#i love soulmate aus...

[iruinn]

every breath of yours is a prayer to my temple ❀ iwaizumi hajime x reader

summary :

Iwaizumi has no soulmarks. He is fine with this. Iwaizumi is also a liar.

cw : smut (mild degradation, unprotected sex)

general tags/notes : OOCness, oikawa/female OC(not reader!), some one-sided pining on iwaizumi's part, as always unbeta read.

read on ao3 here

wc : 6656

MINORS DNI! ty

1.

There are a few unshakeable facts Iwaizumi has always known, as steady as the sun rising in the east. 

His mom and dad are extremely, almost disgustingly in love. Their matching timers (both reading 00:00:00, the countdown having finished far before Hajime was barely a twinkle in his parents' eyes) displayed proudly, 

Oikawa Tooru is his best friend. Despite the soulmark on his upper back (A black crown, standing out against his pale skin), Oikawa has always insisted on Hajime being first in his life. From when they were young, knobbly knees bumping into each other on bus rides back home to now, as he feels of the volleyball reaching his palm perfectly as he smashes it to the other side of the court, its always been Tooru and Hajime. 

Iwaizumi doesn't have a soulmate. 

"I mean," Matsukawa mutters. "Maybe it's just not the type of soulmark that manifests until you meet your soulmate? I've heard of soulmarks like those, rare as they are." 

Iwaizumi doesn't know about that. Wouldn't he have felt the presence of a soulmate? Don't people always talk about how they feel a piece of themselves missing until they meet their other half? 

"Hey, maybe that feeling is just due to the expectation of knowing your soulmate is somewhere out there, you know? Like, you don't actually feel anything but you think you do because you're so conditioned to missing a part of yourself." Hanamaki throws out his hands, spreading them like he had just impressed the wisdom of the ages upon them. Iwaizumi snorts, shaking his head.

"Dude, I think you're delusional."

The comment earns him a punch to the shoulder, but he just shakes it off, dodging Hanamaki's fists. It didn't matter, anyway. He didn't really need a soulmate. He had his team, and he had volleyball. Things were fine as they were, and Iwaizumi would be happy if they continued like this, always. The setting sun behind their backs, as he slung his arms around Oikawa's shoulders, grabbing him in a headlock and ruffling up his disgustingly perfect hair, the laughter of his friends in the spring air. 

He should have known it was too good to last. 

The beginning of the end started with her, he thinks.

A new manager, after their last one had graduated. She slotted into their life, neatly and without pause, like a missing puzzle piece that they didn't realize was missing until it was before them. 

She immediately incited a feeling of overprotectiveness in the team. She laughed along to Hanamaki's and Mattsun's jokes, listened patiently to the excitable first years, and was immediately there to calm him down when he got too angry at Oikawa's flippishness, and recognized when Oikawa was overworking himself and put her foot down to stop him. (Even if it didn't work. Not much could stop Oikawa when he was determined.) 

 His breath caught in his throat, as his team members had thrown sideway glances at him, knowing he was in the same situation. She notices their attention, and looks at him questioningly too. 

And yet, for all her cheerfulness, there were moments where she was overcome by a weird melancholy. Times when she glimpsed the soulmark on Oikawa's back, when his shirt rode up too high, when she noticed Yahaba's nose sometimes bleeding on its own (of all the soulmarks, a shared pain one was definitely an absolute pain in the ass), when she noticed the easy energy between Hanamaki and Matsukawa-

The entire team had noticed, especially Oikawa, who was always doted a lot more on her during those moments. His coy yells of "Manager-chan~" almost always succeeded those moments, as he would proceed to badger her and distract her. 

It's an overnight training camp, over barbeque where she opens up, her voice carrying among the silence underneath the stars. 

"I don't have a soulmate. Never will, I think."

"Ah, that's okay. I don't have one either. But I've never really felt the need for one anyway." He coughs, his ears turning red at the scrutiny. She observes him quietly and quirks an eyebrow. 

"We're in the same boat, Iwaizumi-kun! We have to stick together then!"

He raises his skewer to her in a mimicry of a toast, relishing the sound of her laughter.

Hajime wonders if he's allowed to feel more for her. Was it worth mangling their dynamic so he could reach out and push one of her flowing strands of hair behind her ear? To reach down and take her lips, cupping the back of her neck in his palm? Was he made for her, their unmarked bodies in harmony with each other?

That day results in a change. Oikawa and Iwaizumi  become Oikawa, Iwaizumi and her. She joins them on their walks home now, linking her arms with theirs, as she laughs at him and Oikawa ribbing each other. Their movie nights now have her sprawled across Oikawa's lap, her legs in his as they relentlessly mocked bad horror movies together, throwing popcorn at each other. She watches, water bottles and towels at ready as they relentlessly practice serves and spikes.

The best things come in threes, don't they? 

This friendship of his, their trio, was so precious to him, and he wanted it to remain unbroken. He would push down his feelings for her if he had to protect it. 

Their third and final year of high school arrives with a rush, and with it a sense of finality. The last year of volleyball he'd enjoy with his team, and their final chance to enter the Nationals. The insurmountable wall that was Shiratorizawa loomed over them as always, but this year would be different. It had to be. 

Karasuno was a surprise. Seeing the grumpy kid that used to lurk around Oikawa now become a monstrous setter an extremely unpleasant one, watching Oikawa's anger at the prodigy gutting. But this was just another opponent to crush on their way to the nationals, and he ensured that his spikes were at their fiercest. Karasuno is vanquished, but he knows that the team is stumbling and will be scary once they find their wings. He thinks Oikawa has realized it too. 

The tiny middle blocker from Karasuno makes him feel...weird. A yearning he didn't think was possible to feel. He's mildly insulted that its the annoying chibi of all people that brings it out of him. 

Matsukawa laughs and laughs. "Hey, maybe he's your soulmate?" 

Oikawa's head whips around, and walks up he grips Iwaizumi's head between his hands. "If your soulmate is Tobio's minion, I will never forgive you, Iwa-chan!" Iwaizumi sputters, headbutting him. "Shittykawa, you'd think it'd be a bit more obvious if he was!" 

Iwaizumi wonders when he became Tooru-kun to her. 

Their manager watches them both wrestle, a smile on her face. "Tooru-kun and me will support you no matter what, you know that right?"

"Ah, Iwa-chan...we're together now."

The world ends on a Thursday.

Iwaizumi knew he should have stayed in bed today. Her nervous stride as she slinks up to him forms a strange pit in his stomach. The pink spots of color high up on her cheekbones, her face fighting off a smile. The way Oikawa walks alongside her, her arms linked to his. The way he feels like an intruder now, a voyeur to moments he shouldn't be witnessing. 

He knows what Oikawa is about to say even before he opens his mouth. 

He wonders how he didn't see it before. She covers her face with her hands, blushing furiously, but Oikawa continues looking at him, waiting for something. 

Iwaizumi smiles, punches his best friend in the shoulder lightly. It's okay. Maybe things could still be the same. He turns to her and snorts. "You sure you want to put up with this dumbass?" 

They laugh together, the tension dissipating. He walks with them, but the distance between them has widened. A bitter part of Iwaizumi wonders why Oikawa had to go for her when he had his own soulmate, but he knows that is a selfish thought. He wonders how much of his feelings was solely because they both happened to lack soulmates. 

Oikawa whines, a relieved look crossing his face, so quickly that Iwaizumi wonders if he imagined it. "Iwa-chan, you're so mean! You're still number 1 in my heart, you know?" 

"Shittykawa, have you taken one too many volleyballs to the face or something?" 

It would be nice, he thinks. To have someone to call his own. He watches his best friends as they shyly steal glances at each other, faces red,  and despite that bitterness he hopes they're happy together. And maybe if she met someone despite not having a soulmate, he could too. 

Iwaizumi curses as he strides down the corridor, knowing he's late. Oikawa had slunk away somewhere, and the next match was theirs, but their coach sends  him away to track down their captain. The spring tournament is their last chance at Nationals, and he is extremely high strung already. 

Where had he seen that before? It comes to him in a rush, and he realizes she's a Karasuno student. 

He's too lost in his thoughts to notice the whirlwind barreling down his path, their collision imminent. He notices the girl a second too late, and he struggles to halt his stride, but she crashes into him, sending them both to the floor. 

"Shit,can't you see where you're going??" He yells, and the lump on top of him groans, slowly lifting its head from his chest. He notices her uniform first, the familiarity striking.

The second thing he notices is her forehead and part of her cheek glowing different colours, iridescent. She looks down at him from her position and yelps, her expression going from annoyance to shock as she stares at his face. He feels his heart beating faster, his eyes refusing to leave those glowing marks, watching as they slowly fade away. 

He straightens, grabbing her raised hand, and the places where their skin touches flares to life with color.

She's the most beautiful person he's ever seen, he realizes. 

He sits up, and she flushes red, realizing she's on his lap. She still doesn't move, and raises her hand slowly. He watches, frozen, as she pokes his cheek, almost in a trance. She pulls her finger away, and he notices it's glowing, orange and red. She looks at her finger and at his cheek, and he feels the place she poked him blaze with warmth. He thinks it could burn a hole in him. 

There are a few unshakeable facts Iwaizumi thought he'd always known. They might not have been as immovable as he thought they were. 

His mom and dad are extremely, almost disgustingly in love. Their matching timers (both reading 00:00:00, the countdown having finished far before Hajime was barely a twinkle in his parents' eyes) displayed proudly. 

Oikawa Tooru is his best friend. It's not just Tooru and Hajime anymore, but maybe that's okay. 

Iwaizumi doesn't have might have desperately hopes he's not mistaken  has a soulmate.

2.

You have a soulmate. 

At least, you think you do. You throw the volleyball to your cousin, watching him stumble to receive it. 

"What makes you so sure you do, (name)?" Hinata asks, curious. He tosses the ball back to you and you catch it cleanly, spinning it on a finger. You think it's a fair question. After all, you don't have a soulmark, unlike Hinata. 

