#like low key soulmates

[djevelbl]

LET'S GOOOOOOO ghostlycerb on ao3 carrying the fandom

[ethowo-indeed]

bdubs & etho saying that if alliances start falling apart they'll stick together

"it'll still be you and me. we'll still stick together" "i got your word on that, right?" "a hundred percent, yes! i would never turn on you"

.... i can feel the drama coming. also them instantly talking about which of their teammates they would turn on first.... bdubs saying "i would turn on them both so fast" (TURN ON CLEO? HELLO?) like.... bdubs & etho literally don't know how to be allied to each other in a normal and healthy way... no matter whether they stick to these words or not, this has such big angst potential, either because they'll ruin each other, or they ruin everyone around them to hold onto each other. why are they like this. they really are the "i could make him worse <3" trope, both ways.

[binary5tar1117]

I dunno what the general consensus is but imo

Between Us >>> Until We Meet Again

[gyuuberryy]

fatal trouble

pairing: vampire!sunghoon x reader

synopsis: your roommate is hot. really really hot. and odd too. really really odd. after a strange experience with him, you slowly start distancing yourself from him. but, it becomes exceptionally hard with your feelings coming in the way. how are you supposed to protect yourself if you can’t resist him? the answer is you don’t need to. your fates are intertwined and there's no letting go.

genre: roommates to lovers, vampire au, soulmate au

warnings: suggestive content, mentions of nightmares and blood, jealous!sunghoon, 

note: dropping this before i go on hiatus for a month due to school work. i haven't proofread it that well i hope there are no mistakes. also im obsessed with vampire aus, enhablr needs more of them fr!! i hope you enjoy reading this!

word count: 6k

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

the soft glow of your laptop screen illuminated your face, casting long shadows across sunghoon's pristine white sheets. you were sprawled out on his bed, legs crossed beneath you, surrounded by a chaotic scatter of textbooks and papers. the quiet hum of the air conditioner filled the room, broken only by the intermittent clicks of your keyboard.

sunghoon sat at his desk, a silhouette against the darkened room, save for the focused beam of his desk lamp. his fingers danced across the keyboard with an almost rhythmic precision, the soft glow of the screen reflecting in his dark eyes. you’d grown accustomed to the sight of him engrossed in his work, a solitary figure lost in the world of ones and zeros.

you’d known each other for a few months now, the kind of acquaintance born out of shared living space and the occasional group project. as roommates sharing the same major, your apartment had become a de facto study hub. computer science had thrown you together more often than not, and tonight was no exception. 

“hey, did you get the part about the algorithm?” your voice, a whisper in the quiet, cut through the comfortable silence.

sunghoon glanced up, his eyes a deep, almost unnatural shade of red in the dim light. for a moment, you were struck by how different he looked compared to the daylight. “yeah, i think so. isn’t it something about minimising the time complexity?”

you nodded, your eyes scanning the code on your screen. “exactly. i’m just having trouble with the implementation.”

a comfortable silence settled over the room as you both focused on your respective screens. the only sound was the rhythmic tapping of keys and the occasional sigh of frustration. you glanced up at sunghoon, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of his monitor. his long, slender fingers moved with an almost hypnotic grace across the keyboard.

there was something undeniably attractive about his focused intensity. his features, normally sharp and aloof, softened slightly when he was engrossed in his work. it was a side of him you rarely saw, and it was oddly captivating.

you shook your head, mentally scolding yourself for such thoughts. he was your roommate, nothing more. and besides, there was no way he could be interested in someone like you.

“hey,” sunghoon’s voice cut through your reverie, “i think i figured it out.”

you blinked, startled. “oh, really? want to explain it?”

he nodded, sliding his chair back and standing up. he walked over to your side of the bed, his tall frame looming over you. as he leaned in to point at your screen, his scent washed over you – a subtle blend of wood and something else, almost sweet, that you couldn’t quite place.

you felt a strange warmth creeping up your neck as he hovered over you. his proximity was unnerving, yet strangely intoxicating. you swallowed hard, trying to focus on the code in front of you.

sunghoon's breath was warm against your ear as he leaned in closer, his voice a low rumble, "try this." his finger hovered over your keyboard, about to demonstrate.

you felt a shiver run down your spine, not from the cool night air but from the inexplicable sensation of being so close to him. his scent, a mix of something woodsy and faintly sweet, was intoxicating. you tried to focus on the code, to ignore the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

he typed a few lines, his fingers brushing against yours. the contact sent a jolt of electricity through you. you forced yourself to concentrate on the screen, trying to understand the changes he made.

"see?" he said, straightening up. "it's simpler this way."

you nodded, still reeling from the physical contact. "thanks," you managed to say, your voice barely a whisper.

sunghoon stepped back, a small smile playing on his lips. "no problem," he said, turning back to his own computer.

you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. it was just sunghoon, your roommate. nothing more. but the way he had acted, the way he had touched you, it was making it hard to think of him that way.

the room was quiet again, the only sounds the soft clacking of keyboards and the occasional rustle of paper. you were deep in thought, trying to wrap your head around a particularly complex problem when a question popped into your head. on impulse, you asked, “so, sunghoon, what do you do in your free time, when you’re not, you know, studying?”

sunghoon paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. a flicker of something, perhaps surprise or amusement, passed across his face before he responded smoothly, “free time is a luxury for a computer science student, don’t you think? but when i do find a spare moment, i usually spend it reading or exploring new coding languages.”

his answer was polite, but it felt rehearsed, as if he'd prepared a response for just such a question. a sense of curiosity sparked within you. you’d always thought sunghoon was a bit of an enigma, but this was a new level of intrigue.

curiosity, a persistent itch, prodded you to ask something more than just about schoolwork.

“hey, i was curious about this” you started, your voice barely audible over the hum of the air conditioner, “where are you from?” it was a simple question, one you would normally ask any new acquaintance, but there was something about sunghoon that made you curious about his past.

he paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. for a moment, there was a stillness in the room that was almost palpable. then, with a casual shrug, he replied, "oh, just a small town. nothing interesting." the response was swift, deflecting your question with ease.

confused, you returned to your code, but your mind was racing. there was something off about sunghoon, something that had intrigued you from the moment you met him. you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but there were strange little details that had started to accumulate.

there were those odd instances – like the time you'd woken up in the middle of the night to find the kitchen light on and sunghoon standing at the counter, completely motionless, his eyes glowing an eerie red. or the way he seemed to have an uncanny ability to appear and disappear without a sound. and then there was the peculiar lack of a reflection in any mirror in his room.

these memories surfaced, sharp and clear, as if your brain was piecing together a puzzle it didn't know existed. you shook your head, dismissing the thoughts as overactive imagination. after all, sunghoon was just your roommate, a fellow computer science student. nothing more, nothing less.

a yawn escaped your lips as you stretched, the late hour finally catching up with you. “i think i’m going to call it a night,” you announced, rubbing your eyes. the weight of the unanswered questions about sunghoon was beginning to feel heavy.

sunghoon nodded, his gaze fixed on the computer screen. “alright, good night then. i’ll probably stay up a bit longer.”

you nodded in response, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. as you stood up, you glanced down at the floor. something was off. the soft glow from sunghoon’s computer cast long shadows on the floor, including a distinct one from his chair. but there was no shadow of sunghoon himself. the spot where his shadow should have been was empty, an inky void against the illuminated floor.

a chill ran down your spine. your heart pounded in your ears. your mind raced, trying to come up with a logical explanation, but nothing made sense. you snatched up your bag, your movements jerky and panicked. without a second thought, you fled back to your room, the door slamming shut behind you. you fumbled with the lock, your hands trembling. only when you heard the satisfying click of the lock did you allow yourself to breathe.

your heart pounded in your ears as you leaned against the cool metal of your door. the realisation of what you had seen was slowly sinking in. no human lacked a shadow. it was impossible. a chill ran down your spine.

you tried to rationalise it away. maybe there was a draft, or a trick of the light. but deep down, you knew better. something was profoundly wrong, and it was connected to sunghoon. the friendly, quiet roommate you thought you knew was now shrouded in an unsettling mystery.

you glanced at the clock. it was late, and exhaustion was starting to creep in. you needed to sleep, to clear your head. but how could you sleep with this looming over you? you decided to distract yourself by pulling out a book from your shelf, hoping the words would drown out the unsettling thoughts.

as you turned the pages, your mind kept drifting back to sunghoon. his unusual behaviour, the absence of his shadow, it all fit together into a terrifying puzzle. you tried to shake off the feeling, but it was like a persistent itch you couldn't scratch.

sleep finally claimed you, but it was restless. your dreams were filled with shadows, long and menacing, closing in on you. you woke up with a start, your heart racing. the first light of dawn was filtering through your curtains. you got out of bed and went to the window. the world outside looked ordinary, peaceful. but you knew the truth was far from it.

something was wrong with sunghoon, and you were determined to find out what.

the days following your unsettling discovery were a blur of forced normalcy. you tried to interact with sunghoon as if nothing was amiss, but the weight of your knowledge cast a long shadow over your interactions. you found yourself avoiding his gaze, your voice trembling when you spoke to him.

sunghoon seemed oblivious to your discomfort at first. he’d always been a quiet person, so his reserved nature didn’t raise any immediate suspicion. however, as the days turned into weeks, his patience began to wear thin.

"hey, are you free to study together tomorrow?" he asked one evening as you were both making dinner. his tone was casual, but you could detect a hint of underlying disappointment.

your heart skipped a beat. you’d been avoiding his study invitations, coming up with increasingly elaborate excuses. the truth hung heavy in the air, a tangible thing between you. you hesitated, your mind racing.

"i... i’m really busy tomorrow," you stammered, your voice barely audible. "maybe next week?"

disappointment flashed across sunghoon’s face before he masked it with a forced smile. "sure, no problem," he replied, his voice flat.

as he turned away, you couldn't shake the feeling of guilt. you'd hurt him, and you knew it.

the night was a descent into terror. you dreamt of shadows, long and menacing, closing in on you. sunghoon was there, but not as you knew him. his eyes burned with an unnatural light, and his form was distorted, monstrous. you were running, but your legs were leaden, and the shadows were gaining on you. a scream built in your throat, but no sound escaped.

you woke with a start, drenched in sweat. your heart pounded like a drumbeat in your chest. panic washed over you as you gasped for air. you were disoriented, unsure of where you were. a noise from the living room startled you, and you jumped out of bed.

the light was on, and there, standing in the doorway, was sunghoon, his face etched with concern. before you could react, you found yourself lunging at him, your hands grasping at his neck. he didn't fight back, instead, he held you tightly, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

your sobs racked your body as you clung to him, finding solace in his warmth. he shushed you softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. gradually, your breathing began to slow, and your body relaxed.

when you finally calmed down, sunghoon gently guided you back to bed. he sat on the edge, running a comforting hand through your hair. you clung to him, your fear slowly dissipating.

in the quiet that followed, you felt a strange urge to confide in him. your voice was barely a whisper when you began, "i dreamt of you... as something... different."

sunghoon stiffened, but his grip on you didn't loosen. something flashed behind his eyes, but he listened intently as you recounted the terrifying details of your nightmare. when you finished, he was silent for a long moment. finally, he whispered, "go back to sleep," and you felt him lean down to kiss your forehead.

with that, he quietly left the room, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

the days that followed were a careful ballet of avoidance. you moved through your days with a practised detachment, constructing an invisible wall between yourself and sunghoon. the weight of your decision pressed down on you like a physical burden. despite the burgeoning crush that had blossomed in the quiet corners of your heart, you'd created a formidable wall between yourself and sunghoon. his enigmatic nature, coupled with the unsettling discoveries you'd made, had convinced you to keep him at arm's length. it was a lonely existence, a self-imposed exile that offered a semblance of safety.

your days were a monotonous cycle of lectures, assignments, and solitary meals. you'd found solace in the company of your classmate, lee heeseung, his cheerful demeanour a stark contrast to the storm raging within you. yet, even as you laughed and shared stories with him, a part of you longed for the quiet intensity of sunghoon's presence.

in the vast, impersonal lecture hall, you’d sought refuge in the anonymity of the crowd. but even here, you couldn't escape the weight of your decision. a persistent sense of being watched gnawed at you, a constant reminder of the eyes that followed your every move. and you knew very well who it was. it was during one such lecture that the tension reached a breaking point.

you were engrossed in your notes when a subtle shift in the atmosphere caught your attention. a cold prickle ran down your spine as you slowly turned your head. there, in the row behind you, sat sunghoon, his gaze fixed intently on you. his expression was a complex interplay of emotions - longing, pain, and a flicker of something darker.

your heart pounded in your chest as a wave of guilt washed over you. you'd hurt him, pushed him away without a second thought. in that moment, as his eyes held yours, you realised the depth of your own cowardice.

not to mention, with each passing night your nightmares had intensified. each night a descent into a darker, more terrifying realm. sleep, once a refuge, had transformed into a battlefield, leaving you exhausted and on edge. the physical toll was evident - dark circles shadowed your eyes, and your skin had started to take on a sickly pallor.

despite your deteriorating condition, you continued to maintain your distance from sunghoon. guilt gnawed at you, but fear held you captive. yet, in the aftermath of each nightmare, you found yourself seeking solace in his presence. he’d sit by your bed his silent vigil a comforting anchor in the storm of your nightmares. his touch, gentle and reassuring, had become a lifeline, pulling you back from the brink of despair.

one particularly harrowing night, you woke up screaming, your body drenched in sweat. sunghoon was by your side almost instantly, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. as your fear subsided, you began to recount the nightmare, your voice trembling.

"i... i dreamt of a place," you managed to say, your words halting. "a dark place, with... with strange symbols."

sunghoon's grip tightened around you. "and you were alone," he finished for you, his voice low and soothing.

your eyes widened in shock. how could he know what you had dreamt about? you hadn’t even managed to complete your story. yet, sunghoon had described it perfectly, as if he had been there with you.

a chill ran down your spine. you pulled away from him, your eyes filled with fear and confusion. sunghoon simply looked at you, his expression unreadable, before turning and leaving the room.

what did this mean? how could sunghoon know about your nightmares? the answers were as elusive as ever, but one thing was certain: the line between the ordinary and the extraordinary was blurring, and you were caught in the crossfire.

the nightmares ceased as abruptly as they had begun. you woke each morning feeling refreshed, the spectre of terror finally lifted from your shoulders. a sense of relief washed over you, but it was tinged with a strange melancholy. the nightly visits from sunghoon, a comforting ritual amidst the chaos, were now absent.

initially, you welcomed the return to normalcy. the constant fear and exhaustion had taken a toll on you, and the ability to sleep soundly was a precious gift. but as days turned into weeks, a nagging sense of unease crept in. sunghoon's absence, once a welcome respite, now felt like a void.

you started noticing subtle changes in him. his eyes, once bright and alert, were now shadowed by dark circles. his once sharp features seemed softened by fatigue. it was as if a weight was pressing down on him, a burden he carried alone.

a pang of guilt struck you. perhaps your avoidance had contributed to his deteriorating condition. you wanted to reach out, to offer support, but fear held you back. what if your presence only made things worse? what if you discovered something terrifying?

you longed to reach out to him, to offer solace and support, but the words remained trapped in your throat. the fear of rejection, of further pushing him away, paralyzed you. it was a cruel irony that the person you yearned to comfort was the one causing you the most pain. 

the afternoon sun beat down on the bustling campus as you made your way towards the nearest convenience store. the promise of a refreshing popsicle was the only thing that could lure you away from the confines of your dorm room. with a popsicle clutched in your hand, you emerged from the store, ready to face the world, one frozen treat at a time.

just as you were about to savour the first bite, heeseung materialised beside you, his infectious grin lighting up his face. "arcade?" he suggested, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. you nodded, the prospect of a distraction proving too tempting to resist.

you split the popsicle down the middle, the sweet, icy treat a welcome respite from the oppressive heat. as you handed one half to heeseung, a strange sensation washed over you. it was as if a cold draft had swept across your skin, a shiver that had nothing to do with the melting popsicle in your hand.

instinctively, you turned around, your heart pounding in your chest. there, on the other side of the road, stood sunghoon, his figure cast in the harsh sunlight. his eyes, usually guarded, were fixed on you with an intensity that bordered on hostility. a scowl marred his usually indifferent features, and his jaw was clenched tightly.

you offered a timid smile, a feeble attempt to bridge the chasm between you. but his gaze remained unwavering, cold and unforgiving. with a final, contemptuous glance, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

a wave of guilt and confusion washed over you. you'd hurt him, you knew that. but the intensity of his reaction was unexpected, almost frightening. as you turned back to heeseung, you forced a smile, determined to push the unsettling encounter to the back of your mind.

the encounter with sunghoon left a bitter taste in your mouth. his hostile glare had shattered the fragile peace you'd been cultivating. as you and heeseung made your way to the arcade, your mind raced, trying to decipher the meaning behind sunghoon's outburst. had your avoidance pushed him to the brink? or was there something more sinister at play?

the arcade, with its flashing lights and the cacophony of sound, offered a temporary escape from the turmoil within. you lost yourself in the rhythm of the games, the competitive spirit temporarily drowning out the unsettling incident. yet, even as you laughed and cheered with heeseung, your mind kept drifting back to sunghoon, his angry gaze burning into your memory.

as the afternoon wore on, a sense of unease settled over you. the carefree atmosphere of the arcade couldn't mask the growing storm within. the incident with sunghoon had opened a wound, a raw and painful reminder of the complex dynamics between you.

you glanced at heeseung, his laughter infectious, and felt a pang of guilt. he was doing everything to lift your spirits, to distract you from your troubles. but your mind was elsewhere, trapped in a labyrinth of doubt and fear.

the walk back to your dorm was a solitary affair. the campus, usually bustling with activity, seemed deserted. with each step, the weight of your worries grew heavier. the encounter with sunghoon had forced you to confront the reality of the situation. you couldn't continue to bury your head in the sand, hoping that the problem would resolve itself.

the weight of the day pressed down on you as you unlocked the apartment door. exhaustion tugged at your limbs, but the lingering unease from your encounter with sunghoon kept your mind racing. 

as you stepped into the living room, a jolt of surprise ran through you. sunghoon was standing in the kitchen, his silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the refrigerator.

there was an unnatural stillness to him, a predatory calm that sent a shiver down your spine. his eyes, when they met yours, held a strange intensity, a glint of something dangerous lurking beneath the surface. "fancy seeing you here," he said, his voice low and measured.

you forced a smile, your heart pounding in your chest. "just got back," you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

he approached you slowly, his steps deliberate. "we have that new assignment," he began, his voice low and seductive. "maybe we could work on it together tomorrow?"

your mind raced, trying to come up with an excuse. "i'm... i'm pretty busy," you stammered, avoiding his gaze.

sunghoon's expression darkened. with a swift movement, he closed the distance between you, cornering you against the kitchen counter, his hands grabbing your hips. his proximity was unnerving, his scent, a mix of wood and something faintly sweet, filling your senses. you could feel his breath on your skin, hot and heavy. 

"don't lie to me," he hissed, his voice low and menacing. "i know what's going on."

his grip tightened around you, and you winced. 

"it's nothing," you insisted, your voice trembling. "just... busy."

"busy with heeseung?" he spat out, his jealousy evident in his tone. his eyes narrowed, and you could see the anger simmering beneath the surface.

your face flushed with embarrassment. he was taking this the wrong way. “it’s not like that,” you stammered, your voice barely a whisper.

sunghoon's grip tightened, pinning you against the cool surface of the counter. his breath was warm against your skin, and a strange sensation, a mix of fear and excitement, coursed through your veins.

