#i need them in like a powers soulmates or something or other au

[lily-blue]

Relationship status: taken

☆ characters: uni student!mark & you ☆ genre: soulmate au, college au ☆ warnings: alcohol consumption, insecurities ☆ summary: you live in a world where your soulmate marks tell you fair and square whether your special someone is taken or single; clearly, it shouldn’t be too complicated to figure out who is meant to be for you… ☆ words: 18,4k ☆ also: this day marks the end of the eleventh year of our friendship (and the end of the first whole year since we’ve been living in different countries), crazy, isn’t it? but when you really look at it, i think it’s crazier that among billions of people, i could find someone as amazing and perfect for me as you are. the older i get, the more grateful i am for you and your unconditional love and support ♥ please, stay by my side for many more decades, @dat-town, because there’s just no way i’d ever consider letting you go ♥

Privacy was a unique subject in your world, and something you had always had a hard time to comprehend with your soulmate’s relationship status tattooed on your skin.

When you had been sixteen and stupidly in love with your best friend’s older brother, you had been terrified by the thought that he might have seen you only as a little sister - you had also been super anxious to have your feelings returned and get in a relationship with him just for his mark to remain the same: single. Not to mention the very likely possibility of you having an older soulmate somewhere out there whose heart you would have unintentionally broken the moment you had become someone else’s girlfriend.

At that young age, the concept of love had made you feel so petrified that you had pretty much given up on ever confessing to someone even before you had received your own mark on your eighteenth birthday.

It had come with time, with the influence of many different people and mindsets and your own emotional growth through yearning and heartbreak, but eventually, you could acknowledge that there was less harm in your marks than you had initially thought as a teenager. After all, no one had to be in love with the person they got in a relationship with for the magical tattoos to change. What you needed was a vocal confirmation of your desire to live as a couple, thus breaking off a relationship that wasn’t meant to be could save you from spending precious years on someone who was only killing time with you before settling down with the one their heart was beating for.

Logically speaking, your soulmate marks - when one was mature enough to understand that there was a significant difference between a good match and a perfect match in life - were only there to save people their time and tears. You just had to be brave and open enough to give people a chance to test your compatibility according to a higher power. 

Ironically, your closest friend at university had a completely different take on this matter. She openly hated the way no one seemed to cherish other people’s feelings, belittling their love just because they weren’t the one for them. Yuju romanticised the process of falling in love and those pure feelings that naturally grew stronger the more time one spent with those who made them feel genuinely happy and grateful to be alive. Your differences didn’t come in the way of your friendship, though. In fact, the two of you had become friends when you had seen her scream at someone for breaking up with her childhood friend not a second after their tattoos hadn’t changed once the boy had asked the girl to be his girlfriend.

You admired her for her lack of fear of confrontation. You could have never drawn so much attention to yourself at a crowded coffee shop.

You could barely bear the immense amount of attention your boyfriend was giving you on a daily basis. Hence, you were actually glad that Dejun never complained when you dragged your friend to your public dates, so you wouldn’t have had to be the only one who was asked about her mundane days and was showered in free drinks, snacks and desserts.

(It was also a nice addition that with Yuju present, it was less likely that your boyfriend went overboard with his spending despite being a gentleman who would have rather bought three movie tickets with his own money than let you and your best friend chip in.)

‘Man, you look so disappointed! Haechan will never let me live this down,’ someone’s whiny voice came from your side, effectively pulling you back to the present: to the biggest lecture hall in your university where your Creative writing professor and the Lyrics writing professor from the Music Department had assigned you a partner for your semester project.

With furrowed eyebrows, you straightened your back and looked at the boy who was talking to you.

‘Sorry?’

You couldn’t remember much of what he had said. You had been still thinking about your pizza date with Dejun after your class - for which Yuju couldn’t come with you because of her internship - when his voice had reached you and pulled you out of your head.

The boy lifted his hand and pointed at something on your right. Reluctantly, you turned your head, unsure whether you should have focused on the brunette who was staring at you two like she was about to slice your throat or the goofy guy who had his phone directed at you. The latter could have been as easily taking a selfie with the grumpy guy next to him - Renjun, if you had remembered correctly - as recording your weird conversation with the one who had addressed you.

You turned back to your assumed project partner.

‘What’s happening?’ You asked, hoping that your question didn’t come off as offensive as it sounded in your head. The lecture hall might have already been half-empty, but there were still a lot of students around you, and if this person scolded you for being a scatterbrain, the humiliation would have haunted you for weeks.

‘Don’t mind him, I’ll make him delete the video,’ the boy reassured you, so you finally knew for sure whom he had pointed at a few seconds ago. Still, the revelation left you with more questions than answers. Suddenly, you weren’t sure even of your most logical explanations. Was he really your project partner? Had he already introduced himself? Should you have introduced yourself?

Why was his friend recording your conversation? Was he even close enough for his phone to pick up on what you were saying?

‘… and it’s his new hobby to make fun of me since Haeri asked me out because apparently, I’m awkward with girls, and it’s ridiculous that my soulmate found me while he’s still single…’

You scratched your nape and turned your head back towards the boy’s friend. His phone was still in his hands, and his smile got visibly wider with each passing second as the guy in front of your seat kept rambling, super clearly digging his own grave for no real reason. You didn’t understand why he felt the need to explain their odd dynamic to you, why he was going into so much detail when you were strangers.

Speaking of which…

‘Are you a music major? We’re assigned to do the semester project together, aren’t we?’ You cut him off as gently as you could manage, deliberately disregarding the obnoxious laughter that came from your side almost immediately.

‘Yes, yes we are! That’s why I was asking for your name and whether you wanted to change kkt IDs, but you looked so disappointed, and Haechan thought it was funny how much you hated this pairing already, and…’

Oh. So this was what had happened. He had walked up to you while you had been in your head and mistaken your growing anxiety due to your outdoor date with Dejun for your nonexistent displeasure towards him as a project partner. It was so silly, but it did put the past couple of minutes into context.

You couldn’t help but smile.

‘I’m not disappointed. It’s… it’s just a misunderstanding. I was thinking about something…’ you tried to clear up the mess, mortified as you realised that you had almost told this boy that the real reason for the frown on your face was your boyfriend’s love language rather than your first impression of him. You weren’t usually this chatty, and you scolded yourself even more mentally when you remembered that his friend was recording your conversation. ‘Else. I was thinking about something else.’

‘Really?’ The boy’s surprise was palpable, his distressed facial features slowly morphing into something less tense as he reciprocated your small smile. ‘That’s cool. That’s more than cool, actually. Awesome.’

You weren’t so sure that it was really that awesome, but you decided to just let him be, then introduced yourself properly and you fished your phone out of your hoodie’s pocket, so he could add himself to your friend list on Kakao.

‘So… Mark,’ you stared up at him once he gave your phone back, and you checked his name in your app. His profile picture was unexpectedly cool: he was sitting in a dimly lit studio with neon lights in the background, holding onto what looked like an electric guitar. He was wearing a beanie indoors and you had this uncharacteristic urge to tease him for it despite not knowing him at all. ‘When would you like to brainstorm about our topic? Do you have any part-time jobs or other extra obligations after your classes? Anything we should calculate with?’

‘I do have one actually! I’m working at the vinyl store near campus on the weekends, but most of my classes are morning or early afternoon classes, except for my lyrics writing seminar, which is… right now. So yeah, weekday afternoons are cool with me,’ he explained without taking a look at his timetable, but you guessed it was okay enough since you were already a month into your first semester, which meant most people had memorised their schedules. 

If you still mixed up your Wednesdays and Thursdays, that was no one else’s business but yours. (And maybe Yuju’s, too, since she was the one who always had to remind you to bring breakfast for your first class on Thursdays, otherwise you would need to sit through two long seminars, one after another, with an empty stomach.)

‘That sounds manageable. I also have two free afternoons a week. How often do you think we should meet up? I guess, we both have other classes, too, but this project is fifty percent of our grade, so maybe…’

‘Twice a week works for me. I actually really like this class, you know. So call me nerdy, but I want to give this project my hundred and ten percent this semester,’ Mark confessed, his cheeks taking on a soft, rose-tinted hue, which you found quite endearing.

You were also glad that in spite of his clear discomfort - someone really should have told his friend to stop teasing him with his stupid phone -, the boy took the initiative, so you didn’t have to admit aloud that your grades were actually very important to you. Sure, you wouldn’t have gone as far as to say you were embarrassed that you cared about your education, and you would have mustered up your courage to ask him to take your project more seriously if he had been one of the slackers, but it was definitely easier on your heart this way.

‘You can absolutely call me nerdy then. I’m a self-diagnosed perfectionist,’ you decided to add with a semi-self-conscious giggle just when the silence could have stretched too long, Mark’s eyes lighting up at your confession.

You could see it on his face that he was about to ask you something - your best guess was that just like you, he didn’t have any more classes that afternoon, so he was wondering whether you would have liked to get a headstart on your project together -, but then he quickly pressed his lips together, into a tight smile, when his friend threw his arm over his shoulder.

‘Makgeolli, let’s go,’ the guy with the silver-lavender hair exclaimed, pulling his friend close to his side like he hadn’t been bullying him in the past five minutes or so. You wouldn’t have been surprised if the name he chose to call Mark on had annoyed the other, too. After all, it was hard to picture anyone who would have liked to be addressed as “rice wine” when there were so many other options… 

‘Man, get off me,’ the boy tried to push his friend’s arm off him, but the other was too clingy and insisting, while Mark clearly had enough experience with this kind of behaviour to know that any future attempts would have been futile.

They had such a weird dynamic, it was borderline concerning.

(Now it made more sense why the boy had felt the need to explain his friend’s actions to you despite your short acquaintanceship. Without your project partner’s vocal confirmation, you would have assumed that he was in real danger around the other boy.)

‘Canada, I’m starving,’ the hyperactive boy whined before he pointed at you with his head like you had already been at that level, when you didn’t even know his name. Wasn’t he a bit too mannerless for his own good? Maybe, it wasn’t that his soulmate wasn’t around, it was just she didn’t want to be found. ‘I’ve seen you already exchanged numbers, so we’re good to go,’ he reasoned, his argument reminding you that you couldn’t have worked on your project that afternoon even if you had wanted to. Therefore, Mark and you didn’t have more business together for the time being.

‘Yeah, but…’

‘It’s okay. I actually have… somewhere to be today, so I’ll text you about my schedule later?’ You half-said, half-asked, a little unsure because of all the attention his friend was giving you with his mischievous eyes. Were you hallucinating things, or were his eyes looking for the soulmate mark on your wrist?

You pulled the sleeve of your hoodie lower on instinct, before you stood up abruptly and threw your notebook and glitter gel pens into your backpack.

‘Yeah, sure. I’ll be waiting!’ You swallowed back a giggle when you saw his friend elbow him in the side right after his eager exclamation had left his mouth. His red cheeks and wide eyes were kind of cute. ‘Khm… I mean, not literally. You don’t have to feel pressured, I have other things to do, too. You can text me any time,’ Mark tried to save the situation by making it four times worse.

You willed yourself to take him seriously, though. It felt like the right thing to do.

‘Thanks. But I’ll message you once I’m back at the dorm. Self-diagnosed perfectionist, you know,’ you smiled at him, and tilted your head forwards just enough to be considered as a somewhat polite goodbye when your gaze shifted from him to his friend. You would have felt bad for judging him silently if you hadn’t shown him any manners, either, but this was where you drew the line with people who didn’t pass your vibe check: at the bare minimum. ‘See you.’

Nearing the exit, you could hear both boys reciting the same two words to you in surprising harmony, but you were already too far away from them to tell what his obnoxious friend had said to Mark to make him scream his name from the top of his lungs. Haechan. Hm, it didn’t ring any bells.

Two weeks into your Creative writing project, you could confidently say that your professor tried his best to make his class the most unique and enjoyable that semester. Having shorter lectures in order to provide additional quality time for brainstorming for the students was a praised idea as well, something both Mark and you appreciated despite your frequent text messages and meet-ups. After all, you hadn’t known each other before this semester and to be able to create something as personal as your topic required… You both had to become more comfortable around the other. Otherwise, you would never be able to connect on an intimate - strictly platonic, yet undeniably deep - level. That was just how art worked.

Afraid of possible rumours on campus, the inevitable misunderstandings based on them and how the unnecessary drama would have affected you - a notorious conflict avoider - and your grades, you had told Dejun about Mark and your future interactions at the first chance you had gotten: the moment he had picked you up for your date that afternoon. Like the greenest flag he was, your boyfriend had had more questions about the project itself than the boy as the only thing he truly cared about was that Mark didn’t try to force all the work on you and didn’t act inappropriately in your company.

Which he didn’t. Mark was always on time, he always did his parts, he always brought new ideas to the table and was always kind and respectful towards you even when his actions came off a little timid. So naturally, you had nothing to complain about. Dejun had nothing to be worried about. Everything was beyond picture perfect on paper.

So why was that the more time you spent with Mark Lee, the more you felt like you were cheating on your boyfriend in a way? Even though both of you were mindful of the other’s relationship, hence never sat close enough to one another to start any gossip. There had been one time when you had even refused a free chocolate croissant that a barista had offered you because he had thought you were a couple, hence entitled for their promotion.

Looking down at the half-eaten chicken-mayo sandwich on your plate, then back up at the boy in front of you who was jotting down snippets in his notebook like wildfire, you couldn’t help but wonder whether this nasty feeling inside of you rooted in the fact that you were open with Mark about something immensely personal that you had never had the guts to tell Dejun. Were you unfaithful to your partner whenever you admitted that even after a year with the boy you called your soulmate, you weren’t sure about the hype that surrounded these types of relationships?

Sure, yours was an amazing person who cared for your physical and mental well-being, but as awful as it sounded, you didn’t feel like you couldn’t have lived without him. His affection gave something extra to your boring, everyday life, but you could have gone without his gifts and questions for a long while, which didn’t seem to match with all those low-key desperate and dependent descriptions people could find in papers that analysed this phenomenon.

Where was the gut-wrenching feeling of being away from your soulmate for too long? Where was the soul-consuming contentment their presence was supposed to give you? You weren’t sure you had ever gotten to experience those butterflies in your tummy, either. It was more like anxiety that took over you whenever you thought of all the money and time Dejun spent on you when you were so plain and boring.

Not that you hated your personality. You were confident in your own, quiet way. Something just didn’t add up. It wasn’t how you had pictured it when you had been younger.

‘What do you think about these lines? I’m not quite sure yet… Prof might think it’s a bit too dramatic. Man, I don’t want that,’ he grimaced as he pushed his notebook towards you, then took a sip from his lukewarm drink. The whipped cream on top of Mark’s iced chocolate had become such a sorry sight, honestly.

He didn’t seem to mind, though.

So you didn’t ponder over it, either, despite your unreasonable urge to take it out of his hands and order a new iced chocolate for him for his hard work. He really hadn’t exaggerated when he had said he wanted to give his all during this project.

Hovering over the worn notebook, you read through the new passages, frowning at how much his words actually resonated with you not because it was a bad thing, but because despite the ugly truth in them, they did sound dramatic. You could totally picture your classmates calling you ungrateful for not appreciating what both of you had: a caring significant other.

‘Yeah, I… Maybe we could switch up “lifeless” with… Hm,’ you tapped your lower lip with your index finger once, twice, three times, before you leaned back against your chair and let out a contemplative sigh. ‘You know, I thought writing a whole ass story about the same topic is difficult, but these rhymes! It feels like I’m writing nursery songs when I finally come up with something,’ you let out a pained chuckle because seriously, even with your expanded vocabulary, your ideas were nowhere near as amazing as Mark’s verses.

He was so good at what he was doing.

But then again, he was in his last year just like you. And he had passed the uni entrance exam of his major with flying colours, if his stories could have been trusted.

‘I like your nursery songs,’ Mark comments between two sips, his gaze on his notebook so damn intense, you were kind of convinced he didn’t even notice he was complimenting you. Otherwise, his cheeks would have already had a rose-coloured tint to them (like it usually happened when he felt embarrassed or too exposed). ‘Besides, I could never write over twenty pages about the same characters. That’s just wild.’

You sucked in your lower lip, the sudden hit of shyness dressing your whole face in a darker, crimson colour as you tried to downplay your hard work in your head, as you tried so hard to find the perfect words that could have simultaneously got the spotlight off you and belittle those hours you spent on your stories…

Your struggle must have been written on your face, because before you could have done as much as open your mouth, Mark smiled at you and your mind went blank.

So you just accepted the compliment - was that a compliment? - with a small ‘Thanks,’ and an even smaller smile.

Since you preferred working on your stories in silence, in the sanctuary of your room where no one judged you for rewriting the same paragraphs way too many times, you didn’t have your Google doc pulled up in front of you. However, you did take a couple of notes in your phone while you were munching on the rest of your sandwich.

You liked how neither you, nor Mark felt the need to fill the silence all the time with mindless chatter. You also liked how he was undoubtedly curious, but never pushy. He made sure you knew he was eager to hear about your process, your life even, but kept his questions to the minimum.

It had been a while since you met someone who adjusted to your needs so easily, Yuju being the last and second addition to the group right after your father. 

‘You know…’ Mark started in a neutral voice, urging you to shift your focus point and look up at him. Hence, you did, abandoning your phone slowly as you carefully put it back on the table.

Mark was silent for a moment, wordlessly scribbling out words then rewriting entire lines in his already messy notebook, which admittedly made you smile under your nose. The peculiar sight almost made you believe that you could have written a page or two yourself in the boy’s company: that as unthinkable as it sounded, his presence wouldn’t have forced you out of the zone while you were immersed in your work.

You shook your head to get rid of this useless train of thoughts. It wasn’t appropriate; and the fact that your instincts told you it wasn’t appropriate just made it even more inappropriate, because seriously. Why was it freaking you out internally that the two of you clicked so much when it should have made you relieved instead? Wasn’t it an amazing thing that he was a nice project partner?

‘Sometimes it feels like Haeri likes me more than how much I like her.’

Your eyes widened in shock before you quickly schooled your facial expression. You didn’t want him to feel judged when you were the last person on Earth who had the right to call him out on his confession. Not that anyone should have been allowed to make comments on other people’s personal business, let alone their relationship with their soulmate.

Trying to disregard just how heavy the atmosphere got, you tilted your head sideways and gave the boy a non-judgemental smile, because that was the best you could do with your lack of experience in comforting people. You hoped your seemingly calm demeanour would distract him long enough, so you could think back of the last time your father had helped you through a rough period in your life.

What had he done when you had gotten rejected by the university you had wanted to attend the most? Ah, he had brought you something sweet, a slice of red velvet cake maybe, and told you his own experience with rejections and how he had gotten his shit together each time he had come face to face with a closed door. 

‘Sometimes I get anxious when it’s just the two of us with Dejun.’

The urge to cover your mouth with both of your hands as soon as the words were out in the open was strong, but you tried your best to fight it and act rather nonchalant: like what you had just admitted didn’t go against everything the society taught you about soulmates. Like it was normal that you felt so on edge around someone who was made especially for you.

You reached out for your own drink and slurped it until the last freaking drop, so you had a convenient excuse to stand up and leave the scene. You didn’t look back as you walked up to the counter and stood in the line, wishing for the barista to work at the speed of a snail. You intended to waste at least five or so minutes on waiting, so your heart could have rested a bit before you had to face Mark again.

Why had you said that? You shouldn’t have said that. Not like that. You should have found a better way to put it. Or you should have just kept your mouth shut and found another way to reassure Mark that there was nothing wrong with him.

You felt so ashamed of yourself suddenly. You simultaneously wished that your pitiful words had never gotten back to Dejun and that somehow he had figured your true feelings out, so you could have been freed from this choking weight on your chest.

Since when were you so goddamn selfish?

Once it was your turn to order - it was too soon, way too soon -, you asked for a matcha latte and two slices of chocolate cake, then paid with your card and reassured the barista that his coworker didn’t have to carry your tray to your table, you were more than happy to wait for it by the counter while he took the next customer’s order. If he wanted to look at you funny because of your strange request, he did his best to conceal his thoughts. He simply informed the female barista behind his back about your instructions and turned to the next customer.

Mark said thanks for the sweet treat when you eventually placed the chocolate cake between his drink and notebook and teasingly promised to buy you something equally high in sugar the next time you two met up as he reached out for the tiny, metal fork. He didn’t bring up the soulmate topic for the rest of your supposed brainstorming session despite how it should have been the main subject of your meeting. Instead, he shared random stories with you about Haechan, and how his weird friend was competing for Renjun’s attention these days with a dude called Yuchan - his own partner for the same project you two were working on.

‘He likes Renjun a lot, doesn’t he?’ You asked, more as a mindless statement to show some interest in the topic than anything else.

The boy simply hummed in response, his knowing smile barely hiding in the corner of his mouth as he turned back to his notebook and jotted down a couple of new lines and potential rhymes while you were busy finishing your dessert.

Your afternoon ended up being pretty productive in the end, and the additional two pages you wrote later that night only added to the satisfaction you felt as you got ready for bed.

You didn’t pay any mind to them initially. In fact, you hardly noticed the slight changes in your own body language and the slowly decreasing distance between your bodies whenever you spend some one on one time with Mark outside of your shared class. However, your obliviousness didn’t change the fact that your meetups were getting longer and longer, or that your conversations became more and more diverse.

The first time you heard people talk about your “dates” with the boy, you were at the popular organic coffee shop on campus with Yuju, who immediately pulled you towards a different table when she realised what was going on.

Rumours. There were rumours about you cheating on Dejun with Mark Lee.

Your hands were shaking the whole time you were waiting for your food and drink, and when you finally got them, you tugged on your best friend’s sleeve to plead with her, so she would ask the barista on your behalf to change your order into take away. You didn’t want to spend your free period in public anymore. On the other hand, you also couldn’t make yourself speak up, too ashamed for inconveniencing the poor worker.

You didn’t go to your last class that day. You didn’t even leave your dorm room until Dejun sent you a text that he was waiting for you in the communal area.

Your messy bed hair and your loose sweatpants and hoodie combo had never resembled your mood more than at that moment you dragged yourself to the lounge, towards the khaki couch your boyfriend was sitting on, patiently waiting.

The major part of your anxiety rooted in your belief that your actions and conscious decisions had finally made Dejun see that you were a horrible soulmate. And while you did have your doubts about the whole system and how compatible these magical bonds truly were, the idea of losing your destined partner so early into your life was terrifying.

You were terrified of failing that one person in the world whose life you were supposed to fill with nothing but happiness.

‘It’s okay, love. Come here,’ was the first thing that left the boy’s mouth, and your eyes got a little teary upon seeing his arms spread wide open for you. Like always, he made sure you knew that you could find peace in his embrace if that was what you needed.

You crushed into Dejun’s body without hesitation, and he scooped you up in his arms, letting you get comfortable on his lap despite those students nearby who were not-so-subtly looking at you. You didn’t even notice them, too occupied by holding onto your boyfriend’s tee and hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

‘I’m so sorry. I… I’m so, so, so sorry,’ you apologised over and over again, until your throat got dry and your voice a little husky.

Meanwhile, Dejun kept petting your hair and stroking your back gently with his other hand that didn’t help with your balance.

‘It’s okay. I know you. I know you would never do anything like that,’ he whispered in your ears, reassuring you that he didn’t believe any of those nasty stories that were circulating on campus about you and Mark Lee, and that he would never give you any ultimatums, either, because you were free to make friends regardless of their gender.

Until Mark treated you with respect and didn’t cross your boundaries, he was okay with the guy. Especially because neither of you had ever given him any reasons to suspect you of cheating. You never failed to inform your boyfriend about your meetings in spite of them being regular occurrences, and that one time he had met Mark in front of your lecture hall, the boy had told him he was okay with the two of you going on an impromptu date instead of your scheduled study session if that had been Dejun’s reason for waiting for you. Mark Lee hadn’t thrown a tantrum, he hadn’t tried to make you choose or outright guilt-trip you into staying with him.

He had simply introduced himself and wished you a good time.

‘But the…’

‘Not buts. These people are just bored out of their mind. I’m telling you it’s okay. So believe me, please, when I say these rumours don’t change anything for me,’ he kept coaxing you out of that dark place your mind had pushed you into, starting to rock you back and forth as much as he could in your less than ideal position on the couch.

You didn’t know how long it took him to make you stop blaming yourself for the current situation, and you had no idea how many people witnessed or recorded this intimate moment between you two, but it didn’t really matter in that soft, fluffy bubble Dejun’s love and care created for you to heal in.

You felt safe and secure in your relationship.

Pulling a little further from his shoulder and looking him in the eyes, you had absolutely no doubt about it that he meant every word: both about his feelings for you and about your friendship with Mark.

‘I…’ you choked on your words, unable to express yourself the way you wanted to due to the sudden guilt that washed over you when you realised you couldn’t tell him you loved him, even though a part of you knew you did. You loved Dejun, but saying it out loud felt wrong, almost like a white lie that could break your relationship over time. And you hated how damn frustrated your own incapabilities made you feel.

Because you loved your boyfriend.

You just weren’t sure your love had the same weight his had for you.

‘I’m so grateful for you. I really am,’ you said at the end, slowly lifting your hands to his cheeks and cupping his face. As you were caressing his skin with your thumbs, you wished your eyes could convey just how honest you were at that moment; you wished he knew you loved him in your own way, you were simply too insecure about your feelings in comparison to his.

He gave you too much.

‘I know,’ Dejun gifted you a brilliant smile, before he mimicked your actions and cupped your face, so that he could pull you closer for an innocent peck on the lips. It was lovely, he was lovely, hence naturally, you couldn’t have helped yourself but mirror his pleased grin, your heart lighter and not at the very same time.

It was confusing, this whole soulmate bond you shared, but you decided to not ponder over the torrent inside you, but be happy that you still had this amazing person in your life.

You stayed in the lounge for a little longer, your face buried in the junction between Dejun’s neck and shoulder, then let yourself be convinced to change into less cosy clothes, because apparently, your boyfriend had hoped to take you out on a date once your situation had been sorted out.

Even though it was a program for only the two of you, you didn’t find the power in yourself to cancel his plans. Tagging along was the least you could do for him after he had proven you his unfaltering support.

You didn’t have huge expectations for how the rest of your afternoon would go. Since you had an inkling that it was Yuju who had informed your boyfriend about how upset you were about the rumours, you were kind of certain he was aware that you had never gotten to eat your late lunch after your European Literature lecture around two. Therefore, you accepted that he would feed you as an act of kindness and genuine care for you, and pushed down the knot in your throat that took away your appetite.

Walking up to an empty table at your favourite hamburger place - which was a comfortable, ten-minute walk from your dormitory -, the last thing you could have imagined to see was Mark Lee being berated in public by a pretty brunette you had only ever seen pictures of. Your slow steps came to an immediate halt and your eyes widened in horror when the furious girl abruptly stood up from her chain and reached out for the milkshake her boyfriend was anxiously playing with.

‘Shut the hell up, I’m not doing that. We’re not doing that, you asshole,’ she screamed in his face, and was clearly about to do something drastic when one of the waiters marched up to their table and grabbed the girl’s wrist.

You could feel Dejun’s fingers being wrapped around your own, too, before he gently pulled you towards an empty table on the other side of the customer area. You barely registered your feet moving, hyper fixated on Mark’s resigned face and overall emotionless demeanour. You had never seen him so unresponsive. It was as though he felt nothing - no anger, frustration or desperation, no fear - while his girlfriend felt everything on behalf of the both of them.

