding my own business. Essays are hard and painful but not that kind of painful,” he laughed at his joke and you couldn’t believe what he was getting at, you just couldn’t. “And what about this?” he continued as held up his other arm where a big, fat purple bruise swelled his skin.

You twisted your arm to look at where the bruise was, you remembered that you were vacuuming and tripped over the cord, you looked back to him and saw him half-grinning.

He sighed, “I saw that one first, on your arm, in the hallway once when I was on my way out and you were going home. I... I was sure I was just imagining things but... it all made sense after a while.”

You were lost for words entirely, the whole soulmate thing, you believed it of course, your own parents found each other after your mom broke her wrist roller-skating. They went to the hospital at the same time and saw each other in the waiting room, for the same injury, except Dad was only watching TV when it happened.

But you never even thought about it, not consistently anyway, meeting your soulmate was something you just figured would happen later, a lot later.

“Have you always been this much of a klutz? ‘Coz I’ve been through the bloody wars, especially this week,” he couldn’t keep his smile off his face, “and when we met and you spilled that milk all over the corridor…” he laughed softly, and licked his lips nervously, “I guess I thought about how clumsy my soulmate must be and I kinda hoped it was you. Spilt milk is pretty romantic, right?” he paused, “Makes a good story to tell.”

“I…” you said, but your sentence trailed off. “I can’t believe…” You shook your head and laughed, finally, and it put Newt at ease when he realized you weren’t in complete shock-horror at the thought of him being your soulmate. “God, I must have drove you crazy…”

“A lot of injuries, sometimes I thought you might kill me before we ever even got the chance to meet but… I guess I always thought that at least you would be a pretty interesting person. Not any normal person gets into that many accidents on the daily.”

“I’m sorry about that…” you said sheepishly, suddenly embarrassed all over again.

He smiled brightly at you, his brown eyes flashed, “No need to be, I can take it. Besides, you have to put up with that bloody pain in your leg all the time.”

You shrugged, “I’m used to it, it would be weird not having it around.”

He smiled at that, and in that moment, it suddenly dawned on the both of you that your soulmate, your soulmate, was right there in front of you.

Newt nervously put his hand through his hair, he glanced down at your bathroom tiles momentarily before his eyes found yours again, “M-maybe we should get coffee some time?”

You laughed at him, a big, hearty laugh that rose from your stomach, and you tried to stop yourself by shoving your hand over your mouth, but his surprised face only made it harder.

At first, he didn’t know how to react, but your laugh was contagious to him, your smile was everything, and he couldn’t help but laugh with you.

#thatshankcallednewtimagine #tmr newt #newt imagine #tmr imagine #newt #newt x reader #one shot #newt/reader #tmr #tst #tdc

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sofreakinmanyfandoms · 6 years ago

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No Conditions, No Reservations - Chapter 15

Y’all, this chapter. I’m looking forward to the fallout.

Word count: 1442

Warnings: Intense pranking, mentions of injuries (non-war, it’s really lighthearted other than Sam’s threats)

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

“I’m gonna break his bow. I’m gonna find that archer and I’m gonna break his bow and then I’m gonna break both his legs for good measure.”

“I mean, you could do that,” you said as you watched Sam pace around the common room, “or you could be a little more creative in your revenge. What did he do?”

“He filled my room to mattress-height with balloons while I was asleep.”

You shrugged. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“They were water balloons. Easily pop-able ones. I’ve got five fans going to help the rug dry out.”

“Oh, ouch. Still, there’s gotta be a less violent response.”

Sam paused his pacing to stand in front of you. “Any suggestions, oh queen of all pranksters?”

“Give me a couple hours to think about it and I’ll let you know. If I don’t have anything by then, you can go with your plan.” You stood and crushed your now-empty soda can into an aluminum ball as you made your way towards the kitchen, rolling it around in your hands to smooth it out.

“I forget sometimes that you’re as strong as Bucky and me.”

You looked at the blond as you tossed the ball into the trash. “If only Bucky could remember that. Maybe he’d stop freaking out about me getting hurt every time he does.”

Steve smiled at you from where he was pouring his coffee refill and laughed. “Good luck with that ever happening. He’s always been the protective type, but I’ve never seen it come out more strongly than when he’s trying to take care of you.”

“Injuries go both ways, though. He’s got scars from me, too.”

“I do?”

You turned to find Bucky standing near the entrance to the kitchen, frozen and wide-eyed.

“Of course you didn’t know,” you suddenly realized, going to him and rubbed your hand up and down his arm. “I should have figured you didn’t. You were frozen so much of the time and you have so many scars already; of course you couldn’t tell the difference.” Taking him by the hand, you gently tugged him along behind you. “Come on. Let me show you.”

----------

The two of you sat crisscross on your bed, facing each other. You had both stripped down to your underwear and Bucky’s eyes were roaming your scars.

“Okay,” you said, “I show you mine, you show me yours. Non-battle-related scars only. We’ll see who is responsible for more.” You pointed to a white line across the top of your right knee. Bucky found the same mark on his. “Eighth birthday. My dad got me a bike and I tried to jump it off a ramp. Totally missed the landing and slashed my knee open on the back of the neighbor’s flatbed pickup. I was the coolest kid on the block for two weeks after.”

He grinned and pointed to a small scar along his hairline. “Fifteen. Got my head slammed into a trash can while trying to get Steve out of a fight he picked with a group of five jerks who were harassing this girl he liked.”

“Twelve.” You pointed to your right elbow where a vaguely circular mark resided. “I was babysitting my cousin. She was a brat. Bit me because I didn’t want to play Barbies with her.”

“Seventeen.” His ribcage, left side. Long, vertical scar. “Another fight, this one because someone had called Steve a sissy. Got him out of there, but got thrown into a pile of bricks. The corner of one of them pulled my shirt up and left a mark.”

“Were all of your pre-war scars Steve’s fault?” you asked, laughing.

He laughed too. “Mostly, yeah, but not all. It’s your turn.”

“Bottom of my left foot. Stepped on a rusty nail and had to get a tetanus shot because mine was expired. I couldn’t put my weight on it for a couple of hours, but of course we heal pretty quickly, so it wasn’t too long.”

“Right shoulder. Tripped and fell down the stairs. A sharp rock gave me a decent gash.”

“Under my chin. Collided with my cousin’s head while she was wearing butterfly clips. That was another instance of her being a brat while I was stuck babysitting.”

Bucky paused, searching his body for another scar that wasn’t related to the war or his time as the Winter Soldier. The only thing he found was a small mark on his right palm.