“don’t lie to me,” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “you're avoiding me.”

you didn't know why, but the power dynamic between you and sunghoon was intoxicating. he had never behaved this way before let alone showcase jealousy so blatantly. it was hot. you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. 

before you could respond, you found yourself leaning in, your lips brushing against his. it was an impulsive act, a desperate attempt to silence him, to end the confrontation. but, to your surprise, he responded, his lips moving against yours with a gentle intensity.

the world seemed to slow down as the kiss deepened. but as quickly as it had begun, it ended. you pulled away, your heart pounding in your chest.

overwhelmed by a rush of emotions, you turned and fled to your room, slamming the door behind you. you leaned against the door, panting, your mind racing. 

the realisation of what you had done hit you like a tidal wave. you had kissed your roommate, a person you were actively avoiding due to a growing sense of fear and unease. the implications of your actions were terrifying. you'd crossed a line, a boundary you had carefully constructed to protect yourself.

a series of frantic knocks on the door jolted you out of your stupor. it was sunghoon, his voice muffled through the wood. "open up, please," he pleaded. your heart pounded in your chest. you couldn't face him now. you needed time to process what had happened, to regain control of the situation.

the knocking continued for a few minutes before finally ceasing. silence enveloped the room, heavy and oppressive. you slid down the door, your body trembling. what had you done?

morning arrived with a sense of foreboding. the thought of facing sunghoon filled you with dread, but the need to uncover the truth was stronger. you waited until the sound of his footsteps faded down the hallway, a sign that he had left for his morning jog.

with a deep breath, you crept into sunghoon's room, a sense of trepidation gnawing at you. the room was immaculate, a stark contrast to the chaos that often reigned in your own space. everything had its place, every surface spotless. there were no hidden compartments, no secret drawers, no clues to the enigmatic man who inhabited this space.

disappointment washed over you. you'd hoped to find something, anything that would explain the strange occurrences, the unsettling behaviour. but the room held no secrets, only a sense of emptiness.

your eyes scanned the room, searching for any hidden compartments or secret passages. everything seemed ordinary, almost mundane. disappointment was beginning to creep in when your gaze fell on a small cabinet tucked beneath sunghoon's desk. it was always locked, a tantalising enigma that had piqued your curiosity countless times.

today, however, there was a change. a key was lodged in the lock, an open invitation to delve into the forbidden. a wave of hesitation washed over you. you were invading his privacy, crossing a line you had sworn never to cross. but the allure of the unknown was too strong. curiosity, like a relentless tide, pulled you forward.

with trembling hands, you grasped the key and turned it. the lock clicked open with a satisfyingly smooth sound. you slid open the cabinet door, your heart pounding in your chest. a mini-fridge, small and unassuming, greeted you. a wave of relief washed over you. so this was the secret? a hidden stash of snacks?

you reached out to open the fridge door, a smirk playing on your lips. but as the cool air enveloped you, your blood ran cold.

inside, lined up neatly on the shelves, were rows of blood bags. the crimson liquid glinted in the dim light, a chilling contrast to the sterile white plastic. the sight was so surreal, so utterly horrifying, that for a moment, you thought you were hallucinating.

your mind went blank. a wave of nausea washed over you as you stared at the horrifying contents of the fridge. this couldn't be real. this was a nightmare, a twisted hallucination. but the cold, hard truth stared back at you, undeniable and terrifying.

the world tilted as your legs gave way, sending you crashing to the knees. blood bags. sunghoon kept blood bags. your roommate, the seemingly normal guy you knew, was a… vampire? the very concept seemed absurd, ripped from the pages of a fantasy novel. yet, the evidence sat before you, a stark reality that defied logic.

panic clawed at your throat, but a desperate hope flickered within you. maybe it was a medical condition. maybe he had a strange blood fetish. anything but a vampire!

"vampires don't exist, do they?", you mutter to yourself still in shock.

"yes, they do," a low voice confirmed, sending a tremor through your entire body. you spun around, scream caught in your throat. sunghoon stood in the doorway, his face unreadable, his eyes a bottomless well of emotions.

shame washed over you in a tidal wave. you felt exposed, not just for snooping, but for the fear and disgust that clouded your mind.

jumping out the window, a ridiculous notion moments ago, now seemed like the only way out. here, trapped in this surreal nightmare, your only escape seemed to be a dramatic leap from the fourth floor. it wouldn't kill you, right? you’d only break a few bones at best, which you were absolutely okay with. 

with a burst of adrenaline, you scrambled to your feet and bolted towards the window, desperation fueling your actions. but before you could reach the latch, a hand clamped around your waist, pulling you back with an iron grip. "don't even think about it," sunghoon's voice was a low growl, the air crackling with unspoken emotions.

you were pinned against his chest, his warmth a stark contrast to the chilling terror that gripped you. his eyes, no longer cold and distant, burned with a mix of anger and concern.

his words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the wildness of your actions. you struggled against his hold, your fear fueling your resistance. but there was an undeniable strength in him, a power that held you captive.

"please, let me go," you gasped, your voice trembling.

sunghoon's grip loosened slightly, and he took a step back. his eyes held a mixture of concern and something else, something you couldn't quite decipher. "i won't hurt you," he said, his voice soft. "i need to explain."

your eyes met his, a mixture of fear and confusion swirling in their depths. sunghoon seemed to read your mind, his expression softening as he took a step closer. he sighed, a heavy exhale that seemed to carry the weight of centuries.

"i know this is a lot to take in," he began, his voice low and steady. "but i need you to trust me."

you nodded, your mind racing. there was something about his tone, a vulnerability beneath the hardened exterior, that compelled you to listen.

"i'm a vampire," he said, the words hanging heavy in the air. "it's not how i wanted things to be, but it's the reality i've been forced to live with."

he paused, his eyes searching your face for any signs of revulsion. but to your surprise, a strange sense of calm washed over you. this was the answer, the missing piece to the puzzle.

he went on to explain his existence, the centuries of solitude, and the desperate hope that had brought him to you. he talked about the blood bags, a necessary evil to sustain his life.

he continued, his voice laced with a hint of vulnerability. "i’ve been alone for so long. i've tried to live a normal life, to blend in. and then i met you."

his gaze softened, a tender look replacing the earlier intensity. "you're my anchor, my reason to keep going. your nightmares, the ones you've been having, are a connection between us. we share them, a soulmate bond, if you will. it's the only way for me to experience human emotions, to feel truly alive."

the revelation was mind-boggling. a vampire? your soulmate? it was a story straight out of a gothic novel. yet, as he spoke, a sense of peace washed over you. there was a truth in his eyes, a vulnerability that resonated with your own.

without thinking, you reached out and hugged him. your arms wrapped around him, offering comfort and acceptance. he froze, surprised by your sudden embrace.

"i don't care," you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest. "i'll figure it out. we'll figure it out together."

he returned the hug, his arms tightening around you. his face was buried in your neck, his breath warm against your skin. you could feel his heart pounding against your chest, a rhythm that mirrored your own. in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his embrace, fear and confusion faded, replaced by a sense of hope and possibility.

"i'm so sorry about the nightmares," he murmured, his voice filled with regret. "i stopped sleeping for a while, trying to find a way to stop them. i hated seeing you scared, all because of me."

your heart ached for him. he had sacrificed his own well-being to protect you. anger and concern warred within you. how could he be so selfless, so reckless? you pushed against his chest, needing to see his face, to read the emotions swirling in his eyes.

"don't be stupid," you scolded, your voice stern. "you can't just stop sleeping."

you gently pushed against his chest, trying to create some distance between you. you needed to see his face, to gauge his sincerity.

"stop," he whined, his voice laced with playful annoyance. "just stay like this for a little longer."

his words were a stark contrast to the seriousness of the situation, but they had the desired effect. you froze, your body responding to the unexpected shift in tone. sunghoon's grip tightened around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. his lips brushed against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. the warmth of his breath mingled with the scent of his skin, creating an intoxicating blend that clouded your senses.

you were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, fear and confusion replaced by a growing sense of intimacy. the line between platonic comfort and something more was blurring, and you were dangerously close to crossing it.

his voice dropped to a low octave, a husky rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "i can't stop thinking about how your lips felt against mine last night," he confessed, his breath warm against your skin. he pulled back, his eyes holding yours, a mischievous glint in their depths. 

"can we do that again?" he asked, his voice laced with playful arrogance.

before you could respond, his lips were on yours, claiming your mouth with a fierce urgency. the kiss was a whirlwind, a tempest of emotions and sensations. his tongue explored your mouth, demanding entrance, while your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. the kiss was different from the one you had shared the night before, filled with a newfound urgency and intensity. his tongue explored your mouth, a dance of desire and longing. you could feel the heat radiating from his body, a warmth that was both intoxicating and terrifying.

his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer. with a swift movement, he lifted you onto the bed, his lips trailing a path of fire down your neck. he nuzzled your skin, his breath creating a tingling sensation. "you smell so good," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "i had to stop myself from pouncing on you the first time i saw you." 

"from now on, you're sleeping in my bed," he declared, his voice firm. "i need to make sure those nightmares don't come back. and besides, i like having you close."

as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. in this moment, with sunghoon holding you close, everything else seemed to fade away. the line between reality and fantasy blurred, replaced by a single, undeniable truth: you were in the arms of a vampire, and you were dangerously close to falling in love.

his lips trailed down your neck, with such heat that it left you breathless. he nibbled at your skin, his teeth gently scraping against your sensitive flesh. the sensation was both painful and exhilarating, a heady mix of fear and desire. you gasped, your body arching involuntarily. 

"i'm not going to bite you," he promised, his voice laced with a hint of mischief. 

"not yet, at least."

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[astrobydalia]

Summer fling❤️‍🔥

Relatioship observations

work by astrobydalia

❤️‍🔥 A thing about Virgo Venus is that since this is Venus’ fall they tend to be socially awkward or have struggles reading the room. The type to make jokes or remarks that are a bit too direct and low-key break the mood. They tend to behave in ways that comes across as robotic or dry

❤️‍🔥 A similar thing happens with Scorpio/Aries Venus too (venus is debilitated here as well) they tend to behave in ways that breaks social harmony by being a little too bold or even scandalous (Examples of this energy: Marilyn Monroe, Doja Cat)

❤️‍🔥In general, unless the rest of the chart says otherwise, debilitated Venus positions gives the native low charisma and lower ability to blend in socially. Their demeanor tends to be too forward or rub people the wrong way.

❤️‍🔥What is up with Leo placements and becoming romantically obsessed with people that reject them? Either that or they enjoy perusing people who they "shouldn't" be with like authority figures or someone that is way out of their league

❤️‍🔥Just like Jupiter in a woman's chart tells you how her husband will be, I feel like Jupiter in man's chart will tell you what kind of husband he'll be to be honest

​❤️‍🔥​ Whenever I had Vertex in the 5th house of a Solar Return, romance was a significant thing during those years!! However it was always flings, situationships and stuff like that. The sign with gives more nuance like one year I had it in Sagittarius and I had a fleeting romance with a foreigner

❤️‍🔥 With debilitated moon (Capricorn/Scorpio Moon) I've noticed these natives tend to believe or feel like love is conditional. Things like loyalty, trust and care are earned and come with a price or you have to jump thorough endless hoops first in order to get them. They refuse to be vulnerable so they expect the other person to show their cards first and then MAYBE if you earn their trust they'll open up too but good luck with that LMAO.

❤️‍🔥 That being said, I noticed men with Capricorn/Scorpio Moon tend to marry a woman that is very self-righteous and controlling. Their choice for a life partner tends to be... yikes

❤️‍🔥 Capricorn/Scorpio Moon can be the type to be skeptical of the idea of true love. The difference is Scorpio Moons are most likely to convert into the lovey-dovey train once they find their person cause being water sign deep down they crave that intimacy. However Capricorn Moons are most likely to freeze their heart out even when their soulmate is right in front of them, unfortunately the more time passes the more cap moons tend to harden their hearts

❤️‍🔥 Scorpio Moon’s greatest fear is to be alone I’ve noticed. And yeah nobody wants that but trust me for Scorpio Moon this is a HUGE thing. When I say they crave intimacy I mean they CRAVE intimacy. If they could hot glue their loved ones to their body so they’re connected to them for life like siamese twins, they would.

❤️‍🔥 Taurus Moons are just as obsessive and sexual as scorpio moons, literally copy paste. They can also be just as toxic when underdeveloped. The difference is taurus moons are more nurturing and if they don't want you to leave they'll create a paradise or "golden cage" for you (vs Scorpio moons who tend to resort to emotional or mind games for this purpose). I was also surprised to discover how needy taurus moons become once they like you?? Idk how to explain it but it's like they wanna insert you in every aspect of their lives and low-key gatekeep you LMAO. On the other hand Scorpio Moons will push you away and play cat and mouse for a while if they see themselves catching feelings

❤️‍🔥In my opinion both moons (Scorpio and taurus) tend to seek possessiveness or control in their relationships and they usually have the upper hand or the most power I've noticed

❤️‍🔥Praying for gen z babies born under Scorpio Venus cause a lot of them have that placement square Aquarius Neptune and that combo is.... ooof. Romanticizing toxic delusional love that brainwashes the shit out of them YALL NEED TO WAKE THE FUCK UP

❤️‍🔥 When someone has their planets in your 12th house sign you have a fogged perception of this person, you tend to idolize them cause there are parts of them that you're blind to. However this person will feel confident in knowing your psyche as well as the unconscious motives behind your actions. This person has a knack to naturally know how to appeal to unconscious desires or fears you weren't even aware you had. For this reason you'll find this person either triggering and scary OR very addictive cause it almost feels like they penetrate your soul

❤️‍🔥 With that being said, people with planets in your 12th house are the best therapists for you or best people to vent to. Water houses in general can apply, but I feel like 12th house is better for this cause it rules over spiritual and emotional healing/cleansing specifically. This person can help you untangle your unconscious and you can feel sooooo much relief after talking or being with them. This will only apply if you trust them and they have good intentions ofc, otherwise they'll actually feed into your unconscious fears and make them worse

❤️‍🔥 People with placements on your 8th house secretly dislike and/or envy you, but still feel the need to be close with you cause they low-key wanna tear you down, wanna see you fail, wanna keep taps on you to make sure aren't too successful. I've seen SOOOOO many toxic fake friendships with this synastry... Although I've previously talked about positive manifestations of this overlay too, frankly this dynamic is what I've observed for the most part with this synastry if im honest with you

❤️‍🔥 I totally agree with @zeldasnotes when she said 8th house synastry is only good/tolerable when there’s mutual sexual attraction between the two, otherwise it’s annoying af. I believe this is because the two people can easily use sex to release all the intensity and tension between them instead of letting it build up or channeling it through toxic emotions like envy

❤️‍🔥 Okay but have you ever been genuinely loved by an Aries placement? When their heart is in it, they'll have unshakable loyalty. They’d move mountains for you, kill and fight for you. They are THE ride or dies

❤️‍🔥 A thing that I've seen a lot with women who have debilitated Jupiter (Virgo, Gemini, Capricorn) is that they have a husband that prioritized his work over their marriage/family. The husband is often away due to work or duties or just emotionally unavailable in general. These women tend to give up something about their life after marriage because they had to accommodate to their husband's life style, like if she has to move or give up her own job to be with him she will. For example: Grace Kelly (Gemini Jupiter) who quit acting after marring the prince of Monaco. Hailey Bieber (Capricorn Jupiter) who was exposed to a lot more public attention after marrying Justin and she said herself she's had to learn to adapt that being new part of her life now

❤️‍🔥 Another big thing I've seen with Saturn influence in the 7th house is that your spouse will have big, BIG ambitions. People only talk about Jupiter or Venus but to be real with you, Saturn is an underrated indicator for your spouse being wealthy. This placement indicates that your spouse is stablished, successful and can easily provide stability for you. All the people I've seen with this placement married someone who had a business!!!!, their own house, a successful career, a household name, a higher position, etc

What I mean by Saturn influence on the 7th (for both Vedic and Tropical): Saturn in the 7th house Capricorn or Aquarius DSC 7th ruler in the 10th house (also maybe 11th house) or vice versa Saturn darakarka

❤️‍🔥 Mars-Pluto aspects definitely will make someone have pretty extreme kinks

❤️‍🔥 I’ve seen this a lot in Pisces Moons and Aries Moons that they low-key wanna be babied in a relationship or they subconsciously end up being the one who’s more coddled and taken care of by their partner

❤️‍🔥 Aries and Gemini placements in the composite chart is indicative of a relationship that likely won't last long-term. I've seen this placement in long lasting marriages too but their relationships gave off fling vibes, really playful, they type where people said they wouldn't last

❤️‍🔥 I’ve seen Saturn in the 7th house synastry manifesting as the opposite of commitment. The Saturn person blocks off the possibility of having a committed relationship with the house person and the house person feels abandoned

❤️‍🔥 With that being said Saturn in synastry/composite can indicate rejection in that area and things one or both parties will deprive the other of or deny them. For example Saturn in the 8th synastry/composite can mean one person refused to have sex with the other or there are many conditions and restrictions in the sex life of both

❤️‍🔥 Aquarius and Capricorn Mars/Venus are SO good at hiding their attraction from you. They'll watch from afar for some time before making some move meanwhile you'll be clueless of their interest

❤️‍🔥 Moon square Neptune is an aspect that makes someone emotionally insecure, the type to need constant reassurance that you still love them. Can also be emotionally manipulative in very subtle almost undetectable ways

❤️‍🔥 Earth Venus find it very easy to engage in casual dating/hook up culture because they know how to not get too attached. They have a hyper awareness of what purpose a certain relationship is serving them at the moment so they act accordingly

❤️‍🔥 On the other hand I’ve noticed Air Venus natives have a tendency to play around because they know they get the ick quickly. But it's all fun and games until they end up catching feelings accidentally 😭

❤️‍🔥 My experience having Gemini Jupiter in the 7th house: Yes all my suitors/dates have been foreigners but the cultural difference was never that big. They usually came from a country close to mine or their cultural background was very similar from mine

work by astrobydalia

[brunchable]

𝗠𝘆 𝗡𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗣𝗼𝗿𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿

Pairings: PornStar!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Sexual Innuendo/humour,Guy next door, situational comedy? If you're not up for a few second-hand embarrassment sit this one out lol. Summary: Your coworker peer pressured you to look up SergeantBarnes in Pornhub, reason? Because apparently you're missing out. A/N: This would make a good mini series. . .but we'll see. I had a dream. . .that he was a guy next door, just wanted to-of course-add a twist to it asdfghjkl.

It was all Amy’s fault. And Trish’s. And okay, maybe you shared a little bit of the blame for caving to the intense peer pressure at work. But still.

You’d been minding your own business in the break room, scrolling through lunch menus, when Amy had sidled up, leaned in with that conspiratorial look on her face, and whispered, “Have you seen him yet?”

“Seen who?” your eyebrows creased as you asked, confused.

Trish popped up out of nowhere, clutching her latte in her hand. “Girl, SeargentBarnes. The guy is legendary—I mean, a literal internet icon.”

You shrugged, feigning indifference while they exchanged a look that practically screamed, amateur. They started talking all at once, dropping cryptic phrases like “too hot to handle,” “you’re gonna die,” and, “you’ll never look at men the same way again.”

So there you were that night, alone with your laptop, curled up in bed and biting your lip as you debated whether to type it in. It’s just curiosity, you reasoned. Research purposes.

Your eyes widened as the screen filled with… well, humanity, in all its naked, unfiltered glory. Your face heated up so fast you could’ve sworn it was the same shade as your throw pillow. Videos lined up like some weird buffet, titles more scandalous than anything you’d ever whispered in confession, and… was that a whole category devoted to delivery men? You slapped a hand over your mouth to stop from yelping, mortified at the intensity of it all. 