The longer you were watching them, the more uneasy you felt and at one point, you had to force yourself to tear your gaze away when you felt your boyfriend push you down on a chair with your back to the commotion. 

‘If you want to comfort him, send him a text,’ he suggested, his voice gentle. There wasn’t a hint of accusation in it, like he wasn’t talking about the very guy people on campus claimed was fucking you behind his back. Your lips trembled not only because of how ashamed you felt at that moment, but because you really, truly wanted to be there for Mark, and Dejun had realised it sooner than your mind had caught up on it. ‘I just don’t want you anywhere near that girl. Especially right now.’

You pursed your lips together and nodded, understanding where he was coming from while you were simultaneously grateful for the reminder of how bad it could have ended if you had given in to your urge to walk up to the couple. You hated public attention - you couldn’t have been able to handle the negative spotlight.

‘I’m sorry, you’re right. Thank you,’ you said and reached out for the laminated menu card in the middle of the table despite how familiar both of you were with each item on it. It was more of a way of stalling, of putting yourself back together than anything else.

You didn’t want any of the waiters to come up to you and take your order. You didn’t want any attention on you, no matter how miniscule, until Haeri was still in the same building. You were scared of her anger and just how justified it might have felt if she had blamed you for their relationship troubles.

Dejun reached out for your hand tentatively and stroked your sensitive skin between the base of your thumb and index finger in a calming manner before he started to chat your ears off about the hamburger he wanted to try. Apparently, there were three new items on the menu that you hadn’t even noticed, one of them a burger with two patties, tomato and pickle slices, blueberry jam and various spices you would have never thought of mixing together, but hell if it hadn’t sounded intriguing.

Thus you decided to order a similar one with strawberry jam and caramelised onion rings and refused to think about Haeri, Mark Lee and any of the stupid rumours that might have led to their fight.  

You told yourself you had to set your priorities straight.

You told yourself contacting Mark could have waited an hour or so. Because it could. It had to. You had no justifiable reason to put him before your own relationship.

Except, when you eventually got down to message him, Mark left your first text on read and didn’t open any of the following ones. A nasty voice inside of your head told you that he was reading them through his notifications, but you couldn’t have been sure, thus you couldn’t decide whether you should have felt annoyed or worried.

On the first night, tossing and turning in your bed, you settled on the latter. However, when he purposely avoided as much as looking at you during your weekly Creative writing slash Lyrics writing seminar, it took everything in you to not look hurt and irritated. On the one hand, you had seen his fight with Haeri, so you understood that you might have been the last person he wanted to be near. On the other hand, you didn’t want to accept that either of you had done anything wrong just because you had become friends.

If you had let yourself believe that what you two had was hurting your soulmate bonds, you would have started to spiral again despite how much time and effort your boyfriend had put into convincing you that everything was alright.

That your connection wasn’t damaged.

So you shook your head and accepted his decision with dignity - albeit, with a heavy heart. It was a soothing gel to your open wounds that at least you had already agreed on the plot for your story and his song. This way, you really didn’t have to force any conversations with him that would have surely spoiled your precious memories with the boy.

As expected, Mark Lee didn’t join you during the second half of your class for your usual, light-hearted brainstorming session, so you busied yourself with a book that you were reading for a different course. Not a second after the bell signalled the end of the seminar, you were walking towards the wooden double doors like a man on a mission.

Your steps didn’t falter: not when you heard Haechan calling your name, nor when he scolded Mark for something you didn’t quite catch and had no interest in anyway.

You were a horrible liar. And a horrible soulmate.

Because while you were determined to convince yourself that Mark’s cold behaviour didn’t bother you at all - it was his loss, wasn’t this what people always said? -, you couldn’t stop thinking about his blank face throughout the rest of the day.

Did this alone make you the worst soulmate in history? Debatable. However, what definitely earned you that title was the fact that you were currently cuddled up with your boyfriend on his couch, watching a silly Chinese movie about high school sweethearts, and you had no idea what the real story was about. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about Mark Lee and the possible end of your friendship.

You hissed, skin burning around your soulmate mark underneath your hoodie’s sleeve. It was Dejun’s hoodie, to be precise, but he always put it on his bed, neatly folded, when he knew you were coming over, so you wouldn’t have to look through his massive wardrobe in search of your comfort clothes. This was how precious your time was to him.

How precious you were to him.

You swallowed down the panicked lump in your throat and deliberately disregarded the pain. You told yourself that it was nothing, that until your boyfriend showed no sign of discomfort, it was only in your head. After all, if your bond had reached its breaking point because of your shameful thoughts, he would have felt it, too.

It was so itchy, though, as though your mark craved your attention and was determined to get it no matter what it took. It was driving you up the wall, and it also made it even harder to concentrate on the movie you were watching.

So at one point, you gave in and excused yourself, heading straight to the bathroom.

‘Do you want me to stop it?’ You could hear your boyfriend’s worried voice, and you gave it a quick thought on your way, concluding that it would have been suspicious if you had acted any differently from how you usually were on these nights, so you took him up on the offer despite having no interest in the movie.

As soon as the bathroom door was closed behind your back, you rolled up your sleeve like a maniac and came face to face with your biggest fear: your soulmate was single. Which could only mean two things - one more terrifying than the other.

You let your arm fall back by your side with a defeated sigh and sat down on the toilet lid, so your legs couldn’t give out at the most inconvenient time possible. You had to start breathing again. There was no way you could have afforded falling apart at Dejun’s place after you had single-handedly undermined your shared future.

Pulling on your hair out of frustration, you almost let out an unhinged laughter as you were contemplating which one would have been worse: you losing your soulmate because of a new friendship that might not have existed anymore, or you wasting both Dejun’s and your time in a relationship that was built on a false sense of belonging.

Could it have been a cruel joke that your soulmate marks had changed at the same moment, just when you had agreed to be his girlfriend? Seriously, what were the changes? How many other couples could have been out there, oblivious to the fact that they weren’t meant to be? You had gotten lucky with Dejun, his gentle and caring nature always wanting the best for you, but what about those people who were convinced that they were with the right person while being abused by their own partner?

Your head in the gutter, you couldn’t stop thinking about how much more sense this error in the system made when you were recalling stories about domestic violence, cheaters and financial abuse. God, you felt so stupid. You felt so damn angry.

Why was no one talking about the existence of mismatches? Why were they swept under the rug like they weren’t real?

‘Hey, love! Are you okay in there? Do you need me to bring you some painkillers or a cup of your peppermint tea?’ Dejun’s worried voice filtered through the fog in your mind, your lips trembling because of how amazing this guy was. A gem of a man. He didn’t deserve a shitty fake-soulmate like you.

You choked on the first sob that escaped your throat.

‘Jun…’ you cried, drowning in the crazy mixture of your emotions, unsure which ones were appropriate to begin with and which ones you should have focused on in the first place. You didn’t want to lose Dejun: this one thing you were sure about. However, the ugly realisation that it was more because of the stability he gave you than the love you felt for him filled you with instant disgust.

You were shaking as the world around you slowly fell apart.

‘Can I come in?’ You didn’t respond, but you didn’t have to, because the next thing you heard was your boyfriend warning you in a slightly louder voice: ‘I’m coming in!’

Your body tensed up and relaxed simultaneously when Dejun scooped you up and pulled you against his chest, so he could rest your head in the crook of his neck and caress your back like his touch could brush aside all your distress.

‘It’s okay, everything is okay,’ he repeated over and over, holding you a little tighter once you showed a sign that you were there with him despite your silence. ‘Whatever happened, I’m here for you. I’m here for you.’

‘But you won’t be…’ you objected even though you didn’t truly believe that he would pack his things and leave the moment he realised you weren’t the right person for him. He was just too kind to do something so cruel, especially when you were clearly having a breakdown. If anything, you could have bet on it that he would make sure you were in the right state of mind before he cut you out of his life. Yeah, you had little doubt about that: he would have tried to put you back together before he left.

However, at the end of the day, facts remained facts. He wouldn’t be here for you for much longer and not many things were quite okay, either.

‘I will be. I’m not leaving you,’ he kept repeating, every time a bit firmer, which pretty much made it impossible for you to break the news to him. This imaginary, ugly, sticky, hairy lump in your throat just got bigger and bigger.

So you gave yourself a pitiful moment to bask in the warmth of Dejun, the comfort he never failed to provide you, then slowly pulled away from his chest and rolled up your sleeve. You couldn’t take your eyes off the slightly red skin around your new soulmate mark, which was the less painful sight anyway.

The look on Dejun’s face when the realisation hit him? You could barely steal a glance at it while your gaze loitered over his tense body and hasty movements as he checked his own mark, but it already broke your heart.

‘We are…’ your boyfriend - was he still your boyfriend? - tentatively took your arm into his hand, then brushed his thumb over the new letters, shaking. It was clear that he had a hard time putting his feelings into words, and you couldn’t blame him. Out of the two of you, you had always thought it was him who loved you more. Thus, his pain must have been ten times worse than yours and you were already over at least one mental breakdown.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ you repeated like a broken record, because you genuinely didn’t know how else to express the guilt that weighed down on you even though logically speaking it was neither of your fault. You had agreed to become official, your tattoos had changed, it had worked just like in the textbooks.

Why would anyone have questioned the validity of your bond? You had never been taught about the precautions you should have made. Up until this moment, you didn’t even know it was possible to end up with someone who wasn’t your soulmate.

This whole situation made your head hurt and sucked the energy out of your limbs.

The heavier the silence became, the gloomier the atmosphere got, but you were too drained to figure out how to fix it, so you let Dejun process the unbelievable at his own speed, letting him caress your skin as if his strokes could have erased or re-written the black lines under your skin.

They couldn’t. But they did ease some of the tension in your muscles after a while.

You started to wear long-sleeved clothes and nude covers after that tear-filled night to avoid another wave of nasty rumours around campus about you and your relationship with Dejun. The two of you had decided to talk about your future once you calmed down properly and let yourselves think through your options without jumping to conclusions. As far as Dejun knew the two of you worked well together, so it was understandable why he didn’t want to rush the break-up. On the other hand, your rational side and your heart saw the current situation as the perfect opportunity to start an internal war.

Your life was definitely enviable with Dejun, so you could see the appeal of staying with him for a very long time, building a home together and maybe even starting a family, because you had no doubt about it that he would be a wonderful husband and a wonderful father, but… It finally made sense: why a part of you always missed that something special people liked to brag about when they were talking about their significant other.

Fortunately, the deadlines of your semester projects and lengthy assignments slowly arrived, along with your upcoming exam week, so you were too busy to think about any of the drama in your personal life. Mark Lee ghosting you without any heads up? Who could care about that when they had a six-pages-long essay to finish on the political influence of French literacy? Dejun checking on you every morning, lunch break and evening while also refusing to meet you face to face? Nah, the importance of the founding of Hangul with hundreds of Chinese characters to memorise had to be your top priority.

You couldn’t lose both your boyfriend and your scholarship in the same semester. You had to focus on your education. You also needed to finish the first draft of your thesis by the end of the week.

Letting out a tired sigh, you took a sip from your lukewarm coffee latte and shifted your gaze from your notes to the person in front of the professor’s stand. Renjun was talking about the story he and Yuchan had come up with for this class, yet, if anyone had asked you what was their final topic, you couldn’t have answered beyond the very basics: that just like everyone else, they had built their project around the soulmate system.

God, you couldn’t have waited to be done with this shit for good.

‘Thank you, Yuchan, Renjun,’ the two professors clapped their hands modestly after their constructive feedback, then jotted down a few more comments on their papers and called for the next group.

Your duo with Mark Lee.

Since you hadn’t talked with the boy in a while, you weren’t exactly sure what to expect of your presentation; however, you had done your homework and prepared a neat PPT about your concept, so it should have been okay.

Except, when you walked in front of the class, in front of the stand where Mark was already waiting for you with his guitar in his hand, your brain went blank. He looked… different yet so damn familiar, it was messing with your head.

‘Okay, which one of you would like to start?’ The Lyrics writing professor asked, his curious eyes wandering from you to his own student as he leaned back against his seat comfortably.

You gulped and quickly shook yourself out of your stupor, but before you could have raised your hand or blurted out a timid “Me!”, Mark beat you to it and pulled a chair in front of the professor’s stand, so he could play the guitar with more ease.

You stepped a bit further from him to give him space - you also appreciated the invisibility that came with your decisions, the other students’ attention laser focused on the boy -, and linked your arms under your boobs, pressing your notes against your chest. Due to his sudden silent treatment, you hadn’t had the chance to hear any snippets of the melody in advance, but it didn’t surprise you how soft the short intro had come out to be. 

It sounded beautiful, in a very bittersweet, heart-churning way.

It was the perfect OST for your short story.

Towards the second verse, when he was singing about the oblivious victims of a system that should have only brought them happiness, your eyes filled with tears to the brim, but you quickly turned away and wiped them harshly, because it really wasn’t the time. You would need to present your story in detail in less than two minutes. Three, if you were lucky.

You didn’t remember the presentation. You couldn’t process any of the constructive feedback you received from your professors. The only thing you were quite sure about, somewhere in the back of your head, was that Mark Lee had led you back to your seat by your elbow, then taken a seat in front of you.

The latter was still a thing: his messy, brown hair in your line of sight while the next duo was talking about their own perspectives with vivid hand-gestures, almost like they were openly arguing in front of everyone. It was weird. You felt weird.

Your eager fingers picked on the edge of the nude plaster you had put on your soulmate mark that morning. Deep down you knew that if you had taken off the cover, nothing would have changed. However, a part of you still hoped that things could go back to how they had used to be.

Did that make you a relationship addict?

Had you developed an unreasonable fear of ending up all alone?

You let out an exasperated sigh. It wasn’t healthy: your thoughts focusing on one thing so restlessly like you were starting to become obsessed with your relationship status, although Dejun had never broken up with you. He was still choosing you despite the palpable distance, putting your well-being first. So why couldn’t you just let it go?

You furrowed your brows when you felt the light vibration of your phone against the small of your back, and you turned your upper body slightly in order to fish it out of your tote bag as it could have been something important. You deliberately silenced the voice inside your head that told you it could be Dejun reaching out to you. For one, he also had a class in this period. For two, he was a meticulous person. He wouldn’t have rushed himself make a decision as important as your future together.

You shook your head, mentally debating whether it would have been a good or bad thing if you had been wrong about your boyfriend’s stance on this whole mess, when your gaze fell on the notification on your screen. It was a kakao message from Mark, asking you to meet up with him after your class. Just a laconic “pls. same place, same time”.

You were ashamed to admit, but you were staring at the message for quite a while before you sent back a hopefully nonchalant “ok” and shoved your phone back into your bag. You had mixed feelings about his sudden interest in you, but it was the day of your presentation, the end of your project, so you might have as well entertained him a little. As far as you were concerned, he wanted to discuss the feedback with you or give you his two cents on the rather bitter ending of your story.

You told yourself it was a writer thing: that you wanted to hear his opinion.

It wasn’t that you were hopeful, and God forbid did it mean that you were hoping that the two of you could still be friends.

By the time your shared class ended, you were half-convinced, though. And you also had this baseless confidence that despite your nerves, you appeared to be nonchalant. Whether that was true or not, it didn’t really matter. The belief alone gave you enough strength to not walk a step behind Mark Lee while the two of you were heading towards the coffee shop you had used to frequent at.

You were walking side by side as if everything was alright.

As an introvert, you would have never thought that ordering your drink from a trainee barista you had never seen before could be the least stressful part of your meet-up with someone you had once considered your friend, but as soon as you took a seat and Mark did the same across from you, the silence turned unbearable. It made your palms clammy, your heart rate unstable and your stomach upset with the whole situation. At one point, you were genuinely afraid that the new employee had messed up your order and you would shit yourself on campus because of a few sips of fresh milk, like that was even possible.

You weren’t even lactose-intolerant. You simply preferred drinking plant-based milk, like oat and almond milk, when you had that option because of your acne-prone skin.

‘I broke up with Haeri,’ was the first thing that left the boy’s mouth, and it pretty much made it impossible for you to form any coherent sentence.

Mark had broken his bond with his soulmate - and there was a big possibility that he had been pushed to do so because of the rumours your friendship had started. You felt sick to your stomach. You had no idea what to say, whether to comfort him or give him advice. Whether you were even qualified to act as a relationship expert when yours was hanging on by a thin thread.

You refused to take your eyes off your drink, your quiet reaction no more than a soft hum. You wished Mark would have told you what he had expected from this conversation. If he had wanted to reconcile or simply inform you about his break-up before the two of you went on separate ways.

The carrot cake you ordered was way too sweet. You frowned once you swallowed down the first bite.

‘Both of our soulmate marks stayed the same, though…’ he added after a bit of hesitation, like he was carefully looking for the words to explain the situation. ‘Which means our real soulmates are… yeah. Still in relationships.’

Eyes wide like saucers, you looked at Mark in bewilderment. So Dejun and you weren’t the only ones. (Of course, you weren’t the only ones, that part had never been a question!) God, if it hadn’t felt unreal to know someone who was going through the same experience! What were the chances?

‘Dejun is not my soulmate,’ you blurted out without any regard for those who were sitting at the table next to yours or checking if anyone was listening in on your conversation. Maybe, it wasn’t the wisest idea to discuss something so raw and intimate in a public space; however, at that moment these concerns barely crossed your mind.

You accidentally found someone who could fully understand your current fears and struggles without being involved in the situation itself. Someone who had enough insight to support you without the need to shelter his own heart, thus distance himself from you. That was… you were right, and he finally decided to stop ghosting you in the first place.

‘Oh…’ Mark acknowledged your confession with a disappointed little sound, his lips jutting out while he stole a quick glance at the soulmate mark on his wrist.

Your surprise was genuine when you realised that unlike you, he was wearing his unchanged tattoo on his skin with confidence. But you figured, it was different when most people around him still thought he was happy and very much together with Haeri.

He would have had more questions to answer if he had suddenly started to cover up the proof of their love.

‘Do you think the profs liked our take on the topic?’ You asked when the silence became too long, and Mark showed no sign of adding anything more to your discussion. You took a small yet determined bite from your cake. It was still overly sweet, but you would be damned if you had let it go to waste for the money you had spent on it. ‘I kind of… zoned out when they were giving us feedback.’

The corner of Mark’s lips twitched, but he tried his best to swallow back his giggles. He even went as far as reaching out for his drink, so he could occupy himself in a somewhat subtle way.

He was painfully obvious. Still, you appreciated the gesture almost as much - if not more - as his willingness to go along with your lame attempt at changing the topic.

Two hours and a half had never flown by so fast, so easily.

Your life took on a new norm after your final exams.

For once, you moved back to Ansan for the school break (partly) to save some money on savoury fast food and unnecessarily yet aesthetic coffee dates that you liked to take yourself on. It was also less stressful to work on your thesis in the comfort of your childhood home, your dad never the one to skip out on serving you freshly cut, peeled fruit slices to boost your brain. Naturally, the closeness of your family was a real remedy for your troubled soul.

Meanwhile, Mark Lee took it upon himself to keep you updated on the city life and got into a never-ending conversation with you on instagram and kakao, his random questions and lyrics snippers seldom preceded by any hellos or his. Long story short, he took the whole “never making you feel ghosted or left out again” very seriously, even though you had reassured him on multiple occasions that you didn’t have to know everything about his days. Once he had started, there had been no turning back.

He kept your mind constantly occupied - that was your only excuse for forgetting about your relationship troubles with Dejun and not realising just how unhealthy and dependent it was to keep sending your boyfriend the same three messages each and every day: a curt good night, a somewhat more lively good morning and a repeated promise that you were taking good care of yourself despite your tendency to skip meals when they weren’t pre-made.

So imagine your surprise when Mark absent-mindedly asked you during one of your chill video calls whether you were still in a relationship despite your new soulmate mark, and the answer didn’t come to you as naturally as it was supposed to. Sure, Dejun wasn’t your one and only whom the universe had sent especially to you, and it had been over a month since you had seen his face, but he had promised you that… 

You still referred to him as your boyfriend in your head!

Not to mention that he would have told you if he had made up his mind, if he had wanted to put an end to your relationship and stay in your life only as a friend. Because he would have wanted to stay in your life, wouldn’t he? He had said he wasn’t leaving you, he just needed some time to digest the undeniable: that your soulmate was suddenly single, but the two of you had never broken up.

You had never broken up. You still hadn’t broken up.

Right?

‘I think so?’ You semi-asked, semi-claimed while you were picking on your nails, resisting the urge to pick up the fantasy book you had carefully put on your bedside table when Mark had called you. It was difficult to look into your front camera, so you kept your gaze on your hands.

‘You think so?’ The boy asked back, clearly taken aback by your answer.

You huffed, annoyed at him for no reason. 

Hell. Maybe it was yourself you were truly frustrated with. Had you even made the smallest attempt at fixing your relationship with Dejun? You were just waiting on him as though the ball was on his court now when in reality, you had never made the first move.

It was comfortable, way too comfortable, that you didn’t have to deal with the situation head on since Dejun wasn’t around. Because he “needed space”. When had been the last time you had checked on how he was doing? A good girlfriend would have been more worried about his well-being.

You gulped as a sudden wave of guilt washed over you.

‘I didn’t…’ you let out another strained sigh, your cheeks burning due to embarrassment, although you were fairly confident that Mark wouldn’t have judged you for what you were about to say. ‘I haven’t seen him in a while, and I never really asked him how he feels about us or… how he feels.’

‘Oh…’

‘It sounds horrible,’ you murmured under your nose, willing yourself to glance at the screen of your phone, so you could see Mark’s face. You had to look him in the eye to decipher how he felt about your actions, because his silence wasn’t easy to read. Was he disappointed? Did he think you were a bad person?

Somehow, the first option was scarier.

‘I’m not gonna lie, man, it does sound like you’re delaying the inevitable because it’s easy to not be the ���bad guy” who breaks his heart, but…’

‘But?’ You interjected a little desperately as you were hoping that there would come a part in which you didn’t sound as selfish as you did in his analysis. Surely, you weren’t keeping your boyfriend in your relationship because it was convenient or because you were a coward who couldn’t put an end to your suffering.

You swallowed back a groan. You were being ridiculous, comparing whatever you two had to real agony. 

‘You’re not a horrible person. I know you, you were talking about yourself and not this whole thing when you said that, so yeah. Don’t think about yourself that way, because it’s not true,’ he confirmed a second time, sending you a tight-lipped smile through the camera before he turned over and made himself more comfortable on his own bed.

You reciprocated the gesture with a smaller albeit grateful smile.

The two of you stayed silent for a while. Mark was humming a song you hadn’t recognized, while you were thinking about how to make things right.

‘Do you think I should meet up with him? Talk things through? Break up with him?’ You asked, but the more you spoke, the clearer it became that these were exactly the things you had to do, so you weren’t actually surprised when instead of giving you a direct answer, Mark gifted you a proud smile and asked you about your thesis.

He was so unsubtle whenever he made an attempt at diverting the topic, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you found it quite adorable.

‘Actually! I might be able to wrap-up my analysis this week. It depends on whether or not my period gets in the way on the weekend,’ you bragged, genuinely proud of your progress that was only possible because you loved the topic you were researching: the differences between the storytelling of theatre plays and movies written for the silver screen.

‘Cool,’ Mark smiled at you, his teeth on full display. ‘Don’t push yourself too hard, though. You still have a lot of time until the deadline,’ he reminded you immediately, which gave you the perfect opportunity to tease him about his over-protectiveness and his own progress.

You didn’t think about Dejun for the rest of your call, but that also served as another reminder that it was time you started to be honest with him and yourself. Your issues hadn’t started with the change of your soulmate mark. They hadn’t even been brought upon you by the rumours that were still circulating around campus.

They had been there from the very beginning, in your heart, in the way you had always felt the need to invite your friend to your dates with Dejun, in your mild anxiety when the two of you were together without someone else keeping your boyfriend’s attention off of you.

You might have loved Dejun, you still did. However, you had never been in love with him, you could see it now clearly: the subtle yet undeniable difference between these two feelings. God, it was time, wasn’t it? That you finally set him free.

You went back to the capital city the next Saturday, because that was the first afternoon when neither did Dejun have an eight-hour-shift prior, nor were you in constant pain that made you feel easily irritable. One would have thought that one of these conditions would make THE TALK that much easier, but nothing could spare you the heartbreak.

In hindsight, you were grateful to the boy for allowing you - and suggesting - to have this conversation at his own place instead of in the uni dorm or at a public coffee shop, because you were shamelessly ugly crying while you were talking about your doubts and insecurities you had never mentioned to him while you two had been together. It was hard, seeing the hurt in his eyes. It was harder, when despite everything, he still tried to comfort you on his couch, but you did feel a little lighter by the time you two said your goodbyes.

Feeling melancholic, you blinked away another stubborn tear while looking up at the ceiling, then muffled a broken sob that threatened to escape your throat. You were in public now, trying to mend your heart with your favourite blueberry milkshake - and a slice of chocolate cake -, so you really couldn’t have afforded to break down again. That would have done no good to anyone involved; you got exhausted from the mere thought of more drama.

‘Here,’ you heard a familiar voice coming from across the table and something heavy being placed on the metal furniture. Confused, you let your head fall forwards and stared at the new glass of untouched blueberry milkshake in front of you. ‘This one is on me,’ Mark Lee said, not showing any signs of willingness to sit with you - nor to leave you be.

You pressed your lips into a thin line.

‘What are you doing here?’ You asked, because it was easier than saying thank you. Still, you made sure Mark knew you wouldn’t have minded if he stayed by not-so-subtly dragging your gaze from his face to the empty chair at your table, repeating the movement as many times as he needed to see it to understand.

Mark scoffed, more amused than anything, then took a seat.

‘You told me you were about to meet Dejun like…’ he pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. ‘Four hours ago. Then, you went complete radio silence,’ he explained, making you frown. Had it been really that long since you had gotten off the bus near your ex-boyfriend’s place? ‘I was worried about you.’

It still didn’t explain how he had known where to find you when it wasn’t your usual coffee shop on campus, but you figured, you must have mentioned this particular milkshake shop to him enough times for him to draw the right conclusion. It was touching, that he paid so much attention quietly, and just knew when you needed someone’s silent support.

Albeit still only halfway through your first drink, you reached out for the free milkshake and pulled it closer to yourself with a grateful smile.

‘Thanks,’ you exclaimed with a bit more enthusiasm, although your liveliness soon deflated as you didn’t know how to start a light-hearted conversation. You didn’t necessarily want to talk about your mental breakdown in your ex-boyfriend’s living room, still embarrassed about the fact that you had needed to be comforted by the same person you had been deliberately breaking up with.

‘So…’ Mark broke the silence once you finished your first shake as though he wanted you to enjoy every drop of it before he dropped a bomb on you in public. You weren’t sure if his consideration had made any difference, but it was undoubtedly nice to not choke on your drink, so you decided to be grateful. ‘How did it go? Are you two singles again?’

Your first instinct was to hide your soulmate mark from him, which was stupid and irrational, but you guessed that was how instincts were. Your brain didn’t have much say in the process, overwhelmed by your inner need to protect yourself. Like Mark would have ever hurt you. Like your tattoo would have been affected by your recent break-up when its curves and lines had never had any connection to Dejun.

Slowly, you took your hand off your wrist and shrugged.

‘I guess so. I mean… His soulmate is still in a relationship, but… We both acknowledged verbally that we are no longer together, so somewhere in the world, his person also got a new tattoo and…’ you rambled, going on strong about the terrifying possibility that his soulmate - his real soulmate - might have also just realised that she had been in a fake “we’re meant to be” relationship this whole time.