“I don’t remember how I got this one,” he admitted, showing it to you.

You smiled at the memory. “That was me. I was ten; found a stray kitten on the way home from school and tried to bring it home. It scratched me a lot when I first picked it up, but that was the deepest and the only one that scarred.”

He studied the white line, a small smile creeping over his face. “Well, what do you know. I didn’t realize so many of my scars have good memories attached to them.”

“Some neutral memories, too, I hope,” you said, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “I don’t know if you noticed, but the topography around your left arm changed a bit when I got mine.”

“I noticed,” he admitted, “but I’ve always tried to ignore those scars. They’re not exactly something I’m proud of.”

You pulled him closer, into a hug. “Every scar you have, good memories or bad, means you survived something. Every scar was just part of the path that led us together.”

He scooped you up and pulled you into his lap, placing a kiss on your forehead. “It’s nice knowing I have scars from you. It makes this whole thing seem more real somehow. Looking at my scars on you, I know you’re my soulmate, but looking at your scars on me… I’m yours. I’m as much yours as you are mine, and I can believe that because the proof is right there.”

“I’ll always be yours,” you said, burying your face in his neck, “and you’ll always be mine. I’m never letting you go, James Buchanan Barnes, and don’t you forget it.”

“Never, doll,” he whispered. “I’ll never let you go either.”

----------

“How much money did you spend on this?”

You finished situating the next cup and glanced over at Sam. “You think Clint didn’t spend money on those water balloons?”

“Water balloons are not as expensive as hundreds of glasses,” Sam pointed out, “even if you did just clean out a few thrift stores.”

You shrugged. “I have no living expenses anymore. This is nothing.”

“Nothing. The woman comes up with the mother of all ‘equivalent pranks,’ and she calls it nothing.”

“That’s the key with prank war retaliations,” you grinned. “Make the prank similar enough that they know exactly why they’re being pranked, but make them even more annoying to deal with.”

"Like Genevieve?"

"Exactly like Genevieve."

Sam surveyed the work you two had put in during the last hour. “If the time this is taking to set up is any indication, it’s definitely going to be annoying for him to deal with. We’re not even halfway done.”

It took another two hours, but the you both managed to finish your work before Clint made it back from his mission with Bucky and Steve. Every flat, hard surface in his room that wasn’t otherwise occupied was now covered with full upside-down water glasses – and he had a hardwood floor. There were glasses under his bed. There were glasses along the edges of his bookshelves. You’d even put glasses along various surfaces in his bathroom, although that would be less of a pain to clean up than the army of mismatched thrift store finds that marched along his floor.

You stood in the doorway and admired your handiwork. “That ought to do it. Remember, I had nothing to do with this.”

“Suit yourself,” Sam snorted, shaking his head. “You put all this time and money into helping me get prank revenge, and you don’t want any credit. He’d be too scared to retaliate on you anyway, you know.”

“I know,” you smiled, “but I’d still like to appear neutral.”

“Well, thanks for the help. I’m gonna go for a run. Care to join me?”

“Sure,” you said, stretching your back. “After all that time hunched over, I could use some movement to loosen me up. Just let me get changed really quickly.”

“Same. Meet you downstairs in fifteen,” Sam called over his shoulder, already on his way to his room.

You smiled to yourself as you got ready for your run. This prank war was going to be fun.

#no conditions #no reservations #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #reader #x reader #winter soldier #scars #fluff #pranks #water balloons #prank war #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #masterlist #i still suck at tagging

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sopeinthesink · 7 years ago

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SoulEnemies {pt 2} // MYG

Prompt: By the age of 10, nearly everyone has developed two tattoos, one on each arm. Each one is a date and a time, and one is when you’ll meet your soulmate. But the other is when you’ll meet your worst enemy. Until the closer date, most people worry about which will come first, but not you. Because your dates and times are exactly the same.

Pairing: Reader x Min Yoongi

Words: 5746

pt. 1 Masterlist

Enjoy!! -Cel

His hair was silky between your fingers as you gazed silently at one another. You had been talking for hours, moving from your bed to the kitchen, where you ordered a pizza which currently sat mostly eaten and growing colder by the moment on the table. Yoongi had coaxed you onto his lap with a kiss on the knuckles and a mischievous grin. You slowly obliged, sitting with both legs on one side of his. Straddling could wait for a different day, especially since you still wore a dress. He trailed a finger down your jaw, coming to a stop at your chin, where he slowly ran his thumb over your bottom lip. The touch sent shivers down your spine.

“God, I’ve waited so long for today...” he whispered, his eyes doing yet another once-over of your features. You let yours do the same, noting his plump lips, only made fuller by the copious amounts of kissing which had already taken place. His cheekbones and jawline made his face angular, while his cheeks were slightly rounded. But it was his eyes that truly captivated you, a dark color which, upon further inspection, you found to be a deep brown which you had originally thought was black instead. His thick lashes dusted his cheeks as he lowered his eyes, and you felt something stir as you realized he also had a light layer of makeup, meant only to define and emphasize those beautiful eyes of his.

“And you think I haven’t?” you murmured back, leaning down to pepper his cheek and jaw with light kisses. He drew in a slow breath, leaning his head back slightly as you kissed just below his ear. “My first tattoo came at nine, and then the waiting game started.” You wrapped one arm around his neck, the other one nearly tangling in his perfect hair.

The feel of the entire room shifted as he chuckled lowly, moving back slightly to look at you. “I’ve got you beat,” he smirked. “Try eight...” The words didn’t have time to register before his lips were on you, nipping at the flesh of your neck. You felt his tongue dart out, making you gasp ever so slightly. But apparently it was enough to encourage him, and he let his teeth drag over the spot where your pulse raced the fastest, sucking gently. Your hand, still in his hair, tightened a bit, making him groan quietly. Something in your stomach twinged, and you realized if this went on much longer, it would escalate a little faster than you had originally planned.

Reluctantly, you pulled yourself away, though it took every ounce of power in you to do so. It would have been so simple, so easy, to let it morph into what you knew came next, but you had just met a few hours ago. Time was something you would have plenty of. Placing your forehead against his, you fought to keep your breathing level, but as you slowly met his gaze, you could have stopped breathing altogether. Those beautiful eyes of his were clouded with what you could only describe as lust, but before you could fully register the look, it was gone, replaced by the whisper of fingers gliding down your arm. He took your hand in his, bringing it up to press another kiss against your knuckles.

“Sorry about that, jagiya...” he mumbled against your skin.