“I need to go to church after this,” you muttered, squinting like that would somehow censor the thorough dedication people were showing in their, uh, procreation endeavors.

“SergeantBarnes,” you muttered to yourself as you typed, fingers hovering uncertainly over the Enter key. Then, with a sigh, you hit search, and… oh.

You nearly choked on oxygen. Because there he was, in HD glory, right on Pornhub, with that cocky grin and those blue eyes that looked like they’d been crafted in a lab. And he wasn’t just standing there looking smug—oh, no, he was on a mission, shirtless, flexing, and smirking at the camera like he was the world’s best-kept secret. The scene panned to him sitting on the edge of a bed, peeling off his belt with one hand, a glint in his eyes that seemed to say, this is what you came for.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, equal parts horrified and morbidly fascinated, as he proceeded to… well, get very familiar with his costar. SergeantBarnes was apparently an expert at multitasking, using every muscle, every inch of his well-equipped arsenal. And the way he was delivering lines? He was clearly treating the camera like it was his soulmate.

By minute two, your jaw had dropped. By minute five, you’d set the laptop on your nightstand to “watch responsibly.” By minute ten, you were convinced Amy and Trish had permanently ruined your life.

And the costar—she was practically putting on an Oscar-worthy performance, her reactions so intense you half expected her to start speaking in tongues. Every time SergeantBarnes’s… rod of justice plunges deep inside, she gasps like she was witnessing a miracle. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Come on, is that really necessary?

As you watched, he gave a low, rumbling sound—half growl, half sigh—that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. His gaze burned through the screen with a confidence that was practically magnetic, and suddenly, you understood exactly why the costar was gasping. A new, unbidden heat pooled between your legs, making you shift uncomfortably, instinctively pressing your thighs together as if that could somehow stop the flush creeping up your face. Oh no, now I wish I were her, you thought, immediately cringing at yourself.

With a mix of half-laughter and half-horror, you reached over and slammed the laptop shut so fast it was like you were trying to save yourself from spontaneous combustion. 

“Holy—oh, wow,” you whispered, pressing a hand to your face. “Okay. That was a one-time thing.”

Or so you thought.

Except now, every time you even glanced at your laptop, SergeantBarnes was right there in your mind, reminding you exactly why he was internet-famous. It was becoming a bit of a problem.

× × × ×

The next morning, you stumbled out of your apartment, looking like something that had been left out in the rain and dragged through a blender, mentally cursing last night’s “research” session. The world had no right to be this bright, and your regret levels were at an all-time high as you lugged the world’s heaviest box down the hallway.

You were so absorbed in avoiding a complete breakdown that you barely registered the deep, too-familiar voice beside you.

“Need help with that?”

“Thanks, but I got it,” you muttered automatically, barely sparing him a glance.

Except...then you did.

You looked up, squinting in confusion. Because, standing in front of you, in the perfectly mundane hallway of your perfectly mundane building, was him.

You froze, your brain spinning like a buffering screen. Okay, this guy’s insanely handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, stubbled jaw, eyes so blue they should have a health warning on them. You stared, mentally cataloging each feature, when—wait a minute... WAIT. A. MINUTE.

Your eyes narrowed, suspicion prickling as your brain finally fired up. Is that…? No, it can’t be.

But it was. Oh, it absolutely was. 

SergeantBarnes, the very star of last night’s “educational” viewing, right here in the flesh. And suddenly, like a tractor beam had locked onto you, your gaze dropped right to his crotch, where you’d witnessed things you could never un-see.

This, of course, did not go unnoticed. His brows shot up as he followed your very obvious, very treacherous line of sight, glancing down at his jeans before looking back up at you with an infuriatingly smug grin.

“Uh… nice shoes?” you blurted out, your face feeling like it was on fire. You vaguely gestured to his boots, wishing you could vanish right into the walls.

“Thanks,” he replied smoothly, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “They’re pretty sturdy. But, you know…” He paused, his voice dropping just a hair. “I don’t think they’re what you were looking at.”

Your heart sank as you forced yourself to look up, his amused blue eyes practically laughing at you. Abort. Abort mission. Oh God, we are way past mission failure.

“Uh—no, I just… um…” You floundered, desperately trying to think of something, anything, that might save you from the hole you’d dug. But no words came. Not even the faintest semblance of a coherent thought. Just one long, silent scream echoing in your brain.

“Bucky,” he offered helpfully, sticking out his hand like he wasn’t SergeantBarnes from Pornhub, but just some guy offering to help with a box. “New neighbor, by the way.”

You stared at his hand like it was a booby trap, your brain short-circuiting as it reminded you exactly where those fingers had been. That hand had gripped… things. It had been places you’d only dreamed of, doing things you’d probably need a core workout just to survive. You could practically see the “viewer discretion advised” warning flashing in your head as you hesitated, still staring at his hand as if it might explode.

But, against your better judgment—and every shred of dignity—you slowly reached out and shook it, feeling your own fingers betray you by sweating as they made contact with his very… experienced ones.

“Uh… hi… I’m… yep.” you blurted, mentally cringing.

“‘Yep’? That’s a good name,” he said, smirking as he let go. “You sure you don’t need help? You seem… a little flustered.”

Flustered? Understatement of the century. If your dignity had been a cup, it was empty, bone-dry, and cracked. You forced yourself to focus, eyes straight forward, pointedly ignoring the very tempting crotch-level view. 

“I’m fine! Totally fine!” you squeaked, cringing at your own voice. Oh God, calm down!

But he just chuckled, that same dangerously cocky smile from last night plastered all over his face. “Alright, Yep. Guess I’ll see you around.”

As he turned to leave, you stood there in the hallway, clutching the box like it was a life raft, heart racing a mile a minute. You’d just had a very public staring incident with SergeantBarnes, your new neighbor, and all you’d managed to say was nice shoes.

I’m gonna need new coworkers, you thought, practically burying your face in the box as you scurried to your apartment.

The door slammed shut with a bang that could probably be heard across state lines. You dropped the box unceremoniously, ignoring the loud thunk as it hit the floor, and whipped your phone out, fingers flying across the screen like you were composing a manifesto.

Guys, you’re NEVER gonna guess who my neighbor is—

You paused, staring at the screen as the rest of the text formed in your mind: THE SergeantBarnes. LIVE. IN. THE. FLESH.

But then another thought stopped you dead in your tracks. Oh no.

You could already picture it: Amy and Trish showing up like rabid fangirls in their “I Heart SergeantBarnes” merch, carrying suspiciously flimsy plates of brownies. Trish would have binoculars. Amy would be taking notes, probably trying to “accidentally” leave her phone number under his door. You shuddered, imagining them cornering him by the mailboxes, all of them acting like they were definitely not the type of women who had his entire catalog bookmarked on their phones.

A horrible realization hit you. If I tell them, this man’s gonna be living a nightmare right next door to me. Not just a nightmare, a Trish-and-Amy-sponsored fan club nightmare, where they might even break into song—probably chanting, “SergeantBarnes! SergeantBarnes!” while he tries to get his groceries.

You looked back at your unsent message and deleted it in one go, feeling weirdly proud of yourself. Yeah, no. I’m not letting them anywhere near him.

Totally altruistic, of course. It had nothing to do with keeping the eye candy to yourself.

You took a deep breath, looking around your empty apartment like you were expecting the FBI to burst through the door at any second. Sure, you’d just been in the hallway with the actual SergeantBarnes, but maybe… maybe you were imagining things. It had been a long day. Moving was stressful. Stranger things had happened, right?

With a surge of resolve (and denial), you dashed to your bedroom, practically sliding across the floor as you went. Your laptop was waiting innocently on the nightstand, and with a quick glance over your shoulder to ensure you were still alone, you opened it up, clicked incognito mode like you were hiding state secrets, and went straight to the website you’d sworn off only hours ago.

“Alright… just to confirm,” you muttered to yourself, feeling your cheeks burn as you typed SergeantBarnes into the search bar, mentally bracing yourself for the flood of results.

And there he was. The whole page filled with him, in various… positions. You swallowed, scrolling until one video caught your eye: “Sergeant Disciplines the Bratty Recruit.”

You snorted, almost slamming the laptop shut. “Oh, for heaven’s sake…”

But curiosity was a dangerous beast, and before you could talk yourself out of it, your finger had already clicked play.

The video started, with SergeantBarnes in all his glory, wearing what looked like the world’s tightest military uniform. His face was as smug as ever, that telltale glint of mischief in his eyes as he muttered something absurd like, “Think you can handle me, recruit?”

“Oh my god,” you whispered, cringing as you half-covered your eyes but peeked through your fingers anyway.

But there was no denying it—the face, the voice, the ridiculous, smoldering look into the camera. There was no escaping it now. It was 100% him. The same guy who was now living approximately ten feet away from your own front door.

As the video continued, your disbelief only grew. This man… this man is next door, could eating cereal right now, you thought, torn between horrified fascination and the urge to laugh. Because there he was, in full “disciplinary action” mode, doing things you could barely process, and here you were, watching it again, just to make sure it was really him.

“Oh, I’m doomed,” you muttered, slapping the laptop shut. You weren’t even sure if you were embarrassed, impressed, or maybe just a little terrified of your own neighbor.

× × × ×

Over the next few days, it was like living in a twisted sitcom. Everywhere you went, he was there, lurking like some kind of sexy, mildly inconvenient specter. It was uncanny. You’d turn a corner, and bam—there he’d be, giving you that polite nod and a smirk that clearly said, I know exactly what you’ve seen.

It started small. You’d step into the elevator, praying for a peaceful ride, and ding! in he’d stroll, flashing that devastating grin. Instantly, you’d stiffen, gluing yourself to the opposite wall, practically trying to meld with the buttons, heart pounding like you were about to pass out. You couldn’t even look him in the eye without flashes of his, uh, “filmography” playing in your mind. Every single time, without fail, you found yourself studying the very clean floor of the elevator as he leaned casually against the wall, the corners of his mouth tugging up.

“Nice day, isn’t it?” he’d ask, all smooth, innocent charm. Meanwhile, you were there like, Oh, totally, perfect day to run into my favorite Pornhub star.

You were in the laundry room, blissfully alone, humming to yourself as you separated your clothes like a responsible adult. Whites here, colors there, delicates—well, you were kind of just tossing them wherever at this point. Then, suddenly, you felt it: a shift in the air, a presence. You froze, the hair on the back of your neck standing up, a sock suspended mid-toss in your hand. Why do I feel like the music should be getting dramatic right about now?

Slowly, as if sensing his approach, you turned. And there he was—Bucky, striding in with a laundry basket filled with a suspiciously pristine pile of perfectly folded, incredibly manly clothing. It was as if he’d just stepped out of some kind of… laundry commercial. Or worse… one of his own videos.

You blinked, eyes widening as a thousand clichés suddenly flashed through your mind. Oh no, why does this feel like the start of a porn? you thought, biting your lip as you realized the two of you were, in fact, very alone, surrounded by washing machines and suspiciously warm lighting. You mentally kicked yourself. Snap out of it! This is laundry. Regular, boring laundry.

Bucky caught your eye, giving you an amused once-over. “Doing some laundry?” he asked, his voice low and casual, but somehow it felt like the most suggestive question in the world.

You opened your mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Uh-huh,” you managed, trying to sound like a normal human being. “Just, uh… laundry.”

Your face felt like it was on fire as you realized half of your load was underwear, strewn everywhere. Panties, bras, socks—they were all there in their mismatched glory, practically screaming, We’re personal items! Pay extra attention! You yanked your gaze away from the pile, mortified, and flung the sock into the washer like you were trying to disarm a bomb.

You slammed the washer lid down, feeling like you’d just revealed way too much. But Bucky only grinned, strolling over with that maddening swagger. He tossed a shirt into the washer beside you, leaning against it with a smirk.

“Nice sorting skills,” he commented, eyes flicking down to the very obvious pile of bras and lace that you’d tried to hide. “Very… thorough.”

“Yep!” you squeaked, feeling like you might explode. You fumbled with the detergent bottle, struggling to open it as your brain went into full-blown panic mode. Why does this feel like one of those videos? Don’t look at him. Just don’t look. Pretend you’re alone. Pretend this is fine.

But of course, he wasn’t making it any easier. He folded his arms, watching you with a raised brow, the picture of calm while you were desperately trying to load underwear without dying of embarrassment. 

“You know,” he said, clearly holding back a laugh, “usually people try to separate colors from whites.”

“Oh, I do! I mean, I… it’s a system,” you stammered, feeling like you were caught in a lie by the laundry police. “Sometimes it’s… it’s an artistic choice.”

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with that insufferable amusement. “Artistic laundry, huh? Didn’t take you for the experimental type.”

“Yep,” you said, forcing a laugh as you stuffed in the last sock, your hands moving at lightning speed, desperate to finish and escape.

But as you turned to leave, he held up a stray bra that had somehow escaped your grasp, dangling it between two fingers with a raised eyebrow. 

“You forgot this,” he said, voice dripping with that same mischievous humor.

You stared at the bra in horror, feeling your face go molten. 

“Uh… thanks,” you mumbled, practically ripping it out of his hand and stuffing it into the washer, slamming the lid down one last time before you spun on your heel and speed-walked out of there.

Behind you, you heard him chuckle softly, his voice echoing in the hallway. “See you around, neighbor.”

Yep, you thought, already halfway down the hall, never doing laundry again.

By day three, it got ridiculous. You’d ducked into the mailroom, hoping he was out doing normal human things—maybe mowing a lawn or whatever. But no, as soon as you opened your mailbox, there he was, standing by his own, sorting through a stack of letters. You froze, briefly considering whether you could just flee and come back later for your electric bill.

And then… the grocery bag incident.

You were in the hallway, arms overloaded with bags because, naturally, you’d ignored the cart right by the entrance and had instead decided to carry it all in one go. You were so close to your door when you heard footsteps behind you.

“Need help?” he asked, that voice making you nearly fumble every bag in your arms.

You turned, scrambling to say, “No, I’m good,” but of course, in your panic, one of your bags tipped, and a lone, horrifying item fell out and hit the floor. You watched, paralyzed, as the little bottle of lube rolled out with an audible clatter, spinning lazily to a stop right in front of him.

You could practically feel the heat exploding from your cheeks. No. Oh no. Not like this.

You looked up, meeting his amused, slightly raised eyebrows as his lips twitched, clearly fighting a smile. 

“Uh,” you choked out, unable to form a single coherent sentence. Think fast, make it sound normal, you told yourself, even though every possible explanation was racing out of your head.

He bent down, picking up the bottle with a glint of pure mischief in his eyes, inspecting it like he’d just found evidence of some grand crime.

“Hey, everyone’s got needs,” he said, deadpan, but that twinkle in his eye was anything but innocent. “Don’t worry.” He tossed you a wink, handing the bottle back like it was no big deal.

Your mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as your brain scrambled to form a sentence. Finally, the words tumbled out like a train wreck, your dignity left somewhere back at the grocery store.

“It’s… it’s for my friend,” you squeaked, clutching the lube bottle with both hands like it was a sacred artifact. He raised an eyebrow, looking entirely too entertained for your liking. “She’s, uh, she’s constipated.”

A moment of silence.

“She needs it to… you know, help with a suppository.” You forced a grin that you were sure looked more like a grimace. “She, uh… can’t get things moving. Really jammed up in there.”

Bucky’s face twisted in barely suppressed laughter, and his shoulders shook as he struggled to keep a straight face. 

“Right,” he drawled, nodding with an expression that was one part pity and two parts are you for real? “That’s… thoughtful of you.”

You felt like you were overheating, a human furnace on the verge of combustion. 

“She’s desperate!” you blurted, doubling down on your ridiculous story, even though every fiber of your being was screaming to stop talking. “I’m just being a good friend, you know? Supportive. I mean, she’s the one who’s backed up.”

He nodded again, still fighting a smile, the look in his eyes a mix of amusement and something else that made your pulse race. 

“Sure,” he said, “nothing like helping a friend in need.” He paused, that wicked smile growing as he added, “In my experience, though, there are plenty of other uses for it.”

Your soul left your body.

He held out his hands in mock innocence, chuckling as your eyes widened to saucers. 

“Just saying,” he winked. “Versatile stuff.�� 

And with that, he turned, strolling down the hall with a casual wave, leaving you frozen and mortified, clutching the bottle to your chest like a lifeline.

“Gotta… go,” you managed, voice barely a whisper, stumbling the last few steps to your door as you fumbled with the keys, practically falling inside.

The second the door shut behind you, you pressed your back against it, staring at the ceiling and whispering, “I’m never leaving my apartment again.”

Just as you were about to bury your face in your hands and live in the sweet, silent embrace of shame, your phone buzzed. You pulled it out, still reeling from the lube disaster, and saw a text from your friend, Clara.

Clara: Hey!! Did you get the lube?? Need it ASAP, things are… not moving over here, if you catch my drift.

You groaned, staring at the message, letting it sink in that yes, this entire disaster had been real. 

You: Yes. Got it. Never speaking of this again.

Clara: Bless you, you lifesaver. My digestive system owes you a standing ovation.

You rolled your eyes, still red-faced. Clara had no idea you’d just had to explain the entire situation to your painfully attractive neighbor—who now likely thought you were a walking sitcom.

× × × ×

It started subtly—just a little teasing, or so you thought. But it quickly spiraled into a game you could only describe as Bucky Barnes: Merciless Teasing—Extended Cut. Every time you crossed paths, he managed to twist the knife just a little deeper, making you sweat, stumble, and practically choke on your own words.

The first time it happened, you were hauling a huge box out of your car, trying to look capable and independent, when he strolled up beside you, leaning against the car with a smirk.

“You act like I’m a celebrity,” he said, eyebrow cocked. “Every time you see me, you look ready to run.”

You fumbled, nearly dropping the box. 

“Nope! I’m just…uh, busy!” you squeaked, scrambling to walk away at top speed, box clutched to your chest like a shield. But you caught his laugh as you rushed off, making you want to evaporate on the spot.

The next time, you were in the stairwell, headphones in, desperately trying to avoid any more awkward run-ins. Naturally, the moment you looked up, there he was, lounging at the landing like some kind of paid actor in a commercial. You froze mid-step as he raised a brow.

“Look at that,” he said, giving you the once-over, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost every time you see me. Is it something I did?”

You stammered, turning pink. 

“No! Just, uh… headphones! Music! Loud music!” you blurted, before speed-walking up the stairs, praying he didn’t hear the Spice Girls song you’d been blasting. Behind you, his chuckle echoed up the stairwell like the final taunt of a villain.

But the absolute worst came at the coffee shop.

You were in line, looking at your phone, hoping you could just breeze in and out. The moment you placed your order and turned to leave, there he was, standing right behind you, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Hey, neighbor,” he drawled, eyeing your coffee cup like it was some incriminating evidence. “Funny running into you here. Or… do you keep running into me?”

Your face flushed, and you tried to think of something clever, but it was like all your brain cells had gone on vacation. 

“Nope! Definitely just getting coffee! I don’t even… live near here!” you babbled, immediately regretting everything.

“Oh, interesting,” he replied, his grin widening. “Because I could swear you live right next door. But hey, if you want to keep pretending you don’t know me, I’ll go along with it.” He handed you your coffee with a wink. “See you around… or not.”

But things took a turn for the mortifying when, one evening, you were pacing the hallway on the phone with Clara, trying to vent without actually collapsing in a pile of awkwardness.

“It’s him, Clara!” you hissed, oblivious to the fact that you were pacing right outside Bucky’s door. “I’m living next door to SergeantBarnes! Can you believe this? I’ve seen everything he has to offer! I’ve practically studied him!”

Clara was howling with laughter, but you were too wrapped up in your frustration to care.