"It's just a feeling, you know?" You shrug. "Like I just know there's someone out there for me." You drop the ball, flopping onto the grass under you, and your cousin bounds up to you, throwing his arms around your neck. You pat his fluffy orange hair, feeling a rush of affection. "Of course, it's just a feeling. I'm not as lucky as you, to have such a pretty soul mark." 

Hinata scrambles away from you, lifting his shirt and grimacing. The golden fox is bright, and you wonder what kind of person it belongs to. They must certainly be somewhat flashy, and you're very curious to see how they'd fit your cousin. 

You giggle, getting up and brushing the grass off your shorts, pulling Hinata up with you. "Come on nerd, let's go get some more practice in before Auntie calls us for dinner."

"Blech! I don't care about soulmates anyway! I just want to play some volleyball! I'm gonna play before I graduate middle school, I swear!" 

You believe him. There's very little your cousin can't do when he puts his mind to it. You shoot him a thumbs up and he grins at you. "For what its worth, I think you have a soulmate too! They have to be a really cool person, though, or I'm fighting them off!"

He cheers, and you follow him, your spirits high. 

You've lived with your aunt and cousins for as long as you've remembered. Your parents had died when you were really young, and your mother's sister had taken you in. You got along with your cousins like a house on fire, immediately charmed by Hinata and Natsu. Despite the two year difference between you and Hinata, you both were really close, and you went along with most of his whims, encouraging his interest in volleyball and practicing with him outside your house , throwing the ball at him for hours on end, while Natsu cheered you both on. 

You were happy when he decided to join the same school you were in, even though you'd both only get to share one year together, since you're already in your last year of high school. You both cycle to school together on the first day, and you listen to him chatter away about joining the volleyball club. You remember that the volleyball club at your school didn't have a lot of success, but you hope your cousin has a good time regardless. 

The next day, you laugh high and loud when Daichi grabs you and shakes you, calling your cousin a menace. You know he'd grow on Daichi eventually. The competition the captain had set certainly explained the fervor with which Hinata had practiced back home. 

Reaching school, you see the captain of the team is in your class, Daichi. You're pretty friendly with him and you stride up to him, leaning on his back. He yelps in surprise, then grins back at you when he notices you. "(name), hey! We're in the same class again!"

You smirk, bumping fists with him. "I can't believe we're in our last year of high school already! It feels like yesterday, stumbling into class in out first year..."

He sighs. "Yeah, it's our last shot at making something of the volleyball team too." 

"Speaking off..." You trail off, and he looks at you, curious.  "My baby brother is in his first year of high school and he might be, no scratch that, he's definitely applying to the team. Be nice to him, okay?" 

He raises an eyebrow. "I make no promises. Is he any good at playing?" 

You shrug. "He's short and spunky, real fast. I think he can do anything he puts his mind to, he's just a bit....over excitable." 

You're not surprised when he becomes a full fledged member of the team. 

You try to keep up with your cousin's matches, but your own classes and your determination to get into a good college had you busy for most of the days. You did always make time for when he talked about his matches against the other schools and his own rival/teammate, Kageyama. 

You notice immediately when he comes home one day from a match, quiet. You tilt your head at him questioningly, and he plops down next to you on the ground, sprawling over you. 

"Get off, you lump!" You giggle, pushing him aside, and he whines. "We won today, a practise match against a team. Aobajohsai." 

You fistbump him, but he's clearly out of it, returning it with much less enthusiasm than he normally would. "You're..not as excited as I thought you would be about that."

He sits up, shaking his head. "I am! But their captain didn't join until the very last set, and he was scary." 

"Want me to come to your next match against them and beat him up?" You grin, flashing your muscles (they're very pitiful muscles, unfortunately), and he snorts. "Nah, we'll just win against them again next time! I'm gonna be the best decoy ever!" 

You mildly worry over what Daichi was making your brother do. A decoy? At least he still looked extremely excited about it. You think he wants to tell you about something else, but he shakes the thought away, and you decide to let him be. 

The following weeks bring with it the interhigh, and you hear the volleyball team has been doing pretty well, winning their first two matches. You wave at the team one morning when they're heading out, looking extremely nervous, and you giggle at the second years that immediately pounce on Hinata, asking him how they knew you. You wish them luck, before heading into your school. You're sure they'll bring about another victory.

It's a surprise when Hinata comes home late at night, his eyes red and face rubbed. You bite your lip, realising what happened and watch him absent mindedly fool around with the ball.

"Want to talk about it? 

He sniffs, rubbing his eyes. "We lost. To the grand king."  You tsk. You're not sure who the grand king is, though. 

"Was it close?" He nods, and you put an arm around his shoulder, bringing him into a hug. "You'll get them next time. There isn't much that can keep you down, and your team looks crazy enough to be the same." You think he knows this already, but you're a supportive big sister and you'll give him all the reassurance and praise he deserves. 

He perks up, like he's remembering something. "Oh yeah, (name)! There's a spiker on Aobajohsai who makes me feel weird? His spikes are so cool, they're like BWAAH but he feels very familiar to me somehow..." 

You were halfway to the kitchen, ready to pull out a knife when he said this spiker felt weird, but that explanation was even more bewildering. "Maybe he's your soulmate?" You wonder out loud, and he shakes his head resolutely. "He isn't, I'm sure. Besides, he doesn't really feel like a fox...." 

You point out that his actual soulmate might not feel like one too, but it falls on deaf ears. The conversation is derailed with the both of you discussing whether Hinata's soulmark meant that his soulmate would be a foxy person, and you poke and tease at his red cheeks.

You shake your pom poms at Daichi and Kiyoko, questioningly. "You know, I came here to support my brother, not to become a de facto cheerleader for your baby nerds." 

You had a free day from classes, and decided to accompany the volleyball team to their Spring high. You were already beginning to regret the decision when Kiyoko and the other tiny manager had procured a couple of pom-poms mysteriously from nowhere, pressing them onto you. 

Daichi gives you a thumbs up, enthusiastically. "(name), supporting our team as a cheer leader IS supporting Hinata. We're all a team!" 

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, glancing at Kiyoko, but she just shrugs at you. "Whatever gets them hyped up." 

Resigned, you're glad you decided to doll yourself up a bit for the matches. You'd make the other teams jealous of Hinata for having a cute cheerleader on their side. You nod, resolutely, holding back a grimace when you notice the team looking extremely nervous.

They would be fine...right?

You decide to go hunt down some stomach medicine for the freckled first year, who looked like he was a second away from blowing his breakfast all over the court. Throwing a salute to Kiyoko, you stride away, breaking into a quick jog down the corridors when you hear the announcer. 

You crash into someone at full speed, and you have just enough time to yell out an "Oh shit!" before you take the person down, landing on top of them. The first thing your brain notices is how hard and muscly the body under you is, and you find yourself turning red, pushing yourself up on the boy quickly, stopping when you see his face. 

He's...really handsome. You're kind of mad at how handsome he is. Thick furrowed eyebrows, cute spiky hair, and body built like a brickhouse, and tan cheeks dusted with a pink, that was probably mirroring yours. 

Except...his chin and most of his neck is glowing with a really pretty combination of blue and purple. It looks kind of silly, but they fade away even as you watch. The boy sits up in a hurry, and the position ends up with you on his lap, and you feel your face getting hotter. You look down and notice your own hands are also covered in a weird glow. 

What the...

You raise your hand to his face, unable to stop yourself. You had a hypothesis, and your brain was running at a hundred miles an hour. 

The boy watches you as you press a finger to his face, feeling his warm skin. You pull your finger away and it blazes a bright orange, the spot where you pressed against his cheek also glowing, like a facsimile of a highlight. 

He grabs your hand, and the both of you stare at your interlocked hands, the colors forming slowly where your skin touches. 

Well. You're glad your suspicions about having a soulmate didn't let you down. You kind of think you hit the jackpot with him too, considering he was one of the hottest people you've ever seen. 

His face is blazing red. "What..?" 

Ah.

"I did not mean to say that loud..." You realize you're still on his lap, and you scramble back. He snorts, getting up, and pulling yourself up with him. You note he still hasn't let go of your hand. 

The announcer blares out, and the both of you jump like you're struck by lightning, the dreamy moment broken. He straightens, and points to you.

"After my match." He looks over you, and winces, remembering something. "You're a Karasuno student, huh...I'm pretty sure our next match is against your team. I'll find you after we win." 

You puff up in indignation. The audacity! 

"My baby brother and his team are going to kick your ass!" You stomp your feet, turning around to storm away, your hair whipping around your face. You feel a hand wrap around your upper arm as he pulls you back into him, snorting in amusement at your anger. 

"You're also really pretty, by the way." You huff, looking around for people before reaching in and pressing a quick kiss to his cheeks, extremely light and quick, the only hint of it the light glow on his cheek that fades away in a second. You wonder if your lips are tinted. You guess they are, from the way he stares at them. 

"Charmer. I'll see you later. Sorry about rooting against you." 

You escape his grasp while he's still shocked from your kiss, winking at him. You had a nervous team to cheer for.

You hunt down your soulmate after the match. You had explained to Hinata quickly what had happened before the match started, and he nodded at you understandingly when you slink away from the celebrating team. You find a lone figure sitting on a bench, head bent, and you sigh, hoisting up the moist towels in your arm, glad you came prepared.

You sneak up to him, wrapping a towel around his neck, and he whips his head at you in shock, before relaxing and realizing who it was. 

"Come to gloat?" He asks, before a regretful look crosses his face. 

You move in front of him, holding his face in your hands. You watch his cheeks glow as you rub your fingers across them gently. It's weird how comfortable you are with doing that, but he didn't seem bothered by it either so you aren't going to stop.

"I'm going to ignore that because I understand that you're sad. For what it's worth, you were really cool out there." 

"We still lost." 

"Karasuno's pretty scary now, huh." You grin, proudly, and he lets out a sigh. "My brother, Hinata. He's the spunky middle blocker." 

Okay, maybe you were gloating a bit. But today was the first time you saw them in action, and they were a lot more intense and good than you expected. You didn't know a lot about volleyball, but the stuff they were doing definitely looked super cool. You kind of understood Hinata's descriptors of 'BWAAH' and 'BOOM' now to describe their moves.