The butterfly effect had never sounded so real and frightening - like a divine punishment that reached hundreds of thousands of innocent people just because once upon a time, two had made a silly mistake.

Someone took your hand. Mark took your hand, and only then you realised that you were trembling slightly. With anxiety? With frustration? Anger? You weren’t sure. Maybe, with a mixture of all three and more.

‘Take a deep breath,’ he instructed you gently, rubbing tentative circles into your skin, on the back of your hand that actually helped a lot more than you would have thought. ‘I know it feels like that right now, but not every relationship is as messed up as you think. Sure, there are people out there like us, like Dejun and Haeri, but there are others, too, who found their person and are happy,’ he said in a quiet voice, holding onto you the whole time.

You wanted to protest, you wanted to tell him how messed up the world was, but was there anything new you could have said to him? Mark was right, he had gone through something similar with his own ex. He knew.

Yet, he sounded almost hopeful. As though he still believed in his bond with his real love, his real partner for life. In the embodiment of the other half of his soul.

You scoffed and turned your head away, but didn’t take your hand out of his hold.

‘I’d like to show you something,’ he tried to ease you back into the conversation, squeezing your fingers lightly to get your attention, which you gave to him without much coaxing. He gifted you a brilliant smile in return.

Mark let go of your hand soon after, so that he could roll up his hoodie’s sleeve and show you his inked wrist.

Single.

His soulmate was single.

‘It changed not long after your last message. Maybe an hour, an hour and a half into your meet-up,’ he confessed, simultaneously shocking and rendering your brain. Was he trying to tell you that he was…

You yanked your hand out of his and stood up abruptly.

‘I’m sorry but… I really can’t do this now. I’m sorry,’ you apologised while you gathered all of your stuff and bolted out of the milkshake place as fast as an olympic athlete.

You weren’t dense. And despite those mistakes you had undoubtedly made during your first relationship, the insecurities and uncertainty each and every one of them had brought into your life, you could see the logic behind Mark’s reasoning. You could see the potential of the two of you becoming more than friends in the future regardless of your differences, because at the end of the day, he made you feel balance and peace.

However, your first-hand experience with misleading hints and mistaken bonds held you back from accepting his theory with open arms. For one, there could have been dozens of other people out there who had gotten single in that time frame he had mentioned. It didn’t matter to your brain that your tattoo had also changed after his fight with Haeri, which should have been suspicious. For two, you weren’t in love with Mark. Sure, you liked the guy, you might have gone as far as to say you felt connected to him on your good days, but was that enough to risk being tricked by destiny for a second time?

Your heart was still tender, and you told this much to Mark who reassured you that he hadn’t intended to come off that strong. He liked you as a person, and more than wanting to be your boyfriend, he wanted to be someone you felt comfortable around, so he was fine staying just your friend. A close friend, but a friend nevertheless.

His words gave you a reason to resist your urge to shut him out. Naturally, you needed a few days to respond to his triple texts and worried voice notes, but once you convinced yourself that meeting him face to face wouldn’t end up in a disaster, your friendship healed itself on its own.

So it didn’t feel rushed when after the new semester began, you started to spend more time in each other’s company than you had done so during your project regardless whether you were working on your schoolwork or enjoying your scarce free time. You justified your decision to meet-up with the boy regularly during your free periods by claiming that Mark brought the best study snacks to your study sessions out of everyone you had ever worked with. He was also a perfectionist, so he understood your need to finish your tasks in advance and never disturbed you when you were writing your assignments. He was… just right, in every sense of the word.

He fitted in your life so seamlessly, without taking you away from your family, Yuju or your other, less present friends, it was insane. Yet, whenever your heart tried to tear down the wall that you had deliberately built between the two of you, your mind hesitated.

It was too early. It was too soon.

And then, it was already time for the annual New Year’s party in your dorm. Time was such a weird, human-made construct.

‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ You could hear Yuju’s concerned voice when you reached out for one of the shot glasses in the middle of the communal kitchen table, the amateurly mixed brandy-soda-coke combo promising nothing good after your second can of cheap beer. Most of the time, you weren’t a big drinker. Not to mention that you hadn’t been to any social gatherings since the semester kick off party way back in February, long before most students had learned your name around campus. However, this time, you had an acceptable reason to put your limits to the test.

After all, it hadn’t been ten minutes since your best friend had asked for your blessing as apparently, she and Dejun had gotten closer after your break-up in August and started to develop feelings for each other along the way. Obviously, Yuju had made sure you knew she would have turned down the guy if any possibility of them working out despite the odds had hurt you, but should your opinion have mattered that much?

Dejun and you had already been history. And while you appreciated Yuju’s thoughtfulness, it made you feel a tad troubled: that a part of her might have seriously considered it as an option that you wouldn’t have been able to put her happiness first.

That aside, you obviously weren’t unaffected by the revelation. You couldn’t put your finger on how they were so ready to give a try to a future together when their real soulmates were out there somewhere, completely unaware of their decision to settle down with someone else. With a person who shouldn’t have felt perfect, right or a complementary part of their life. How could Dejun - of ALL people - be so unafraid when you were terrified to let Mark in?

As another wave of realisation hit you in the face, and you once again learned something new about yourself and your feelings, you sent a bittersweet yet reassuring smile in your friend’s way and lifted your drink a little higher.

‘It’s the last day of the year. If I’m about to make mistakes, there’s no better time for it,’ you reasoned, finding it absolutely hilarious how uncharacteristic you sounded even to your own ears. ‘It’s not because of you guys, I promise, it’s not,’ you added, though, almost as an afterthought, because the concern in Yuju’s eyes didn’t seem to fade, and you didn’t want her to give up on a happy relationship due to something you had to deal with on your own.

It took Yuju an eye-killing staring contest to not question your sincerity, but she did give you a semi-convinced nod after she had lost, so you were able to join the group shot. You could even have a second round before she pointed at something behind your back and informed you that Mark Lee was clearly elbowing his way through the crowd to get to you.

Just the person you wanted to see! How did he even know on which floor you were when the dorm had six floors, each one of them filled with students partying for a different genre of music?

Your heart skipped a silly beat when your fuzzy mind came up with the idea that Mark Lee was going through floor after floor just to find you. Then, it sped up again as you imagined him knowing you well enough to be aware of where you would be hiding from him. (If you had been really hiding from him, which you obviously didn’t do and would have never admitted doing so, anyway.)

‘So it’s the 2000s’ Disney classics now, hah?’ He greeted you with a cheeky smile, his brown orbs twinkling with amusement and a pinch of mischief - two things you tried to shut out as much as possible. Dealing with his stupid grin was already challenging enough, you didn’t need more.

‘Everyone loves High School Musical,’ you retorted, although you both knew these kinds of songs weren’t high on your preference list. In fact, you could have been found listening to drama and anime OSTs sooner than any of these western classics.

Luckily, Mark was wise enough to not call you out on your bullshit for the second time under one minute.

‘Hey, Mark! Can you make sure she doesn’t drink too much, at least, not unsupervised? The second floor has, apparently, a few legendary ballads in their karaoke machine, and I want to get there before Dejun is up,’ Yuju explained before she turned towards you and cupped your cheeks with her hands. Your pout was genuine and sulky, not because she was about to check on her soon-to-be-boyfriend or because said boyfriend-to-be was your ex, but because she was about to ditch you and consequently leave you alone with your supposed-to-be soulmate. You whined as you held onto her sleeve. ‘I’ll be back in an hour. Be good,’ she reassured you right before she peeled your fingers off her clothes and left.

Your lips trembled in distress as your head fell forwards and your shoulders sagged.

You barely flinched when Mark’s palm tentatively touched your blade bone. In fact, the warm breath that accompanied his worried ‘Are you okay?’ had a lot more impact on you when he leaned closer to make sure you could hear him clearly.

As you slowly turned around to face him, you were wondering how it would have felt to just let yourself be and seek comfort in Mark’s closeness. Would he have found it weird if you had buried your face in the crook of his neck? Should you have gone for his chest instead, using it as a pillow and a safe haven?

Why were you still hesitating when you knew he was convinced the two of you were meant to be? Why couldn’t you admit that none of these questions were about him? They were all about you. It was you who couldn’t decide whether hugging him more intimately would have made you feel creeped out. It was you who had a hard time accepting that the only thing you had to do was giving it a try and you could have been more.

So, so much more.

‘Man, do you need some water? Are you about to throw up?’

You had no idea what kind of face you were making, but you must have looked horrible or in pain. Otherwise, Mark wouldn’t have been thinking in such extremes, wouldn’t he?

You pressed your lips together and shook your head. Yet, he gently led you to the sink in the communal kitchen and got you a glass of cool, filtered water just to be sure.

The two of you stood in front of the sink in silence for God knew how long. The songs came and went, some more upbeat than others, some blending into the conversations around you. You kept your gaze on the half-empty glass in your hand, unsure and a tad insecure about too many things to keep count of.

‘Yuju and Dejun like each other,’ you blurted out at the most random moment, without any sign or warning in advance. If anyone had asked - if Mark had asked -, you would have put the blame on those shots you had drunk not that long ago, and a part of you actually believed there was some truth to your excuse. Being tipsy weakened your filters, so the words came out more easily.

Your thoughts were out in the open.

‘I think they will be official soon. Boyfriend and girlfriend,’ you added when your rambling was met with no verbal reaction, then took a forced gulp from your water because it started to feel a little embarrassing: the lack of response, the one-sided conversation.

‘Does it bother you?’ Mark asked eventually, slowly taking the empty glass out of your hand, so he could refill it for you.

‘No… Yes… No, but…’ You were struggling to find the correct words, maybe because your head was a mess, and you were trying to explain everything all at once when it wasn’t that simple. Your thoughts on the situation were complicated since this piece of information was still new to you. You had barely had time to comprehend, let alone accept the drastic change in your best friend and your ex’s relationship.

Mark’s fingers were cold and wet when they sneaked around your wrist and pulled your hand closer. The movement, sharp but gentle, pulled you back to the present.

‘If you still—’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

You didn’t let him finish, cutting him off a bit too loudly, which gained a couple of students’ attention for a brisk moment. Cheeks hot and scarlet red, you felt relieved when you realised that your sudden silence and the overall upbeat atmosphere of the ongoing party made them move on from the awkward situation quite quickly.

You willed your lungs to take in some of the suffocating air while you simultaneously mustered up your courage to place your palm on Mark’s chest to keep him still physically as well. You needed him to listen to everything you wanted to say, otherwise, there was a chance he might have misunderstood the mess in your head that you yourself also had to detangle real time, during your all-over-the-place monologue.

‘Yes, their relationship bothers me, but…’ you started, digging your fingers into Mark’s chest a bit firmer. You bit into your right cheek from the inside quite harshly as you were fighting against your growing frustration. ‘The fact that they are happy together? I know that I can get over that.’

Maybe, it would take a few days. Maybe, it would feel weird to see them together the first couple of times, especially if they held hands or cuddled in front of you, but you were pretty confident this development wouldn’t have hurt your relationship with either of them. And Mark seemed to believe you if his encouraging, almost proud smile was anything to go by.

You nodded to yourself, satisfied with where this conversation was going.

You could do it. In that moment, with alcohol coursing through your veins and Mark Lee smiling down at you like you were invincible, you truly believed that you could accomplish anything.

‘Their relationship bothers me because… Because!’ You were almost there, you could feel the words on the tip of your tongue. ‘They see a future together despite knowing they weren’t meant for each other and… And…’ You gulped, desperate eyes boring deep into Mark’s. ‘And I’m too afraid to be with you and see our tattoos remain the same.’

There it was. 

It hadn’t been that hard, had it?

(It had been.)

You didn’t realise how much energy it had taken you to confess until you were over it and the lack of stress left you with nothing. For a second, you felt numb. Then, your shoulders fell forwards and all you could feel was the tiredness in your bones.

It was a long night - despite the clock still one and a half hours away from midnight - with a lot of interactions you weren’t quite used to. Your social battery could only do so much after dealing with Yuju and now… even with your own feelings for your possible other half.

‘It’s okay. We don’t have to put a label on us until you like me enough to not care even if our marks remain the same,’ Mark reassured you, petting your head like you were some child, although you had to admit that it did feel nice. So you closed your eyes to be able to enjoy it more - with one sense being shut down, the others like touch were bound to get heightened, you supposed -, the goofy smile on your face a clear indication that you were more than just tipsy at that point. ‘Do you wanna go back to your room? I can get Haechan to buy us some ice cream or something,’ the boy offered, making you giggle for no goddamn reason. Still, it was funny, picturing him begging his friend to get you something sweet from 7-eleven when he must have been also partying somewhere in the building.

‘I have potato chips under the bed,’ you announced, willingly tailing Mark after he took your words as an okay sign and started to pull you towards the hallway.

Much to your surprise, the music remained just as overpowering until you reached the third or fourth room, however, Yuju and you lived at the end of the corridor, near the communal shower area, so it was all dandy. Once you were behind closed doors, the party turned into literal background noise.

‘So…’ Mark started, and on any other day, you might have been able to sense his uncertainty about how to act nonchalant in a room where it was only the two of you, but at that moment, all you could concentrate on was how good it felt: the relative silence after people screaming around you for hours while pretending to be singing.

You sat down on the edge of your bed and laid back with a relieved sigh. The mattress was so damn comfortable, you knew it wouldn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

And you might have just blacked out for a second after that thought had hit you, because the next thing you were aware of was a pair of calloused fingertips grazing along your temple. A feather-light weight on your entire body. Someone apologising for the jeans you would need to sleep in and then…

Then, a pair of pillowy lips, chapped and unexpectedly soft, touched the top of your head.

Albeit shocked, you didn’t find the power in you to re-open your eyes.

The next day, you woke up with a massive headache and a sore body that you wholeheartedly blamed on those jeans you were still wearing as though you hadn’t been completely yourself when you had gotten ready for bed.

You couldn’t recall much after Yuju had left you alone with Mark. At least, not until you fell back on your sheets and the phantom caress of two firm, hardworking fingers punched you in the guts.

Shit! You had fallen asleep while Mark had been still in your room. It had been his first time in your safe space and you had blacked out before you could have given him a tour or… Had he tried to talk to you? Had you managed to completely ignore his existence? Ahgrr. He must have felt so uncomfortable.

A mild panic attack started to brew in the pits of your stomach. Consequently, your carnal need to check up on the boy and confirm that nothing had changed between the two of you pushed the symptoms of your hangover in the back of your mind. Like you had never been in physical pain.

You jumped out of bed as quickly as if someone had set the whole furniture on fire. Your eyes were loitering over your interior rapidly, searching for your phone since you honest to God couldn’t have told where you had put it the previous night. Knowing yourself, it could have been anywhere from the back pocket of your jeans to the dusty floor under your desk, hence you proceeded with an open mind.

Just to find it on the pillow you hadn’t even used, plugged into your charger. The thoughtful sight dressed your cheeks in a light shade of coral pink.

Tentatively, you laid back on the sheets and took the slightly warm device in your hands. You used your fingerprint to unlock the phone, then opened your kakao app, because reading only the notifications would have been useless with the amount of unread messages you had.

Your thumb was hovering over the latest text you had received, Mark’s full name greeting you with a guitar and a nerd emoji next to it, but then your gaze fell on your chat with your best friend, and you decided to be more reasonable. Sure, the fact that she clearly wasn’t in your shared room despite her inability to reach you must have meant that she knew you were okay, but still… It was only fair you put her first.

It didn’t matter that you were more curious about those five messages Mark had apparently sent you. 

It also didn’t matter that the sole reason you hadn’t fallen back asleep was your eagerness to clear up any possible misunderstandings with the boy: like him interpreting your behaviour last night as if you couldn’t have cared less about him.

You cared so much about him.

(Too much, maybe. You just sucked at expressing it and were a coward who couldn’t admit these kinds of things even to herself.)

Your smile was brilliant when you skimmed through Yuju’s messages and noticed the visible change in her tone once she had gotten to know that albeit wasted, you were well taken care of. She said Mark had called her as soon as he had tucked you in - his words, not hers -, then reminded you of the first aid kit in her lowest drawer where you could find painkillers in case you were struggling. She also lectured you about drinking too much alcohol, but it was hard to take her words to heart when she wished you a happy new year and promised you to bring home some chicken trio pizza for dinner on her way home.

You sent her a selfie with your thumb up and reassured her that she didn’t have to rush. You could take care of yourself just fine - and you didn’t have any groundbreaking plans for the first day of the year anyway. To be honest, you doubted you would even leave the safety of your room for more than occasional toilet breaks.

Your lazy plans immediately got cancelled, though, when you opened Mark’s messages and saw that he had invited you out for a brunch slash lunch, depending on when you woke up or which one you were more up to.

You didn’t realise how ravenous you were until your eyes fell on the photo he had sent you of the sunny side ups that he had made for breakfast, offering to cook something simple for you in the communal kitchen in case you didn’t feel like going out. (And while you appreciated the thought and were genuinely tempted to spend the whole day on your bed with him, you couldn’t have helped but remember his friends’ teasing, which heavily indicated that he was a horrible cook.)

You asked for an hour to put yourself together and let him decide where you would eat until the restaurant wouldn’t be too crowded and the food wouldn’t be too heavy on your sensitive stomach. Your hangover was no joke. Just thinking of your favourite pizza, you already felt like throwing up again.

Had you even thrown up the previous night? For the life of you, you couldn’t tell.

But it didn’t really matter. Because the moment you stepped outside of your room, you came face to face with Mark Lee, and he gave you that look: the look that said he was happy to see you and might have even thought you were pretty despite the oversized hoodie and leggings combo you were wearing, hair in a messy bun on the top of your head. There was no way he felt grossed out by the sight of you even though he had been the last person who had seen you last night.

You gave him a small, almost bashful smile.

The diner Mark chose was a noodle soup shop near campus that you had never tried before, but you trusted his taste and did not get disappointed when the middle aged ahjumma placed two steaming bowls on your table in the back. The smell was rich, but not overpowering. The taste… The taste was heavenly.

‘Last night was pretty wild, hah? I usually don’t drink that much, by the way. You can take my words on that,’ you stirred up a conversation as soon as the boy’s eyes on each and every movement of yours started to get a tad overwhelming. Not in a bad way, of course. You rarely felt any negative emotions when you were with him; you considered thinking about the boy when he wasn’t around a completely different thing. And even then it was more about your insecurities and fears, never about something he did intentionally.

Gosh, here you were again, casually overthinking like it was your hobby.

‘Were you drinking because of me?’

You froze with your hand in mid-air, noodles slipping through your chopsticks as your grip got weaker due to your shock. The broth splashed on your face the moment they hit the soup, the hot liquid burning your skin a little, though that wasn’t the real reason your cheeks put on a light, pinkish shade.

You hadn’t seen it coming: the almost confrontational turn your conversation had just taken when it was Mark sitting in front of you. It would have been different if it had been Yuju or Mark’s talkative (and lowkey annoying nosy) friend, but… It was Mark!

You were lucky, you hadn’t choked on your meal.

‘I…’ You cleared your throat, unintentionally making the atmosphere heavier. You couldn’t look Mark in the eyes. ‘Maybe?’ You half-admitted as you placed the chopsticks on the edge of your bowl and dropped your hands in your lap with a helpless sigh. You didn’t want to lie. You also didn’t want to talk about your feelings without proper preparation, but clearly, your life wasn’t a wish-granting factory. ‘I also took some shots to celebrate the New Year.’

Mark’s amused giggle was yet another unexpected slap in the face. However, you welcomed it like a caress as it encouraged you to meet his eyes. His happiness didn’t help much with your confusion, but it warmed your heart, so you let it be.

‘Cute,’ he complimented you as soon as he calmed down, his gaze shifting from your scarlet cheeks to your abandoned, wooden cutlery. You knew he wanted to encourage you to pick the chopsticks up again, but you weren’t so sure whether that would have been a good idea. You weren’t in the clear just yet.

In fact, your conversation might have been just about to get tougher if his mischievous eyes were anything to go by.

‘I’m not sure how much you remember from last night, but I understand your feelings. It’s scary for me, too,’ he said with enough nonchalance to make you wonder whether he was panicking under the collected facade. The Mark you knew would have rather let his friends bully him (affectionately) than engage in a fight. He had never been this confrontational, and you weren’t sure how you felt about this development.

Unsure whether he was finished or there was still stuff he wanted to bring up, you remained silent and mentally scolded yourself for even thinking about picking on the skin around the base of your nails.

‘I want, more than anything, to test if you’re it for me, but that’s not why I wanted to meet up with you,’ he eventually blurted out before he took a big mouthful of his noodles, probably to steal a bit more time. You waited, patiently. ‘Please don’t push me away. You don’t have to like me like that. You don’t have to agree to become my girlfriend like ever, man. But please, don’t avoid me.’

His pleading broke something in you, not because of how desperately he was talking or how he felt the need to have this request, but because this had been what you had tried to do the night before, when Yuju had pointed him out in the crowd.

He knew you. He knew your instincts were working against you two, and he was begging you to stay.

To choose him, in whichever way your heart was able to handle your relationship.

‘I’m not gonna do any of those, I promise,’ you mumbled, hoping that you could keep your promise to him, because he was being so tolerant, so patient with you, it was the least you could do.

Just like Dejun, Mark deserved so much better.

But unlike your ex-boyfriend, his presence in your life felt so effortless, so good, a part of you could almost believe that the two of you were…

You bit into your lower lip and shook your head. This wasn’t right. You shouldn’t have given him a chance because of a system that had already screwed you over. Because a sick part of your brain rationalised that the universe knew you better than you knew yourself.

‘I want to give us a try,’ you admitted slowly, choosing your words with utmost care as if one wrongly chosen synonym could have broken your friendship. Like you were still working on one of your most draining assignments for a professor that took points from you for using the same word in two consecutive sentences. ‘But I have one condition.’

Mark didn’t take his eyes off you. He wasn’t blinking, and you weren’t sure he was breathing properly, either, but his complexion looked convincing enough for you to keep going instead of stalling and checking up on him.

‘I don’t want to be your girlfriend.’ The pained look in Mark’s eyes squeezed your organs, and if you had felt a bit more poetic, you would have said, it twisted the knife in your heart, too. So you willed yourself to push through. ‘What I mean is that… I want what Dejun and Yuju have. And since we don’t know whether we are meant to be like how they already know they aren’t… I…’ you were clearly struggling at that point, but you were almost there.

You almost detangled the mess in your own head.

You almost managed to communicate your concerns.

You only needed a little bit more.

‘You want to be with me regardless?’ Mark asked, sounding hopeful and something else, too, something akin to melted butter on your toast.

You nodded, embarrassingly eager to get to the end of this topic and finally be on the same page as the boy.

‘If we don’t agree on being boyfriend-girlfriend, our tattoos won’t change. They’re not gonna spoil it,’ you argued, feeling significantly lighter after the last word fell from your lips, your smile bright and a lot wider than it had been at any moment in the past few days.

And the best part?

Mark Lee was shining like the damned Sun and all the stars in the sky upon hearing your confession. 

‘I can do that! Let’s do that! I want that, to have a chance with you, be with you. Because it does feel right. You. Us. You make me feel all gooey and boom boom inside. You make me feel like all those cringey love songs that secretly everyone likes,’ he rambled, awakening half a dozen long-dead butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

You wondered if this was how falling in love should have felt in the first place. Weren’t you only giving him a chance to see where this would lead the two of you? Were you really, truly, genuinely falling for him already?

Were you in love?

As good as you were with words in most cases, Mark’s rambling quite literally rendered you speechless. You didn’t know what more you were supposed to say without revealing your inner turmoil. After all, you had already admitted that you wanted to give it a try.

If you had been one of your characters, you would have described what you were about to do as cowardly, but at that moment it sounded rather logical (and definitely convenient) to just pick up your chopsticks and dive into your noodle soup. So that was what you did, keeping your eyes on your food while blaming your flaming cheeks on your hot lunch.

You didn’t entertain the topic more than it was strictly necessary, and you didn’t bring it up again when Mark took pity on you and decided to ask about something completely different yet maybe just as important: your plans for after your graduation ceremony next week.

Sadly, you were still struggling with finding a full-time job, but your parents were happy to have you back at home, so at least, you didn’t have to worry about housing or wasting money. You would be fed three times a day for free and have all the time in the world to find out how desperate you were to find a job in your field a.k.a. how much longer you could go without giving in and just taking the first offer that came your way.

‘I don’t want to lower my standards just yet. Maybe… after a month or two,’ you pondered aloud, then took a bigger slurp of your soup just before you asked for Mark’s opinion.

You didn’t call your lunch a date, nor did Mark ask you out on one when he suggested you watched a movie in the cinema on Saturday, but he did walk you all the way back to your door once he paid for the food and held onto your clammy hand during the second half of the elevator ride.

Hence, you assumed you were official. In your own, cautious albeit determined way.

the end.

[moonsbijoutoo]

am i going to write a Kenhina, Kurotsuki, Oikage fic that is the question

[twpsyn-who]

Soulmates AU in which when your soulmate is in a situation that can result in their death you get to see through their eyes. Like, I don't know how to explain this- it kind of flashes between what you see and what your soulmate sees. You know those edits where there's a scene going on and there's another one faded in the background happening at the same time? Similar to that. The idea is that you get to see what your soulmate sees too, on top of what you're seeing.

Now, this AU but JeanMarco. With Marco asking the others where's Jean, just for him to start seeing a corpse right in front of his eyes not even a second after asking. Seeing through Jean's eyes as he's trying to get hold of that gear and stuff. And once Jean's safe, once it clicks that you know his best friend is his soulmate Marco can't wait for them to graduate so he can you know tell him that.

Then, you know. That happens. And Jean is so fucking confused because he keeps seeing Annie crying, looking down on him. Only when Annie starts getting off the gear, when his soulmate starts moving around trying to get away he starts panicking, starts moving around faster than before. And maybe he's too late. Or maybe he shows up in time and kills the titan. I don't know. That's not where I'm trying to get, but to the second option AKA Marco pulling an UNO reverse on Annie because he's a smart sneaky bastard like that and being like 'Hey you can't kill me, my soulmate will know it was you' which makes her stop trying to take off his gear. Reiner keeps telling her to do it, Bertholdt keeps yelling about that titan coming closer, but Annie... she has seen things, at some point. Flashes of moments that weren't hers, happening right in Trost- right in that moment. And she didn't give them too much thought until that moment, until it got confirmed that it has nothing to do with her titan powers.

'What do you mean by that?' she asks, because she needs to know more. Because she wants to know more. And Marco starts explaining how it works. Tells them that he has found his soulmate, that they will put all the blame on them for his death. Reiner doesn't believe him, keeps insisting that he's playing them around - he, and anyone born and raised on Marley, has never heard of something like that before, it doesn't exist - but Annie tells him to shut up and to let Marco go. Cue to the plot of any fic in which Marco doesn't straight up die after finding up their secret.

Anyway I don't know man, just,,, We need more soulmate aus for JeanMarco. That's an order.