“It’s alright,” you smiled softly at the title. “I want to know more about you, Min Yoongi. Tell me more.” At his curious gaze, you simply smiled, before slipping onto the floor and leading him by the hand to the couch. “Actually, tell me about it right after I go change out of the only fancy dress I own,” you blushed as you remembered you still had it on.

“I’ll be waiting,” he smirked, sitting down and slinging an arm over the back of the couch. With that, you made your way to your room, where you shut the door quietly behind you before slumping against it for a moment. You had to catch your breath as one of the most beautiful men you’d ever seen sat on your crummy couch not ten feet away. You could still feel his lips, pressed against your own as you moved to undress. You struggled to reach the zipper for a moment but got it down after a few seconds. Sliding the fabric off, you nearly stumbled over to your dresser, where you retrieved a simple pair of leggings, along with a more comfortable bra and a somewhat baggy t-shirt. You froze, however, as you spotted the delicate purple marks already setting into your skin. The sight brought butterflies to your stomach as you once again felt the press of lips to skin, followed closely by teeth and tongue...

Shaking your head slightly to clear it, you wondered if this was the appropriate attire to wear in front of a multi-millionaire, before remembering that this was your home and you could wear whatever you wanted. Heading back out to the main room, you found Yoongi with one leg folded beneath the other as he scrolled silently through his phone, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he read something. He didn’t seem to have noticed you yet, so you stood quietly by the wall to let him finish whatever it was he was up to. It would have worked too, had it not been for the old floorboards creaking underfoot as you shifted slightly.

His head raised, eyes finding yours in an instant. They softened as his mouth grew into a smile. “Well, that was fast.” He chuckled, leaning forward to set his phone on the table in front of him. You shrugged slightly, moving toward him. “That wasn’t anything important,” he glanced at his phone as if reading your mind. “And even if it was, tonight is all about you and getting to know you better anyway.”

With a nod, you settled beside him, pulling your legs up onto the couch in front of you even as you leaned back. “So, how old are you, if you don’t mind me asking...” You turned your head to watch him as he repositioned beside you. His suit jacket had been hung on the back of his chair earlier, but his white dress shirt was pulled tight against his arms and chest as he moved.

“Twenty-five, nearly twenty-six. I was born in Daegu, but moved here when I was 20 and haven't left since.” Yoongi cocked his head slightly until it was the same angle as yours. “And what about you, Y/N. I know it’s not polite to ask a lady her age, but I do believe this is an exception...” His sly grin made your insides knot and twist with longing.

“Only twenty-one,” you admitted, the number sounding much smaller as you realized that left nearly a five year age gap. Nerves became intermingled with the twisted feeling still in your stomach as thoughts whirled in your mind; how would your parents respond to this, what would your friends think.... does he have more experience?

You must have been deep in thought, because you almost didn’t notice him tugging you between his legs, pulling you close so your back lay flush against his chest. His arms circled your shoulders and you lay there, slightly stunned as he pressed kisses to your hair. “It’s alright, Y/N. Four years truly isn’t that much, I promise,” he hummed as the tip of his nose ran along the shell of your ear. “I would never hurt you...”

It took you a moment to gather your words, and when you did they sounded weak coming from your lips. “So I guess you really did wait longer...”

The rest of the night consisted of the two of you getting to know one another better. You talked for hours, cramming in as much information about yourselves as you could until you were on the verge of sleep. Yoongi had noticed your head growing heavier against the arm on which you were propped later that night. He couldn’t help but smile as he stood and took you up off the couch. As if you weighed nothing, he brought you carefully to your bedroom, where he gently placed you on your bed. Your mind was hazy with sleep as he pulled up the blanket and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I’m glad it was you,” you heard him whisper as he leaned down to press a tender kiss against your forehead. Straightening, he moved to the door and paused to glance back at you, already fast asleep after such an eventful day. With a small smile, he shut the door behind him as he moved to put on his coat. He then looked for something to write with, and once he found an old pen and a sticky note, he neatly wrote out his number and the words Text me :) before placing the note on the door to your microwave, hoping you’d see it in the morning. As he found himself stepping out the door, he pulled out his phone once again, finding it brimming with messages and emails. But as he made his way to his car, all he thought about was you.

Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you gazed up at the ceiling, from which hung a patterned cloth and twinkle lights. The room started out bare and white, with nothing but a bed and an old dresser. But with a little money and a couple trips to local thrift stores, you had made it into a space you really loved. The sheets and comforter were white, but you supposed that reflected your innocence and naivete in a world filled with messed up people. A rolling hanger rack stood in the corner to the far right, and a cheap desk was in the other, complete with a refurbished director-style chair you’d found about a year ago.

As early morning sunlight streamed through lace window coverings, you stretched your arms over your head, which you then turned to look at the clock beside your bed. It was merely 8:40, though that was later than you tended to get up. Wondering why that was, you thought back to last night, before it all came rushing back.

Plump lips on your neck, fingertips trailing over your skin. It was a night filled with hesitant intimacy and veiled emotions, and you had never been so blissfully happy. The scent, the sight, even the taste of him rushed to the forefront of your memory as you let out a contented sigh. Min Yoongi was better than you could have hoped, and you couldn’t wait to spend more time with him… The only issue was getting ahold of him.

Pushing yourself up off your pillows, you found you wore the same clothes you’d changed into last night. Sighing, you shook your head and crawled out of bed. Even as a queen size, it was barely enough to accommodate both you as well as all the plushies and pillows you had piled along the side, but what could you say? Without a pet (or a boyfriend), what else were you supposed to cuddle with at night? Sliding on your socks again, you shuffled out of your room to the kitchen.

A little orange square immediately caught your eye as you glanced around. Hurrying over, you peeled it off, a grin spreading across your face. Running to retrieve your phone, you typed his number in and opened up a new message. Pausing to think for a moment, you settle on a simple ‘Good morning :)’ text. Setting the device on the table after adding his number to a new contact, you moved to the fridge to find something to eat. The last of the pizza had been placed in there, probably Yoongi’s doing, and you smiled as you pulled it out and made it your breakfast. With no warning, your phone cut through the silence of the room, making you jump before you whirled around to find Yoongi’s newly-added name lighting up the screen. Grinning, you happily answered.

“Good morning love,” came his voice, soft on the other end of the line. “I see you found my little note then?”

“Good morning to you too, and yes I did,” you felt your smile widen at the pet name. “Thanks for that. And for saving the rest of the pizza. It’s become a really great breakfast for me.”

“Sometime when I don’t have to come into work early, I think I'm gonna take you to a nice breakfast,” he chuckled, sounding somewhat far away.

