#literally my soulbond what were you expecting?

[homosexual-fast-dancer]

For character bingo, Boober!!

Thank you Pancake and @gmilfwhore for the ask!

Boober is like if you took the most perfect character of all time... <3

[raticalshoez]

Man, there is just something so fascinating to me about the Boat Boys because I think their relationship has always been akin to like...the rockiest of waters (pun intended). I've just been thinking so much about it...

In 3rd Life, funnily enough, one of their first interactions was just them riding a boat together. In Last Life, Joel ended Etho's series. Even before being soulbonded they've had that sort of "me and the bestie/can't stand his fakeass" dynamic.

If anything was evident in Double Life, it's that they had fun together. It's safe to say they probably weren't the most loyal to one another, mainly due to Etho and his Bdubs withdrawal, but it would be wrong to say that they didn't enjoy each other's company. They both have the urge to cause chaos, but one's more upfront about it and the other is more subtle. They complimented each other and balanced out the other, and when the time came around, they died together poetically.

Limited Life was definitely...a season for Joel and Etho interactions. This season was filled with animosity, and constant jabs, and bitter callbacks to a past life. Boat Boys this season were just killing or insulting each other left and right, not finding a moment of comfort or piece around each other.

Then there's Secret Life. This one in particular makes me kind of insane because there's both the animosity and bite to their words when they're interacting with one another, but there was also sincerity. For a brief moment, these two were able to express genuine care that they still had for one another, and that's just crazy to me. Both Joel and Etho's characters don't know sincerity and always deal more mushy, heartfelt things awkwardly, so this was CRAZY for me. And it always hits harder for me because I've always just imagined Joel and Etho's relationship to just be a very strong, platonic bond. They have people who they are definitely closer to; Joel has people like Lizzie, Grian and Jimmy, and Etho has people like Bdubs, Cleo, and Tango. Those are people that they tend to naturally gravitate towards, but the two of them will always end up crossing paths. And well, that's what being soulmates is really about, right? It's not really about romance; it's about being bound to find this particular person in every universe, no matter what.

Out of all the people on the server, I never expected it to be them. Etho and Joel, the two guys who never seemed to be able to let go of their soul bond when everyone else had moved on to some capacity.

It's like how Martyn never left winter. It's like how Jimmy and Tango will always be each others' ranchers even though they no longer reside at the ranch. It's like how Scar and Grian know monopolies better than anyone. Cleo will always be caught up on BigB's betrayal and Lizzie will remain bitter about Cleo's destructive tendencies towards her home. Impulse will never let go of Bdubs' betrayal. It's the way Scott seems somewhat attached to literally ALL of his exes. The lifers just cannot be normal about each other and every new season adds to their insanity regarding one another.

If you've reached the end of this, I commend you. I'm not adding anything new to this conversation, I'm just yapping and blabbling about the Minecraft series that changed my life and altered my brain chemistry. These worms eat at my neurons everyday and I just HAVE to tell somebody, ANYBODY about my insanity.

[cambriancrew]

Genuine question, with so much childhood trauma how can you be sure you're endogenic? Not doubting you or anything, just curious how you know for sure

Brace yourself, this is kinda long.

For starters, we Willows don't fit any of the trauma models. None of us are Apparently Normal Parts or Emotional Parts, though each of us HAVE an ANP and an EP. (We have C-PTSD, so that tracks.) And while we have issues with disorganized attachment, it's not like one of us is secure and another is avoidant - all of us shared the same issues with attachment when we were younger and now we're all pretty secure, and still plural.

As a child, one of our most common punishments, in conjunction with physical and verbal abuse, was to sit on our bed and think about what's wrong with us. We spent literally hundreds of hours, maybe even thousands, doing just that. We poured over memories. We argued with each other about which of us was to blame for us being in trouble. And over time we eventually recognized that there wasn't anything wrong with us. And that our plurality was because of our innate differences in values and perspectives and our opportunities to grow independently of each other, and our innate stubborn independence (which admittedly was made stronger by trauma, but existed independently of that trauma as an innate trait we all share.) We still thought of ourselves as parts of the same person, and thought everyone had independent parts like us. But we knew it wasn't that we were made to be the way we are due to trauma. We ourselves are responsible for our plurality.

And even if us Willows were traumagenic, we still have the other eight members of our system who are parogens or soulbonds or both, depending on which of us you ask. We clearly remember sitting down and creating or connecting with Jas at 15. We remember her creating Varyn around 19. We used to have all of our notebooks with Jas and us Willow writing back and forth. (Those notebooks were lost in a storage unit that got everything in it sold or thrown away due to an issue with payment - they kept sending the bill to our old address even though we asked them to change it several times. Without the bill we forgot to pay it, and it got emptied. We sometimes refer to this as the Great Storage Unit Disaster, or Fiasco. We lost a lot of really important stuff. ☹️)

At the end of the day, we're all of us Crew affected by our trauma history. But none of us are a reaction to that trauma. None of us hold any of it more strongly than any of the others. Our different responses to it are related to our innate characteristics — Crystal has more perfectionism and, accordingly, self-directed negative emotions due to her values, for instance, and Shiloh being the peace lover that they are is very conflict avoidant — not due to any of us being formed as a response to a traumatic event.

We have sometimes wondered if we were each of us made from conflicting rules and expectations from our tumultuous history as a young child being shuffled from family member to family member until our dad got his shit together and married our stepmom who he's been with ever since when we were 6. But we know who we were with, and none of that really tracks. Crystal's highest value being truth and knowing things was present before we started school, and almost every household we were in emphasized us learning our letters and numbers and things about our early childhood religion and other things like that. Shiloh's highest value being peace was present very early and similarly doesn't match up with one place either. My (Sunni) highest value being living in the moment also doesn't match up. Anna's protectiveness/Mama Bear tendencies could maybe be traced to the household we briefly lived in when our dad married the stepwitch between our biomom and our stepmom. But we don't feel that was the reason she came to be who she was, just the first place we remember her being able to express that, and that place held a very minimal expression — our younger half brother was spoiled and protected by the stepwitch over us Willow so there wasn't really much opportunity for Anna to be protective of anyone. She didn't really have the opportunity to be a Mama Bear until our baby sister was born when we were 9, and she has existed since we were at least 4.

And one of the biggest issues with that theory is that we Willows are literally inseparable. If we were created to fit different household rules and expectations, us four always being together and able to effortlessly communicate with each other doesn't really make sense. And again, even if we were traumagenic, the rest of our system definitely is not.

Hope that helps explain it.

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Blackened Bond (Ch 16)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood, Death, Gore, Japanese Mythical Folklore, No Major Character Death

Previous Chapter: 土御門天皇 (Tsuchimikado)

Next Chapter: Inferno: Flames of Hell

Word Count: 3.3k

Tags: Kamo Noritoshi x Reader, Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife @lordguameow @track5enthusiast @nayydoesthings

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, and specify if you're okay with NSFW posts or not, please mention it in the comments below ty ❤

This chapter is LONG, a lot longer than I expected haha, happy reading!

Chapter 16: Non-Standard

Noritoshi was in a shitty mood to say the least. He went home to his clan immediately after getting a summon. The clan head had discussed their stance on the upcoming war and is readying their jujutsu sorcerers for battle.

His half-brother had made a not too subtle snarky remark about you. "You've already gotten yourself a woman? Wonder if she even likes you. I'm willing to bet Homura's cuter than her." Secretly his brother was curious about you, having heard about your special grade status.

Noritoshi steeled himself, knowing his brother's playboy tendencies at his school.

"That's enough. I am quite serious about her, so don't even think of taking her."

He watched his brother shut up upon seeing him like this and left him hanging.

'Heeehhh? That Noritoshi is actually interested in someone? Interesting…'

Other serious matters aside, his father, as usual, asked about you, only for him to find out you've both gotten into an argument.

The head of the Kamo clan only raised an eyebrow. "That’s normal for every couple."

Noritoshi kept his temper at bay. But he couldn't help resenting his phone call with his father that day. If his father was less controlling and obsessive over their clan status, maybe it would have gone better.

No... He was also influenced by the elders. Ashamed as Noritoshi was to acknowledge it himself.

“We… broke up…”

At that, his father shuts his eyes, mood obviously souring.

"You are literally a fated pair, how is that even possible? *sigh* If it proves too difficult with her… well we had that list of marriage partners set up for you. Homura has made it quite clear she and her family would be very delighted to assimilate with ours."

Is this what Noritoshi wanted? A woman who obviously flirted with him as she lusted for power? No, he wanted you, who never inquired about his status. Just about his family, his mom, dad and half siblings.

You made it very clear you were worried about his family's well-being. And whether they would like you or not. You want him to meet yours. You never even asked him for a gift or much favors. (Though he had a feeling your family was pretty well off, based on your clothes and jewellery.)

And he loved the fact that he could breathe like a regular teenage guy around you. The only thing you’ve requested from him so far was honesty and transparency.

"No. That won't be needed. Y/N is mine. She is the only one for me." He spoke slowly and clearly. This is the first time he actually disagreed with his father. He'd lose his sanity without you.

"I expected as much, I've never seen you this determined about something before. Soulmates are so complicated." His father sighed out. "Do as you wish. It isn't wise for me or the elders to interfere with something as sacred and ancient as this soulbond you share with her anyways."

Noritoshi felt himself earn a small win at that. He was growing a backbone. "Thank you father."

“However! You cannot force her to love you back. Surely you know this. If you don’t get married by the age of 25, as per our clan tradition I’ll have you set up with another woman.”

Noritoshi inwardly sighed, resigned to his fate.

◇◇◇

Needless to say, you trained like a demon as the eve of Christmas quickly approached. Nobody dared come 10 feet near you as you perfected your Blizzard and Tornado techniques. It was normal to hear the crack of a sonic boom and see flashes of lightning around you.

You were hesitant to use your cursed technique reversal. You barely use flames and Inferno in general, but it can't be helped. But now you hold a pack of matches in your hand.

You lit a match and manipulated the flames. It danced dangerously around your fingers before you moved it from one hand to the other.

You were doing well. Spending a lot of time here on campus helped you to control your emotions and not let anger fuel your cursed energy like you did when you were younger. Those were such bad habits.

A wheel of flame circled in front of you. Very clean and stable. All of the sudden, a strong whirl of wind and empty space extinguished the flames like a vacuum … Only one other person in Japan is capable of doing that other than you.

You turned your head to the side and saw an incredibly tall man with snow white hair and a pair of sunglasses approached you. His bright baby blue eyes gently twinkling and peeking over the rims of his shades.

“Satoru nii, it’s been a while. Why visit me now?” You tiredly asked. He came up just a few inches away from you, staring down at you.

“I got a call from Hiroki. I’m here to help you with your special cursed techniques. It’s time, you’ve stopped holding yourself back Neko-chan.” He leered down with his trademark grin.

◇◇◇

You spend the entire afternoon getting pushed around by Satoru. This man was crazy strong. He kicked you against a tree. “OOF” you heaved.

"You avoid using Inferno. Is it because of your childhood trauma? I'm not shaming you but it's something you need to overcome."

You frowned at his words.

"You only have today to train with me y/n! Aren’t you honored I went out of my way from Tokyo to Kyoto?”

"Like hell I am."

“You’re not using the full extent of your cursed techniques. That power is your one true ally in this world. Trust it a bit more. Apart from your soulmate anyways, but I can see you and Noritoshi aren't exactly swell right now." Your eye twitched at that statement.

Satoru eyed the broken strands of red ropes that floated around you. Not a good sign. It was reaching out to the distance. Maybe to where Noritoshi is huh, Satoru wondered. Until he spotted one thin string, still very much intact and alive. He grinned.

��This prick and his fucking special eye abilities’, you grumbled. He hit your back hard, “What bad language you have. Imma straighten you up today kitteeeen~”

He pranced around you and squatted to lean down to your level.

"But seriously, you say you want to get strong but you fear your own power kitten. Don't do that." Satoru pointed straight at your eyes. “Remove the fear of hurting the people around you. Because you’re literally fighting to protect the ones you love, focus instead on harnessing your cursed energy to fight. Your messed up emotions could cost you a fight, even your life. Doesn’t matter if you’re a special grade like me. At this rate you won’t catch up to me.”

You slumped to the ground in defeat.

“To be honest, I feel like my growth has stunted. I don’t know if it’s the lack of powerful opponents I’ve had lately.”

He sighed out so loudly and obnoxiously that your anger flared up at him. “Thaaat’s what I kept telling you. You shoulda come to Tokyo Jujutsu instead of here! 100% I would enjoy teaching you and I mean it. I could teach you ya know, and Yuuta is there as well. Another Special Grade, although his circumstances are quite unique and with the way he is right now, you have a better chance at beating him one-on-one since he’s a newbie to this world. And yet you kept saying you wanted to be here for your family.” He shook his head.

You felt as though your head cleared up all of a sudden. “Because I was here…. I was meant to be here. Satoru. I know it deep in my soul. Because I met Noritoshi and…. “ Your heart throbbed so loudly you heard it in your ears. A deep pain stabbed into you.

Ah right. You said you were over him. You broke up with him weeks ago.

“And? You’re not together anymore. Figure out your heart and I could let you reconsider transferring to Tokyo Jujutsu High you know?” He said with a frown.

Why does the idea of leaving Noritoshi behind feeling like you were carving your heart out? He isn’t anything to you anymore and yet…

No. Enough of this. You’re here to train and fight that curse that killed Sora. Your emotions were all over the place. Satoru came up to you and wiped your tears off your face.

“What are you doing to yourself y/n? Don’t lie to yourself. I thought you wanted to live life as honestly as possible.” Even Satoru looked concerned and troubled over your state.

You gulped. “Yeah you’re right. I told myself I wanted to get stronger and protect the ones I love. Now I’m just running away. Noritoshi at least has been trying to reach out to me, but I shut him down.” Your heart is hurting.

Satoru stared at you and the cursed energy that was rapidly pulsing around you. Then grinned. “Then... Fight me one-on-one right here right now. Let’s make sure to keep the damages to a minimum and take care of the buildings. All the other students are still here on campus. Sky's the limit since both of us can move well in mid-air. I want to see you control your emotions and fight me properly. I’ll hold back.” He said.

You took a deep breath and looked back up. “Challenge accepted.”

You’ve envisioned this countless times. You wanted to see how you could match-up against Satoru and all his years of experience. You weren’t expecting to win, but you were not going down without a fight. Your cursed technique is actually a good matchup for his.

You can manipulate molecules. Though you suspect his control is on an atomic level, and thus could overpower yours due to his finesse and 6 eyes. But you could at the very least try.

Satoru, on the other hand, already knew of your potential. 'She is the only one I know who can actually touch and surpass me, given that she can control gravity and condense molecules. It will come down to timing and refining techniques.'

“Give me 5 minutes to suit up.” You asked. He agreed. You flew to your room and eyed the katana of your father. He actually planned to give it to Sora when she turns 16. But due to her death, he gave it to you instead on your 16th.

The name was Kintsugi, because it was made of two halves before being welded together in the centre with high grade steel. The center has a core of a fine diamond dust that’s infused with cursed energy. It’s a grade 1 special tool that multiplies the cursed energy you put into it by 10.

“Don’t break it. Don’t break it…. But It’s Satoru I’m going against. It will break.” And so you put it back and instead reached for your best twin blades and metallic whip. You coiled it around your wrist like a bangle, before flying back to Satoru.

“Done preparing, kitten?” He had removed his sunglasses and his blue eyes were out wide open as they assessed your cursed technique.

“Yep!” You yelled. “Ah Toru, shouldn’t we inform the elders or Utahime sensei that we-”

He didn’t give you time to speak as he appeared in front of you all of the sudden. Rushing with a right hook. You quickly dodged. He kept his word and is going easy on you at least.

You exchanged a few blows with him, both his limitless and your spacial barrier active so technically, no hits were landed.

Until you warped the space and forced the molecules around them to retract, making you actually reach and hit him.

He must have expected the solid punch, because in return, he kicked you as he warped off your spacial barrier. You eyed him as you regrouped. It’s anyone’s game huh.

“You’re still holding back! Are you going to be like this in a real battle? Are you okay with staying weak? Or do you have to wait for someone special to die before you ignite?!”

Oh no he didn’t. Your emotions raged, and you tried to calm them down. But all you saw was blood red. You never felt this angry at Satoru before. Before you knew it, you had activated inferno, making the entire surrounding area, which Satoru was in, combust and burn up in flames.

You lit up a match and pulled the flames on the ground and trees towards your smaller flame and held a massive ball of fire. Satoru was gone, it was only soot on the ground. You looked up to see him hurtling down at you.

You barely dodged, before wrapping the flames around you as you used it to strike at him repeatedly. You both rose up higher and higher into the air.

“Special art: Goldenrod,” you shot a bolt of lightning at Satoru only for him to dodge it. “Don’t just shoot it from your hands! Electricity is a current! You can make it run through your entire body!” He yelled as you both spiraled and fought over the campus.

He had the energy to teach you while you were fighting. You scoffed, but listened carefully, generating electricity in your hands before letting it wrap around you.

You were both dodging and striking at each other with such power. The trees swayed violently as winds and rubble were thrown about.

“What on earth…” Noritoshi and the other students stared at the flashes of fire, lightning, and wind above the campus.

The sky darkened. Good. If you had water, that was another asset.

He must have realized this as he immediately activated his Cursed Technique: Reversal. “Red.” You were forced back, plummeting to the ground. You swiftly turned and saw Miwa and Mai staring at you with horror.

You pulled yourself up back into the sky, still filled with fire and lightning, narrowly missing the building. You twisted your fingers to the side. The flames turned into the shape of the Dragon and you whipped back to hit Satoru from the front while your dragon of flame hit him from behind.

He danced around your attacks, teleporting from one area to the next to dodge them.

He then easily extinguished your flames with a flick of his wrist, but your lightning stayed. He can’t extinguish it, because it was coursing through your body, constantly moving.

You both stood, hundreds of feet high above the Kyoto Campus in midair. Lightning flashed above and winds howled.

You’ve never been pushed this hard your entire life. Not with Hiroki. Not with Todo. But Satoru was really on another level of strong. Unbreakable like a monster. He didn’t feel human anymore.

You tried for a Mach Speed hit, which you’ve never tried on anyone else; it would kill them on impact. “Mach 3.5” There was a loud BANG!

Going at Mach Speed has its limits of course. You can afford to do Mach 1, 5 times a day. Mach 2, 3 times, and Mach 4 only once.

A huge cone of smoke formed behind you as you launched yourself at Satoru. He was still able to evade you, but you pointed one hand to him, quickly following up on another attack.

“Fubuki.” Your blizzard technique was a combination of Niflheim and Tatsumaki. Cold air whipped around you and you thrust it towards Satoru. A mini tornado has formed around you and it pushed and pulled widely. But you were in the eye of the storm.

Satoru dodged your winds, but couldn’t escape them all, wincing as some small ice shards cut into his skin. He attracted debris and rocks towards you. One caught on your shoulder, making you yell in pain, but the rest you were able to guard against with your winds.

He immediately closed in on you to prevent you from doing another full blast and punched with ‘Red’. You countered with a roundhouse kick supercharged with your blizzard and lightning, neutralising his infinity jujutsu with a bit of mixed gravity control.

A huge gust of whirlwind was emitted from the impact, forcing everyone on campus down to the ground.

“GOJO! TSUCHIMIKADO! STOP THIS!” Utahime was screaming at the top of her lungs, still heard over the roar of thunderclap.

You both looked at each other and knew it had to end soon. Rain was starting to fall.

He threw his back and laughed out loud. “I hadn’t had this much fun in ages. You’ve grown really strong. Stop me if you can.” And flew away from the buildings and into the surrounding forest. You whipped your tornado around you and quickly followed him.

All the other students that had been watching you go at it followed. Utahime did as well. They stood from a distance as both of you exchanged more hits.

You lit another match and let arrows made of flames rain on Satoru, weakening his limitless barrier as much as you could. Only one arrow slightly singed his sleeve. Damn he was good.

Satoru attracted your body with “Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.” You felt like your insides were tearing as you tried to stop his force. But his limitless technique easily overpowered yours. You let go and rushed towards him with both your swords out.

He easily sidestepped and kicked them out of your grasp. The hit was so heavy, even though it hit your swords, you felt the force reverberate throughout your body.

Satoru grabbed your neck from behind, and for the very first time since you were awarded the Special Grade Jujutsushi status, you were forced down onto the ground.

You used your cursed technique to soften the blow as much as possible, but Satoru was relentless as he slammed you head-first down onto the grass.

Everyone winced as you hit the ground hard. "He's not human." Mai said. Everyone agreed, not used to seeing you at the mercy of another party like this. They were reminded of who exactly was the strongest sorcerer alive.

In order to win against Satoru, your goal was to touch him and move past his limitless barrier. Even if it’s just for a moment. You couldn’t use Niflheim or Inferno from afar. He would remain unaffected as he guards and stops the change in movement of molecules around him.

But now his hand was around your neck. Your twin blades suddenly rush to close in around his neck in an x position to gather his attention, while you use your technique to warp the space around his hand to weaken limitless and hold onto him.

You lashed out with your metallic whip, letting your cursed technique run through it. It worked and scratched his cheek a bit.

"Enhanced gravity: Output 30%", the ground cracked underneath the both of you as a massive weight pressed down. And then you shocked both Satoru and yourself with the lightning coursing through you. Screaming at the pain in the process.

He gritted his teeth as volts shocked his bones.

Utahime and the others stared at both of you. "What a huge amount of cursed energy." Todo said in awe. "Non-standard Jujutsu users are insane."

Satoru still had the strength to hit your lower back which caused you to heave out and stop Goldenrod from activating. Both of your clothes were literally toasted. “Haha. You’re a scary one y/n.”

That’s all you remembered before you passed out; you were out of cursed energy.

◇◇◇

Noritoshi rushed over to take you in his arms. Pulling your unconscious body close to his, he gave you a once-over. You had just fainted from exhaustion, there were no serious injuries. Good.

"Noritoshi," Satoru called.

"Yes, Gojo San?"

"Take care of her for me please."

He straightened up, "Of course. There’s no need to ask that from me." He then carried you to the infirmary, holding you gently in his arms.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

Author's Notes: Me writing this entire scene: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!!! (x100)

Y/n was able to fight on par with Satoru, because he chose to limit his cursed energy output and match his skills to her level. A psychokinesis cursed technique would be a natural enemy for limitless since you can condense and expand space between molecules. But you still lack experience in battle. And if we were going to talk about Domains, Satoru would dominate the battle.

[lovebykai]

Other

Pairing: Haiba Lev x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): Cursing.

Soulmate AU

Authors Note: Reposted.

Turns out, Lev was awful with kids.

You were just so tiny and so fragile and sure, okay, he was effectively just the apparition of your soulmate, but when you stretched your chubby baby arms out to him he nearly choked in panic.

What if he dropped you? Or you started crying? God, what if you shit yourself?

Of course, in a world full of different ways to find your soulmate, nobody thought twice about the way your tiny baby eyes had opened and promptly fixated on him; chalking it up to you being a curious, well-mannered newborn was easy enough rather than seeing it for what it was.

Somewhere out there, little Lev had a ghostly version of you tagging along until the day the two of you would meet. Whenever that would be. Lev couldn’t help but wonder if you were just as flustered trying to deal with little Lev as he was dealing with Little You.

Carefully, the boy lifted you from your crib, and your entire body went lax in his hold. If he tried hard enough, he could have interacted with you for longer, but when his form began flickering, he decided it was probably safer just to let you settle down.

* * *

You’d been there as long as Lev could remember. A constant presence in his life, literally brought to life just by his existence.

“Lev?” Your voice was soft as he rubbed at his eyes, sniffling. At the tender age of two, he was generally silent as a ghost. The handful of words he did know, he didn’t use often; you’d gotten so used to reading his body language that when something like this happened and you didn’t understand how to help, your eyes misted over with tears of your own.

“Y/N!” He sobbed, and immediately you’d pulled him into your arms. You weren’t sure why he was crying, but he called for you and you came, wrapping him up in your embrace with soft shushing sounds.

“I’m here, baby.” You cooed, focusing your thoughts on not fading away as he clung to you, crawling into your lap to get closer.

“I’m not going anywhere, Lev. You’re okay.”

* * *

"Lev!" You were three. "Lev! Lev, look at the cat!" And you really liked his name, apparently. It was one of the first words you learned; it made his heart flutter to think about. Anyone else listening to you would probably have struggled to understand your slightly slurred sentence, but he was the resident expert.

"I see. He's a pretty kitty, huh?" You grinned at him for a moment before looking back at the lanky creature.

"It's you." The declaration threw him off for a moment as he furrowed his brows, glancing between the cat -- who, admittedly, had eyes that were eerily similar to his -- and you. When your big, (e/c) orbs met his again and you gave him a genuine smile, he melted.

"You're my pretty kitty."

* * *

“--Y/N’s perfect!” Lev told his classmates, grinning ear to ear as you pressed your hands to your cheeks, turning a bright shade of red.

He’d been questioned about what his soulbond was, and it was like someone had turned on a faucet, because he took the opportunity to gush about how wonderful you were. It was flattering, but mostly just adorable because, y’know, he’s a kid.

“She’s probably not even real.” One of them scoffed and you tried not to glare at the eight year old -- because you were obviously much older and should have been more mature, but he was always such a little shit -- and instead pet Levs head as he glared hatefully at the other boy.

“You’re just jealous cause you don’t know who yours is yet!” The smug tone he used made you smirk behind him; you quickly schooled your features to look neutral when he looked back to you to see if you approved of his assessment.

“I am not!” As expected, the conversation derailed into an argument about whether or not his classmate was really jealous rather than debating your existence. When the teacher finally intervened, Lev smirked at you and you couldn’t help but snicker.

* * *

By seven, Lev was embarrassing for you to talk about; by twelve, you had established friendships and a handful of confidants that knew about him. Some even tried to talk to him, and he noticed that even though you were "too cool" to have much to do with your soulmate at that age, those were the friends you liked to invite over the most.

Fifteen was where things started to get weird.

"So? Is he cute?" One of your new classmates asked with a teasing waggle of her eyebrows, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"He's Lev." The answer seemed odd at the time -- not really a denial or confirmation -- but the conversation went on after some school girl giggles.

At first, he didn't really pick up on it. Call him dense, but seeing as the two of you didn't talk much anymore -- you’d said it was too embarrassing to explain why you were chatting with the air all the time -- it took him a while to notice the change in your behavior towards him. The subtle glances and pink cheeks. The way you'd bite your lip or tuck your hair behind one ear.

"What does he look like?" This time it was a different girl, and you let out an irritated huff.

"Tall. Green eyes. Grey hair." You mumbled, looking anywhere but at the curious stares of your classmates.

"Is he old?!" You turned an interesting shade of red -- all the way down your neck too! How cute -- and glared with righteous indignation.

"No! He looks like he's around sixteen or seventeen. But it's not like he can tell me anything but his first name, so who knows." Lev tried not to snicker at your defensive tone, but you glared at him anyway.

"He might be even younger. It's hard to tell since he's such a giant." Lev started laughing when you had to explain what you meant; with some coaxing from your friends, he humored you and the gaggle of girls who were trying to figure out how tall he was by standing against the wall as you lined up rulers.

He smirked at the way you flushed when he was declared at least six foot two; tried not to think about how much he liked the fact that you were barely five foot one, leaving him to tower over you.

* * *

He’d outgrown you.

Not emotionally or anything, because he would still tell anyone who would listen about how great you were, but physically. It felt like you just woke up one day and there he was, towering over you. Thus, the only time you felt bigger than him was when he was laying his head in your lap.

It was a rare occurrence, but you’d all but mastered being able to touch him; he practically purred when you’d hold his head in your lap after school, running your fingers through his hair. He’d had a particularly rough day today; his parents had started to rip into him about selecting more extracurricular activities, eager to start building up his college portfolio.

Truthfully, you thought he’d be suited to some kind of sport, but they were more interested in academics. It was why he was in so many language classes, not to mention all the advanced studies they were shoving down his throat.

“You should try volleyball.” You said thoughtfully as he closed his eyes, venting about how frustrated he was with life.

“Seriously?” At thirteen, he was unusually tall. He’d be great at blocks-- you had to make yourself calm down, remembering that it was only you who spent the better part of your time sneaking off to watch the sport when Lev was too busy for you. You didn’t think he’d ever even watched a game.

“Or basketball.” You added with a reluctant grumble, looking away from him as he opened one eye to smirk up at you.

“You just wanna see me in tiny shorts, don’tcha?” He teased, and you could feel yourself blushing, even as you whacked him on the forehead.