“And he knows, Clara! He keeps showing up everywhere, saying stuff like, ‘You seem nervous’ and ‘You keep looking at me like you know something I don’t.’ I swear, he’s doing it on purpose!” You paused, sighing dramatically. “The man is basically torturing me!”

“Yeah?” Clara snorted. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

“Nothing! I’m gonna hide in my apartment forever! I mean, the guy is—” You froze mid-sentence, sensing a presence that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Please, for the love of all that is holy, no.

You slowly turned, and there he was. Bucky. Leaning against his door, arms crossed, looking like he’d just won the freaking lottery.

“Oh… my god…” you whispered, feeling your soul leave your body. He was watching you with an expression of pure, unfiltered amusement, one eyebrow quirked, lips pulled into that infuriating, knowing smirk.

“Well,” he said, voice laced with mischief. “That makes one of us.” His eyes glinted with barely-contained laughter. “And here I thought you were just a fan of my boots.”

You could practically feel your brain cells going up in smoke. 

“I… uh… well… I…” you stammered, cheeks burning. “Boots… are great,” you managed, wanting to sink into the earth.

“Yeah? Because I seem to remember you looking… elsewhere last time,” he teased, stepping a little closer, enjoying every second of your embarrassment.

“Oh, no! Just… boots!” you squeaked, backing up, practically tripping over yourself. “I really should go… water my… uh… plants!”

He chuckled, savoring every second of your panic. “Good luck with that,” he said, throwing in one last wink as he slipped back into his apartment, leaving you in the hallway, feeling like you’d just gone through a slow-motion car crash.

Back in your apartment, you slid down the door, hands over your face as Clara’s laughter erupted over the phone.

“Boots?” she howled. “THAT’S what you went with? Boots?”

You groaned, banging your head back against the door. “Shut up, Clara.”

× × × ×

Determined to reclaim a shred of your dignity, you strode into the local coffee shop, praying for a quiet morning with zero embarrassing encounters. But, as if on cue, the universe had other plans.

There, right at the counter, was Bucky. He spotted you instantly, his face lighting up with that all-too-familiar grin that had haunted your dreams. There was no escape.

He waved you over, and before you could even think of pretending you hadn’t seen him, he was calling out, “Morning, neighbor! What’s your coffee order again?” His voice was loud enough that half the shop turned to look.

“Oh, um… it’s…” you stammered, but he’d already waved to the barista.

“Got it covered,” he said, leaning casually against the counter, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ve got a feeling you like it with extra cream.”

You choked on your own saliva, feeling your face turn crimson as he handed you the cup with a wink. 

“Unless I’m wrong?” he added with a smirk, feigning innocence.

“N-Nope, that’s right!” you managed, grabbing the cup like it was a shield. “Extra cream… perfect.”

He chuckled, gesturing to an empty booth in the corner. “Great. Then you won’t mind sitting down with me for breakfast.”

“Oh no, really, I should—”

He raised an eyebrow. “What, got somewhere better to be?”

You froze, helplessly aware that the entire coffee shop was listening in. You managed a nervous laugh, mumbling, “Well… no, I guess not…”

Before you knew it, you were sitting across from him, desperately trying to keep your eyes anywhere but his face, your cheeks burning as he sipped his coffee and watched you with a smug smile.

“So,” he said, leaning forward, “what’s a girl like you doing watching a guy like me online, anyway?”

Your jaw dropped, coffee cup halfway to your mouth. “I—I wasn’t watching—It was research!” you spluttered, already kicking yourself for falling right into his trap.

He chuckled, clearly reveling in your embarrassment. 

“Oh, sure, ‘research,’” he said, nodding like he totally believed you. “I get it. You know, it’s important to be informed.”

You practically shrank into your seat, glancing around to see if anyone else had heard. “Could you not say that so loudly?”

He smirked, taking a long, deliberate sip of his coffee. 

“Relax, I’m just curious,” he said, leaning in close enough that you could smell his aftershave. “Gotta say, it’s a little flattering to have a fan right next door.”

Your brain completely short-circuited. “Fan? I—no! I mean, not like that… I… I barely even…” You could feel the lie crumbling in your throat as his smirk deepened.

“Uh-huh. Then why did you look like you were about to sprint every time you saw me?” He tilted his head, studying you, eyes twinkling. “And I swear you turned pink the second you walked in here.”

Your hands shot up, covering your cheeks. “I did not! You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” he said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Because it’s like clockwork. Every time I’m around, you look like you’ve been caught red-handed. I don’t mind, you know,” he added, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

You let out a strangled laugh, ready to crawl under the table. 

“That’s… obvious,” you muttered, feeling as though you might combust at any second.

“Okay, so since we’re having breakfast together, how about you tell me: any favorite scenes?” He laughed, looking entirely too amused as he stirred his coffee.

You practically choked on your coffee, face flaming as you tried to hide behind your cup. 

“I—I can’t believe you just asked that!” you squeaked, horrified and unable to meet his gaze.

“Oh, come on,” he grinned, clearly enjoying every second. “It’s just small talk. I mean, who better to ask than a neighbor?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Can we please pretend this conversation never happened?”

“Nope. Can’t do that,” he replied, laughing. “I think it’s a little late for that.”

Just as you were starting to pray for an earthquake to swallow you whole, you glanced up at him, cheeks still flaming. 

“Did you… did you know I recognized you this whole time?”

He leaned back, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. 

“Of course I did,” he said, laughing. “Figured it out the second I saw that look on your face. I just wanted to see if you’d ever bring it up.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, feeling mortification seep into your very bones. “And you kept messing with me?”

“Of course,” he said, raising an eyebrow with a wicked grin. “I was just waiting to see how long it would take for you to crack. Guess now the ice is broken, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You’re the worst.”

He winked, finishing his coffee. “Yeah, but I make breakfast interesting, don’t I?”

You laughed, feeling the last traces of embarrassment fade away—well, at least enough to breathe normally again. But just as you started to feel almost… comfortable, Bucky tilted his head, giving you a curious look.

“So, neighbor,” he said, smirking, “I’ve gotta ask… what’s your name?”

You blinked, realizing with a jolt that you’d never actually told him. In all your attempts to dodge, deflect, and survive the relentless teasing, you hadn’t even bothered to introduce yourself.

“Oh… right,” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “I, uh, guess I never actually said.”

“Nope,” he replied, leaning in with a grin. “I just assumed you wanted to keep a little mystery between us.”

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “Trust me, I’m not that mysterious.”

“Really?” he replied, eyebrows raised. “Because all this time I’ve been calling you ‘Yep.’”

Your face went red as you remembered the first time you’d stammered a barely coherent “yep” instead of an introduction. “Oh my god. You haven’t been calling me that in your head this whole time, have you?”

He shrugged, smirking. “It’s kind of cute. Suits you, actually.”

You groaned, but laughed despite yourself, finally holding out your hand across the table. “Alright. I’m Y/N. Officially.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, taking your hand, his grip warm and firm. His smirk softened into something a little more genuine. “Good to meet you, Y/N. Officially.”

His hand lingered in yours for a beat longer than necessary, and for a moment, there was no teasing, no innuendos—just the two of you, sitting across the table, smiling like two normal people who’d just met under… semi-normal circumstances.

Then, just as you were starting to think maybe, just maybe, you could get used to this weirdly charming neighbor situation, he leaned back, that mischievous glint creeping back into his eyes.

“Now that we’re on a first-name basis,” he said, winking, “you can tell me all about your favorite scenes. You know, for professional feedback.”

You burst out laughing, face in your hands as he watched you with a triumphant grin. Yep, you thought, already regretting nothing and everything.

[applejuicebegood]

The Softest of Jason Todd HCs

Fem!Reader A/N: Some of these were originally conceived for the lovely, talented, wonderful @midnightorchids. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FALLOW HER RIGHT NOW

Masterlist

Jason fell for you slowly. It was the kinda falling that took on the form of severe distraction and confusion during his patrol time. The only spot in his second life he had crafted into hours of precise control and expectancy. He hated how, as he was clicking a mag into his handgun, his mind would flash to your smiling, blushed face. He hated how you would unintentionally make him trip and stumble over the roof-tops of Gotham. He hated how recalling the chime of your laugh made his hands sweaty under his leather gloves. He hated how he had to take off his helmet in the seclusion of an abandoned wear-house because recalling how his hand slipped in to your on your last date made his face heat up to the point where he felt like he would pass out.

Once he realised that the nervous pounding in his gut whenever your shoulders brushed was in-fact caused from a growing crush on you, he panicked. The eventual confession was awkward and stumbled, him making it clear that he needed time and room to figure it out. He took your smaller hands into his, promising that no matter what, for now he would figure it out with you at his side. Of course you agreed, squeezing his hands in confirmation.

Ya'll are soulmates, period. Very big 'he is half of my soul' energy. Your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. Your words have already been said by the other before you can string them together in your head. You share in each-others grief and rage. Five years into the relationship, Jason knew you so well (and being raised in a family of detectives) that you would never have to explain your frustration or annoyance - and on days like that he would always be ready to wrap you up in a weighted blanket, forcing a cup of raspberry tea into your cold hands and his headphones over your ears with one of his audiobooks already playing. Carrying you to your shared bed for you to fall asleep leaned up against his chest, his thick arms wrapped tightly around you.

Despite his availability of wealth and status, he keeps your date-night very low-key and personal. On his off days from Red-Hooding, both of you would have cooking nights. Where you would sway and giggle with the slow drift of music coming from the kitchen radio. You would make something hearty and filling. You wanting to see Jason sigh in the comfort of good food. You both would curl up with your steaming bowls on your couch, probably watching Tangled (at your request). It's all extremely cozy, Jason smiling into your skin as gratitude blooms in his chest for you. For having created this safe, hidden expanse of reassurance. All while the harsh Gotham wind whipped just outside your window.

This man is smitten- he worships you entirely. His is in awe of you, even as both of you grow old, his love and his care for you never relents or dwindles.

Ya'll would go to museums and art galleries and he would point at statues and paintings of goddess and queens and say 'you', under his breath. It's so horribly corny but it makes you hold his arm just a bit tighter every time.

After you both moved in together, he developed a habit of making your coffee alongside his and bringing it to you in bed in the mornings. This eventually just became your routine on weekends when you both had enough time to bask in the slow creeping of sunlight over each-others skin.

He's a romantic at heart, a part of him you had to slowly unearth under years of torment and blood. You were the one to force him out of his cave of isolation and into the reality of him deserving softness and joy. It's a dept you have assured him he doesn't need to pay back. That doesn't stop him from trying.

Giggles and smiles like a little boy if you kiss his forehead, specifically at the roots of his white streak. You think it's one of the prettiest things about him.

Unintentional scary dog when you guys are out together. He's got his hand laced with yours or floating somewhere on your hip or lower back. It's mostly due to his anxiety, constantly having his head on a swivel. It's all heightened due to the fact that he has the most precious, important individual standing next to him. Whether it's at one of his Dad's galla's or trips to the local library, he likes to have you near him.

Bitch has multiple playlists made about/for you (a lot of Noah Kahn and TV Girl)

Example:

A/N: I may be gay but I have a very special place for sappy Jason in my heart. Please send in any requests regarding our boy (or any of the bat boys or girls)- I really love writing for the people in this fandom.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

30 / 1.1k / soap soulmate au, part 7

...

The minutes tick by. You're alone with your thoughts. It's worse than before. But what are you supposed to tell him? All but the smallest thing you could give him would lead his entire team to Captain Graves, and you... you can't do that. You owe him a debt.

The door slams open and Soap walks back in, looking tired and angry. Before you can speak, he grabs you by the arm, drags you out of your chair, and then he's kissing you, pressing you up against the wall. His hands are in your hair and on your hips, his hard body against yours, his teeth finding the place where your neck meets your shoulder.

Everything about it is possessive, angry, desperate. One hand slides around to your ass. The other weaves tighter into your hair, holding you tight between him and the wall, his hips grinding into yours.

"Thought I was gonna have to wait till you stopped being so damn stubborn. You were never going to tell me, were you?" His soft growl is low, heated, and hurt. "You’re always gonna keep this to yourself. Even if it means letting me go to my grave."

He pulls you away from the wall and pushes you into the metal interrogation table with enough force to put you on your back. He advances on you. Straddles you. His mouth is hot and he's not giving you time to think. He's taking what he needs because he wants it, he's tired of waiting for it, and he's finally got you where he wants you. His teeth on your throat have you arching your back. His grip is tight but you don't want to escape.

His fingers dig into you. "Will you even miss me?"

You open your eyes, jolting in place. A dream, it was a dream. You're still cuffed to this stupid chair. You're hot and wet and there's a horrible knot in your throat.

The door slides open. That's what woke you--activity outside. A few people filter into the weapons closet briefly to grab rifles and sidearms. They hardly spare you looks. They leave; the voices outside begin to fade and you hear an engine firing up. Muted panic rises in your gut. They're about to leave. Are they leaving you here? Is Johnny gone already?

Then the door rattles softly and Johnny's familiar shape slips in. He glances back out the door, watching for anyone who might’ve seen him slip in before he closes it. You release a breath through gritted teeth.

"Mornin’.” Soap is suited up, radioed, armed to the teeth. Looking every inch the soldier he is. Your heart sinks. You're in deep. No matter how this situation turns out, it's not good for you. Whoever wins, you lose.

Instead of taking the chair, he circles behind you. You rattle your cuffs as he leaves your line of sight.

"Change your mind?" he asks you.

"No."

He chuckles. "Thought not."

He bends closer. Your heart races. You half-expect to feel his hands--your dream flashes through your mind--but then, to your surprise, you hear the soft clink of metal on metal. He pulls on the cuffs. One falls away. Then the other.

You get to your feet, curling and uncurling your fingers. "Why are you letting me go?" you ask, voice still sharp. "I told you I'm not helping you."

Soap looks bemused. It's like you don't know how to stop being belligerent even when you're not a hostage anymore. "Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. I’m under strict orders not to let you leave this room. But if you just so happen to vanish..." He holds up the key--the one he'd swiped from Ghost earlier. "That’d be fine with me.”

“What are you playing at?”

“There's a chance none of us will come back. Don't like the idea of you sittin' here like a rabbit in a trap for God knows how long." He holds out a neat little square of folded cash. When you don't take it, he reaches around and slips it into your back pocket. "There's a town four miles southwest of here. Set off in a half hour and you’ll get there before sundown. Take somethin' off the wall to protect yourself."

You stare at him, your frustration growing with every word he says. Why does he trust you enough to free you? Why? He knows very well you could pick up the first phone you see, call your Captain, and tell him everything. Hell, you could call Shepherd.

You tried your dead fucking best to show him who you are. Why doesn't he believe you? Does he think you're going to grab his hand and ask him to come with you--fuck the Shadows, fuck Las Almas, you know how to buy fake IDs and burner phones, you'll figure it out a day at a time?

Your throat tightens. You could obviously never say that. And if you did consider it, you'd bite your tongue because there's no way he'd accept. You have so much to gain from running away and he has too much to lose. He cares about his team too much.

He skims his gloved fingertips up your arm and goes to touch your cheek again, but then he hesitates and stops himself. You feel radioactive.

"How 'bout a kiss for the road?" he asks. He seems to decide on taking a strand of your hair and places it tentatively behind your ear. "Just in case."

Your hands tighten into fists. How dare he.

"Aw, c'mon. Don't make me walk away from you disappointed." He gives you a small, infuriating smile.

"If you want a kiss, then come back for it when you're done."

"Ah. Fair enough."

He brings his hands up to the sides of your face and presses his lips to your hairline anyway, leaning into you for a long, silent moment.

Then he's gone.

…

You sit cross-legged on that table for a long stretch of time, spinning in one hand the handcuffs that held you. You stare at that photograph and count the seconds. At thirty minutes, you set off, walking southwest.

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / [part 7] / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12

more Soap / masterlist tag

[whirlybirbs]

BEYOND THE VOID — !

1. THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

( MASTERPOST   |   AO3  |    SPOTIFY ) summary: torn from time yet again, it's thursday. six months pass. while you grapple with a newfound uncanny ability to premeditate, loki grapples with the fact he's slipping back into his old self without you. enter brad wolfe. now playing:  a whole lots gonna change by weyes blood word count: 3.3k pairing: loki / f!reader, established in from the void, with love tags: enemies to friends to lovers, soulmates, we-are-in-love-in-the-future but how did that even happen, angst & comfort, redemption arc, lots of time travel, loki season 2 (2020) spoilers a/n: finally, they return in "beyond the void". i can't thank everyone enough for the unending enthusiasm for this little project of mine. it's fitting to have the first chapter release with an eclipse. this is for all of you :) the beautiful gif for this chapter is from this set by @tomshiddles.

"Okay."

"Okay."

There's a long stretch of silence between Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster. 

In the liminal stretch of the apartment building's hall, there's little sound except the loud drone of some horribly, desperately sad song beyond the door of Unit 1131. The two women share a long look with one another, and then Darcy gestures urgently to the door.

"Go ahead," she nudges her colleague. 

"What?" Jane asks in a harsh whisper, "No, you knock." 

"You were the one that said we needed to do an intervention—" Darcy argues back in an equally low tone.

"Oh, so now this is on me?" Jane fires back, "She's our friend—"

"Our friend who has been babbling nonsense about things that have not happened and has been seriously obsessing with that Low-key dude—" Darcy rushes out, bringing her face closer to Jane's, "I don't even know what we're walking into here!"

Jane inhales. She pinches her brow. With a long rub of her face, she exhales. Then, she knocks.

She gives Darcy a 'happy?' look before stepping back and crossing her arms.

Almost immediately, the music stops. There's the sound of a shuffle. A meow. And then, the door opens only wide enough that one exhausted eye can peak through the chained gap.

"Heeeeeeeeeey, girl!" Darcy chides, waggling her hands in the air, "Surprise!"

On the other side of the door, your heart clenches. 

It feels a little bit like a cruel joke, y'know?

All that wishing, begging, clawing to go home and — well... you are. You're home. You've been home. For six months, you've been home in New York City. You're back in that little studio apartment, with Sigurd, with your research, with your doctorate. 

ALL I WANT  TO DO IS  GO HOME.

You try your best to give both Darcy and Jane a smile, but it comes out mangled and exhausted and not quite right. You've been crying. Sort of par for the course these days.

"Oh, uh... Hi guys."

Sigurd meows.

"You got a sec?" Jane asks, raising a folder in her hands, "We, uh... Erik gave us some new anomaly data to look over and we figured... you're the one for the job! Y'know? It's... kinda... your thing... have you been crying?"

Your eyes dart between them both. You wet your lips.

"No. Nooo, no. It's..." your mouth hangs open as you search for a reason, "...Allergies."

There's a beat of embarrassing silence, and then Darcy moves fast as lightning. She wriggles her arm through the gap and unlocks the chain — almost as if this is definitely something she's mastered before — before pushing her way through the doorway of your apartment. Jane follows close behind, and Sigard squawks as he scurries away from underfoot. 

The infiltration is almost immediately regretted because... woah. 

Like, big woah.

Darcy has seen crazy. Like, she has an Uncle on her Dad's side who is totally in on the whole "they're coming for our thoughts" thing and does not leave the house without at least six layers of Great Value tinfoil stuffed under his baseball cap. She knows crazy. She works for Erik Selvig. 

But this?

This is, like, soooooo above her pay grade. 

Jane's jaw is slack. The folder is immediately forgotten on the kitchen island in favor of the wall-to-wall documentation of... whatever the hell this was. 

LOKI MISSING? in the center of it all, with string and equations and runes and news articles and tabloid pages. There's an alarming amount of photos of the God in question pinned up beside ramblings on... Time? And... Quantum mechanics...? 

There's another loooooong stretch of silence. And then, Darcy and Jane both turn slowly to look at you pressed against the door.

You swallow.