"That kid is your brother? That explains some things.." You look at him questioningly, and he shakes his head at you. 

"I'm not gonna ask, I think. Iwaizumi, right?" 

He's startled, realizing he doesn't even know your name. You introduce yourself to him, and he mouths your name, voicing it out. 

"It's Hajime to you. You're my soulmate." 

You grin at him, pulling him up from the bench. "Hajime, then. You know, there's a silver lining to your team losing today." He grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers. You lean onto him cheerfully. "What is it?" 

"You get to be comforted by your soulmate, of course! Let's go get some dinner, on me!" 

Clearly cheered up by the prospect, he smiles at you, and you feel your heart flutter. Seriously, you must have saved a country in your previous life to get a soulmate this cute. You were determined to stain him with every color of the rainbow all over his body by the end of today. 

He pulls you along. "Let me introduce you to my team first." You walk alongside him, wrapping yourself around his arm, needling at him to explain to you volleyball terms, the colors at the junction of where your skin meets his as bright as the setting sun. 

There are a few unshakeable facts to his life that Hajime knows will never change.

His mom and dad are extremely, almost disgustingly in love. Their matching timers (both reading 00:00:00, the countdown having finished far before Hajime was barely a twinkle in his parents' eyes) displayed proudly. They also adore you, and you adore them right back. 

Oikawa Tooru is his best friend. When he introduces you to him, you cheerfully exclaim  "Grand king! I think I'm supposed to beat you up!" and Oikawa sputters. Hajime doesn't hold back his laughter as Oikawa pouts, but you're paying more attention to Hajime, distracted by his laughter, moving in again to brush your fingers across his cheek. 

Hajime loves seeing the colors appear on you. He loves the different shades they take, how they perfectly look like the imprint of his fingers when he presses them into your waist, when he grips the back of your neck and kisses you, when he brushes them across your forehead. He especially loves seeing them on your lips. He thinks they probably look a bit ridiculous to other people with their stained lips, but to him its the most endearing thing he's ever seen. 

You also love seeing the colors on him. You've always been a bit possessive of your belongings, and Hajime is yours in a way no one else will ever be. You love watching the colors appear on his arms as you grip them, wrapping yourself around him as you both walk together. You also adore pressing kisses to his cheeks and lips, surprising him almost every time you do it. You know the marks you leave on his neck sometimes last much for an entire day, and you know he deals with the ribbing from his teammates every time they see it. It just entices you to leave more. 

Most of all, Hajime knows that his soulmate loves him. 

3.

The colours dance around your boyfriend’s chest, as you trail your fingers down it. You’re lying on top of him, your arm crossed and supporting your head on his stomach, as you entertain yourself.

You pout when he stays asleep, dead to the world. Apparently your naughty shenanigans last night had knocked him out good, and you’re kind of proud of yourself for it.

But that was neither here nor there, and right now you wanted his attention. You moved up, biting his cheek, and he jostles awake with surprise, closing his eyes again when he realizes it’s just you.

“Go back to sleep then, baby.”

“Brat…”

You giggle, tweaking his nose.“I’m bored, Hajime.”

With a groan, you bury your face in his neck, enjoying his warmth and smell. “Don’t wanna. You’re so busy with your team…it feels like forever since we’ve been like this.”

He’s silent at your words, his hands coming down and squeezing your thighs, pulling at them. “Hey…I’m sorry about that. You’ve given up so much for me and I’ve repaid you by being too busy to spend time with you...”

You raise your head, frowning, and flick his forehead. “Ow!”

“Idiot!” Your cheeks puff up in anger. “You’re following your dreams, Hajime. It’s so fucking cool that you’re a trainer for the Olympics team now. You don’t have to apologize to me for anything. You’re my soulmate and I love you.”

He stares at you, his expression warm. Bending down, his lips brush across your cheeks lightly, and you giggle at the feeling. “I don’t deserve you.” He pulls back, watching the colour dance across your cheeks and nose where his lips brushed your face, before fading away.

You scoff at him. “You deserve the best.”

“And that’s you?”

“Of course it is.” You poke your tongue out at him. “What’s got you in such a melancholic mood today?” Any other time with you naked on him would have led to a lot of teasing and groping by now. He’s holding himself back.

“I met Tooru today.”

“Oh?” You sit up on his chest, curiously, and he supports you without any effort, his hands moving up to your waist.

“He told me he found out who his soulmate is, love.”

“But isn’t he still dating that manager of yours from high school..?” Hajime nods, and you whistle. “He’s pretty conflicted about the whole thing. He feels really bad for leaving his soulmate alone, but he’s been dating her for as long as we have. He thought they’d make it.” You’re silent at first. “So this is what’s gotten you worried?”

“He’s my best friend and I’ve been worrying about him forever..I’ve rarely seen him this broken up about things.”

You run your fingers over his hard stomach and chest comfortingly. “He’ll figure it out, Hajime. He always has.” Admittedly, you’ve always been a skeptic of him and his girlfriend. You frown at the thought. Hajime had told you pretty early on about his feelings for her and you often thought about how you would have felt if you had met Hajime while he was dating her instead. And now someone else was in that position.

Your boyfriend knows you well, and immediately knows where your mind is heading. He picks up your hand with his, interlocking your fingers and kissing it. “Idiot. I’m here with you now.” You slap at his chest.

“I know! I can’t believe you ever thought you didn’t have a soulmate.”

His fingers pinch at your thigh and you yelp in surprise. “My apologies, princess. Not all of us can have the same self-confidence you did when you thought you had a soulmate. I didn’t even have a mark.”

“And now you’re covered with them all the time.”

He knows that if he looked down where your body met his, it’d be glowing with different colours. The colours themselves were sometimes bright, sometimes muted, sometimes they’d last for hours and sometimes they would fade away after he took his hands off you, so quickly it’s like they were never there.

You’ve tested the way the colours appear extensively (intentionally and unintentionally…you’ve always found it hard to keep your hands off him) but you’ve never discovered any sort of pattern. You both concluded that it was just random, if pretty.

“Totally not embarrassing having to show up for training with orange marks all over my neck. You know your cousin is on the team, right?”

You giggle unapologetically at him. “Just think of it as revenge for whatever PDA Hinata and Atsumu throw at you. I know it’s a lot.”

Your boyfriend groans at the very thought. “I have lost count of the amount of times I’ve spiked balls into their heads to interrupt them. I thought we were bad. Most of the team is very traumatized.”

You coo at him. “My poor baby. We are definitely worse and you know it.”

He snorts. “I’ll show you worse.”

He lifts you, both hands going around your waist, making you support yourself on your knees. You start to complain before you’re silenced quickly, your words cutting off into a moan as he releases one hand from your waist to rub you, experienced fingers finding your clit quickly.

You’ve been together for quite a while, and know each other’s bodies as well as your own by now. It doesn’t take him long to work you up into a frenzy, his fingers entering you.

“You’re so wet already for me, you cute little slut.” He stretches you, his fingers scissoring. “Just look at that.”

He withdraws them from inside you and you whine in annoyance at the sudden emptiness, your thighs shaking. You flush red looking at the juices from you coating his fingers.

“Hajime…please.”

“Hmm? Please what?” You’re annoyed at how unbothered he looks lying down in comparison to your flustered self, and you poke at his chest. He repays you with a spank to your ass, and you yelp in surprise. “Behave. And use your words. I know that pretty mouth has its uses other than moaning for me.”

You’re pouting, but you’re enjoying this tremendously, and he knows it. Nothing gets you hot and bothered more than your boyfriend going all authoritative on you.

“I need you in me..”

You sit back down on him, feeling him hot and hard right under you. Moving back and forth slowly, you grind on him, covering him in slick.

You pick up the hand of his that was inside you, inserting his fingers in your mouth and tasting yourself on him. He grips your cheek, dislodging your hands.

“Shit..shit, okay.”

He lets go of your face, lifting you again slightly, before entering you. Your body arched as he pushed the head of the shaft in, your wetness offering little resistance. You both groan in unison as you bottom out. “Can’t hold myself back against you, baby girl.”

You giggle as you feel his thickness fill you out. You supported your hands on his stomach as you began to move up again slowly, and gasped as his hips surged up to meet yours with ease.

Hajime runs his hands down your body, his fingers tweaking at your nipples, grinning at the temporary stain of colour that covered them. You looked ever so pretty on his dick, bouncing up and down, covered in the colours that marked you solely as his. Your eyes are closed, your hair flowing down your back, the sounds of your skin slapping against his intermixed with the soft sound of rain outside your window.

He continues moving his hips slowly, the warmth of you covering him so well it’s driving him a little bit insane. He takes the opportunity while your eyes are closed to reach a single arm out to the side where the nightstand drawer is, extracting something he’d been keeping hidden for a while.

You’re in heaven, as he hit your sweet spots, filling you out so well, your pussy clenching around him tight. You startle as he picks up your hand lying on his chest and you feel something cold moving down your finger.

“What..?”

Your eyes fly open, looking down to where he’s interlocked your fingers with his. Your eyes lock onto the shiny band now adorning your fingers, the rock on it glittering. You pause moving, your brain trying to catch up. You meet his eyes, and they’re warm with his love, the unasked question in the air.

“You’re…you’re such an idiot, Hajime!” You gasp out, tears springing into your eyes. A hint of worry is in his expression as he notices your damp eyes. “Sweetheart..?”

“Hurry up and cum in me so I can admire my new ring! Who proposes during sex? We’re gonna get my sweat all over it!”

You whine, and he laughs, sitting up, leaning against the headboard. He grips your waist as your arms fly around his neck, and kisses you as he speeds up, gripping your ass. “I love you.” His lips continue to move across your face, kissing away your tears, swallowing your moans, until they finally latch onto your neck, as he bites and sucks at it. Your nails dig into his back. “I’m close, Hajime-“

“I got you, baby, it’s okay.”

You bury your face in his shoulders as you climax, feeling your cum mix with his as he empties himself inside you, the mixture of fluids leaking out. You shiver as you both take a moment to get a hold of yourselves, and he adjusts himself again, whispering praises into your ear as he falls back onto the bed ,taking you down with him, still inside you. You lie down on his chest, panting, feeling his move up and down with you as he kisses the top of your head.