[astonmartinii]

home ties | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem bff!reader

got a home race curse? that's no match for the power of friendship

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 31,498 others

tagged: yourbestfriend

yourusername: today i start my pilgrimage across europe - i.e. i'm a 20 something who is inter railing to try and 'find herself' BUT i shall be stopping at any church i can find, bestie @charles_leclerc we're getting that home win this season

view all comments

user1: INTER RAILING? BUT BUT BUT WHAT ABOUT CHARLES?

user2: this better be a SHORT trip because i need her in the ferrari garage this season

charles_leclerc: don't have too much fun without me :(

yourusername: iMPOSSIBLE

charles_leclerc: good i hope you miss me everyday

yourusername: like a wife waiting for her husband to come home from the war

charles_leclerc: why am i not the wife?

yourusername: i mean you're the one going here, there and everywhere

charles_leclerc: but i'm the pretty one?

yourusername: die ❤️

charles_leclerc: do you or do you not have a picture of me in your locket?

yourusername: do you or do you not want me to lay offerings for wins this season?

charles_leclerc: noted.

user3: these fools are so dear to me

user4: i know we need positive male and female friendship representation but like god i need them to fall in love

pierregasly: so fuck me then?

yourusername: is your name charles leclerc?

pierregasly: i have known you just as long as charles

yourusername: so has max and este you don't see them bitching up a storm in this comment section

maxverstappen1: i mean i just about to but ummmmmm have fun travelling!

estebanocon: i am very secure in our friendship.... some people not so much

pierregasly: i will spit in your coffee

estebanocon: it's already on the top shelf, good luck goblin!

yourusername: okay............ but thanks max!

user5: i love how most of this grid grew up together - not because it's cute but because they're all rude to each other

user6: they'll cry over each other's wins but won't follow each other on instagram

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 1,207,683 others

charles_leclerc: an okay start to the season. get well soon carlos!

view all comments

user8: @yourusername i know you're on your travels but you really need to get your ass back in the garage

charles_leclerc: trying real hard not to blame her rn

yourusername: skill issue

charles_leclerc: HOW DARE YOU

yourusername: if you need me to perform, then babe that's on you

charles_leclerc: is it really a crime to want my best friend with me at races

yourusername: did you not include my letters to you in your very instagram dump

charles_leclerc: but those are just letters :(

yourusername: just letters? i see. i guess i won't send any more

charles_leclerc: NO I'M SORRY PLEASE KEEP SENDING THEM

user9: i'm so sorry but this is too cute to not be romantic

user10: i know platonic soulmates exist but damn they're making it real hard to not believe they're in love

user11: they're either in love or charles is a puppy with severe separation anxiety

pierregasly: have you considered that he could be both

user12: HUH?

yourusername: regardless .... i'm proud of you doofus

charles_leclerc: thank you pookie

carlossainz55: do i not get a get well soon? anything?

yourusername: i'm glad you didn't die?

carlossainz55: i guess i'll take it

user13: y/n is unapologetically a hater

yourusername: no i'm just a charles stan first and foremost

user14: as you should

yourusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 39,412 others

tagged: yourbestie

yourusername: yeah i'm here in the middle of a random forest eating hard pasta but charles was back on the podium so more candles and offerings coming your way

view all comments

yourbestie: do we have to stop in every church?

yourusername: YES

user15: i need someone as passionate about me in my life

yourusername: i am COmMITTED TO THE CAUSE

yourbestie: too committed i'm tired

yourusername: sit back and enjoy the stain glass windows let me do the work

user16: i feel like i'm having charlesxy/n withdrawals already

charles_leclerc: me too

user17: instagram live? twich? TWITTER SPACES? i'll do anything

yourusername: babe i'm in the middle of the forest

charles_leclerc: i thought you'd make it work for me but i see how it is

yourusername: stop i will cry and run home

yourbestie: ?

charles_leclerc: i'm sorry, enjoy your travels i just miss you

yourusername: i miss you too :(

yourbestie: gross

maxverstappen1: so like how do we go about getting you light candles for us?

pierregasly: good luck bro

yourusername: first of all, ew. second of all, no. third of all, YOU DON'T NEED THE HELP

maxverstappen1: okay damn tough crowd

charles_leclerc: you've not got the leclerc charm buddy

maxverstappen1: i've seen the 2012 haircut clearly charm was needed

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 1,409,562 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: look who's backkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

view all comments

user20: phew i thought he was gonna die from separation anxiety for a second there

maxverstappen1: he's just dramatic

yourusername: so you don't want the souvenir i got you

maxverstappen1: I DO I DO I DO

yourusername: you know what you have to do

maxverstappen1: ugh. i'm sorry charles, your weird need to be with y/n at all times is kind of cute (if you weren't 26 years old already)

user21: the fact he's so pumped for her to be back - fave duo ever

user22: not to be that one freak but the last picture is looking very girlfriend to me

user23: you make a good point but i don't wanna get my hopes up just yet

user24: was his separation anxiety not enough? i feel like there's no way he could be in another relationship when he wants to be with her so often

yourusername: i'm glad to be back - the wilderness was lovely but nothing compares to you

charles_leclerc: teehee

yourusername: and i get to be reunited with my favourite gal pascale and light votives together

charles_leclerc: my lucky charms for real

pierregasly: i mean only one person has been there for each of your wins in f1 just saying

yourusername: so i'm sorry pierre i'm SORRY THAT MY APPENDIX NEEDED TO COME OUT

yourusername: but i do believe it contributed to the win

charles_leclerc: it did cause i raced so fast so i could get to your side quicker

yourusername: awwww a real gentleman (take notes pierre)

user25: how can they not be in love ^^^ LOOK AT THE MATERIAL PEOPLE

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 59,304 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: this is the set up for monaco week

view all comments

user28: babe is taking up residency in saint devote that's crazy

user29: idk what she's doing but the moon was red ... is she really going to manifest the home win

yourusername: if i can, yes! but if he does win it's all charlie and his talent

user30: ugh you guys are so cute

charles_leclerc: having you back and racing in monaco? best week ever

yourusername: it will be

pierregasly: once again no good lucks for us

maxverstappen1: i'm really starting to think our childhood meant nothing to you

yourusername: booooo the home town hero is obviously the one i'm supporting

maxverstappen1: you told me to "choke on your cock" when i asked if you would watch from my garage in zandvoort

yourusername: welllllllllll

pierregasly: just admit you have a favourite

yourusername; fine, charlie is my favourite

charles_leclerc: :)))))

pierregasly: :((((

yourusername: you asked me to???

user31: i don't know who will be happier if charles wins monaco charles or y/n?

charles_leclerc: i know who would cry more

yourusername: i'm a big crier and proud

alexalbon: not you guys coming for my albon_pets brand

yourusername: don't pit the kids against each other

charles_leclerc: let us be dog parents in peace alex

user32: so like that's their dog.... they're together?

user33: they're so confusing

user34: i mean it's so obvious they're in love so a dog really isn't that crazy

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, joris_trouche and 3,874,099 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: monaco finally loves me back (and so does she)

view all comments

user35: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

user36: i am NOT okay

yourusername: so unbelievably proud of you charlie, you deserve this more than anyone and you've made everyone proud ❤️ 🤍

charles_leclerc: thank you my love xx you've always believed in me and i'm so glad i could share this moment with you

yourusername: you're the love of my life and i would do anything for you

charles_leclerc: you already have <3

yourusername: i would light every votive i can find again if it brings you joy like this again

charles_leclerc: you bring me all of my joy

user37: they're so cute your honour

user38: lowkey forgot that they confirmed their relationship because the win was simply hitting too hard

user39: it's hitting like crack and it will be the only thing i talk about for the rest of my life

pierregasly: congratulations calmar!! i knew you could do it and i'm very happy for you both xx

charles_leclerc: thanks brother, you next

yourusername: we love you pear !!

maxverstappen1: I KNEW IT

charles_leclerc: that i would win my home race?

maxverstappen1: yeah, yeah... congrats but I KNEW YOU FOOLS WERE IN LOVE

yourusername: yeah you and about a million other people, we weren't that secretive

maxverstappen1: let me have this one thing

user40: yeah this is the worst kept secret in the world

yourusername: sorry guys but have you seen my boyf, there's no way i wouldn't be showing that off

charles_leclerc: HAVE YOU SEEN MY GIRLFRIEND???

yourusername: awwwww i love you

charles_leclerc: and i love you too

fin.

note: here's a small one to celebrate charles finally winning his home race, i won't lie i did cry. idk it's when he brought up his dad it just started the waterworks but i'm so proud of my lil millionaire racer guy :)))

[luxaofhesperides]

Final hour Ghostlights request! Soulmate AU where when your soul mate dies your soul mark expands. Duke was really heartbroken at first but now his soul mark makes it really difficult to keep his secret identity hidden because he is covered in a map of the cosmos. He has to use his shadow powers almost constantly to keep all the stars hidden! And and maybe they light up like actual stars when he uses his light powers.

He meets Danny at orientation or something at GU and they brush against each other and he just lights up like a supernova, all his stars literally blazing and he's just like "YOU!" Both excited and also OH MY GOD YOU ASSHOLE.

....I rambled a bit here I'm so sorry.

The thing about soulmates is that you don’t really know who they are until they die. And even then, most people never know who their soulmate was, only that they outlived them.

Duke became one of those people when he was thirteen. 

He didn’t even notice until he went to change and saw the watercolor swirl of nebula spill out from over his heart. 

One moment, he was tired and angry, ready to sneak out of his latest foster home to search for his parents and do all the things adults have failed to do. The next, he’s collapsed on his knees, shaking, unable to breathe as he tries to rip his soulmark off of his skin. He couldn’t think past the shock and horror of realizing that his soulmate is dead and Duke didn’t even know until that moment. 

They’ll never get to meet. 

Duke had never felt so alone before. 

He spent the next few days in shock, his mind a mess of static, unable to focus. He hid away in his room, buried under the covers, and his foster parents were understanding when he whispered my soulmate’s dead. They called him out of school and brought him food and water throughout the day, gentle encouraging him to eat something every few hours. 

But disaster waits for no one, and Batman was gone, so Duke pulled himself out of his misery and hit the streets again. 

So his soulmate’s dead. So his parents are gone. So Gotham’s falling apart.

No one’s doing anything about it, so it’s up to Duke to start fixing things. It’s not like he had much to lose.

Soulmates become a bit of a taboo topic to him, after that. He speaks of them to no one, avoids all conversation about them, refuses to stay when people talk about soulmarks. He tries not to look at his soulmark at all.

And then he takes a hit to the chest and patches himself up with shaking hands. For the first time in months he looks at his soulmark again and…

Did it… grow? 

Duke prods it gently, letting out a hiss when his bruised ribs protest at the movement. He remembers the mark being right over his heart. 

But looking at it now, it branches out, swirls of galaxy and constellations reaching out along his ribcage. 

Panicked, Duke grabs for his computer and looks up soulmark growth and webmd soulmark abnormalities.

Neither give him any answers, though WebMD helpfully suggests skin cancer. 

“I’m gonna ignore this,” Duke decides, and pulls on a shirt and goes to sleep. The less he thinks about his dead soulmate, the better. 

Time passes and Duke goes from being a Robin to being the Signal, a legitimate vigilante working with Batman. It’s nice to see Gotham start to settle, things falling into place. For once, nothing is awful; Duke’s found his parents and doctors are looking for a cure for long-term exposure to Joker Gas, Batman’s taking care of Gotham with a number of other Bats, Duke is getting used to his powers and slowly making a good name for himself out on the streets. 

He keeps his focus on protecting people and getting stronger, helping solve cases with the other Bats. No one mentions soulmates, so he keeps his ever expanding soulmark a secret. 

The only problem is that it keeps growing and Duke is concerned that it’ll move to a place he can’t easily hide under his clothes. 

And he does need to hide them. The more his soulmark has grown, the more obvious it is, especially when he uses his powers and the stars on his skin light up like the Fourth of July. He knows it’s abnormal, but it’s also his soulmark and he doesn’t want anyone, least of all Bruce, poking around trying to study it. 

The grief still lingers when he looks at it, but Duke has long since grown used to it. If anything, these days he’s quietly annoyed by how far the galaxies on his skin spread out, forcing him to take tank tops and shorts out of his wardrobe. 

There’s also the tentative hope that maybe his soulmate is immortal and keeps coming back to life after they die. And they must also have terrible luck, because they just keep on dying.

Case in point: his soulmark flares and spills out onto his shoulder and wraps around his bicep. It’s not the first time he’s seen it move, but it still startles him.

“Are you serious,” Duke mutters to himself, pulling at his sleeve to adjust it and hopefully hide his soulmark. The starts are bright against his skin, and while sometimes he likes to trace them with his finger, now is not one of those times.

As pretty as it is, his soulmark is also very obvious and will cause people to realize his identity if they ever catch a glimpse of it while he’s out as Signal. 

He sighs. There’s no choice but to live out the rest of his life in hoodies and sweatshirts. 

As if to spite him, his soulmark grows once more. 

Did his soulmate just die twice in the span of five minutes? That’s concerning. 

He wishes he could meet them just so he can shake some sense into them. Maybe tell them to stop dying since it’s stressing him out so much. Maybe stick by their side to make sure they never have to die again. He’s honestly not sure what he’d do if he ever meets his soulmate, but he has to do something. This has gotten out of hand.

At least seeing his soulmark grow doesn’t hurt as much as it did a few years ago. 

Lazily, he pulls at the light around him to hide the new portions of the soulmark on his arm from sight. It takes some focus, but he can hold it up long enough for him to grab a snack from the kitchen and retreat up to his room without being questioned by anyone. He could probably even keep this shirt on for the college orientation he needs to attend later in the day if the light works well enough to keep his secrets hidden. 

He’s expecting Alfred in the kitchen when he arrives, but is greeted by Dick clapping a hand on his shoulder, right where his soulmark has claimed space. Duke falters and works to keep the light from fracturing as he returns Dick’s grin. 

“Hey man,” he says, “What are you doing here? I thought you were out until Friday.”

“And miss a chance to hang out with you? No way. Besides, I wanted to give you a ride to your orientation.”

“You don’t have to,” Duke starts, only for Dick to cut him off.

“I’m going to,” he says, as if it’s a threat. “It’s been too long since we get to spend time together without a mask on. Are you really going to deprive me of this?”

Duke shakes off Dick’s hand from his shoulder, walking towards the pantry to find a small snack. “I guess not. It’s going to be pretty boring for you, though. I’m just going to listen to people talk about what college is like for a few hours.”

“We could always just walk around campus afterwards. I haven’t seen it since it was rebuilt after the last time Freeze attacked it.”

“Sure, that sounds fun. Thanks for offering to drive me.” Duke pulls out a box of Poptarts hidden behind stacks of pasta boxes and pulls out a pack for himself. He opens it and isn’t at all surprised when Dick steals one right out of his hands. 

“Meet me out front in an hour then.” 

And with that, Dick leaves, his stolen Poptart in hand, and Duke is left to shake his head and shove the Poptart box back into its hiding place. He heads off to eat his own snack, making sure no one is in the hallway as he lets go of his hold on the light. Already he can feel a migraine building with the immense focus he had to use to make sure nothing looked out of place.

At least Dick didn’t notice anything was off. If he can fool Dick, he can fool anyone.

Still, just to be safe, Duke changes into something with longer sleeves before he leaves and hops into the car with Dick. 

The drive goes quickly to the tunes of ABBA, both of them singing along as they head for the GCU campus. Parking is a bit tricky, but they manage to find a spot a street away and walk towards the student union, where tables are laid out for incoming freshmen to sign in and grab a folder filled with papers meant to help them. 

He waves to Dick and heads in once he gets his folder, and grabs a seat in the auditorium that’s close to a fire exit. 

It takes another twenty minutes for the presentations to start. The lights dim and Duke panics for a brief moment before drawing the shadows over himself lightly to hide the soft glow of the star etched onto his skin. 

They start with introductions, bringing in advisors, professors, and student ambassadors. Most of it is basic information that Duke already knows, so he zones out and plays with some shadows at his feet, where no one can see the way he twists shadows together like some dark magic form of finger knitting.

For the next hour, Duke halfheartedly listens to people talk about preparing for classes and keeping on top of schoolwork and learning how to ask for help. He’s saved enough college students that he knows the gist of things, and the orientation really doesn’t give him anything helpful. 

He probably could have skipped, but he wanted a normal college experience. 

He should have known that normal means boring as hell.

As soon as the presentation ends, an advisor encourages everyone to follow the schedule tucked into their folder to give them a half day modeled after a typical student’s schedule. Of course, all the classes are nonsense just to fill up their time, made to help freshmen coming into the college by covering topics such as how to write an email and an introduction to majors and minors.

Duke already declared himself as a Human Services major, his first step into becoming a social worker like his mom was. 

Also he totally knows how to write an email, what are these advisors on about? Do they really think people his age can’t write emails? 

Yeah, he’s ditching. The main presentation is really the only part that matters in the orientation. He’s not walking out on anything he needs.

Duke files out after the rest of the crowd, carefully letting the shadows slip off of him once he’s outside again. Instead of finding the first ‘class’ he’s supposed to go to in the Modern Languages building, he wanders off to find a quiet place he can sit down and wait until Dick finds him. 

Tucked away towards the back half of the campus is a small nook full of trees, bushes, and benches. Judging by the amount of cigarette butts left in the single trash can there, it’s a popular smoking spot. 

No one’s there, so the air is clean and free of smoke, so Duke heads in, hoping to sit down.

Someone else apparently has the same idea. He hops down from one of the concrete planters that’s keeping a bush contained and nearly falls on Duke.

They both shout in surprise, then Duke is moving without thinking, reaching out to steady the startled looking guy who accidentally jumped down in front of him. 

Duke only has time to take note of how blue his eyes are before his hands wrap around the guy’s wrist and Duke feels his soulmark flare with warmth.

In the shade of the trees, the glow of each star on his skin is obvious. It’s visible even through the fabric of his shirt. His soulmark, at this point in his life, stretches across his chest, his ribs, his back, and now his shoulders and upper arms. All the stars in that watercolor galaxy are shining brightly as if the night sky has been draped across his body.

Soulmarks only react like that for one reason.

“You!” Duke shouts at his soulmate, both elated to see that he’s alive and annoyed that he made Duke’s soulmark so large. “Stop dying! Do you have any idea how much stress you’ve caused me?!”

“Oh my god,” the guy says faintly, eyes fixed on Duke’s chest where his soulmark originally rested, shining brighter and bigger than any other star, as if he’s tucked a sun into his heart. “Oh my god,” he says again, with more feeling.

“I’m so happy you’re alive, but please stop dying. It’s bad for my health.”

“I think I need to sit down?”

He does look very pale and faint. Duke tightens his grip on his soulmate’s arms and guides him to a bench, gently sitting him down.

“You’re not about to die, right?” Duke asks. “I don’t think my heart could take it if meeting me killed you somehow.”

“No, no,” his soulmate manages to say, “I’m not going to die. Um. Wow. I didn’t know my soulmark would do that? Sorry.”

“Well, it’s not like you had any way of knowing. It’s all good, man. Just please stop dying.”

His soulmate winces. “Yeah, that’s not gonna be possible. Sorry. Again.”

What does that mean, though? What does it all mean?

“Can I maybe get an explanation as to why you have to die again.”

“Mmmmm no. We just met and it’s kinda personal so. No.”

“Dude.”

Duke’s soulmate shrugs helplessly. “It really is personal! I know your my soulmate and all, so I’ll probably tell you one day, but right now I don’t even know your name.”

Oh shit. He’s right. Introductions completely slipped his mind, too busy reeling over the fact that his soulmate is here and alive. Which, honestly, would be enough to throw anyone off balance.

“Shoot,” Duke says. “Sorry. You just really caught me off guard. Hi, I’m Duke, I promise I’m more put together than that.”

“Hi Duke, I’m Danny, and I’ve apparently been traumatizing you for the past few years by making you think I keep dying.”

“Well. At least we’re thrown head first into the crazy. Best way to know if we’re be a good match.”

“You sure you can handle this? You seemed pretty frazzled a second ago.”

Duke flusters and lightly whacks Danny’s shoulder. “That’s normal! Anyone would do the same when meeting their soulmate for the first time!”

“Fair enough,” Danny laughs. “This is a totally weird request and you can absolutely say no, but… can I see?” He presses a hand against one of the glowing stars beneath this collar bone, looking up at Duke with wide, hopeful blue eyes, and Duke finds it so cute that he’s willing to do anything Danny wants. 

“Here,” he says as an answer, pulling the collar of his shirt down a bit to reveal the nebula spilling onto his shoulder. 

“Oh,” Danny breathes, tracing a light finger against it. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m guessing you like space?”

“Love it. I wanted to be an astronaut, but uh…. It’s never going to happen. Health problems, you know?”

“Well, I know it’s not the same, but I hope the stars you put on my body will be a good enough replacement.”

Danny cheeks turn red and he turns away, flustered. “Don’t smooth talk me right now, I’m not ready for it,” he mutters, bringing up a hand to try to hide his expression. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Duke laughs, “I’ll try to keep the flirting down to a minimum. It’s just really great to finally meet you. And I’ve been wondering, what’s your soulmark look like?”

“Oh, well…” Danny fiddles with the long sleeve of his shirt. “I had a pretty bad accident years ago that kinda affected how my soulmark looks. So if it looks weird, that’s why, okay?” He takes a deep breath, then pushes up his sleeve, holding his wrist out to Duke. 

The first thing Duke notices is the soft yellow glow, Signal yellow to be precise, running down his arm as if sunlight fills his veins. Then he sees Danny’s soulmark, a sun with rays that wrap around his wrist. And running through his soulmark are Lichtenberg scars, glowing yellow as if stealing the color from his soulmark. 

“Guess we both got super obvious soulmarks, huh? At least we kinda match, that way.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Danny agrees. 

“Man, what a day.” 

Danny looks more relaxed with him now. It’s much better than the startled, tense version of him that first sat down on the bench. Duke hopes he chooses to stay with him; he doesn’t admit this often, willingly, or to other people, but he’s a romantic at heart and has always wanted to live a happy life with his soulmate. It’s still far off in the future, but he hopes Danny feels the same way.

“So, are you ditching the orientation classes to?” Danny asks.

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m going. I mean, a class on how to send emails? They can’t be serious.”

“I know, right?! I saw that and thought I was being pranked. I mean, we’re going into college. We better know how to send an email by now.”

“Since we’re both free for now, wanna grab lunch with me? It can be our first date, if you want.”

“I’d love to! And you can show me around Gotham a bit. I’m coming here for college, but I haven’t really seen the city yet. It’d be nice to explore it with someone who knows where things are.”

“Are you free for the rest of the day? ‘Cause I wouldn’t mind showing you around, if you want.”

Danny smiles, radiant. “I am. I’m in your hands for the rest of the day.”

“Cool,” Duke says, trying not to think too much on that wording. It’s very suggestive, very flirtatious, and he’s looking forward to getting to know Danny more so he can start properly flirting. “Lemme just let my brother know to not wait up for me.”

He pulls out his phone and sends Dick a text that just reads: met my soulmate. going on a date now. i’ll see u back at the manor!

Then he puts his phone on silent and tucks it back into his pocket. He’ll tell Dick all about this later; for now, all his attention is on Danny. 

Soulmates get priority, even stressful ones that give him the largest soulmark he’s ever seen. 

And right now, he’s on a mission to find the best lunch spot to take his soulmate to for their first date. Everything else can come later; for now, he’s going to enjoy the time he gets to spend with Danny.

He hopes they’ve got a future together as bright as the stars in his soulmark. 

Despite it all, Duke is sure they’re going to be alright.

[sagaduwyrm]

DCxDP Idea - Tucker x Tim Soulmate AU:

Now on AO3

So the Justice League believes the Fentons and the GIW. Not completely, but enough. That’s the bad news. The worse news is that they have Danny, and are apparently planning to use him in some kind of spell to banish all the ghosts from the living plane. Which, okay, sure, not the worst idea, except that trying to banish a Liminal is a great way to kill them instead, and guess what everyone in Amity Park is? Not to mention what powering such a ritual could do to Danny.

Tucker is not having a panic attack. He might have one later, but right now he has a job to do.

So the thing about the Justice League is that they’re powerful and together they cover each other’s weaknesses, but individually they are, if not manageable, then at least survivable. They can’t take on the entire league, but Ghosts and their ilk have fangs for a reason, and every predator knows how to divide and conquer.

Technus and Skulker are using Lex Luthor’s tech to deal with the Supers. Jazz has got emotional manipulation and FrightKnight’s sword to take down the Flashes. Desiree agreed to start a mage’s duel with the Justice League Dark. Sam, Ember, Johnny, and Kitty hopefully have the watchtower in hand, with Walker playing backup to get Danny free.

Tucker has two jobs. One, work with Technus to take down the Justice League communications without making it look like anything is up. Two, for the love of the Ancients, do not let the Bats realize something is wrong.

And you know what? He’s got this. Duul Aman was the most feared sorcerer of his time. Tucker isn’t him, not really, but he’s no slouch in the magic department. Egyptian magic, the way Duul Aman knew it, was almost like code. Relearning it was as easy as breathing, but the real reason Tucker’s job is to deal with the bats is because he took it further than his last life ever could. Sure, he’s a dab hand at illusions, his curses are almost as nasty as Sam’s, and instant sandstorms are never not useful, but where he really thrives is with tech. Afterall, if ectoplasm can be combined with computers, why can’t magic?

Tucker is the world's first technomage and he’s goddamn proud of it.

It’s his saving grace now. Infiltrating Oracle’s system took weeks, and he still wasn’t able to look at or do anything important, but it was enough of an opening for his magic. He wormed his illusion through every single piece of bat-tech he could reach, whispering in their ear, Gotham needs you. The Justice League is fine. Gotham is where the problems are. 

Weeks of work and sleepless nights, and he still doubts he’ll be able to keep them from noticing anything for more than a few hours. Luckily, by that time Danny will be free and Tucker will be long gone from Gotham.

This confidence lasts until he brushes hands with another guy in the cafe. He can feel the bond snap into place, a soulmark crawling across his body. Tim Drake stares at him, eyes wide but sharp. 

Tim Drake.

Red Robin.

Shit.

Time to see whether fighting ghosts extends to fighting humans, because he is not letting this asshole mess up Danny’s rescue.

+++

The first thing Tim notices when he meets his soulmate is the rage in the man’s eyes.

They’re really pretty eyes. A bright, glowing gold, lined in kohl. Almost certainly a sign of magic. 

They look at him like the man wants to turn him inside out and burn the remains. Tim’s a little offended, beneath the shock and awe.

“Fuck,” the man hisses. Tim’s offense is starting to supersede his surprise. He’s a catch, thank you very much.

He says as much. The man laughs, and it’s almost friendly.  The cafe is empty. The people of Gotham have good instincts, and there’s something in the air around this man that puts Tim’s hackles up.

“You know, I think that’d be more believable if you hadn’t started this.”

Tim’s brow wrinkled. He felt like he’d remember starting something with his soulmate though? What was he supposed to have started, anyway? Saying ‘this’ wasn’t very specific. 

He rolled and dodged to avoid the sudden lash of golden sand. Ah. A fight. He could do that. Figure out why his soulmate was angry later, defeat him now.

He reached up to call for backup and only got static.

Shit.

He was on his own. Time to show this bastard why underestimating a bat was a bad idea.

[rageserenity]

It's 2024. Are you still thinking about movieverse!Cherik? Because I am.

For the past several months, there's only been a very slow trickle of posts/fics in the xmcu cherik tag. Let's try to breathe some life back into this incredible pairing!

With one clear winner of my poll, here's thirty prompts for the thirty days of April. (This is a super chill, laid-back event---do these in any order, interpret them as loosely as you like! Create in any medium! Fic, art, gifs, meta, incoherent screaming about the otp…all winners in my book.)

The only rule here is to cherik too close to the sun. Alright. Here are the prompts.

Mutual Pining

Doesn't really even need elaboration! Write that horrifically slow slow-burn. Gif every time McAvoy made insane fuck me eyes on screen. Make a playlist of songs about impossible love.