“I do not!” You only looked to be a few years older than he was -- maybe sixteen or seventeen, if that -- so of course you’d started to notice how attractive he was turning out to be. And sure, maybe you’d humored the thought of what kissing him would feel like a few times, but you weren’t just ogling him constantly or anything.

Well, you tried not to, anyway.

* * *

“Volleyball, huh?” Lev grinned as you watched the match, amused with the way you leaned forward eagerly as the rally between Karasuno and Seijoh carried on. The fact that he inherently knew some things about the game made him wonder if his other self played or not. It would be a pleasant surprise for you, if that were the case.

“No!” You gasped, looking devastated as the match finally ended in Seijohs favor, and he awkwardly patted your back as you groaned and held your head in your hands.

“Hinata and Kageyama are going to be inconsolable.” You muttered, and he tried not to feel jealous of the little redhead you’d grown so fond of since entering high school. You tolerated Kageyama on most days, but the fact that Hinata made you blush almost as pretty as Lev did grated on the boys nerves.

* * *

Lev smirked, practically preening as he spiked the ball once more. You weren’t sure how Kenma was handling your rambunctious soulmate, but you knew you’d hate to have to set for him. Especially with how much he missed.

“Did you see that, Y/N?” You laughed as he turned to you, looking every bit the excited puppy you knew he was inside.

“Sure, you managed to hit one out of the hundred or so he’s sent to you.” The way he slouched earned more laughter, and his teammates all looked to him curiously.

“You’re so mean.” He pouted playfully, moving to drop his elbow onto your head for a rest. You simply refused to manifest enough for him to, smirking as he literally fell through you and had to stumble to keep his footing.

* * *

“Team Manager?” You rubbed the back of your neck. “I dunno, Sho--”

“But you love volleyball!” Hinata interrupted your tentative refusal at his typical noise level. Lev knew how badly you wanted to. He’d spent the better part of his life flitting around you, after all, how could he not have taken notice of your tells?

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’d be a good manager.”

“You should do it.” Lev felt compelled to speak up, reaching out to gently brush his fingers through your hair. Hinata was unbothered by the way it seemed to move all on its own, staring at you with his eager puppy eyes. He was one of your best friends, so of course he knew about Lev and the way your soulbond seemed to work.

Your gaze was fixated on your soulmate, doe eyes wide as he grinned down at you and continued petting your head.

“Okay.” You whispered, and Hinata cheered. Lev laughed and it was like whatever spell you were under broke; you flailed at his arm and whined about how he’d messed up your hair. He just smirked when you spun on your heel -- face adorably pink -- and started chattering away with Hinata once more.

* * *

“Please?” His whisper made your heart lurch; you inhaled sharply as he leaned over you, face mere inches from yours.

“I just-- I love you, Y/N.” His fingers tentatively reached out to caress your cheek, and you let out a shaky sigh at the contact.

“I’m not… I’m not her. Not really, Lev. I’m just supposed to help you find her. I’m just your placeholder til you find the real thing. We don’t even know what will happen to me when you meet her.” You whispered, and he flinched minutely. But then he gave you a soft smile, pressing his forehead to yours with a sigh of his own.

“You’re both mine, though.” For some reason, his words comforted you more than they should have; when he leaned down to press his lips to yours, you melted.

* * *

“I met your soulmate!” Hinata barrelled into your room, practically screeching. You fumbled with your phone, so surprised that the item had been tossed into the air when you jumped.

“What?” The breathless way you said it made Levs chest ache.

“Lev! Lev Haiba! He plays for Nekoma!” You’d had to miss the training camp due to your awful test scores -- though Kiyoko insisted it was fine, and studies should come first -- and sure, you’d been disappointed. But the look on your face now was downright devastated. Lev felt a little sick just seeing it.

“You’re kidding.” Hinata shook his head fervently at the soft accusation; you looked at Lev with wide eyes as though he could confirm the theory.

Instead of speaking, he reached for you with long arms and you stepped into his offered hug. Over the years he’d gotten better about keeping enough focus to touch you, but it was still a difficult thing to pull off. He liked to save it for moments like this, when you obviously needed him.

“Did you at least get his number for me or something?” You asked as the thought occurred to you, and from the dumbfounded look you got in return, clearly Hinata hadn’t even thought to do so.

But then again, your other half must not have either; what the hell was your apparition doing that she didn’t think to ask? God, you guys were a hot mess, weren’t you?

“I’M SO SORRY!!” The shout got the attention of your mother, who very angrily -- and without mincing words -- told the two of you to shut the fuck up.

* * *

Lev had been unusually clingy lately.

After meeting Hinata, and realizing the little redhead knew his other half, you’d thought he would be more excited to meet her. You? Things were about to get really weird, you supposed. But instead, he’d dodged the conversation with a finesse that almost impressed you; when the training camp was over, he’d started reaching out for you more and more often.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.” He confessed, and you smiled softly as he held you to him. His face was pressed into your hair; his lanky body curled around you. You’d tried to be the big spoon once, but your efforts were futile; he preferred coiling around you more than the other way around, anyway.

“You can’t look at it that way.” You’d tried talking him into reaching out to her, but he’d simply said he could wait to meet the other you. Obviously, there was still a little bit of time, since fate had decided you hadn’t needed to be at the training camp.

But it was obviously ticking away.

“We’ve always been together--” The darkness couldn’t hide the way he sniffled into your hair, but you pretended not to notice how heartbroken he was over everything. “What if meeting makes you disappear?” You’d considered that; a small, anxious ball in your chest at the idea.

“You’ll have the real thing, though.”

“I don’t want it if it means not having you.” The rebuttal simultaneously warmed you and broke your heart.

* * *

“Lev?” You whispered, and the lanky apparition looked at you curiously.

“What happens when I meet the real you?” It was a weird conversation to be having on the bus ride to Nationals, but with the very real possibility of meeting your soulmate on the board, you needed to know.

“I dunno!” He laughed, tossing an arm around your shoulders and smirking at the way you blushed for him.

“Don’t worry about it too much, though. I’m just supposed to be a guide, y’know? I’m not even real, technically.” You’d resisted the urge to google what happened to the apparitions when their soulmates met, but only barely. And maybe a bit because you just didn’t really want to know. Mostly.

Looking at your constant companion, you mulled over what to say in response, feeling dread start to build in your chest. When tears tickled your eyes, he looked shocked, but heaved you into his lap with a huff as you tried to look away.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry--”

“I love you.” You blurted out, interrupting his attempt at comforting you by hiding your face in his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, rocking you a bit.

“Then you’re really going to love him.”

* * *

Meeting Lev Haiba was not what you expected.

You -- quite literally, to your mortification -- stumbled into the wall of a man when Hinata bumped you in his hurry to greet Kenma. The moment his eyes met yours, both widening in shock and a bit of horror, the world seemed to sway around you.

“Lev.” His name came out a whisper as he gripped your shoulders, eyes scanning your features hurriedly.

“Y/N.” An equally stunned murmur from him.

Almost perfectly in sync, the two of you realized that neither apparition had said anything; you both separated to look behind you for them. You knew, though.

The apparitions were gone. For the first time in your life, you were completely alone.

* * *

It took a few hours before the memories started coming back. Holding you as a baby, discovering your little crush on him; convincing you to take the manager position for Karasuno.

Lev simultaneously loved and hated that he got the memories of his apparition, knowing that you’d probably received yours as well and wondering how much his words -- spoken in ignorance just a few days ago -- must have hurt you.

Similarly, you were pressing a hand to your lips beside Kiyoko, flustered and frustrated that he loved the other you so much.  At least you knew the pair of you were compatible, if he could find room in his heart for you again.

Watching him play was breath-taking, despite the fact that he was clearly off his game. A fact you felt pretty bad about, but what could you do?

“It’ll be okay.” Kiyoko said, watching the game as well. You swallowed thickly, clearing your throat uncomfortably as you tried to will away your rattled feelings.

“Just remember that she was you,” She looked at you then, and you swiped hurriedly at your eyes.

“Meeting him should be a happy occasion. You loved your Lev, so you’ll love the real thing too.” Her soft smile -- understanding in a way that made you wonder if she was speaking from experience -- soothed your nerves, and you found yourself nodding a bit.

* * *

“This is weird, right?” Lev asked as the two of you sat next to one another in the stands. You couldn’t help the nervous giggle you let out.

“Yeah, it is.” The silence was suffocating. "Also kind of stupid to be weirded out over. I mean, it's not weirder than that time you walked in on me showering and broke the toilet." Lev turned an endearing shade of red at the memory before laughing.

"Okay, no, you broke the toilet when you tried to run me out of there."

"Tomato Tomato."

The two of you laughed, grinning at each other. Tentatively, you reached out to rest your hand on his, and he glanced down at the connection with some surprise before smiling softly at you.

"I'm glad you didn't disappear." Levs whisper made your heart flutter. Propelled  by his words, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his with more force than intended. He laughed against your mouth, reaching up to cup your cheek with his free hand.

[dramatistvx]

Loki fic recs!

Hello there! Here are some of the Loki fics I’ve read that I thought were really good :) Enjoy! 

Some of the fics contain dark themes so please read the tags and be safe! :)

Time Travel -fix it- 

The Fun With Time Loops series by Infinite_Monkeys

Summery first work:

With One More Try (Can We Start Again) 

Loki's attempt to conquer Earth has, to his great dismay, succeeded spectacularly. When Thanos sends him to collect the Time Stone, he strikes a deal with the Stone's keeper: he'll be sent back to the beginning of the invasion, and this time, armed with knowledge about his opponents, he can lose properly.

Or: a time loop fic in which Loki does increasingly desperate things to try and get the Avengers to defeat him already. 

Words: 13,563 - chaptered

Series total; 4 works, words: 78,913

Pretty sure you’ve already heard about this one and for good reason. It’s so good! Loved the whole series. I liked the third work best, tho it’s quite a bit longer than the others -60 k- It has more depth and -wayyy more angst- you get to see more of Loki struggling and him generally being in pain oOp- but he’s trying! Also Thor just wants to help bc he cares hihi. Love love love.

those yesterdays bleeding through by wnnbdarklord

Loki dies on the desolate plains of Svartalfheim, Thor's howls of grief ringing in his ears. He wakes up on his bed in his cell, where there is no sign of destruction.

A time loop fic where Loki gets the chance to fix things on the day the Dark Elves attack Asgard. And another. And another.

Words: 9,508

Another great time travel fix-it fic! I actually read the Fun With Time Loops series because I liked this fic so much and needed more lmao. There’s also a twist in the end that I didn’t see coming ;) It has so much angst for 9k I love XD I’d say that it’s a bit more explicit in the angst so be aware! Overall great read if you want something short and angsty but with a hopeful ending. 

De aging

Amateur Theatrics by galaxysoup

In which Thor’s primary problem-solving method (a mighty blow from Mjolnir) fails to have the desired effect on a magical artifact, and his secondary method (a mightier blow from Mjolnir) proves to be actively disastrous.

Words: 26,586 - chaptered

Love love love this one! After a magical accident, Loki accidentally gets de aged and it’s the most adorable thing ever. There’s fluff and angst and kid Loki is just so precious. I also love how Loki and Clint bond in this. Literally go read this! xD

Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Ichor in Violet by tirsynni

When Thor learns that Loki can travel to other realms without Heimdall seeing, of course he convinces Loki to take them both to Jotunheim to hunt Frost Giants. There an accident unravels centuries of lies and threatens to unravel Loki, too.

Words: 14,574 - chaptered

Where Loki accidentally discovers who he really is and has trouble dealing. Thor is confused, he just loves his brother. The angsttttt. This is dark so be aware! 

The Tapestries series by Lise

Summary first work:

It turns out that even a god can't escape a beating by the Hulk unscathed. At the end of the Battle of New York, Loki doesn't get back up. This changes more than you'd think. 

Series total; 4 works, Words: 30,727

Oh the angst *wrings hands* 

This series is amazing! It’s Loki struggling to deal with centuries of unresolved anger and hurt while simultaneously trying to cope with more recent events, the Void..Thanos. 

Basically, Loki just wants to go home, wherever that may be. Everyone’s trying, genuinely trying. You just gotta know when -how- to stop fighting. It’s very well written and It really dives into the psychological aspects of his trauma. Also, Odin actually cares for once lmao. This one is also pretty dark so be aware! 

Mistakes Made (And Corrected) by ADreamer67

In a different universe, Hela rebelled sooner. In a different universe, Hela Odinsdottir seduced Laufey with promises of power and convinced him to attack Midgard. In a different universe, Hela got pregnant, and didn't want to be. In a different universe, Hela left her newborn son for dead and went to face her father.

In a different universe, Loki Helajarson is two hundred and fifty years older than Thor. Let's see what happens.

Words: 47,072

Woah, just- this is so good!! It’s a very different take on Loki’s character but it’s still really fitting. After Thor is banished and the Odin sleep is fast approaching, Loki is to be king. Things don’t go very well for him, to say the least. I loved how the characters were portrayed and absolutely adored the dynamic between Loki and Thor. There’s so much angst and turmoil and it’s pretty dark so read the tags and be safe! 

Just Close Your Eyes by ADreamer67

Ragnarok has come to pass, the Asgardians have reached a deal with the leaders of Midgard for territory of their own, Loki is allowed to stay (provided he doesn’t leave said territory), and Thor is settled on the throne. So all in all, things are going well, if you ignore the recent massacre and planetary annihilation.

Well, except for the fact that Loki is working himself into the ground. And Thor is having none of it.

Cue a not entirely legal brotherly field trip where Thor will make Loki relax, or die trying. Responsibilities? Pssh, who cares about those? (Hint - Loki. Very much so)

Words: 31,832 - chaptered, still going

So fun! It starts out pretty angsty but it gradually becomes a little more lighthearted. Then, it’s just Thor and Loki exploring Midgardian customs together -mostly Loki being mildly disgusted by them lmao- :) 

Birthright by ADreamer67

Four years ago, Odin told Loki his birthright was to die. If only he knew.

When the Laufeyson was born small, too small and frail to survive, the solution seemed obvious. Though it had been many a generation since it had been done, the child was brought forth to the Casket, to be bound to its' power in an ancient ceremony that would imbue the little one with all the strength of a typical Jotun. That ceremony was interrupted by battle, and the child was left with the unguarded casket, in the hopes that the casket could keep it alive until it was safe to finish the ceremony.

That ceremony was never finished.

Over a thousand years later, the Casket of Ancient Winters is destroyed during Ragnarok. No one thought this would be an issue, least of all Loki. Guess what.

Words: 76,599 - chaptered, still going

This is so good!!! It’s one of the first fics I read in the fandom and it has really set my standards high. There’s so much angst and turmoil and it’s so well written. I absolutely adored the dynamic between the crew and how much Thor loves his brother even though Loki thinks he doesn’t deserve it. I really like the way ADreamer67 portrays the characters. 

Soulmate/Soulbond, Relationships

Maybe You (and your sad blue eyes) by alby_mangroves

Loki had already come to accept being born without a bonded soul to cleave to, one more way in which he would always be the lesser brother. So of course it made sense that it would settle upon him when he least expected it.

(Set in the timeline of Captain America: The First Avenger, Thor, and The Avengers. Canon divergent just before Chitauri invasion.)

Words: 29,258 - chaptered

I don’t really ship Loki and Steve -bc stucky heheh- but I came across this fic in another rec list and I absolutely loved it, plus the art is stunning! Def a great read if you like angsty soulmate/soulbond fics but with a happy ending.

The sexual awakening of Steve Rogers by aLoggedInReader

Steve's life has always been complicated, but he did not know just how much of a rollercoaster it could become until Bucky came to stay with him.

Bucky is trying to be helpful and get Steve to live a little, but between being a hundred years old and having only lived a couple of those years, as an assassin for Hydra to boot, he tends to miss the mark now and then.

Adding an Asgardian prince in exile to the mix surprisingly does not make things easier.

Words: 47,333, still going

Sksjsksksk I don’t really ship Loki/Steve but this one is just so fun. features a lot of female Loki, flustered Steve, protective Bucky and overall wholesomeness and chaotic energy. Everyone just wants Steve to be happy. -mostly Steve centric-

The lines, here are written by dfotw

In a world where everyone has their soulmate's name written on their wrists, Steve Rogers has quite a lot more... and Loki, a lot less.

Words: 18,009 - chaptered

Lmao Imma just stop saying I don’t ship them XD This one is also really good. It’s angsty and tender with a hopeful ending. 

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: Angst

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 remember me by hupsoonheng Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  31082 Tags: Amnesia, Temporary Amnesia, Obliviation, Established Relationship, Established Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Legilimency, Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Reformed Draco Malfoy, POV Draco Malfoy, Good Draco Malfoy, Gardens & Gardening, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, POV Harry Potter Summary:  On a chilly day in October, Draco kisses Harry goodbye before he goes on yet another dangerous, undercover mission with the Aurors. And then Harry doesn't come back. Only Draco believes that Harry isn't dead, and pours himself into finding his husband despite his friends' pleas to move on and grieve properly. What he finds at the end of that work, though, is not at all what he wanted. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 you've got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass Rated:  Mature Words:  20730 Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soul Bond, Red String of Fate, Heavy Angst, Terminal Illnesses, Major Illness, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary:  When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want. He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Every Breath You Take by hephaestiions Rated:  Mature Words:  19252 Tags: Major Character Death, Death (Harry Potter), Suicide, Child Death, Miscommunication, Angst, Angst and Tragedy Summary:  It starts and ends with Death. Scorpius was just caught in between. Like always. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Between Myth and Man by slytherco Rated:  Explicit Words:  16242 Tags: Veritaserum, Truth Serum, Mundane, London, Falling In Love, Lies, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, This whole story is just Draco angsting really, Sexual Content, keeping secrets, Smoking, Bad Weather, References to Drugs, Making Out, One (1) Scared Little Sparrow, And also lots of texting Summary:  Draco, lost and a little broken, navigates post-war reality convinced that people like him should not be allowed to make their own choices. To solve the problem of his self-sabotaging tendencies, he starts taking a few drops of Veritaserum every morning. A story about the complexity of choices, repressed desires that come to the surface when we least expect them, and the utter hopelessness of truths built on a foundation of lies. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Three Boxes and a Scrapbook by dracogotgame Rated:  Mature Words:  30493 Tags: mention of divorce, flangst, Bill is a bro Summary:  One year after being accidentally bonded to each other, Harry and Draco are free to move on with their lives. But perhaps, what they needed was here all along. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Intertwined by bluefay Rated:  Explicit Words:  25086 Tags: Memory Loss, Memory Alteration, Accidental Bonding, Magic Gone Wrong, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Malfoy Manor, Self-Harm, Dark Mark (Harry Potter), Serious Injuries, But they're not very graphic so don't fret!, Self-Hatred, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Established Relationship, Sort Of, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Hate Sex, Childhood Trauma ,Flashbacks, St Mungo's Hospital, Sharing a Bed, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Time, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020 Summary:  On May 3rd, 1998, Draco Malfoy wakes up with no memory of Voldemort, the war, or Harry Potter, his supposed boyfriend. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di Rated:  Explicit Words:  93189 Tags: H/D Fan Fair 2019, Secondary Theme: Travel Fair, Secondary Theme: Book Fair, Commercial Fisherman Draco Malfoy, Failed Writer Harry Potter, Depressed Harry Potter, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Muscular Draco Malfoy, Recluse Harry Potter, Angst, Smut, Drama & Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Wandless Magic, Boats and Ships, Finland (Country), Fishing, Redemption, School Reunion, Minor Draco Malfoy/Original Male Character(s), Anal Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Magic, Suicidal Thoughts, Near Death Experiences, Magical Theory, POV Alternating Summary:  Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography. An invitation to the Hogwarts class of 1998's 15th reunion isn't welcomed by either of them, but neither could predict how the night, and their reunion, will upend their lives. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 When I Put My Eyes On You by Zzzara Rated:  Explicit Words:  31160 Tags: Blindness, Blind Character, Blind Harry Potter, Disability, Physical Disability, Disabled Character, Slow Burn, Falling In Love, Love, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Dorks in Love, Friendship/Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Amortentia, Potions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Emotions, Emotional, Emotional Roller Coaster, Pining, Pining Harry Potter, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Developing Friendships, Romantic Friendship, Best Friends, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, POV Harry Potter, Patronus, Spells & Enchantments, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, Jealousy, Jealous Harry Potter, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Spin the Bottle, Halloween, Party, Party Games, Mistletoe, Kissing, Surprise Kissing, Boys Kissing, Rough Kissing, Drunken Kissing, Gentle Kissing, Boys In Love, Drinking, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, First Time, Explicit Sexual Content, Sex, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, Emotional Sex, Awkward First Times, Sleeping Together, Literal Sleeping Together, Dancing, Showers, Masturbation in Shower, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Sexual Tension, Dreams, Fantasizing, Desire, Self-Esteem Issues, Substance Abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, Lights Camera Drarry 2020, Lights Camera Drarry, LCDrarry, LCD - Freeform, The Way he looks, film inspired, Self-Prompt, Healing Summary:  When a hero defeats a villain, there's supposed to be a happily-ever-after... but when did anything ever happen to Harry Potter the way it was supposed to? Having sacrificed himself to the greater good, Harry is left alone in the darkness, blindly groping for the shreds of the life he knew. When the enemies meet, how is the story supposed to go, once they learn there's more to it than the eye can see? A story of pain, hope and things we discover, once we stop looking for them with our eyes. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 You open always (petal by petal) by birdsofshore Rated:  Explicit Words:  65214 Tags: Post War, Rent Boy!Draco, Down-And-Out!Draco, Grimmauld Place, House magic, Portraits, First Times, Antagonism, Hurt/Comfort, Coming Out, Pining, Angst, UST, Kissing, Frotting, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Intergluteal Sex, Anal Sex, Homophobic Slurs And Attitudes, Internalised Homophobia, Derogatory Attitudes To Sex Workers, Some Mentions Of Sadistic Violence, Brief Thoughts Of Sexual Activity With A Sleeping Partner, Rough Sex, Brief Mention Of Harry With A Woman (Past Relationship), Mentions Of Dubious Consent In Connection With Sex Work, Community: hd_erised, Inexperienced Harry, Top Harry Potter, House Elves, Masturbation Summary:  Harry’s not the kind of person who pays for sex. He really isn’t. Until he is. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Solder by Oakstone730 Rated:  Explicit Words:  34547 Tags: potion/alcohol addiction, Recovery, Nipple Play, Rimming, Dirty Talk, Angst, PiningUST, Reconciliation, LoveForgiveness, Cursebreaker!Draco, Artist!Harry Summary:  Seven years ago, Harry disappeared out of Draco and Scorpius's life without a trace after Harry's addictions destroyed his and Draco's marriage. Now, Harry’s back, and Draco wants to believe he’s changed. But Harry isn’t the only one haunted by the past. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Three Months, Eleven Days and Nine Hours by sassy_cissa Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  sassy_cissa Tags: H/D Food Fair 2018, Angst, Romance, Paroled Draco Malfoy, Rebuilding Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy/, Harry Potter Friendship, Down and Out Draco Malfoy, Food Forager Draco Malfoy, Soup Kitchens, Happy Ending, Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hungry Draco Malfoy Summary:  Broke and living in a one room hovel in Knockturn Alley, Draco hunts in rubbish bins for food. Nothing could be more humiliating, right? Unless you're Draco Malfoy... ❤️ Read on AO3

Texting You by ununquadius Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  6005 Tags: Major Character Death, text fic, draco is dead, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, or maybe hurt/no comfort, Everyday Life, Pets, Asexual Harry Potter, Indian Harry Potter, one penis drawing, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Loneliness, Drinking, Terminal Illnesses, blink and you missed them suicidal thoughts Summary:  After Draco's death, Harry can't let go so he keeps texting their private chat, updating him on his life and rambling about everything and anything until it almost feels like there's a possibility that, one day, a reply will come. Read on AO3

📜 Wake Up In The Night by p1013 Rated:  Explicit Words:  10483 Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Public Sex, Blow Jobs, Versatile Draco Malfoy, Versatile Harry Potter, Anal Sex, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, Facials, 69 (Sex Position), Coming Untouched, Love Confessions, Curses, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Drinking, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, POV Draco Malfoy, Voyeurism, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020, Emotional Manipulation Summary:  In the days after the War ended, there were a great many things that were changed or changing, a great many things that somehow slipped beneath the notice of Ministry officials and healers from St. Mungo's and Aurors that were tasked with capturing fleeing Death Eaters. It was, after all, the end of the War, and much like war itself, the clean up was heartbreaking. Lives had been lost. The world as they knew it had been changed irrevocably. In the grand scheme of things, there were more important things to worry about than Draco Malfoy's sudden, inexplicable inability to feel love. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Coated in Rust and Blood by crazyparakiss Rated:  Mature Words:  2429 Tags: Mpreg, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Therapy, Break Up, Post-Break Up, Angst, Violent Sex, Self-Hatred, Grief/Mourning, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020 Summary:  No one escapes the nightmares. That’s what his headshrinker tells Harry every time he tries to unpack the baggage he was handed from infancy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Here Without You by  gracerene Rated:  Explicit Words:  26869 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, War, Canon-Typical Violence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Character Death, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Background Het, Non-Linear Narrative, Flashbacks, Epistolary, Love Letters, Dirty Letters, An Ode to Draco's Bum, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Top Harry Potter, Implied Switching, Auror Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Explosions, Harry Potter & Parvati Patil Friendship, Loneliness, Denial, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020 Summary:  It's been seven years since the end of the Second Wizarding War with Voldemort, and a new Dark Lady has taken over in nearby Ireland. Harry feels compelled to volunteer to fight on the front lines, but war is never safe, and Harry has a lot—including his blissfully happy relationship with Draco—to lose. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Orion in the Sky by space_wingding Rated:  Explicit Words:  30709 Tags: Bookshop Owner Draco Malfoy, Coffee, Village life, Slow Burn, Pining, Denial, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Jigsaw Puzzles, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, Fatal Curse, Serious Injuries, Suicidal Thoughts, Hospitalization, Death, Character Death, Unhappy Ending, St Mungo's Hospital, Grief, mentions of anal sex, Chronic or Terminal Illness, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020 Summary:  Draco Malfoy owns a bookshop in the Lake District. He’s also cursed. Enter: Harry Potter. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Forgot to remember you by Andithiel Rated:  Mature Words:  1753 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Auror Partners, Magical Accidents, Memory Loss, Partial Memory Loss, Getting Together, DreamsPining, Light Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drarropoly 2.0 - A Drarry Game/Fest, Rated M for language, There's not any real stuff going on Summary:  Harry was hit with a spell that made him forget the week before he was hurt. Most of his memories have come back, but he has a niggling suspicion that he did something wrong. Why else would his Auror partner (and the object of his desires) go from friendly to hostile? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 On the Last Day by trishjames Rated:  Explicit Words:  53481 Tags: Mystery, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Unreliable Narrator, Drama, Dramatic Irony, Flashbacks, Non-Linear Flashbacks, Memory Loss, Horror Elements, Suicidal Ideation, Depression, Occlumency (Harry Potter), Occlumency as a Coping Mechanism, Panic Attacks, Discussion and Depiction of Mini Seizures, mention of overdoses, Revenge, Repression, Science, Neurology & Neuroscience, Neurological damage, Medicine, Potions, Original Characters - Freeform, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Somewhat Bond!Fic, Strong Friendships, Strong Women, Maternal love, Department of Mysteries, Unspeakables (Harry Potter), The Love Chamber, The Death Chamber, Death Potion, Amortentia, The Veil, Near Death Experiences, Souls, Major character death - Freeform, Death, forced drugging, Mind Control (Imperio), Murder, Vomit, Medical Procedures, Consent, Amoral Behaviour, Unethical Behaviour, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Possession, Ghost Sex, True Love Conquers All, ghost!harry, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Auror Harry Potter, Unspeakable/Scientist Hermione Granger, Unspeakable/Scientist Draco Malfoy, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020, Psst...angst with a happy ending.. Summary:  Draco is still mourning the recent loss of his mother when the Wizarding World is struck with the tragic news of Harry Potter’s untimely death. It’s just his luck that Potter not only comes back as a ghost, but seems intent on haunting Draco as he’s the only one that can see him. It’s a race against time to retrace the last few days of Potter’s life in order to find his body before he’s lost to the living or spiritual realm forever. On their journey, they’ll uncover secrets, betrayals, and a horrific truth that will disrupt both the living and the dead. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Poland | A Faint Glow of Hope by EvAEleanor Rated:  Mature Words:  6123 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Summer Solstice, Solstice, Curses, Unspeakable Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Healer Hermione Granger, Herbology Professor Neville Longbottom, Angst, Flowers, Slavic mythology, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Mythology References. Folklore, poland - Freeform, POV Draco Malfoy, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Community: Seven Shades of Drarry Summary:  On Draco’s 25th birthday, somebody attempts to curse him, but Harry Potter jumps between them and is hit instead, with unexpected consequences. Potter is running out of time, and they both embark on a race against time to find the only cure that could save Harry. Little do they know they will need to face a myriad of magical creatures and their own feelings on the way. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Grounds for Divorce by Tepre Rated:  Explicit Words:  122217 Tags: Slow Burn, Pining, UST, Anal Sex, brief but all the same enthusiastic rimming, One (1) lemon tree, Accidental Bonding, And I mean like U! S! T!, Jealousy, Deals with Trauma, They both top at some point, ron is a good friend, Draco is a Good Cook, Dubious Consent due to the Accidental Bonding, The actual SLOWEST burn, Hurt/Comfort, Have I mentioned UST? Cannot overstate this it's like A LOT, First there's frottage, And then there's more sex, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, and just a lot of sex, sex on a bed, sex in the shower, sex on the floor, Sex on a settee, In other news they go to Egypt, Teddy is a Small Bean, There is one (1) cat, and one (1) happy ending Summary:  Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter. A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 At Evening's End by manixzen Rated:  Explicit Words:  31055 Tags: Pre-Relationship, Angst, Azkaban, Hurt/Comfort, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Slow Burn, Post-Hogwarts, Friendship, Past Child Abuse, Enemies to Friends, Auror Harry Potter, Inmate Draco Malfoy, Prison, Auror Ron Weasley Summary:  When the dementors are removed from Azkaban, a compromise has to be made for the prison to remain secure and wizard-kind to feel safe. Harry and Ron find themselves assigned to a rotation as guards during their first year as Junior Aurors as a part of the new system. Harry finds his values challenged in the harsh environment, but an unexpected friendship may carry him through this difficult year. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 all you ever did was wreck me by SailorChibi Rated:  Mature Words:  10807 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, draco has PTSD, Harry has PTSDN, ightmares, Animagus, Harry is an animagus, prison break - Freeform, Touch-Starved, affection starved, Fear of Death, fear of touch, touch repulsed, Trauma, Aftermath of Torture, harry doesn't want anyone else to die, harry is very angry at the world, Protective Harry, harry had to grow up too soon, Possessive Harry, harry wants to protect draco, house arrest, Ministry of Magic, ministry of magic has gone power hungry, Fear of Magic, draco is scared of magic, it's been used for too much evil, Draco Malfoy Feels, Sad Draco Malfoy, Protective Draco Malfoy, Sharing a Bed, platonically sharing a bed, First Kiss, Hugging, Cuddling, Platonic Cuddling, Harry Potter is a Good Friend, death is scary, Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Endingh, appyish ending, might be a little bittersweet, but it will be ok I swear Summary:  After the war, the Ministry decides to make a clean go of it and sentences all Death Eaters to death. After a year spent imprisoned beneath the Ministry, with his mother safely in France, his father dead and only the Aurors who hate him for "company", Draco is waiting for his time to die. Harry gets to him first. ❤️ Read on AO3

[fanfic-corner]

Sabriel

I genuinely have no idea where this ship came from, but it is pretty cute, and I was curious to read a couple fics of them. Besides, I’m currently on season 13 and we deserve more Gabriel content in this time of stress. All of these also have Destiel in them, but which one the fic is focused on varies. I hope you enjoy them!