You turn your head to the side when you’ve caught your breath, bringing up your hand to your face and examining the ring on it.

“I swear I had a proper proposal all planned out.” He grabs your hand, rubbing across it with his thumb. “I was going to take you out to a fancy dinner, get on my knees, go the whole way. Bribe the waiter to put the ring in champagne.”

You flush at his words, feeling your eyes dampen again. “You’re making me tear up again.”

“You looked so pretty right there. I couldn’t resist.” He kisses your hand gently. “I’m sorry for not making it fancier.”

“It’s perfect.” You lift your head, joining your lips to his. “I’d marry you right now if I could. I like the sound of Mrs. Iwaizumi a lot…”

He hisses, turning you both to your sides, hooking your leg around his. “You’re going to get me going again if you call yourself that.”

You laugh. “So eager to wife me up, Hajime?”

“Have been for years, baby girl.” Gripping at your thighs, he pulls himself out of you, admiring the sight of your cum and his dripping out of you. You wince at the feeling of the liquids cooling between your thighs, and he notices, getting out of bed and lifting you in his arms. “Shower first, though.”

“Ooooh.” You wrap your arms around his neck as he carries you in, hooking your head on his shoulder and admiring your hand with the ring. “So husbandly already, Mr. Iwaizumi~”

You hear his smile as the door shuts behind you and he places you on the bathroom counter, leaning in. Your hand grips his hair as he nips at you, the two of you marking each other with the colours of the rainbow. “Anything for my future wife.”

[karalovesallthegirls]

Kara has always dreaded the day she’d meet her soulmate. 

There’s relief in knowing she has one, of course. The person meant for her didn’t die with Krypton. That’s something! Even still, it’s hard to feel excited for the moment they meet, because that’s the moment Kara will hurt them. She’s had their exclamation of pain inked into her skin for as long as she’s been on Earth. In some ways it’s better. Most people have phrases like “good morning” or “hold the door please” as their soulmate’s first words. They have to endure hundreds of almosts, breath held just in case that stranger really is the one. Kara won’t have to do that. Her words are far too distinct.

It's agony, thinking about how their meeting will go. She spends years imagining every possible scenario, each one more painful than the last, yet the day it happens she barely even registers it. The words wash right over her, drowned out by the loud crack as her hand makes sudden contact with a stranger's face. The telltale crunch of contact shocks her. She hadn't registered anyone was there during her dramatic retelling, otherwise she would have kept her gestures small. She wouldn't have flung her hand out with such force.

The woman she's hit is hunched over, clutching at her face. She gasped loud and sharp when it hit, and now she's just wheezily breathing in shock. Kara can see blood starting to drip down her wrist.

“Did you," the woman gasps, and her voice sounds wet. "Did you just break my nose?” Kara wants to die.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay? I am so sorry!”

People are looking at them and the woman keeps cursing under her breath and Kara really, really doesn’t know what to do. Her hands hover uselessly over the hunched figure, desperate to soothe but scared to touch in a moment like this. “I didn’t mean to – I was telling a story and I got too excited with my hands I guess, I didn’t see you there. Are you- can I-”

She looks to Alex for guidance, but she’s just staring at the interaction with a wide-eyed wonder. Typically her sister knows what to do in a scary situation, but now she’s looking just as clueless. They’re both barely awake at this point – it’s six in the morning and they’ve been at this airport terminal since midnight, miserably watching their red eye flight push into a mid-day departure. They’re both half-delirious, which is fun when you’re goofing off but less so when you’ve just broken a stranger’s nose. 

And then it hits her. The words she’s carried on her arm for so many years are tingling, she realizes, and they’ve been tingling from the second her skin met the girl’s. 

Did you did you just break my nose?

“Oh wow,” Kara says, dumbfounded. “It’s you.” The woman falls silent. She must be realizing too Kara thinks as she fumbles with her sleeve, pushing it up enough to show her inked arm. The woman's eyes drop to the tattoo that's brought such shame to Kara for so long. She feels her eyes like a touch. “I – I’m so happy to meet you! I’m so sorry it happened like this.” She laughs and it sounds strained. Her hands are shaking. The woman doesn't look up from her arm.

Even hunched over in pain, it's clear the woman is beautiful. Important, even, considering how she's dressed. She's dressed like she's en route to lead a business conference, her tight black skirt and matching blazer scream business professional. Though the effects are tampered a bit by the splattering of blood that’s dripped down her white blouse. Kara wonders how old she is to be dressed like that. She must be older to look like that. At nearly nineteen, Kara has never had anything more than a graduation to dress nicely for, and even then she wore her stained dress pants. This woman - her soulmate - must be much older than her, which feels strange to think. She looks Kara's age, maybe even younger. If not for how clearly tailored to her body her clothes are, she'd almost look like she was playing dress up.

Kara feels self-conscious then, sharply aware of how she must look to her soulmate. As smart as it felt to come to the airport in pajamas for her all-night flight, standing in rubber duck pajama pants while trying to have a conversation with her goddess of a soulmate did little for Kara's confidence.

When Kara’s eyes finally track back up to her face, she finds sharp green ones staring back. They're the prettiest eyes she's ever seen, and they don't seem interested in looking away. That's fine with her - she's more than content to stare right back.

It's only the soft plop of blood hitting tile that draws her attention back to her crime, and she can see the way the woman's hands have become covered in blood. "Oh gosh, here - let me…”  Kara fumbles in her backpack for a moment with no clear plan. All she knows is she has to do something to fix this. She fumbles about before pulling out a clean t-shirt. “Here. For the-” She holds it out to the girl and gestures at her own face. Slowly, like she’s scared Kara might grab her or something, the woman takes the offered shirt. She wipes the blood from her face and hands, dabbing beneath her nose. The bleeding seems to have stopped, at least, and the shirt helps contain what's escaped. Watching a stranger wipe blood on her high school band t-shirt shouldn’t thrill Kara as much as it does, and yet.

Kara laughs again, the sound nervous and high-pitched, before taking a step towards her. Her soulmate’s eyes go wide, tracking her movements, and Kara's heart clenches when she steps away. The rapid race of her soulmate's heart beats into Kara's ear - she can literally hear her fear. She holds her hands up in surrender, stepping back to where she’d been before. The last thing she wants is for her to be afraid. “Does it hurt?” she asks, and her soulmate shakes her head no. “That’s good. That’s good. I- uh." She has nothing more to say, and her soulmate's certainly not contributing. Kara’s palms are sweating. She hasn’t sweat since she was thirteen, but one look from this person has her rubbing her hands on her pajama pants like a middle schooler at a dance.

The woman finishes wiping up and lets her arms fall, blessing Kara with her first real look at her face. Bloodied and skittish, she’s beautiful in a way Kara can hardly comprehend, in a way she could never imagine. Kara's pretty sure she's blushing now for some reason, and she has to flex her toes to be sure she’s still touching the ground. “My name’s Kara,” she says, and then gestures over her shoulder. “That’s my sister Alex. We’re flying home for winter break. Midvale - Midvale is home for us. Where- where are you flying to?”

The woman stares and stares, and Kara's starting to panic thinking she'd given her soulmate a head injury that's muted her somehow, when at last the woman speaks just barely above a whisper.

“Home,” she says. It feels like her heart might burst just from hearing that one stilted word. Kara wants to hear a thousand more, wants to hear nothing else for the rest of her life.

“That’s awesome. W-where’s home for you?” The woman's lip trembles as she opens her mouth, closes it, and then opens it again.

 “I’m sorry,” she says, and then throws the t-shirt at Kara’s face. 

Kara fumbles catching it, distracted by the shock and gross factor of having a blood-soaked shirt hurled at her face, and it takes her far too many precious seconds to realize her soulmate is gone. Bewildered, Kara looks around before just catching sight of her vanishing around the corner, high heels and racing heart clattering away. She looks at Alex. Alex waves at her, frantic. “Go!” Alex yells, and Kara takes off.

Pretending to be a human has never been harder than it is while chasing after her soulmate. Normal human pace - especially what's acceptable at an airport - is not fast enough for this, not when the woman has already gotten so far ahead. Kara must look ridiculous, bursting into sprints only to trip suddenly into a walk over and over again, her ears locked on to the thudding heartbeat and faint whispers of her soulmate mumbling, “crap crap crap crap,” ahead.

Kara’s thankful they’re in an airport, at least. Her soulmate can’t just run outside, and Kara is fine embracing the romcom trope of following her love onto the plane. Her soulmate stops moving ahead and Kara speeds up, nearly wiping out twice tripping over luggage and small children. Her heart is in her throat as she clears the corner her soulmate is behind and pushes her way into the door she's passed through. All the wind knocks out of her lungs then when she sees her again. The woman looks up at her in shock, as if she didn't think Kara would chase her. As if Kara would just let her go. With a visible gulp, her soulmate flees around a corner and disappears out of sight. Kara manages a single step forward before a body blocks her way, and she looks up to see a massive security guard staring down at her.

“Membership card, please.”

Kara tries to peer around him. He steps in her way, cutting her vision off. Her soulmate led her into some private place you can't just walk into, she realizes, glancing around at the sleek appearance and exclusive atmosphere. “I- uh, left my card in my other bag,” she says, gesturing back over her shoulder. She can hear her soulmate’s breathing and it's all she can focus on. She’s right there. Just out of sight. Kara is so close. “I’m afraid you need your card to enter the fly lounge,” he says sternly. He starts pushing gently at her, trying to nudge her back out of the sliding glass door she’s come in. Kara almost forgets to let him move her. “I- I’m sorry, someone I need to talk to just went in there and I-” She stops in the doorway, hand firm on the wall. She can hear the way the guard huffs against her solid pressure. She’s not acting very human right now and she knows it.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, ma’am," he says, pushing more forcefully against her. Forceful enough that she knows she has to move even as all her instincts war against it. “Can- can I buy a membership? Like a day pass or something?”