2. Alternate Meetings

There are endless quotes about how these two complete each other in a way no one they'd met before or after ever did. How else could they have met?

3. Erik Has A Telepathy Kink

This is basically canon. Let my boy get freaky!

4. Canon Fix-It

All the times Fox fucked it up. There are endless options.

5. Hurt/Comfort

Put them in that Situation. Put them in that Blender. Break them apart and put them back together ❤️‍🩹

6. Canon Compliant

Draw that missing scene! Gif your favourite cherik moment!

7. Beach Divorce

Make it worse. Make it better. Show it to us exactly how it was. Break it down in a 3,000 word meta. Go wild!

8. Domestics

Sometimes you just want to see them doing normal couple things. Erik put the gun down.

9. Found Family

The real heart of x-men!

10. Time Travel

There are SO many possibilities here. Stick them in a time loop. Give them a chance to change their past.

11. AU

Love a good AU!

12. There Is Only One Bed

Had to get this one in here. What better way to amp up the tension?

13. Genosha

By some miracle, cherik actually did end up together at the end of 2019s trash bag disaster Dark Phoenix. We aren’t making a big enough deal about this.

14. Declaration(s) of Love

Who says it first? How do they say it and when? Have they said it…without saying it?

15. Jealousy

Need I say more.

16. Reunion

These two have absolutely no chill.

17. Soulmates

Classic prompt, had to get this in here too.

18. The DOFP Aircraft

The TENSION here. Break it down for me. How does Charles feel about his injury? How does Erik feel about his injury?

19. Gay Mutant Road Trip

You already know.

20. Body Swap

SO fun when people have superpowers.

21. First Kiss

When? How? Who initiated it?

22. The Mansion

Mansion!content is a genre of its own.

23. Conflicting Ideology

Give me your theses. Who’s right? Can they ever reconcile completely? Write a fic where it drives them apart.

24. Sebastian Shaw

A trope unto himself.

25. Team As Matchmaker

They had to have known something was going on, didn’t they?

26. Cooking

Charles deserves a good meal. Also, imagine Erik using his powers in the kitchen. The sheer domesticity…

27. Hurt No Comfort

Plenty of scope with these two 🥲

28. Growing Old Together

Giving Sirs Ian Mckellan and Patrick Stewart their props as well!

29. Making Up

*pushes chess board across the table* sorry babe

30. Charles Xavier Did More For Mutants Than You'll Ever Know

Rising to each other’s defense. Only I can insult this man.

I will be tracking #revivecherik to reblog stuff! Here’s a fic collection for the same. Let’s get this ball rolling! Please feel free to send me an ask if you’ve got anything to say! And most importantly, let’s all have fun 😁

*I know a few of you preferred something like a gift exchange because of the commitment factor—I’m super down to organise a tiny one for the handful of us! If this promptathon doesn’t flop horribly, we can hopefully do a whole bunch of stuff :)

If you read this post all the way through, please reblog for reach! Thank you! Hoping you participate come April.

Shoutout to @inmymagnetoera for reaching out and helping with this!

[fan-goddess]

A Rose by Any Other Name…

Original Request: Is tagged here if ya wanna read :)

Authors Note: I'm so mixed with this i love some parts yet hate others it's 50/50. Other than that though I adore this au request and hope i did it justice. Just a headsup they're ngl both toxic stupid younglings.

Word count: 9k words (wow...)

Taglist: @humanpurposes @watercolorskyy, @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee

Warnings: Pain, chronic pain, pain flare ups due to chronic pain, soulmates, fluff, angst, actually loving parents, not really a mention of her features only eyes, called a woman and referred to as she/her pronouns, self ableism, a more darker!aemond, implied abuse of royal power, Aemond ngl being lowkey toxic so they both stupid af (if I miss any let me know)

When first learning about soulmates and the fates which follow them, you had prayed to all the seven gods that you would never be misfortune enough to have one. That you should never feel the pain your soulmate felt with flowers marking your skin.

Your mother did not have one, nor did your father or any of your relatives before them, as according to them the whole thing was actually quite rare among the whole of the seven kingdoms.

Though you suppose you never had been very lucky. It was probably what praying to the stranger did to you.

Your first encounter with those damn deep blue flowers that stung while they branded you was on your legs and your abdomen. According to your septas and the lone maester who was permitted to treat your marks, they looked like marks given to a boy beginning his training in combat.

To them, this was seen as an honor, as it meant if you ever got the opportunity to meet him he could protect you. But to you, this merely meant that you were going to need to get used to that incessant stinging. They never knew what it felt like to feel those damn flowers plaguing your body, but not even you knew how to fully describe what it was like. The only way you could even dare think about it if you were truly forced too, was that it was a death sentence.

You never thought through the few years that passed after making the discovery of possessing a soulmate that the pain could get quite worse. But it appears like always, the idea of luck was not on your side.

It was a strange feeling to wake to a flower blooming on the skin of your left eye. The pain was what you focused on most however, as to be awoken to what you could only describe as being fire scorching your skin was something you could never truly describe but know for the rest of your life. Compared to your earlier marks and the pains that came with them, those were merely like when the septas would swiftly hit the ruler over your knuckles.

While you screamed and writhed in pain in your childhood bed, the maester took quick work in forcing milk of the poppy down your aching throat while the small group of septas held back your worrying mother and father who stood scared in the doorway. The medicines effects soon took its place though to yours and everyone's relief, and you were taken in some sort of daze like sleep.

When you awoke a few hours later with your head still fuzzy and a cooling salve slathered patch over your eye, your father was sitting on a chair propped to the edge of the bed tightly holding your hand while your mother slept beside you above the covers.

"Oh my darling, we were so worried!" Your father said, pulling you into a close embrace that woke your mother up from her sleep. By the way the skin underneath her eyes was darkened and how she yawned as soon as she sat up, you could tell she had been trying to stay up all night for you, and the very idea of it made you smile with gratitude you knew other children did not possess. "You gave us such a fright when we heard you screaming so late at night! What happened?"

"I... I do not know father," You said truthfully, your hand unconsciously going to remove the patch from your eye, but stopping when your father grabs your hand and gives you a stern glare that reminds you of your youth, specifically whenever you would steal an extra lemon bar after dinner. "All I remember is falling asleep and then waking to this horrendous pain in my eye and all around it..."

You have a faraway look in your eye as you find yourself unable to look at your mother and fathers lingering questioning gaze. They may not have ever said it, but you can tell that they pity you greatly for the path the gods have pushed you on. You thought this soulmate of yours was some training knight-to-be. But what knight-to-be experienced battle as harsh as having damage to his eye as horrific as you felt it to be? It did possibly occur to you that your soulmate may actually be a hardened knight with years of experience on the battlefield. But after bringing up the concern with your maester, he assured you that the marks you bore would be a lot worse if he was truly some older knight, a kingsguard or even a goldcloak.

Later that day after being ordered to eat lots to restore your energy, your maester came by that evening to visit and check on your mark. His words were kind as he assured you it would've most likely gone down in its intensity since you barely felt anything now except some throbbing from your socket. According to him, while you lay screaming from the pain, a deep blue flower had taken over your entire socket where the pain had bloomed from, in a strange fascinating way making your eye its center.

His touch was gentle as he slowly peeled back the fabric. Yet his face which once held a supportive smile turns to shock and pure horror once you tilted your head up to look at him.

“Maester, what is the matter?” You ask, biting your lip in pure anxiety as he says nothing but stares at your eye. He does not even look away as he grabs a mirror by your bedside table and hands it too you.

When you look into it though, you do not realize what is so wrong except for some small petal edges that leak from around your eye. But then you look more closely and realize with a loud gasp how your once green eye is now a deep blue, and when you close it you gasp again as you comprehend how now a flower has bloomed on your eyelid.

“What… what has happened, maester?!” You yell, unable to look away from your newly changed face.

“I do not know exactly my lady,” The maester begins, forcibly snatching the mirror from your hands so you’re forced to look at him and listen. “The whole written topic of soulmates to my knowledge is so little given at how rare they are, so there is truly not much advice to give you. The basic idea though as I told you when your condition first developed, is that when he is in pain, you are to have a flower bloom on your skin where the pain originates. There is no record I’m afraid of this condition affecting the physical body except from the blooming flowers and the pain that comes with it.”

You stay quiet as you listen to the maester, tears build up as you realize your life shall not be the same. While the idea of having two different coloured eyes is a condition seen around the seven kingdoms, it is still a noticeable thing that would draw attention of the people.

And honestly, you were not sure if you wanted to meet your soulmate. This latest development in your condition is so new and so frightening. Though you must say you cannot help but feel sorry for the soul the gods have promised you too. While what you felt was agony, you have no idea how much it must’ve hurt for your soulmate at that moment.

Over the next few days, you were closely monitored by the maester, the septa’s and your parents who all were anxious to see if the flower on your eye would slowly go down like the other flowers did when the pain disappeared or if it would remain. And much to yours and everyone around you's annoyance, it very much stayed bright and clear on your skin no matter what ointment or potion was used to clear it.

On the fourth day after the incident, as your father called it, a maid who was one of the few with knowledge of your condition came into your chambers with your morning meal, and some important news.

“My lady,” she began, practically sweating as she placed the tray in front of you. “There has been a recent development in regard to your soulmate's identity.”

Since the pain you felt was the most extreme you had ever felt, your father had felt the need to hire some men to investigate to see if this new information would reveal your soulmate's identity, even though the chance of finding an answer was slim to none. Though you suppose there was never a zero percent chance, as proven by the fact there was according to the maid, a recent development.

“What is it?” You ask, biting into the lemon cake first and savoring the sweet yet sour taste on your tongue. “What has my father discovered that he does not feel the need to come tell me himself?”

“Well…” She stumbles, even stepping back a small step as she instinctively looks to the ground. “It turns out that the same day you had that incident my lady, the prince Aemond Targaryen had his eye taken by his young nephew Lucerys, and it was reported to your father that the damage was so bad the eye had to be removed and the socket sewn up.”

The cake that once laid in your hand falls back onto the plate. Your mouth like the cake falls open in the same undignified manner as you cannot believe the words you are hearing.

“Prince Aemond Targaryen?” You find yourself asking in a breathless tone, silent as the maid nods her head.

“May I be dismissed now, my lady?” She asks, knocking you out of a daze you hadn’t even realized you had fallen into. You nod in answer and watch as she leaves, leaving you in silence and your own thoughts that begin to run rampant.

You were soulmates with the Prince! A Targaryen Prince! You heard that out of his three siblings he was the only one with no dragon, but you honestly did not care if he did or did not as either way he was still a man of honor. When thinking of the injuries you received over the years, you cannot help but think of how it made sense.

You knew princes received special training similarly to that of young knights, so when the maester said that the injuries matched up with them made sense. Yet to hear of the Prince's injury that perfectly synced with your own, that was what finally made it all make sense.

You lay backwards in your bed, and allowed the anxiety to wash over your body. The food lay to waste against the covers as you thought only of what your future could hold as a wife of royalty. Of how you would never be a true lady of the court and in the end would no doubt bring about disgrace to your husband's name. Of how in the end compared to your soulmate, the Targaryen warrior, you are just a woman from a lower house who could not bring anything into the marriage but your empty womb.

The next few years after the realization of your soulmate, you spent your time attempting to convince your father not to pursue a marriage between yourself and the Prince. But to your surprise and happiness, your father agreed to not pursue anything marriage related to you without so much of a fuss, even when you, your father and even your mother knew how much a marriage between you and the Prince would help your house bloom in both social standing and resources.

You felt selfish in your insistence of your future, but your father was adamant in telling you that he was not angry in your decision and if anything he was proud to see you so passionate about your decisions.

Your mother much to your delight seemed to agree with you, which probably the main if not the only reason was why your father acted so calmly. According to her you were too young for marriage, which to most people seeing as your mother and father were married quite young it may be seen as hypocritical. But those people were not there to witness all the times your mother gripped her stomach and dreamed of the brothers and sisters you lost on the birthing bed and before.

You were sure not to injure yourself too greatly in fear of that, like how you found out Prince Aemond, he would discover your true identity and come to your doors to claim you in the same way his elder brother Prince Aegon supposedly claimed the ladies of the red keep. 

Yet like all those years ago the night when you realized your eye hard turned blue. The gods were not on your side.

You scream as the pain quickly makes itself known in your arm forcing you to forget anything you’ve ever known other than that overwhelming seering sensation. The tears mask your ability to see the blood pooling up from your skin, and you can hear muffled running in the distance as well as the sound of panicked shouting from the familiar voices of the septas you made such close acquaintances with all those years ago.

You can feel their hands grabbing you, but nothing beats the pain that you cannot even begin to put into words. The maester is by your side as soon as you’re brought to the healing room, and his old wrinkled touch is distinct on your skin as he tries to find the blue flowers he has become so familiar with. Only he does not find blue. Only red. Which is the color of your blood that dyes his fingernails and the tips of his cloak crimson.

Like all those years ago, milk of the poppy is brought to your lips and you are forced to swallow hard and quick. The familiar daze returns as you quickly become numb to the feeling of the sharp needle piercing your skin as the maester attempts to fix you.

You stayed in that bed for at least a day or two before you came too again, but at this point you are used to being there within those familiar walls.

According to the maester, at the height at which you fell from the tree you were climbing in, the tree you were in fact always forbidden to climb but ignored thinking you were safe, you broke your arm clean in two. Apparently the bone had managed to pierce your skin, which is why there had been so much blood. So in order to allow it to heal properly he formed a special layer of hardened protection to stop the arm from any unnecessary movements that could cause further damage to the arm.

As he tells you this, you cannot help but think of how the Prince is thinking right now. Did he get that same piercing pain in his arm too? Did the flowers bloom the same way yours did whenever he managed to harm himself? Were his flowers even the same color as your own? You felt so deep in thought you barely even heard your mother come in to visit.

“My love?” She says, taking your hand in hers and drawing you out from your thoughts. “How are you faring?”

“I am alright mother. The pain is gone, all thanks to the maester.” You say, simply reassuring her as she looks at you carefully to assess whether you lie or not. Yet as she does this you cannot help but notice a distinct figure missing right now. “Where is father?” You cannot help but ask, curious in his whereabouts.

“He went to Kingslanding my love. Do you not remember?” She asks, lips pursed in a sad smile. “You were all set to go with him this morning but since your fall, he was forced to go alone. He sends his best though and wishes that you find a fast recovery, which is seems you have managed to accomplish my strong girl.”

“Oh yes…” You say, remembering she was in fact right. “I suppose I forgot. I did hit my head when I fell.” As soon as you say the words you instantly wince with regret. As before you can even try and defend yourself your mother calls the maester back in and demands a series of further assessments to be done. You sigh as you fall back and your head hits the pillow. This is going to be a long day.

Your father, as he traveled along the road into kingslanding, felt guilt gnawing at his chest for leaving you behind whilst you laid in that healing bed. When he left, you had been in a deep sleep so he had been unable to say goodbye. So he kissed your forehead and squeezed the hand on your unbroken arm and left you to sleep. The guilt remains, but he knows that whilst you lay in that bed you are surrounded and are safer in the presence of your mother and the maester and septas, who overtime have managed to gain much more insight than the majority of people into the topic of soulmates.

As they are so rare, they are viewed as freaks, even though he personally believes that they should be celebrated for being looked upon so greatly by the gods that they have been given a person cut from the same cloth.

When he looks at his own wife, who has given him such light from the darkness of his own life, he likes to think she is his soulmate with or without the flowers blooming on her skin. To him, she is just as beautiful as a fresh bloomed flower after all.

When he exits his carriage down the steps, the queen awaits him with only two of her children standing beside her, and he notices immediately that it is Aemond who is currently absent.

“Will the Prince Aemond not be joining us?” He finds himself asking, eyes widening slightly as he remembers that he is in the presence of royalty. Not some fellow lord whose son is out sleeping away his hangover after fucking a dozen whores.

“No, I'm afraid not Lord Fletcher. My son awoke this morn with a dreadful headache as the maester and he has told me, so he will be staying in his chambers for the duration of the meeting. Probably even for long after you’ve left I’m afraid.” The queen Alicent says, a smile on her face that he immediately knows is forced and strained. After all, he has had to make similar lies when people at the gatherings expect to see you and don’t.

“Ahh, I understand my queen. My own daughter has the same issue with her own health. Some days she wakes as healthy as can be then the next she’s laying in her bed writhing from the worst of pains.” He says, not entirely lying as he remembers those exact moments happening to you as you grew up.

“Ah yes well still we thank you for your understanding.” She smiles again, motioning for him to come and follow her into the castle. “Shall we get down to business?”

The next few hours are spent with him, the queen, and a few other notable house lords debating in the council room. At times the table becomes heated as words are thrown without proper caution, but the Queen always lets a small yet loud cough to remind the men of their place. So to his amusement whenever this happens, the men immediately even when their voices before could shake a mountain, quieten down like freshly stuck dogs denied a newly cut piece of prime steak.

Just as though another annoyingly arrogant man from House Lannister demands to know why his house is in need of paying more of its gold to a lord from House Tarly, the doors burst open, and the second born son of the king walks through as though he was born to strut. As the prince he sits down in the end chair of the council table with all eyes on him, Lord Fletcher cannot help but think about how as soon as he gets home he cannot wait to tell you of how this was the first time he met your soulmate.

“Are you feeling alright my Prince?” He finds himself asking, raising a brow as he turns to the Queen, whose own face holds embarrassment and shock to see her son sitting there before her. “The Queen had told me when I arrived that you were not going to attend today's meeting due to a headache?”

The Prince looks at his mother with what could only be called disdain, and it appears to make her slouch back into her seat while she takes her hand in her own and begins to pick at the nail. It honestly reminds him of how you bite your lips half bloody in your own strange anxiety relieving way.

“I am afraid my mother is mistaken my Lord Fletcher,” The prince simply says. “I merely overdid myself when training with the sword yesterday. I was waiting for the maester to visit so he could give me something to relieve the pain. I do apologize for my tardiness.”

“Oh there is no issue at all my prince.” Lord Fletcher says, an attempt of a smile on his lips. Though he soon becomes distracted when he sees Aemonds eye wander around all those in the room, as if to take some sort of strange attendance record.

“Is your daughter not with you today?” Aemond finally speaks, meeting his eye with Lord Fletcher's own two while he stares him down. “I went to visit my sister before this meeting thinking she would be there so I could greet her and welcome her to kingslanding. But my sister tells me she has never met your daughter. Why is that?”

The Queen Alicent perks from her seat as she remembers now finally remembers the information that had been picking at her all day. “Oh yes my lord pray tell, where is she? I had been so looking forward to introducing her to my only daughter. I had thought the two would get along quite well.”

Lord Fletcher attempts to laugh to ease the sudden tension in the room, but it appears to if anything makes it worse as no faces change from their stoney exterior.

“I’m afraid the day before our departure, my dear daughter had an accident that quite badly injured her arm, the same arm in fact you say to have harmed during your training my prince!” Again he laughs, but that does not stop him from seeing the look the prince and queen share with each other.

It appears the prince is more aware than he thought with the motion of soulmates, though it does make sense when thinking of all the things he’d heard of the one-eyed prince. He is a scholarly boy, so it’d make sense for him to research and look in depth into all the possible books about soulmates the royal library or even the citadel have to offer. He even has the Grand Maester at his beck and call, who no doubt has more information on the topic than anyone else.

“Tell me my lord, how did your daughter have such an accident?” The prince asks as he leans forward so far in anticipation he looks to be at the edge of his seat. “It must’ve been from quite a great height for her to have received such injuries. I do hope she has a quick recovery.”

“Thank you my prince, it means a lot to hear from you. As for how she fell, I believe she was climbing in a tree somewhere on our land when she fell and broke a bone in her arm, the end of which pierced her skin just between her elbow and arm socket, or so our maester told me before I left. I worry about her recovery yes, but I know she is in the hands of a capable maester so I do not doubt she will be feeling much better soon.”

The Prince appears to squint slightly at Lord Fletcher before looking back to his mother. It almost looks like there is a silent conversation between the two, and it’s only interrupted by small tilts of heads by the both of them. It was strange yet interesting to watch.

The Prince hums his final response to the once silent conversation before looking back at Lord Fletcher. “Well as she was unable to make the journey with you to Kingslanding, I suppose I shall have to make the journey to your own home and in a way being Kingslanding to her.”

The silence rings throughout the council room again, with even the queen looking at her son in shock. The councilmen who’d been long forgotten don’t dare attempt to speak a single word since the prince's declaration, which only further proves Lord Fletcher's idea that they’re all idiots in their own rights.

“Are you sure my Prince?” He asks, “Tis I’m sure a tedious journey for you and your dragon-“

“Tis no issue!” Aemond interrupts sharply, his tone firm and assertive. “You are set to travel back home the next morn by carriage I hear. So I shall travel by Vhagar tonight so I may spend the night and meet your daughter in the morn. Is that sufficient enough for you my lord?”

The Prince does not leave room for an answer, as before Lord Fletcher can even open his mouth the Prince already has left the room leaving all councilman members and his mother in shock at the turn of events. And while he feels that same shock, he also cannot help but feel fearful as he knows it’s with his words alone what drove the Prince to commit such quick actions.

He can only dread to think about how the introduction between you and the prince will turn out.

When you awoke the morning after your father had left for Kingslanding, the thing that struck most odd with you were the maids. They looked more fearful than you had ever seen them, and they even avoided eye contact with you, which was odd as by now they had all gotten used to your eye.

“What is the matter with all of you?” You spit, glaring at all the ladies who even after you confronting them refuse to look you in the eyes.

They stay silent as they continue to stare at the stone floor, until finally one of the more recent of the lot breaks the silence.

“The Prince is here, my lady.”

Any anger you felt before this moment disappears soon as it brews and instead is replaced by only stone cold fear.

“He cannot see me…” You murmur, seeing the ladies agree and nod out the corner of your eye. “The Prince cannot see me!”

“He specifically spoke of you when he arrived, my lady,” The maid continues, slowly looking up to stare pitifully at your practically trembling form. You can feel yourself begin to chew at the skin of your inner lip, and yet if anything it encourages you to continue when you start to taste the familiar tang of copper smear on your tongue. “Claims that whenever you wake he wishes for you to join him to break fast together as soon as possible.”

The more this lady speaks the more your gut turns and twists within your body. By now the taste of copper gushes down your throat yet you welcome it gladly, even refusing the goblet one of the other more meeker maids offered you to wash the taste away when they saw red begin to stain your outer lip.

“I have to hide it.” You find yourself firmly saying as you look at one of the older ladies. “Tell me, do we keep any veils that are out of use?”

When the prince awoke within the unfamiliar comfort of the bed with a tired groan building within the back of his throat, it is the memory of the council meeting from the day before that floods his mind, forcing the once tired and sore body into being now quick and alert with excitement and anxiety.

When Aemond was but a young boy, he remembers during one of his lessons on the reign of Maegor feeling a sharp stinging in his knuckles. When he looked down, much to his shock and horror, he saw that light blue flowers were blooming across the pale skin. As much as the initial sight had shocked him dreadfully at first, Aemond could not help but think of that day during later years fondly. As that was the day he realized that maybe after the gods had given him, he was not truly alone.

The Grand Maester had told him everything he himself knew about the topic, and even sent a raven to the citadel to request books speaking of the tales written in the texts. According to him, Aemond was the first in a long time to come forward about possessing one.

Aemond prayed to the gods to meet them soon, but no matter how much he got on his knees no matter how many times he held his hands together in the grand sept with his mother next to him, no girl ever came forward to claim him.

And by the next year, Aemond felt more alone than ever before.

His flowers were never to be allowed to be seen in the eyes of anyone other than his family, a select few maids and the grand maester of course. This was because according to his grandsire, fathers from all across the realm would put their daughters forward claiming to be his soulmate. Also, if it was discovered he had a soulmate, those same fathers may not deem him suitable for marriage if he will abandon his wife for another woman. It was better to hide, so a marriage could be insured and an heir to his name.

Though any thought of a good tempered wife or even a marriage that could soon turn to affection was gone the moment Lucerys stole his eye. He does not remember much other than the pain, but what comes to mind is the thought in the back of his head hoping his soulmate would be alright. Praying that she would not hate him and would still love him even after now being turned into a cripple.

That day he may have lost an eye, but he gained a dragon. He gained the strength to protect his soulmate, and that to him was all that mattered, other than the protection of his mother. Somehow at that moment as she stood there before him, she looked more vulnerable than he did.

While Aemond lay in his bed healing, his mind turned to his soulmate as he remembered the reasoning behind the flowers. The flowers bloom where pain on the other person blooms, in an assurance that they are not alone in this world. Aemond could not help but think it all as a cruel sort of joke, especially as the pain in his eye begins to slowly throb. Yet a part of him is still thrilled to know that even though the Gods have cruelly broken him and built him back up again, there is a person given to him who will share his pain and see him for what he is.

He became even more desperate to discover you as soon as he was fully healed. He called the Grand Maester as soon as he spotted the familiar blue coloring on his skin, and together they looked over each inch of petal extensively until they day turned to night and the oil in the lamps burned out.

According to him, they were marks like that of a piece of wood struck on the knuckles. Which makes sense as Aemond remembers all the times Aegon would fall asleep soon as lessons started, and halfway through a particularly menacing Maester would strike him with a sort of smooth wooden object directly on the knuckles to wake him. It would be a sight that made Aemond smugly smile while he completed all the necessary work and chuckle at later, but thinking of that same treatment happening to his lady made his heart clench in his chest.

Nowadays, whenever he found himself getting injured, whether that is simply a bruise from training with Ser Cole or a sudden onslaught of inner pain in his eye socket, in his mind he always found himself apologizing at the back of his mind for causing pain for his lady. He finds himself wishing he was better in lessons so he could have avoided the swords, wishing he had fought better in the caves against his nephews and cousins so he wasn’t missing his eye. Whatever the situation, Aemond always craved that he was better. And found at the center of it all it was all for her.

He remembers his three and ten name day much too clearly. It lingers in the back of his mind like a plague. The salty stench of the air. The taste of the cheap alcohol Aegon had forced him to consume as according to him, the act was better when a person is left in a daze. The feeling of that woman’s too warm skin. The sound of her supposedly seductive voice that instead of arousing him only managed to make him further horrified. All of it stayed with him for years sticking to his skin.

Though the part which struck out most for him were the thoughts he could not help but think as that woman sunk down on him and robbed him of any free will. The realization that he would not be able to stay chaste for his soulmate. The idea that maybe she would not want to be with him once she found that her soulmate had laid with filthy whores paid by the go to fuck all sorts of men.

He ran out of that place as soon as the weight on his limp body was lifted, and as soon as he reached the comforts of his own bed with the covers lifted well over him like a cocoon, he cried. He cried for the loss of his body. He cried for the loss of his ability to think without remembering what that woman was doing to him while dribbles of tears streaked down his cheek. He cried for not being faithful to you.

He cried for his future with a soulmate who hated him for actions beyond his own control.

Though as Aemond dressed in appropriate clothes he brought with him for the special moment, his mind cannot help but think back to his earlier worries. Yet now, he is a man.

Aemond possesses the largest dragon in the world. Which to him even now was worthy of the trade of his eye. He is a scholar of history and philosophy whose work has even been submitted to the citadel to be placed in books that’ll be read by many accomplished people. He is even a greatly talented swordsman as said so by all those who have watched him train in the yard. He has become a man worthy of your love and your future.