Rewriting the Book by MonPetitTresor on AO3. (37,224 words).

Tags: Dimension Travel, Alternate Universe, Gabriel in the Bunker, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sam Remembers Hell, PTSD, Post-Gadreel, Mark of Cain, Hurt Sam, Scared Sam, Emotionally Repressed, Sam Has Panic Attacks, The Cage.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: When Sam gets a little too close to stopping Metatron’s plans, the angel decides to use some of his extra juice to get Sam out of his way by sending him to a completely different reality. He never could’ve predicted what Sam might find there – or what he might bring back home with him.

Notes: The trauma in this was written so well, and it is part of what made this amazing. It was really respectful, realistic, and clearly well researched. And, as a bonus, an excellent plot!

In All Your Borrowed Finery by vanishingact on AO3. (67,950 words).

Tags: Winged Dean Winchester, Winged Sam Winchester, Winged Castiel, Winged Gabriel, Spells & Enchantments, Hunters & Hunting, Case Fic, Harpies, Canon-Typical Violence, Major Character Injury, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Fluff and Humor and Smut and Angst, Wingfic, Fan art. 

My Rating: 5 stars. 

Description: Dean finds an interesting symbol in Kevin's angel tablet notes and, against Sam's counselling, uses it in the heat of battle with a pair of angelic assassins. Side effects include pain, disorientation, and uncontrollable new appendages for the Winchesters. A disgruntled Castiel and a delighted Gabriel show up to help. Hunting (and life) gets interesting when wings are involved.

Notes: Okay this was literally adorable and you can not convince me otherwise. Every time I read a fic with everyone’s favourite archangel, I miss him just a bit more.

Black Swans by omphalos and Wolfling on AO3. (66,455 words).

Tags: Post-Apocalypse, Road Trip, Blasphemy.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: A post-apocalyptic road trip with a still recovering archangel wasn't how Sam had envisioned the aftermath of their big plan, but it sure beat a lot of the alternatives.

Notes: This was absolutely brilliant, so well written, and the plot was phenomenal! The misunderstanding was painful, and the original characters were great.

omni gladio ancipiti by lifevolutionary on AO3. (10,892 words).

Tags: Wingfic, Telepathy, Psychic Bond.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: The archangel Gabriel had never chosen a Bearer for his sword. Until now.

Notes: This was so freaking sweet, and I love the idea of Sam just casually having a flaming sword.

Dies Irae, or Something by AlchemyAlice on AO3. (51,223 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Blasphemy, Alternate Universe - Canon, Biblical References.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: It starts with headaches, and it ends in a clusterfuck. So, business as usual, Apocalypse-wise.

Notes: I know it says Good Omens as well, but it is just a brief mention of Aziraphale and Crowley, so you don’t need to know anything about it! And this fic was written beautifully. Is it bad that I miss the apocalypse days?

That One Time Sam Winchester Googled Something Weird and It Had Pretty Awesome Results by quitepossiblyjanuary on AO3. (2,587 words).

Tags: Romantic Fluff, First Kiss, Stars, Humor, Courtship, Short & Sweet.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: In which Sam Googles something and his curiosity doesn't kill the cat. Or him. Or anyone. It's a pretty awesome feeling.

Notes: This was so adorable! Gabe was so sweet, and his mind reading skills made me laugh.

Bing Crosby’s Pennies From Heaven by twentysomething on AO3. (9,613 words).

Tags: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Gabriel, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Death.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Sam always asks inappropriate, poorly-timed questions, so what comes out of his mouth doesn't exactly surprise himself. "Where were you?"

Notes: This was brilliant - the little gifts that Gabe left for Sam were adorable, and I burst out laughing at the image of trying to get Bobby’s wheelchair on top of a toilet.

‘Star Wars is Overrated’ by leftdragonpainter on AO3. (38,186 words).

Tags: Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Pining, Drinking, Writer Castiel, Mechanic Dean, Neighbours, Swearing, Winchester Logic, Big Brother Gabriel, Clueless Dean, College Student Sam, Awkward Dates, Pie, Dean Cooks, Slow Burn, Injured Sam, Fixing Cars, Emotional Constipation, Angst, Confessions, Smut, Love Confessions, Temporary Amnesia, Star Trek References, Star Wars References, Angst with a Happy Ending.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description:  When Dean Winchester turned sixteen he was disappointed by the words that appeared on his chest. He never expected that it would take so much to find his soulmate. He never expected to not remember meeting them…

Notes: Every time I thought I knew what was going to happen, it either went in the complete opposite direction or something totally different happened, and I loved it.

Start Quoting Shakespeare and We’re Done by pyrebi on AO3. (15,579 words).

Tags: Romantic Comedy, Misunderstanding, Banter, Libraries, Food, Ridiculousness, Alternate Universe - Library, Alternate Universe - Human.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: In which Dean has the hots for a librarian named Cas, Cas may or may not have the hots for a mechanic named Dean, and Gabriel joins Sam in the peanut gallery in the hopes that he might just get to do a horizontal tango of his own.

Notes: Damn, the misunderstandings in this were so unbelievably painful. Overall, though, it was very funny and quite cute. Also, I love the idea of Gabe owning a sweet store.

Bring it On Home by lilyleia78 on AO3. (34,482 words).

Tags: Romance, Alternate Universe, Drama, Bonding, Angelic Soulbond, Angels, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: When John sells his sons to Heaven in exchange for the Colt, Dean and Sam find themselves separated from each other and in the care of two very different angels. Dean and Cas work together to find out why Heaven wants Sam and how they can reunite the brothers - all the while growing closer every day. Meanwhile Sam should hate Gabriel and his endless string of conquests, but Gabriel's twisted sense of humor and attractive smile inspire something much more complicated.

Notes: First of all, I would like to say that John absolutely does not deserve any redemption or forgiveness in this fic, but okay. The idea - especially the Sabriel side - was a little creepy, but it was executed fairly well.

Our Mornings by entanglednow on AO3. (2,155 words).

Tags: Morning After.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: That would be the sound of his brother having sex with an angel three rooms away.

Notes: This was fairly cute, but a bit short for my tastes.

And, for all the Sabriel fans who don’t ship Destiel:

Highway of Love (Or: How Sam Winchester Learned to Stop Worrying and Relax Already) by Jassy on AO3. (24,536 words).

Tags: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, The Trickster.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: AU. Sam noticed a few things weren't quite right after they killed the Trickster. After going back to check things out, his life will never be the same.

Notes: This was probably the first Sabriel fic I ever read, and honestly I just didn’t understand it. I mean, not complaining, because I’ve read Mystrade fics before and we all know they don’t even share a scene, but I was still confused. Then, I read a really nicely done thing on Instagram explaining it, and I kind of got it. So I read this, and I really enjoyed it, and now I ship Sabriel. 

So, they may be this fandom’s crack ship, but I hope you enjoyed this edition of Destiel + other ships. I’m thinking that I might do a Saileen one in the future, because she may have only been in one episode I have watched but oh boy she was an icon, and it’s good for my heart to ship things that actually happen (I think. No one tell me otherwise. I will cry).

[maxdark158]

Daminette Soulmate AU

Okay so when I talked about this with @chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay @mindfulmagics and @2sunchild2 yesterday we went through a scenario where Marinette went to Gotham so I thought WELL WHAT ABOUT THE OTHER WAY AROUND which was mostly inspired by @let-me-perish ‘s Alternate Beginnings au

I am NOT writing more of this, but anyone else is open to continuing it for me in whatever way they want! Make it a collab!

@realrandomposts @ozmav

Enjoy

oooOOOooo

Soulmates are a thing in this world! Damian isn’t sure why that has to be a stated fact, but they are real. The majority of people have soulmates and that is as much of a fact as is the fact that he doesn’t have one.

Well, Grayson says not to lose hope but Damian doesn’t think he’s missing out on anything anyway. He doesn’t care that he doesn’t have some random stranger’s name on his body Grayson does, and he couldn’t understand it until he met the Tamaranean himself, he is not colorblind Todd is, but he hates it writing on his skin bears no results Drake is always writing on his skin, he and his soulmate good friends despite never meeting, he has no marks that will light up when he and a soulmate would first touch Father’s was on his chest somewhere and it lit up before Damian knew of him, he sometimes wonders who else shares it and he doesn’t feel any pain belonging to another person he and his father had been battling Poison Ivy when her soulbond was revealed by a bloody nose neither of them gave her, though he noticed how her and Harley’s injuries always matched the other after that.

Given that the only other soulbond is incredibly rare, Damian feels safe to assume that he simply does not have one. After all, hearing the thoughts of his soulmate would be a headache – both literally and metaphorically.

oooOOOooo

His class was on a trip to France. Paris, France to be more specific. A plagued with supervillains, much like Gotham. Of course, the mayor made sure to remind everyone that the villains were harmless – he likely didn’t want tourists to stop going.

Which is what, Damian realized, he and his classmates were. Tourists.

Well, sort of. They were actually part of an exchange program that all students who spoke French got to participate in. For one month, they would go to the highest-ranking high school in the area – the same one the Mayor’s daughter went to. Then they’d return to Gotham and write essays in French, and depending on the score they could opt out of finals for any other language classes they took.

Damian didn’t really care for the skipping finals part, and was originally planning to sit it out the trip. But Father insisted he go. Something about living life. And monitoring the situation in Paris to see if it needed any intervention. But living life too. For a month.

They had recently landed in the city of love ugh, gross and he and his classmates were at the hotel now. It was the mayor’s hotel, a lavish one at that. Well, appearing to be lavish, but Damian knew enough to know what was a good knock off and what was real when it came to expensive things. He’s a Wayne after all.

“We get our own rooms?” His classmate Charlette “Scar” Gamble sounded surprised. Damian was too. Their trip may only have fourteen students but even he expected to share rooms.

“Well we have three young men and eleven young women on this trip, and we wouldn’t be able to evenly have roommates, so single-use rooms were the best option.”

Damian saw Scar’s shoulders relax. He was glad their school was open to her situation and didn’t make her share with one of the boys. They weren’t friends exactly, but he didn’t hate her company.

Suddenly, a white-hot and burning pain hit him. He grabbed his head, lips pressed tightly together so he didn’t scream. All he could hear was ringing, high pitched like when someone dropped a microphone on full volume. His vision was spotty.

Oh kwami, that hurt. Ugh. I need to focus on this akuma!

What the hell was going on? Why was there a voice in his head? And why was it French?

Focus on the akuma! It’s probably doing this to you, it’ll go away as soon as you’re done, then you can finish your homewor-

Whatever just happened, it fizzled out. Damian blinked, the pain was gone just as quickly as it had arrived.

“Damian?” He looked up to see Scar holding him by the shoulders. “You okay?”

It struck him suddenly when his frie- acquaintance was shaking him down for an answer. The girl he heard in his head – those were thoughts.

He was part of the 3% that had a thought sharing soulmate.

oooOOOooo

“So are you going to lie to me like you lied to Miss Olivander?” Scar and Damian were sitting in the lobby, away from the mess of excited classmates that had taken over their section of rooms.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Damian replied, trying not to sound too stiff. He was on google, searching for everything he could about thought sharing soulmates. Apparently, there was always a distance limit, usually around 20 feet.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Scar roll hers. “You’re my friend Damian. You can tell me! Though if you want me to butt out, say the word and I will.”

Damian turned to her. “Friend? I didn’t know we were friends.”

He panicked for a moment, worried he upset Scar but she just scoffed. “You’re the first person I told that I was a girl and you think we aren’t friends?”

“I thought it was just because I can keep secrets,” Damian grumbled back. So he’s a little socially inept, sue him!

“We eat lunch together often.”

“I thought it was because the asshats wouldn’t mess with you when you sat with me!”

“You helped me dye my hair and found hair dye that matched the trans and lesbian flag.”

Damian paused. “Okay so I probably should have connected the dots.”

“Yeah,” Scar was grinning. “You should have.”

Damian rolled his eyes.

“That doesn’t answer my question though,” Scar poked him in the shoulder. “What happened to you? Everyone was super freaked out.”

He pursed his lips. “My soulmate connection formed.”

Scar’s mouth dropped open. “Really? You have a thought share connection? I thought you didn’t have a soulmate!”

“I thought so too,” he replied dryly. “But it appears I was wrong.”

“Your soulmate is in Paris,” Scar giggled. “Literally the city of love!”

Damian made a face at that, and Scarlett laughed more.

oooOOOooo

Damian didn’t tell his father about his soulmate connection, resolving to figure it out on his own or leaving it alone. He didn’t want to have attachments like a soulmate connection to weighing him down, the thought scared him. But he couldn’t deny his curiosity.

If he heard her thoughts again, Damian would investigate.

Unfortunately, his fri- acqu- friend Scar declared that she wanted him to be happy and she would help him search for his mystery soulmate.

Damian was just glad she didn’t declare that in front of his other classmates.

Today they were heading to Lycee Francois Dupont. Seven of them would join one class, and seven of them would join the other. He and Scar both got Mlle Bustier.

When they arrived, Damian noticed that an Italian girl was outside the in the courtyard surrounded by her peers. She seemed to be crying about something, but Damian didn’t really care.

They went to the class early, the teacher settling them into their seats. There were a lot more than a typical French room, she explained, to accommodate all of them.

Damian was caring less and less as time went on.

Soon other students, this time ones who went to the school full-time, began to trickle in. A girl with curly red hair was showing a boy with a red baseball cap a video on her phone. A small blonde girl and a tall dark-haired girl were talking quietly to a large boy and another small blonde girl. And the Italian girl from earlier was approaching them-

Wait why was she approaching them?

“Hello,” her voice sounded sickly sweet, and Damian pursed his lips, “I was wondering if any of you could tell me about my Damiboo? He leaves so much out of his letters to me and I know you go to school with him!”

He blinked. He opened his mouth to say something. Scar beat him to it.

“What do you mean, Damiboo?” She asked.

“Oh, did he not tell you?” she put a hand to her mouth in surprise. “My name is Lila Rossi. Damian Wayne is my soulmate! His name is along my spine and mine on his thigh.”

Scarlett narrowed her eyes. “Bull.”

Rossi blinked. “Wh-what?”

“Bull,” Damian repeated. “Don’t you know? Damian Wayne doesn’t have a soulmate. He’s said so in many interviews.”

The girl did a dramatic sigh. “He must be lying to protect my identity! I can understand, but it still hurts.” She looked at them, the fakest of fake tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I just wanted to know how my darling is doing.”

“You should be sorry,” Scar bit out.

The girl seemed shocked that her tearful act didn’t work. Before she could attempt to further guilt trip them, Mlle Bustier asked them all to go to their seats for roll call.

“She’s a liar,” Scar hissed once Rossi was out of earshot.

“No kidding,” Damian grumbled. “She attempted to lie about me but didn’t even recognize me?”

“Stupid, truly, she is,” Scar snickered.

“It appears Marinette is late again,” Mlle. Bustier sighed.

The French class seemed to mumble among themselves. The things they said were all derogatory and rude. Damian wondered why an entire class was ganged up on a single student.

It was then that Damian felt... Something. It was like a warmness in his head without any physical heat. It was… odd, to say the least. But at least there was no pain this time.

-late I’m late I’m so late! Ugh, I should have just not done some homework and slept more, I’m so-

Late?

Yeah! Wait who are you?

I could ask you the same question, person in my head

YOU’RE in MY head tho- wait are you my soulmate?

It would appear so. You’re still late.

AAAAAAH I’M LATE

Damian winced at the yelling, which made Scar turn to him. She saw him rubbing his temple, the slight squint, and grinned.

“Is it your soulmate?” she whispered.

Suddenly the door burst open, a girl with blue pigtails and bluer eyes having run through it, though she didn’t seem out of breath.

“Sorry I’m late Mlle!” She exclaimed.

She’s going to hate me if she already doesn’t like the rest of them hate me.

Why do they hate you?

Not important. How are you still within six meters of me?

20 feet

Shut up American- wait you’re American

“Marinette,” Mlle Bustier sighed. “In case you haven’t paid attention in my class,” giggled erupted from the French students.

As usual, they all hate me

I’m not laughing

Wait you’re seeing this? Ugh that’s worse

“In case you haven’t paid attention in my class,” Mlle Bustier repeated herself. “Students from Gotham Academy are spending a month at this school as an exchange program. Please take your seat.”

So I guess you’re one of the Gotham students?

Yes. I assume you’re the late girl, Marinette?

Gee, how’d you figure that out. But seriously I can tell you’re a guy from your voice and they’re only two guys in here that are American-

“Is your soulmate the cutie with pigtails?” Scar asked. “Because if not, dibs.”

Wait no you can’t call dibs on my soulmate

Who’s calling dibs on me?

Nothing. Stop listening.

No, you.

“You can’t,” he mumbled, and Scar lit up.

“I am going to be the best wing woman on this planet and possibly other ones too!” Scar said just a bit too loudly.

Wait no too loud Scarlett!

So I’m guessing that’s you then?

He looked at Marinette, who met his eyes. She smirked.

Found you.

[imagine-loki]

Soulbonds and Fairy Dust

TITLE: Soulbonds and Fairy Dust (rewrite) CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 18/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine one of the fae has been helping the Avengers, jumping in to help them on missions and vanishing before Shield can bring her in.  Loki joins the team and convinces her to come talk to the team and consider joining before Shield takes more drastic measures. RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS:  This is a rewrite of the original work of the same name.  Also on AO3 here

The entire court had to stand when Odin and Frigga entered the hall.  Thor had to rush to stand by his seat next to Odin’s, since he wasn’t in the right spot.  Oaf.  The king and queen made their way to the head table and Frigga kissed Loki’s cheek as she moved to take her own seat next to him.

Odin remained standing for a moment and it was he who made things worse on Sig’s nerves. “It is my honor to announce that Lady Sigyn Freyadotir, duchess of Asgard, Goddess of Fidelity has been found and returned to us after so many centuries. Not only that but she and my son Loki have become soulbound,” he announced, sounding proud of both of these occurrences.  Loki was surprised that Odin sounded proud about him, though he kept his expression carefully neutral.  He didn’t want the court to see that he was wary of Odin’s response.  He kept his expression calm, especially since Sigyn was digging her nails into Loki’s hand and had been since Odin spoke her full name with her titles. Loki covered her hand with his, trying to ease her nerves and fear.  He sensed her emotions and didn’t like them.

Names had power.  Sigyn knew that better than most.  And Odin had just announced hers for the entire court. Announced who and what she was like it was nothing.

And it scared the absolute shit out of her.

Odin finally sat and dinner was served. “Sorry,” Sig murmured to Loki when she saw nail marks in his hand while they were being served.  She used a drop of power to heal the marks she’d left.

Loki gave her a reassuring smile, gentle and loving and not at all like the dark prince that the court thought him to be. “Don’t worry about it, darling,”

“I wish he hadn’t done that,” she said softly, still on edge from having her name announced like that.  She was in the habit of hiding her truename.  “Also where in the nine realms did ‘Goddess of Fidelity’ come from?” she asked in shock, finally getting to that part of the problem.  She’d never had that title before she was taken.

“It was what you were supposed to be the goddess of before you were taken by the fae,” Loki explained.

“I don’t think I ever knew that…” she replied softly.  She couldn’t remember knowing that before and that didn’t seem like something she’d forget or make herself forget.

“I didn’t officially receive my godhead until I was around 500, but mother knew what I would be since I was a child.  I imagine it was the same for you.” Loki told her.

Sig considered that and nodded. “But you’re a prince. Of course, you’d receive a godhead at some point. I’m not royalty,” she reminded him quite logically in her opinion.

He chuckled.  “Darling, you are my best friend and have been since we were children.  You’re close to my mother and a noble of Asgard. All nobles receive a godhead,” he reminded her.  Clearly she’d forgotten.

Sig closed her eyes and seemed to have remembered something when she opened them again. “Mama was goddess of beauty,” she said softly as she remembered that tidbit.  Loki gave her a small sad smile and wrapped an arm around her reassuringly.  She gave him a small smile in return.  “I think the court is about to blow a gasket over the dark prince touching a lady,” she teased him to lighten the mood again.

He chuckled warmly and it was nice to hear the old familiar sound of his laughter again. “Like I care. They can think of me however they wish. It doesn’t faze me,”

“Sure it doesn’t, peacock,” she teased him warmly.

Frigga turned to her son during dinner.  “Have you been enjoying showing her lady around the palace?” she asked him kindly. 

“I actually haven’t had a chance to yet,” he admitted a bit sheepishly. “Though, on that note, there is something we wish to speak to you about after dinner. Without Father,” he added quickly, too vehemently.

Too quickly.

Frigga raised an eyebrow, but didn’t seem concerned about the request.  “Of course, darling,” she replied just as warmly and kindly as she always was. She gave him a conspiratorial smile.  “After dinner or after you have a dance with your lady?”

He chuckled. “You read my mind, Mother,” he said warmly

She laughed.  “I know you well, my darling,” she replied, then glanced at the morons’ table, where the morons were looking particularly hungover and subdued.  “Do you know what happened to Thor’s friends? They’re remarkably quiet tonight…”

Sig and Loki shared an amused look. “That is a long story, Mother,” Loki replied, since he didn’t really want to go into it right now. Especially if it could possibly get them in trouble.  Sig looked a bit sheepish since Thor wasn’t pleased with her for that trick on his friends. 

Frigga gave them both a knowing smile.  “And some things never change…” she said, clearly amused by their antics, especially since they hadn’t really hurt anything.

Loki chuckled.  “You know you love how mischievous I am,” he told her, giving her a boyish grin.  He was never so open with anyone else in the court other than his mother and Sigyn.

“It does tend to cause excitement around here. The palace is dreadfully dull without you. And mischief that leads to those three being quiet is definitely appreciated,”

Loki kissed her cheek. “It is dreadfully dull on Midgard without you as well, Mother. It is always good to come home just to spend time with you. And I’m happy to bring a little excitement back with me,” he added with a mischievous smirk.

“You shall have to enlighten me on how you subdued them though. It seems like a useful skill,” Frigga mused.  The morons were usually quite loud and obnoxious.  Their only redeeming quality was that they were skilled warriors.

“Let’s just say my soulbond has many tricks up her sleeves,”

“I expect no less of one who is worthy of your affections, my darling,” Frigga told him warmly before turning to Sig to try to goad she into speaking.  They’d both noticed that Sigyn had gotten shy with all the attention.

/What has you so tight-lipped, darling?/ Loki asked when he noticed how shy Sigyn had gotten.

/I… I’m just not used to positive attention anymore… especially from those in power…/ she tried to explain, though she doubted her explanation would be coherent to anyone besides herself.

/I’m sorry to hear that/ Sigyn heard understanding in his tone.  /But remember, you belong here. You have nothing to fear from my family. Besides the Allfather, the rest of us have nothing to hide from you/

/I know. It’s just hard. And they’re still expecting the little girl they knew. Also not calling her ‘mama Frigga’ anymore is hard~/ she whined the last, but she opened up more to Frigga when the subject changed from her past to safer subjects like general magic studies.  And Loki.

/My Mother would probably love to hear you call her Mama Frigga. I know she misses being called that. And I’m sure she realizes that you are not the same girl you once were. My mother is not naive/

/Probably is not enough when propriety and the royal family are involved/ she reminded him, noting that Frigga seemed happy that she was willing to talk about something, even if it wasn’t herself.  And Frigga was having a touch too much fun telling stories of younger Loki and Thor to make Sig laugh. 

Loki was getting more and more embarrassed by all of the stories and turning more and more purple in embarrassment.  “Mother, please~” he whined at a particularly embarrassing old story.  Frigga laughed and Loki’s whining and switched to a story of one of his accomplishments instead.

/She refuses to answer questions about herself more than what magic she’s studied. I had to get her talking about something/ Frigga explained to Loki telepathically.  Her cadence in the story she was telling didn’t change, so no one had any idea she and Loki were speaking.  It was a skill they’d perfected years ago.

/She’s still adjusting to being shown any form of affection. Life in underhill was not easy for her/

/I wish we knew what happened there. We might be able to figure out how to best help her/ Frigga replied.  She then, politely, to Loki at least, changed the topic of conversation to the differences between fae and Asgardian magic which is something Sig could lecture them on at length.

/I do as well. I’m sure she will tell me eventually but I do not plan to force it out of her./

/Wise decision, darling/

Dinner finally ended after a delicious dessert and Odin left the second it was over, claiming work to do. As soon as he was gone, Loki stood and held out his hand to Sigyn.  “Sigyn would you honor me with the first dance?” he asked her formally.

She looked up at him and gave him a warm, bright, smile as she placed her hand lightly in his, getting carefully to her feet.  “The honor would be mine, my prince,” she saw how much he lit up every time she called him that. 

He smiled brightly and led her straight out to the middle of the dance floor.  The pair drew the attention of the entire court because of who they were.  Her exotic looks and the soulbond marks didn’t help matters any, nor did Loki being one of the princes.  The music started and Sig took her position automatically, clearly knowing what she was doing.  She’d danced in the fae courts for centuries.  Loki took his position with her and the dance began.  They were both wonderfully graceful and a sight to behold, gliding effortlessly across the dance floor. They both appeared to be floating across the dance floor and their eyes were lit up in joy.  Sigyn didn’t notice when she started to literally shine with joy as she danced. 

They danced together for a long while before the spell of the music and memories broke around them and at nearly the same time they both remembered that they had to talk with Frigga about the fae doorways. 

Neither wanted the night to end, but duty called.