“That would be great.” You wondered how he was feeling after yesterday, and when you’d be able to meet up again. “So when do you get off today?” you asked curiously.

He sighed, sounding as if he was leaning back in his chair. “Not until late tonight,” he replied, sounding somewhat dejected. “I wish I could spend some time with you today, but because of the event and all the planning that had to go into it, we’re behind schedule on several album releases, and since I’m the head producer, I’m taking the heat of it right now…”

“Don’t worry about it, really. It’s not like it can be helped,” you assured him softly. A long moment of silence passed between you before you turned around to lean against the counter. “Thank you, by the way.”

He hesitated for a brief moment, obviously thinking.”You’re welcome? What did I do to deserve your thanks?” Yoongi’s voice was brighter on the other end of the line, and you could hear the smile tinging his words.

“For everything last night. For getting me that gig, for spending the night with me… For not rejecting me just because we have double numbers,” you explained, a small bubble of happiness rising in your chest and spreading gentle warmth through your body.

“In that case, Y/N, you are most welcome.” You could practically see that gummy smile as he most certainly grinned to himself. “Maybe if you want, I could come over again tonight? It’ll probably be really late though, and I’d hate to keep you up,” he chuckled.

“Really, Yoongi. Don’t worry about it. You should focus on your projects. I don’t want to distract you. Plus I have some plans today anyhow so I won’t just be sitting around bored all day.” As much as you’d love to spend another night with him, you had enough patience to wait for him to have more time.

“Alright then.” There was a sound like a door opening and shutting in the background and he sighed again. “Hey, listen, I’ll call you later, okay? A session is about to start in a few minutes and I have some last minute preps to do.”

“Sounds good, I’ll talk to you later,” you smiled once more, pushing off from the counter. There was a moment of hesitation, as you tried to get out three little words that stuck in your throat. Not yet, you thought. You exchanged goodbyes before hanging up, leaving you in the silence of your apartment once more.

“You have got to be kidding me,” came a shocked voice from your front door. Whirling around, you found none other than Kim Taehyung, your long-time best friend, and fellow musician. Behind him trailed Jeon Jungkook, a tall young man who currently wore a face of apology. Taehyung had a key to your apartment, so he was always free to come in, though the door wasn’t currently locked since you had just gotten back from grocery shopping and had to make several trips up and down.

“What the hell are you going on about, Tae?” You rolled your eyes, returning to your previous task of putting all your newly-bought food where it belonged.

“How could you?” He asked, sounding extraordinarily offended. “You didn’t text me last night to tell me how things went, and I let it slide because I figured you might have spent the night together.” He placed a hand on his hip and huffed. “However, I at least expected some info come this morning, but what do I wake up to? A screen devoid of any texts and full of news stories about Min Yoongi’s new soulmate...” You froze at his words, glancing back to find him watching you with suspicious, narrowed eyes.

“Oh come on Tae, give Y/N a break. Obviously, she was busy this morning.” Jungkook gave you a smile before moving around the table. “We should help put things away, and then we can talk,” he chuckled, picking up a box of pasta. Due to the frequency of the pair’s visits, they had come to know where foods went in your kitchen, and the same went for you.

Sighing, Taehyung followed suit, and after several minutes, the work was finished and you were being dragged over to the couch. “Alright, spill it. I want every juicy detail, every word spoken, I must know all about this person,” he explained with a small grin as he and Jungkook sat on the other end of the couch.

“So...it’s Min Yoongi-” you began before you were cut off by a victorious shout.

“I told you! I knew it would be him after I saw that story today!” Tae turned to Jungkook, who sat there rolling his eyes and motioning you to continue.

And so you proceeded to tell the two everything that happened yesterday, from the moment you got the call in the shower to the time you were carried to bed. They listened patiently, nodding and humming along the entire time. You felt good telling them everything that had happened like somehow the words leaving your mouth allowed some invisible weight to lift from your shoulders.

“Well, I can’t say I’m all that surprised it was someone as famous as him,” Tae sighed as you finished the explanation, to which you raised your eyebrows in questioning. “I just mean that had you not been paired with someone famous, you’d have been able to find them online…”

You nodded, unable to challenge the truth in his words. In an age where the internet was so prevalent, people had taken to posting their numbers on all their social media profiles. Many people also paid for services that would scour the internet for someone whose numbers matched your own. If such a program could not find a match, it was likely the person in question was a celebrity, or simply had no social media. Most celebrities liked to keep their numbers secret, so as not to have fans trying to interfere with meeting their soulmates, or even their enemies. You had invested in one of the said programs when you were younger, but came up empty-handed, taking it as a glitch since you had double numbers. Now the reason behind your lack of answer was clearer.

“I guess you’re right,” you shrugged. “What do I do though? I never planned on him being so… famous, I guess.” The idea made your stomach drop slightly as you thought about how much Yoongi was in the public eye. Despite your hatred of rap music, you still knew his name from the news and social media. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all the publicity that comes along with him…”

“Y/N, if anyone could use some publicity, it’s you,” Jungkook spoke up. “You deserve every bit of attention that may come out of this, because your an amazing musician and an even more amazing person. This could be your big break.”

“Kookie is right,” Taehyung smiled. “Even though he’s part of a completely different genre, that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have connections. And I’m sure as your soulmate, he’ll want you to be successful and will be willing to help you out.”

“I hope you guys are right…” your voice trailed off as you sighed, thoughts only on the man who had already changed your life so immensely.

Staring at your phone screen, you strongly debated whether or not to press the button. The call icon beckoned you from just beneath your thumb, and after another moment of hesitation, you took a deep breath, shut your eyes, and tapped it. No going back now, you thought as you raised the device to your ear. It rang three times before the man on the other end picked up.

There was a moment of silence as you marveled at the fact that he actually picked up before you came to your senses. “H-Hi, Yoongi…” you stammered slightly, mentally kicking yourself. Why were you so nervous all of a sudden?

“Hey, Y/N,” he replied softly, sounding exhausted. “How’s your day been?”

Sighing, you leaned fully against the back of the couch. “Pretty decent. But that’s not why I called. How was your day?” You smiled as you heard him chuckle softly.

“My day? It’s been pretty stressful but decently productive. And to what do I owe the pleasure of hearing your lovely voice?” His words lit a spark in your chest, making you unable to catch your breath for a moment.