Yet his hands still fumble about with the other whilst he follows a plain looking maid to the dining hall. He requested a meeting with you in private specifically in a place you were familiar with so you could be comfortable when meeting him. He may be a dragon, but he likes to imagine that he is no monster.

He sits there for what feels like hours. Picking at the skin above his nail until he can feel the blood pooling. He’s about to do it again to his final nail on his left hand, but then you walk in and everything stops. Only not for the reason he would’ve hoped it to have.

As he does not meet the eyes of his soulmate. Instead he meets nothing. He merely stares blankly at the veil that covers your whole face.

“What are you wearing?” He asks, glaring at the damned piece of fabric in his way.

“Clothes, my Prince.” You simply say, the sarcasm not annoying him like how Aegons does. Though Aegon was always just a twat. You appear to make it interesting and actually entertaining to take part in.

“Trust me, my lady, I can see just fine with one eye.” He smirks, silently seething at the prospect of being unable to see your face. He already knows you to be beautiful, it just irks him that he is unable to confirm it. “Why do you hide yourself?”

“What do you mean my Prince?”

“Why do you hide your face? Is there a chance you are afraid of me? Or of what you think I will see?” As soon as the words leave his lips he sees the way your body freezes up. “Do you wish to sit down my dear lady? I am sure it was never a part of your etiquette lessons to break fast while standing.”

You do not say anything as you move to sit in a seat near the middle of the table, and Aemond already in his mind is thinking that’s much too far away from him as he continues to sit at the end seat.

The two of you though stay silent as you both begin to eat the spread of food in front. From the corner of his eye he watches you, and it’s strange how he finds himself suddenly so jealous of the fruit you begin to eat. Jealous of the way those grapes get to go under your ridiculous veil and be touched by your lips, which Aemond already knows to be soft and oh so kissable. He has never seen them, but he just knows.

“Would you not be more comfortable without the veil my lady?” Aemond asks, watching carefully as you stop eating and turn your head to look at him.

“No, I am fine with my current predicament. Is it not more comfortable for you to not wear the eyepatch?” You quip back, with no doubt a smile on your face.

“I suppose you are right my lady,” Aemond drawls, watching the way your head tilts and the fabric concealing you from him lightly pressed against the curves of your face. “How about I propose this. I take off my patch, and you take off your veil?”

“I do not accept it!” You practically yell, your hands clenching so hard that Aemond could see even from where he sat the knuckles turning white.

“Besides…” You continue in a much softer tone like that of a burdened lady, which Aemond knows for sure is not true at all from what he has heard of your life story. “I am hideous to look at. This veil more protects you than it protects me my Prince I am sure of it.”

Aemond hums a response, but his eye says all as it trails over your covered body.

“So those who have told me in person how you are easily one of the prettiest maidens they have seen are lying then, are they my lady?” He reveals, watching you carefully so he can attempt to decipher your movements.

“They must be my Prince. As far as I have been told, I am the ugliest lady they have ever seen and how I shall die a spinster locked away in a tower!”

It’s strange, how when Aemond thinks of that actually happening his fists clenched tightly by his sides, and how he gets the overwhelming urge to maim those people claiming you to be so hideous. To make them so ugly and deformed and force them to sit all day everyday in front of a mirror so they can see the true meaning of being grotesque.

“You lie.” Aemond simply growls, his brow harshly furrowed from the mixture of anger from the idea of those insulting you and frustration from you still hiding your true identity from him.

He closes his eye and takes a minute to simply breathe past his anger. His body slowly tingly as he swears he feels your eyes piercing his soul.

“What if I strike a bargain with you, my sweet maiden?” Aemond says, the nickname oozing off his tongue with arrogance and self assurance.

“And why should I even think about striking a deal with you, my Prince?”

“Because I believe it shall benefit the both of us my lady. Now, do you wish to hear what I have in mind?”

“If you insist on telling me then I suppose I shall be obliged to hear words from the Prince of the realm.” You sigh, leaning your body to one side so your head is laying on the palm of your hand and Aemond gets another glimpse at how you look without truly seeing you.

“I suppose you are…” He says, leaning forward so his arms are fully lying on the table and his spine is slightly curved. “Still, the bargain I wish for you to partake in is this. I shall take off my eye patch so you can see what true grotesque is, and you my sweet maiden shall take off your good for nothing veil. Then I suppose we can see out of the two of us who is the most ugly, as you so bluntly put it.”

Aemond barely has a chance to blink before you're yelling a distinctive and firm “No” that manages to echo somehow in the room.

“Now now my sweet don’t be so resistant…” Aemond grins, tilting his head to one side as he finds himself delighted with how riled he’s made you. “You did not even consider it for a second.”

“Because I did not need to!” You bite back, slamming your hands against the wooden table so hard it manages to shake your plate still possessing some food and even your goblet too. “If I do not wish to show you you have no right to force me!”

“Oh, but I’m afraid I do my sweet maiden…” He says, getting up from his chair so he can oh so slowly make his way over to where you appear to sit frozen in your own chair. “As a prince, I have power where you do not. Now, I do not wish to abuse such power for situations like this one. I do not like to abuse my power in general in any situation. But I may find myself very willing to show you what it is I am capable of. Do you understand me maiden?”

Aemond pauses for a moment as he watches the way the veil moves with every shallow breath you take before he does something that leaves his own heart beating frantically in his chest from every emotion possible to feel.

Aemond slowly peels off his eyepatch to reveal to you a shining blue sapphire surrounded by deep scarred flesh before chucking the piece of dark brown leather onto the table in front of you.

“I have completed my end of our bargain my sweet lady. Now complete yours, before I get impatient.”

You sigh deeply and Aemond cannot help but feel his heartbeat thrice as hard in his chest from anticipation alone. He yearns to see your eyes, your lips, your nose, your everything If only you should allow him too.

So when your hands slowly move to entangle themselves in where the veil begins from within your hair, his heart feels as though he fully stops when the veil is slowly pulled away and the face of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life stares back at him.

“Gevie” He cannot help but murmur as his eye moves over your whole face and his body is forced to sit down in the chair next to you so he can focus on looking solely at you.

“What does it mean?” You ask, though Aemond barely registers it as he’s entranced with how your lips move with each syllable.

“Beautiful.”

There is a rare silence between the two as they each take time now looking at each other. You stare at the sapphire that glints when the sunlight beaming through the window hits it. While Aemond now looks properly at your eye, which he has discovered is a whole different color than the other. And when you blink and reveal the delicate flower imprinted on your eyelid, he cannot help but gape and gasp slightly.

“Did I do that?” He asks, pure horror in his tone and words.

“It was done a long time ago my Prince,” You simply say, smiling slightly in a strange way to comfort him. “And in a way, I suppose it was done by whoever took out your own eye. I do not expect you to suddenly reveal to me that you tore it out yourself. So therefore, you should have no more guilt than the person truly responsible.”

“I’ll kill the bastard!” Aemond growls, anger spilling from him in waves as he thinks of his nephew whose crime has gone on for too long.

“Careful my Prince. Those are dangerous words you are saying about children of the crown. You are lucky it is only me who is here.” You smile.

At first, you were so defensive and so sure the veil would hinder the Prince from prying about what was underneath it. You had thought of him like how you thought of all other men, and that when challenged with the prospect of an ugly woman he would not care and move on. Yet you suppose the gods do like to play tricks in the unlikeliest of places.

He had worn you down with the harshest of phrases and the most defensive body language, yet when you saw him at his most vulnerable with his sapphire shown bare to you you could not help but allow the overwhelming feeling of awe take over you while you stared at him.

As you unmasked yourself before him however and saw his own look of awe while he stared at all your features that had once been so carefully hidden from him, you could not deny the way your heart beat loud in your chest.

Even the way he murmured in his unique Valyrian tongue made you feel a strange feeling of specialness. As if no other woman had been seduced by those same words.

As you spoke to each other, your tongue slowly loosed as it felt for some reason so right to do so. You joking with the Prince felt so natural and yet so foreign at the same time.

“I suppose I am lucky my lady that it is you who sits there.” He says in response to your dangerous quip about his nephews, whose mother if she had heard yours or Prince Aemonds words would’ve surely sharply questioned you for them with no thought of mercy. “Though I suppose I am even more lucky that it is no ordinary woman who sits before me.”

He waits for a moment to see if you will guess his next words. But to be honest he almost forgets them himself as he gets distracted staring at your bottom lip which you bite between your teeth.

“I am lucky as it is my soulmate who sits before me as beautiful as the maiden herself.”

You feel like all the air in your lungs has left and you're gasping for air. Yet it's not as painful as you thought. In fact, it's rather remarkable to feel yourself burn in the presence of a dragon.

Still, even with this miraculous feeling within you, you cannot help but think of how your soulmate treated you but moments before. Arrogant. Selfish. Coercive. Your soulmate forced you to show yourself to him when you were uncomfortable. Did you really want to be fated to be with that person for the rest of your life?

"What's wrong my love?" Aemond asks, seeing the anxious expression on your face.

"How is it you can be so kind to me, when not even what I can guess to be less than half of an hour ago you were treating me as if I were some sort of shit on your shoe?" You ask, looking him dead in the eye as his body appears to freeze up before you.

If you weren't so focused on forcing the truth from a prince of the realm, you would think that it was actually very thrilling and sort of empowering to force a prince into silence.

"I did not mean to treat you like that." He begins, his head tilted to the floor so you cannot see his eyes and his neatly kept hair falls forward like a sort of curtain either side of his face. "I am sorry I was harsh on you. I suppose... I suppose I was scared."

Oh?

"All of my life, since I was a child, I was praying for you. For my soulmate to come into my life. And I suppose after all that time passing without you turned me bitter and angry that the gods did not hear my pleas. My feelings only became more sour when finally in front of you, instead of immediately accepting me and welcoming me you denounced me and spurned me with your words."

"You really thought I would jump into your arms like some sort of innocent lovesick maiden?" You say, staring at the man in front of you in disbelief. Aemond for the first time since his confession looks up at you from his curtain of silver locks, disbelief in his own stare as he listens to your honest words.

"Aemond, the idea of being tied to someone for the rest of my life was challenging for me as a child. Before the loss of your eye, all I had felt was mere stings. Yet feeling the pain I felt that day, it frightened me. I was a child-"

"I WAS A CHILD TOO!" Aemond yells, standing up so suddenly and leaning over you that you shriek a little in fear. “I was the one experiencing it first hand! The one who had to be held down by maesters and stared at by all as milk of the poppy was forced down my throat so maesters could tear out my eye with no true concern for me! YOU DID NOT HAVE TO GO THROUGH THAT AS YOU LAID ABED WHINING LIKE SPOILT CHILD!”

“DO NOT YELL AT ME!” You find the courage to say, standing up and pushing him away so he stumbles a couple steps back in surprise. “I get that you are angry and believe the entire world hates you! But do not blame me because you cannot be angry at those truly deserving of it! Do not yell at me because you are forbidden from getting your revenge on your bastard nephew! Do you understand me?!”

Aemond, in the same manner as that of a kicked dog, nods a yes to your question. Though when you glare hard at him to tell him that answer is unacceptable he quickly fumbles for words that eventually make it out to be heard.

“Thank you.” You simply say, stepping forward to show him how he has earned that step. “I understand you were disappointed I was not there for you. But you need to understand I was scared about it all. Scared of my future, scared of what was to come. Do you even get how scared that must’ve been for me?”

“Yes I understand that.” Aemond says, stepping a single step closer and pausing to see if you allow it which you do. “I am sorry for not thinking of you when you yourself were obviously hurting yourself. I was selfish-“

“It is not selfish, Aemond, to act like how you did.” As you speak, you step that last final step towards your soulmate and place an admittedly cautious hand onto his cheek. Though you think what surprises you most is when he immediately closes his eye and pushes his cheek hard against your palm. “I forgive you Aemond, even when I don’t know if I ever should for how you treated me.”

“I do not truly expect you to.” Aemond murmurs, his eye still closed as he savors your warmth against his cheek. “Though I vow here before you as not just your soulmate but as a man, that I’ll make it my life’s mission to form myself as a man worthy for you. To form myself into what you deserve.”

“Though I suppose that’s the strangest thing about our whole meeting.” You whisper, placing your other hand on the part of Aemonds face where the dark brutal mark that is his scar takes most of its space. It forces a somehow now calm and content Aemond to all of a sudden open his eye and even gasp so silently you almost barely hear it when your thumb slowly traces the raised yet soft skin of the scar that has defined him for so long.

“I don’t find myself wishing you to change to be better. I find myself wishing for you to stay how you are, even if you may hurt me.”

And with that, without either of you knowing whose fault it truly is, your limbs find comfort with each other, and all feels right.

[k-eilonwy]

decided to get back to my roots for a bit and tackle redesigns of my all-time favourite mlp G3 dream team : 3 these five have shaped my early 2010s and helped me to grow both as an artist and storyteller (i started writing silly little fanfics and my own take on the then-hypothetical G5 based on G3 and these five characters in particular), so they have, and always will have my entire heart.

i came up my own kind of au version of G3 and here are some of my small headcanons for each character!!

Rainbow Dash:

her parents are Parasol (G1 pony) and Barnacle (G1).

she is the oldest (and the tallest!) of the five.

she is a major fashionista and diva, but with a hint of adventurousness and even ferocity behind those eyes. Dash is a fan of all things beautiful, be it bright colours, grand celebrations, and more down-to-earth values.

naturally, her craft is related to rainbows - she draws them with the special paint she makes herself, and it's a very rare knowledge among the Ponyville citizens (Unicornia's rainbow-creating magic works on the same basis as Dash's paint, she just makes it without the unicornian magic involved).

oftentimes she is the voice of reason for her friends.

in her free time she designs clothing in collaboration with Sew-and-So and funds/runs fashion shows.

isn't the biggest fan of sweets (thinks it spoils her figure and coat).

absolutely adores rainy weather (cause rainbows).

is a sap for romance and cheep romantic novels.

Spike:

was born in a dragon tribe living far from pony societies.

was born wingless and with water-based powers, while most dragons breathed fire and had wings, so he's an oddball amongst the common dragons.

the dragons were supposed to work with pony royalty/leaders and protect them. The way the dragons chose did it was passing a test of obtaining a very rare flower only meant to be gifted to the royalty - the Royal Everbloom, a flower which was near impossible to maintain/grow but could bloom for forever.

Spike failed to pass his test of safely delivering the Royal Everbloom back to the tribe, failing to protect the flower from a bad storm so it withered under hard rain. However, Wysteria noticed Spike struggling to keep the flower safe just outside her cottage and brought them both inside - nursing the poor dragon and the flower back to health. It suddenly bloomed under her care, so by the old tradition, it meant that Wysteria belonged to royalty.

cue the events of Princess Promenade pretty much the same as they went down in the original as Spike played the role of mentor and royal advisor to Wysteria. She still rejected the title in the end, proclaiming that Ponyville didn't need royalty to govern over them and that she was no more special than any other.

Spike is humbled (and charmed) by her worldview and decides that he rather enjoys the simple life of local ponies - besides, he has grown deeply devoted to Wysteria and doesn't want their friendship to end, so he parts with his tribe and lives with the purple gardener in her little cottage.

he greatly helps Wystie with gardening - his water-breathing powers come in handy while working with plants! He finds that even if he doesn't breathe fire like "normal" dragons, he still can make his abilities work in other fields.

he is often the brains of the group - his exotic dragonic upbringing is a great contrast to the ponies' more down-to-earth worldviews.

is a vegetarian (idk if all dragons in this universe are or it's just him, but-).

is a big fan of literature of all kinds, especially poetry.

generally is a huge nerd and is prone to rambling about his favourite subjects. Not the most outgoing person, more of an introvert, especially in contrast to most ponies (that's why they match their energies with Wysteria so well).

absolutely adores Wysteria, they are something of platonic soulmates/life-partners. Can be very protective of her, even though he is usually non-threatening/pretty chill (he is her personal dragon guardian!)

Wysteria:

her parents are Blossom (G1) and Salty (G1).

Petal Blossom (G2) is her maternal older cousin.

Wysteria took to gardening and flower arrangement since early years from her mother. Participated in a lot of local fair gardening competitions through her fillyhood and won the majority of them (the trophies are kept at her parents’ house). 

moved out from her parents’ house once she had managed to save up enough money to purchase a small but neat cottage at the edge of the woods; it is located near Ponyville, but quite far from its centre. Pinkie, Minty and Dash like to visit their bestie and her dragon friend on weekends and each time together they plan some really fun activities. 

during spring and summer seasons, Wysteria lives off selling flowers and bouquets at Ponyville’s biggest market. Once autumn hits however, she and Spike stay at one of their three closest friends’, Pinkie, Minty or Dash’s, house until next spring - each year they stay at a different pony’s house. Wysteria and Spike help out with chores and share household duties during their stays, but even regardless of that their friends are simply happy to let the two live with them.  

Wysteria is socially anxious and quite solitary, content with keeping a limited circle of friends to spend time with. Akin to Snufkin she requires a lot of “alone” time away from others, that’s why she likes living so far from the town. However she is very dependable and very very kind, so a lot of ponies confide in her.

hates. weeds. so. much.

often feeds stray and forest animals coming to her cottage. Is fond of bunnies and birds the most.

Pinkie Pie:

her parents are Cotton Candy Snr. (G1) and Slugger (G1). Is a twin sister to Cotton Candy Jr (G3).

Pinkie runs a gift shop along with Minty, her bestie since fillyhood and a life-partner.

works as a party planner as her second job - generally just love celebrations and organising events.

she is a natural leader and is able to make even opposing groups come and work together. Sociable and easy-going, pretty chill to be around.

isn't easily scared and usually doesn't believe things she can't see with her own eyes or try out.

has a MAJOR sweet-tooth: her sister runs an ice-cream cafe, so there's that.

has a "supernatural" ability to come up with a solution to almost anything, - using Pinkie's squink (basically just squeezing her eyes tight and thinking long enough).

is drawn to photography and films.

Minty:

her parents are Minty Snr. (G1) and Steamer (G1). Ice Crystal (G1) is her maternal uncle.

everyone's favourite disaster-monger.

works in a gift shop alongside Pinkie. Generally can't function well without her supervision lol.

Clutzy and socially anxious, but in a different way than Wysteria, Minty is obsessive, hyperactive and makes up for her awkwardness with her pony-pleasing attitude. Enjoys helping others out, it makes her feel important.

can't sit still for long period of time, needs an outlet for her excessive energy.

collects SOCKS.

winter is her favourite season; it reminds her of warmth and companionship of her friends huddled close by the fireplace. Exchanging gifts and stories. Making others smile.

is surprisingly good at checkers.

is claustrophobic, hates being limited.

doesn't enjoy reading that much, but rather likes picture-book illustrations.

[thehouseofurmotha]

ミミ❤*•.¸♥ 𝓜𝔂 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓮 ♥¸.•*❤彡彡

Pairing: Shinso x reader

Soulmate au! I looooove soulmate au's in this one the first words you speak to your soulmate is tattoo'd somewhere on your body! There are other types of soulmates tho like more subtle ones too where you crave whatever your soulmate is eating, have a clock that counts down etc etc. Also I fear I did not have the patience to write all of the events for the sports festival so it kinda sucks 😭

Okay giving y/n a quirk in this one too

Quirk: Sakura! You can create sakura leaves, with the leaves you can control them similarly to how Hawks can control his feathers, while also being able to create things out of your petals.

Downsides: migraines from over use, as well as the more you push your quirk the weaker the items you make become. (Imagine this is present mics voice guys)

Warnings: Sports festival arc 😔, swearing, angst

Summery: Meeting your soulmate goes happens in the most unexpected way.

You fight shinso in the first round instead of Midoriya

"THE SPORTS FESTIVAL?" The class all shouts in unison, after what they had just went through, they weren't sure if this was the best idea.

"Yeah, Aizawa-Sensei are you sure that's a good idea after the USJ attack?" Kaminari is the one to voice everyone's concerns.

"That's a valid concern Kaminari, but the Sports Festival is the most watched sports event across the world. Before the development of quirks people watched the Olympics, but now if you enjoy watching competition you're watching the U.A. sports festival. It's not something that we can just simply cancel. Security will be increased tenfold compared to other years." This seemed to satisfy your classmates concerns. Trusting whole heartedly what there teacher has to say. "You guys will have the next two days to prepare. Don't take this lightly, pros from all over the country will be watching and scouting."

And with that he dismisses the class, allowing you and your classmates to go change into your uniforms and work on training.

You work on allowing yourself to propel yourself through the air with your petals. You forge them to make wings of sorts on your back. It works pretty well, but flying in the air is definitely something you'll need to get use to. Ending back on the ground due to an overwhelming nausea caused from motion sickness.

Aizawa throws a bottle of water at you, it hits your arm causing you to look up at him. "Smart way to use your power, being in the sky can give you many advantages while doing hero work."

"Thank you Aizawa-Sensei." The water quickly helps you feel better, and the praise from your teacher puts a smile on your face. Knowing that you're on the right track gives you the motivation to keep going.

As the school day finally ends, you're tired but there's a feeling of satisfaction knowing that all your hard work will be put on display at the School Sports Festival. Not just any school either, U.A. the top hero school that you somehow managed to get into. You honestly don't really remember how you did it, you do know that you scored extremely high on the entrance exam. This entire school year has felt like a fever dream.

The only thing that you think could make it any more feverish, was to meet your soulmate. You knew that this was the age where quite a lot of people ended up meeting their soulmates, and you desperately hoped it would be the case for you. Being able to grow up with your soulmate, would be a blessing. With this, there was also that voice in the back of your head that you never would meet them. It's definitely not an unheard of thing, some people just never do find their fated partner.

There were many different ways people found out who their soulmate was. You were lucky enough to have the most obvious form, the first words your soulmate will ever speak to you is tattooed on your body. Yours is on your side specifically. The words aren't the most romantic, but they bring you comfort saying, 'so you have an impressive Quirk huh?, I've never seen anything like it'

You still desperately craved to meet your soulmate. And as you drifted to sleep that night, you thought about them. And who they might be.

The day of the sports festival had finally arrived. You sit in the 1-A waiting room feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety. You really wanted this to go well for you. To have the pro hero's see you and scout you for internships. It was such a exciting idea. They announced that the first event would be an obstacle course. With your ability to fly this should be a piece of cake for you.

As they announced the start, it suddenly dropped to frigid temperatures and you watch as multiple people get Frozen to the ground. You managed to react quickly enough to get yourself in the air before it manages to reach you. As you get into the sky you see 3 different people ahead of you.

Many people may be competing to the winner of the first event, but all you wanted to do was stand out, but not enough that people would think you're too much of an enemy.

You manage to make it through the first round coming in 5th place and you're more than happy about it. You take the time between rounds to allow yourself to breath, you hoped that you hadn't used to much power flying for the entirety of round one. But whether you did or not, you would keep pushing through.

Midnight announced that the second round would be a cavalry battle. Depending on what place you came during the obstacle course, determined how many points you were worth. Other than the first place winner, who had a million points. Every person higher than the last had 5 points added. So the person in 42nd place had 5 points and then it went up from there.

Since you had come in 5th place, you were worth 185 points. You were so glad that you hadn't fight so hard to be in first place. Part of you pitied Midoriya for the large target that would be placed on his team.

At some point, while you had been lost in thought. A certain purple headed tired looking guy had started walking towards you. You snap out of your thought to see him standing in front of you. You hadn't seen him around before, so you figured that he wasn't in the hero course class 1-B. Maybe a support course student by the look of it.

"So you have an impressive Quirk huh?, I've never seen anything like it." As the words come out of his mouth a burning sensation starts in your side and spreads throughout you. You freeze, staring at him in shock. You realized that the moment you spoke, he would know who you were. He would know that you're his soulmate.

Before you can even think you start running away from him. You want to turn around, to speak to him but your body won't let you.

A second later your snapped back into reality, crashing into someone's chest. You look up and realize that it was Todoroki. You immediately move backwards and start muttering out apologies.

"Oh, it's okay y/n. Are you okay?" He looks at you with what you think may be concern.

"Oh yeah I'm okay!" You give him your normal positive attitude, you couldn't let what just happened distract you.

"I was coming to find you anyways, it seems you don't have a team so will you be on mine?" You give him a small nod in response.

"Of course, I promise to do my best." With that you smile and are warned that the cavalry battle is starting soon.

Somehow in the matter of 15 minutes, your team managed to get the one million headband and win. You honestly feel as though you had blacked out, still distracted by what had happened earlier. But you did your part, and so did the rest of your team resulting in the win.

The last part of the sports festival was finally upon you. The one on one individual battles. You were horrified to find out that you would be fighting against him, who you found out is named Hitoshi Shinsou. Your soulmate, who didn't know he was your soulmate.

Well your lost in thought, Ojiro comes over to you. In your time at U.A. you and him had started to become friends.

"Y/n you cannot speak to him while fighting." He looks so serious as he says this.

"Uh why?" You're genuinely puzzled at this, not that you really wanted to say anything to him.

"His quirk is brain washing, the second you speak to him he can get you to do anything he wants. That's how he got me to join his team, that's why I dropped out." You feel bad for him, knowing how excited he was about the sports festival.

"Thanks for the heads up Ojiro." Part of you wants to keep this in mind, but all you want to do is talk to him.

"I know this may sound selfish, but beat him for you and me." And with that he walks away leaving you to prepare yourself for your battle.

Internally you start to freak out, not knowing if you could do this. And suddenly all the time has passed, and you're standing in the arena waiting for midnight to tell you to start. Your heart beats so fast you think it might beat right out of your chest.

"Let the battle begin!" Midnight calls out and everything suddenly feels so much more real. This is actually happening, and there's actual pro hero's watching your every move.

"So your the girl that ran away from me earlier? Well there's no running now." There's a smirk on his face, like he's over confident.

You remain silent carefully creating petals but keeping them out of sight from him.

"Hm? Still nothing to say, what a shame. Of course a pretty face like yours has nothing to say. No opinions, no nothing just meant to sit there and look pretty." You know he's just trying to get into your head, and you hope that if he knew he wouldn't be saying this things.

Once you feel you've made enough petals, you quickly shoot them out to restrain him. Pushing him closer and closer out of bounds.

"Ooo look pretty girls got a pretty quirk. Fitting huh." You take a good look at him. Studying his features. You can see on his face you knows he isn't going to win. Not if he doesn't get you to speak.

"You know you're lucky, to have such a hero like quirk. People like me, who don't have physical type quirks what are we supposed to do?" You can head the pain in his voice, you can feel his pain. And it starts to cloud your judgment. But you keep pushing to get him out of bounds. He is certainly fighting back.

"So this is how it's going to go? You're not actually going to fight me? Fine, be a coward."

This almost gets you to respond to him. But you know you can't, you have to win this battle. It feels like your future career as a pro hero depends on it. You need to stand out, to let people see you.

Finally you get him right to the edge. And for some reason, you start to cry.

"What the fuck are you crying about? Does the pretty girl feel bad for not giving me a chance to put up a real fight." And with that you push him out of bounds and he looks at you with hatred.

You take a deep breath, feeling it go all the way through your lungs, "I'm sorry you had to find out like this."

You immediately see the shock in his eyes as he clutches he's side.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You knew this whole time you fucking knew. You- you fucking hid this from me. And you tell me now of all fucking times. You're genuinely an awful fucking person. I wish you had just kept your mouth shut." The longer he rants the louder he gets and you're sure the whole stadium could hear him. You start to sob harder as he starts to come towards you. He doesn't look like he wants to hurt you but it's clear he's not happy either.