Your face is set in horror.

"It's not what it looks like—"

"Uh, dude, it totally is what it looks like—" Darcy starts, stepping closer to the board and pointing a black, manicured finger at a paparazzi photo of Loki being carted off from the now-Avengers Tower, "What's with all the Loki paraphernalia?! Need I post a lil' throwback Thursday to when he tried to kill us all?"

IT'S THURSDAY AGAIN.

You wince. "You wouldn't understand—"

Then, it happens.

The same thing you've experienced dozens upon dozens of times these last six months happens again: A rush of chatter in your mind, a cacophony of whispers that claw at your thoughts and flood them with has-beens and will-be's. A million things all at once, a little bit of everything from all of time, and then— one thread. One thread that stands out against them all. 

"Jane, don't."

Across the room, Jane's fingers pause on the contact number for that pretty S.H.I.E.L.D. agent they've met once or twice now — the one who is managing the Asgardian anomaly cases. With Loki missing, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been desperate to track him down. If this is a lead... If you know where he is...

Jane's face freezes.

Her brows knit.

Your face is split in panic. "I know you think calling Agent Hill is the right thing to do, but—"

"...How did you know I was...?" Jane's voice falls off, her eyes searching your face.

Your voice splinters as you step forward. "If you call Agent Hill, she is going to section our entire division within the week. Thor will be exiled from Earth on conspiracy four days later. We will sit in a cell for five years until they decide we have nothing to do with Loki's disappearance from Asgard."

Darcy's eyes bounce between you and Jane.

"Why are you saying all that like you know it's going to happen?" Jane asks slowly, putting her phone down and closing the gap between you. "Doc, what's going on?"

Your eyes flicker with fear. 

And then exhaustion. The walls you've built to keep this away from the others crumble with one worried look from Darcy, and you crumple against the kitchen counter. 

Your voice is far away.

"It all started that Thursday."

You thought it would be better now that someone knows. 

Truth be told it might be more trouble than it's worth if not to soothe the burden of secrecy — because Darcy keeps treating you like a Magic 8 Ball that, when shaken, is going to spit out readings on the future. 

It isn't that easy. I mean, if it was, you would have definitely done everything in your power to avoid the commute traffic this morning. 

You don't know why it happens. Or how. You have a theory it has something to do with Alioth, but... without any sort of control, there's no way of knowing. All you know is that in those moments, you're presented with a weave of potential sequences. And in those moments, you can choose to act. Or not. 

So far, acting seems to be the best course of action. 

But, yea, no. No fortune-cookie-level stuff. No crystal ball, no tarot cards. Just... weird time-whispers. And a migraine that seems to never go away. And dreams. Really vivid dreams. Dreams that happen? And dreams that don't.

If it was a horoscope sort of thing, maybe you wouldn't have missed your morning bus after waiting in line at that coffee shop three blocks down. They always make your coffee a little too bitter, but the girl behind the counter is an NYU grad student you recognized from a mechanical engineering lecture you sat in on three months ago. You've got a soft spot for her. She's always nice to that guy in the baseball cap who seems unhoused. 

You hope it all works out for her in the end. 

But, Christ this coffee is bitter. 

You buzz into Stark Labs at 9:37 am, and you're setting your stuff down at R&D by 9:43 am. 

Bruce Banner looks up briefly from his work to slide you a welcoming smile. You return it gently as you settle down on your stool and reacclimate yourself to last week's work. 

Mondays, man.

Tony is, as always, later than anyone else. His entrance is followed by the usual boisterous chatter meant as a morale booster. More often than not it's a genius-level comedy routine built on absolutely torturing Dr. Banner. You opt, more often than not, to refuse to enable the bad behavior. 

Any laughter is buried deep into these readings from the Tesseract. 

And so this has been home for the last four months. 

Avengers Tower. R&D. Erik Selvig's Research Team. Theoretical Physics and Quantum Mechanics. Day in, day out.

No TVA, no TemPads, no Sylvie, no Mobius, no Capybaras. 

...No Loki.

But, plenty of whispers. 

It rocks you out of your focus, iced latte halfway to your lips as you're rooted in this little pocket of voices and threads and whisps of time. There's a thousand, then a hundred, then one. 

Your voice is soft.

"Bruce, try the equation again."

From across the room, Tony's voice dies down and Bruce's eyes rise to meet yours. He points to himself, with a questioning raise of the brows.

You nod, then continue to take a sip of your coffee.

And so Bruce does. Wordlessly. And, after a minute, he looks up with a grin.

"So it was right."

"Woulda never known if Iron Dick over here didn't shut up for one second."

Tony's grin is bigger than Bruce's as he meanders over to your lab table and throws an arm around your shoulder. He squeezes you gently. You avoid his eye contact — and in doing so, you miss the momentary grace of concern. 

(Tony has known you for a few months now. He knows you adequately enough to gauge that your triple-shot espresso should have been a sextuple. The bags beneath your eyes are dark. There's an edge there. Something jumpy. You're exhausted.)

"Now, that was mean."

"You're torturing him," you fire back lightly, non-the-wiser to his scrutiny. 

"It's called exposure therapy—" Tony croons, leaning back and thumbing through some of the notes on your desk. You allow it. 

Good. Still sharp. Still better than anyone else at what you do. 

"Exposure to workplace terrorism?" You rib back with one cocked brow, "No offense, Bruce, but I like you better not green. Okay, Tony?"

"None taken!" Dr. Banner calls lightly from across the room. He's working on the second part of that equation now. 

"Sure, sure, alright, Doc," Tony heads your words, raising both hands and stepping back, "I guess someone hates fun."

"Absolutely," you say blankly, chewing your straw; you point at him, "No laughter."

"None," Tony waggles a finger.

"Not a peep," you remark causally as you spin in your stool and snag your pen from the drawer behind you. 

"Any news on the other green guy we hate?" Bruce asks slowly, eyes bouncing between you and Stark. 

Your blood goes a little cold. Just like always. It's hard not to react — especially when that other green guy is all you think about day and night.

WHEN YOU LOSE HIM YOU WILL DO ANYTHING TO GET HIM BACK. 

You wordlessly shake your head. You shrug. Bruce turns to Stark. Tony is hunched over his bench. His words are a bit muffled by the soldering project he's turned his attention to. 

"None. According to Thor he just up and poofed. He was in the middle of atoning before the Buckingham of Asgard and... just warped on out."

So you've heard.

"Hill has been working every lead she can but... the Asgardians are a little touchy-feely on the whole 'earthlings in the domain of the Gods' thing."

"Understandable," you mutter absently.

Tony sits up. "Only time will tell."

...Indeed.

Home.

Unit 1131. 

Lonely.

It wasn't before all this... It was full to the brim with contentment. It was comfort, it was bliss. It was indulgent mornings slept beneath the covers and bright music in the kitchen. Cheap wine from the liquor shop on the corner and homemade meals. It was "I finally made it". 

Now, it's none of that.

Because he's out there — and you know that you don't belong here anymore.

You drop your bag by the door. 

Your boots follow in a trail. 

Sigurd mews expectantly, and you scoop him wordlessly into your arms as you weave through the chaos of papers and books. Your carpet is hidden beneath a layer of obsession masquerading as research.

But, there's one thing that pulls you back in each time.

It's that photo. 

The one Darcy had pointed at earlier.

Loki is being carted off from the now-Avengers Tower. He's looking back at something, and his expression is broken.

It's you.

You know he's pleading with Thor at that moment through a muzzle, desperate to call your name. He's looking at you, being whisked away by S.H.I.E.L.D. as they clear the area, and your voice is silenced by grief. 

You wish you had called out to him then — told him you'd find him again. 

Regret is a hell of a thing.

Grief, too. 

How do you mourn something you never really had? Not here, not in this timeline. 

So you stand there, in the dim lights of your apartment, staring at the photo. And you cry. Just like every night, for the last six months.

In your desk, that magical little daisy made of grass waits.

If they find Sylvie, they find you.

That's the mission.

Mobius M. Mobius thinks it's funny — back then, man if only he would have known that lil' hunch of his was right. Maybe a part of him did. And... Now? Things are different. I mean, everything is different. The TVA is different. 

Loki is different.

They say to be loved is to be changed an' all that. 

The first thing out of Loki's mouth was your name when Mobius finally saw him again — and then a word vomit of panic, induced by the death of He Who Remains and... time-slippage as OB called it. Lotsa moving parts. Lots to keep track of. But, ultimately, they're in a better spot than they were yesterday. 

1.) Loki is no longer falling through the metaphorical cracks in time. 

2.) Mobius did not get toasted alive when standing before The Loom.

3.) He never, ever, ever has to do that again.

And now!

They're in London. 

1977, huh. Zaniac. 

If they find Sylvie, they find you.

...Unless you find him first.

Loki isn't exactly thrilled. 

No, Loki knows better than to get his hopes up. Sylvie isn't here. He already told Mobius that. It's too safe. It's a damned movie premiere. There are no radiation burns, no falling stars, and no rampant gunfire. It's too quiet. 

It's a movie premiere and you're out there, somewhere, alone. You're... you're lost. He can't protect you here. He can't protect anything. You... You're all he has and you're gone. 

And he's here, wasting his damn time. 

Brad Wolfe is about to waste more of his time. 

Loki's gaze is sharp. His strides are long, and as they approach the fray, the God stands amongst the tallest of guests. He cuts a mean profile. It's times like these that Mobius remembers he is a God.

(It's times like these that Mobius can also see the ever-increasing edge in his partner-in-time. It's a little... worrisome. But understandable. I mean, rip a God's soulmate from his hands and see what happens, right?)

"So, he's an actor now?" Loki comments off-handedly, his irritation grating his heartstrings in a way that reminds him of who he was before all this. He hates it. But, he's angry. He will get you back. Without you...

Without you, he doesn't know what he'll do.

"Or he's undercover."

As they weave, Loki's brows knot in distrust. "Looks pretty real to me."

It smells like cigarettes and perfume, and the flashbulbs bite sharply into Loki's peripherals. The raven-haired trickster winces, tucking his hands into his slacks. 

On the red carpet, X-5 moves from interview to interview. Occasionally his laughter rises above the clamor. Each time, Loki's nostrils flare and he rolls his eyes. 

It's when he reaches the end of the line that Mobius moves in. 

"Will there be a Zaniac Two?" 

The look on Brad's face says enough for Mobius to know there's more going on here than just an undercover bit. Brad's laugh, as equally pained as his smile, just cements the fact. 

"Mobius! Woah!" A clap on the shoulder, a big hug. "I used to work with this guy!"

Still a show. Still a weasel trying to survive on his little slice of time. 

"We're going to need to catch up," he begins, backing up slowly, "You know, why don't we chat after the show?"

"How about now, maybe?" Mobius counters just as Brad turns on his heel and comes face to face with Loki. 

The God sneers.

"Woah. Okay, ha, whole gangs here!" he chirps, "Isn't that... great? Wow. I mean, you look — you look great, Loki."

"Why thank you, Brad."

Brad's eyes are manic, and he's searching the crowd quickly — no doubt looking for an exit. Then, they catch something. When Brad claps his hands together and pats them on both Loki and Mobius' shoulders, the two TVA agents pause.

"Everything alright?" Loki asks, head tilting in faux concern.

"Everything is great, actually, because when I was here," he begins, words quick and anxious as he tries to weave some sort of story, "I met a mutual friend!"

"Sylvie?" Mobius asks tightly.

"No, no, uh, better—"

Loki's jaw tightens. Enough of this. "We have some mutual friends back at the TVA who would like a word, as well—"

"Doc!" calls Brad after finally finding her in the sea of people, turning on his heel and calling out over his shoulder, "I got people I need you to meet!"

And just like that, it's like Loki's whole world splits wide open again.

In the fray of photographers and journalists, in the fray of drinks and the haze of smoke, there's you. You're smiling at Brad, positively beaming. You're bright as a star and Gods, there's no one in the room when you step forward with a laugh.

Your dress is green. Your hair is different.

There's a beauty mark on your left cheek. His version of you has a scar that lies there. A mistimed gift from Sylvie before their period on Lamentis. 

"Doc, these are some of my friends from work," Brad points, his hand falling along your waist in a way that makes Loki's blood boil; the ex-TVA Hunter leans close to your cheek, "They're the real deal."

You laugh into your drink, then extend your hand to Mobius. He's trying his best to hide his growing dread. "It's a pleasure."

Mobius takes it and shakes it gently. "And how do you have the pleasure of knowing our starlet, Brad?"

Damn it. He's losing Loki in real time here.

"Doc here did all the practical effects on set for Zaniac," Brad's eyes connect with Loki's — but the God is focused on only you... Her. Until Wolfe digs in with a low murmur meant to do just what it does, "She's a real wiz with her hands."

The God's face snaps. He will kill Brad, he decides. But, then this other-you moves to offer her hand and he can't help but melt. 

His fingers are trembling when he touches her skin. 

"Have we met before?" comes the soft lilt of her voice — this Variant's eyes are brown. They search Loki's face for a shred of recognition but all that's there between the two of them is raw attraction. A law of time and space unhindered by meddling hands. No matter where, no matter when, you will find one another.

Loki's mouth is dry. Your lipstick shade is a dark rogue. He thinks about that kiss back in the Void. He's stuck there, with your hand in his, when Brad bolts.

Her face contorts in confusion. She pulls away. But, Loki lingers. 

He has to... He...

He needs you back. 

Now. 

[sunsburns]

kiss of life (iii.)

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!daughter reader

masterlist

summary: you have never doubted aphrodite when it comes to soulmates, she's the goddess of love, she knows what she's doing and you're getting pretty sick of people telling you she's made a mistake with your soulmate, specifically. you refuse to believe that she could be wrong, but luke castellan is making it really hard for you to have hope.

—or: you and luke are off on your quest you're totally not having second thoughts about choosing him, he's your soulmate after all... right?

word count: 3.2k

warnings: filler chapter (sorry gang), reader's pov, reader is lowkey unreliable and is hiding something, pre-tlt, luke's character is kinda inconsistent but whatever, angsty fight with luke and reader, low-key happy ending

a/n: everyone might've moved on but i'm still here 😔… gang i think i’m coming back to my active era (no one cheered) anyways there’s so much i wanna write for this series so enjoy this little filler!

You'd always been a fan of bad ideas, but choosing Luke Castellan as your companion for the duration of your quest had to be your worst one yet. You felt a pang of doubt, questioning your choice, especially after witnessing the outcome of his quest—a failure that seemed impossible to shake off from the whispers of other campers. A failure your siblings wouldn't let you forget.

"I was there when he came back. I know what happened," you muttered, frustration creeping into your voice as you stuffed clothes into your bag.

Your siblings meant the world to you. You cherished the bond you shared—the familial camaraderie that bound your cabin together. As the eldest, you revelled in guiding and nurturing them, relishing the role of guardian and friend within your cabin's close-knit circle. Yet, like any family, they can sometimes be suffocatingly overbearing.

Alexis, your brother, ever ready to smack a reality check, had been the first to warn you against choosing Luke Castellan, and now he spearheaded a group of your siblings, all urging you to reconsider with reason.

"But that's just it. You don't know. Not really. None of us do." Alexis told you, reclining against the shared vanity in your cabin. The absence of the younger kids, off with Chiron for a lesson on constellations, offered you some peace of mind, sparing them from witnessing the escalating intervention.

As Silena sifted through the clothes strewn across your bed, her soft humming filled the room, a stark contrast to the weighty silence that hung over the conversation. "No one but Chiron and Mr. D knows what happened on that quest. He refuses to talk about it." she mused.

"There's not a lot of glory in that." Alexis shrugged, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"He's been so weird and different since he returned," Silena added, "I remember he used to smile. It was such an attractive smile. And he used to talk... He barely ever talks anymore."

Alexis snorted, "That's called depression, Silena."

"It's just so sad." She frowned and sat on your bed, her gaze distant, "Pretty people don't deserve to be depressed."

"Amen to that."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at their melodramatic exchange, a fleeting smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you focused on folding another pair of pants. 

"He still talks." You said.

"But it's not the same," Alexis countered, his expression grave. Deep down, you knew he was right.

"And the way he's treated you," Silena scoffed, "constantly icing you out..."

"Avoiding you for months..." Alexis added, stepping closer to you with a solemn expression. "Refusing to even talk to you."

When he tried to put his hand on your shoulder, you couldn't help but shrug it off, not wanting his sympathy.

Their reminders, well-intentioned though they may be, served only to deepen the wound already festering within you. Like a knife twisted in your back, the memories of Luke's avoidance and unanswered questions pierced your thoughts with relentless precision. You vividly recalled the disappointment etched across his face in the infirmary, a silent testament to his dismay upon discovering your role in his fate. The weight of his unspoken words hung heavily in the air, a haunting reminder of the rift that had formed between you before it even started.

Your siblings were very careful with their next words: "Do you think that maybe... just this once... Aphrodite got it wrong?"

With a heavy heart, you stormed out of the cabin, your mind reeling with conflicting emotions. You swore up and down to Alexis and Silena that you were fine, that you only needed air. The need for clarity drove you to seek solace in the quiet embrace of nature, the gentle flicker of a breeze offering a touch of comfort amidst the turmoil raging within.

Throughout your life, your unwavering loyalty to your mother, Aphrodite, and the Gods has been a source of solace and guidance. You found comfort in the subtle manifestations of them, from the celestial dance of stars to the gentle caress of sunlight filtering through the trees. Even in the casual interactions of everyday life, you sought traces of your mother's hand guiding your path.

As you gazed into the dancing flames, the remnants of fruit smouldering in their fiery embrace in a tin can, you found yourself caught between hope and despair during your offering for your mother. Silena's words echoed in your mind, a harsh truth you were reluctant to confront. Maybe you didn't have a soulmate. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe you're unlovable.

Yet, amidst the cloud of doubt, a flicker of defiance ignited within you. The mere thought that Aphrodite could be mistaken in matters of love seemed impossible to you. You had witnessed firsthand the intricate tapestry of fate woven by her hand, guiding souls to their destined counterparts with unfailing precision. 

The yearning for that connection, that soul-deep bond, burned within you like a beacon in the darkness of uncertainty. It was a desire as old as time itself, the longing to find solace and belonging in the embrace of another.

As the flames dwindled to embers, their dying glow casting flickering shadows upon the ground, your prayers went unanswered. 

The weight of your impending quest pressed upon you like a heavy cloak. Questions tumbled over one another in a relentless cascade, each one a dagger aimed at the heart of your resolve. Where would you need to go? Would you need to defend yourself? Would monsters come after you? Should you choose someone else? Could it be that Luke was nothing to you but a mistaken thread tethered into your life?

Your shoes stepped over twigs and dry leaves on the ground until you stepped out of the forest. Passing by the armoury, you forced a smile upon your lips. You forced yourself to be excited for your first quest rather than dread it. It was a rare privilege bestowed upon a child of Aphrodite, you should honour it.

As you approached the heart of camp again, the familiar clang of sword meeting dummy rumbled through the night air. The rhythmic sound, though commonplace in the realm of demigod training, carried an ominous weight under the cover of darkness. You would have assumed that all campers were asleep.

Luke Castellan, a boy who had become synonymous with the darker days since his return from his quest, stood amidst the training grounds, his silhouette illuminated by the pale moonlight. The sight of him, bathed in the ghostly shine, was haunting. With each precise strike of his sword, a muted testament to the rage that plagued his restless spirit, he seemed to exude an aura of both determination and despair.

No wonder you were so exhausted.  

You dared not meet his gaze, instead keeping your head bowed as you navigated the familiar path through the training grounds. Every fibre of your being screamed for you to move faster, yet the pull of his presence was undeniable. Despite your best efforts to remain unseen, Luke's voice cut through the night, calling out your name with a sense of urgency that sent a shiver down your spine.