“Uhm, well… I know you said you’d be busy all day,” you started, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as the words forced themselves from your mouth. “But I was wondering if you wanted anything to eat? I’m sure there’s probably food at the studio, but I just thought I could maybe bring you something, but since I wasn’t sure I-”

“That would be great,” he laughed, stopping your ramble before it tumbled out of control. You sighed, scolding yourself for your sudden lack of confidence. “I really love Panda Express. Their honey walnut shrimp and chow mein are amazing.”

You snorted, “Of all the places around here, you want Chinese?” Shaking your head, you stood and looked around for your keys and wallet. “I guess a man wants what a man wants, huh?” This time it was his turn to make a sound, but his was more along the lines of a laugh.

“What can I say, the studio gives me cravings,” he laughed. “Are you planning on taking the train over here?” When you confirmed, he paused, sounding as if he were standing up from his chair. “Alright, be careful, please? I’ll go tell the receptionist to expect you. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Yeah, see you then,” you smiled, hanging up and finally locating what you were searching for. Then you were on your merry way.

“Uh, excuse me? I’m here for Yoongi?” you called to draw the receptionist’s attention. She glanced over, smiling as she saw you.

“Oh yes, of course. We have an escort already waiting to show you the way. Go right ahead,” she nodded. You pushed through the set of double doors into the red hallway beyond and tried not to pay attention to the walls lined with silver, gold and platinum records set at even intervals down the passage.

“Miss Y/L/N?” came a voice from your right. You looked up to find the same security guard that had let you in yesterday. You greeted him before he began to lead you apparently toward wherever your other half was. You tried your best to remember the twists and turns you took but lost track after the seventh one. After a few minutes, however, you arrived at a door in a short hallway with only three doors. Each one had a name written in gold lettering that stood out against the ebony wood, but the only one that mattered was directly in front of you.

Min Yoongi

The reality of who he really was started to reveal itself as the guard knocked on the door slowly. It was answered a moment later, and the next thing you knew, the guard was retreating and you were being beckoned into the studio of world-renowned record producer and rapper Min Yoongi. And boy, did the space live up to that honor. The walls dripped with red and gold and black velvet, making the huge space feel warm and cozy. Most eye-catching, however, was the soundboard. Buttons and switches and monitors seemed to dominate the spaces on either side, but in the center was a large computer with the name “Suga” displayed in the center. Behind the technology lay the sound booth, set behind thick soundproof glass and complete with not only several microphones, but also a grand piano, two guitars, and several different kinds of drums. The entire studio took your breath away, and after a moment, you realized your jaw hung open slightly.

“Y/N~” came Yoongi’s voice from beside you as he shut the door. Snapping out of your amazement, you turned to face him. He wore a black Chicago Bulls jersey under a camo jacket with jeans that were almost more ripped than not and completed the look with a snapback worn backward to keep his silver hair from his eyes. After last night’s formal attire, the laid back outfit almost shocked you, but he somehow felt more natural this way.

“Oh sorry, what was that?” you asked, feeling your cheeks warm with slight embarrassment that you had missed whatever he said.

“I just said hi,” he smirked, stepping toward you. “Pretty nice huh?” He glanced at the surroundings, before returning his gaze to you as you took another look around.

“Pretty nice? Most musicians would kill for this and you think it’s just pretty nice?” You laughed as he rolled his eyes. Stepping forward, you grinned up at him slightly. “It’s incredible.”

“Well I’m glad you think so,” he grinned, placing his hands on either side of your face. “You’re the first person not signed to this record label to see the inside of the Genius Lab.” You couldn’t help but giggle at his words, and he playfully pinched your cheek. “You should be honored.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, silently smiling and gazing at one another before you sighed. “Let me put down this damn food so I can kiss you,” you breathed. With a chuckle, he took the bags from your hands to place them on the table by the large couch, before replacing his own on your cheeks more gently this time. He smiled down at you as your hands came to clutch at his shirt. Inhaling sharply, you allowed yourself to rock up on your toes to press your lips lightly against his. Pulling away slightly, you watched as his sweet smile became a nearly devilish smirk as he reclaimed your mouth, much firmer this time.

You felt his teeth graze against your lower lip, followed shortly thereafter by his tongue, which swept slowly against the same lip, almost as if requesting entrance, which you happily granted. As the kiss deepened, he began stepping back to lead you toward the soundboard, but you didn’t fully register what his plan was until he lowered himself into the chair set before the monitors. You felt your lips part from his, and you took a moment to catch your breath as he gazed up at you with dark eyes. He trailed his hands down your shoulders, all the way down until they rested against your hips, which he gently tugged forward.

“Is this alright?” Yoongi whispered, his lips finding a new home against your neck as you were pulled between his legs.

Instead of responding, you simply let your hands come up to the back of his neck, tilting your head slightly to give him clearer access. He let out a short, impossibly low chuckle that had your heart stuttering in your chest as his lips pressed lightly against the skin below your ear. The kisses were gentle at first, just simple, lingering skin on skin contact, but as he made his way further down, they got more intense. You felt his teeth graze your skin, the bites getting heavier and his tongue swiping over the skin before he moved down again. He never paused long enough to leave lasting marks, or at least so you hoped…

As his mouth met with your collarbone, there was a knock on the door, shattering the moment between you. Yoongi let out a huff, leaning his forehead briefly where his mouth had been mere moments ago, before responding. “Come in,” he called out, sitting back and allowing you to hastily take a step away as the door opened. You were met with a tired but excited man, whom you recognized as Jung Hoseok from the night before. His eyes found yours with a look of muted surprise before he grinned.

“Oh, you’re Y/N, right? We talked last night I believe,” he greeted you, to which you nodded. “Well I’ll just be a minute, then you two can return to whatever scandalous activities you were up to a moment ago.” A wink was aimed at Yoongi and you felt your face light on fire.

“Hobi, we weren’t up to anything,” the older man rolled his eyes with a slight scowl. “Anyway, what do you need? Is the backing for the new track ready?”

“Yeah, that’s what I came to talk about. It’s completed, I shared it with you over the Cloud so you can tweak it however you want,” he nodded. “I think you’ll enjoy it, and I think it’ll fit in with the rest of the mixtape.”

“Alright thanks, I’ll take a look. Is that all you needed?” Yoongi arched an eyebrow a bit arms crossing over his chest.

The brunette simply chuckled and nodded. “Yup, that’s all. I’ll be on my way again. Though I do need to discuss some logistics with you later, that can wait until a more…” he glanced at you with a grin. “Appropriate time. Don’t have too much fun!” He called over his shoulder as he stepped out and shut the door behind him.