[discopiratetanis]

The words you want to hear [geraskier week 2020 | Soulmates]

TITLE: The words you want to hear | Read on AO3

AUTHOR: ficsfordummies | TanisVs

PROMPT DAY #: 1. Soulmates

SUMMARY: “They will say those words to you, my dear. Your soulmark is what you most want someone to say to you. It represents how much your soulmate loves you and cares about you. That's why only you can see your soulmark until they say it, if anyone could see them, they could trick you into thinking it's your soulmate when it's not. They are words that must be born from the heart, do you understand?”

WORD COUNT: 4795

BOOKS/NETFLIX/2002 SHOW/VIDEO GAME: Mostly Netflix.

TRIGGERS/WARNINGS: N/A (Well, there are a lot of headcanons)

RATING: M for future chapters.

ADDITIONAL NOTES: Written for @geraskierweek​ No beta. So here we are! This is my little contribution to the lovely and beautiful Geraskier Week 2020 initiative. It will be my only work for it, a three-chapter fic with the first prompt (soulmates) topic as its core, I hope you like it ❤️❤️❤️

I don't care about your songs if you're dead

Jaskier had read those words over and over throughout his childhood. The phrase was written with rough thick strokes, as if someone had carved the letters into his tender and delicate skin of his left forearm when he was a baby. And the ink. The words were made of dense, deep black ink, but in the light of the fire, candles or the sun itself, it sparkled with gold and grey if Jaskier turned or moved his wrist, like the scales of an iridescent fish. 

“Those are all markers of your soulmate, Julian, it represents them,” His mother had told him when Jaskier had described the appearance of his soulmark when he was five.

“How will I know who my soulmate is, mother?” Jaskier had asked then.

His mother had smiled at him, softly.

“They will say those words to you, my dear. Your soulmark is what you most want someone to say to you. It represents how much your soulmate loves you and cares about you. That's why only you can see your soulmark until they say it, if anyone could see them, they could trick you into thinking it's your soulmate when it's not. They are words that must be born from the heart, do you understand?”

Jaskier had wrinkled his little nose at that time.

“Yes, mother,”

“And remember,” she had said too. “Soulmates are persons meant to be together, yes, but you can’t or should force a soulbond. If someone will be meant to be with you, you have to build a strong relationship,”

“I… understand,”

“You’ll meet a lot of people in the future, my dear, don’t worry about that now,”

“Yes, mother,”

And Jaskier had not worried much about the subject until he turned fourteen and his father began to pressure him to study more seriously. He was the son, the only son, of a viscount, and they might not be of the highest nobility, but the family had status and his parents expected Jaskier to be even more literate than many of the sons and daughters of the high nobility. For that reason, Jaskier went to Oxenfurt, and though he was too young to attend higher education classes, Jaskier took the opportunity to start to take the first step to find his soulmate. 

He knew that if his soulmark spoke about songs, then he must study something that would lead him to write poetry and music. So he chose the faculty of Trouvereship and Poetry, to his father's disgust and his mother's resignation. He studied there for three years, arduously, tirelessly, determined to be the best. And yes, he was the best of his class, and of his promotion in all faculties. His teachers told him that he would write peerless poetry, that his music would be remembered forever. He believed them. Jaskier graduated with honors, and hit the road with seventeen, still too young, too innocent and kind.

Then he came face to face with reality.

Outdoors of Oxenfurt nobody liked his music o his poetry, and far away from his family and their commodities, Jaskier suffered hardship. He went hungry, cold and sometimes he had to make dubious deals to avoid dying. Many times he thought about returning to the nobleman's life, but then he would roll up his left shirt sleeve, would look at the words, those crude but precious black words that sparkled with amber and gold under the light, would take a deep breath and would keep going.

For whoever that had to be his soulmate.

Then he met Geralt of Rivia, the infamous Butcher of Blaviken whose stories he had heard since he was a child, and decided that the witcher was the best inspiration he would probably find in his life. So he followed Geralt everywhere, without realizing he had taken the second step to find his soulmate. 

* * *

It had been half a year since they last saw each other. Jaskier had become more confident, but only because his new growing fame made him more secure and have more coins in his pouch. He had to thank Geralt, of course. People loved stories about witchers who, although they might seem like men of terrible behavior without morals and without principles, in the end had a heart, saved people and cared for the weak. Geralt had once told him that all that was stupid, but Jaskier had ignored him.

The truth didn’t lead to greatness.

“So, what if I invite you to ale in the next village tavern? You are going there, right? You could tell me about your latest adventures,”

“Hm,”

“Ah, yes, that one was very interesting and funny,”

Geralt was walking, guiding Roach by the bridle, with his heavy cloak waving softly behind him. Jaskier had one much more fancy and lighter that it didn’t hide his rapier and back-daggers at all, with his elven lute hanging from his shoulder. His pace was prideful, lordly.

“So, I heard of your affair with the striga in Temeria,” Jaskier said, much more serious, less cheerful, and looked at Geralt with curious. 

He had grown a few inches in the time that they hadn't seen each other, but Geralt was still much taller than him. Geralt said anything, not even a grunt, and the road remained silent, a silence only broken by the happy chirping of the spring birds. Jaskier saw the grim gesture Geralt made at the mention of the striga, and didn’t press. He walked beside him until they reached the town ahead.

Then, when the first villager noticed Geralt was a witcher, Jaskier went to the tavern alone.

It was the witcher’s life. He knew that.

“A selkiemore, uh?” Jaskier mumbled while writing in his journal.

The tavern was full of a crowd of townsfolk listening to the man who had contracted Geralt that morning. Jaskier had his belly full of warm food and a decent ale, so he felt with enough energy to try to write, or at least think, about his next great song. Toss a coin to your witcher it was good, very good, and people loved that song, but he didn’t want to become stagnant. He needed more successful songs. 

Songs. 

He slightly touched his left forearm, over the doublet sleeve. Then he remembered why he was there, in Cintra, and remembered the letter the chamberlain of Queen Calanthe had sent to him a month ago. It was a great honor to be the main bard in the court of such an important queen during her daughter's betrothal. But he knew that it was risky. Because in his obsessive spiral of finding his soulmate sooner rather than later, Jaskier had meddled in other people's marriages, even though they were not married to their true soulmates. And some of those people were nobles. And he knew that, at least, his beloved Countess of Stael was going to be in the ceremony. 

With her husband.

So he was fucked up.

A little.

Jaskier was thinking about that while he was writing the description of the monster according to the words of the fat farmer who had witnessed the fight between Geralt and the selkiemore. He smiled when the man said that Geralt was dead, because he didn't believe for a moment that the witcher was going to die in such an absurd way. So he laughed when Geralt entered the tavern, covered in blood, guts, and shit as if nothing had happened. It wasn’t the first time. He made the crowd sing Toss a coin to your witcher, knowing Geralt would groan, tired and disgusted. He collected a few coins. Geralt took a tankard of ale from a table and drank, spitting it half a second later. Jaskier snorted and leaned on the counter of the tavern.

Then he took a deep breath, and when Geralt approached him, he said:

“I need a favor,”

Geralt looked at him, silent, serious, and saw the apprehensive face Jaskier was making without realizing it. So the witcher tilted his head a little while viscous droplets of blood dripped to the floor.

“Tell me,” 

* * *

“Wow, what a night, right?”

Jaskier trotted behind Geralt, who was striding along the hallways as if the Destiny itself were to appear in the palace to grab him by the neck and force him to claim his Child of Surprise before he or she was even born.

“This is your fault,” Geralt snarled, ablaze with anger.

“What? My fault?” Jaskier protested, irritated and incredulous. “Excuse me, but I’m not the one who chose the Law of Surprise as payment here, you know,”

Geralt stopped dead suddenly, break-breathing, still furious, with a remarkable frown carved in his forehead. Jaskier sighed, facing him, his lute hanging from his shoulder like always, and didn’t flinch when Geralt glared at him with amber fire.

“If you hadn’t brought me here, I wouldn’t–” Geralt whispered, still wrathful.

Jaskier pressed his lips in a thin line, feeling a hot and unpleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach.

“Don’t you dare to blame me for what had you done, Geralt, you heard me?” Jaskier mumbled back, not with the same anger but with determination. Geralt huffed, looking away from him. “You could have asked for money, for lands, for anything other than that, but you preferred the Law of Surprise,”

“I know,” Geralt growled again.

Jaskier let out a deep breath, an exhausted and long sigh. They were in the middle of an empty and lonely corridor, with the rumor of the music at the party fluttering even there. Geralt sat on a nearby stone bench. Jaskier sat beside him, thinking.

“You knew it?” he asked after a minute in silence, with Geralt staring intensely at the floor.

The witcher shrugged a little before straightening and leaning on the wall with a grunt.

“Of course not,” he mumbled, calmer. “How could I have known it?”

He sounded resigned. Jaskier threw him a sympathetic glance and felt guilty anyway. He had been a little selfish because, of course, he could have defended himself against aggrieved husbands and wives, but… He wanted to go with Geralt to the party. Maybe it was really his fault. 

Maybe.

“Well, think about it,” he said. “If I hadn’t brought you with me, Calanthe would have killed that man, you saved a life tonight,"

"You would have done the same, I saw you fighting before,"

Jaskier parted lips, feeling his cheeks burning.

"Oh, yes, but I'm good at duels or like… two against one, even three against one, but an entire squad of soldiers? Thank you, but no," he saw Geralt smiling from the corner of his eye. Jaskier swallowed. "So as I was saying, you saved a life tonight, and saved Pavetta from soulrotting."

Soulrotting. He could recall when his mother had told him about that concept. He was eight at that time, and one of his mother's maids had lost her husband, her soulmate, in battle. Jaskier remembered that day. The scream of agony had heard everywhere in the Lettenhove fortress. 

"How do you know they are soulmates and not two simple lovers?" Geralt asked, slowly, looking at Jaskier.

Jaskier shrugged.

"I don't know for sure, but…" he hesitated, feeling his soulmark heavier than before. He touched his left sleeve and dragged his fingers a little over it. "If my mother would be about to kill my soulmate I would scream like that too,"

"That was magic,"

"You know what I mean," Then Jaskier looked at Geralt and met those golden eyes. Something inside him tingled. Geralt looked away a second later, with a grimace. Jaskier swallowed slightly, still caressing his sleeve. "You wouldn't do it?"

"Do what?"

"Defend your soulmate against everyone and everything?" 

There was a silence, a big and dense silence that Jaskier didn't understand and couldn't explain. He felt it heavy and… bitter. Geralt sighed, grunted. Again he sounded tired and resigned.

"I suppose, I don't know," Geralt murmured.

Jaskier blinked, confused.

"What do you mean you don't know?" he asked.

Another silence, thicker than before. Jaskier frowned, knowing that he shouldn't push him, but…

"Geralt?"

… but surprisingly, Geralt answered without snarling at him, his voice full of exhaustion.

"Witchers don't have soulmates, Jaskier, "

The third silence wasn't heavier than the previous two. It was strangely soft, although uncomfortable and somehow… painful, agonizing. Jaskier didn't know and knew at the same time why he felt as if someone had punched him in the guts, ripping all the air from his lungs. 

"Oh," he mumbled, and wet his lips, suddenly sad. "How do you… How do you know? You don't…?"

He knew it was a dumb question. But Geralt, again, answered with much more patient than Jaskier would expect.

"I don't have a soulmark, no. Witchers don't have words on his arms," Then Geralt got up, without looking at him. "Come on, let's get out of here,"

He started to walk, not so fast than before, towards the end of the corridor. Jaskier watched him for a second, still feeling… sad, and got up too to follow him. He sighed, clenching his left hand in a fist. 

* * *

Jaskier turned the rapier in his hand, elegant, keeping his balance. He stabbed the air and backed away, then he cut an imaginary opponent, spinning on his heels, chaining block, feint and attack movements again and again. When he stopped he was out of breath, sweating. Then he lowered his rapier and sheathed it with a loud sigh. 

Geralt, sitting against a tree near the edge of the clearing, discovered he was holding his breath until then. He thought, he noticed, he always noticed, how gorgeous, how stunning, was Jaskier when he trained, when he used his sword, when he was such concentrated and full of harsh and intense energy. It didn't have anything to do with the strength Jaskier detached when he sang or when he tricked someone with his silver-tongue. Geralt couldn't say what oh those attitudes he liked more.

"Geralt?" Jaskier's soft voice made him blink. He saw the bard smiling, cheeky. "See something you like?"

Geralt blinked again, watching him. Jaskier had his hair slightly wet, his forehead pearly with sweat, his cheeks rosy. He was on his too much tight trousers and on his shirt, only on his laced, cute and luxurious shirt that was mid-open, and Geralt could catch a glimpse of part of his pecs and, of course, his chest hair. He felt how his throat went dry in seconds, and looked away with a loud grunt.

Jaskier laughed and sat beside him, at his right against the tree. He had rolled up his sleeves so his left forearm brushed with Geralt's right arm. Geralt stared at the clearing, knowing that in that blank skin was a soulmark, the words that Jaskier wanted the most to hear from someone. 

Someone.

A claw gripped and tightened his heart and, somehow, his right forearm burned with an old and long lost memory.

* * *

Jaskier mumbled a curse, crossing out the last word he had written. Tiny drops of ink fell to the sheet, mottling the parchment of his not-yet-finished new song with a myriad of little black stars. He thought in silence with the feather under his chin. He lasted three seconds. Then he sighed and left the journal on the table, tired, upset. 

The tavern was empty except for the owner, Geralt and himself. It was early anyway, and neither of them expected to see anybody until noon.

The silence was weird. 

"What's wrong?" 

Jaskier looked up. Across the table, Geralt was watching him, with that frown that Jaskier knew meant the witcher was a little worried.

"Nothing," he mumbled, grabbing Geralt's tankard and taking a sip. When he saw Geralt arching an eyebrow, he groaned. "Nothing, really, don't worry," 

He took another sip, and that allowed the witcher to snatch the journal Jaskier had left on the table. He opened it on the last page. He made a grimace, confused at first, curious at second. Jaskier let out a new tired sigh and take a third sip of ale.

"I know," he said, sarcastically. "It's horrible, a complete disaster,"

"It's not," Geralt replied, absent.

"Geralt, I don't doubt that with age comes knowledge but I know you don't have any idea of music or poetry, so don't try to cheer me up with empty flattering,"

Geralt turned a page, ignoring him. The journal was full of lyrics, old and new, and sheet music, both finished and incomplete. Or at least that was what it looked like, Geralt wasn't sure. Jaskier was right, he didn't have any idea about music. But what he liked wasn't the music notes or the attempts and tests for rhymes. 

No. 

It was his handwriting.

It was fluid, thin, delicate. Like the course of a quiet but sometimes playful river. Its stroke was slightly bowed to the right because Jaskier was right-handed. There were words crossed out everywhere. Geralt thought it was pretty.

And that it was... familiar.

Familiar.

Suddenly he felt his inner right forearm itching, a not quite unpleasant sensation. Geralt rubbed that specific zone of his arm, above the sleeve of his shirt, and frowned, uncomfortable. Jaskier, locked in the ale tankard, didn't notice that. Geralt left the journal on the table with no words, and took a deep breath.

He knew where he had seen that type of handwriting before.

He knew very well.

* * *

"You can't come,"

"Don't be ridiculous, Geralt,"

"Oh, I am the one who is being ridiculous?"

Geralt secured the straps of his swords and checked out that he was wearing them tightly to his back. Beside him, Roach huffed a little uneasily, sniffing the air of tension between the witcher and the bard. Geralt searched in one of the mare's saddlebags and extracted a couple of bottles filled with a green and silver liquid. He put them in his pouch and turned around.

Jaskier was facing him, arms crossed, with a clearly indignant and annoyed frown. He had his rapier, his silver rapier, hanging on the left side of his hip, his daggers, his also silver daggers, on the right side. His lute was safe in their room, upstairs, inside the inn. Geralt thought Jaskier should be inside the inn too, safe, without wanting to go with him to do his job. Geralt huffed as Roach had done before, patted the mare on the neck and walked away past Jaskier, towards the location where the monster that he had to kill was supposed to be.

Jaskier followed him.

"You can't face an entire pack of drowners alone,"

"Ah, you know how to do my job better than me, it's that so, bard?" Geralt hissed. "Should I tell you how to write music now?"

He didn't want to sound mean. He didn't want to be mean. He knew Jaskier was worried, he could smell his fear. But...

"No, but I can help you, you know I can help you. At least with that type of monster. I have silver, and I am fast, faster than most of the men, you always say that,"

He always said that. It was true. Jaskier was a great warrior, and Geralt would trust him with his life, with his eyes closed. But not with that, not with monsters. Not with something that could rip off his flesh in a blink and eat him while he was still alive. 

He didn't want that. 

He couldn't live with that.

They were in the middle of the street, rain splashing furiously as if the gods were angry. There was water running everywhere, pouring from everywhere. The perfect scenery for a bunch of creatures that lived in the sewers.

"Come on, Geralt," Jaskier grabbed him by the arm, trying to stop him. Geralt didn't flinch and pushed the bard off, grunting. Jaskier groaned too, frustrated, and trotted until he surpassed the witcher and got in his way.

"Please, let me help you with this," Jaskier said. No, implored, begged, pleaded. Geralt caught the heavy and thick scent of fear, but it wasn't just fear. No. It was panic, pure and electric terror. Jaskier feared for him, but it wasn't the first time Geralt had to hunt monsters, leaving the bard behind. Geralt avoided Jaskier and he kept walking, faster. 

The rain raged and one lightning ignited the sky like a fierce and bright snake. Then, just then, Geralt felt again a hand grabbing his arm, and this time the witcher stopped.

The thunder rumbled violently and it was as if a dragon was roaring.

The clutch on his arm was strong. Geralt didn't look back, didn't look at Jaskier. He breathed in, deep, and sensed the fear more intense than before. Another lightning. Another thunder. Geralt tried to let go, but Jaskier tightened his hold. Geralt felt a growl being born in his chest. He could get rid of the grip easily, he was stronger, but he was also tired of those arguments. Jaskier should understand why he couldn't go with him. 

"Jaskier," he said, low, slowly. A warning.

"Geralt," Jaskier replied, arrogant, stubborn.

Geralt inhaled deeply for a third time, and noticed that fear was no longer the only smell there, under all the rain. But he couldn't recognize the new scent, not yet. It was bitter but also sweet. Geralt growled.

"You can't come, it's not negotiable,"

"Why?" More obstinacy. "It would not be the first time,"

 "Drowners aren't like bandits, or like a single monster I can make be focused on me," Geralt tightened his teeth, closed his eyes for a second, and then opened it still without facing Jaskier. "You could die," 

There was a two seconds silence, only broken by the violent storm. 

"So are you," Jaskier replied, and his voice was softer than before, weaker.

"It's my job, not yours"

And I don't want you to die, he should say, I want you to be safe here, where I could return to you later, he should say. He thought about the drowners, he thought about their claws and fangs, their viscous, horrendous skin and faces. He knew it wasn't the monster's fault, really, but… 

"Well, If we are talking about jobs–"

"Jaskier," Geralt growled, again, getting angry, angrier. He still didn't look back, at him.

"No, come on! If we are talking about jobs I have one, you know?"

"Jaskier, " The growl grew up.

"Remember? That one in which I sing and people throw me money?" Geralt stepped forward, only two steps. "You remember it, right?"

"You're wasting my time,"

"Because I have been neglecting my job only for you! Because you insist on not telling me anything of value for my songs, and–"

"Jaskier, "

"And! I thought, well, I understand, he is not good explaining shit, he doesn't want to talk, so if I watch how he fights and hunts monsters I suppose I can manage with that, but no! Also no! How do you want me to do my job, witcher?"

And then, the third lightning sparked in the sky, enormous, violent. And something in Jaskier voice made Geralt to burst. He faced the bard, finally, his amber eyes flaming with hurt fury.  

"Jaskier, I don't care about your songs if you're dead! Do you understand that or not?!"

The third thunder erupted immediately after and devoured the other sounds. It lasted at least four long seconds. Four long seconds in which they looked at each other under the dark rain with no words. Then, slowly, Jaskier loosened his grip. And Geralt noticed his expression. Jaskier looked down, frowning a little, his hands trembling, his lips pressed in a thin line. Geralt saw him swallowing, hard. A strong and powerful scent cracked around him.

But the bard said nothing.

So Geralt took that as an advantage and turned around to walk away. He didn't say anything either. He felt strangely tired, tensed. He didn't look back, he had a job to do.

 * * *

It took him four days to clean the sewers from drowners. Geralt emerged to the surface covered in green-black blood, murky water, and shit, so he seemed like one of the monsters he had killed down there, in the guts of the city. It wasn't the first time, and it wasn't the first time he had to come back to the inn covered in dirt like that.

When Geralt arrived into the room he shared with Jaskier, he found him leaning on the windowsill, reading something. At the sound of someone appearing, the bard looked up and turned around. He arched his eyebrows in surprise.

"Geralt!"

And in relief.

Jaskier moved toward the witcher with two steps and hugged him tight, exhaling a heavy breath and resting his forehead on his chest. Geralt went stiff, not because Jaskier was hugging him but–

"Jaskier, you are going to get dirt," Geralt sighed.

Jaskier squeezed him a little before releasing him and looked at Geralt with his bright and pretty blue eyes.

"I was worried," he mumbled. 

He had mud in his forehead, in his right cheek, and in the front of his fancy doublet. But he didn't seem angry. Geralt breathed in and caught the pale scent of flowers, ink, and wood that followed Jaskier everywhere, alongside something soft and sweet under all his own dirt. He grunted, weakly.

"Sorry, it took me longer than I would think, "

"Right, uh…"Jaskier hesitated, looking away, and headed to the door. "I will ask the innkeeper to prepare a bath for you,"

Geralt watched him go, knowing that their fight was not resolved. He sighed again, feeling exhausted, hungry. Then he glanced at the piece of parchment that was on the windowsill, forgotten, and he felt curiosity. It had been folded and unfolded many times, and it had a red wax seal that, when he examined it closely, he recognized it. 

It was the blazon of the Lettenhove. It was a letter. 

Geralt backed off and decided not to pry more. It was Jaskier's. And whether or not he wanted to tell him, it was none of his business.

He rubbed his right forearm unconsciously. That thought made him feel… more tired.

Gerald needed two rounds of hot water to get rid of all the shit he was covered with. With the third bath, he let himself get enough relaxed to lingering in the water doing nothing more than leaning against the edge and wall tub with his eyes closed. It was already night, so Jaskier had lit a few candles around the room. The bard hadn't talked much in that time except for two or three nervous jokes about the dirt water Geralt had been spraying everywhere when he was leaving his two previous baths.

Geralt knew Jaskier was ruminating something.

He didn't want to push him. 

But he also wanted… 

He opened his eyes, slowly, and saw that Jaskier was with his back turned to him. He counted five seconds, determined to talk about the discussion they had had four days ago, determined to be the one making the effort to fix things this time. He parted his lips, just about to say his name, to call him.

Then Jaskier turned around and faced Geralt, serious, but at the same time nervous. Geralt smelled something uncomfortable, something anxious and painful.

Something sad.

He shut his mouth.

Jaskier took a deep breath. He hadn't changed his clothing yet or cleaned his face. 

"Geralt, I…," he said, hesitating, licking his lips, avoiding his gaze. He exhaled, long, as if he didn't know how to say what he wanted to say. Then he bit his lower lip. Geralt stared at him, feeling on edge, vulnerable for the first time in a long time. "I want to ask you for something," Jaskier looked at Geralt, and Geralt nodded. 

Then Jaskier sighed one more long breath, biting his lips again, looking away, again, and crossed his arms, almost hugging himself as if he needed someone holding him, as If he needed a shield. 

"I…"

The bard frowned a little more, and Geralt saw that frown trembling. Jaskier clicked his tongue and, this time, locked eyes with the witcher. Geralt felt the intensity, determination, and… grief.

Grief.

He knew what Jaskier wanted to ask. He should have known in the first moment he had seen the letter with the Lettenhove emblem. He had no doubt.

"You want to hire me," Geralt said, low, soft, calm. "You want to make a contract,"

Jaskier parted his lips.

"Yes," he said.

And Geralt saw, saw, how just then Jaskier looked and walked away, out of the room, squeezing, clasping, his left forearm with tight and shaky fingers. 

[vanaera]

Daffodil Rings

Synopsis | In a world where the red-string-of-fate tale has been proven true by science, each scientific journal has been up to date with every new-found “soulmate system,” and everyone out there has been in their never-ending search for their soulmates, there stands one bug in the system: You. You don’t believe in the absoluteness of the soulmate phenomenon, nor the too-perfect-to-work-out soulmate systems, arguing each and every bit of them are for everyone but you. With 17 years of defiance against such natural occurrence, you did not expect you will be literally swept off your feet by your soulmate on some ordinary Thursday into the wildest night of your life. Everything only goes downhill when you learn that “soulmate” of yours happens to be Park Jimin, the singer from the worldwide famous boy group BTS, you have embarrassingly crushed on for six years.

Characters | idol!Jimin x law student, part-time florist!you (soulmate au proven by science; strangers to lovers trope)

Genres | Fluff, angst, implied smut

Wordcount | 22.3k (I’m sorry)

Playlist | I was Made for Loving You by Tori Kelly ft. Ed Sheeran

Cross posted on | AO3

A/N | Hi everyone! Friendly reminder that everything in this story is fictional and has no intended connection with actual individuals and groups involved in this story. I just felt the need to remind you all ;)  

                 You always loved arguing. Whether it be about politics, philosophy, human rights issues, science advances, or if pineapples really do belong in pizza (which you agree with) – the topic doesn’t matter because you found it always necessary to go against the current. For check and balance, you insist. You don’t want to admit that “hobby” of yours was almost pathological.

               You tell people it started from a time you were five and went around your neighborhood. Your mother told you to get outside your introverted shell and talk with the kids of your age. However, instead of striking friendships, you started arguments, arguing person after person on the littlest of things–from the notion that ocean sunfishes are the stupidest animals to exist, to the fallacy behind ‘blood is thicker than water’.  Unlike your mother’s expectations, you earned angry snarls and glares to the point she was almost bothered by the stinging stares of anyone who will pass by your house. “Almost” is the keyword, because as soon as local debates were announced in your community centers, you became the most sought-out consultant of every single contestant. Times now seemed short of instances people can prove what they’re ideas are worth. Anyway, your mother forbade you to enter the contest because you were too young to join at that time (“Goodness, you’re just five!”). And because Mrs. Thornbow, your third grade English teacher and adviser, was not impressed of your carefree negligence of school rules, especially regarding proper attires. You guessed your teacher warned your mother of letting you participate in debates in your notorious black slacks, the one you always wear in school instead of your red plaid skirt, in case you get too “out of hand” again in school.

               Unlike the story you told everyone, the real origin of your almost-sick hobby has to do with the red string of fate. The invisible, indestructible string created by fate which ties two people together, two soulmates, for the rest of their lives. Generations upon generations were expecting to be paired with a person made by the heavens just for them. Even more, most relationships, marriages, and families are the fruits of this system. Thus, it will be unnatural for anyone to go against such destiny.

                The soulmate phenomenon was an inexplicable truth and people explained such phenomenon through the myth of these red strings, until 1986 when Professor Vandikes and Doctor Weber discovered biological evidences of the soulmate phenomenon. The two found extraneous neural interconnections of two “soulmates” through neuroimaging. Vandikes and Weber discovered that thoughts can be transmitted back and forth between the soulmates because of their identically coordinated neural activities. Even more, the soulmates simultaneously produced similar accurate results even when they’re living in two different countries.

               As soon as Vandikes and Weber’s study hit the news, everyone was automatically convinced in this soulmate science. It even prompted researchers to investigate every single existing soulmate systems. No wonder everyone accepted the soulmate phenomenon as an unarguable truth, an unbreakable tradition, and even as absurd as a purpose in life. Of course, everyone except you.    

               You didn’t believe in fate dictating who you should love when you already have enough of the society telling you who you should be. Science has proven fate is capable of planning someone to be awfully compatible with you but, it does not ensure it will always work.  Your existence was enough of a proof.

               You do not have any existing soulmate system countl. There is no “soulname” on your wrist, a permanent, inborn tattoo of the name of your soulmate, the very soulmate system your mother and father has. You do not feel any kind of “soulbond,” the emotional transparency system between two soulmates, nor do you see any “soul-art” decorating your body, a system of identical, dull tattoos, which only turn vibrant at the touch of a soulmate. You already see the world in color since you were born, unlike your playmate Jung Seolhee. She said she has “soul-vision” as her soulmate system that’s why she sees the world in black and white until her soulmate comes and enters her field of vision. And, you most definitely do not have any thoughts, other than yours, rambling in your mind as you grow up unlike what Vandikes and Weber claim in the rare soulmate system, “soul connection��.