The guard looks over at the front desk, making eye contact with a woman who looks like she would rather watch Kara be flayed alive than allowed another step inside.

“A day membership is $189 plus tax,” she whines out in a nasally voice, tone making clear she already knows Kara won’t be affording that. Which is accurate. Kara barely has enough to buy a meal. 

Looks like her soulmate is rich, then.

The man nudges her back again and a flash of panic echoes through her chest. For a moment, she envisions herself throwing him out the open door, tossing aside anything or anyone that tries to keep her from her future. But she’s already scared her soulmate enough for one day, so she smiles with forced bashfulness and allows herself to be walked back out of the lounge.

The frosted glass door marked High Flyers Club Lounge shuts her out mockingly. But it’s fine! Eventually her soulmate’s flight time will be here and she’ll have no choice but to come out and face her. Kara just has to be patient. (Kara hates being patient.)

She takes a seat against the wall across from the lounge entrance. Her glasses rest low on her nose as she stares her soulmate, soaking in every inch of her as she paces in the luxurious lounge. Her heart is racing, she seems on the edge of a panic attack, and Kara wants desperately to be in there with her talking her down. But she can’t, so she’s left to watch – at least until the girl steps into the private restroom. She stops watching after that. Instead, she settles down to listen to the comforting beat of her soulmate’s heart, closer now than it’s ever been.

Her mind wanders as she waits, mentally reviewing every moment of their interaction. Considering where she failed, where she succeeded. Making lists about what to say to her next. She never got her name, for one thing, and she still doesn’t know where her home is. There’s so much for her to learn.

Her mental meandering is so consuming that it takes her a bit to realize the heartbeat has moved farther away. At first she thinks her soulmate is just moving around the club, but no- she’s moving away from the airport.  A quick glance through walls shows her that her soulmate isn’t in the club anymore. The heartbeat is elevating, she realizes, and Kara runs to the glass wall just in time to see the plane - small, private, with an apparent access point from within the lounge – take off. 

Horror and confusion overwhelm her, bringing tears to her eyes. This doesn't make sense. Why would she just leave without saying a word? Why would her soulmate do that? It's almost unbearable, the pain of it. She doesn’t know how long she stands there, face pressed to the glass, listening as the heartbeat grows quieter and quieter before vanishing all together.

Kara learns a lot about grief after that. 

She knew a lot already – far more than any one person should ever know – but that grief carried a different weight. The loss of her people wasn't a choice by them. They didn't want to die. The loss of her soulmate is its own beast, sharp and cruel in her heart, because this time the person she mourns chose to abandon her. Her soulmate chose to leave. She saw Kara that morning and decided that one look was enough, that Kara wasn't worth any more of her time. She left her there with nothing but a bloody t-shirt and a thousand questions. Kara never even learned her name.

She goes through the stages – she feels her anger burning out in her eyes, feels the sorrow take hold. She denies it, she bargains with everyone, anyone. She calls the Flyer’s Club, tries calling the FAA. She tracks flight logs and makes cold calls and still finds nothing at all. She writes about it on soulmate websites and Medium articles, casting a wide net so that someday when – if, her mind reminds her. if if if - her soulmate ever looks she’ll be able to find her.  

Time dulls the sharpness, though, and the years shift that rejected feeling into a more muted anger. Kara doesn't care about the love lost. She doesn't care if the person is her other half. All she cares about is the anger. Finding her feels more like a hunt than a quest for love – she’s got a lot to say to the other woman when they finally meet again. She just wants one more meeting, that’s all. Just enough time to tell her exactly where she can go. Kara doesn’t need a soulmate, after all. Her life is full of love and joy and adventure, and she doesn’t need another person to complete her. She graduates college with a degree in English, minor in Journalism – her attempts to track down her soulmate really ignite the journalistic bug in her, and with Clark’s constant encouragement it feels inevitable. She moves to a big city despite her small-town fears and she gets a job almost no one survives. Kara is thriving.

It almost shocks her, then, the way her heart trips over itself when she sees her again.

They’re watching the trial, her and Alex, and Alex is halfway through a lecture on how she’d always known Lex Luthor was evil by the way he wore his pants – (“Good guys don’t wear their pants that high, Kara, it’s common sense.”) – when Kara's nerves jolt like a lightning bolt has rushed through her. Her gasp is so sharp Alex screams almost in sympathy. 

“What? What is it?” Alex yells at her, looking around for some danger lurking nearby. Kara tumbles to the floor practically crawling to the television screen. Someone new has taken the stand, someone she'd recognize anywhere.

“Alex,” she says, jamming her finger against the somewhat grainy image projected on her television. “It's her.” “What!” “My soulmate!" Kara knows it like she knows herself, even after all this time. She looks different. Six years of struggle sit clear in her hard gaze, her mouth twisted into solemn resignation. She looks almost casual on the stand, sitting comfortably despite the eyes of the world on her. Like it's just a regular conversation. Like she’s not about to help send her brother to prison for life. “Lena Luthor, sister of the defendant” reads the helpful banner beneath her grim face. Even after everything, Kara is struck by her. She's breathtaking. Kara kind of hates her for it. “Hold on, that’s- you barely even saw her when you met! You don’t know for sure.” Alex sounds desperate, which is fair. The younger sister of the man who tried to kill Superman is certainly not an ideal soulmate for someone like Kara, but it doesn't matter. It's her. “I’m sure,” she says, and feels the truth of it deep in her bones.

A giggle hits her then that's so inappropriate for the moment it makes her feel crazy, but she can't help it. As Lena Luthor begins to explain the piles of evidence she’s gathered against her brother, Kara giggles away. She feels almost drunk on it, smug and satisfied. “Found you,” she says, almost like a taunt. She drags her finger over the screen, feeling the static of her ancient television biting back at her as she caresses Lena Luthor's face. The anger that’s long settled inside of her seems to reignite with every charged word Lena speaks against her brother, with every glance she makes at the camera. She can feel Alex’s nervous energy behind her but she doesn’t care. The politics of this, the implications - none of it matters to Kara. What matters is she has a name, and she has a general location. She's so close she can practically taste it. “See you soon, soulmate,” Kara whispers, and for a second it feels almost like Lena is staring right back.

[ew-selfish-art]

DpxDc AU: Tim as a child was never given a lot of information regarding the scribbling messy handwriting that appeared over night all over his arms- naturally he came to his own conclusions.

Tim Drake was home entirely alone at 9 years old and was about to go out for the night to test his brand new long exposure camera lens when he sees the writing on his arm. It’s not English, like he assumed it was at first, but it was using the alphabet to represent… Tim isn’t bad at math but this formula is complex for his little genius brain.

Looking at his camera, he decides he can spare a moment to look it up, solve it, and get back out into old town Gotham in time for Batman and Robin’s final patrol lap. He does just that, finding the problem to relate to some aerospace engineering and then quickly deduces what laws and theorems need to be applied. He finds a pen, writes down his findings in much neater handwriting onto his arm, and goes out. It’s barely a remarkable night at all. He gets a much more memorable photo of Robin roundhouse kicking a hench person.

Things just continued on that way. Tim would find some complex math, physics or chemistry prompt on his arm (surrounded by various question marks or notes or sad faces)- he’d answer it as best he could and move on with his life. Perhaps his parents were manifesting these pop quizzes? Perhaps his subconscious felt guilty about abandoning his studies for more Bat related pursuits? Tim really didn’t care to think much about it once he became Robin- there was too much on his plate and too many peoples problems for him to fix.

Notably, however, after the attack at the Tower, the pop quiz appeared and Tim wrote back that he wouldn’t be able to find an answer to this one. It was the only time Tim questioned the markings appearance and it was because the next thing that appeared was “Hope you feel better soon.”

… his parents wouldn’t include that on a pop quiz. Cursed then. Tim decided it must be a curse, whatever, he’d deal with the implications later in life.

Tim then has the worst year of his life, hes 15, no longer Robin and the questions from his curse are getting less math oriented and more… philosophical. A lot of mentions of death that, in hindsight helped him actually grieve, and a lot of theories about dark matter and souls. Tim answers back as best he can but he’s drained and his answers aren’t very good in his opinion. He gets minimal feedback.

It all comes to a point that he’s at a family dinner, Bruce is at the head of the table, Jason has promised just to stay for dessert, Damian hasn’t thrown a single insult his way and Steph was laughing at him- when a new theoretical model appears on his arm.

“You’re just as bad as Bruce, Timberly. Hiding a soulmate from all of us, how fucking typical.” Jason points out, while watching Tim scribble back some math with a question mark onto his arm.

“A what? No, this is just a curse. I get pop quizzes every now and then.” Tim bats away Steph who rapidly approaches and began to analyze his arm (the rest of the family isn’t far behind).

“Drake. Explain how you came to this conclusion.” Damian seems more curious than anything, if his lack of insults was anything to go off of.

“Since I was young I’ve had at least weekly math check ins, I never had a parent or anyone else around so I assumed my parents had me cursed to ensure I stayed on top of my studies. Sometimes it’s physics or chemistry, for a while there it was a ton of philosophy and behavioral psychology.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Master Tim, I believe the lack of adults in your life has led you towards a false conclusion. That is most certainly a soulmate mark. The individual to whom you are responding is undoubtedly your other half.” Alfred attempts to calm the room before explaining to Tim. Tim isnt sure if he believes the butler, though Alfred only very rarely lied, so he grabs the pen once more. He writes his first question back: “Who am I to you?”

The room waits in anticipation and within moments a brand new line appears on Tim’s arm and he is vindicated: “We do math together???”

——

The reason Danny is failing English is because his built in homework helper sucks ass at metaphors and has apparently never read any classic literature. The tutor on his arm is great at puzzles and math tho.

Danny gets a reply back one night that he wasn’t expecting (Who am I to you?) and he mentions it to Jazz. Who goes insane that Danny didn’t even question it and just went with “meh, probably haunted” as his explanation for the phenomenon for all these years.

Apparently, if Jazz was right, he had a soulmate who was uh, super fucking smart. That was an overwhelming thought.

The next day Danny is in crisis mode and writes back “Wait, WHAT AM I TO YOU??? Can I help on your homework??”