Yoongi let out an agitated sigh, removing his hat as he turned to face his computer and running a hand through his hair. “I’m really sorry about that, Y/N.” His voice was soft in the quiet space and you moved toward him once more. Coming up behind him, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, placing your cheek against his hair.

“It’s alright,” you murmured, positive he could hear you. “Besides,” you paused to press a kiss against the crown of his head. “Who knows where that would’ve gone had he not interrupted…” Yoongi chuckled darkly, a hand coming up to smooth over the back of your hand where it lay against his chest.

“I’d like to think we’d have been responsible about it since it’s pretty early into this whole thing,” he leaned his head back to rest against your shoulder. “But I’m not sure if I was going to be able to hold back there…”

You let out a soft giggle, pecking his forehead before reluctantly straightening. “So do you even want food or are you just not hungry anymore?”

He spun around in his seat once again after retrieving a file to nod. “Thank you, Y/N. I really appreciate this.”

You moved to take the food from the bag it sat in, placing the cartons on the table. “One order of honey walnut shrimp and chow mein,” you stated, pushing his food to the side of the table closer to him as you sat down on the couch. He stood, stepping around the table to plop down beside you. Not what you were expecting, but you couldn’t complain.

“And what did you get?” He inquired, picking up his containers and retrieving a pair of chopsticks.

“Sweet and sour chicken, fried rice, and some spring rolls for both of us.” Yoongi nodded at your words, reaching to grab the now empty carryout bag. He balled it up and proceeded to toss it easily into the waste bin across the room, not noticing at first as you glanced at him, mildly impressed. “Alright then, LeBron…” you chuckled, snapping your chopsticks and opening a container.

Yoongi leaned back, sighing lightly. “Bet you didn’t know I used to play basketball,” he offered, digging in as you raised your eyebrows.

“Well, I definitely didn’t expect that.” You took a piece of chicken between the bamboo sticks and grinned at him. “I’m surprised you could even make a basket, what with your height and all.” You grinned smugly at him as he rolled his eyes.

“And what sports did you do? Fencing? You could just duck right under people and hit ‘em right off the bat,” He countered playfully.

“As a matter of fact, I was never really a sports person, but I did play a dwarf when my high school put on Snow White.” You feigned superiority before you both broke down in laughter. “So how competitively did you play?” You leaned back beside him, taking another bite of food.

“Let’s just say, I was offered a couple scholarships from a couple universities, but I turned them down because I wanted to pursue music…” His voice trailed off, and he looked down at his hands. “Music is my life, always has been. So I figured what better way to enjoy my life than to dedicate it to music?”

“I feel the same way,” you leaned your head against his shoulder. “I went to university for two years before I dropped out last semester for numerous reasons, the main one being I wasn’t doing something I enjoyed. My dad insisted that I go to study law, but I don’t want to be in an office somewhere doing something I hate for the next fifty years. I want to create things, make people feel things and know that it was me who brought them happiness or helped them through a hard time.”

Yoongi was quiet for a moment, and the two of you ate in comfortable silence. “I’m really glad we’re both so crazy about music,” he murmurs. “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been matched with someone who hates what I do or can’t relate to it. But I feel like, even though we have doubles, we’ll find some way to work everything out.” Another beat of silence. “At least… I hope we can.”

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xvii-chapters · 8 years ago

Text

I Am You, You Are Me || Soulmate!Soonyoung || Oneshot

GENRE: fluff, soulmate!au, non-famous, convenience stores, college kids

WORDS: 3413

BLURB: Are ugly sweaters a trend nowadays?

A/N: Obviously heavily inspired by Zico’s song of the same name. Have been wanting to finish this for FOREVER, and finally! It’s also my first gender-neutrel fic so please go easy on me. Hope you guys like :)

“Hyung! Could you get me some ramen from the convenience store?”

“Why can’t you get it yourself?”

Chan swivelled in his chair to face the older boy, pouting slightly. “I’m studying! And it’s cold outside. These finals are really important, you know this! What if I catch a cold out there?”

A loud sigh came from the couch where Soonyoung was laying on. “Then eat the ramen we have! Mingyu just went grocery shopping yesterday.”

“But I want my favourite…” The younger boy was petulant and Soonyoung found himself sighing again, sitting up to face his favourite dongsaeng. The kid looked exhausted – what he needed was sleep, not ramen – but one look at that pout and Soonyoung was slowly standing up, though not without a bit of groaning and feigned reluctance.

“You’re lucky I love you kid,” Soonyoung muttered, searching for a sweater and his keys. Chan’s lips quirked up into a grin. “Thanks hyung. You’re the best.”

“Yeah yeah.” Soonyoung wandered into his room and grabbed the first thing off the floor, pulling it over his head. When he walked out Chan was scrunching his nose at him.

“What?”

“You’re wearing that?” the younger boy asked with disdain.

“What? It’s comfy!”

“It’s ugly.”

“It’s late. No one’s going to look at what I’m wearing.”

“But–”

“Do you want your ramen or not?” Soonyoung threatened. Chan just shrugged, turning back to his work. “Do whatever you want hyung. I’m just saying you never know when you’ll bump into your soulmate and I doubt you want to be caught in that ugly sweater.”

Soonyoung just rolled his eyes and left the dorm. Instantly, a cold whip of air hit him. Ugly or not, he’d rather be warm in the thick sweater than freeze to death trying to make a good impression, soulmate be damned.

Working at a convenience store was very boring as you had quickly found out less than a week into your new job. Especially if one happens to be on the graveyard shift, which was unfortunately the one you were currently working right now. The store itself wasn’t so bad – it was nicer than most, the main colour scheme being reds and pinks instead of the usual puke green, and had indie neon décor. But with not much else to do besides restocking the already well-stocked shelves and counting the money in the cash register every ten minutes, even the whimsical setting lost its wonder after a few days. You had stopped caring about how you looked after the first day when you quickly realized the only people who came into the store at this time were hungry college kids or middle-aged men looking for booze.

When the bell rang on you shift that night, the person who walked through immediately fell into the first category.

Watch as he walks straight to the back with the ramen… And of course he did. He read the labels quickly before putting a whole bunch of the same type into a basket. He moved closer to the front where the chips were and you got to observe his side profile. You didn’t mean to stare. It’s just that he was the most exciting thing you had seen all night – all week actually – and he did have quite a nice side profile; high cheekbones but chubby cheeks (how does that work?) and a sharp jawline. Striking eyes.

When he turned to the front you quickly looked away. You started picking on your sleeve instead, tracing the huge white number one on it. Admittedly it was an ugly sweater – your mom had bought it for you when she went through a thrift store phase – and if you had known this guy would come into the store that night, you would definitely have worn something nicer.