Shit.

With a sinking heart, you felt his hand land on your shoulder, stopping your escape. You couldn't avoid him now. Turning to face him, you were met with a sight that mirrored the restlessness within your own soul. His features, etched with lines of weariness and frustration, betrayed the weight of the burdens he carried.

You were distracted by the way he was looking at you. Brows furrowed, his lips turned and pulled into that permanent frown that had you wondering if he had ever smiled since he came back. Yet, despite the weight of his solemn expression, there was a flicker of something in his eyes – a glint of warmth, of familiarity, that almost stirred a faint glimmer of hope within you.

Almost. 

"You're making a mistake." He insisted. "You need to choose someone else for your quest."

You tried not to seem too disappointed. "I can't pick anyone else." You protested, and he raised his brows at you, doubtful. "The Oracle told me to choose you."

"She told you to-?" A scoff escaped him, "The Oracle doesn't tell you who to choose. She doesn't say anything about who you should bring-"

"Luke-"

"The Oracle tells you what your quest is, then a weird riddle about something that will happen on your quest that will put you on edge the entire time."

Luke had stepped closer to you as he spoke as if his words would've sunk into your head clearer if you could hear them better. He spoke to you a lot that way, hoping you'd cling to every word he had to say; good and bad. Mostly bad.

The Oracle's cryptic words lingered in your mind. She had not revealed much about your quest, offering no subtle hints or insights into Eros' whereabouts to make your life easier. Instead, her assurance that success hinged on bringing Luke Castellan along had left you grappling with uncertainty. "He has all the answers you seek," she had urged, her words echoing with a weight that you struggled to comprehend.

"It has to be you."

"What else did she say?"

You hesitated. "That's it," you replied, your words falling short.

"That's it?" He didn't believe you.

"Just a few hints of where Eros might be, I guess." The lie slipped from your lips effortlessly. 

He caught it quickly but never urged you to admit it. Luke remained silent, his expression unreadable as he mulled over your words. 

You sort of wished he fought you over it.

You wished he'd do anything with you. At least try to.

"If you don't want to come with me, that's fine," you conceded, "I'm leaving tomorrow morning, with or without you."

"Really? You'll just leave?"

The bitterness in his tone was unmistakable. Yet, despite the resentment that coloured his words, there was a flicker of something in his eyes – a glimmer of regret, perhaps, or maybe resignation. It only annoyed you further.

Luke Castellan was possibly the most confusing person you've ever met. He didn't want to join you on your quest, but you couldn't leave without him either? What's his fucking deal?

He intrigued and frustrated you, like some curse had been placed upon you, and you wanted to understand every part of him while he wanted nothing to do with you. Perhaps Aphrodite was being cruel when she chose him as your soulmate, but you weren't any better when you put him in the position of joining you on your quest.

"I don't know you." You admitted the words hanging heavy in the air between you. "You've made a really good effort to make sure that I don't know anything about you. I did my part. I picked you. If you don't want to come, that's... fine."

It pained you to say it. You did not want to go alone, but you weren't going to force someone to accompany you who clearly didn't want to be there. However, the uncertainty of what lay beyond the safety of the camp walls loomed large in your mind. You haven't left the protection of the camp in years, you weren't sure of what was out there other than the stories the summer campers would tell you, of their close calls and near misses. 

Luke Castellan was the perfect example of what leaving camp does to someone.

Despite the weight of your decision, you held your head high as you turned on your heels. You doubted Luke had anything more to say; he was a man of few words, after all.

You left him there, just as he left you by the docks for months. And then you lied to yourself, clung to the belief that your mother, Aphrodite, would safeguard your journey and that your brother, Eros, awaited your rescue.

And so, the next morning, after bidding your tearful goodbyes to your siblings and friends and earning a proud pat on the back from Chiron, you swallowed your pride and left.

The Oracle's words were etched into the very fabric of your being, a relentless mantra that monopolized your thoughts as you trudged toward the top of the hill and left the safety of campgrounds. Each step forward was a testament to your determination, each footfall a declaration of your unwavering commitment to the quest ahead.

As you climbed, you couldn't help but imagine the faces of campers upon your return. You pictured the awe in their eyes, the pride in their voices, and most of all, the look on Luke's face when he realized the extent of your lone success, his disbelief mingling with a begrudging respect.

"Hey-"

The sound of your name startled you out of your thoughts. You were trudging through the grass when you spotted a body sitting under a pine tree, shaded from the sun by its leaves.

Luke looked up at you, frowning, "Took you long enough."

His dishevelled dark curls fell over his eyes, a stark contrast against the vibrant greenery surrounding him. With a resigned sigh, he rose to his feet, his movements fluid yet tinged with an air of impatience Luke picked up a bag by his side, tossing it over his shoulder. It wasn't until he emerged from the tree's shade that you noticed the subtle changes in his attire. Gone was the signature orange camp shirt, replaced instead by a more subdued navy tee that hugged his frame. His old cargo pants remained the same, but different nonetheless.

Eyeing his bag, you could spot smaller daggers strapped to the sides, prepared for anything. It took you a few seconds to process why he was there. You squint at the sun as he steps out from under the tree. "You came."

He huffed, "Obviously."

You let out a breathless chuckle, maybe one of relief since honestly, despite everything you'd been trying to convince yourself of, you were terrified to leave on your own. 

"Why?" you asked, your voice betraying a hint of uncertainty as you adjusted the straps of your own bag. The question hung in the air, unanswered. Of course. You almost rolled your eyes as Luke began to descend the other side of the hill. With a fleeting glance over his shoulder, he wordlessly beckoned you to join him by tilting his head to the side impatiently.

You grinned then, wide and bright. "I know I said I didn't care if you came or not, but I'm glad you're here."

He showed no sign of acknowledgment of your sentiment, his gaze fixed ahead as he continued to walk once you joined his side.

As the minutes stretched on in silence, broken only by the rhythmic crunch of leaves underfoot, you found yourself lost in thought. It was only when the distant hum of passing cars reached your ears, their blurred forms darting through the forest's fringe, that you were jolted back to the present.

Drawing to a halt near the forest's edge, you felt the weight of uncertainty settle upon you. With a hesitant pause, you turned to face Luke, the question that had been gnawing at your mind poised on the tip of your tongue.

"Why'd you stop?" He asked.

"I just..." Your voice wavered, uncertainty lacing your words as you struggled to articulate your thoughts. You worried that if you said the wrong thing he'd leave you stranded right there and return to camp while the two of you were still walking distance from it. It annoyed you a little; how much you had to walk on eggshells with him.

You couldn't help but wonder how different things might have been if you hadn't chosen him. You were being stupid when you picked him, you decided. You already regret it. Maybe Luke was right, the Oracle was just trying to get into your head.

"What made you change your mind? About coming on the quest?" you finally managed to voice, your eyes meeting his in search of answers.

He looked at you, brown eyes flitting over your expression, before licking his lips and simply stating: "If you break an arm, so do I."

That had been the closest Luke Castellan had ever been to admitting he had a soulmate.

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[wifeyoozi]

Maybe we are soulmates

The idea of soulmates always felt a bit too fantastical for you, but right now, it didn’t seem so far-fetched. The way Jihoon had known exactly what you needed, without you even having to ask, made you feel a connection that went beyond words. (fluff // comfort ,, mentions of being soulmates but not a soulmate au)

The sound of your keys jingling as you unlocked the door was the only noise you could focus on as you trudged inside your apartment, your body heavy with exhaustion. The day had been relentless, and though you normally found solace in coming home and taking care of the house, tonight was different. The mere thought of scrubbing dishes or cooking dinner felt like an insurmountable task.

You paused just inside the door, taking a deep breath. Normally, the thought of seeing Jihoon’s relaxed face when he came home made all your efforts worth it. But tonight, your feet ached, your head pounded, and all you wanted was to collapse into bed.

Yet, as you stepped into the living room, you were greeted with a surprising sight. The house was immaculate, the usual clutter nowhere to be seen. The floor was spotless, and the cushions on the couch were perfectly arranged. You took a few more steps, and that’s when the scent hit you—your favorite dish, its aroma wafting through the air, pulling you toward the kitchen.

Your heart skipped a beat. There was no way Jihoon could’ve known how drained you felt before you even walked through the door. He was always the last to come home, often later than you, yet here he was, clearly having done all of this.

“Jihoon?” you called out, your voice tinged with confusion and a hint of awe.

Jihoon appeared from the kitchen, a warm smile lighting up his face. His apron was still tied around his waist, and he had a towel draped over his shoulder, as if he’d just finished cleaning up. “Hey,” he greeted you cheerfully, “You’re home earlier than I thought.”

You blinked at him, still processing what you were seeing. “How… how did you…?”

He chuckled at your confusion and walked over to you, taking your bag and setting it down by the door. “I got off work early today,” he explained casually, “So I thought I’d get everything done before you got home. I figured it’d be nice to have more time together tonight.”

His words warmed you from the inside out, but you still felt a lingering surprise. “But how did you know I had a rough day? I didn’t even message you about it.”

Jihoon’s eyes softened as he looked at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “I didn’t know,” he admitted, “But I just thought it might be nice to switch things up. And, well… maybe I had a feeling.”

You stared at him for a moment, the exhaustion in your body suddenly feeling a little lighter. “A feeling?”

He shrugged, almost sheepishly. “I don’t know… maybe we’re just in sync like that.”

A laugh escaped you, and you shook your head, leaning into him. “You’re making us sound like soulmates.”

Jihoon wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Maybe we are,” he murmured into your hair, his voice low and comforting.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself relax into his embrace. The idea of soulmates always felt a bit too fantastical for you, but right now, it didn’t seem so far-fetched. The way Jihoon had known exactly what you needed, without you even having to ask, made you feel a connection that went beyond words.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. “But I’m really, really glad you did.”

Jihoon gently tilted your head up, looking into your eyes. “I wanted to,” he said simply. “You take care of me all the time, and I know how hard you work. It’s only fair that I do the same for you when I can.”

Your heart swelled with love for him, and you couldn’t help but smile, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you,” you said softly.

Jihoon leaned in and kissed you, slow and tender, as if he was pouring all his feelings into that one moment. When he pulled back, he was smiling again. “Now, come on, dinner’s ready. You just sit back and relax tonight, okay?”

You nodded, feeling a warmth settle in your chest that had nothing to do with the food waiting for you. As Jihoon led you to the table, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, you were soulmates after all.

Even if it was a little too good to be true, you liked believing it—because Jihoon was your person, the one who understood you in ways no one else did, even when you didn’t have to say a word. And tonight, that was enough.

[chocochipsushi]

SFW

🌸Word count: 7.5K words

🌸AU: Soulmates are bound by an invisible red thread tied around their pinkies. Only within close proximity with your soulmate for the first time does the red string become visible to the both of you. And cutting the thread would mean losing them as a soulmate, completely, and forever.

🌸Pairing: Mismatched Toji x reader couple (soooo fucking cute), age gap, SatoSugu

🌸A/N: I couldn't get over Soulmate!Toji so I wrote a prequel.....

Part 1, Part 2 >>

You were always so excited and curious to meet your soulmate. Since you were a kid, you’d fantasise ways you might meet your other half. You just never anticipated that your soulmate would be a man almost two times bigger than you. 

You remember the day you first saw him. You were staring up at him, sizing him up when you realised that your head only came up to his chest. His big muscles could probably crush you if he so much as touched you, you bet. And he looked at least a decade older than you. You’d always wondered how your soulmate would look like, but you had never imagined someone like him. 

“Um… Hi,” you squeaked softly. 

He didn't say anything as he continued staring at you. You swallowed and held up your pinky finger where a red thread was tied around. The other end was connected to his own pinky finger. 

You wondered what to say, and you nervously decided on, “Fancy seeing you here…?” 

You almost wanted to smack yourself. 

The man before you didn’t say anything and you briefly wondered if he might be mute. His facial expression never changed either, so you had no idea what he was thinking. Maybe he thought he had gotten the short end of the stick with you. 

He glanced behind you and noticed your friends watching the both of you animatedly, excited that you were the first of them to find your soulmate. The man returned his gaze back to you. He cleared his throat, then he spoke for the first time since you first noticed the searing hot sting on your last finger. 

“I’ll get your number and we’ll meet another day,” he mumbled. His voice was low and rough, kinda hot for an older man if you had to be honest. 

You blinked at his straightforwardness and his quick decision-making skills, both of which you lacked. You only got to be in shock for a few seconds before he held his phone out to you. You took it from him slowly, still in a daze from this whole situation. You keyed in your number and saved your name before handing it back to him. The man pocketed his phone and nodded at you. 

“I’ll call you.” You bobbed your head but you stayed staring at him. You saw a little frown between his brows. “Go back to your friends.”

“Oh, r-right!” you fumbled, taken aback and anxious from being chased away. “Well, um… okay,” you told him as you nodded your head, unsure of how exactly to say goodbye to your newly found soulmate. You took a small step back and gave him a little wave. “I’ll wait for your call…” You frowned here, totally forgetting if he had introduced himself. 

“Toji Fushiguro.”

“Bye bye, Toji.”

The second time you guys met was just as awkward. 

You were sitting there, blinking dumbly at the huge man opposite you. Toji stared back at you, his fingers playing with the condensation of his glass of whiskey. It had been five minutes since you were sat at the table, and it had also been silent between the both of you for just as long. You were gradually getting uncomfortable. You wondered how he could sit there without saying a word, the entire time just staring at you. You already felt like exploding with anxiety. 

You cleared your throat, just aching to break the silence though it looked like he could go on forever just watching you. “So, um… what do you do for work, Toji?” you asked nervously. 

He finally blinked as he replied mysteriously, “Better for you not to find out.” You gaped at his secrecy but he ignored the look of disbelief you were wearing on your face. Before he took a sip of his drink, he asked, “And you?”

“If I tell you, will you tell me what you do?” you haggled. 

Toji’s eyebrow quirked upward for a split second, making you wonder if you imagined it. “No. I’d rather you not know.”

“But I wanna know,” you pleaded softly. He simply kept staring at you, not saying anything. You pouted a little. Giving up, you sighed and finally told him, “I’m a PA for a director of a company.”

“You like your job?” 

It’s not a weird question to ask, but you still couldn’t help but feel touched by his solicitude. Your heart thumped in your chest as you joked, “I’d like it even more if I was a housewife.”

Almost at once, Toji nodded and responded, “Quit your job. You can stay home or even go shopping everyday if you want to. I can provide for both of us.”

You pulled a frown and leaned forward a little. You lowered your voice and questioned seriously, “What do you really do?”

He scratched his temple. “If you really have to know…” He stared at you and you immediately nodded your head. He sighed as he ran his hand down the lower half of his face, bringing your attention to his scar by his lips for a second. “I get paid by people who don’t want to get their hands dirty.”

“So you do the dirty work?” Toji’s face scrunched up into a cringe as he nodded his head. You were unknowingly whispering now as you wondered, “Like what?”

“Don’t ask.” 

“Bad stuff?”

There was a beat of silence, like he was contemplating whether or not to answer, before he mumbled solemnly, looking away, “Bad stuff.”

You continued gaping at him, your heart thumping in your chest. So your soulmate was a bad guy. 

But what could you do about it? Hand him over to the police? Like hell you would. Besides, you’re kind of intrigued. You wanted to know just what kind of things he did. So you opened your mouth to ask more questions. But you took in the scar on his lips, the stormy look in his eyes, and the stony expression that he wears. You decided that you didn’t really want to know that badly, so you huffed and leaned back in your seat. 

You wondered if you imagined the slight quirk of his lips and the twinkle in his eyes because the moment you blinked, his face was a blank sheet again. You cleared your throat. 

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-eight.”

Your lips clamped together and your eyes widened in surprise. Toji noticed your expression, so he quirked an eyebrow. 

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-five,” you squeaked. 

Your soulmate was 13 years older than you. He had lived 13 years ahead of you, without you. Holy shit, that was a long time. 

You’re still trying to wrap your head around the age gap between you and your soulmate when the waitress came to set your cocktail in front of you. Toji glanced up at her and gave her a tick of his eyebrow as a wordless thanks. You darted your eyes to the waitress at once, knowing what that small action would do to girls. 

True enough, you saw the lady pursing her lips as she fought off a shy smile, her eyes already turning googly as she continued staring at Toji. You returned your gaze to the man before you, only to see him staring at you. 

His deepset gaze unnerved you. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking whereas your friends had always told you that you were an open book for everyone to read. You remember worrying to yourself at that time if you would ever be able to live with a man whose emotions you couldn’t even read. It felt impossible then. 

When the waitress left, you shifted in your seat as you asked him quietly, “Are you happy you found your soulmate?”

He swirled the liquid in his glass. Your stomach dropped when he didn’t answer right away. What he did instead, was take a sip of his whiskey. Your anxiety level was rising with every second he took to savour the alcohol in his mouth. You felt like you might vomit just as he swallowed and hummed, nodding his head. He looked just as solemn as ever. 

In that moment, you thought with all your heart that Toji definitely hated you. 

The time your worries and discomfort started to settle was the third time you interacted with your soulmate. 

Your phone had rung in the middle of the day. You remember your heart jumping in your chest when you read the name Toji Fushiguro on the screen. Swallowing and clearing your throat, you picked up your phone and slid your finger across the screen to answer it. 

“Hello?”

“Are you free tonight?”

Your heart leapt to your throat. Was he asking you out? “Yes,” you answered breathlessly. 

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Okay. Where are we going?” 

To be fair, it had been a week since you last met him and there had been minimal contact between the both of you. You never texted, and the only time you did was when you reported that you’d reached home safely the last time you saw him. You just didn’t know what to talk to him about and you didn’t want to seem like a clingy little girlfriend by asking him out again (even though you’d only met twice so far, including the first time you bumped into each other).

“A friend’s birthday dinner.”

Your blood froze cold. “I-I’m going to meet your friends tonight?” He hummed. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?!” you nearly screamed. 

You would have been embarrassed at losing your composure so unglamourously if not for how nervous you were, thinking about meeting your soulmate’s friends for the first time. You hadn’t even impressed Toji yet and now you had to impress his friends? You didn’t even know him well enough, much less the kind of friends he hung out with! How would you make them like you, when your soulmate hated you?!

Toji grunted on the other line. “I forgot.”

“You forgot your friend’s birthday?”

Ignoring you completely, Toji reminded you, “I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear a dress.” 

“Toji—”

You heard a loud noise in the background before he mumbled quickly, “Gotta go. See you tonight.”

And just like that, he ended the call. So you’re left brooding and anxiously fretting over tonight’s dinner. You couldn’t even focus on work because you’re stressing over what to wear that night and how to behave. It was the longest you ever took to get ready for anything to feel even just a morsel of satisfaction with how you look. 

By the time Toji got you from your place, you’re all but a bundle of nerves dressed in a cute dress and done up all pretty. The moment he set his piercing eyes on you, all he did was stare as he took you in from head to toe. But he said no word of praise as he made a comment about your apartment building. 

“The security here is shit.”

For some reason, the anxiety in you settled. You weren’t sure why, and what that was. But you felt calmer. Perhaps if he had commented on your looks, you would have felt even more nervous. You’re glad he didn’t say anything about your appearance. 

You turned off the lights and locked the door as you said, “Well, the rent is cheap. Can’t complain.”

Toji grunted. “You could move in with me,” he grumbled quietly, almost like he didn’t want you to hear. 

The both of you walked to the lift. “And your place is much safer than mine?” you mocked in a tease. 

Toji turned to give you a look. “Yes,” was all he said for you to realise that he was serious about 1) the security of his apartment, and 2) asking you to move in with him. 