Danny gets vindicated when the writing on his arm presents a shit ton of dates and information for an unsolved Gotham cold case. See, Haunted.

———

Eventually between Danny becoming the top candidate for astrophysics at Wayne Enterprises and Tim Drake being outed as having contributed tips to the GCPD that solved cold cases- they meet and realize just how dumb they’ve been.

[foryouthegays]

aspec means whatever the fuck u want it to mean if u id with aro or ace in any fuckin way and call urself some form of aspec ur good idgaf .and this is like .average soulmate au .idfk if u see something and its soulmate au would u click.

[meraki-sunset]

🧡💚Higher💚🧡

I call this:

Ya get it? time and place, space + time, just me? ok

This is what i imagine adult Crow and Jade on Earth-C would do every now and then when they are tired of rutine.

Cropped parts of the drawing because i love Jade's pose and face

I found a cool pose reference, i blacked out and woke up to this.

Enjoy!

[morphean42]

Don’t give me soulmates, give me ‘I’ll find you in every universe not because we are meant to be, but because I chose you over everyone else’. Give me ‘we were never supposed to meet, but I will never love anyone more than you’. Give me ‘the universe didn’t tell us we were destined to be lovers, but I decided to love you anyway’

There’s something inherently more romantic about choosing someone on purpose than just loving them because that’s what is supposed to happen

[metalhoops]

‘Of course, I remember you.’ 

As far as first words go, Eddie’s were a hell of a head-scratcher. 

To catch up the uninitiated, everyone in the world has a soulmate. It’s been debated and speculated if a person can have more than one, but the mechanics behind soulmates was a pseudo-science at best and downright magic at worst. The first words a person’s soulmate spoke to them were inscribed somewhere on that person’s body, typically in their soulmate’s handwriting. 

Doesn’t handwriting change over time? The uninitiated might ask, to which Eddie would repeat, it’s pseudo-science or magic. Either that or something like quantum mechanics, where people are pretty sure, one day we’ll understand how it works, but right now there are a lot of theories and only a little bit of evidence, most of which contradicts itself.

Most of the time, the words are boring and wholly unhelpful. He could count on two hands the number of people that simply had some variation of ‘hello’, tattooed somewhere on their body. From Eddie’s point of view, he got lucky. 

He had a sentence of scratchy scrawl written on his inner arm stating, ‘of course, I remember you’. And really, what the hell was Eddie meant to make of that? 

Typically, your tattoo lets you know you’d found your soulmate upon first meeting, but his words implied he’d meet his soulmate before they first speak and that it would be memorable. Wasn’t that goddamn frustrating? 

His soulmate’s first words were right up there with ‘hello’ in Eddie’s list of ‘top five worse soulmate marks,’ because how the hell were those poor bastards meant to know if they’d just met the love of their life or if it was just their weird neighbour Tom? With his number one spot reserved for Gareth’s truly horrific, ‘I’d thought you’d be taller’. His soulmate was original. He’d give him that. 

There was no surefire way to know your soulmate’s gender, same as there was no surefire way for a mother to ‘just know’ a baby’s gender before it was born. Yet if Eddie was being sacrilegious, as he so often was, he’d say he ‘just knew’ his soulmate was a guy. 

There was nothing in the handwriting that gave it away. Nothing particularly ‘feminine’ or ‘masculine’ about the lettering. But ever since Eddie was a kid whenever he thought about his soulmate, he’d always think of them as ‘him’. 

He would like this or that. He wouldn’t be an asshole, like the meathead jocks at Hawkins. He would be different. He’d be kind, caring, and of course, a total badass. Eddie just had to wait to meet him. 

Steve’s soulmate mark drove him crazy. 

‘You might not remember me’. 

What the hell was Steve meant to do with that? Soulmate tattoos were meant to let you know when you’d met your soulmate, not that you’d already met them. In the days before Steve received the shake-up of his life in the form of Nancy Wheeler and the Upside Down, he had a reputation for sleeping around. He knew back then he’d been a little hopeless, but surely he’d said more than a couple of words to a girl before he slept with them. 

It horrified Steve that he could meet his soulmate, in some respect, know them, and yet had never talked to them. Could he really be that much of a jerk?

He’d never thought Nancy was his soulmate. He knew their words didn’t match up. That didn’t mean he loved her any less. Statistically, the odds of meeting your soulmate were somewhere between getting crushed by a vending machine and winning the lottery. Steve’s parents weren’t soulmates and boy did that show, but a guy could dream. Call him a hopeless romantic, but Steve was holding out hope for them. 

He’d almost thought his soulmate was Robin. It fit, right? They went to the same school, but they’d never really talked. He’d been so busy with his first day at a real job, he’d missed Robin’s first words to him. It wasn’t until later he’d started to expect it might be her. That was, until the pair were huddled beside each other on the floor of a bathroom stall. Robin was a lesbian and her first words, although interesting, definitely proved they weren’t soulmates. 

When Steve was a kid, he’d spend hours daydreaming about what his soulmate would be like. She’d be outspoken. She’d be bold. She’d be able to make him laugh. When he’d gotten older, something changed. He didn’t know how to put it into words, at least not ones he was ready to say out loud. ‘She’ didn’t fit his soulmate quite right. So after high school, he started wondering what ‘they’ would be like. ‘They’ felt not quite right, but closer. 

Their handwriting was distinct. It was all sharp-edges and odd-angles. It looked like it was trying to replicate something Steve couldn’t quite place until he walked into the record store at Starcourt and caught a glimpse of an Iron Maiden album cover. That gave Steve his first real clue as to what his soulmate might be like. 

It would be another year before the same handwriting would stop him in his tracks. Dustin had marched into the Family Video store as they were shutting up shop, brandishing a notepad and talking about needing a ride to go play his fantasy game. Steve was always going to drive Dustin, but he’d been dragging his feet, to show the kid he wouldn’t always drop everything to take him places. A familiar sharp edged, odd angled handwriting stopped Steve cold. 

“What are those?” Steve asked, trying to fain disinterest as his heart pounded in his ears. 

“They’re notes from the last session. You know, so we can keep track of what’s happened so far in the campaign. Who’s doing what quests, how many hit points everyone’s got. Mike is currently—.” Steve couldn’t give a crap about Mike. 

“Who’s writing is it?” Steve tried not to sound as desperate as he felt. 

Robin must have known something was up because she moved to Steve’s side. With one glance at the notepad, she understood why Steve was acting so strangely. She’d seen his tattoo, she knew it was his soulmate’s handwriting. 

“Our D.M.’s” Dustin replied. He might as well have been speaking in freaking code. 

“Alright, I’ll drive you,” Steve gave in, hoping he could catch a glance of his soulmate. Maybe his tattoo was wrong, maybe he’d know his soulmate when he saw them. 

They pulled up outside of the high school. He saw a group of people loitering outside the auditorium. Dustin had brought a lot of loose sheets of paper, so it only made sense Steve helped him carry his notebooks in. Most of the people there were familiar faces, the kids he’d babysat with a few exceptions. 

“Well, if it isn’t our favourite bard. I’m glad you decided to grace us with your presence,” an oh-too-familiar voice crooned. A boy broke away from the crowd to meet Dustin. 

He was Steve’s age. They’d gone to school together. The dude used to do all these weird soap-box sessions on their lunch table. They had gym together, and history. Steve didn’t think the two had ever actually spoken.  

“I would’ve been here quicker if I hadn’t had to play twenty questions with Steve. Steve, you know Eddie, our D.M.? Weren’t you two in the same year?” 

Eddie was practically shooting daggers at Dustin’s side profile, shaking his head discreetly as though hoping Steve didn’t remember who he was. He supposed Eddie always had a reputation. 

“You might not remember me,” Eddie spoke before Steve could answer. 

Holy shit.

“Of course, I remember you,” Steve argued and watched as Eddie’s eyes swelled to the size of dinner plates. 

Both boys stood, slack-jawed and stiff-shouldered, peering at one another. Steve’s brain short-circuited, because holy shit, Eddie Munson was his soulmate. Holy shit he’d found them, him. 

Steve dropped Dustin’s notes and swarmed forward without thinking, throwing his arms around Eddie. Much to his surprise, instead of freaking out, like any normal person, Eddie was waiting to catch him, leaving both of them to tumble ass backwards onto the parking lot asphalt.

They held each other in a bone-crushing hug. Steve buried his face in Eddie’s neck, surprised at how naturally the action came. He’d never hugged a man like this, hell he’d hugged no one like this. He was clinging so desperately to the man that he’d never thought he’d really find. Eddie pulled back slightly, trying to get a better look at Steve’s face. The guy’s eyes were alight with wonder and mischief. 

“That was quite an entrance, Harrington. All for little old me?” 

“I’ve been looking for you forever,” Steve admitted. 

“Well, clearly you’ve been doing a shit job of it,” Eddie argued which earned a snort from Steve. His soulmate would be able to make him laugh. 

“You’re not disappointed, you know? That your soulmate is the town Freak?” 

Steve had given up on caring about labels, on caring about what other people thought. Since high school, he had changed. He was different.  He didn’t want to be just another, shallow, meathead jock. He wanted to be different. 

“No. Absolutely not. Why would I care?” 

Dustin shattered the moment, clearing his throat and proclaiming,

“Alright, anyone care to tell me what the hell just happened?” 

[adriancatrin]

soulmark au sketches. the idea of sokka in proven ‘soulmates are real’ universes consistently intrigues me—how would that impact his skepticism/interpretation of fate/destiny/free will? personally i think he’d be very angry for a very long time and probably not even understand why

[junocornkiwi]

omg, professor dekarios!!! 😍

... oh, wait, what's with his neck? 🤨 and who's that he's talking to? 😧 omg is he blushing? 😱 omg he's not single 😭 (i'm his wife)

[beskarfrog]

but that's fine, i'd still do it all over again if you asked me to

[pien-art]

totally enamoured by @eve-is-obsessed ‘s fic “Need Me Then” <- go check it out !!! I can’t wait to read more of this au !!!