               In short, the soulmate phenomenon did not include you into their equation. Hence, at sixteen, you’re adamant about your disagreement with this red-string-of-fate bullshit–a sentiment you nurtured since you’re five–when everyone of your age has already set out to travel the world to find their soulmates. You decided you won’t base your life on what fate has dictated.  You will create your own path, your own life, and your own destiny. Cures for numerous illnesses have been discovered yet their effectivity for every single person are not identically applicable. The soulmate phenomenon excluded you and it most probably happened so because it’s not for you.

               You love arguing, most especially when it comes to the soulmate phenomenon. Your 17-year-defiance is enough of a solid proof and such experience warranted you enough skills not only to graduate college as the top of the class, but also to pursue law school. You just didn’t imagine your longest duration of arguing will not be against a competent lawyer inside the court, but against a stranger you met in a hole-in-the-wall bar, who unknowingly becomes your greatest misfortune of your night.

               It all started at ten o’clock, fifth of September 2019, in Marti’s Hub, a small bar you always frequent when you’re in need of intoxicating liquids. You never thought anything aberrant will happen as two hours prior, you were just mourning over the disappointing results of your Law 114 essay with some drinks with your bestfriend Lucy.

               “C’mon, Y/N, let’s dance! Stop being such a party pooper!” you feel Lucy’s insistent pull on the sleeve of your jacket and you glared at her before putting your drink down on the table.

               Actually, two hours prior to that dreadful ten o’clock, you were mulling over your Law 114 essay while Lucy is mulling about the probability of her soulmate appearing in the bar. And as much as you totally love arguing, there is only one exception to your uncontrollable hobby: you hate doing it with your bestfriend.

               Lucy Kim has been with you since you’re an intolerable ten-year-old in elementary and for the longest time your friendship lasted, it isn’t hard to tell the girl was a sensitive bunch. You remember her fat ugly tears in senior high when Peter Lee, the local asshole, told her her braids look dumb. Like every other friends, you’ve had fights here and there. Everytime you argued with her, you hated yourself a bit for making her feel bad and you feel much worse when you have to apologize and see her tear-streaked face. It’s ironic how you’re this soft for Lucy when you didn’t bat a damn eyelash at your mother whenever she complains you’re the frequent source of her headaches. In your defense, Lucy understood your anomalous hobby as your second nature far better than your mother could.

               However for tonight, you’re gonna cross the line and disregard the exception you reserved for your bestfriend.

               “Lucy, I told you I came here to drink. Not dance.” You picked the lime on the plate and took a bite.  Your fingers enclose firmly on your glass before your friend could attempt to take you away again. “Plus, I just agreed to tag you along because you told me you want to cry over your fruitless job hunt. I did not agree to accompany you to hunt for your soulmate tonight, which is what you’re doing right now.” You look pointedly at her.

               “Well,” Lucy drawls, rubbing her arm, “you can’t blame me. I’ve already searched our entire neighborhood, my hometown, and even my old university and still I can barely see any Michael Hudson coming my way.” Your eyes caught how she grazes her fingers on the soulname marked on her right wrist. You tried to sympathize with her but still-

               “That does not justify why you’re asking me to accompany you to the dance floor.”

               Your remark is returned with a scathing look from your friend. “Are you not listening to me? I told you I already searched the entire city! And you’ve always accompanied me in every single soulmate hunt! Plus, you didn’t have any qualms yesterday when you and I started to search in nightclubs. It won’t hurt for another try tonight.” You turn away, silent in the truth of what she said. Lucy huffs, “Also, a Michael Hudson sounds someone that usually goes to nightclubs.”

               “It does not,” you mutter, taking another swig from your drink.

               “Uh yeah?” Lucy’s frown deepens, eyes turning into slits as she glares at you like you’re an imbecile. Hypothetically, you are one based on your non-impressive streak in your law essays but that’s beside the incredulity of the things your bestfriend is spouting. Whether she understood the disinterest painted in your whole face or not, she continues on, “I already met lots of Michael’s yesterday and I just met two ‘bout 20 minutes ago. My Michael Hudson may actually be here.”

               You placed down your drink on the bar to stare at your friend. “Lucy, your argument is a false causation. Look,” you sigh, “a bar is not an ideal place to find true love. In this generation, it is more likely you’ll meet an asshole Michael in here instead of your prince charming Michael.” You grimace but you continue on, “Your Michael Hudson may be having some coffee right now in a sophisticated café while some ‘Michael’ here turns out to be a jerk who just wants to get into your pants. Why don’t we just go home, yeah? I’m already finished with my drink and I don’t want to drag your drunk ass back to your home again.”

               “Y/N, you don’t understand,” Lucy groans. “I feel he’s here right now. I can’t just go up and leave without trying. My guts are telling me to stay. It’s a soulmate thing!” You scrunch your face in a disgusted cringe. Lucy narrows her eyes. “See? You’re just saying these stuff because of your prejudice against the soulmate phenomenon.”

               “It’s not a prejudice. What I believe is true–”

               “Doesn’t matter. Look,” Lucy sighs, “If you want to go home, you can go. I’ll stay here and take my chances.” She doesn’t wait for your reply and turns around to head for the dance floor.

               A heavy rock settles on your chest. You don’t like arguing with your bestfriend especially when it comes to this soulmate thing where your views are in absolute disagreement with hers. You don’t like to come off as a bitter, unsupportive friend who ruins everyone’s mood with their cynicism. But sometimes, you can’t help but say a thing or two to wake Lucy up from her fantasies. After toxic relationships with already three Michael Hudsons in your university, you figured Lucy is annoyingly naïve for outright jumping in a relationship with anyone who has the same name as the words inked on her wrist.  You’ve already picked up broken piece after broken piece of herself from relationships after relationships, helping her stand on her feet again and again. You’ve always been by her side to not let her stay far too up in the clouds, balancing her happy-go-lucky spirit with your boring seriousness to help her grounded to reality. That’s why you can’t ignore the thorns pricking your chest when she dismisses your advice so easily as if she never learned anything from her hopeless romance just a week ago.

               You bite your lip and decide to have some soda. You’re not yet leaving but you most definitely won’t wait for her to go home with you. You just have to soften the heavy walls building on your chest so you won’t sleep tonight crying. You hate doing that.

               Another glass of soda and a plate of lime later, ten minutes have passed with just you indulging on a combo you know will be frowned upon by other bar patrons. Ten minutes of doing just that is also enough for you to notice the man in a navy button-down by your left was now a little too close to you. You saw him seated on the far left of the bar, about three feet from you prior to your argument with Lucy. He was ducked on the table, shoulders hunched, which guaranteed you no opportunity to assess his face before. Now, he’s by your side, elbow brushing against your jacket and back straightened enough to see a cringe-worthy smile he’s sending your way. You don’t manage to make out his whole face though because his disheveled brown locks were covering about half of his face. You take your focus back on your plate. Your grasp on your glass tightens. There’s no need to panic. Maybe the stranger transferred seats because your spot has closer proximity to the shelves where the bartender is situated. Maybe he’s sober and you’re just making this whole situation blow out of proportion in your head. Maybe–

               “Hi, doll. You seem tense. Wanna come over to my place to loosen up?” His breath against the shell of your ear makes the hair on your neck rise. Your shoulders stiffen and you gulp. You could feel a ghost of a hand looming on the exposed skin from your ripped jeans. Warning bells wail in your head.

               “I’m not interested,” you mutter between gritted teeth. You don’t look his way as you swat his hand away that was about to rest on your knee. You don’t want to make a scene when you’re about to finish your drink and leave this hole of a bar. You’ve had enough drama for the night already.

               However, the man seems to turn deaf because he smiles at you again. “Oh, don’t play hard to get now, doll. I know you want it. You’ve been staring at me earlier.” His alcohol-stained breath fans against your face and despite what you said earlier, he places his hand on your knee, grazes your clothed skin, and then gropes the swell of your thigh.

               Motherfucking hell–

               “Hey, man, can you please take your hands off my girl.”

               A voice from another stranger blares behind you and you freeze in your spot. What the fuck, now you have another gross man to deal with?! You grunt in annoyance and whipped your head to the side to finally yell the fuck out to these creeps. Social conventions be damned. You’re gonna make a scene.  However, the man behind you holds you on the curve of your shoulders, not too tight to hurt yet not loose enough for you to turn in your seat. You furrow your brows, bewildered. You lean away slightly to get a glimpse of this man’s face but it didn’t do much because his bleached blonde fringe is almost covering his eyes and a midnight black mask was pulled over the lower half of his face. Now you’re just terribly confused. Is he a wanted criminal to cover up almost majority of his face or is he severely ill with something much worse than the common cold? You don’t know whether to trust this man or be wary of him.

               “I don’t know man,” the drunk creep slurs, hand still poised too comfortably on your thigh. You wriggle in your seat but the man keeps his hold on you firm.  The stranger smirks at you, then to the stranger behind you. “From what I know, this girl is my chic. Go find your own, dickhead.”

               What the absolute fucking shit–You found your rage already growing the best of you and you swat his hand repeatedly but the man grips your thigh even tighter. You open your mouth to scream at the the drunk out of mixed pain, anger, and frustration–but the guy behind your back beats you to it again.

               “Look, man. Take your fucking hands off my girl before I call the cops. She’s my soulmate.”

               At the mention of ‘soulmate,’ the drunk man lets go of your thigh as if his hands were burned. He raises both arms to show he’s not touching any part of you anymore and before you could say something back at him–to redeem yourself and at least roast him into his next life–the guy behind you has already grabbed you by your shoulders, taking you in tow as he walks in fast, short steps towards the exit of the bar.

               The chilling wind of September slaps you in the face and even if you’re still shaken up from the whole deal earlier, you still have your brain on your head to make out the dark interior of the semi-vacant parking lot of the bar. Another set of warning bells blare inside your mind and you thrash your arms around, never caring who you’ll hit or if you’ll be hit, just to break free from the hold of the stranger. You’re not going to get kidnapped after being just indecently hitted on! The man instantly lets you go but it doesn’t put him in any good light for you not to turn around and raise an accusatory finger at him.

               “YOU! Just who do you think you are to hold and take me out here?! Who–”

               The man pulls down his black mask and immediately, words die in your throat.  It’s his drooped eyelids and warm brown eyes that hits you first, then it’s the small slope of his nose and the soft curves of his full, pink lips. Your eyes fleet toward the side of his face and goddamn, the long silver earrings dangling on his pierced ears were the same ones you were ogling at an online article you were reading yesterday.

               Your eyes widen and your jaw falls open in shock. “You-you-you’re–”

               Some random stranger was grabbing you by the shoulders earlier and now in front of you is fucking Park Jimin. Park Jimin, vocalist and dancer of BTS, the biggest boy band in the world who sang tracks upon tracks that earned the greatest number of music show awards in history. Park Jimin, member of BTS who performs in sold-out concerts in countless stadiums around the world. Park Jimin, the famed contemporary dancer from Busan, the beautiful man whose full lips and gentle eyes you’ve continuously written about in countless fanfictions since you started stanning BTS. Park Jimin, the person who may or maybe not have been your ultimate celebrity crush and the object of your both innocent and not-so-innocent fantasies for six years now. Goddamn, is he Park Jimin, the boy you straightaway took a liking to ever since you saw him in his cringe-worthy snapback and No More Dream black jersey ensemble in BTS’ 2013 debut music video.

               Your jaw twitches. “Oh my–Oh my God. You-you–”

               “Wait, don’t panic!” Jimin reaches for your trembling fingers and then you feel it–the explosion. Blinding silvery fireworks seem to go off behind your eyes as hot white combustions fill your chest  for a millisecond before their aftereffects register in a series of numbing kaleidoscope of feelings running hot and wild. Your body is tingling, your chest is burning, and searing pain is engraving its way down your arm from where the man touched you. You immediately pull up the sleeves of your jacket and there you see it–tens, no, hundreds of vibrant, yellow daffodils growing an inked garden in astounding speed from a bloom that has looped around your left ring finger. The blooms spread towards your elbow, creeping even further up to your chest where you can see a bud already peeking out on the skin exposed from your low-cut white tee. Your mouth remains open in shock. You clasp your right hand on your newly-tattooed left arm only for you to mumble a faint “oh my god” when you see your right hand–and right arm–also inked with the same yellow flowers.

               Still hunched over, your eyes fleet towards the stranger–towards Park Jimin, and it was only then you manage to let out audible words again. “You’re-you’re–”

               “–your soulmate.”

               “–Park, Jimin.”

               Jimin smiles, “Oh, you know me already. This wasn’t so hard as I thought.”

               You don’t register what he said, still caught up on the instant sleeves you are now sporting and the outlandish word the man in front of you spouted. “My soulmate,” you trail off, voice softening into a little above a whisper, “my–my soulmate. Oh my god.”

               Unaware of the war going on in your mind, Jimin chuckles. “Yeah, I’m your soulmate. I already know. You don’t have to repeat it again and again. It’s true–”

               “Out of all people, why you?!”

               Jimin’s face falls. “Why? What’s wrong with me?”

               “I–you–ugh!” you throw your hands up and cover your face in hopeless dismay.

               Jimin is more confused than he has ever been in his whole life. “Hey, what do you mean? What’s wrong with me?”

               Your eyes peek out from your hands and you see the distance Jimin has closed between the two of you as now his beautiful, perfect face is practically shoved in front of you. A gunfire inside your head resounds and you blow up. “You! What’s wrong is that you’re Park Jimin! Manggae of BTS who sing in sold out concerts in every goddamn country and the youngest recipients of the Order of the Cultural Merit from South Korea and are now the biggest boyvband in the world!” You huff out, breathless. And then you pale. Oh my god, did you just word-vomited–

               “I didn’t know you know me that well,” Jimin giggles. “That’s great! We’re off to a good start!”

               Confusion flickers in your eyes for only a second before it turns into aggravation. “Why is this not bothering you?! You’re an idol!”

               Jimin nods, “Yeah, I’m an idol. And I’m also your soulmate.” He takes a step toward you and you take one back. Seeing the apprehension in your tensed form, he doesn’t push further and instead opts to place his hands in the pockets of his ink black leather jacket. “Don’t you know why I came just in time before that drunk jerk even tried to further push his sick plan?”

               You don’t answer him, still shaken up from everything that’s suddenly happening.

               Jimin just smiles. “I felt you’re near and you’re distressed and anxious. Soulbond, as people say. I went with my gut feeling and I proved it true when I saw you at the bar with that man. It’s a soulmate thing. And oh, I also have this.” Jimin pulls up his sleeve and raises his left hand, flashing you his ring finger inked with a daffodil looped around it just as yours. His tattoo didn’t spread into a sleeve, hinted by the clear skin peeking from the seams of his leather jacket toward the rest of his hand. But still, his inked ring is undeniably a daffodil bloom just like yours. Jimin smirks, “I told you, I’m your soulmate.

               You could hear your heart pulsing loud against your ears and you could still feel your veins thrumming with the aftershocks of the explosions of stuff you don’t want to label anything that is already connected to the grinning boy in front of you. You open your mouth only for you to close it again. You cannot deny his statement when two full sleeves of tattooed flowers bloomed right in front both of your eyes. He’s your soulmate and that’s undeniable. However, a different chaos brews in your mind again when you remember that this man in front of you was very much the celebrity you have fawned over for the entire latter six years of your life. You must have weirded him out already when you blurted out the achievements of his group earlier. You cannot let yourself further creep him out by telling him you’ve always raved about him, dare even adored him way, way back then before this very night. Sure, you’ve never believed in this soulmate thing for 17 years of your life but it doesn’t mean you didn’t know about love nor experienced it. Your three ex-crushes under your belt and your six-long stable years of intense crushing on this boy in front of you (that even prompted you to write cheesy romance and dirty filth about him in your still-very-alive tumblr writing account) are enough to color your single-as-fuck-since-you-were-born life with enough joy and pain. But anyway, you can’t let him know everything about this. It’s too embarrassing. It will definitely make him run for the hills just like your three ex-crushes.

                You wouldn’t have to do all of this hassle in the first fucking place if Park Jimin is not your fucking soulmate. Goddamn it, you didn’t even imagine in your whole life you will actually fucking say that ridiculous “s” word.

               Frowning again, you storm off.

               Jimin laughs and joins you in your furious steps outside the parking lot.  

***

                Unlike your initial plan of running away, you didn’t know you will actually stay with Jimin into the night as he rambles about future date plans.

               Half past ten, the two of you are seated in Aunt Marie’s, a 24/7 retro-themed diner you frequent every finals week for late night dinners. Massive cheeseburgers are on your plates and Jimin is seated across you, sporting the mask you have seen on him earlier.

               You drop your utensils and sigh. “See? This won’t work. How the hell will we date if your face is always covered with that?”

               “I didn’t know you’re already thinking about dating me.” Jimin’s eyes sparkle as he sets his elbow on the table, cupping his face. “I’m liking this fast pace so far.”

               You didn’t know this man can easily evade your question by getting sidetracked like a pesky toddler. You purse your lips, unamused. “I’m not thinking about dating you. I’m just laying out a general probability for anyone who will date you. Don’t get ahead so fast, you don’t even know me.”

               “You know me.” Jimin shrugs. “At least that’s a headstart.” You glare at him and he laughs. Jimin continues, “We have lots of time to know each other. That’s why we’re here.”

               “Correction, we’re here because you told me you’re starving and this is the only near place I know that serves good food this late in the night.”

               “Which means we get to know each other,” Jimin repeats, smile turning into a grin. “I could have brought us to a place I know but you insisted going here, hence I learn tonight that you like eating at Aunt Marie’s.          Therefore, we are here to eat and also learn about each other. It is inevitable.” You sigh in defeat and Jimin smirks at his victory. “Also, I can eat, look.” He slices his burger, pulls down his mask and shoves a piece in his mouth, and then pulls up his mask on again. You can’t see his teasing smile but you could tell he’s already giggling because his cheeks grow rounder, making his eyes turn into crescent moons. Slicing another piece, Jimin says, “So, can I know more about you, Y/N?”

               Your mouth opens again like a blubbering fish. “Wait, how did you know my name? I haven’t told you my name yet.”

               For a second, you see his eyes widen but it passes like a blur when you find yourself starting to like the mischievous glint shining in his warm eyes. Jimin shrugs and answers, “It’s a soulmate thing.”

               You cringe and Jimin chortles. Okay, you take it back. You don’t like the mischievous glint if he does that while saying that ridiculous “s” word.  When his snickers die down, Jimin repeats his question, “So, can I now know more about you, Y/N?”

               You  dab your napkin on your lips and sigh for the nth time. “Well, everything about me is as plain as plain Jane can be. Name’s Y/N L/N, only child from a middle-class family. I had a quite nice childhood, playing here and there, making many…friends.” You can’t help but cringe at the word, quite unsure if you could ever tell your neighbors who consulted you during community debates were your friends. You want to make a good impression even if you weren’t still sold into this soulmate phenomenon. Unlike back then, you weren’t too fond of people seeing you less of what you are now. You pushed on, “Until middle school came and I learned how friendships work only if everyone gets to free-ride on projects and you carry the whole group.”

               Jimin snorts, “Who hurt you, Y/N?”

               “That asshole’s name is Kim Yeonjun. I still remember the cookie he stole from my lunchbox. Never gonna forgive him.” Your serious front breaks out into snickers and Jimin follows suit. “Anyway, I didn’t know my life will get more boring until high school came and our teachers taught us in detail about Vandikes and Weber’s soulmate science–”

               “Wait, this soulmate thing has a science behind it?” Jimin looks at you, eyes round.

               “Well, yeah,” you reply, brows scrunched. “Your teachers didn’t tell you about them? It was like the only thing any kid will actually remember from studying next to reading and writing.”

               “I don’t remember anything about such science. I studied in a performing arts school in Busan.”

               You look at him incredulous, “Impossible! It’s more likely you’ll know about the soulmate science before you even learn how to read. Parents already start the red string of fate bullshit as soon as their kid starts to speak gibberish. It’s impossible to leave out anyone from the soulmate science since everyone was raving about it–teens, adults, and even kids.”

               “Do you rave about it?”

               The furrows on your forehead deepen. “What? No!”

               “Well, that’s not everyone,” Jimin leans on his seat. “So, people like me who’ve never heard of such science are justified.”

               “Touché” you agree, “but that doesn’t mean you’ll get away without learning at least a two or thing about it because teachers start to teach soulmate science in basic sciences at the end of middle school.” You lean forward, eyes challenging his. “And everyone studies basic sciences in middle school. Heck, you even mentioned soulbond earlier. You’re just probably asleep when your teacher taught it in class.”

               “Okay, I surrender my fight,” Jimin mutters and you laugh.

               “So long story short, Vandikes and Weber first discovered  the biological proof of the soulmate phenomenon. They show how neural interconnections of two soulmates transmit info to each other at the same time even when they’re in two different countries. Which then means the soul connection and all other soulmate systems are scientifically accepted as a truth now than just some folklore.”

               “Wait, what’s the soul connection?”

               “It’s the soulmate system where two soulmates get to read or hear each other’s thoughts. It’s the phenomenon Vandikes and Weber witnessed while formulating their biological proof. Also, it’s rare. Only five couples were recorded to have that system. One of them was the participants of Vandikes and Weber’s study.”

               Jimin hums and you continue with your story, “Anyway, I was surrounded by screaming teenagers desperately looking for their soulmates and all that cringey stuff while I busy myself with studies because that’s the only thing I’m good at.”

               “And you’re busy loving pre-debut BTS.”

               You choke on your burger, eyes wide before you glare at him. How did he know? The guilt on your face must be evident because Jimin starts breaks into a laughing fit that other people (a couple of nightowl teens and couples) look at your way. In your defense, 2013 you didn’t know any better and just spent hours googling BTS and buying posters with each members’ faces on them (with always an extra poster of Jimin’s solo picture everytime you buy a bundle) instead of getting a social life. At least 2013 you were smart enough to realize you’re broke and you can’t afford to buy albums yet when you’re already struggling just to get your hands on required textbooks your teachers assign. You maintain your pointed look at him, refusing to admit to his very much true statement. You don’t want him to know even when the proof is right in your home–the posters you collected for three years, rolled up and still tucked in the corner of your closet. You never found it in yourself to dispose them even after every annual promise to throw them away.

               Jimin sniggers before he cues for you to continue on. “Sorry, it wasn’t funny.”

               “Anyway,” you stuff your face with the last piece of your burger and swallowed it, “I got high honors and got into my dream college. I realized next to studying, I was good at arguing–

               “–so true–”

               “–so I decided to go into law school.” You send Jimin another glare for his (very true) remark and he smiles. “So here I am now into my first year in law school, flunking every essay, and currently worth minimum wage.”

                 Jimin nods in interest, “Where do you work?”

               “Oh gee, I didn’t know you’re into asking occupations of your date like every other cliche dates.”

               You see Jimin’s eyes spark in interest and you regret what you just blurted out. “Oh, so you do see this as a date.”

               “Nooo,” you groan, heat already creeping up on your cheeks, almost like a wildfire. What the hell is happening to you? You always know how to control your word vomit; you’re never impulsive when it comes to speaking out. You’re a law student for Christ’s sake!

               “Don’t worry, I also see this as a date.” You could feel Jimin’s stare linger on your warm cheeks. You snug deeper into your jacket, wishing for the ground to break open and eat you up. Instead of further teasing you, Jimin repeats his question. “So, where do you work?”

               “At Petal Hill,” you mumble.  “It’s a flowershop two blocks away from my flat.”

               “Oh, a flowershop. Then, you must probably be knowledgeable of a lot of flowers.”

               “Yeah” you answer, a smile instantly tugging on your lips. “I get to recommend the best bouquets and sets to my customers, not to mention I have great grasp on the flower language to help them pick flowers they want to convey their messages through.”

               “Really?”

               “Yeah! I mean, I get to understand your confusing I Need You and Run music videos just with the two flowers used alone,” you blurt, thinking fondly of your Tumblr text-post, the only one that got you over 300 notes, where you wrote flower theories about BTS’ music videos. However, the moment you see Jimin gawking at what you said, it’s too late to undo what’s already let out in the open air.

               “Really? Oh my god, I never even knew the meaning behind those flowers. The directors just tell us to sit here, hold this or that, and do sad-emo-boi hours.”

               You stifle a giggle but it comes out unsuccessful when you break out into a huge grin, “You– what?”

               “Don’t get me wrong,” Jimin laughs, “We actually knew the plot of the music videos and internalized the characters assigned to us. But really, I never knew the flowers alone are a huge hint to the whole story.”

               “Well, my time to shine has finally arrived,” you grin, finding the need to stretch out your arms comically like how Tom does when he’s smug about catching Jerry. “The most iconic flower you guys used again and again is the white lily. Although the flower means rebirth, royalty, and purity with its delicate yet grand petals, they are often associated with funerals. White lilies symbolize the restored innocence the departed soul receives after death. That’s why the moment the music video flashes Seokjin’s character spreading six lily petals on the floor, I already knew either all your six characters or Seokjin’s, will die, before the video even reached to your guys’…sad-emo-boi hours.” Jimin nods in interest and you continue, “The Japanese version of the music video for I Need You was a large give-away since the large masses of flowers surrounding Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jungkook’s characters resemble like the clump of flowers thrown at a coffin being buried.” You gulp, “Anyway, going to the lighter side because I don’t want to dwell on such grim topics, the second flower you guys used that caught my eye was the blue rose.”

               “Oh yeah, that one!” Jimin eyes glimmer in recognition. “It was the only flower we used in the Run music video. What’s its meaning?”

               “Impossible love.” You said, lips forming a thin line. “Blue roses don’t occur in nature because roses do not have the specific gene to produce such color. Instead, they are made by placing blue dye into the bark of the roses’ roots. Since it’s impossible to produce blue roses naturally without artificial means, these roses mean impossible love. So when the video flashes the blue rose in the background of Yoongi and Jungkook’s characters fighting, it can be said their familial love for each other, as they were depicted like brothers in the videos, will be unable to mend the wreckage of their characters.”                

               “Wow, I didn’t know it’s possible to reach to such accurate perception with the flowers alone.”

               “Then are my theories true?” You lean forward.

               “Yeah, on Jungkook and Yoongi’s characters being brothers and their strained familial bond. Also with the connotation of the lilies, although,” Jimin leans forward, too, smirking, “I wouldn’t reveal to you who really died or didn’t in the music videos.”

               You scoff. “Wow, such torture. You’ve been keeping the fans in the shadows about the story far too long.”

               “Not my choice, blame Big Hit. The concept team just tells us anyway the plot when we have to shoot them so you can say I’m also in the dark” Jimin shrugs. “Also, I want to keep you on your toes, making theories and analyses. They interest me.  How did you easily connect the dots?”

               “I’m a part-time florist. And, I took English literature as my undergraduate study. The plot analyses and the story critiques we did really grew in me.”

               “Oh wow,” Jimin gasps, leaning back. “My god, I didn’t know you were so out of my league!”

               “What?” Out of his league? Is he fucking crazy? He’s the one across you who’s got millions of followers, followed everywhere by the media, known and loved in every country, not to mention, worth of millions of dollars. And you’re here, who’s got millions of bills to pay, followed by countless work and university deadlines, barely spared a glance from the people in your university and work, and you hate to mention again, worth minimum wage. Hell, you could tell Jimin’s face is glowingly beautiful even with his mask pulled on while you’re here, probably sporting a full oily face look. By all blatant circumstances, he’s the one who’s out of your league.

               At the sight of your frown, Jimin’s hands wave in front of you, trying to dismiss any misunderstanding. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I just–I didn’t know you’re such an intellectual. You read lots of books and do analyses and you’re so damn good in arguing. You always get me convinced. I haven’t done anything yet in our date but gawk and say ‘wow’ like a kid. I don’t…want to look stupid in front of you.”

               “You’re not.”

               “Huh?”

               You clear your throat. “You’re not stupid. And no, you didn’t just ‘gawk and say wow’ at me. You did a good job arguing with me earlier…about the ‘date.’ And that takes a lot because it looks like you’re having fun doing this friendly debate with me when people curse me for being so adamant in arguments.”

               “Why would they curse you? There’s nothing wrong in fighting for what you think is right.”

               You shrug, “They got nothing substantial to say so they resort to shaming you for what you know. Sick way of lifting yourself above others.  Anyway, why don’t you fire me some flower questions you have in mind? I’m in the mood to go all out in my flower-nerdiness today.”

               “Okay, so…what do you think is the best flower to give for your friends?”