A basket was placed on the counter and you realized the guy was done with his shopping. You looked up a little startled – thankfully he was looking elsewhere.

You scanned the items quickly. “That would be fifteen–”

You frowned. You took in the guy’s appearance once more. There was something familiar about his outfit that you couldn’t really place a finger on. Have you seen that top somewhere before? Your eyes widened when it hit you. You two were wearing the exact same sweater!

“Is there a problem?” the boy asked, shaking you out of your reverie.

“No no, nothing’s wrong.” You forced a smile. “That will be fifteen-oh-six.”

When you handed over the bag you noticed something else that was curious – on the pinky finger of his left hand he wore a silver ring much like the one you wore on your right.

“Hello?” There was a questioning look on his face as he held out the money.

“Oh I’m sorry!” Flustered, you counted out the proper change and returned it to him. “Um, have a nice night.”

The boy gave you a bemused look, before heading out the door. You watched him through the glass windows until he was out of sight. Then you went back to staring at the four walls and pondered over the chances of a good-looking boy walking in at 2am wearing the exact same sweater as the one your mom had found at the bottom of a discount pile.

Soonyoung toed off his shoes and put the keys back on the hook when he arrived at the dorm. On the way inside he passed by the hallway mirror and couldn’t help but stop and stare. He frowned at his sweater in particular. Were ugly sweaters a trend nowadays?

“Hyung! Is that you?” Chan called from inside.

“Yeah I’ve got your ramen!” Soonyoung took off the ugly thing – Chan had turned the heat way too high while he was gone – and bustled into the kitchen. He filled the kettle and tore open a bowl of ramen for himself. Chan padded in soon after, muttering “finally” while he waited for the water to boil.

“Hyung, how many packets of ramen did you buy? It looks like I’ll last the whole week!”

Soonyoung just shrugged, mind too occupied elsewhere. Mainly on the brown sweater and the person who had been wearing the exact same one back at the store.

Chan slid into a chair opposite the older boy. He shrugged. “At least you don’t have to go get more any time soon. Thanks hyung.”

“Huh.” And he had wanted to see you again too.

After that night the boy didn’t come back to the store again and you quickly forgot about the whole thing. Well, not really – he still had been pretty cute – but it was secondary now, especially since you were neck deep in finals. You studied fashion at the local university – the irony – and were about to start on the science of buttons and bowties when the bell jangled for the first time that night and in walked a smartly dressed man. Leather jacket, biker gloves and distressed black jeans. The fashion student in you nodded approvingly. Not bad. In fact, the outfit looked a little too good for the night-time and the gloves with the tips cut-off probably did nothing to protect his fingers from the cold. Your eyes trailed up to look at the man in question and –

Oh. It was the cute guy from before. At that moment he turned to look at you and you were oddly unable to look away. Instead the both of you waited to see who would break the stare first and it ended up being him. His gaze fell onto the top you were wearing and he frowned a little, ducking into an aisle when he noticed you noticing him.

Curious, you looked down at your clothes and – oh my god – you had on leather jacket too. You frowned – it couldn’t be mere coincidence, could it? When you looked back up you realized the boy was watching you through the cracks in the shelves and wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. You should have been creeped out but all you felt was a surge of annoyance so you glared back instead. On any other occasion that would have been a wrong move – an idiotic one, a dangerous one, one you wouldn’t have taken for fear of the stranger getting provoked by your rude manner – but there was nothing threatening about this boy and something told you he couldn’t hurt you even if he wanted to.

Feigning nonchalance the boy went back to his shopping, picking up a couple bags of chips and another few cups of ramen, different flavours this time. Then he stopped by the Drinks section and bent down to retie his laces. On a whim you decided to check your laces too – the one on your left shoe had come undone, while the boy’s was on his right.

When you turned back to him, the boy was focused on you. You hadn’t realized you had stood up and gone around the counter to see what he was doing. You pretended to be interested in something else and went back to your seat. From the corner of your eye you saw the boy smirk. Well.

You didn’t even know him but he was ticking you off in all the wrong places. You took off your jacket so at least you wouldn’t have to be dressed the same way as his cocky ass. Unfortunately when he came over to pay, you realized he had also taken his jacket off. Then you saw it. Your stomach plunged and your heart started beating wildly.

You knew you should be rational about such things but it couldn’t just be coincidence anymore. He was wearing a shirt with the exact same design as yours but in inverse colours – a doodle of a smiling man with lines for eyes and squiggly hair. This made the boy smirk even more.

“Six dollars, fifteen cents,” you said coolly, handing him the plastic bag. It hardly even surprised you that he had a gold bracelet around his wrist and another ring around his index finger, the same as you did. You quickly hid your hand behind your back. The boy left with a hint of amusement in his eyes.

It went much the same for the following weeks. He didn’t come every day but when he did he was always wearing something similar thing to you, no matter how drastically you changed your style. One time you had been so frustrated you asked your roommate to pick out the ugliest thing in your closet for you. It turned out to be a fuzzy yellow sweater you had gotten for Christmas but never wore. You gave it a classy finish (what kind of fashion student would you be if you left the house like a slob?) with a nice watch and stupid Spongebob bag you got from a flea market, just to piss off the Universe.

That night he came on an orange bike wearing the same yellow sweater and an identical watch. His phone with its new Spongebob cover stuck out from his back pocket. You huffed. The Universe has gotten creative, it seems.

He didn’t leave immediately and instead circled the store a couple of times, doing tricks on the bike whenever he passed by the front where you were. On the inside you were secretly impressed. But whenever he glanced over eagerly at you, you would just roll your eyes making him laugh. He gave a giant wave before cycling off into the night.

The boy was soon a familiar presence and it was slowly becoming clear exactly what you two were, but you didn’t want to give in that easily. On occasion you would be nice and allow him a small smile which he seemed content with, leaving the store with a grin brighter than you had ever seen. It was ridiculous how long you two spent dancing around each other but you suspected neither of you were ready yet to put a name to whatever this was, so you just let him circle around you and for now that was enough.

“Hyung, we have to talk about this.”

“Not now Chan I’m busy.”

“No, NOW hyung!” The younger boy tore the console away from Soonyoung, ignoring the older boy’s protests as his game character fell into a pit and got torn to bits. Chan jabbed at the screen. “See that? That’s what I’ll do to you if we don’t talk about your habit.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Soonyoung crossed his arms and sulked petulantly, although he very well knew why Chan was angry. In response the younger gestured wildly to the growing pile of snacks on the kitchen counter.