[poppy-metal]

the notes... the notes....

they start off so sweet. art almost thought it wasn't meant for him until the second one showed up. the first one showed up on his gym bag. he'd left it on the bleachers. inside is a full page of just saccharine praise and admiration and a rave review of him. i learned about tennis just for you. you're so beautiful out there, so beautiful period. i've never seen someone like you. it's like watching and angel. the praise fills him up so much that he can't notice the glaring concerns. i know you're gonna be one of the greatest. you won't forget me then, will you? i don't know if i could live if you did. it's just the start of his fan mail.

the notes seem to follow him. it's not just on his gym bag. it's under his door, on his car windshield, the seat he always sits in for this class, and in his locker in the locker room (that's when he starts to get a little concerned). he knows he should throw them away. that he should be creeped out and disgusted even but... he likes them. he finds himself excited instead of scared when he spots the familiar envelope. they comfort him.

he loses a match and goes to a party to blow off steam. when he returns to his car, there's a note and a bag from a nearby store. his favorite candy inside. you go on and on on the note about how he was wronged. you were so amazing out there. those people know nothing. that asshole will get what he deserves. don't be upset baby, mommy will make it all better. your still the best. still my favorite. he finds himself re-reading the notes when he's upset. it doesn't reach him that the guy he lost to had his tires and windows smashed.

he isn't sure how to handle it at first when your notes become lustful. you'd never hid your affection for him. i mean, the back of your letters were always covered in kiss marks. but then you mention how turned on watching him play makes you. can't resist it for long, have to get my fingers inside me soon enough. you just sound so good. when you groan or when you curse. are you like that in bed? how you just know you could make him feel good. feel better than any other girl could make him including that fucking bitch girl he's "dating" (because in reality, he's dating you). i would never let anyone else touch me. won't use anything other than my fingers because i want to save myself for you. i'm only yours even if your confused about being mine.

art knows they shouldn't turn him on but he can't help it. finds his cock getting hard while he reads them. it's even worse when you start sending him polaroids of your tits and cunt. you look so slick in the photos, some your just spreading yourself open for him and others your fingers are inside of you. art feels guilty when he jerks off to them but he always adds them to the little box where he saves everything you've sent him.

- ☕

i literally had a dream about this that's how insane i am about being arts little creep <33

he keeps them in a shoebox under his bed - if anyone found it he'd say hes 'collecting evidence' to turn you in but really its because they mean something to him. he reads them on days when he cant even leave his room he feels so shitty, the sweet notes that tell him how amazing he is. you dont know it, and its oddly touching, but you've gotten him through the worst of his self hatred - the days where he could fucking shrink in on himself and fade into nothing, and then he reads your notes and he remembers there's someone out there who thinks this highly of him. who sees him and likes him - it gets him out of bed. he finds himself hoping that if you're having a bad day - that seeing him out and about is enough to cheer you up.

Its like this weird kind of bond that form even though he doesn't fucking know you. you become codependent anyway. he finds himself wondering about you more and more, in lectures, he'll idly glance around the room and wonder if any of the people his eyes bounce over could be you - he wonders if there's something about you that would give you away if he really really studied each and every person around him.

one day his eyes do land on you - you're taking notes because to stalk art you have to actually stay in college which means you do have to learn and study, unfortunately - and you feel his eyes on the side of your face, and you burn up inside. your palm starts sweating and you're half panicked half excited, is he gleaning anything? what is he thinking when he looks at you? you want to know so fucking badly. but you dont look up - sure that if you did you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from communicating everything with your gaze. and its not time.

what art is thinking is - you're cute. he hasn't really noticed you before, but he thinks you have a cute nose. he notes a birthmark next to your mouth. he thinks the glitter pen you're writing with is endearing. but you dont look up at him, so you're not his girl (his girl, when had he started thinking that?) - and he looks away, the small moment fades from his mind by the end of the lecture.

and when you start sending him pictures - he can't help it. there's been a worry, of course, that his stalker could very well be some greasy man or someone completely grotesque - but, god. the gleam of your cunt - the way your pretty fingers hold yourself open - he can see your little clit -

the note makes him groan i can't hold back anymore. i want you to see what you do to me - its not enough just to tell you. you make me so wet. i dont even have to warm up for it just thinking about you is enough to get me messy enough that my fingers just slide in. just my fingers though, i promise. i want my hymen to be broken on your cock - i want you to be my first. i belong to you.

beats his dick raw to the picture you send him over the weeks and eventually it gets to the point where he's wondering if he can take this - he feels insane - really insane - he thinks about writing you back. about putting a note of his own in the places you always leave one for him, so that when you go to put it there - you'll see his.

he thinks better of it. talks himself out of it. jerking off to pictures of your pussy you willingly send is one thing - actively engaging with you is a whole other ballpark. unless it was to tell you to leave him alone, there's absolutely no reason to. he'd be telling you its okay - he'd be enabling this obviously concerning behavior. he wont do it.

its just. you said you'd do anything for him. anything at all. would you send him a video, if he asked? would you show him more of you? he's been thinking about what your fingers would look like pumping in and out - the sounds of your pussy - if you said his name - would you get into degrading positions for him? how far would you go while still concealing your identity?

he doesn't need to know. it'd be fucking deranged to push you.

but you said you'd do anything. he's your prince, isn't he? if he wants to see more you'd have to listen. you'd have to.

[ratislatis]

I'll find you. Wait for me.

hee hee hoo hoo AUUUUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH PAIN PAIN SUFFERING PAIN IN ALL DIRECTIONS!!!! TO HELL WITH IT (LITERALLY)!!!!!!!!!

[spitinsideme]

ragatha acting like pomni doesnt give her attention 24/7 (pomni enjoys it actually, she wont admut it though !!)

(demon x nun au !!)

[deathshallbethelastenemy]

baby, you're the life of the party (5)

TEEN!gojo x FEM!reader (soulmate AU)

It's his birthday and he's acting spoiled

TW⚠️: slightly suggestive, gojo is being gojo, slight manipulation (if you squint), and improper use of curse technique amplification: blue

a/n: im gonna go all the way up! stop hiding!!!!! you hiding forever!!! GEGE when I catch you gege‼️gege when I catch you gege‼️ this has not been proofread

1. what you see, i see

2. where you go, i go

3. you know i adore you

4. i'm crazier for you

To say she was intimidated was an understatement. Satoru had decided that his birthday would be held at his family estate. He had only given her an address when he skipped off grinning ear to ear. Gojo Satoru's family estate was huge. Bigger than she could've ever imagined - huge.

She gripped the present bag a little tighter. She had visited every sweet shop to track down his favorite sweets and went to the video game shop so early in the morning for the new digimon game. He had incessantly been talking about it and it was clear he wanted someone to buy it for him.

Nothing she bought was grand. Nothing she bought would compare to everything he already has.

She wasn't good enough. How could she ever be good enough? He was a powerful sorcerer, who struck fear into every curse he so much as glanced at and he was paired with someone like her? It didn't make any sense. In what way were they equals?

She sucked in a breath as her finger hovered over the doorbell. Maybe, she should go home and change into something nicer?

The gate was pulled open. A fluff of white hair attacked her at the entrance.

"Yay!"

Satoru rushed at her with the biggest grin on his face as he embraced her and spun gleefully with her in his arms.

She flung her arms around his neck and giggled, "Happy birthday, 'toru."

She rested her hands on his shoulders when he finally stopped spinning her around and showed off the present bag to him.

Satoru's grin widened as he snatched the present from her hand and swiftly picked her up in his arms again with his birthday present dangling from his fingers. He was practically skipping his way through the estate and ignored the odd looks he got from anyone who looked their way, he kicked his room's door open.

She thought he would open his present first, but no, he was showering her with kisses on her cheeks and neck instead.

She really shouldn't have kissed the corner of his lips. He was already a hot burning fire who would leap at any chance to kiss her and usually she wouldn't encourage it, but it was his birthday - how could she not give at least one kiss.

In her defense, she didn't know she would end up like this - underneath him on his bed as he peppered kisses all over her face and her present sitting prettily forgotten on a nightstand.

"Sa- Satoru," she whispered breathlessly, "what if someone comes in?"

"They'll knock," his lips latched on to her neck.

She bit her lip to stop herself from moaning.

Satoru squeezed her hips.

"You haven't," she tugged on his shirt, "you haven't opened your present."

Satoru smirked, "I'm opening it right now."

His lips trailed up from her neck back to her face as he assaulted her with kisses again.

She giggled, "Satoru!" She gently pushed at his face, "Stop! I should be the one showering you with kisses today."

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with joy behind his glasses. He rolled off of her and leaned his cheek on his hand, "Go on then."

She gently cupped his cheek and softly rubbed her thumb on his soft skin. He leaned against her palm with a hum as his arms moved to wrap around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She pushed his glasses up from his face so she could see his brilliant blue eyes.

Satoru was beautiful. So beautiful.

"I'm waiting," He sang.

She placed a light kiss on his cheek, "How rude," a kiss on his forehead, "of me," a lighter much gentler kiss on his eyelids - his eyes were sensitive after all, "to keep," a kiss on his nose, "my birthday boy," then she grazed her lips against his, "waiting."

Satoru leaned in, but she leaned away from his lips with a smirk dancing on hers.

He absentmindedly chased her, his gaze fixated on her mouth, he whined, "Waiting for months and months and months."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, "I think I've kept you waiting long enough," she ran her fingers through his soft hair, "no?"

"Most definitely."

A sharp tug pulled her into him and crashed their lips together. The pulling sensation stopped as soon as their lips touched and all she could focus on, was on how soft Satoru's lips were on hers. Everything was so plush and warm and soft, even after months of waiting and Satoru being more than a little eager, he was still holding and kissing her so gently. The initial roughness was gone, replaced with heaven.

He was heaven.

Why did she wait so long to finally kiss him? Why did she wait at all that night? Or in the morning, when he was still bloody and he had leaned in to kiss her before he left, why did she stop him then?

They were soulmates. This was always going to happen. The universe would've thrusted them together one way or another, even if she had carried on with her plan to leave Japan and go to school abroad. An invisible string would've always tied her back to him - drawing her to him and him to her.