               “Pink tulips are automatic to-gos. They mean ‘I care for you’ and also ‘good wishes’ so they’re also perfect for joyful gatherings. Pear blossoms also do the trick as they mean lasting friendship.” You glance upwards and hum before you return your eyes to Jimin, excitement thrumming in your nerves, “Oh, and Arborvitaes may not be popular but they’re the perfect flowers to give to a friend if you want to have ‘everlasting friendship.’”

               “Hmm, then what about the best one to give to your parents?”

               “Flowers of gratefulness are the top candidates. Campanulas, azaleas, and dark pink roses all mean gratitude and thankfulness.”

               “I’ll make sure to remember that next time I buy flowers for my mom,” Jimin smiles. “I always go for red roses every damn single time.”

               “It’s the classic. Can’t blame you though, it has the most generic message applicable to many kinds of relationships.”

               “Yeah, really?”

               “Yeah, they mean true love–True love for your friend, true love for your parent, or true love for your significant other. People usually use the connotation of “true love” for romantic relations when it’s actually applicable to familial bonds and friendships. After all, all of these relationships require truthfulness and love at the same time.”

               Jimin’s  mouth forms an o-shape. “Oh, I never really thought of that.”

               “Well now you know,” you grin.

               “Inked and stamped now, ma’am,” Jimin slaps his palm on his head and you giggle. At your laugh, Jimin smile grows bigger. “Okay, here’s another one: what flower is the best one to give to your mortal enemy?”

               “Are you insane? Who gives flowers to their mortal enemy?”

               Jimin shrugs. “Why not?”

               “Disregarding the money and time you’re wasting picking these flowers for such person,” you squint your eyes at him and Jimin laughs, “you should definitely go for foxgloves and orange lilies. They literally mean ‘Fuck you’ to the hardest core.”

               “‘Fuck you’ in what sense?” Jimin teases.

               You easily go along with it, mischief easily brewing inside your head. “They mean ‘fuck you’ as a curse, but if you mean the suggestive ‘fuck you’ then go for balsams. Though they may not be that arousing because they have these large, curving petals that look worn and limp, and you DON’T want to imply you’re like that flower.”

               Jimin guffaws, “Then why do they mean ‘fuck you’ if they’re not the least bit attractive?”

               “I don’t know, blame the Victorians who invented this floriography. Preferences change over time anyway so we can’t blame them for thinking balsams back then are ahhhsm.”

               You’re co-workers always found that joke dry and lame and yet in front of you, Jimin laughs as he holds his stomach, even finding the need for his other hand to slap the table again and again.  At this rate, he’s toning his abs from how hard he tries to keep his laughter not loud enough to disturb other customers. Despite the forming grin on your face, you found the need to say, “Okay, sorry that came out really, really suggestive.”

               “No, it’s okay,” Jimin assures. “I was the one who insinuated the suggestive themes anyway. I don’t mind at all.”

               “Me too,” you gulp. “It’s cool that we get to sit and chat like this without worrying about anything sexual.”

               “…Yeah, I agree,” Jimin tugs his shirt and clears his throat. “Anyway, what flower is the best one to give to your significant other? The most romantic one, the one that will instantly make your heart flutter?”

               “Well,” your fidget in your seat, “that depends on what the significant other likes. Flowers may hold different meanings but the preference for them still largely relies on the recipient.”

               “What do you like to receive?”

               You look at him, gaze questioning any ulterior intentions, any flirtatious comebacks he wants to blurt after possibly faking interest about such important topic. But when he tilts his head, waiting for your answer, you can’t help but blindly disregard your doubts and just answer his question. “I think pansies would be enough for me.”

               “Pansies?”

               “Yeah… They have these delicate, round petals and they’re resilient whether the sun beats too harsh on them or the winter almost freezes them to their roots. Whatever weather, whatever place they live in, they’ll always, always live. I guess that’s why they mean ‘You’re always in my mind.’ There’s nothing more infectious, more resilient, than any disease but a constant thought. That’s why I think being always in someone’s mind is a lot. To have a significant other that gets to see you, feel you, hear you, smell you, even taste you without them being aware of it is already akin to…love. You can’t control what passes through your mind, much less on what or who stays in it. But it doesn’t matter,” you laugh awkwardly, throat hurting in the process. “I’m not into receiving flowers. They’re over-the-top and they wilt and I just have to throw them away when they served all their worth.”

               “But what would you do if someone is willing to give you those pansies everyday, help you clean them away when they wilt, and assure you a new batch will make its way to you again?”

               “Then…I will accept it. Gifts are free and my labor will be lessened.”

               Jimin leans back, eyes shining. “I will make sure then to drop by in your shop and buy you a bouquet of those to make up for my lack of gifts for our date today.”

               You scoff at him. “You’re buying flowers right from my workplace to give to me? That’s not romantic.”

               “Wanna see me come over with a suit and tie, then?”

               “Oh my god, why are you like this?” you wail, palms covering your face. You’ve always adored Jimin’s unwavering determination in their reality shows, however, having him here in front of you showing you this stubbornness is something else. You don’t know whether to hit him or kiss him. Wait, what–

               “How about this then?” you feel Jimin’s fingers part your hands away from your face and a breath gets stuck in your throat. He has leant forward, mask pulled down to his jaw, and his eyes trained straight towards yours. You find yourself unable to tear your gaze away, too absorbed in Jimin’s intense stare. The thought that his vision is probably just filled with you and nothing else just like how your eyes only frame his entire face makes you queasy in your seat. You’ve never had someone look at you this, sincere and so open before that your long-time indignation to real-life romance and the whole soulmate thing has rendered you incapable of thinking what you should do–or if you should actually do anything than just get lost in another person’s eyes. You see Jimin’s lips pull into a soft curve of a smile. “Is this romantic enough?”

               Before you could choke on your own spit and indulge in awkward silence you know you’ll probably won’t get out of, a foreign voice by your side breaks your little bubble with Jimin. You glance to your left and a tall waiter bows. “Sorry to interrupt you, ma’am, sir, but would you like to order some dessert?”

               You look down at your plates to find everything in miniscule bits and crumbs, your meals completely finished. You sneak a peek at your wristwatch. It’s only 10:51, just mere twenty minutes have passed since you stepped onto the diner’s black and white tiles. You never imagined time could run so fast with another person invading your space than just your comfort zone.

               You see Jimin turn to the waiter. “Oh, no we’re finished. Can we ask for the bill?”

               Wait, you’re already finished? So soon? Your scrunched forehead must have gave out everything you’re thinking because Jimin turns to you and says, “I want to show you to some place. My turn to let you learn more about me.”

               Indifferent to the exchange between you two, the waiter hands Jimin the receipt. “Here it is, sir.”

               “Okay,” Jimin hands the payment on the waiter’s awaiting hands and you gape as you flounder for your own wallet. Jimin dismisses you. “I got this. You can pay me later.” He turns back to the waiter, “Thank you for the service.”

               “Thank you, too, sir.” The waiter returns and when you see him smile at Jimin again, his voice trails off and his eyes squint at the man across you. “Say, sir…you really look like Park Jimin from BTS.”

               “No.” Jimin’s smile drops into a frown and he quickly pulls up his mask.

               “No, really! I’ve been staring at you earlier and I can’t deny the similarities!” the waiter insists and you see his eyes spark in recognition. “You have the similar droopy eyes and familiar voice. Oh yeah, Jimin’s blonde hair on yesterday’s Music Bank is the same as yours–wait, don’t tell me,” The waiter pauses and raises his index finger to Jimin, “you’re the Park Jimin himself?” Jimin glances at you in panic and the waiter catches the small movement of denial. “Oh my god, you are Park Jimin! Damn, man, can I get an autograph? My sister loves you so much!”

               Neither you nor Jimin were able to say a thing after that, nor did you get a chance. The customers that didn’t care about your presence twenty minutes ago are now looking at your way with full, intent stares.

                “Jimin? Park Jimin? That singer from BTS?”

               “Jimin is here?!”

               “Oh my god, it is him! It’s Jimin! It’s the same hair color and jacket and earrings he wore in tonight’s V Live!”

               In the next second, everyone is screaming and rushing out of their tables to approach you.

               You’re frozen in your seat, chills rising in succession in your feet, arms, and spine. Crowds of faces were shoved right against your face, bunches of arms reaching and grabbing and thrashing around, and the screams and hollers were so loud they turn into garbled white noise. It’s like the zombie apocalypse except the creatures grabbing at you are still real, living people.

               “Jimin! Jimin!”

               “Oh my god, Jimin’s with a girl!”

               “Hey, Jimin, look here!”

               “Jimin, please sign this!”              

               “Wait, is that Jimin’s girlfriend?”

               “Jimin, can I take a picture with you?”

               “Jimin, who’s that girl?!”

               “Jimin, I love you!”

               The next moments are a blur. A second ago, jumpy teens and young adults were crowding your table, screaming and thrashing around. In the next second, Jimin has his hand clasped around yours, pulling you fast out of your table and out of the door. And now you’re here, running on the city street, your steps pounding on the cold pavement in heavy beats as a thunderous stampede follows close behind your tail.

               You’re finding it hard to take in all that is happening that the sudden pull on your arm toward your right has you dizzy and almost nauseous.

               “What’s ha-happening?”

               Jimin sneaks a glance at you and then back on the street. “Our fans are chasing us. Keep running. We don’t want them to ruin our date.”

               You purse your lips and will your legs to keep up with his pace. You’re about to chide him for what he said but you decide against it and just kept your mouth shut. You can’t bite back a witty comeback when you’re running out of breath.

               Huffing, he pulls down his mask to take a breath. “C’mon, let’s run faster!”

                The city whizzes by you, multicolored houses meshing into straight lines and warped shapes in a fast-forwarded reel. The streetlights overhead promise another corner to turn to and the pavement below your feet remains constant in its grayness and never-ending stretch. You and Jimin run and turn to corner after corner and it wasn’t until you’re stepping on the fifth street from your run do you realize your hand is still clasped in his.

                It feels weird to have another hand next to yours, much less a hand with fingers that oddly perfectly fill each gap between yours. What’s more odd is that you are comfortable, running to god knows where, hand in hand with a stranger. Well, Jimin’s not technically a stranger, given that you’ve known about him onscreen for six years, but still, everything feels too new and strange especially when he’s your…soulmate.

               The sleeve of your jacket has ridden upward your arm and your eyes immediately caught your inked daffodils. You’ve let your eyes miss their beauty in your shock earlier. But now, you can’t help but stare at awe when the flowers’ yellow petals rival the golden daylight as if the moonlight above has reflected every bit of the sun’s shine onto the art inked on your arms. You’ve never heard of this kind of soulmate system before, nor its strange incongruity with Jimin’s soulmate system. What is truly strange, is you’re already finding yourself dismissing any doubts about them. It’s horrifying that you can’t seem to care about anything anymore because all you could feel is…joy. Everything feels too perfect like a dream. Maybe it is true that you’re actually dreaming because as far as you’re concerned, the soulmate systems have ousted you since you were born. Everything about this daffodil sleeves and Jimin are probably just conjured by your unconscious, trying to make you feel better to ease the guilt of ruining Lucy’s night. You’ll wake up to your alarm to another shitty day in law school and then –

               “JIMIIIIIIN!”

               Unlike your expectations, it is a blaring scream that wakes you up to your senses.            

               “Where’s Jimin?!”

               “There, there! I can see his blonde hair AHHH!!!!”

               “Jimin! Don’t run away from us!”

               And then, you’re running fast again, lungs squeezing in short breaths as Jimin pulls you to corner after corner, maneuvering you in and out of street after street. Your legs are starting to numb from exhaustion but before you could start to whine at Jimin for a short break to rest, he has already pulled you into a dark, narrow alleyway crammed between two clothing retail stores. Only a few seconds later, a mass of shouting teens runs past the street.  You turned your face away, holding your breath in until the last one behind them misses your hiding spot, only finding it permissible to breathe again when the fans’ loud voices dissipate in the next corner.

               When you turn your head back to your front, you’re met with Jimin’s own flustered face. Only mere inches separate your lips from brushing against each other. Words are caught in your throat as you let your eyes take in his flushed state: his fringes matted on his forehead, his pink lips parted as he huffs, his ears reddened from the cold, and his warm brown eyes that reflect your own blushing face. If everything that has happened tonight really turns out to be a dream, you hope your sleep could be long enough to let you drag this night for as long as you could.

               “What are you staring at?”

               You’re suddenly brought back to where you are, pressed uncomfortably against the cold walls of the alley. Your eyes instantly moved down to your feet and with the motion, you caught a glowing thing sitting right atop on your left ring finger. It takes you a second to realize that the yellow glow is coming from the inked daffodil on your ring finger. Your daffodil ring is glowing like a fucking firefly. Your eyes widen and they fleet upward to meet Jimin’s eyes, your mouth gaping. “I–uh-uh–um–”

               Jimin raises his eyebrows, lips curving upwards. “Can’t get enough of my beautiful face?”

               “What? No!” You turn away and scowl, hoping the night could cool down the heat forming on your cheeks. You frantically pull the sleeves of your oversized jacket to hide your glowing tattoo.

               “Don’t need to be defensive. You can stare as long as you want, Y/N. After all,” Jimin raises his index finger and gestures to his face and down to his body, “you own all of these.”

               Your eyes twitch and your lips form an unamused frown. Jimin laughs.

               Jimin was the first one to squeeze out from the narrow space and you follow next. Despite your reaction earlier, you find it necessary to keep the frown on your face. You try to not let it show how much his words are making your heart pound loud and proud against your ears.

               You clear your throat. “You’ve got some serious fans out there.”

               Sighing, Jimin takes off the mask pulled under his jaw and stuffs it in his jacket pocket. “Ah, yeah. We always get that occasional…warm greeting whenever we land at airports. I guess we’re already used to that.”

               “Warm?! It’s borderline harassment!”

               “They’re just…excited to see me, that’s all. I can’t complain because I signed up for this when I decided to pursue this career.”

               “But still! That doesn’t mean they get to shove their faces to you and scream and demand you to take pictures with them or sign this or that. You still have your personal space and people should respect that. You’re still a human being, Chim.”

               Jimin stares at you before he breaks into a chuckling fit. “I didn’t know we’re on the stage to be making petnames for each other now, Y/Nie.”

               You gulp as you feel your cheeks heat up again. “I’m serious!”

               “Yeah, I know. I’m just joking to laugh off the heartbeats I hear pounding loud in my chest. You look at him, brows furrowed. Jimin shrugs. “I can’t help it. You make me feel like this.”

               You clear your throat again, diverting the conversation to where you are before he got sidetracked. “Anyway, can’t you get like a restraining order on them or something?”

               “You know that’s impossible.”

               “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just pissed off.” He looks at you smirking, and before he can come up with another cheesy line, you spoke out, “For you! Pissed off for you, yeah. Any person shouldn’t go through such trauma.” Jimin nods and you ramble on, “I only saw you guys’ airport fiascos on fancams. I never knew a toned down version of those like this will be already this bad. Heck, I’m already trembling with just a couple of fans hot on our toes, what more for you guys who get pushed and shoved and grabbed here and there by a flock of them. It’s goddamn scary and infuriating. If I were in your shoes I would have dropped down and screamed and cried. I’m glad I didn’t push my stupid 17-year-old dream of becoming an idol. I can’t do that stuff.”

               “I’m glad too you didn’t pursue that dream. I don’t want other men freely ogling my girl with no lawful repercussions.”

               “’…Ew. Don’t say that again.”

               “What?”

               You blanch despite the heat gathering on your cheeks. “The ‘my girl.’ It’s cringey.”

               “Oh hell no am I never gonna say that again if you’re blushing and being cute like this because of it. Oh my, Y/N, you can just say you like it! I can say it again if you want to–”

               “Oh please, no–”

               “My girl.”

               “Shut up!”

               “Ahh, you’re blushing more!”

***

               The skyline has long deepened in an inky indigo blanket yet you can’t feel your eyes fluttering close any minute now. It’s true because about eleven thirty, you’re still busy chirping away flower meanings to Jimin who was attentive to every word down to every flower color, to notice you two have already reached the business area of the city. There were no more residential areas or any run-down bars. Skyscrapers stood tall and brooding on strict two sides of the road while cut-straight gravel streets measure a meter or two to separate establishments. Unlike the streets from the bar to the diner, which were colored in various hues of maroon, beige, blue, and occasional flickers of yellow, the buildings in front of you followed a narrow color palette of light gray to black. However, the gloomy vicinity did nothing to dim the colorful trivia-dump you’re doing with Jimin.

               “Did you know, most yellow flowers usually have the most offensive meanings?”

               “Really?”

               “Yeah, like the marigold. Despite being a vibrant flower, it actually means envy and jealousy. And oh, don’t get me started with carnations. I always find myself inquiring young men who came into the shop picking yellow carnations if the flowers were for a first date.”

               “Why is that?” Jimin raises his brows.

               “It’s a horrible choice for a first date! Yellow carnations mean disdain and you DON’T want to jinx a starting relationship with such a negative connotation.”

               “What flower should I pick then for a first date?”

               “Roses are safe. Red, pink, or white are definitely the charmers. White carnations also do the trick for you as they mean sweet love. Although I mentioned yellow flowers usually have the most offensive meanings, there’s one flower I know that stands out, the most perfect one I think for a first date.”

               “What is it?”

               “Sunflowers,” you grin. “Despite all their beauty and all that mechanism where they turn towards the sun’s direction, they are quite tedious to grow. They’re needy of nutrients. They drain the soil from its nutrients, hogging them that no other kind of plant should be placed near them as they will easily die. That’s why they carry the meaning of draining love. But you know what? Even if they’re draining, they hold one of the most delicate and romantic message”

               “What is it?”

               “Everlasting love,” you smile. “They may be quite draining but their beauty is worth every effort. See? Wouldn’t be that the perfect flower for a first date?”

               Jimin nods. “Yeah, they are.” He looks at you, smiling and you bite your lip to prevent yourself from smiling too wide.

               When you turned to another street, Jimin asks, “Do you know another flower that holds such a…bittersweet message?”

               “Yeah, spiderlilies. But you know, I think that flower has the saddest story to tell.”

               “Why is that?”

               “It’s the flower of parting. It–” You suddenly trail off and Jimin stops in his step the minute you pull his arm into a stop. “Wait, where are we? Why are we in the business part of the town?”

               Jimin tilts his head, “I told you I’m gonna show you a place.”

               “A place? In here?”

               “Just trust me,” Jimin chuckles and he grabs your hand before you can utter another word.

               After a couple of minutes weaving down two streets and turning two corners to the left, the two of you stand in front of a humongous gravel gray tower. It would have looked uptight and intimidating if it weren’t for its darkening edges, from the soot or age, you couldn’t tell. All you know is that Jimin is already pushing through the large glass double doors with you in tow.

               “W-wait, what are you doing? This is trespassing and if you don’t know what it is, it’s illegal!”

               “We’re not trespassing. Trust me.”

               The furrows on your forehead deepen, anxiety grappling at the edges of your nerves, but you couldn’t do anything but follow him. You don’t want to admit your feet were walking on their own so you’re gonna blame Jimin for holding your hand too firmly.

               The ground floor of the tower wasn’t that much. All it has was clean white walls and cream-tiled floors. Its reception desk wasn’t too grand with just a gold bell, a couple of stacked news articles cased to the side, and a fake Picasso painting hung behind it. You can tell it’s Picasso because it was the same painting you always stare at in the guidance counselor’s room, with a small black label printed “Picasso” underneath it. And you know it’s fake because the guidance counselor told you the original piece of that painting now resides in the residence of an old Italian antique collector. The two of you wound a corridor and passed two hallways before you stop in front of metal double-doors, the ones used for fire exits in hospitals. It has a built-in lock and by the way Jimin pushes the door without any advances, you know it’s locked. Jimin fumbles for the back pocket of his jeans and produces his wallet, taking a silver key tucked in its small flaps.

               You gawk. “You have a key for this?”

               Jimin doesn’t answer but smiles, inserting the key. When you hear the doors unlock, he pushes one open and gestures for you to come inside. You didn’t have any qualms and just followed him. You figured that if Jimin has the key, then what you’re doing is not trespassing, and you find yourself relaxing eventhough you’re boggled as to why Jimin possesses such key when his entertainment company is in another twenty-six storey building on the opposite side of town.

               Jimin leads you down a wide hallway past the metal double-doors, now colored in gray walls and darker gray tiles instead of the standard white and cream of the rest of the ground floor. There were a couple of doors lining on the sides, each designated with a position of an authority you didn’t catch to read. At the end of the hallway, a set of stairs lead downwards and you find yourself yet again, waiting in front of another set of metal double doors as Jimin inserts another silver key into the built-in lock. He pushes the doors open and as you stepped inside, you feel your jaw drop to the floor.

               In front of you was a skating rink, surrounded by glass partitions that measure about a meter. Black benches surround the rink like the ones you see in the hockey games inserted in films. However, unlike the ones you watched, the benches weren’t many enough to hold spectators of a game, and the rink was too small to hold a proper hockey game. It’s probably ideal only for recreational skating like the ones you went to with your mother whenever she feels like taking you out in winter.    

               You turn to Jimin. “What is this skating rink? I thought we were inside a business building.”

               Jimin leans on one of the benches. “Me and my group always go here to let out stress. When we were stressing for our debut, when we need a breather for comebacks or, when the cameras and media were too much–we always go here. It’s a secret hangout place, tucked underneath this large corporate building.About 50 years ago, this building was like a winter sports complex. It has this large skating rink where monthly local competitions for hockey and curling are held. Sometimes, it’s lucky enough to hold regional competitions as this part of town was far from the business center back then. Aside from contests and trainings being held, anyone–kids, teens, adults–gets to arrange who uses the spare time from the fixed schedule of the complex for recreational hockey, curling, or just…skating round and round.” Jimin laughs. “Sometimes, the complex frees it schedule to invite anyone to come and skate for a downgraded price. You know, like how your local authorities turn the frozen lakes into a public skating area when winter comes.”

               Jimin’s lips form a straight line, “However, business turned sour in the long run because another sports complex was built near the area, equipped with more supplies and employees. So the owner of the complex and the land had to sell their whole business because of that, and also because her family is going to migrate to the States. This skating rink was supposed to be taken down but the first owner of the land run back to this town and made an agreement with the buyer. Pleaded nothing will change from the negotiation except she’ll pay anything just for the buyer to keep the rink. She went all out with her money then. Even sold her house and her ancestor’s villa in Taiwan.”

               “She…spent all her money for this?”

               “Well, yeah. She did go almost bankrupt but at least she got to keep her skating rink before she died.” Jimin glances at you, waiting for a reply but when you just return a stare, he tilts his head in inquiry.

               You pull on your sleeves. “I didn’t say she did bad choices…it’s just that–it’s a lot of risk. I don’t think anyone could do that but her.”

               “Anyone can do that, it just depends what they’re willing to risk. Because–well, some things are just worth risking everything for.”

               You stay silent, staring at him. Jimin chuckles and grabs your hand to lead you towards the locker room. He proceeds with his story, “The buyer built a commercial building but fulfilled his end of the agreement by keeping the rink. And when the buyer eventually handed over the building to his son, the skating rink was then cut into half as the 3rd owner got the building renovated and sold half of the land to another millionaire. The other section of the rink was turned into another building but this one remained because the owner’s son loved to skate whenever his dad brings him for bring-your-child-to-work day. Now the son, the current owner, kept this skating rink and even opened it to the public because unlike the previous owner, his dad, he’s fun and wants to let kids come into this concrete jungle just to play and hang out.”

               “How do you know all of these?”

               “I’m friends with the current owner. His name is Henry Kim, a friend from preschool, and I swear I never knew how filthy rich he was back then. We became friends because I got enticed by his story of the first land owner meeting her soulmate, her husband, in a local skating rink which inspired her to build the sports complex and even had the succeeding owners keep the rink. Henry even got me some articles about it to read. So now, I and the boys get to have alone time in here whenever we want, away from all the cameras and the media and the pizzaz. It’s a privilege, I know, given our…status, but I’d like to think it more as out of our friendship.” He turns back to smile at you. “It makes me warm.”

               You didn’t know how to reply to his last statement so you just returned his smile and let his hand guide you to the locker rooms where you can strap on your skating shoes. It didn’t take you too long to lace up your skating shoes and waddle onto the rink because within just a couple of minutes, you’re already giggling, waltzing on the ice. It’s been a while since you let yourself enjoy like a child like this–free from societal pressure, success strife stress, and family expectations; to laugh aloud and feel nothing akin but being on top of the world just because of simple things like this–skating round and round.

               “So you told me, it’s your turn to let me learn more about you,” you skid in front of Jimin, grinning. “When is that gonna happen? You’ve been rambling about on and on about a lot of other people.”

               “Well, there isn’t much,” Jimin skates in time with you towards the east end of the rink. “I practically showed and revealed everything already on TVs and magazines.”

               “Not true. You’re more than what the cameras show what you seem to be.”

               “You’re a fan though. You practically already know everything about me.”

               “Also not true. No one is capable of fully knowing everything about everyone. All you have is your perception of others and others’ perception of you, but they will never be enough to be everything about you nor others. People are like mirrors, you know. They see each other based on the images they envision them in so, they’re just staring at what their thoughts collectively created about another person. In the end, the only one who truly knows themselves are no one but themselves.” You sigh, turning to him and taking his hand as you let centripetal force control your balance and skate you backward. “How about this: you tell me things you’ve never told anyone before.”

               “Okay,” Jimin agrees and he pulls you back to his side, hands still connected. “Do you know I used to dream of becoming a fisherman?”

               “A fisherman? Do you even know how to fish?”

               “Well…no. But you know how preschool assigns you this homework where you have to draw your dream?” You nod. “Well,” Jimin continues, “I don’t really have a dream for me back then and I can’t draw for the life of me. And then, I figured a fisherman is easy to draw because you just have to get the trapezoidal boat, the swirling waves, the stickman, and the two lines of a fishing rod right. You can add puffy clouds and the ‘m’ birds for background. After that, I convinced myself all I ever wanted is to be a fisherman and when I told that to my mother, she almost fainted.”

               “Oh my god,” you giggle, “you just made up a dream for yourself out of a drawing?”

               “Yeah, and it wasn’t the only scenario,” Jimin laughs. “By 3rd grade, I learned how to draw a motorcycle from sticks and circles so when the draw-your-dream assignment came up again, I upgraded my drawing skills and changed my dream: I now want to be a pizza delivery guy. Of course, I told my mom about it again and this time, she also upgraded: she chased me around with a slipper.”

               “I understand your mom though,” you manage to chortle in between snickers. “Being a fisherman and a pizza delivery guy are honorable but they weren’t the greatest permanent jobs in this down-slope economy.”

                “True,” Jimin agrees and this time, he lets himself skate backward, keeping his hold on your hand, firm. “Anyway, the rest is history. The media already wrote about how I got into a contemporary arts school and from there I learned to love dance and eventually dreamed of becoming a performer.”

               “What did I tell you about not being only what the people see you to be?”

               “Okay, okay. Umm,” Jimin trails off, eyes wandering as if the things he wanted to say can be easily picked up in the skating rink. But just a second later, he’s suddenly looking straight into your eyes, his own ones glimmering. “Oh, I got one! I was a hell of a headache when I was a kid. I was always so jumpy, running around, loudy as hell–the type of kids you cannot contain in one place?”

               You nod, smiling. “A lot of kids were like that.”

               “Well,” he chuckles, “the difference is that I cannot still be contained in one place even I’m way past a kid. Anyway, the me back then was a whole different level. I like going to town after town, wandering around, always hoping for some adventure. I once got on top of a delivery van, parked near my neighbor’s house, so near that it was easy for me to jump on it from their balcony. Their balcony wasn’t that tall anyway because their house was some kind of a Spanish-inspired bungalow. We were playing hide and seek at that time. I was so competitive I thought if I got on top of the van and lied down very flat, I will be unnoticed. It turned out to be a good idea because ten minutes later, the kids are now calling out for my name, yelling for me to show up so we can start another game. When the van suddenly rumbled, I quickly realized what I did was a terrible idea. The van picked up its pace and now we’re really moving from the front of my neighbor’s house. You know what I did?”

               You shook your head, giggling.

               “I cried. Real loud. Snot, sweat, and tears mixing, I look like a dumb, reckless kid who always gets complaints from the neighbors.” Jimin laughed. “So after crying for like good two minutes, that I thought was an hour back then, I started choking on my own spit. With the wailing turned down, I heard my father running behind and screaming for the van to stop. I was lucky that the driver immediately stopped after hearing my father’s cries. But after that, I wasn’t lucky anymore. My mom felt the need to keep me away from vans and my neighbor’s balcony. God, it was so embarrassing.”

               “At least your ‘hobby’ got corrected,” you quip.