Before he can reach you he's knocked out by Midnights quirk. You fall to your knees sobbing and begging his unconscious body for forgiveness. Quickly you brought away from the prying eyes of the audience by Midnight.

At some point you ended up in a room with both Midnight and Aizawa.

"Alright kid, do you know why he got so angry? I mean I get losing sucks but that was a different type of angry." Aizawa, your teacher is the one who breaks the silence.

"It's my fault- it really is- he's- he's my soulmate and I figured this out earlier before the Cavalry battle began. I couldn't break myself to speak to him after he spoke to me first. So I ran away. But then- after the match ended I couldn't stop myself- I didn't mean to speak to him- but I did- and it's my fault.." You stare out the ground, not brave enough to look up at either Aizawa or Midnight. Some hero you'll be.

"Alright kid, I'm only gonna say this once so you better listen alright?" You just give a small nod to let him know you're listening. "You were put in a rough spot, you found out during a time where you were already under a load of pressure. You didn't know how to handle it, sure you didn't go about it in a great way. But you're a teenager." He sighs, you look up with him and is met with tired eyes. Just like his.

Midnight chimes in, "It's just fate hun, this is how you were supposed to meet. And I know it may be scary now but it'll work out." Aizawa just grunts in agreement.

"Thank you.." It comes about barely a whisper but they hear it.

"He should be awake soon, we're only on the second match of the first round and you'll be last in the second, so you should have some time to talk to him if you so please." With that statement from Midnight, her and Aizawa leave the room. Leaving you alone with just your thoughts.

Before you have time to think about it, your legs are bringing you to Recovery girls office where he was being held.

You pace in front of the door for 5 minutes before gaining the courage to knock. You hear a gruff 'come in' and you know that he's awake. You take a moment before carefully opening the door.

"Oh. It's just you." He says it like he's upset, but you can see the relief on his face.

"I'm sorry, I just, I didn't know what to do." You look at him, begging silently for his forgiveness.

He sighs, "I get it, I guess. You were in a tough spot and I probably would have done the same. I shouldn't have freaked out on you."

"It's okay, I deserved it."

"No, you didn't I was out of line. I have a lot to work on if I ever want to be a hero."

"I think we both do." As your gaze meets his again, suddenly you realize how everything has changed.

"Thank you though, for not actually fighting me. I don't think I would have been able to live with myself if I had caused you pain." He looks up at you, with his knees pulled to his chest and his head resting atop of them."

You give him a slight nod in response not knowing what to say. "You know, I always wondered what scenario would cause my soulmate to be telling me they're sorry we had to meet like this. But I guess I get it now."

"Your words to me were so much better than mine. You deserve better, and I'll spend my entire life trying to be the better you deserve." His eyes widen and it looks like he might cry.

"We'll do it together." And then everything in the world feels right. Like this is exactly where your meant to be.

Alright chat I fear I did not eat this one up 😔 but we thug it out. I've spent to long on this trying to figure out out so I give up 😞😞 please forgive me if it's bad 🙏 as always my requests are open and happy reading! <3

[thewriterwithnoplan]

Ferrari's Fairytale (1/3)

Summary: World Championships are the most important part of any Formula One team's history. Except perhaps, Ferrari's. Known for their rabid fans, filthy-rich investors, and pretty boy drivers it shouldn't be a surprise that the team has brought together Soulmates from across the globe. And fate, it seems, is working awfully hard to put all the pieces into place for Ferrari's perfect fairytale - one that's been in the works for decades now.

[Part 1 of Pretty Girls and Ferrari Boys]

Soulmate AU: Soulmates share injuries and pain.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader (Eventual)

Word Count: 1650

Warnings: Swearing, no Charles in this first part sorry it's his epic love story and those take time ;)

Masterlist

There was something wrong with your soulmate.

Really there had been something wrong with them since you were eight years old. But right now, there was something particularly wrong with them.

“Just some bruising over the ribcage, but no actual damage internally.” The medic presses a latex covered hand gently against your ribs.

“They feel broken.” You suck in a pained breath and glare over her shoulder, at the little framed picture of her cat, Terror, on her desk. “You’re sure I’m not about to sneeze and puncture a lung?”

“Funny.” Though the look she gives you as she pulls off her gloves is less than amused. “Which one of us went to medical school again?”

“My best friend. You might know her. She’s stunning, generous, gives me free check-ups, did I say stunning? Goes by Sunny.”

“It’s Doctor Sunny to you.” She slingshots one of the gloves at you. “But it’s good to know you only keep me around for the free check-ups.”

“My soulmate would bankrupt me without you.”

Sunny taps at her computer, “The fee isn’t that high.”

“Sure,” You shrug. “If you aren’t in here every other week.”

“Have we ruled out hitman as their profession?”

“Since we were eight?”

“I don’t know much about hitmen, maybe they start them young.”

You lower yourself carefully from the observation table and move stiffly toward her desk. “Give it to me straight Doc. How much longer have I got?”

“I’m afraid you’ll live, ma’am.” Sunny doesn’t even look up. “A tragedy for all, I know. I can give you a moment if you need time to process– Ow! Bitch.”

She rubs at her shoulder and huffs.

“I’m going to have to log that in the database, you know.” She says.

“Good, maybe we can both find our soulmates and be done with it all.”

“Real romantic, dude.”

“Your soulmate hasn’t been terrorising you since you were a kid.”

“I had my fair share of scraped knees,” Sunny wrinkles her nose when you stick your tongue out. “You do know it won’t stop after the two of you meet, right? That’s a schoolyard myth.”

“After the talking to I’m going to give him, you bet your perky ass it’s going to stop.”

“That’s the second instance of workplace harassment I’ve coped from you in the last minute.”

“Fine. Your ass is not perky.”

“Mature.” She hums, “What time did you say the pain started?”

“Ten-thirty-ish?”

“All good then.” Sunny makes a few more clicks before powering down her computer. “Your chest and my arm, all nice and logged.”

“You know, sometimes I think you became a Match Medic specifically so you could put every little thing into the database to make it easier to find your soulmate.”

“Perks of the job.” She scoops up her handbag. “Come on, let’s bounce before the front desk starts scheduling over my lunch break.”

“You remember how I said you were stunning and generous and stunning?”

“I’m not buying you lunch.”

“Could this week get any worse?” You throw your head back dramatically.

Sunny cracks a smile at your antics, “Only a few more hours and we’re free for the weekend.”

“Are we still on for pamper-night tonight?”

“Always. Mine or yours?”

You end up spending the night in Sunny’s apartment, covered in different rejuvenating oils and masks until you look like low-budget horror movie villains. In your fluffy robes with The Princess Bride on in the background Sunny tries to teach you how to make Hainanese Chicken the way her mother did. Terror cries at your feet when you tell him he can’t have raw chicken. Sunny pops a bottle of cheap champagne that makes you both grimace and promise one another that you would find an excuse to get a nicer bottle soon. You take turns washing the excess from the face, foot, and hair masks off. Then curl up together on the couch, sipping broth, digging into rice and slathering chicken in Sunny’s family’s super-secret chilli sauce. You both fall asleep at a very respectable eleven o’clock.

So, it’s fucking strange when you wake up feeling like you had spent the night inside a paint mixer.

“Are you okay?” Sunny frowns as she stands over a pan of eggs. “You look ill.”

You squint over your coffee cup, “Soulmate is playing up.”

She plates the eggs next to a small stack of bacon before turning to put a hand to your forehead. “They shouldn’t be making you feel sick, illness doesn’t transfer like that. Are you sure it’s coming from them? Could you just be hung over?”

“It’s definitely him, third weekend in a row, like clockwork.” You take your plate gratefully, “It’s like I always tell you. It’s not nausea. It’s more like…”

“Impossible to explain for you and every medical practitioner you’ve ever seen?”

You groan, “It’s like my brain spent the night trying to escape my skull and the muscles in my neck were in on it.”

“It’s not unheard of for soulmates to feel the repercussions of an intense work out. There was this study from four years ago on high performance athletes and their partners that–”

You groan again, “Oh god and now there’s a nerd in my ear!”  

She tosses a gelatinous bit of egg onto your plate. It lands with a splat that makes you fake gag. “Oh, grow up.”

“You should be nice to me,” You lament, “I’m wounded!”

“Your soulmate is wounded.”

“And I’m sure their best friend is taking very good care of them!”

She pulls a face at you but still takes your plate to the dishwasher for you. As she’s rinsing them, she asks, “What’s on for the rest of your weekend?”

“I got a call from my parents on Thursday and guess what?” You sipped at the cold dregs of your coffee, “The dentist finally figured out which one of them the toothache is coming from!”

“That’s great,” Sunny’s smile was genuine. “They’re going in to get it fixed?”

“Tomorrow morning, both going under local anaesthesia.”

You hip checked her lightly out of the way to rinse both your cups. “You want another coffee?”

Sunny propped herself up on the counter, “My caffeine addiction is rubbing off on you I fear.”

“Listen, we have to get through the day somehow.” You coaxed the machine back to life before leaning against the counter to look at Sunny. “Anyway, my parents were supposed to go to this race tomorrow. Dad is particularly devastated and has practically ordered me to represent the family ‘at our home race.’ It’s been tradition for him and mum since they got married. It’s kind of a big deal for him. The man is obsessive.”

“My parents had something similar to say about our family legacy and studying medicine.”

“Speaking of… You remember all the times I sat up with you studying, or brought you food when you forgot to eat, or ran errands for you, or made sure you took breaks, or–”

“Fine, I get it, I’ll go to the stupid race.”

“Oh, how kind of you to offer.” You passed her one of the cups. “It won’t be that bad. Motorsports are supposed to be fun live, right?”

Sunny snorted, “Thank God. Motorsports? I thought you meant like a horse race or a marathon. I was getting war-flashbacks to track-and-field.”

You put a hand to your heart, “You were willing to relive cross country for me?”

“I was willing to ogle fit, sweaty men for you, definitely.”

“Alright, first of all – fuck you. But also same,” You clinked mugs and nodded solemnly at one another, “Maybe we can find some fit, sweaty drivers to ogle instead.”

Sunny hummed, “What do I wear? Is it like sprint cars or more like V8s – ooh is it an illegal drag race?”

“Girl, no.” You swatted at her thigh, “It’s Formula 1, which is perfectly legal and safe and much faster than any of those options.”

“Alright, Miss Daddy’s-Girl, go off.”

“Shut up, I’ve had to hear him go on and on about it my whole life.” You pulled a face at your coffee. “The man has had a hard-on for Ferrari since before he met my mother, and then he met her in the Ferrari hospitality at an F1 race, and he’s fucking worshipped them ever since.”

“Oh my god, why am I only just hearing about this?” She grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks and cooing. “You’re a little Ferrari baby.”

You blew a rather unladylike raspberry at her and knocked her hand away, “Because it’s embarrassing! Dad was only there because he and his friend won tickets. So, when Ferrari marketing caught wind that soulmates had met in their pavilion, they practically fell over themselves.”

“Holy shit!” Sunny practically howled in delight, “Is that where all those baby pictures of you in little Ferrari onesies came from?”

“Ferrari’s own little fairytale, Mr-won-his-way-in and Miss-heir-to-a-real-estate-monopoly. It's like Romeo and Juliet; if Romeo and Juliet survived, had a kid and decided to make it the poster child of their love story.”

“Don’t sound so disgusted, that’s cute as fuck.” Sunny snatches up your empty cup and stacks it next to hers in the dishwasher.

You frown, “Not everything has to be a love story.”

“I don’t know, girl, I’m pretty sure you just asked me to play out your parents first meeting with you tomorrow.” She winks at you over her shoulder as she heads toward her room.

“Oh, fuck off, Sunny.”

“I think this calls for new outfits!” She emerges from her room, towel over one shoulder. “What was your Mum wearing when she met your dad?”

“We are not reenacting my parents meet-cute.”

“Who knows, maybe you’ll have your own meet-cute with a certain pain-prone soulmate, hm?” In the moment it takes you to reorientate yourself after her comment, she’s breezing past you with a bright, “I’m having first shower!”

You squark in indignation. Like hell, you’ll let either of those things happen to you this weekend.

(Part 2 : Ferrari's Prince - 03.05.24)

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so it features mentions of killing/ injury/ general violence. Soulmate! AU, Enemies to Lovers

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 2,046

A/N: Part of the Good For Your Soul Series. The next part is here, I had so much fun writing the first part that I just couldn't stop thinking about the next chapter of this.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two (here) | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen (coming soon)

——————

Your Marine photo lay on Doflamingo’s desk beside a copy of your file, the information sent through by Vergo in record time. It was sitting waiting to be read the second he returned to Dressrosa. One of the Palace’s doctors tended to your injuries while he withdrew to the peace and quiet of his private quarters to get his mind straight. The entire journey home he couldn’t stop but think about the cause for his powers not working on you. Over and over he tried to make sense of it, nothing added up and the longer he thought about it the more agitated he became, desperate for an answer. Desperate for a cure or a fix or whatever you wanted to call it. No one would get the better of him and certainly not some unknown Marine that came across his path at the wrong time. 

Settling into his chair he pushed your photo aside and flicked open the file, lazily reading over the information. He didn't need to know about your past missions or any of that inconsequential nonsense. Doflamingo was searching for something remarkable, a mention of a Devil Fruit, anything in your parentage that could give him some insight in his search for answers. He felt the vein in the centre of his head throb when nothing jumped out at him. As if sensing his unhappiness, the den-den mushi rang and he lifted the receiver, not even bothering to speak first. Vergo’s voice sounded. “Was the file acceptable Doffy?”

“Acceptable in that it's detailed but not what I was looking for.” Doflamingo snapped your file closed and pinched the corner of your photo between his thumb and finger, lifting it to inspect your appearance blankly. “Could anything have been missed?”

“From what I can see everything is accurate and up to date. Medical history, combat and mission logs, specialised training and skills.” Vergo noted, on his end of the call he was looking at your file too checking over everything to ensure he hadn't missed a page or annotation. “Is there something specific you’d hoped to have known?”

“Devil Fruit ability? Something that would render my skills useless against them.” There was a beat of silence from the other end of the call. Vergo found himself genuinely surprised that someone could be unaffected by his master’s power.

“If they possess a Devil Fruit capable of that, they’ve managed to conceal its existence for as long as they’ve been part of the Marines.” Doflamingo glared at your picture, not satisfied at all. “I’ll look into things on my end just in case someone higher up has intentionally kept certain information out of their file.”

“Good.” Doflamingo ended the call and discarded your photo, in one swift movement he rose from the desk and left his room. He suspected you would be awake by now and he was in no mood to just sit back and wait for Vergo to research things. It was time to ask you directly and if you knew what was good for you, you’d answer his questions. 

He slammed the door open and without needing to say a word the doctor fled the room, leaving him alone to stare down at you as you lay on the bed. You were awake as he suspected and staring blankly at the ceiling. You weren’t restrained and you’d only been in here with the doctor, even with your injuries you were most likely capable of overpowering him and escaping had you wanted but in Doflamingo’s view of the situation you looked bored. “Did any of them survive?”

Doflamingo’s grin appeared at your question and he sat on the edge of the doctor’s desk. Still no begging for your life? Not even a curious ask of where you were or what was going to happen. Instead you were looking for confirmation of your unit’s status. “Every single one of them died.” He tilted his head to see you nod in acceptance. “No tears to shed for them?”

“I’ll mourn them privately if I live long enough.” You told him stiffly, training you gaze on the ceiling, refusing to look at the man whose presence filled the room intensely. The memory of what happened at the warehouse was fresh enough and you didn’t need to look at the Warlord. Perhaps if you didn’t feed into his sick entertainment of tormenting you, he’d grow bored and kill you quick. You’d reasoned that was why you were still alive, you’d fallen unconscious too soon before he had his fun. “You’ve been keeping me alive for a reason.”

“I want answers about your power.” Doflamingo told you, grinning wider to see you slowly look at him at last. Your expression was unreadable but the fact you finally looked at him felt like confirmation that you knew what he was talking about. “Born with it or is it a Devil Fruit?”

“I don’t have any power.” You answered, confusion evident in your tone. Doflamingo’s jaw clenched, you were a skilled liar. You had to be because for a second he almost believed you. “You wasted resources in healing me. I can’t tell you anything about something I don’t have.”

“I’m trying to be patient here. You can stop lying about your ability I saw it for myself.”

“Then you were imagining things. I don’t have any-” You were cut off when Doflamingo was across the room and lifting you into the air so you were eye level with him, his hand tightly around your throat. You could feel the strength in his grip, the power but you didn’t feel any pain. Was he just trying to intimidate you? To let you feel the ultimate control he had over himself when he could easily snap your neck or squeeze the life out of you. In a way you wanted it to be quick, being a prisoner and dragging out the torment was not ideal. With a heavy sigh you could only repeat. “I don’t have any power.”

Doflamingo felt the rage building in him once again. Even now you lied to his face so blatantly? He had put enough force into his hold to choke you, to at least make you squirm and hold some fear for your life and yet you didn’t react. You didn’t even twitch or try to struggle for breath as it still came to you so easily. It wasn’t just his powers or using a weapon, his own strength failed him around you. He was incapable of harming you.

Keeping you in his hold he turned and left the room, ignoring the frightened and scrambling servants who leapt out of his way and bowed lowly until he passed. Even his subordinates from the lowest rank to some of his elites didn’t even register in his mind not even when they called after him and followed close behind. At this point in time he was in search of only one other person who could give him some clear insight. Bursting into one of the drawing rooms he locked eyes on the former Princess of Dressrosa. “Violet. Your power now.” He growled as he dropped you onto the plush armchair. “I want to know the truth of their ability.”

You looked at the woman who stepped forward, remaining silent as she made a circle with her thumb and finger and peered at you intensely. If only you knew what power or ability Doflamingo was so adamant you possessed, at least then you’d have some idea of what was going on. One moment you were a Marine, just doing your job and now you sat in the home of a feared Warlord completely clueless. You jumped when Violet let out a shocked, strangled yell. Even Doflamingo tensed at the sound and he stared at her hard. “What do you see?”

“It’s not possible.” She whispered, not just looking at you but also Doflamingo with equal shock and disbelief. “Never thought I'd see such a thing.”

“Stop the riddles Violet, what’s their ability and how do we reverse it?” Your head snapped up to him and you frowned heavily. Reverse? What had to be reversed? Did something happen while you were unconscious? Could it have been something to do with what was in the warehouse before it exploded. Had remnants of some weird substance gotten on you? 

“It’s not an ability…it’s something bigger than that. It’s fate.” She whispered and Doflamingo scoffed in annoyance, his fingers flexing. He was getting agitated and if he didn’t get answers soon, a lot of people were going to get sliced. “I swear! It’s the only way I can explain what I see. The two of you are connected. It’s not at the mind or heart…it’s deeper. Your souls are bound to each other.”

Now it was your turn to scoff. No, this had to be some trick. Some sort of bizarre theatrics planned while you were unconscious. You still didn’t know how long you’d been asleep for, it was likely they kept you sedated in order to perfect these performances although for what end you couldn’t tell. You weren’t high ranking enough to be of any use to Doflamingo and he was a Warlord and a King of an entire island. He had enough power and influence as it was. Just what was going on and why of all things go with the ‘connected at the soul’ nonsense? The existence of soulmates had been recorded a few times throughout the world’s history but it was extremely rare to the point it was considered myth. Violet seemed exasperated at not being believed and looked to Doflamingo. “You’ve tried to kill them already?”

“A few times.” He answered tightly. First at the warehouse with his strings, then with your gun, then again in the doctor’s room. You didn’t even bruise in any of the attempts. Behind his bright glasses he looked down at you out of the corner of his eyes, noting you didn't seem surprised by his admission. Instead you looked confused about how you were still alive. You shook your head, still not convinced by any of this. No, this wasn't happening. You jolted in your seat as the sound of gunfire sounded loudly above you. 

Slowly you tilted your head up to meet the smoking barrel of the gun that had been aimed directly with the top of your head, the weapon held steadily and unwaveringly in Doflamingo’s grip. There was no missing with that proximity but you were alive, you hadn’t even been grazed by any of the bullets. Swallowing hard your body began to shake, not out of fear of the weapon but by the undeniable truth of the situation. You glanced down to see the bullets on the ground, the pathway they would have had to take to land beside the chair was impossible but there they were. You were protected from any harm by Doflamingo's hand by fate as Violet said. 

Both of you had the answer now and neither of you liked it. Those that were in the room that had been there to witness the truth of the matter for themselves were stunned and silent. To see the existence of a soulmate and the rumoured power it had for the pair would be something they would never forget. For some it was also an extra thread of proof that their master, Doflamingo was truly amazing to have a soulmate. With a growl, Doflamingo threw the gun across the room, letting it smash through the antique vase and send the roses it held scattering onto the floor. Then a sound filled the room, you began to laugh. You couldn’t help it. The sheer absurdity of it all and the weight of this new reality was too much. It was like some higher power had decided to play the cruelest joke imaginable on you and you finally got the punchline. 

“So what’s the plan?” You asked, looking at your ‘soulmate’ expectantly. “Do I go home and we pretend this isn’t happening? Or do you have another idea?”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Doflamingo’s statement was firm and quicker than you anticipated. You could only nod slightly and glance once more at the bullets on the floor.   

“Thought as much.”

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

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

hey so i finally wrote more witch au!

enjoy, friends!! though it's significantly shorter than the first part

pairing: steddie | word count: 2,004 | rated: T

Mama thinks that Steve’s had a love spell on him this whole time.

“Since when?” He’d asked.

“I don’t know, my dear, maybe since before you were even born.”

“What?! How?! I thought you said there was no such thing as love spells!” He knows that’s not true.

“There are none that are worth the pain.” she repeats, trying to placate him.

“Yeah, well.” Steve huffs, dropping his hands to his hips and heaving a sigh.

“But there are some that are rumored to be true love spells, soulmate spells.” She continues on when she sees the look on his face. “Rumored, Steven, only ever rumors.”

“Okay, so what do the rumors have to say about them?”

“Every spell like that I’ve ever heard of of this nature is specific to each caster.”

“So I’ve had this spell on me for possibly my whole life, and there’s no way to know anything about it or about the caster.”

“...I’m sorry, honey.”

“Maybe there are clues in the words you have.” Robin cuts in, reaching for the notepad and sliding it in front of her.

Steve huffs, “I need to know the whole thing; there’s definitely words missing.”

“Should you eat more bread?” Robin asks, already sliding the previously abandoned plate of bread towards him.

“You shouldn’t overwhelm yourself.” Mama says, pushing the plate back. “We don’t know if there’s a trigger to the spell, or if you and the caster’s paths will just cross one day, maybe they don’t even know they cast it.”

Steve blinks at her. “So I have a true love and they might not even want me?”

“No!” Robin belts out immediately.

“No, of course not,” Mama says, continuing on. “The one known thing about any spell like this is that they only work on those who are receptive to it.”

“So some weirdo can’t put you under their spell?”

“Yes, exactly Robin; Steve, whatever this is, whoever this was, they love you with all that they are. And you them.”

“I don’t even know who it is! How can I?”

Mama doesn’t have an answer besides saying “Your soul must know them already.”; Their conversation was over soon after that.

Steve spends the next couple days silent and brooding. He can’t stop thinking about how he’s what, marked to love someone he doesn’t even know? How’s that fair?

It could be any random person on the street that thought he was hot, some weird old guy or a lovesick middle schooler..He only just turned 25 the day before the bread incident, but he’s saddled with this huge unknown that isn’t going to get better any time soon?

Okay, apparently not just some weirdo according to Mama, but still. Un-fucking fair all the same.

He’s also pissed that he can’t give anyone all the baked goods he’s made within that time. Each and every one of them ending up with a sour aftertaste. 

“Damn witch bullshit…” he grumbles to himself, only half serious, as he scrapes another batch of sour sugar cookies into the trash.

He’s salty, okay? Pun intended. If he hadn’t ever learned the truth about the powers over food his grandmother (and now him too, apparently) has, he could’ve just excused the batch after batch being off on bad butter, or old flour.. Something other than his mood being what’s ruining his cookies.

That’s what he’d done every other time something he’s made tasted off, now he knows it was him the whole time.

Mama comes in then, he doesn’t have to look up to know the look she’s giving him.

Steve leaves the bowl of leftover dough on the counter, mumbles out a “I gotta go.”, then tromps out the back door and into the woods behind his grandparents’ home. 

He supposes it’s good that they live just outside the city, really, having the trees to escape under like this has helped him before, and he’s hoping will help him now.

Meandering through the underbrush, he strolls along until he reaches the small clearing he’d claimed for himself when he was what, 8? 9? Doesn’t matter. It’s his spot to get away from anything he needs to.

He sits down against the big oak at the edge of the clearing and tips his head back toward the sun filtering down on him through a gap in the canopy above him. He breathes in the fresh air, focuses on the warmth hitting his face, and just exists there for a while, slipping in and out of a soft snooze.

Suddenly, he’s shocked out of his dozing by the sound of twigs snapping underfoot.

If it were coming from behind him, he’d expect it’d be Robin coming to find him here, but it’s not. It’s coming from ahead of him across the clearing.

Steve stands and presses back into the trunk of the tree, wondering if there’s bears in these woods when a person stumbles through the tree line.

The man is thin, about Steve’s age if he were to guess, and covered in dirt, his light wash overalls and his boots are caked in it. His hair is long, pulled half-back away from his face and full of bracken from the forest.

He also seems to be in a daze, staring with dark eyes at Steve with an unfathomable expression. 

It shifts soon after, though, warming into a watery smile. “I’ve come home to you.” he says, clear as day, then collapses onto the grass.

“Oh, shit!” Steve rushes forward, kneeling down beside the man and quickly checking him over for injuries. 

Steve presses his fingers to the man's pulse confirm it's still there (it is) and there don’t seem to be any bruises or breaks in his limbs, so he goes to his head, feeling quickly under the tangles in his hair for any blood, any knots.

Nothing. There’s nothing apparently outwardly wrong with him.

“Hey, hey, wake up! You gotta stay with me, man.” he says, shaking him lightly. 

The other man’s head lolls to the side and his eyes open a crack, his lips quirking up into a smile. “M’love…”

“What is your name?” Steve insists in a slow, clear voice.

Instead of answering, the man raises his hand slowly to cup Steve’s cheek. “...v’wait’d so long..” he slurs, then goes limp again, his hand dropping to his chest.

“Oh no you don’t,” Steve gets his feet under him and gathers the man up into his arms in a bridal carry. His steps falter when he feels how light the man is in his arms, how much more thin he is than how he’d looked.

Steve adjusts his hold on him, making sure not to let his head hang backward over his forearm, and rushes back toward the house.

“Mama!” he shouts as soon as he clears the treeline into the yard.

She’s at the back sliding door as soon as he is. “Steve, honey, what—”

He pushes past her, hurrying to the spare room on the first floor with her on his heels. “I found him wandering the woods, I couldn’t just–I don’t know what’s wrong with him, Mama.”

She gestures him forward to the bed, “Put him there, on top the covers,”

He does, setting him down as if he’s made of glass.

As soon as the man is out of his arms, Mama takes his place. “Nothing seems broken, but he’s so light, he needs food, he needs water, should I call 911? I don’t even know his na—” he rambles on, not even realizing he’d started to pace until his grandma stops him in his tracks.

“Steve, listen to me.” she says, pulling at his wrists gently, removing his hands from his hair. “He will be fine. Now, go get a bowl of warm water and a washcloth and come straight back here.”

He nods dazedly, stumbling backward out the doorway and spinning to the kitchen.