They were magnetic.

They were inevitable.

They parted and gasped for air. For a split moment her eyes were closed, she could see herself through his gaze - rosy cheeks and smiling, before she opened her eyes to look at him mirroring her expression.

Delighted, she leaned in to kiss him again, but Satoru leaned back, "I'm your boyfriend now, right?" He rubbed their noses together playfully, "For real, real?"

She moved to cup his cheeks with both of her hands, "Always were, 'toru."

Another harsh pull overcame her body as she was pulled impossibly closer to him - Blue, she realized, he was using blue.

She pecked his lips and giggled, "I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to use your curse technique."

Satoru deepened their kiss, "Just making sure, my girl stays near me today." He smiled against her lips, "I get to since it's my birthday and all."

"Don't spoil him too much," someone said at the door, "otherwise, he'll never leave you alone."

They both turned flushed red to see Suguru, with a soft smile on his face, standing at the doorway.

Shoko peeked her head out of Suguru's side, "Are you done?"

Satoru grinned, teeth and all, "Guess who's finally a taken man?"

Suguru and Shoko exchanged a look, "He's definitely never going to shut up about it."

"Definitely." Suguru nodded, "It's no wonder the universe gave him a soulmate, who else would be able to put up with him."

Shoko tilted her head at the girl resting her head on Satoru's shoulder, "You should leave while you still can."

Satoru let out a loud whine, but his soulmate stopped him with a chaste kiss on his cheek, "I would never leave 'toru."

He looked at his friends accusingly, "Yeah!"

They gave themselves another annoyed look - only she could tolerate him.

Suguru shrugged, "At least, I don't have to hear him whine about how he's not your boyfriend yet, and how he wants to kiss you so bad - "

A pillow smacked him right in the head.

Shoko laughed.

Satoru hugged his soulmate closer to him as she playfully smacked his arm, she said, "Satoru!"

Next thing she knew, both boys were on the floor fighting and just as Suguru was going to land a lunch on Satoru's face, his fist rebounded off an invisible wall. Satoru smirked as he extended his infinity to push Suguru off of him and tried to land a punch of his own, but Suguru was quick to react as he summoned a curse to take the brunt of the hit.

Shoko sighed as ______ grumbled at the sight of both of them fighting.

"You can't hit me!" Satoru yelled, "It's my birthday!"

"Like I care!" Suguru shot a curse at him.

Shoko grabbed ______ hand to lead her out of the room and shouted out, "We'll see you both there!"

"Wait - !" A loud smack, "Ow!"

She raised an eyebrow at Shoko, "I thought we were spending his birthday here?"

Shoko shook her head and smirked, "Nah, Gojo just wanted to get you here alone." She whipped out a cigarette from her pocket, "Geto and I crashed. You should've heard the way he was planning this whole week. It was sort of pathetic."

"A plan?"

Shoko hummed, "Mhm," she playfully mimicked Satoru's voice, "Operation: Love Quest!"

Satoru shouted from the door, his eyes shining with betrayal, "Shoko, you promised!"

Suguru laughed beside him and joined in as him and Shoko chanted, "Operation: Love Quest! Operation: Love Quest!"

She couldn't stop the laughter from bubbling out of her, even as Satoru grumbled and pouted like a child the entire day. It wasn't until he was satisfied with the amount of sweets everyone bought him that he stopped jutting out his lower lip.

He was all smiles then, especially when Shoko and Suguru retired for the day and it was just the two of them.

Satoru was quick to kiss her. Rougher than the first time, but still savoring every second their lips were together.

She giggled into the kiss, "Operation: Love Quest?"

This time there was no hint of embarrassment in his face as Satoru smugly smirked, "Well, it worked, didn't it?"

She hummed pleasantly and tugged on his neck to kiss him, "Come on, I got one more present for you."

The bakery wasn't from where they were as they quickly made their way through the crowd of people and walked inside the bakery.

The seats were hung up on the tables and most of the lights were off, but she made her way to the kitchen with ease. She pushed the kitchen doors open to reveal a beautifully adorned baby blue cake and in elegant iced letters: Happy Birthday Satoru.

Geto: you think he's dead???

Part 6: something's made your eyes go cold

Gojo: *in a sugar coma back in his dorm room*

Shoko: probably

@phoenix666stuff @96jnie @mr-underhills-things @whatamidoing89 @wbad-world @ancientimes @whippedbyikemen @sammyiguess (can't find you sorry) @pumpkindudeishere @witchofthecoffee @arminswifee (another one that cannot be tagged sorry) @weebotaku21 (another one I do not understand why) @nevermoresworld @jjk97091 (cannot tag you sorry) @toshirolovebot @marblesphere @sabo-has-my-heart @laurenzitaa

[strawberryspence]

There's a red string, strung and tied into a small bow on Steve's pinky finger. It never breaks, never fades. It stretches for miles and miles and miles. There's a shimmer in it when it hits the sunlight. It's beautiful, meaningful. His connection to his soulmate.

Steve's always been excited, always been curious as to who is on the other end of it. His mother has always told him to not follow it, that it may be dangerous, he could get lost.

He only tried following the string once. He was twelve, alone at the big house, with no parents and no friends. The string reminds him that there's a person on the other side of it, there's comfort in that. He follows it— follows, follows, follows— until he reaches the Hawkins Sign and sees the road ahead. The string still goes for ages, and it could go anywhere. He goes home to that dark, lonely house, and cries so hard the string vibrates in the dark.

When Steve finds the other end of his string, he thinks, its too late. The people around him— his parents, his friends, his peers— has already dictated who he was supposed to be. He finds the other end of it just at King Steve's peak. He finds it in between the fame and arrogance. He finds it, in the middle of the cafeteria, standing high on top of a table.

The string tightens, almost like it's pulling him to the other end. But as they stare at each other, from opposite sides of the cafeteria. Both having the realization that they are each other's soulmates and both knowing they can't do anything about it.

Steve tears his eyes away from him, tears his eyes away from Eddie Munson, tears his eyes away from his soulmate and continues back to his life. He continues as he learns that monsters exist, that there are kids being experimented on, that he can still change, that not everything is set in stone.

When the kids first mention the mysterious, eccentric, dungeon master that adopted them. The one with cool tattoos and long, frenzied hair. A name the kids cheered for in between the shelves of Family Video, that makes Steve's string glisten in anticipation. He thinks, maybe it's not too late.

And when Spring '86 finally comes around, and Steve watches as Dustin and Max scurry to find the man. Steve relents, his own concern and worry overflowing from the beams. He tells them to get in the car, as Robin closes up the store. They all silently watch as Steve follows his string.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie whispers, broke bottle held against Steve's neck.

The string between them shimmers in anticipation, its the closest they have ever been to each other. They can almost feel it vibrate in excitement.

"We're here to help." Steve answers back. He wishes— not for the first time— that he knows his soulmate. Knows what comforts him, knows what makes him feel better.

But as Eddie pulls away, finally calming down and telling them what truly happened. Steve thinks that his curiosity could wait till later. It's not too late. Not yet. Steve just has to help Eddie out of this.

"You want to talk about it?" Eddie asks, just after Steve thanks him for coming after him in the lake. Like Eddie would leave his own soulmate to drown and die in the underground world that just ate him.

"About what?" Steve asks. He knows what Eddie's asking, but he wants to be sure, doesn't want to step into boundaries.

Eddie raises his pinky, the string lifting with his hand, and it's fascinating as Steve sees his string being pulled this close by the other end.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Steve asks back, eyes wide.

"Do you?" Eddie challenges.

Steve is tired, and there's an ache in his body, maybe it's the bites or maybe it's the ache to be near Eddie. "Yes. I want to talk about it. But maybe not right now. Not here."

Eddie's taken aback for a second before he chuckles, "Yeah. Okay. We'll talk later."

"Later."

There's no later, not when they're just about to go to war with some evil wizard that can gauge their eyes from the inside. Just before it's time to go, just before it's time to go to war. Steve reminds Dustin and Eddie to be safe, to not be heroes. Steve turns because he needs to leave, if he doesn't do it right now, he's not sure if he'll ever go. Eddie calls him back.

"Steve."

Steve turns back. Only because it's Eddie and he'll always turn back for Eddie.

Eddie looks at him. Big brown eyes shining under the red sky. Eddie raises his pinky again, the ribbon tied on it tightens instinctively. There's a certain softness in his face; tender and hope mushed together.

"Stay alive."

Steve nods, raising his own pinky.

"Later."

Eddie nods, and they both turn from each other.

There's a moment. Just a sliver of it, where they think they won. If Steve has to describe it, he will say that it feels exactly like gasping for air after a long lap in the pool.

Steve realizes that they're wrong when the vibrant red of his string flickers to something duller. It's the first time it ever does that, and his heart drops. No.

"I told you not to be a hero!" Steve cries out, as Eddie's blood spills from everywhere.

"I know. I am sorry." Eddie smiles weakly at him.

"We got to move you. We got to—" When Steve moves him, Eddie moans in pain, tears spilling from his eyes. Steve steadies him again, doesn't move another inch to give his soulmate some kind of comfort. The pain of it goes straight into his ribs and into his chest.

"There's not gonna be a later. I am sorry, sweetheart." Eddie looks up at him, smiling softly as he cups Steve's face. "I am sorry I didn't talk to you earlier."

"I am sorry I didn't either." Steve sobs, clutching on Eddie's hand.

"We're soulmates." Eddie says. There finality in the statement, no room for questions and confusion. "We'll find each other again."

"No, Eddie." Steve shakes his head, stubborn as ever.

Eddie's hand slips off Steve's face, "See you soon, sweetheart."

Steve doesn't know what happens next. Nobody ever explained it to him. He thinks it's cruel that nobody ever prepares you for this moment. As he watches the once bright string finally die down, the shimmering turning into nothing. Slowly, but surely, disappearing. His only connection with his soulmate— with Eddie— forever gone.

The only thing that's left is a black string, tied on his pinky without its other half.

It's too late now.

-> my beautiful @undreaming-fanfiction's happier ending