               “You think jumping on vans was my hobby?” Jimin scoffs then smirks. “Don’t underestimate me. I can do much more than jumping on vans. I even did bungee jumping. Remember that episode on Run BTS!, our TV show?”

               “Of course I remember. You screamed like a screeching pterodactyl.”

               “No, I did not. That was Taehyung.”

               “Okay, okay, touché. I was just trying to make you laugh.”

               Jimin grins. “You don’t have to try though. You can always effortlessly do that.”

               You tilt your head. “Are you telling me my existence is funny?”

               Jimin pulls you towards him and you almost tumble forward but his firm grip on your hand keeps you balanced on your skates. However, you could feel every bit of warmth coming from his body as his arms are now wound around yours, keeping you as close to him as possible. Close enough for you to feel his breath fan against yours, close enough for you to trace every constellation marking up his face, and close enough for you to see the reflection of your face in his eyes…again. Jimin breaks into a grin. “I’m trying to tell you that you can easily make me happy without even trying.”

               You feel scorching heat immediately spread on your chest and to the rest of your body. You lightly push Jimin away, scoffing. Jimin puts his hands into his pockets. You sputter out,“W-what? As if I can do that. I’m really really intolerable and insufferable, you know?”

               Jimin chuckles, “It’s okay. I can handle that.”

               Before you can mumble out another disagreement, Jimin grabs your hand again, leading the two of you to the other side of the rink, this time, skating side by side.

               “Continuing from what I left on, you know what good came out from my reckless days?”

               You don’t answer him but glance his way.

               Jimin continues on, “I managed to get lots of friends. I got a bunch of them in preschool, then in elementary. When I got into high school, my group of friends got so large that almost everyone in the school, not just our batch but the lower grade levels as well, practically knew me before I even knew their name. Man, it was crazy. I get to hang out with different people per week and I get to learn their stories. It’s so fun.”

                “You must be quite of a people-person even back then.”

               “Ah, yeah,” Jimin nods. “People said I thrive off people surrounding me. Said I like being complimented and that I grow more when I’m surrounded by them. Something about collective growth.”

               “But, who wouldn’t like compliments?”

               “True. Everyone likes them. It’s just…I think they are right, but sometimes…I beg to differ.”

               “What do you mean?”

               “I feel like it’s the people who thrive on me, not the other way around.”

               You look at him, curious. “How come?”

               Jimin breathes out, tugging the collar of his leather jacket closer to his neck with his free hand. “I thought why people liked me back then was because I was fun. You know that type of kid, who gets the crowd’s attention easily and entices everyone to join them in in whatever they do? That type of kid who’s easy-going and can effortlessly make boring things look cool? The people around me told me I was like that and at times, I do feel it’s the reason why I got so many friends. But as I grow up, I feel people liked me because I really love listening to their stories. I love it too much that it was even quite…abnormal.”

               “Abnormal?”

               “Yeah…abnormal. You see, back on the days, I used to latch on to person after person telling them, no, begging them to tell me their stories–the place they were born in, where they grew up in, their secrets and interests, anything. I learned how to clean vinyl records from an old unmarried man in our neighborhood. I got to travel to Geneva from a rich girl who told me her summer vacation at the playground. I even unknowingly caught up with the local gossip of a married man and his mistress three blocks from our neighborhood. I don’t know why exactly I did it. It just felt nice. It seems our generation’s now short of anyone willing to listen to what they have to say. So when people heard of my abnormal…hobby, they searched for me and spilled everything. They get someone to listen to them, and I get myself new stories. It’s a win-win situation.”

               Jimin steps to the side, creating a wider gap between your bodies as you skate but still kept your hands interlocked. “They treated me like a pond they could throw rocks into, entertaining them with my fascination and curiosity and assuring them I will not tell another soul about what they said. Just repeating what they said, nodding when they ask questions, and taking everything they told me inside when they bid their temporary farewells. They always come back for another listening session and everything will repeat. Some people I listened to talked too excitedly as if a day will never be enough to tell their story. A few talked in spurts that it’s hard to determine the beginning and the end of their stories. There were the factual lessons, rambles of nonsense, litanies of achievements, and some tear-jerkers.” Jimin sighs. “But the most amazing one I ever got to listen to was how my mom and dad met.”

               You purse your lips. “U-uh, who told you that story?”

               “My mom,” Jimin grins. “She told me the story of how they met as soon as I can understand anything. Of course, they told me the red string of fate story, but what interested me the most was their soulbond. Their soulmate system lets them know what each other is feeling even without talking about it. It’s amazing.”

               “How did they meet then?”

               “Well, my dad had a crush on my mom before he even knew she was his soulmate. My mom is my dad’s childhood friend. She became his friend in his very first day in school after she defended him from a group of kids bullying him for being too short. After that, all he ever did was admire her. He wasn’t too adamant about the soulmate system before then because all he could ever feel from his system was annoyance and irritation.  My mom lived next to dad’s house and belonged to the same group of friends he has so it was easy for him to always see her. However, talking to her was a difficult feat because my dad is one hell of an introvert and he always gets frozen feet just at the sight of her. So when my mom finally had enough of my father’s tiptoeing around her, she demanded for him to just tell her whatever issue he has with her so she can stop feeling awkward with his coldness.” Jimin giggles, “Of course my father is bad at confrontations so he just hiccupped and ran away in embarrassment. However, my mother’s words sunk in so he pulled out a recorded track he made about a month ago–a song he made just about my mother, and edited it, ending with a shy ‘I-I know you probably have many suitors by now…but can you please, please, please take a chance on me? Okay, that was too forward, shit, I’m sorry, how do I turn this off?’”

               Your jaw hangs open in disbelief. “You memorized it word per word?”

               “Of course,” Jimin chortles. “It’s too funny to let go!”

               “So after my mom heard about the record my dad left on her doorstep, she immediately asked him to dinner that night. And during their date, that’s when dad felt his soulbond feeling at peace and in love. It didn’t take them to put two-on-two together to tell they were each other’s soulmate. I swear, their soulmate system is wonderful. Dad can easily tell when mom is upset and he easily convinces her to talk it out with him. I always think communication is a strong foundation of every relationship, and to have such a soulmate system to let you feel easily what the other is feeling, it must be heaven! Imagine not having to guess or tiptoe around one another when conflicts arise. Feelings assure you the truth because no one can control what they want to feel, not to mention that soulmate system betters you to become a more empathic person.” Jimin turns and locks his eyes with yours. “Don’t you think it’s amazing to have such phenomenon? To have a significant other crafted by the universe just for you?

               You glance away. “…Yeah.”

               Jimin diverts his eyes back on the ice. “Unlike the me back then, I wasn’t that much into stories now.”

               “Why?”

               “These days, it’s hard for me to reach out and listen to people who have anything but hate or illusioned righteousness fueling their systems. The only things people tell me now were how great I was, how much I make from this job, how handsome I got. Sometimes I get to listen to bitter people who feel the need to question my career choices, making me feel bad to uplift themselves. And then majority of the time, I get people who idolize me so much, put me on the pedestal, and make me out as someone that wasn’t really me. I know some of them mean well, but sometimes…you’re just not comfortable anymore.”

               You look up at him, “Because you know you’re more than that?”

               “Well, yeah,” Jimin glances at you. “You put it really well into words. I’m impressed.”

               A question was on the tip of your tongue and you purse your lips, debating whether to ask him or not. But then, this might be your only chance you could ask him this, so you made up your mind and tugged his jacket. “Tell me, sometimes…do you ever wish you didn’t get this humongous fame at all?”

               Jimin stares at you and a couple of seconds passed before he decided to answer. “Yes, sometimes. I hate how people follow me everywhere, invade my privacy, and treat me more as a commodity than a human being. I hate how I have to hide my family and childhood friends from the limelight just so they don’t get dragged in any scandals people are so obsessed in making up. I hate having to wake up and unconsciously worry about my looks, my angles, and my weight more than anything else because I know more important matters in the society are more worth thinking and talking about–but I–I don’t know, I just can’t help it. I can’t help how the media changed me. Of course, there’re good and bad changes it brought to my life but I hated the bad ones to the very core.  But you know, when I look back and trace my steps to where I was before, I realize that fame made me happy before,” he looks at you, “and how it still does now. With this fame I was able to bring joy to lots of people and give them love they were unable to receive from those around them. With this fame I was able to give my parents a home they used to only dream about. With this fame, I was able to meet my bandmates who loved me like a family…and, I wouldn’t have met you if I didn’t become the Jimin now.”

               “H-how so?”

               “You wouldn’t have taken a chance on this date, on this soulmate thing for one whole night with me, if I wasn’t who I was today.”

               Your forehead furrows, your chest constricting in pain. “N-not true. Why are you telling me that –okay, maybe I gave you that impression of an obsessive fangirl because I blurted everything on my tongue when I first saw you, but honestly I wanted to know you more as a person and not as–”

               “No, no,” Jimin waves his hand, chuckling. “I’m sorry I implied it that way. What I mean is: You wouldn’t have trusted me enough to stay with me tonight and try this soulmate thing if I wasn’t able to love myself first before I met you.  I didn’t know what love was back then. I just imagine myself being unconditionally admired and taken care of my soulmate. And, I guess I wasn’t my best during that time. I complain a lot, demand too much, and bottle my feelings inside until they suffocate me. When things go wrong, I find it easy to blame someone else. I regarded too highly of myself that I’ve become selfish and insensitive to the people around me. So when I slowly started  to outgrow my horrible past-self, I then learned it’s impossible to trust someone about love and relationships if they are still unable to love themselves. Sure, people will argue that they can figure that out together. But still, I think it’s better if we learn how to be comfortable in our own skins before we demand others to love us. It’s not fair for them to tolerate their significant others who can’t love them right. How can we love others when we don’t know even know how love is supposed to be and feel like? That’s why…I’m glad I met you now, because I think I’m ready to love–” Jimin bites his lip, “Okay sorry, I got too sidetracked and went off the loop again , but do you get what I mean?”

               “Yeah, it’s just,” you close your eyes, shaking your head, “everything about this soulmate thing still shocks me and I’m still trying to get a hang of it so sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

               You keep your glance down, apologetic, waiting for Jimin’s reply. But all you got is, “Why do you like flowers so much?”

               You look up and Jimin looks at you, eyes warm, smile wide. You didn’t have to stare for long to know he’s trying to change the topic. Trying to make you comfortable again. Actually, he never failed to make you comfortable throughout the whole night. He has never pushed you to tell everything about yourself–never demanded for you to tell him about your family like how he openly talked about his, never forced you to reveal your weaknesses and insecurities when he let you in on his vulnerability.  And even though you’re starting to think whether to talk about each one of them or not now, he still gives you the choice to come back to your safe zone whenever you want. All of these are enough of a reason to grip his hand tighter in yours and pull him to the center of the rink, facing each other.

               “Wait, whoa!”

               “Okay, why don’t we dance?”

               Jimin’s eyes almost bulge out “Dance?”

               “Yeah, dance! You know what, I’ll take the lead.” You pulled him closer to you, looping your arms around his frame in a gentle hug. Jimin’s shocked and tensed for a bit, but it wasn’t long before you can feel him giggling behind your ear and returning the hug.

               “I didn’t know you were this…aggressive.”

               “Shut up,” you laugh. “Can you just indulge in my free offer and not say another cheesy pick-up line?”

               Jimin chuckles. “Okay, will do.”

               You didn’t move much. Just, swaying and turning in small motions with your arms wound around each other. You can’t exactly point out why you’re suddenly doing this when an hour ago, you’re too adamant showing him you’re not affected by him at all. All you know is you can no longer disagree that everything with him felt right. Even if you’re still afraid and unsure, everything you did with him made you feel good. Everything you did with him made you feel something akin to happiness.

               And this time, you feel the urge to take the risk and dive in. Just for this night, you’re going to do yourself a favor. Only for one night.

               “I… like flowers so much because words can sometimes be never be enough. Flowers are the only ones that can materialize them. They’re ephemeral and they wilt, like how words evaporate into thin air once you let them out in the open. But, you know that they once lived to fill a moment because you saw their beauty and their ugliness in such a short period of time. They did exist and you know it. And I guess,” you murmur, snuggling deeper into Jimin’s hug, “it’s only through those flowers I get to be true to myself.”

               “What do you mean?”

               “Out of all the things I said tonight, the truest of them all are only the flowers. I’m not a great…arguer at all. I’m a pathological liar. I lied to myself about my distrust in this soulmate system. My cynicism to it was never solely because I wanted to make my own destiny. It was because I saw my mother and father’s relationship go down the drain even when they’re already made for each other. They knew each other so well that it’s easy for them where to hurt each other each time one of them fucks up. They divorced and I have to live in a broken family, torn between the two of them, afloat and in limbo as to where I should stand when they’ve easily marked my days as to what kind of daughter I should portray whenever I have to visit them.  And for me to live without any soulmate system at all, it felt I was further kicked down to the curb by life. Because as much as important love is, sometimes what only matter the most is the assurance that somehow, someone will love me. Because that thought is enough of an emergency kit for my mind whenever I feel too cut off from the world. And having no soulmate system as any kind of assurance….I pitied myself, thinking I can never find out what love truly feels.”

               You hiccup. “I lied to myself for years that my mother’s disappointment in me didn’t bother me. I always knew I’m difficult and for her to see me grow as a woman that she did not expect me to be is hard. I was never into law. I’m into gardening. My mom knows that because I was the one who always tended to our plants and made our garden grow as much as it could even if we’re just in a single bedroom condo unit. I just decided to take law because I know I can’t make a living out of gardening yet. It’s sad, I know, but I have to push through so when the time comes I get to save enough, I can open my own garden shop. And,” you trail off, grasping Jimin tighter in your arms, “I lied to myself I hated every bit of this night with you when tonight’s probably the happiest I’ve ever been in my whole life.”

               Jimin didn’t say anything. He just hugged you tighter when your shoulders quiver, stroked your back when he felt stray tears wet the skin of his neck. He didn’t push you to say more. He lulled you back to comfort in his swaying, singing you a tender melody by your ear to help you feel at ease again. He is just there, unobtrusive, just patiently waiting for you to do anything.

                When he felt you loosen a bit in his hold, he lets out his voice. “Would you mind to continue the story of the spider lily? You left me quite hanging there.”

               You don’t know why he’s diverting the topic again, but you didn’t mind, having the chance to relieve yourself from years-worth of heaviness you just have mindlessly let out in the empty ice rink. After all, he’s a stranger and telling him everything in your mind wouldn’t hurt because they all leave unobtrusive marks in your life which they easily erase once it’s time for them to go. However, it pains you to type in Jimin as just a stranger in your life.

               You clear your throat. “The-the spider lily is the flower of parting. Their flowers only bloom when the leaves die. They were believed to be lovers who aren’t destined to be together at all.”

               “That’s…terrible.”

               You nod. “…Yeah.”

               “I’ll make sure our story does not go like that.”

               You draw back to look at his face. “What?”

               Jimin smiles. “I’ll make sure our story does not turn out like the spiderlily’s. I know you’re still probably against this soulmate phenomenon. But…I want you to know that you don’t have to feel alone and unloved anymore. I’m already here. And I’m serious about you. Soulmate or not, what we have now isn’t just a one-night thing.”

               “What do you mean?”

               “I love you.”

               Jimin stares at you and it only takes a second before he suddenly rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “I-I know it’s too soon and you don’t have to say it back but I can’t control what I feel and–”

               You lean forward and shut him up with a kiss. Jimin freezes in your hold for a second, and then he instantly melts in your arms and returns your kiss. You don’t know why you’re doing these–embracing him tighter, angling your head, deepening the kiss to taste more of him, letting him pull you closer so that you can now compare the matching rhythm of your heartbeats. You don’t know why you’re exactly doing these things with a man you just met, no, your soulmate you just found tonight, when hours ago you’re expressing your disdain on the existence of the soulmate phenomenon. The only thought unwaveringly running in your mind now is you don’t want this to stop.

               You don’t want to stop staring at Jimin, even when you struggled getting in the cab he hailed, too busy getting lost in his eyes. You don’t want to stop enjoying the warmth from the small kisses he places against your nape, even if you had difficulty pulling your house keys from your tight jeans pocket as you giggle and moan in his warmth. You don’t want to stop feeling hot and high, even when the coldness of your home starts to seep into your toes as Jimin sheds the clothes on your body, piece by slow aching piece. You don’t want to stop holding his hand, even when you had to strain one arm pulling off his black shirt as he laughs against your neck. But most of all, you don’t want to stop kissing his lips, even when you have to part from him for a second as you lose your breath when his hips bucked into you when he laid you down on your bed.

               Jimin hovers above you, kissing you with such passion as if it will be the last time he would be able to hold you. And, you tried to return the same intensity, to balance the heat he radiates on your burning skin, to pave every expanse of his skin you could reach as he ventures every curve and ridge he could touch. With your bodies bared and stripped naked to each other, you can no longer hide the plethora of feelings that has welled on your chest just from such dream-like night you had shared with him. When Jimin parts away to cup your face in his hands, thumbs slowly caressing your cheeks, you see nothing in his eyes but the image of you–breathless, flustered, happy. You almost wanted to cry.

               “Can you be my first and last, Y/N?” Jimin asks, voice almost quivering.

               You can only manage a whisper through parted lips. “I can, Jimin. A-and I want you to be mine too.”

               After that, you were a goner. No words are further exchanged as Jimin starts to leave a trail of kisses from the sunken juncture of your jaw, to the ridge of your collarbones and onto the valleys of your tender breasts. He travels the gentle swells of your stomach, onto the curve of your hips until he’s down to the banks of your hot core, aching and willing and waiting for him. No words are slipped past each other as he dives in and savors every inch of you, nipping, and licking, and kissing your sopping heat until you’re a moaning mess on your sheets. And when he finally brings you to your high, no words are enough for you to express the euphoria thrumming in your nerves, settling on your chest, filling your head. No words are needed when your eyes and his convey them for you as you plead for more, more, and more and Jimin willingly gives all of him to you.

               Every touch of his hand on your quivering hips has you groaning and pleading. Every caress on your waist and shoulders has you sighing and moaning. Every brush of his hard chest against the soft buds of your breasts has you moaning and wailing. And every graze of his lips against yours, you can’t help but melt and let your body speak your thoughts for you. You pull him desperately, cupping his face as you roll your hips against his that has him choking out a moan.

               “Jimin,” you breathe into him and he smiles.

               “W-What?”

               “Please.”

               You don’t need to say anything in words for your dazed and glimmering eyes are enough to convey them all. Jimin smiles and gives in. He captures your lips into another kiss, murmuring your name between interlocked mouths. You feel him shift in his position above you and when he deepens the kiss again, you finally feel him burying himself deep in you. Jimin gives himself to you in slow and deep strokes that have your back arching off the bed, fingernails digging into his skin. You sputter his name again and again and despite how far gone he is losing in your heat, his gaze on your eyes never wavers, nor loses trace of every bit of him he has exposed to you, making you lose yourself into him even more.

               Everything compounds into each other in such miniscule timeframe–from the moment Jimin intertwines his tongue with yours, to the second you clutch his head closer underneath your chin to continue his featherlight kisses on your jaw. When he angles his cock deeper into you, you can only think about nothing but him, him, and only him. As he holds your hand tight in his hold, with his lips on yours as he mutters “I love you, I love you, I love you,” in between every thrust, you finally feel what it’s like to be on top of the world.

               Like the explosion you felt when he first touched your hand, it only takes one second for Jimin to let you fall apart in his arms. Euphoria living alive in every inch of your nerves, you clutch desperately on his arms and Jimin draws you closer to him as your walls clamp onto him and coaxes him to also let go in your arms. The fullness and torrid heat of him spreads inside you and Jimin kisses you once more with everything he’s got–sloppy but passionate, messy but powerful–a beautiful mosaic of the feelings you had in the most wonderful night of your entire life.

               You’re dazed and shaken, wondering if it is possible for everything to be a dream. But when Jimin collapses next to you and pulls the blanket over your bodies, all thoughts cease in a staggering halt as he whispers, “I’m happy I get to know you.”

               You smile in his embrace, “Me too.” Sensations always hit first before thought and without thinking twice, you find yourself breathing out, “Promise me you’ll be by my side ‘til tomorrow morning.”

               Jimin kisses your left hand, the one with the daffodil ring, and as he says “I promise,” you fall into a peaceful slumber. His words are enough of an assurance for you.

***

               When tomorrow comes, you wake up on a cold bed. Jimin is nowhere to be found. You didn’t need to feel more of his side of the bed to know his clothes and shoes and every trace of him in your home is now gone. But still, he promised.

               You slip into your shirt discarded on the floor and drag your worn body to the living room. Your couch and your coffee table stood untouched. When you turn to your right, you find your kitchen and dining table empty. No smell of cooked food lingered in the air. You dashed to your shower even when you hear no sound of water splashing on the tiles. The door swings open and your shower stands empty, polished tiles dry, no trace of use on the faucet. With pounding steps, you run back to the living room, straight down to your door. Fingers skimming down on your bolts, your hand trembles when you find the knob and grasp it. When you twist it, your door clicks open as it unlocks.

               You refuse to acknowledge the obvious possibility looming on your head since you woke up. But now, it only takes one more second of you standing by your unlocked door before your thoughts crash down, choking out a broken sob from you. Jimin left the minute after what happened last night. He didn’t go outside to just buy something before coming back to your home. He didn’t even stay long enough to wash up and clean himself. He just got up, locked your door close, and went out, leaving you behind.

               You hunch over your doorstep, grunting, pain hammering on your chest as your body falls to the ground. Uneasiness, frustration, and desperation muddles into a heavy iron ball that sinks on your chest, sinking deeper and deeper until its heaviness constricts your lungs of any air.

               Jimin left and he didn’t even bother to leave a note. He doesn’t have your keys, nor your number. He isn’t planning to come back.

               You stiffle a broken scream on your clenched hands.

***

               Three taps on your desk grow louder by the second, each one nipping on your nerves.

               “Hey, Miss, my roses?”

               “O-oh, right,” you stir, eyes fluttering wide, taking in the bouquet of roses you were wrapping. The flower shop is brightly illuminated by the overhead lights and the morning daylight, yet everything looks so hazy, the frantic movements of your hands sticking out so aberrant from your perspective.

               “Here’s your bouquet, sir. Thank you for coming to Petal Hill.” The man waves off and your smile falls the second the glass door swings close in his exit.

               Everything went back to normal. You went to university in the morning, started your shift in the flower shop in the afternoon. You didn’t miss a day and you eat and sleep the same way. Routines are done the same way they are until they blur day after day, just how you live your days with sleep marking the end and beginning of every tomorrow. But, they are still not enough to fill the gaping hole in your chest. Whatever you do, they’re not enough to let you forget of that night. Even if you tried to convince yourself that you felt okay after Lucy made up with you, your false defense just crumbles whenever you so much glance at the inked flowers on your arms, the ones Jimin ignited to bloom that night. More so when now the flowers have dulled in their yellowness after he left.

               Even if you know it’s futile, you still did everything you can. You changed your sheets and cleaned your home. You refused to look into any online article pertaining to him. You busied yourself until you break down tired. You screamed and have already cried for so many nights. And you did something you abhorred: wait–wait for someone to come back without any assurance they have actually plans of coming back.

                You wait for Jimin to show up at your door, explain and apologize and fulfill his end of the promise. Because even if you abhorred the sight of your mother endlessly waiting for your father to come back and how you did the same for the both of them, Jimin is different. He is your soulmate and that night you met him, he convinced you it won’t hurt to give this soulmate phenomenon a chance. So each day after that dream-like night, you waited and waited until all seconds, hours, and days add into an excruciating week.

               For one week, Jimin didn’t show up and when a gray Sunday afternoon comes, eight days past the night, you’re starting to wonder if you should still keep your unrealistic hope alive.

               The glass door swings, ten footsteps echo in the silent shop, five pansies are laid down on your table–and then you stop. Your thoughts halt in a frozen limbo, your body stills in staggering shock.

               It’s the same bleached blonde hair, the same black leather jacket, the same silver earrings, the same drooped eyelids and warm, brown eyes – it’s Jimin, Park Jimin, who stands in front of you, waiting for you to wrap the pansies on your desk. It’s him, the soulmate you’ve been waiting to come back to you for so many days and nights and all you can do is–

               Your eyes immediately dart down to your desk as your fingers scramble to wrap the flowers. “If you just came here to make sure I won’t tell anybody what happened, don’t worry, I already plan not to. Your reputation will remain clean and you’ll still have millions of fans. You can leave after I wrap this.”

              “W-what? No, I’m not gonna do that, Y/N. Never...I came here to talk.”

              “Oh, so now you wanna talk. After a week of silence, you now decided you want to talk.”

              “Y/N–”

             “So now that you wanna talk, what are we gonna talk about? How everything that happened was a mistake?” you spit out. You’ve already thought about this but hearing them loud from your own lips starts to make your eyes sting with tears. You immediately look down again at the flowers you’re wrapping. You can’t cry in front of him again, let him see you this weak again. You can’t have him to kick you down to the curb again.

            “No, Y/N. I’m sorry. Please–please look at me.” Jimin says, a sob escaping his lips. Receiving no response, he places his palms on your desk and pulls down his mask as he leans forward to meet your downcasted eyes. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he repeats, voice cracking. “I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry I wasn’t by your side that morning. But believe me, I didn’t want to break my promise, I just have to do something–”

              “What do you have to do?” you cut him as you raise your hand to wipe away the tear that has made its way down your cheeks. “What do you have to do that is so fucking important for you to just leave me as if nothing happened between us? Why do you have to disappear for a week without any word? Why do you have to just show up now? Why, Jimin, why?”

              You face Jimin, letting your eyes meet his for the first time and really look at him. His lips are chapped, his complexion pale, the bags under his eyes dark. He looks just as bad as you but you don’t want to dwell on it, afraid your resolve will crumble down when you should be keeping a strong front.

              “Y/N, I–I'm sorry,” Jimin says again as a tear escapes down his cheek. “What I did is unforgivable and I know you have every right to hate me right now. But I-I have actually planned to stay and make you breakfast and tell you–”

              “I don’t need to hear what you could have done because it did not happen,” you look at him and Jimin freezes. “You didn’t stay like you promised, Jimin.”

             “Y/N, please–” 

             “Just tell me why you left me. Why do you have to appear now?”

              “I,” Jimin starts and he sighs. “Namjoon called me around four, demanded where the hell I am. Apparently...the media has already published pictures of us getting in a cab together that night. Namjoon asked me to come back to the dorm right that instant before the media can do a massive stakeout in front of your building and barrage us with their cameras. So I didn’t come back the morning after to not raise any more suspicion. I waited a week to pass for the paparazzi to calm down and drive away their cars before I can go back to you.” He raises his hand to wipe a stray tear on his cheek but it’s not enough to prevent the small wet drop from landing on the pansies. “I-I can’t let the media invade your privacy and create horrendous articles about you. They can do that to me, but not to you. Never to you. You don’t deserve that.”

                You’ve imagined this confrontation scene again and again in your head for the last couple of days. You’ve planned what you’re going to say and how you would end this goddamn connection with Jimin once and for all. And yet...you couldn’t remember the words you’ve planned for so long to say right now. They just died immediately at the tip of your tongue as if they were never there in the first place. And you hate it. For once, you thought you could finally have some control over the effect of this man has on you. You feel ashamed. You feel as if you’ve betrayed yourself.

                Biting your lip, you bring your eyes back to the pansies. “I guess that’s better than having you figure out I’m just a simple nobody you can fuck over for one night of fun and throw away when you’re done and satisfied. Because that’s what I thought when you left me.”

               “No, Y/N, I’ll never do that to you–”  Jimin scrambles to reach for your hands but you take a step back away from him. You could see pain brim in his eyes and hurt pangs in your chest. You thought if you could deliver the same pain he brought to you, you would feel better. But no, you only felt worse. Worse for thinking hurting back the person you love is the right thing to do. Just like what your mom and dad did to each other. Tears sting your eyes at the thought. You swore never to become like them and you’re doing the very mistake they did. You hate this. You hate feeling so weak. You hate how you’re even thinking about Jimin and what he must be feeling when your own chest feels so heavy with the pain he caused.

               You tear your eyes away from him and dart them to your clenched hands. “I already heard your apology, Jimin. You don’t have to repeat it again to convince me. I’ll just finish these pansies so you can go.”

              “No, Y/N, you don’t understand. Can you please–please just look at me?”

             “What for, Jimin? I already heard you out, what more do you want?” You wipe away the tears that have streamed down your face, “Do you want me to hear now how sorry you are because you didn’t mean everything you said? Because if you do–”

              “I meant every single thing I said,” Jimin breathes out. “I love you, Y/N. So much that I want to do everything I can just for you to be happy. I waited for so long to finally meet you and I’m so, so, so sorry I broke my promise and fucked everything up. But I swear, Y/N, I want nothing but you and I meant everything I said especially when I told you I love you.”