Steve slides to a stop on the tile floor in front of the kitchen sink at the same time Robin gets home from her classes that day.

“I have a date!”

Wait, he needs the bowl first. He scrambles to the opposite counter for the large mixing bowl Mama uses for her damn bread and fishes it out with a clatter of everything that that had been in front of it on the shelf tumbling out to the floor.

“Steve?”

Should he put soap in it?

“Steve!”

No, Mama just said ‘warm water’, not ‘warm soapy water’. He nods to himself and turns on the tap, reaching under the sink next for a washcloth.

“Steven Otis Harrington.”

“Oh, hey Robin, you’re home.” The bowl’s almost full.

“Steve.” She spins him to face her, holding tightly to his shoulders.

He tries to twist back around futilely, “The bowl–”

“Steve. What. Is. Happening.”

He blinks at her a couple times. “Robin!” He pulls her to him in a tight hug. “Holy shit, you’re not gonna believe–”

“Steve, the bowl?”

“Shit,” It’s nearly full when he shuts off the tap, so he dumps a bit out and picks it up with both hands, “C’mon, he’s this way.”

“He? Who’s he?”

“Dunno, I found him in the woods.”

“Aw, Steve, you can’t just take in any ol’ stray dog you happen to find out in the wood—-” Robin cuts herself off as they get to the bedroom door. “Ohhkay…so..not a dog.”

“He looks to be dehydrated, but I don’t think he has any injuries.” Mama says in lieu of a greeting when they return. Steve sits down on the opposite edge of the bed that she is, and carefully passes over the bowl of water without looking at her.

The stranger immediately takes in his attention. His soft features, dark brows…Steve starts to pull the bits of brush out of the man’s hair, untangling twigs, leaves, and he can already see one of those pesky prickle things twisted into the hair next to his ear.

Mama sets the bowl on the sidetable, and gets to work immediately, wiping the dirt and grime from the man’s face and arms. “Robin dear, can you grab one of those sports drinks Pa loves so much outta the fridge? And a bottle of water.”

“Of course!” she says, darting back into the kitchen.

“We’ll need to get some food in him too,”

“We should make him scones.” Steve states apropos of nothing. “With chocolate chunks.”

“Maybe after he’s a bit better, sweetie.” Mama scoffs, wringing out the washcloth. “He needs healthy fats first, butter, oatmeal, avocado, things like that.”

“I can do that!” Steve says, jumping up excitedly. His former task forgotten, he rushes out of the bedroom and to the kitchen, nearly bowling Robin over in the process.

He gets to work on simple eggs and toast for their houseguest, avoiding Mama’s lucky bread in favor of his own store-bought stuff for now, he can make him his own later. 

As he scrambles the eggs, he focuses everything in him on the stranger, on getting him better, making him healthy again. He’s not exactly quite sure how to do what Mama does, but the sour cookie dough says he’ll do it without thinking about it…kinda.

Whatever. 

All he knows is that he’s telling the fuck outta these eggs to make his love better. Make him whole again.. Make him—

Wait..

Did he just refer to the random man laid up in the other room as his love?

Is…

The fugue state he’d been in since first laying eyes on the man crackles away just long enough for him to think.

What did he say before he collapsed? "I've come home to you."?

That..sounds right....why is that so famili—

Steve's eyes leave the pan of eggs in front of him and snap immediately to the scrap of paper he'd scrambled for a few nights ago.

Is he…?

And of course, as if the words weren't already plastered permanently onto his grey matter, there they are, plain as day.

tagging those that were interested on the last part!!! @mugloversonly @kittydeadbones @maybequizas @queenie-ofthe-void @newtstabber @angeldreamsoffanfic @eyesofshinigami @sunflower-trashbaby @perseus-notjackson @kaspurrcat @quinns-shadowy-arts

also, idk if this counts for it, but one of february's songs for @steddiesongfics is work song! which is what this fic is based on! 😊😊

[dragon-kazansky]

Heart of the Dreaming

Morpheus x Female Reader

Soulmate AU

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Three - Mr Sandman

☆☆☆

Dream woke up in his realm. He was home at last. He had been away for far too long, and he had missed his home. Not only that, a familiar face was here to greet him. Lucienne. She was always so loyal to him.

"Lucienne."

"My lord, you're home!"

She helps him up to his feet, and he turns to look at the grand gates of his realm. Home.

Lucienne and Dream walk toward the gates. Before he can open the gates, Lucienne speaks to him. She looks rather forlorn. "Forgive me, sir, but the realm, the palace, they are not as you left them."

The gates open, and he can see what she means. His realm was falling apart. The sight pained him. "What happened here? Who did this?"

"My lord, you are The Dreaming. The Dreaming is you. With you gone as long as you were, the realm began to decay and crumble."

"And the residents?" He asks softly. "The palace staff?"

"I'm afraid most are gone."

"Gone?"

"Some went looking for you." Lucienne tells him.

"And the others?"

"They thought, perhaps, you had grown weary of your duties, and..."

"What? Abandoned them? Had they had so little faith in me? Had my own subjects not known me?" He asks. He didn't want to believe his people would abandon their realm, their home. He certainly hadn't meant to.

Morpheus and Lucienne headed toward the palace. There was debris everywhere. His kingdom was crumbling around him, and he hated it.

He stood in his throne room. There wasn't much left of it. This room had once been so beautiful and put together, designed by his hand. Now, it was a ghost of what it used to be. Shattered glass and stone covered the floor, crunching under his feet as he walked.

Lucienne watched her lord as he took it all in. Though she had stayed to look after the kingdom, there was only so much she could do. Without Dream, the kingdom couldn't last. If an Endless abandoned their realm, it would fall apart and eventually fade.

Morpheus picked up a shard of glass from beneath his feet and held it in his hand. He raised his hand and tried to summon enough power to rebuild his throne room. The debris began to rise from the ground, but it was taking all his strength to even do that. Eventually, he felt go and collapsed to the ground. He was too weak.

"You need rest and food, and perhaps a bit more rest, and then you'll be at full strength."

"No. Not without my tools." He picks himself back up.

"Your tools?"

"My sand, my helm, my ruby," he lists.

"What happened to them?"

"They were taken from me. By my captors. And then taken from them. I know not where. Nor what I am without them."

He sits down on the steps of his throne and looks up at Lucienne. He needed to update her on you. He reaches for his wrist and rubs his scar gently.

"Lucienne, there is something I need to tell you about."

"Yes, sir?" She stands there and gives him her full attention.

"There was someone in that house. Where I was trapped. Someone I need to get to." He looks down at the star scar.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you know of soulmate bonds?" He asks her quietly.

"Soulmate bonds?" She sounds rather surprised by his questions. He's never really brought up anything like this before. "I understand that some humans believe their soulmates to be the one they connect with the most. A special connection is made between two people. Something special."

"What do you know of soulmates regardless the Endless?" He asks her.

"Sir?"

"It's rare. It's so rare that only I have one." He tells her. "This scar," he rubs his thumb over it, "is my bond with her."

Lucienne listens with great interest. She wasn't aware such things were real, just a feeling some people got.

"She is down there now. In that house. I saw her." His voice has softened. He seems to be away with his thoughts. "She came down to see me, and something happened. She relieved her scar. It burned into our flesh, and I knew who she was immediately. It would seem she stopped ageing and her brother kept her locked up in her room, much like I was locked up in that basement."

Dream felt angry. Angry for being trapped for so long. Angry that the people who kept him caged had gone and done the same thing to you. Angry that he couldn't have stayed to convince you to take his hand in that one moment. Not that he could blame you. You didn't know him. He saw your fear.

He would make it up to you, he promised.

"I need enough power to return to the waking world so I may get her and my tools."

"You need rest."

"I have little time for that. Please, Lucienne. Is there anything lf mine in the Dreaming? Something I created."

"There is one thing."

☆☆☆

What he did to Gregory was not something he wanted to do, but it had to be done. He would forever be sorry for what he did. He would make it up to Cain and Abel for taking their friend from them.

Next, he needed to summon the Fates. They were not easy to summon, but Dream knew exactly what he needed to do.

Three questions. Three answers.

"My first question. I had a leather pouch filled with sand. Where is it?" He asks.

"It was sold. In London. Last purchased by a magic user called Joanna Constantine."

"Constatine. I knew a Constantine, but that was 300 years ago. Does she still have the sand?"

"Dream. You know better than that. You get one question and one answer."

"My apologies. My second question. My helm. What happened to it?"

"It was traded away to a demon. For the amulet of protection."

"To which demon was it traded?"

"One question. One answer, love."

"Last question. My ruby. Who holds it now?"

"Your gem was passed from a mother to a son."

"Where are they now?"

"You have asked your questions!" The Fates disappear. Morpheus is left standing alone with all the answers he was given.

The egg he picked up was the only thing not taken by the Fates, mainly because it was not for them. He left they with Cain and Abel as his apology for Gregory.

Now that he knew where his tools were, to an extent, he could leave. His tools could wait a little longer. He had one more trip to make before them.

You.

He needed to find you, and there was only one way he could do that. He returned to the dock and looked back down into the waters of dreams. This was how he found what he needed for the Fates, and it also how he will find you.

"Please, sir, be careful." Lucienne looked at him with concern.

"I shall. I will not let myself be captured again."

"I mean... can you trust this woman? She is one of them."

Dream looked at Lucienne over his shoulder. "All will be well."

Lucienne had nothing else to say. She watched him disappear into the waters again.

The waters were still rough and dangerous, but he still had a portion of his power within him, which he would use to find you. You should be asleep by now. He needs to find your dreams.

You were the clearest thing in those waters.

☆☆☆

You hadn't slept in hours. The dream man had been gone an entire day already. You had spent the whole day in your room just thinking everything over.

Paul had spent the entire beside Alex.

Sleeping sickness. That's what he called it. The eternal sleep. Alex wouldn't ever wake up again. You couldn't bring yourself to care too much. Alex hadn't been your brother in many years. You had long since learnt to stop caring.

You felt tired. Your mind was tired.

How long had you been staring at your ceiling? You had lost count. Your eyelids were staring to feel heavy, that much you knew. You had tuned out the rest of the house.

Before you knew it, you were dosing off.

You gave in and fell asleep.

You were dreaming. Not of the basement this time. No. Now that he was free and gone, you should have known he probably wouldn't appear in your dreams again.

This time you're in a garden. Your garden. You're 11 years old again. Your father is about to start his ritual. However, this time, you're not in your room. You're down there with him. The men in robes surround the circle. Rodrick looks down at you, his haze stern and cold.

"Watch."

You do watch. You keep your eyes on the summoning circles. Tonight, your father was going to try and bring your brother back by bargaining with death. It sounded crazy. Of course it did. No one comes back from the dead. No one.

You're afraid. The ritual had begun, and you hate it. Your father doesn't even try and comfort you. Of course he doesn't. He doesn't love you.

A figure appears in the circle, and you have to force yourself not to scream in fright. The figure is wearing a long cloak that covers him fully, and on his head is a strange mask. At least, you hope it's a mask.

Your father has the mask removed after taking its things. Is this death? You can't see his face clearly. It looks like a man, though. He doesn't move or make a sound.

You run. You have to run. Whatever it is, you don't want to be around it anymore. You run as fast as you can. The house seems so much bigger than you remember it being. You go round corners and don't seem to be any closer to your room.

You run straight into someone. You scream. You no longer sound like a child. You look up and see the man standing there. He's wearing a black coat now.

"Wake up."

His voice is deep. Unlike anything you'd heard before. Your heart was racing and you had frozen.

"Wake up."

"I can't."

The man lifts his hand up toward you, hand out like the night he escaped. You remember it all because this is a dream. He takes a step closer and you move back, tripping over nothing and falling to the ground.

You gasp and sit up in your bed. Your breathing is uneven, and your heart is racing. Sweat clings to your skin.

You freeze.

Slowly, you move your eyes to the left and then find yourself scrambling off the bed and as far away from him as possible. You keep your back to the wall as you stare at the man in your room.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" You ask, panic definitely setting in.

"I am not here to hurt you."

"Why are you here? Why did you come back?" You ask quickly.

"I am Lord Morpheus, but you can call me Dream. That is my true name."

"Dream?"

"Yes. I came back here for you," he says quite firmly.

"Me? Why? I wasn't the one that kept you trapped down there. I didn't hurt you. I had nothing to do with anything!" You sound quite urgent. Desperate. You're clearly frightened.

"I know."

"Then why? Why are you here?"

"I came for you." He puts it so simply.

"Why?" You ask again.

"Your wrist. Let me see it."

You automatically cradle your wrist to your chest and look at him with a wary expression. You know exactly what he wants to see.

You hear him exhale quietly and watch as he lifts his arm up. He pulls up his sleeve and shows you his wrist. You gasp softly at the sight. Slowly, you bring your wrist up to his and look at the matching scar.

"What is it?" You ask softly.

"Our bond. You are rare."

"Rare?" You look up and meet his eyes. They're so blue.

"You are the soulmate of an Endless," he tells you. "My soulmate."

You can't help it. You burst out into laughter. Dream looks very confused by your reaction. Of all things that could happen, he didn't think you would start laughing.

"That's insane."

"I do not understand," be watches you curiously. His confusion only deepened.

"What the heck is an Endless?" You ask.

"I am. I am one of seven. We exist because you know deep down we exist. I am the king of dreams and nightmares. The Sandman, if you like."

"The Sandman?" You scoff softly. "He's a fairytale."

"Perhaps." He looks almost amused.

"And, what? I'm your destined partner or something?"

"In a sense."

"Absolutely not," you tell him, inching along the wall carefully. If you could reach the door you could find Paul.

"You are rejecting me?"

"Sure, if that's how you want to put it. I don't want anything to do with any of this."

"You came down to the basement," he says, though of course you already knew that. It was you, after all. "Were you not curious?"

"Well, yes. My father had summoned something, and it was living under our house. I wanted to see, but I wasn't expecting you. Then you looked at me and I was scared. What did you do to me?"

"Nothing."

"You must have!" You exclaim. "Look at me! I should be about 85 now. Do I look 85 to you?"

Dream doesn't move from where he stands as you slowly inch around the room toward the door. If you run, he'll let you, but if he can keep you in here, he will try.

"No."

"You did this to me!"

"Not intentionally. This happened because of our bond. I cannot stay here. I need to find my tools. I want you to come with me."

"Why should I? I don't understand any of this. Please." You look sad. Afraid. He doesn't want you to be afraid.

"I will not hurt you. I want to take you to my realm."

"Your realm?"

"The Dreaming," he clarifies.

"I'm so confused..."

"I understand. Everything will become clear if you come with me. You must know. You must feel it. That burn."

You look down at your wrist and run your fingers over the star softly. "Yeah. I feel it. You really mean everything you said? That we're fated or something?"

"Yes. It is unfair, I understand. You haven't been given a choice."

"Why me?" You ask.

"I do not know. I cannot question Destiny. I can only hear what he has to say, and I believe this is part of it."

"Destiny? You speak like that's a person."

"He is. My brother."

"Dream. Destiny. Death?"

"Yes. My sister."

"Oh... So, Father really was trying to summon Death. He got you instead." Some things were starting to make sense.

"Yes."

You look at him, less frightened now, but still full of questions. He could see it in your eyes. If you wanted to ask them, he would answer, but not here.

He raises his hand.

"Come with me."

"Where?"

"To London. I must get my sand."

"Sand? You really are the Sandman?"

He nods his head subtly.

"If you come with me, you'll never be locked away in a room again. You can come and go as you please."

Freedom. He is offering you freedom.

"In your realm?"

"You will be safe there," he assures you.

You close your eyes and think about it all. Alex wouldn't be a problem either way now, but you could be free of this house. Free of any trace of your father and all the things he had done. Free from your past, your imprisonment in this room.

Dream holds his hand out again. You stare at it. He is your one chance to get away from the Burgess name.

You take his hand.

☆☆☆

@deniixlovezelda - @missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @meganlpie - @thoughtsfromlayla - @ladyjbrekker

@mwaaaaaugh - @bluespecs14 - @intothesoul - @lady-violet - @navs-bhat - @krahk - @oldsoulmagic

@rubyrose2014 - @lorkai - @roxytheimmortal - @thescarletwitchjobro - @intothesoul - @gemini-mama - @whotperlinda

@dreamingblueberries - @the-shadow-of-aurora - @novavida - @blackgirlmagicforever

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 - @hopshusushi -

[jackiehicks]

Written In The Stars

Wyatt Lykensen x Reader

request: wyatt x werewolf!reader and them finding out they're each other's mates (maybe they both have matching markings??)

A/N: this one was kinda fun!! i was stumped at first bc i’m not big on soulmate au’s and i’ve never written a werewolf reader before, but i made it there in the end. i attached a pic of what i imagined the mark to look like when i was writing at the end teehee. i also took some creative liberty with this one, i decided to go for a soulmate thing instead of them being typical wolf mates or whatever, plus the reader is gender neutral so you can read this however you want to perceive it! i hope you guys enjoy <3

words: 1.3k

content warnings: very light mentions of sex

in old wolf legend, there was the story of soulmates. on the 18th birthday of a wolf, they would get a marking on their hand. if two marked wolves were to share genuine love for each other in an embrace, the mark would glow to signify their souls being intertwined. if no glowing occurs, they cannot be soulmates. however, soulmate markings are only for werewolves. if one’s soulmate is not a wolf, no mark will appear. in today’s society, a wolf with a soulmate mark was rare. especially in seabrook, a town where werewolves live in harmony with humans, zombies, and aliens.

so on the 18th birthday of the lykensen twins, when a soulmate mark appeared on the hand of wyatt lykensen, everything changed.

-

wyatt inspected the mark on his hand for the millionth time that day. he liked how it looked - the design was intricate with overlapping lines and little triangles hidden in it - but despite that, he hated everything about it. the mark was a burden. every wolf his age was suddenly trying to make some sort of love connection with him in hopes that he would be their soulmate. half of them didn’t even have their soulmate marks yet.

wyatt wouldn’t have minded if it was because they wanted to be with him, but he knew it wasn’t that. his sister was the alpha werewolf, making him second in command. they wanted his power and his position within the pack. he knew that if willa had received a mark then all of this attention would be on her, but willa had already found a soulmate in a-spen. that’s what wyatt wanted. not some sort of forced relationship because of a magical tattoo, he wanted the kind of love that you would travel galaxies to find.

he sighed, looking away from his mark for the first time in what felt like hours. he was sitting on the top of the wolf-den, under the stars. when he was little, he would sit up here and try to make words and shapes out of the stars. he looked up at the night sky, inspecting something new for the first time all day. soulmates were supposed to be written in the stars, right? maybe he could find a clue up there…

“BOO!” came a voice from behind him. wyatt jumped, startled, then let out a sigh of relief when he saw it was only y/n, his best friend since they were pups.

“what is it with you and scaring me?”

y/n shrugged, sitting down next to him, “it’s fun.”

“yeah, for you.”

“shut up, you know you love me.”

wyatt looked back up at the stars, raking an exasperated hand through his hair.

“you’ve got that look about you again.” y/n nudged him with their shoulder.

“yeah… it’s-“

“the mark? dude, it’ll be fine.”

“i know, but… why did it have to be me?”

“don’t complain so much, you’ve got 20 age-appropriate werewolves trying to jump your bones. even waverley is trying to get a piece of you, and waverley is hot. who wouldn’t want that?”

“me, y/n. also, gross - don’t talk about jumping bones. i’m having a crisis here.”

y/n leaned back on their elbows, “yeah, but you need to lighten up - what better way to do that than to be wildly inappropriate?”

wyatt chuckled and looked at the rocks below him.

“see, there’s a smile!” y/n nudged him again, “and hey, at least you know now that you have a soulmate. i’m 18 in like… a month. i’m still in the process of wondering if my soulmate even exists.”

-

the weeks passed quickly. there weren’t many 18th birthdays so soon after wyatt and willa, only waverley - the really good-looking it-wolf of the pack. no mark appeared on waverley’s hand, to wyatt’s secret delight. waverley was cute and all, but he wasn’t interested. the werewolves that had tried to make a love connection with wyatt had all given up, deciding that it was a whole lot of work for something that wasn’t even that important. he was relieved in the end; he had started to get real sick of hugging.

it felt like no time had passed until it was the night before y/n’s birthday. wyatt was looking all over the wolf den for his friend, nowhere to be found. it was late, everyone else was asleep. he stepped outside of the cave when he heard a frustrated sigh from above him. he didn’t even have to look before he knew that he had found y/n. wyatt climbed up the front of the cave, hoping to scare the birthday wolf. he was met with a pebble to the head as he jumped up.

“ow?? why are you throwing stones??”

“sorry wy, i’m not having a great time up here and there are a bunch of loose rocks.”

wyatt clambered up and sat himself next to y/n. “every year, i forget just how much you hate birthdays.”

“why do birthdays have to be so weird? i don’t want all the attention on me. it’s gonna be so much worse this year with these stupid soulmate marks…”

“it’s really not that bad. plus, there’s like 6 of us with markings, so it’s not even a common thing.”

“i guess you’re right… i mean, i don’t know how i feel about even, like, the concept of soulmates. like, to be tied to one person for the rest of your life? i’ve never even been in a relationship. that’s terrifying.”

“yeah, i hear that. i don’t know, i hated it too when i first got it. i kinda find comfort in it now, though. like, there’s someone out there who is for me and will understand me and look out for me, and they’ll be there for the rest of our lives. something about that is reassuring, don’t you think?”

y/n scoffed at that. “it’s creepy! ‘ooh, we’re soulmates, i don’t know you and you don’t know me but i’m gonna love you and be there for you forever and ever and ever until we die’.” y/n shuddered, “super creepy.”

wyatt couldn’t help but laugh. “don’t be such a drama-wolf. it’ll be fine.”

y/n smiled, but the smile quickly faded into a melancholy sadness.

“hey,” wyatt started, “don’t be worried. soulmate or no soulmate, you got me. i’m here for you. nothing’s gonna change that.”

he could hear y/n’s silent tears in the night-time silence. wyatt put his arm around his dear friend, and y/n’s head sank into the crook of his neck. they sat like that for a while, until wyatt noticed a glowing golden light out of the corner of his eye.

“hey, what’s that?” he asked. y/n sat up, and the light moved. wyatt looked at his hand, and the delicate marking on his hand was shining a stunning ethereal gold. it looked beautiful. he heard y/n gasp gently, looking at the mark that had appeared on their own hand. y/n checked the time on her phone.

“12.02am. it’s my birthday.”

“you have a mark.”

“we didn’t even notice.”

“you have a mark.”

y/n tore their eyes away from the marking, which was now glittering a more subtle gold.

“it was-“

“i can’t believe-“

the two laughed lightly as they talked over eachother.

“this whole time,” wyatt began, “this whole time, i’ve been worrying who my soulmate could be. i didn’t even think… y/n…”

“we’ve been inseparable since, like, forever. god, it was the most obvious thing in the world! are we stupid?”

they laughed, revelling in this new and exciting feeling.

“we’re idiots.”

they looked up at the night sky once again, entangled in each other’s arms, and wyatt could swear he saw a glimmer of y/n’s smile gazing down at him.

[hxzbinwrites]

Hi! 👋

I just read your Vox soulmate AU and I LOVED it. If you're still taking requests, could you do something similar with Husk but his soulmate has powers like scarlet witch. His soulmate is very protective and sweet on the winged kitty. Maybe throw in a kiss or two 😘.

If not, it's cool. Keep up the great work and can't wait to read more!

Husk x Soulmate! Reader | Saving Me

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, Short :(

Sighing, Husk watched as Charlie and Vaggie cuddled together on the couch in the lobby. After everything, the lies and heartbreak, they still were okay. They still loved each other.

Husk has had his soulmate string for a while now, but Alastor prevented him from leaving to go chase it. It was worse than not having one at all, seeing that stupid string tug and beg for him to find his match, his other half.

His tired eyes looked down at his cup, his rag scrubbing the inside of it. He really wished that stupid damn deer would kick the bucket already.

“Husk!” Charlie said, looking over at the grouchy cat.

He raised an eyebrow, looking up at the Princess from under his eyelashes.

“Now that the hotel is revamped, do you think you could put some of these flyers out? Especially because it’s rent free!”

“I guess.” He said, taking the flyers.

————

When everyone was having dinner together, a strong knock on the door was heard.

Charlie sprinted over to the door, excited to meet a potential new client of their hotel.

The door revealed a woman standing there, an Halloween-like Witch costume on her.

“I’m here for this…’Hazbin Hotel’” She said, extending a hand to Charlie,”My name is (Y/n), I’m a witch. I was as well when I was alive, hence the costume I fell down with. I think it’s cute nonetheless.”

Charlie’s squeals of excitement alerted everyone at the dinner table. Mostly everyone was walking over to investigate, except for Husk. He sat there at the table, uninterested. Last thing he needs is some other annoying person pestering him, he’s got his paws full with Alastor’s bullshit and Angel’s hormones.

He ignored the crowd as they went to go show the newbie their room, walking back towards the bar to wash the remaining dirty cups.

“Husker~!” Alastor said, popping up out of thin air like the freak he is

Husk’s ears were pinned back against his head, his frown evident. “What?”

“You haven’t welcomed our guest!” He said, his head tilting menacingly. “I think you should.”

Husk, running a paw through his fluffy fur on the top of his head, sighed. “I gotta finish my job here first. You made me come here, you bastard.”

“Hmm.” Alastor said, glaring at him over his shoulder,”Alright! Just make sure you treat them well, you’re still on a leash, pet.”

Husk didn’t reply, just focusing on his job as Alastor met the rest of the crew at the end of the tour.

Husk looked up at the newbie, immediately dropping the class, letting it shatter on the ground.

“Husk!” Charlie said,”are you okay?!”

He didn’t reply, looking into his soulmates eyes. Finally, he finally found them. He could cry like a baby right now. He quickly walked around the counter of the bar, drowning out everyone’s concerned comments.

Everyone stopped talking when he stopped right in front of the newbie, before dipping them and kissing them deeply. Husk felt like he couldn’t bring them any closer, that nothing was close enough.

Gasping for air, he finally broke it off, smiling down at the flustered witch.

“Husk! What the hell?!” Vaggie said, scowling,”you can’t just do that! That’s assault!!”

“No…no it’s okay” (Y/n) said,”I-I found my soulmate. He’s a cute, grumpy kitty.”

Husk rolled his eyes at that last comment, before he looked over at Alastor.

He was fuming, the radio demon was clutching his staff so hard it could’ve snapped.

“Husker. I told you not to find your soulmate. It’s in your contract.”

“Well I technically found him” (Y/n) said, putting her hands on the cat’s chest. Husk knew the situation with the man who owned his soul and his soulmate was extremely serious, but he was fighting the urge not to purr.

Alastor pondered for a moment, before pulling up the contract again. He scanned over it before the witch snatched it from his grasp.

“Sorry, ‘Radio Demon’” She said, in a mocking tone,”Since our string faded away, and your ‘client’ didn’t seek me out, he didn’t go against your agreement. I own his soul now, and he owns mine. He’s no longer in your possession.”

Alastor’s smile was so tight his teeth could crack, seeing the contract rip up and Husk’s chains fizzle away.

“So? Husk was it?” (Y/n) said, grabbing his paws,”I think we have some catching up to do.”

“I agree.” Husk said, planting a light kiss on top of her forehead.

“Sorry I didn’t seek you out earlier” She said, “I-I thought you didn’t want to meet me, but I now know the truth.”

“Thank you love, thank you for saving me.”

————

Word Count: I’m lazy i’ll put it later 💀