Blushing, you looked away. The both of you took the elevator down in silence and jumped into a cab to get to the dinner location. It was so quiet for the first few minutes of the car ride that you couldn’t help but to start a conversation. You began to ask him about his friends, only to realise that maybe it was better for you to meet them in person than to listen to Toji’s short and brief responses. He must really hate talking. 

The silence during the rest of the car ride had you increasingly anxious. When you reached your destination, you were so nervous that you were fumbling and stumbling to get out of the cab. Toji stood next to you the entire time until you were no longer wobbling on your heels. You swallowed as you stared up at him. 

He was already watching you but now he quirked an eyebrow. “You alright?” 

You only allowed yourself to nod your head. Toji took a step closer and casually rested a hand on your back. Your heart smashed against your ribcage. This was the first time ever that he was touching you and you could just tell how different his touch made you feel. 

It just wasn’t the same as having someone else touching you. Hell, your crush of a few years kissing you on the cheek back in high school didn’t even compare to what you felt from a mere innocent touch on your back. 

You glanced up at Toji, suddenly seeing him in a new light as he walked through the glass doors of the restaurant. He was so much taller and bigger than you. And though his size had scared you at first, you were starting to find comfort and security in his build. Even his large, looming hand on your back made you feel calm. 

Toji, feeling your eyes on him, glanced down at you. “Yes?” 

Immediately, your face turned red. You shook your head and quickly looked away. You could feel his eyes still on you but you tried to ignore it by pretending you didn’t notice it. That was until you felt his hand lift off your back for just a second before it wrapped around your palm. Your eyes rounded in surprise and your heart started hammering against your chest. You darted your gaze up to him, hoping to get some sort of explanation as to why he did that. 

But you realised belatedly that you had arrived at the table of Toji’s friends when you heard a bunch of male voices calling out to your soulmate. You tore your eyes away from him and turned to the bunch of people sitting around a round table. They were grinning up at the both of you, almost slyly. 

“Oh, what have we got here?” The one with white hair whistled as he appraised you behind his black sunglasses. 

Toji reached into his pocket with his free hand and tossed him a black, oblong case. “Happy birthday, dickhead.”

The man caught it perfectly in front of him. As he opened up the case, he grinned naughtily up at Toji. “Didn’t know you had a thing for young girls, old man.”

At once, your face turned a violent shade of red. Some of his friends started snickering, which only made you feel so much more self-conscious. You felt a light squeeze on your hand before Toji let go, causing your heart to stutter. He placed a hand on your back and guided you to take a seat. The moment he sat down and pulled the menu booklet over to flip through it, he casually leaned over to grab the leg of your chair and slid you closer to him. 

You were gaping at him in disbelief just as the birthday boy said, “Oh, exactly what I needed!”

Distracted, you looked up to see him wearing a new pair of black sunglasses. He looked to everyone at the table with a wide grin, showing off his present. When he lifted the glasses to perch it on his head, he winked at you. You felt your entire face erupt in flames. He interlocked his fingers and extended them like a bridge as he rested his chin on them. 

“So, are you, like, his long lost daughter or something?”

You wondered if your face ever took a break from being red. Your eyes were round as you opened your mouth to say something, only to realise you didn’t know what to say. Lucky for you, Toji grunted and spoke up on your behalf. 

“Stop teasing her.” You turned to give him a grateful look. He was pouring himself some whiskey from the bottle in the middle of the table as he muttered, “She’s my soulmate.”

You could feel the entire room holding its breath, including the occupants. You didn’t even have to look to tell that you had all eyes on you. You could feel it. 

“What?” the white-haired man with the blue eyes breathed, still in shock. 

Toji turned to you, evaluating your uncomfortable expression. He turned back to his friend with a frown. “She’s my soulmate,” he reiterated, enunciating each syllable almost harshly. “Got a problem with that, Satoru?”

There was a beat of awkward silence before everyone started clapping. Satoru’s first reaction after breaking out of his stupor was to throw his head back and whine. 

“I can’t believe you’re taking the spotlight away from me! The birthday boy!”

Satoru sulked for the whole of the first course. It was only until he saw how shy and quiet you were, so out of place in Toji’s group of friends that he decided he would stop teasing the both of you. He was too far away to hold a conversation with you, but he had hoped that he would have the chance to get to know you better. 

Just before the last course of dessert came, Toji got up and asked, “I’m going for a smoke. You want to stay here or—“

“I want to come with you,” you quickly interjected, already pushing your chair back. 

Toji took the napkin off your lap before you stood up. He put his hand on your back again, guiding you towards the exit of the private room. A few of his friends followed behind you to join him for a smoke. You walked closer to him, your shoulder bumping his bicep. Toji glanced down at you at the same time you lifted your gaze to him. His dark green orbs flickered about your features and he finally addressed the anxiety written all over your face. 

Not with words. But by reaching up to your head for a little pat, so gentle that you showed surprise even as you cringed, expecting his touch to be heavy and rough. You felt your cheeks getting rosy again. 

Leaving the establishment to get to the smoking area, Toji got out first and held the door open for you, waiting until you were out before he let go of the glass door. You watched by his side as he lit his cigarette, the end of the tobacco stick illuminating in the darkness of the night. 

“You smoke?” he asked quietly, making this the first time he was initiating conversation. You shook your head and he nodded. “Don’t start,” he said as he took another puff. 

As his friends joined you, you frowned up at him. “Why do you smoke, then?”

“He’s a hypocrite, that’s why.” 

You turned your head to see the birthday boy rolling his eyes at you as he tutted at his friend. Changing topics, he grinned boyishly at you and held out his hand. 

“Satoru Gojo.”

You shook his hand and you saw his eyebrows shooting up for a split second, surprised by your strong grip. When he let go of your palm, the ends of his lips were slightly turned down, his bright blue eyes dancing as if in approval. He held up his palm to the side where a man with long hair tied up in a bun joined you with another lady with a bob haircut. The ravenette man pulled out a stick from his cigarette box and fit it in between Satoru’s fingers before taking one for himself. The woman is already puffing on her lighted cigarette.  

“So when did you find out?” 

The man with the long hair darted his eyes between the both of you but you looked up to Toji, who had been watching you the entire time. He took a breath of tobacco in and answered as he flicked the ash of his cigarette away. 

“A week ago. I was out getting supplies.”

You glanced at his friends to see that they were looking at you. “I was out shopping with my friends,” you murmured, lashes lowered shyly. 

“You’re so cute,” Satoru almost squealed, reaching his long limb out and closing his fist in front of your face like he was going to pinch your cheek. “You’re like the total opposite of this Grump,” he scoffed, stubbing his thumb out at Toji. 

“How does it feel? To have a soulmate?”

All of you turned to the only other woman there, who darted her gaze between all of you. You noticed Satoru and the guy in the man bun sharing a look. Unknowingly, your eyebrows furrowed slightly. As Toji turned his body to stub out his finished cigarette, his broad physique shielding you from his friends, he answered your unasked question. 

“They’re soulmates, the two of them,” he muttered softly, his voice low and almost ticklish in your ear. 

“Oh,” you squeaked softly. 

When Toji returned to his original position, you felt like you were seeing the two other males in a different light. 

“Hmm, contented?” The male with slitty, black eyes gave Satoru a look of unsureness. 

The blue-eyed man hummed. “Like you’re whole. You know?” He now turned to you and Toji like you would understand, maybe add on to their list. 

You blinked dumbly. Because, honestly, you still didn’t know how you felt about Toji being your soulmate. Sure, he was a good-looking, attractive man. But his personality was too cold and too quiet for your liking. You weren’t even sure if he liked you. You didn’t know how you could be his perfect match. 

“Hmm,” Toji grunted, pulling you out of your reverie. You were in awe as you watched him voice his thoughts. “It feels like you would do anything in this world to keep her safe.”

It had only been a few days since the birthday dinner and though you and Toji hadn’t spoken at all after he safely saw you back to your place, you hadn’t stopped thinking about him and what he said about having a soulmate. More specifically, having you as a soulmate. 

You were lying in bed on a Friday night, still thinking about Toji, when you heard some noises outside your room. You froze and listened really hard, and finally picked up the sound of your front door opening. You lived alone. 

You quickly sat up in your bed, just staring at your bedroom door until you heard some light clanging sounds of metals touching. That was when you ran to your closet and curled up into a ball in the dark space, as you fumbled for your phone. You didn’t hesitate to call the first person that came to mind. 

“Hello?” Toji grunted after five rings. He sounded groggy and tired. You wouldn’t be surprised if your call woke him up. 

“Toji,” you whisper-cried. If you weren’t so scared, you could probably hear the rustling on Toji’s end as he shot out of bed. “I think there’s someone in my home.”

He sounded far away when you heard him hiss, “Fuck!” A second later, his voice was steady and definitely nearer to the phone when he asked, “Where are you?”

“In my clo—” You jumped and whimpered when you heard something crashing to the floor outside. You couldn’t even take notice of Toji audibly making a mess of his home to rush over to you. You’re already crying when you finished, “My closet.”

“‘Kay, stay there, sweetheart,” the man instructed through the phone slowly, calmly. You pursed your lips and nodded. “I’m coming, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered as a fresh hot tear fell on your cheek. 

Toji ended the call then and you had to clamp your hand over your mouth to bar any sounds from leaving you. You were alert as you kept your ears peeled to what was happening outside. There was a lot of rummaging around in the living room until you heard your bedroom door open. You shut your eyes and pressed your palm harder to your mouth. Another streak of hot tears cut through your skin. You were scared out of your wits that they might have found out there was actually someone at home on a Friday night. 

You had to listen to the intruder go through your belongings, finding valuable items to take as their loot. In the shroud of your anxiety, you missed the sound of your front door opening. But you could hear everything that happened after. 

The loud crunch of bones, the cries of pain, the under-the-breath curses. You could only hope that Toji was finally here. Still, you didn’t leave the closet in case it wasn’t. Tears were still falling from your lash line and your hand was now back over your mouth when the doors to your closet were finally yanked open. Out of reflex, you squeezed your eyes close. 

“Oh, thank fuck,” you heard a familiar, low voice breathe. 

As you opened your eyes again, you saw Toji dropping to his knees before you, his big hands reaching out to you. You couldn’t see his surprise when you fell out of the closet and into his arms, sobbing into his chest. It took him a few seconds to get over his shock but he quickly wrapped an arm around you, his other hand stroking the back of your head. 

“Shh, shh… You’re good, Princess,” Toji murmured, tilting his head slightly so his lips brushed your hair. You clung onto the fabric of his shirt, sobbing even harder. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” the man whispered, his voice breaking. He had never felt more pain in all his life than right now, listening to you cry while he held on to you trembling.

The both of you stayed in this position for a long time, Toji just patiently holding you, gently stroking your hair, humming softly as if he knew that some white noise might make you feel better. 

It took you a really long time but when you’d finally stopped sniffling, you stayed slumped in Toji’s arms, your cheek smushed against his tear soaked shirt, suddenly spent from all the crying. The male stroked his hand down your back, his other hand cupping your damp cheek. His palm was rough, calloused and warm. It made you snuggle into his hold. Toji tilted your face up and you fluttered your swollen eyes open to gaze into his worried eyes, the rest of his face stoic and expressionless except for the slight downturn of his lips. 

The rough pad of his thumb swiped across your cheek, his touch making your eyes flutter shut again. You heard him sigh as he moved slightly. You peeked at him evaluating your room. Then, he turned back to you as he brushed your hair away, tucking your locks behind your ear. 

“Let’s pack your stuff. I want you to stay with me tonight,” he declared, so firm with his decision that you simply nodded, too relieved and tired to feel nervous or incredulous at his offer. 

That night, despite the both of you being soulmates, Toji respected your space, giving you his bed while he slept on the couch in his living room. After all, this was only your fourth time meeting. You were practically still strangers, at this point. 

He was right, of course. The security in his building was way better and his apartment complex was fancy. His place was the perfect bachelor’s pad, maybe just a little too big and empty for one person if you really cared enough about these things. 

It was currently two in the morning and you’d been wide awake despite how mentally exhausted you were from the distress you were under, all because you were aware of every little sound you heard. Tired of being kept awake because of paranoia, you got up and went to find the only person whom you knew could make you feel safe. 

Your footsteps were quiet as you left the room but Toji could still somehow hear you as you saw the silhouette of his head popping up off the pillow on the couch. You stopped where you were as you wrung your fingers together nervously. 

“Toji?” you whisper-squeaked. 

The man quickly sat up on the couch, facing you. He was probably going to respond, but you gasped when you heard a muffled sound coming from the unit next door. At once, you dashed towards Toji, knocking your knee against the table in your haste. 

Your soulmate caught you when you threw yourself at him, somehow cushioning the impact of your catapult. He immediately gathered you towards him as you sat on his lap turned to the side, your face in the crook of his neck, your arms circling his nape. He rubbed your knee, soothing your injury. 

“Just the neighbour, sweetheart,” he murmured into your hair. You were still clinging onto him like a baby, not saying anything. So he asked, “Wanna go to bed together?” 

You nodded at once. So Toji picked you up easily as he walked into his bedroom, laying you down on his bed and tucking you in before he came round the other side of it. He slipped under the blanket and you immediately curled into him, though not too closely. 

Now that you had your soulmate with you, sleep fell over you like a curtain. But it was not easy, because you jumped in the middle of your night when you heard a loud thud from outside. This time, though, you had turned to the other side in your slumber, which meant you were facing away from Toji. Your heart was thudding hard and fast against your chest. Breaking out in cold sweat, you stayed frozen as you focused your wide eyes on a suspicious spot in the dark room. 

You twitched when you felt a warm, heavy hand on your arm. “It’s alright, baby,” Toji murmured, his voice so low and sandy that you almost couldn’t hear him. “I’m here.”

You flipped around immediately and scooted your way into Toji’s chest, no longer concerned about the fact that you’d only met four times or that you were practically strangers. You were afraid and all that mattered was that  he was the only person who could make you feel better. 

Toji moved closer as well, his strong arms coming around you and you just naturally fit in them, your head already on his bicep and his other arm around your back, gathering you close to his warmth. He hummed, the reverberations in his chest providing you with comfort. Taking in a deep breath of Toji’s scent, you felt yourself calming down. It took you less than five minutes to fall asleep again. 

When you awoke the next morning, you were well rested and just slightly disoriented. You blinked around the unfamiliar room and the big, messy bed you were in. Before you freaked out, the bedroom door opened. You turned to see Toji walking in with a cup of coffee in one hand, the newspaper in his other. He noticed you awake and though he didn’t smile, you wondered if you were seeing things when you noticed his dull, green eyes light up. 

“Alright, Princess?” 

You nodded as you watched him climb back to bed next to you. He set the newspaper on his lap and took a sip of his coffee before setting the mug down on his bedside table. He turned to you, tentatively reaching out to brush a stray hair away from your face, his finger lightly brushing your cheek. 

“Slept well?” You nodded again, rubbing an eye. He hummed, now feeling more comfortable as he stroked your hair with his palm. You nuzzled into the pillow and shut your eyes again. “Still tired?” Your nod was becoming lazy and hard to notice. “Good night,” he whispered. 

The next time you woke, it was because of the alluring smell of bacon. You immediately got out of bed and padded out to the kitchen where Toji was at the stove, his broad back shielding you from what he was making. Going over silently, you stood next to him and peered over his muscular arm and saw that he was cooking eggs and bacon. You glanced up at him and he flicked his gaze to you, his eyes darting about your features. 

“Hungry?” You nodded shyly. “Of course you are. It’s 12PM.” You blushed, thinking he was making a subtle jab at your sleeping habits. But then he said, “You can go back to bed after eating. You had a rough night.”

“Toji, tha—”

He interrupted you from thanking him. “I told you your building wasn’t safe. You’ll listen to me now, right?” You gave an remorseful nod. He turned off the fire and leaned against the counter as he tilted his body to face you. He looked serious and scary, like a berating father. “You can’t keep living there, sweetheart. I can’t have you caught in another situation like this, you hear me?”

“But I can’t—”

“Move in with me.”

The fifth time you met him was the last time you ever had to count the number of times you saw him. Because you’d moved in with him, no questions asked. Toji was going to slowly work his way to making you quit your job but for now, he was content with you staying with him. 

You were unpacking when a cosmetic product fell out and rolled under the couch. Crouching closer to the ground, you dug your hand under the sofa and felt around for the bottle, only to come in contact with what felt like a card. Curious, you fished it out and saw that it was Toji’s credit card. 

“Toji?” you called. You heard a grunt from the bedroom and he was out the next minute. Brandishing the card to him, you announced, “I found this.”

His eyebrows were furrowed as he walked forward to retrieve it from you. You watched him scan the card for a second before his eyes lit up in recognition. 

“Where’d you find this? Under the couch?” You nodded. He had such an incredulous look on his face that you almost wanted to laugh if not for him almost rushing forward and squatting next to you. Your eyes rounded in surprise. “You can reach under the couch?” he breathed, looking so amazed that you cracked a smile. 

“Yes…?”

“Holy shit,” he cursed. He sounded the most excited you thought he could ever sound when he requested, “Babe, I have so much shit down there that I couldn’t reach. Would you be a doll and get them for me?” 

You nodded slowly. “But… why didn’t you just use something to help you fish them out?” 

He had a deadpan look when he answered, “Can’t be fucked.”

So you got back down and managed to pull out a golf ball, a set of keys, an expensive looking pen, a battery, some coins, a cell phone, and an ointment tube. The last item you got out was your makeup spray. You finally sat back on your heels and stared at Toji, who was in awe at all the things you retrieved. 

“How do you even— A cell phone?!” You shook your head when your soulmate opened his mouth to explain. “I don’t wanna know.”

“You’re perfect,” he murmured before cupping your face and pulling you closer to press his lips to your forehead. 

“Where are we going?” you whined, now so comfortable with your soulmate that you hid no thought or emotion from him. 

“You’ll see,” Toji muttered, still as frugal with his words as ever. Although you realised that he let down his guard more at home, he was still more content with listening to you than he was speaking. 

Toji led you to the entrance of a bar where you had to go down a set of stairs, his hand held behind his back as he carefully walked you down the steps. It was three in the afternoon and you weren’t sure why you were at a bar until he pushed through the door that had a ‘closed’ sign and two familiar men sitting at the bar counter turned to face you. 

Satoru wasted no time in hopping off his stool to bound over to you. “Hello, my lovely,” he cooed as he slung his arm over your shoulder and reached his other hand out to pull yours away from Toji’s hold. You blushed at his friendliness. “Did you come to see me?” 

You were propelled to sit on his warmed up stool, the white-haired man helping you up on it easily. His soulmate smiled courteously at you. Toji tried to take the seat next to you but Satoru immediately planted himself on it, scooting closer to you. You thought you heard Toji growl. 

“You remember Suguru,” Satoru reintroduced, holding an arm out to his soulmate. You nodded. He grinned and moved closer to whisper, “Tell him to pay up.” You frowned and turned to him, only to realise how close his face was. Satoru’s grin widened when he saw your face getting redder. He leaned back a little. “He bet you’d have cut your thread by now.”

You heard Toji scoff. “Why would I?” you asked. 

“Because Fushiguro is an irritable old fart,” Suguru answered matter-of-factly. “I didn’t think you’d want to stay soulmates with a man like that.”

You frowned. “That’s mean. I like Toji.”

“Aww,” Satoru cooed, resting his head against yours. “You’re such a sweetheart. Toji is lucky to have you.”

“There’s no ice.” You turned to see Toji now behind the counter, glaring at the two men before him. 

“Yeah, we had to buy. Our ice maker is—” 

Toji didn’t even listen to the rest of his sentence before he went to the kitchen, where you assumed he was getting the ice they bought. Suguru rolled his eyes. 

“See what I mean?”