“I’m taking about this hyung! You’ve bought way too many snacks for the both of us to finish!”

A head popped up from the pile, smiling widely. “Don’t worry, that’s what we’re here for.”

“Not helping, Jun-hyung,” Chan deadpanned.

Another head popped up from the pile. Jihoon was already munching on a bag of chips, another smaller packet stuffed into his pocket. “Hey if it means I get free food for the rest of my life I’ll gladly support Soonyoung never manning up and telling his soulmate they are soulmates.”

“And that is another thing we have to talk about.” Chan whipped back around still frowning as Soonyoung tried to melt into the couch. “Not only are you wasting all our money, you still don’t even know their name yet!”

Soonyoung mumbled something in response.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you, what was that hyung?” Chan prodded obnoxiously.

“I said they’re not ready yet!” Soonyoung burst out, face red with embarrassment.

“They’re not ready, or you’re not ready?”

“Does it matter?”

Jihoon rolled his eyes. “Of course it does!” He went round the counter and plopped onto the couch, stretching is legs out across Soonyoung’s lap. “It was so annoying for me when Jun wouldn’t just open his mouth and admit we were soulmates.”

Jun gaped. “HEY you could’ve said something too!”

“I asked for your name, number AND asked you on the first date. The least you could’ve done was confronting the soulmate thing.” Jihoon turned back to Soonyoung conspiratorially. “In the end he didn’t even have to do much because we touched and caused a blackout in the restaurant.”

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO TELL ANYONE THAT–”

“He was yelling and hanging on to me and made the whole thing worst.”

“DUDE NOT COOL.” Jun and tried to lunge and grab Jihoon but the smaller boy was faster, the two of them now engaged in a game of circling each other around the couch.

“So in conclusion, tell them first before something embarrassing happens and they get to dangle it like this over your head.”

Chan and Soonyoung watched the two in awe.

“That’s great advice..?” was all Soonyoung could manage before Jihoon was running out of the dorm with Jun chasing quickly behind him.

The room was suddenly quiet.

Chan shook his head slowly. “That was weird.”

“Tell me about it,” Soonyoung dragged a hand down his face. “Ugh it’s not like I don’t want to! It’s…”

“You’re afraid of commitment.”

“What no-!” he spluttered.

“Don’t lie.” Chan’s face softened. “You did just watch your ex-boyfriend talk about how he met his soulmate.”

Soonyoung coloured but didn’t say anything. The younger boy patted his thigh and settled next to him. “But from what you’ve told me, the person waiting back at the convenience store is your soulmate so it’s about time you claimed them, right?”

“But what if they’re not my soulmate?”

“Then apologize, tell them it was a mistake and wait for your actual one to come along.”

“But I– OWW!” There was suddenly blood dripping down Soonyoung’s finger, dripping onto the floor below.

Chan’s eyes widened in shock. “Hyung? How did that happen!”

“I don’t know! It just did, it fucking hurts–” Soonyoung was hit by a sudden realization. “Oh my god it’s Y/N.”

“Who’s Y/N?” Chan gasped. “Wait, is that their name?”

“What?” The cut was aching too badly and all Soonyoung could think about was that you were hurt somehow. What if you were in trouble? Worry surged through him at the thought and he rushed to put his shoes on and get to you.

“Convenience store person! Y/N is their name right? How do you know it if you’ve never asked?”

“I–I don’t know!” Stupidly Soonyoung jumped to the worst conclusion possible and figured that maybe the Universe had kindly gifted him with your name because that was the only thing he would have of you by the end of today. That only made him put on his jacket faster, his wounded finger dripping blood everywhere, clean carpets be damned.

“Wait, hyung where are you going!”

“To the convenience store!”

“Why? We have Band-Aids at home!” But Soonyoung was already stumbling downstairs to his bike, racing towards you.

The gushing blood was making everything messy and gripping the handlebar was painful but Soonyoung managed by leaning forward on his arms and praying he could keep himself balance like that. The streets were relatively empty due to the time of night for which Soonyoung was grateful. He was too distracted to think about anything else other than making it to you and traffic would have just been a hazard.

When he got to the store the lights were all brightly lit and you were behind the counter. He rushed inside without thinking, “Are you okay?!”

You looked up, startled, “W-what?”

“Your finger! Is it okay, are you okay?!” When he looked down at your hand there was already an animal sticker bandage wrapped neatly around your finger. He was so relieved he almost cried. He didn’t but came close to, breathing a huge sigh.

“You’re okay,” he said without realizing. You were looking at him weirdly but he didn’t care. You were okay and that was all that mattered. He looked you in the eyes and smiled brightly. “You’re not hurt.”

“No…” You gestured to his hand. “But you are.”

Suddenly the implications of his actions came crashing down on him and Soonyoung blushed wildly, trying to hide his finger behind his back. He didn’t even bring his wallet to buy anything from here. You watched him with mild amusement.

“Stay here,” you said.

You went to the back and came out with a first aid kit, placing it on the counter between you two.

Soonyoung quickly refused. “You don’t have to do that, I’ll be fine–”

“Shut up and hold your hand out,” you demanded. His flushed deepened but he did as you told, pointing his finger out so it would be easier for you to clean it.

You knew exactly how you had gotten the cut on your own hand – with a rusty pen knife while trying to open a box of Cheetos packets – but you weren’t sure whether his cut would have been formed the same way, so you treated his wound much the same way as you treated your own.

He hissed a little when you poured warm water over the cut but stayed still as you dabbed it dry with the cotton. You rubbed a little antiseptic in with a cotton bud then wrapped a Band-Aid around his finger, an animal print one from the same box where you had taken yours. As you pulled away your fingers brushed. The lights flickered then went off entirely.

Under the dim light of the streetlamps flooding in from outside, you two looked at each other and laughed.

“I guess we can’t say we didn’t see the signs,” Soonyoung chuckled sheepishly.

“I guess not.” He was a shy mess, eyes drifting everywhere but on you so you said, “You’re dressed better today.”

He had on a grey sweater over a white shirt, black pants and a red ribbon around the collar. His hair was swept back and dishevelled, like he had run his hands a few times through it and blown back by the wind.

He grinned. “I could say the same for you.”

You had on something similar except the red was pinned to your chest and there was a black bell choker around your neck.

The silence that followed was charged but not uncomfortable. You smiled cheekily.

“So,” you placed your hands on the counter, facing him. “I take it you are me, soulmate?”

“And I am you,” he returned.

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