You giggled a little. “He isn’t always like that,” you promised them. 

“What is he like, then, when he is with you?” Suguru wondered, almost dubious that he could be anything but mean and grumpy. 

You thought about it as you watched your soulmate come back through the kitchen door with two glasses filled with ice. He got a cocktail shaker and started putting together a concoction. 

“Hmm,” you hummed. “He takes care of me all the time,” you murmured. Toji glanced at you, holding your gaze with his. “He always lets me have my way—“

“Within reason,” Toji added in a mutter. 

One time in the two months you had been staying with him, you’d asked to go to sleep with your head under his shirt, very literally to hide inside the shirt he is wearing. Which, resulted in Toji rejecting your incredulous idea and you whining and guilt-tripping him by swearing you were cold and needed more warmth. He finally compromised but instead of doing what you asked, he slept top naked with you snuggled up in his chest. He never wore a shirt to sleep ever since then. 

Ignoring his comment, you continued, “And he makes lame dad jokes sometimes—”

“No way,” Gojo breathed in awe. 

You nodded at him to reaffirm what you just said. “And he is really nice to me.”

Toji placed a glass of milky white liquid on the counter in front of you before going to wash the equipment he used. Then, he poured himself a whisky and stayed on the other side of the counter where he could see you better. 

“What’s this?” you murmured, picking up the glass he put before you. 

You glanced at him watching you over the rim of his drink, an eyebrow ticking in a non-verbal way of telling you to go ahead. So you took a tentative sip and smacked your lips as you tried to figure out what it tasted like. It was sweet and just a little bit sour. You really liked it. 

“Candy?” you guessed. 

“Skittles?” Satoru joined in. You turned to him in shock because how did he know what exactly it tasted like? The blue eyed man immediately shot up from his seat and pointed an accusing finger at your soulmate. “You motherfucker! You said you didn’t know how to make any of our cocktails!”

“Of course he does, Satoru,” his soulmate sighed. “We taught him and Shoko how to make them.”

“Why would you tell us that you don’t, then?!” Satoru yelled, frustrated at his best friend. 

“Too much work,” Toji shrugged, taking another sip of his whisky. 

Satoru grumbled under his breath, not forgetting any curses directed at your soulmate too. “So you actually knew how to make a Hollow Purple?” Toji stayed staring at his friend and Satoru somehow knew what that meant. He blew up again. “You motherfucking fuck! Those girls were so fucking hot! They never came back again!”

“Because I didn’t make their drink?”

“Yeah, and your stale ass attitude,” Satoru spat. 

“They were embarrassed,” Suguru explained. 

Toji scoffed. “Shouldn’t have hit on me then.”

“Well, you were single then.” Suguru glanced at you, as if to let you know that your soulmate wasn’t cheating on you. “And I guess you’re an alright looking man.”

“You and Satoru are handsome too,” you remarked, wanting to be part of the conversation somehow. 

Gojo cooed as he grabbed your face to land kisses on your cheek, making you scrunch up your face. “I’m going to love you, and take care of you, and—”

“Get off her, you creep.”

Satoru stopped to glare at your soulmate, who looked unamused and annoyed at the scene before him. Just to play along, you circled your arms around Satoru’s waist and tilted your head to press your cheeks together. 

“I like Toru,” you say cutely.

All you heard was a loud squeal before you were smushed against the white-haired male in a tight hug. 

You locked your phone and stared up at Toji as he watched a soccer match on the TV. Noticing your gaze on him, he glanced down at you with your head on his lap, his arm resting across your chest. He raised an eyebrow in a wordless question. 

“What went through your mind when you found out I was your soulmate?” you wondered. 

He was quiet for a while before he murmured, “That I was a lucky bastard.”

You quirked a smile. “Did you really?” He hummed as a yes. “You didn’t think I was weird?” 

He frowned. “Why would I?”

“Because I was so awkward…”

Toji bent his arm to stroke your chin. “You were so cute.” His eyes were so soft on you. “The cutest thing I ever laid my eyes on. I was so afraid I might hurt you.”

Now, it was your turn to frown. “Why would you?”

The back of his fingers now stroked your cheek absentmindedly. “You’re so innocent and so tiny compared to me, Princess. I’m still afraid I might accidentally roll over you in my sleep and kill you.”

You giggled. “You’re so funny, Toji.”

“I’m not kidding.”

You didn’t doubt him. He may be a man of few words but he was good at communicating his feelings through his actions. He would always put you before himself and he would always be hovering over you in case you hurt yourself. 

You smiled up at him, your heart feeling so full. He was the sweetest man alive. “You know, I actually thought you didn’t like me when we first met,” you confessed. Now thinking back, it was kind of funny. 

“I’m sorry you felt that way,” he apologised, now cupping your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. “I’m not good with people.”

“You’re good with me,” you chirp with a cute smile. 

“Well, you’re not people.” 

You frowned. What did he mean by that? 

You were about to start pouting when Toji said, “You’re my Princess and my baby.” 

At once, your face exploded in red. Your heart started pitter pattering against your ribcage. You grabbed Toji’s hand and used it to cover your blushing face. You could hear him laughing, which made you whine. But you stopped and held your breath when you heard the next sentence Toji murmured. 

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, baby.”

And he was the best thing that ever happened to you, too. 

Part 1, Part 2 >>

-

© chocochipsushi 2024 all works are mine, please do not rewrite/plagiarise

[adeleidetheexplorer]

ᰋ  ׅ࣪   ꒰  pac short reading ♡︎ why you are so attracted to your crush?  ꒱ 

01. 02. 03.

01

You always find yourself really attracted to them because you felt this familiarity and similarity. You felt that your soul is connected with this person, you think that they're a potential soulmate. You think that your energy is being pulled by them, that your spiritual guides are calling and telling you that they're the right one. You probably thinking or imagining about them before going to bed at night or in a simple description, you love staring at this person from a distance. It's just because they filling the space of your heart that is longing for two things which is love and goals. You have fears and worries that is blocking you to reach your goals which is you see differently from this person, you think that they're lucky and blessed for having this life and to attain their goals and earning the popularity they were having from others without having hang-ups. You adore them for what they do and you are disappointed to yourself for unable to do the same. What do I love about this pile is the querent know how to read people, you had this undeniable instincts. You know how to support people around you to be their star self and you maybe hate being in large social gatherings. Well, perhaps of having shy and timid qualities, you always find your own happiness in your own little world by enjoying most of your time alone and doing your own business.

02

Your mind is creating its own fantasies about this person. You may often dream about this person, the thing like you are with them and they're deeply in love with you. It can also be that this person is the one of the reasons why you can't properly sleep at night because of excessive thinking about them whether they like or not. There's an indication here that this person is giving you too much mixed signals where you find yourself questioning about it most of the time. You are being guided about this connection, you know the answers you are searching and seeking for.

03

Just for the few people who chose this pile, you weren't totally sure which crush you were asking when you chose a pile. The reason why you are so attracted to them is that you see something that no one else may seem to see about this person, it can be their kindness, protectiveness nature or their pain that they've been through. This person seems pretty popular within their own world and people look above on them. They also have a beautiful side profile or they can sing really well. Another to add on, they are low-key and private. They are perceived as attractive to most people.

© thecelestialperiwinkle / adatheexplorer 2024

[allwaswell16]

Happy Fan Fic Writer Appreciation Day 2024!

The first lines of some amazing fics by some of my favorite 1D writers! Since I've done this post for so many years, this year I limited it to fics that were published in the last year or so. Please check out the past years' lists here where you'll find even more incredible writers! Thank you to every writer in our fandom for your gifts of fic to us all!

Louis hung up his keys and coat as his cottage door closed to protect himself from the drizzle.

He’d only given in because he was lonely.

The sun sat low in the sky, bathing the expanse of beach in warm, golden light. 

Louis looked around the room, waiting for the others to laugh and let him know that the last ten minutes had all been an elaborate joke and of course they weren’t serious. 

Harry’s thighs burn.

Harry Styles was a star.

Harry Styles has standards. 

The man in the video was annoyingly chipper in the face of what seemed to Louis to be imminent disaster. 

The first time it happens isn’t even intentional.

Louis Tomlinson strived for perfection in everything he did.

Liam Payne doesn’t know how he got here. 

Standing in front of the second-hand mirror hanging on his closet door, Harry looks himself over. 

If she was being honest, the last thing Harry wanted to do at the moment was get ready to go out.

It had been a good idea when he’d agreed to it.

Louis tilted his head up and took in a deep breath.

Bosworth Academy for the Well-Bred Omega sits upon a hill overlooking the quaint town of Kinsey in county Durwin.

Stumbling through the door, Liam dragged the sweat soaked vest over Zayn's head, pushing him back against the wall.

It’s December first.

He gets sent home.

Life wasn’t supposed to be like this.

All Louis’ life, he’s known he’s been different.

Liam is in the middle of fucking nowhere, the two-lane highway stretching ahead and behind him, as far as the eye can see. 

When Harry first tells him, Zayn isn’t sure what to think.

Spending his Saturday night with an older man who was not his father was never what Harry Styles pictured his mid-twenties to look like.

Louis rolls over on his back, sighing in frustration as he fumbles for his phone on the nightstand.

“Wait! Please don’t go!” 

Waking up from rut is a bleary, confusing experience. 

He knew scrolling through his phone so soon would only end in disaster, and yet he opened Instagram anyway.

There’s music echoing throughout the rink, an instrumental Disney song.

The telly is on when Louis comes home, keys jangling in the lock as he swings the door open and kicks off his shoes into the haphazard pile by the mat. 

“So, what did you have in mind?”

Two essential tips for anyone planning to take a nighttime stroll: don't forget to bring a heavier jacket, and make sure your phone is fully charged.

The large fluorescent lights groan awake high on the ceiling overhead as Harry flips on the light switch.

“You heading home, mate?” Liam asked as the movie ended.

Louis curls his hands around the balcony railing, tilting his head up to let the slanted rays of the evening sun catch on his face.

When Harry opened Niall's door, a combination of warm air and cologne greeted him.

“Harry? Are you home, love?”

It was the first day back after Winter Break, and Louis did not want to be here.

Louis has been single for 369 days, and the last place he wants to be is at a wedding.

Louis had always known Harry was his soulmate.

Even before Louis presented as an omega, he’d dreamed of one day finding his soulmate.

Authors in order of first lines:

@nouies @jaerie @disgruntledkittenface @2tiedships2 @haztobegood

@lululawrence @daggerandrose @homosociallyyours @alwaysxlarrie @thelavendrhaze

@fallinglikethis @kingsofeverything @becomeawendybird @reminiscingintherain @louandhazaf

@thedevilinmybrain @laynefaire @londonfoginacup @ladyaj-13 @jacaranda-bloom

@voulezloux @phdmama @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed @parmahamlarrie @crinkle-eyed-boo

@uhoh-but-yeah-alright @absoloutenonsense @all-these-larrythings @beelou @justanothershadeofblue

@galacticlarry @persephoneflouwers @letthemusicmoveyou28 @enchantedlandcoffee @shimmeringevil

@imogenleewriter @lunarheslwt @red-pandaaa @loveislarryislove @hellolovers13

[bettysupremacy]

Steve-o

Summary: Steve thinks you’re very pretty, and desperately needs your number.

A/N: i love Steve. a lot.

The world stops for approximately 5 second when Steve Harrington first sees you. It’s heavy crashing infatuation that has Steve questioning, is love at first sight real?

He’s never been a believer in this sort of thing, you get to know them, you fall for them. At least, that’s how it was with Nancy. You can’t fall In love with a person you’ve never met, you don’t even know them. 

But that’s what Steve found so beautiful, the unknown. 

“Dude, why aren’t you walking?” Robin turns from where she stands, realizing Steve is no longer beside her.

“It’s her, Robs.” He breathes.

“It’s who?” 

“My soulmate, my pairing, my one true love.” He contradicts everything he believes in.

“Oh my god,” Robin groans annoyedly. “You cannot be serious right now, Steve.” 

He nods. “As a heart attack.” 

Papers scatter the Scoops Ahoy wheel table you sit at. They’re filled with words and colorful highlighter. Smart, he thinks, I know she’s smart.

“Get your ass over here and keep walking, we’re gonna be late.” He won’t budge. “God, please, Steve.”

“I need her number.” He shakes his head.

“You need one less late clock in.” 

Steve whines, breaking his eye sight on you for the first time. “Let me have this, Robs.” 

“I’ve let you have 3 late days, one more and Kieth said he’d fire your ass.” 

“Kieth says a lot of things.” He turns his head to her. “How do I ask? Name first? Number? Age?” 

“Well typically you introduce yours-“ 

“Fuck off, Robin, I know what I’m doing.” 

He takes a moment. Maybe he should’ve let Robin finish her advice, he’s never been this nervous to ask out a girl. 

“This level of melodramatic is a new low, Steve.” 

“Fuck off.” This pushes him to walk into Scoops. 

When he reaches the table, it’s an obvious realization that you’re studying. The papers are neat despite thrown around, and there’s a highlighter key next to your elbow. He feels guilty interrupting. 

Be normal! Repeats in his head like a mantra. God!

“Hi,” he starts, he feels like he could throw up. “I’m Steve.” 

You startle. “Hi, Steve.” 

He laughs nervously. Robin rolls her eyes so hard her head tilts back and her hands come up to cover her face exasperatedly. You smile. Steve doesn’t. 

He takes a look around the room awkwardly.  How could he ever stand these blue and red lights? “I used to work here yanno.” 

You nod. “You work in the video store now.”

“That I do.” He bounces in his new shoes, “Wait, have you been in?” 

“Yeah, I come every Saturday.” 

“No shit.” He breathes. You look taken aback, a little confused, a little offended.

“I mean! No shit, I would’ve remembered a face so pretty.”

“Good one, dingus.” 

“Take a walk.” He replies quickly. 

“Do you.. need something?” You ask carefully. His face crumples and something sick in your heart twists. “Not to be rude! I just- English 101 doesn’t finish itself.” 

“English 101! You go to Hawkins Community? I was gonna go, I just wanted a taste of hardworking minimum wage life first” his eyes widen, “not that what you’re doing isn’t hard work!” 

Can the world just cave in on him now? Shoot me.

“She asked a question, Steve-o” Robin puts in. Unhelpfully.

He glares at Robin. “I was wondering if I could get your number? It’s okay if not!” He adds quickly. “Just like- maybe we could go out sometime?” 

Your head spins, pretty boy comes and asks for your number? You can’t mess this up. 

“You like movies?” 

“Uhh duh,” Steve laughs. Robin doesn’t know how much more she can take of this. “Totally.” 

“You pick a movie,” You smile, “and come over Saturday. I’ve got a really big tv.” 

Now Steve may be nervous, but he wasn’t born yesterday. 

“Yeah!” He seems overeager. “Yeah,” he fixes. “I’ll pick out a movie.” 

“Okay.” You smile up at him.

He juts out his wrist. “You can write it.. here.�� 

Your laugh cuts through his nerves like a sharp knife. “Yeah, okay.”

Pretty pink highlighter seeps into Steve’s unblemished wrist. He watches you write your number moonstricken. Your fingers press into his skin warmly and something turns in his tummy, you’re so pretty. 

“Well I’ll be seeing you..” He looks at his wrist, “Y/N.” 

“I’ll be seeing you, Steve-o” She takes from Robin. 

He laughs, turning to walk with Robin again. “Steve-o” he mouths. 

Robin is sure to have an aneurism. They were supposed to clock in 3 minutes ago. 

“You happy with yourself?” 

Steve grins, big and boyish. “Yeah, I am.” 

[iamgonnagetyouback]

Heyy! Happy late Halloween 🎃 I looooveee your writing !! Could you do headcanons for how marauders would react if the reader could do legilimacy? They're muggleborn so they didn't think it was that big a deal bc they thougjg all wizards could do it and casually mention it

headcanons for marauders reacting to reader knowing legitimacy

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 tries to brush it off as if he’s totally unfazed, but internally, he's panicking.

➯His first instinct is denial—surely, you’re just perceptive, right? But as soon as you respond to something he hasn’t said out loud, he’s rattled.

➯He’ll keep "testing" you, thinking ridiculous things like "I bet you can’t hear this" on a loop, only to break into a fit of laughter when you answer with an exasperated eye-roll.

➯When he finally accepts that you can actually read his mind, he goes into full-blown soulmate mode, convinced this is destiny.

➯James decides he’s above needing to verbalize “I love you” and will start giving you overly dramatic, lovesick looks whenever he thinks it, just to see if you’ll respond.

James is deep in thought about a prank idea. You: “Exploding ink? You know McGonagall’s going to see right through that.” James: choking “H-how did you know that?” You: “Because you were thinking about it.” James: “No, seriously, who told you? Sirius?! Remus? Who's the traitor?” You: “None of them. Just your brain.” James stares at you with a mix of awe and panic. James: “Brilliant. Terrifying, but brilliant.”

𝐒𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 jumps out of his skin when you first respond to his thoughts, staring at you like you’ve just sprouted horns.

➯He immediately calls you a demon and insists you’re here to haunt him specifically, but secretly, he finds it oddly thrilling.

➯Within minutes, he’s running around thinking of the most absurd things he can just to throw you off, like mentally chanting "I am an irresistible god of charm" to see if you’ll break.

➯Over time, he gets used to it and will sometimes think cute things at you, but never admit it if you notice.

➯Deep down, though, he’s convinced your Legilimency is proof that you’re some kind of witchy soulmate sent from the beyond to torture him, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sirius is debating in his head whether he should wear his leather jacket to breakfast. You: “Leather jacket? Again?” Sirius: whipping around “What?! I didn’t say anything!” You: smirking “You didn’t have to.” Sirius: “I’m being haunted. This is it. You’re a witchy ghost sent to expose my every cool thought.” You: “What cool thoughts?” Sirius gasps dramatically. Sirius: “Betrayed by my own mind!”

𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬, initially skeptical, quickly connects the dots when you casually respond to one of his unspoken worries.

➯His brain goes straight to over-analysis, and he spirals just a bit, convinced you’re both a prodigy and incredibly dangerous.

➯While he finds it fascinating, he's low-key embarrassed every time you catch his stray thoughts—he didn't mean for you to hear that, really!

➯He starts to watch his thoughts around you, editing his internal monologue as if he’s writing an essay for you to "read."

➯Every now and then, he’ll test the limits by thinking random trivia or book recommendations at you, silently thrilled every time you respond.

➯He’s careful but secretly loves that you can understand him on this completely new level.

Remus is mentally debating whether he should get more coffee or just stick with tea. You: “Coffee.” Remus: startles “I—pardon?” You: “Just get the coffee, Remus. You’re going to regret the tea halfway through.” Remus: nervously laughing “Are… are you reading my mind?” You: “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫, the most openly freaked out, will start squinting at you like you’re the strangest creature he’s ever seen.

➯For days, he’s looking over his shoulder, convinced you’re pulling pranks on him somehow.

➯Every time you respond to his thoughts, he jolts and gives you a suspicious look, half-afraid and half-impressed.

➯It only takes one incident of you responding to something he really didn’t want to say out loud for him to become almost paranoid.

➯After a while, though, he’ll start to use it to his advantage, asking for silent reassurance when he's worried or seeking encouragement without having to say it—though he’ll always look a bit jittery when you respond, as if he still can’t quite believe it.

Peter is internally freaking out about his Potions essay, wondering if he should ask you for help. You: “I’ll help you with Potions later, don’t worry.” Peter: jumps “How did you…?” You: “You looked like you needed it.” Peter: “But… I didn’t… I didn’t even look at you!” You: “You don’t have to.” Peter stares at you, eyes wide, before finally mumbling. Peter: “...are you like… always in there?” You: grinning “Only sometimes.”