              You raise your head to finally look at him and you almost wanted to regret your decision. Jimin stands in front of you, sobbing, eyes wrecked. He looks so vulnerable, cut wide open for you to see. You know he must be saying the truth but you still can’t ignore the doubt clouding in your head. You’ve already believed him once. You don’t want to repeat your mistake again.  “I would be lying if I told you I don’t want to believe what you said,” you choke out a sob, “But Jimin, I can’t just take you back and pretend what happened did not hurt me.”

               Jimin freezes. “N-no, Y/N, please–”

               “Jimin, I want you to prove you mean everything you said. I’m sorry, but I...I just can’t forgive someone so easily with mere words. I’ve seen hundreds of relationships go down because of that.” Your voice cracks, “Hell, I’ve seen my own mother and father destroy each other with repetitive apologies and forgiveness. I need to respect myself, Jimin, I–” you let out a shaky breath and hand over the wrapped pansies, “I’m sorry I can’t accept your apology now.”

               Jimin looks down and nods, “I understand, Y/N.” He doesn’t take the flowers and turns away, walking to the door. Each step he takes is synonymous to another crack making its way down your heart but you know you have to do this for yourself–for you to have enough reasons not to regret the decision you already made up in your mind about his and your future. You have to do this for yourself so you can finally deal with your fears and doubts about the soulmate phenomenon. So if Jimin can’t do what you request for, then you’ll let him go. You can’t let him and yourself experience the inevitable tragedy brought forth by the intense intimacy and transparency the soulmate phenomenon brings. You can’t take it if the both of you will face the same horrible ending your parents had.  

               Jimin stops by the door and you look up to see his retreating frame.

               “Keep the pansies. They’re for you. I-It was nice seeing you again, Y/N.”

               After that, he’s gone.

***

                You didn’t expect anything from him after your meeting in the flower shop. However, you know better than to anticipate nothing from Jimin but an effective counter-argument. You know your judgment is right when you found the proof first on your doorstep in the morning after of your talk, September 15. Five pansies stood in a small vase placed on the right of your door, next to your umbrella stand. Underneath it was a pink note, which said, “I’m sorry.”

               That evening, you stayed up late into the night. Your clock ticks ten thirty and then you hear it: a click of a button, a faint clink of glass, and Jimin’s soft voice.

               “Hi Y/N. I…I’m sorry for what I did. And I hope you know I won’t give up making it up to you for you to know I’m really serious about you. I–I’ve brought you pansies. I remember every single thing we talked about that night and after that night, the only thought that always comes to my mind ever since is you.”

               The morning after, you see the same vase and a fresh set of flowers, the wilted blooms probably cleaned up and taken out. However, instead of the note, a record lies next to the vase. When you slid it into your beat-up player, a relic you kept from your mother’s home, it plays his short message last night.  

               The routine falls into place the following days.

               “Hi Y/N. Our schedule today wasn’t full so I had the time to go to a library and read about flo-flo-floriography? My tongue always gets twisted when I say that so please don’t judge me. I’ll pronounce it better soon. So back to the book–I read that sweet peas mean ‘Thank you for the lovely time’ and I’m sorry I wasn’t able to give you that right after our date. After all, it was the happiest night of my life. Anyway, I got you some sweet peas now with the pansies. I hope you like them.”

               “Hi Y/N. I’m sorry I’m late.  We got dance practice until ten and I rushed here right after our choreographer called it a night. I wish I can show our dance to you now, but yeah…I guess you wouldn’t want to. You’ll probably throw the flowers I have now to my face. Okay, I’m kidding. I know you wouldn’t do that. I just want to make you laugh. I miss hearing you laugh.”

               “Hi Y/N. I stopped by Petal Hill this afternoon but I didn’t see you there. Someone filling in for you told me you skipped your shift to study for your tests. I wish I could help you like how guys in cheesy romance movies do but I guess I won’t be able to do that because I’m not that smart. I’ll leave early today so you can study. Eventhough I know you’ll slay it, I’ll still wish you good luck. I hope these gardenias with the pansies will give you additional good fortune.”

               “Hi Y/N. We did songwriting today and I wrote my first solo song. Guess who’s my ispiration. Surprise, Surprise, it’s you! Namjoon told us to just write out anything we’ve been thinking a lot lately and all I could think about is you. I can’t show it to you yet because it’s still messy but I promise, as soon as I made it perfect as it should be, you’ll be the first one to hear it!”

               “Hi Y/N. I read a book about flowers again! This time, I got curious about azaleas, the small, pretty pink blooms on the front shelf of Petal Hill? The flower book I read says they look like azaleas. Anyway, I learned that they require quite an effort to grow because they prefer a little sun and a little shade. I guess that’s why they mean ‘fragile’ in the older books of floriography. However, I read that even if they’re fragile, they can last for several weeks. Thus, they also mean ‘take care’ in modern floriography books. Isn’t that amazing? I brought azaleas today so they can last long and remind you to always take care of yourself.”

               Every morning you collect the records he leaves and every night you can’t help but forgive him bit by bit. His flowers and records make your mornings worthwhile; his soft voice and songs, a lullaby that you start to anticipate in the night. Jimin does his routine religiously night after night and it wasn’t long before you find your heart softening to him again, opening up for him so easily even when you didn’t want to.  There’s no use to deny the fluttering of your heart anymore because as nights go by, you already find yourself gathering up your courage to open the door and finally let him back in.

               For twelve nights, Jimin’s routine doesn’t fail. In the latter six nights, you’re by the door, practicing what to say. You plan to just throw open the door once you finally sorted out everything you want to say. However, that plan immediately goes down the drain because of one Monday night, the 14th night of Jimin’s supposed routine.

               “Hi Y/N. I know it’s late but….I have to say something important. I…I won’t be able to stop by for the next few days. We’re having our comeback tomorrow and soon after, promotions will require us to go overseas. I just came because I hope you’ll open the door by now and at least show me your face. Doesn’t matter if you throw the door close to my face the second after you show your  face. I just want to see you real bad. It would be long before I can see you again and I…I miss you. I miss you so much, Y/N. So can you please open the door? Because…I know you’ve already forgiven me.”

               Your body freezes and before you know it, your feet are pounding hard on your floor towards your door. The millisecond you tear open your door, you barely whisper, “Ho-How did you know that?!”

               Jimin stands in front of you, eyes wide. His hair is still bleached blonde like the last time you saw him, his gentle eyes still the same. He looked better than the last time you saw him, healthier. But unlike your expectations, there’s no vase and record this time. It’s just him and his flowers–a bouquet of pansies and sunflowers in his hands. Tears well up in your eyes and your lips tremble. But before you can say anything, he answers your question. “I–I can hear your thoughts.”

                “W-what?” Your jaw falls open. Oh my God.

               Jimin opens his mouth. “Oh my God.”

               Your forehead furrows. What the fuck, is he copying me?

               Jimin shrugs. “What the fuck, is he copying me?”              

               What the hell –“H-how did you know what I’m thinking? Wha-what–”

               “It’s my soulmate system,” Jimin looks into your eyes and your body goes rigid in shock. Jimin bites his lip. “I lied about soulbond being my soulmate system because…I don’t want to scare you that night that I practically already knew everything about you before I even met you. That I purposely went to Marti’s Hub just to get a glimpse of you when I knew you’re going to that bar to cry over your Law 114 essay and I just happened to be near that area. And that how I came to your rescue was not perfectly a coincidence, but intentional because I heard your…mental cries of help.”

               “The-then what about the-the daffodil ring?” You point to his left hand and Jimin breathes shakily.

               “This ring wasn’t because of your soulmate system…or mine,” he admits. “Remember that time when you’re fifteen and you thought about how romantic it will be to have a daffodil bloom inked around your ring finger instead of a wedding ring? I thought about that a lot until I can’t think about anything else. All I knew is that I have to own a permanent mark of you on my body because it felt wrong not to be tied to you in some way when you already own every part of me. I have a daffodil inked on my ring finger because,” he trails off and looks into your eyes. “What’s the meaning of the yellow daffodils?”

               You’re the only one.

               “You’re the only one,” Jimin breathes out. You felt your tears trailing down your cheeks and Jimin’s thumb wipes them away. He keeps his hand on your cheek and you look up into his eyes, into his eyes that reflect nothing but you. One second is all it takes for your defense to crumble down and fall. Fall into Jimin’s arms, fall into him again, letting him hold everything that you are–your strengths, burdens, weaknesses–everything.

               “B-but what about y-your parents?” you choke, “The-the soulbond–”

               “They’re true,” Jimin says, firm. “Excluding my soulbond soulmate system, everything I told you that night is true. My parents, my stories, my wishes, my intentions, my ‘I love you’–they’re true. All of them.”

               You tremble in his arms and Jimin holds you tighter. It is right then you decide to finally deal with your fears. “H-how can you be so sure, Jimin? How can we make this work? I-I’ve only known about you in one night.”

               “That’s not quite true,” Jimin chuckles. “You’ve known about me since 2013. I know I caught your eye the instant I showed up in the screen with the cringey snapback, trying hard to swag with cheap gold chains on my neck.”

               “But what about me? You only knew me i-in one night…”

               “Not true too.” Jimin cups your face in his hands. “I told you, I can hear your thoughts. I’ve been hearing them since you were born–all that you did, all the things you liked, all the people you disliked–I’ve already known you since I started hearing you. Hearing the minutest details of your thoughts for over so many years is enough for me to know about you.” He breathes out, smiling. “Enough for me to know my soulmate already loved me before she even meet me. And I want her to know I already felt the same before I even saw her.”

               Before you can say anything else, Jimin leans over and presses his soft lips against yours. It’s gentle, intimate–a delicate touch that conveys nothing but love. You make a noise of surprise but you already know you’ll be melting in his touch within mere seconds. You know because your cheeks feel warm and your chest flutters in joy. You know because everything about the night suddenly feels right. You know because even if you haven’t said it aloud, Jimin knows what he said is true.

               When you part, you’re greeted with his soft smile and gentle eyes that you love so much. And right then, you know that even if it scares you, you’ll have to say everything in your heart aloud. What’s let out in the open air cannot be undone anymore and you have no plans of taking back the words you will utter.

               “I love you, Jimin.”

               Jimin smiles and beams back, warm and bright. “And I won’t get tired telling you I love you, too, Y/N.”

               Standing there on your doorstep, as the world slowly turns around you, you think it’s finally time that you accept the tale of the red string of fate is more than just a fairytale for everyone else but you. Because right in front of you, is your own happy ending. And, you’re sure, even in another universe, you will relive that night you met Jimin again and again if it will grant you what you have now in your arms: love.

               You don’t need to glance at your glowing daffodil ring to prove that you’re right.

Epilogue

                As you touch your red-stained lips with one final dab, your voicemail beeps. Your free hand presses your telephone to hear the call you missed since you’ve been out of your house the whole day.

               “Hi Y/N. It’s mom. I…I wanted to tell you this in person but it would be a while before my bus reaches your place. I just…I just want to say that your father met up with me two weeks ago and…yesterday, we decided to give us another chance. I’m sorry I’m only telling you this when I always felt I should have said this way back before: the soulmate phenomenon works and I’m so sorry we caused you to distrust it and lose hope in love. I know we’re not the best parents out there, but Y/N, I want you to know that you are loved and someone out there made by the heavens and destined by fate will love you more and make you happier than we ever could. This soulmate thing–it works as long as you give it a chance and work hard too to make it work. We will be there at your place tomorrow with your father…We missed a lot about you these recent two weeks…especially your father, and I hope we can catch up. Always take care, Y/N. Mom and dad loves you.”

                   “You ready, Y/N?”

                  You turn to your boyfriend, smiling. “Yeah, Jimin, I’m done.” You grab your purse and take Jimin’s open hand, giggling when he presses a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips.

                   Smirking, you said, “You really know now how to kiss me without smearing my lipstick.”

                   Jimin looks at you, grinning, “Of course, I won’t ruin your perfect makeup. You made yourself pretty for our date tonight.” He leans to the crook of your ear and whispers, “Unless…you want me to do now what I have in mind for us later in the night.”

                  You cringe at him but Jimin probably already knows his words have affected you because you already feel your cheeks starting to heat up. “Ah, you’re so cute. I love teasing you,” Jimin chuckles as he interlocks your hand with his. When you step out of your home, you glance back to your telephone and then to your daffodil ring, glowing faintly. Smiling, you close your door.

A/N pt. 2 | Hi hons! Thank you for reading this 2nd long-ass oneshot I made after Translucent Fireworks! The inspiration from this fic came from one of the requests in my Songs to Read Playlist:

3 minutes of listening to I was Made for Loving You and one eureka moment are all it took for me to plot this story in detail from start to finish.Thus, I decided then to make this a full oneshot, and now, I am drained and tired after finishing this. This has sucked the lifeblood out of me as this kept me busy for one whole f*cking month and next week is all I have left of my summer break before uni starts hell again. But hey, at least I made up my lack of activity to you hons with lots of wordcount! Thank you for appreciating my works and I hope you all stick with me longer as I have a lot of upcoming works in store for you!

All Rights Reserved © Vanaera. Reposts, modifications, and translations of content are not allowed without direct permission.i

[arofili]

HURT/COMFORT EXCHANGE PROMPTS:

This is a very sketchy list of prompts for the Hurt/Comfort exchange. Feel free to ignore/adapt these as you choose. My TPP prompts are in the signup itself, not in this letter; this just has Tolkien prompts. My Russingon prompts are all grouped together despite being split into two different requests in the signup. See my signup for DNWs/general likes/canon preferences.

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Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo (hurt Maedhros) Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo (hurt Fingon) Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo (both hurt) the OTP <3 I just love em. Most of these are going to be hurt Maedhros, but hurt Fingon is ALSO very good, I love it when the expected dynamic is inverted. But the expected dynamic is expected because it’s VERY GOOD CONTENT, so go with that if you want to!!

Character discovers their friends have been defending them behind their back: Maedhros discovers Fingon has been fighting his battles for him, has mixed feelings about this

Character A reassures Character B they are still loved: this is the GOOD SHIT. fingon reassuring Mae he is still loved post-Thang ;-;

Experiencing Another's Pain Through Psychic Bond, Soul bond means A can feel B's pain even when B is trying to hide it: could work either way, but probably Mae having a flashback to Angband or his aches and pains getting to him, and Fingon can tell even when he tries to hide it

Body worship focusing on the scars and aftermath of trauma: Finno still finding Mae extremely sexy post-Thang

Careful Sex Because One Partner Is Injured/Ill: post-Thang first time? or maybe Fingon gets injured in a minor battle but is still very horny, lol

Carrying sick/hurt/exhausted character to bed: tiny but buff finno carrying his giant husband to bed!!!

Character A hurts Character B (at their request) during sex but Character A immediately regrets it: Fingon hurts Maedhros at Mae’s request, immediately regrets it - basically kink/boundary negotiation

Masochistic sub asks for more pain than they really want: the inverse of the above prompt

Character A is in despair and Character B offers hope: this is literally The Russingon Dynamic, i love it SO much!! bonus points if Finno literally shares his hope/estel with Maedhros through their soul bond

Character A made to live through/experience B's worst memory: more soul bond angst :)) Finno reliving one of Mae’s worst moments? or Mae realizing Just How Bad the Ice was?

Past Rape Accidental Reveal - Consensual Sex Causes Flashbacks To Previous Rape, Character A reveals they know something B has tried to hide and reassures B that it changes nothing: Maedhros tries to hide something that happened to him in Angband (probably sexual abuse but it could be something else), Finno had already figured it out and it didn’t mean change how he felt about Mae, but it still really bothered Mae - now Finno realizes how much it’s bothering Mae, and reassures him

Character believes they're (turning into) a monster: post-Thang orc Mae??? 👀

Character didn't want to be brought back to life: Mae committed himself to Everlasting Darkness, thought he was beyond forgiveness/redemption, killed himself so he would Cease To Be - but now he’s suddenly reborn and has to deal with that, with Finno’s help of course

Hurt A expects B to take advantage of them. Is stunned when B doesn't, Character expects to be punished but is unexpectedly comforted instead: post-Thang Mae in a fucked up mental state expects Finno to punish him for some minor indiscretion, but Finno comforts instead

Past Rape Accidental Reveal - Consensual Sex Causes Flashbacks To Previous Rape, panic attack during the first time they try to have sex after rape, Dissociating During Sex, Consensual Sex Causes Flashbacks To Previous Trauma, Character Should Safeword But Doesn't, Character has no sense of their own boundaries: post-Thang Mae struggling to understand consent and dealing with sexual trauma ;-;

Character increasingly bothered that their love interest walks so willingly into danger: Mae has a not-so-subtle death wish, Finno gets upset that he cares so little about himself

Character used to past traumatic sexual experiences is confused by genuinely loving partner: post-Thang Mae with Fingon. in this case, bonus points for them getting together for the first time AFTER Angband, so Mae only has bad sexual experiences before this...

Characters live together while one recovers from hurt: Maedhros lingers by Fingon’s side for longer than he really /needs/ to post-Thang

Coping with past rape through sex: this one probably makes more sense if they were already together before Angband, Mae learning to enjoy sex with Fingon again. Maybe Finno expects that Mae will only want to be on top given what happened in Angband, but actually Sauron liked to force Mae to be the top, so he prefers bottoming now?

dealing with grief by fucking: post-Bragollach Fingon is grieving but doesn’t want to think about it so he fucks his husband instead

edgeplay due to thin line between kink and trigger: post-Thang Maedhros figuring out his boundaries

Slow Burn - Soulbonding is the only way for A to save seriously injured B's life, healing energy transfer accidental soulbond: immediately post-Thang, Maedhros is bleeding out and Fingon soulbonds with him to save his life. could be that they were pining but not together before this, OR that they had a messy breakup and this comes at a really awkward stage in their relationship but now they’re basically married

Humor as way of dealing with pain/trauma: Mae with gallows humor that makes everyone uncomfortable...except for Fingon, who Gets It

Impact Play - inflicting pain until character breaks down in much-needed emotional catharsis: Maedhros deserves to get spanked until he can cry :)

just because they're immortal doesn't mean they can't suffer: HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA this is just. THE ENTIRE SILM. ESPECIALLY these two.

kink(s) as coping mechanism: Mae has now figured out what his boundaries are, and Finno has too, and now instead of it being scary they can just enjoy tying Mae up and hitting him and Finno being possessive

Loyal character loses object of their devotion; doesn't know what to do with their life now: fealty kink!!!! but post-Nirn :)))))))

Mutual pining during slow recovery from near-fatal injury: Russingon getting together post-Thang

Physically Injured Character Comforting Emotionally Distressed Character: Fingon is extremely upset about having cut Mae’s hand off, Mae comforts him

Slow gentle hesitant touches to help character who's used to rough or falsely-gentle touches: Finno helping Mae relearn to enjoy touch

Touch-Starved - Only seeks out touch from one trusted person: no one dares touch the infamously stoic Lord of Himring...except for Fingon, who drapes himself all over him whenever he visits...is Lord Maedhros just tolerating the prince for political reasons? but wait...is he leaning into the touch???

Touch-Starved Character Having Overwhelming Tender Long Foreplay First Time Sex: first time post-Thang, Fingon is incredibly gentle and loving which is really overwhelming for Mae (in a good way)

Accidental arousal while cuddling for comfort: mutual pining (probably in Valinor)

Being bathed while mutually pining: post-Thang pre-relationship, Finno is the only one Mae trusts to bathe him

Character A Confesses Feelings Because They Think Character B is Unconscious: Finno thinks Mae is unconscious post-Thang? OR recovery period time, they’re sharing a bed bc Finno passed out exhausted from a long day of tending to Mae and Mae confesses when he thinks Finno is asleep

Character A thinks they are unworthy of Character B: Maedhros thinks he’s not good enough for Fingon - bonus points if this is BEFORE Angband, and he’s always had self-worth issues

Character(s) ashamed of their sexual desires: very similar to the above, Maedhros has always had messed up ideas about what he Should Feel

Characters Are In Love But Duty Will Keep Them Apart Forever Until Something Makes Them Do It: idiots mutually pining <3 perhaps an arranged marriage situation??

Comforted with homemade meal: Mae’s love language is food, he makes something for hurt!Finno

Comforter tries to comfort with a homemade meal. It doesn't end well: Mae’s love language is food, so when he needs comfort Finno tries to make something for him, but Finno is a terrible cook

Comforter stunned by how much comfortee trusts them: Finno doesn’t understand how Maedhros can still love him after he cut Mae’s hand off

Comforting character is in denial about attraction to other character: MUTUAL. PINING. and repressed Mae :))

Delirious hurt character & comforter are hiding their relationship from other people present: post-Thang married-in-Valinor, Finno shows up with Mae on eagleback and it’s very hard to keep their relationship a secret when they’re upset like this and Mae is delirious with pain

Estranged Characters - Injured A shows Up on B's doorstep Saying "I didn't know where else to go": This would probably be some sort of AU (like a modern AU, idk) where Russingon broke up ages ago but suddenly Mae shows up on Finno’s doorstep and they have a long and awkward getting-back-together process :’)

Fate tries to keep them apart: is this not just canon? :(

Gentle Kissing: SOFT BOYS PLS

Hair Brushing: hair kink!!!!!

A has to listen to loved one B being slandered/insulted/mocked: Finno has to listen to people shittalking his husband, he can only hold it in so long before he goes off on them

pining character thinks object of their affection loves someone else, Nervous about confessing love - Misunderstands and thinks it's for someone else: GOD TIER MISCOMMUNICATION TROPE, i love this shit, especially if it’s Mae who messes up so bad Finno misinterprets and Mae is usually very eloquent but NOT WHEN IT COMES TO THIS

Pining character reveals their feelings while not quite lucid (hurt/drunk/etc.): a young drunk Finno confesses to Mae in Valinor? Mae confesses to Finno for the first time in the midst of his haze of pain post-Thang?

A protects B despite damage to their own reputation: Finno will stand up for Maedhros NO MATTER WHAT

Refusing to Leave Other Character's Side: Maedhros and Fingon stick together no matter what - possibly an AU where things go a bit better?

A rejects B despite the pining being mutual due to insecurity/outside circumstances: this is another EXCELLENT trope for these two, especially in mutual pining in Valinor - Maitimo wants Finno very badly but is convinced the politics of it will make it impossible, Finno keeps trying anyway until finally Mae loses his resolve

Secret Relationship Revealed - Consequences Are Disastrous/Deadly: ...and maybe Mae was RIGHT and when they get found out All Hell Breaks Loose

Committing a moral wrong for the sake of other character: Finno rushing into save Maedhros at Alqualondë :)))) and knowing he’d do it again even if he understood what was going on......

Curse Breaking: TRUE LOVE DEFEATS THE OATH

Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies doesn't mean Nobody Hurt: Finno survives the Nirn...at a Cost

Falling Asleep As A Sign Of Trust: Maedhros has trouble sleeping, but he can relax around Finno ;-;

Character has to learn new way of fighting following injury: Finno helping Mae to learn to fight with his left hand

Character Can Never Make Up For Murder: Maedhros and Fingon both grappling with being Kinslayers

Hurt character who believes they don’t deserve comfort begins to accept they do and accepts comfort: this is EVERYTHING i want,, Maedhros learning to love himself!!!!! AHHHHHH

Pining A saves B's life at great cost to themself then hides it from them: pre-relationship, Finno saves Mae from Thangorodrim but keeps nobly pining all on his lonesome despite Maedhros dropping every hint that he’s madly in love with Fingon

Sharing a bed with hurt character while mutually pining: delicious at any time, but especially if they’re sharing a bed during Mae’s recovery time post-Thang

Recovery from permanent loss of limb(s); love interest builds/brings a prosthetic for them: the Noldor are a crafty people, I bet you even Fingon was a bit of a smith! he makes a prosthetic for Mae :) OR he bugs Curufin to make one and delivers it to Mae

Waking from a happy dreamworld to a painful reality: soft fluffy Russingon.........except it was a dream and when Mae wakes up Finno is dead :)))))))))))

Waking up from nightmares while sharing a bed: Mae has a nightmare post-Thang, Finno comforts him

Helping hurt character to dress/undress: erotic undressing and scar reveals post-Thang? 👀

~~~

Maedhros | Maitimo & Maglor | Makalaurë (both hurt) Maedhros | Maitimo & Sons of Fëanor (hurt Maedhros) Maedhros & Maglor & Elrond & Elros (hurt Maedhros & Maglor) Maedhros & Maglor & Elrond & Elros (hurt Elrond & Elros) I requested this with Kidnap Dads in mind, but there’s a few ideas I have for Maedhros + bros angst too :) Overall, please hurt Maedhros (and then comfort him) - even when E&E are the ones hurt, I imagine their guardians will be upset for them!

Anniversary of a traumatic experience: for Kidnap Dads, the anniversary of the attack on Sirion. for Mae + bros, anniversary of Fëanor’s death? or the Nírnaeth? or Mae’s capture? something like that.

Character discovers their friends have been defending them behind their back: shortly post-Thangorodrim, Mae discovers that his brothers have been defending him against people who no longer trust him because of his time in captivity

Character draws negative attention onto themself to protect another, Fighting to protect someone while injured yourself: Mae defending E&E from an outside threat!!

Character A reassures Character B they are still loved: Mae’s bros reassure him, or Mae and Mags reassure E&E

Memory issues make character forget details about their friends: post-Thangorodrim Mae with memory issues

Character draws negative attention onto themself to protect another, Character A claims they're Character B to save B from danger: Elrond or Elros pretend they are the other one so early-KD M&M will get mad at him instead of his brother (but M&M aren’t actually mad)

Character A is in despair and Character B offers hope: E&E & Maglor giving Maedhros hope in late-stage Beleriand!!!!

character A overhears sth that makes A think character B doesn't want/like A anymore (A is wrong): Maedhros overhears something that makes him think his brothers/the twins hate him?

Character A panics/overreacts over B's minor hurt/illness: M&M overreact to E&E’s minor ailment because elves don’t get sick but the twins are peredhil!

Character A sees Character B cry for the first time: E&E see Maedhros cry for the first time

Character A's parents disapprove of Character B: I know this is meant for like, romantic interests, but the image of E&E’s two sets of parents disapproving of each other is hilarious. Please don’t have either of them be Truly Awful Parents, but animosity/tension between them (much to E&E’s dismay) is excellent

Fix-it - Character survives canonical death, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies doesn't mean Nobody Hurt, Character expected to die but didn't and has no idea how to live anymore. Other helps & comforts: Maedhros lives AU!!!

Character isn't used to being loved and shown tenderness/affection: touch-starved Mae who hasn’t been properly loved since Fingon died ;-; (not for Maglor’s lack of trying but he also had a lot going on, and kids are better at getting through to Mae in any case)

Character taken prisoner; expects torture/humiliation; gets kind & honorable treatment: E&E expect the worst from M&M, but M&M immediately start being their dads

Character who can't offer much comfort does what little they can: Maedhros doing what he can to comfort E&E

Character who thinks they aren't well-liked is shown evidence that other people like them: E&E help Maedhros see how much the Fëanorian followers respect him

Character who's killed before comforts character forced to kill in self-defense: OH BOY this is a BIG OOF. I was specifically thinking of magical healing here, Maedhros and Maglor trying everything they can to keep Elrond and Elros from having to kill but then Elrond does have to kill something and he’s really beaten up about it, and Maedhros comforts him

Tolkien: Healing power blocked by killing: very similar to the above prompt - Maedhros used to be a healer but can’t anymore, still tries to teach Elrond; Elrond feels powerless because to heal he can’t fight

Characters know exactly how to hurt each other emotionally: Maglor and Maedhros being absolutely vicious to each other in KD era, E&E comfort them and get them to make up

Childhood Nightmare Turns Out To Be Very Real: E&E grew up hearing horror stories from Elwing about the Second Kinslaying, now it’s the Third Kinslaying

Comforted with homemade meal: Mae who loves to cook!!!! comfort food for the twins!! comfort food for his bros after an argument!!

Comforting Cuddle Piles: Mae is feeling down in Valinor and his bros all pile on top of him :’) or KD era would also be excellent

Curse Breaking: E&E are immune to curses, and help M&M defeat the Oath?

Family Feels - Fraught Sibling Relationship: This could go for any of Mae’s sibling relationships, but specifically early days KD era Mae and Maglor have been mean to each other for a long time since the Nirn, but now having the responsibility of E&E they have to work together again

Hostage Situations, Guilt-stricken character does good deeds to try and make up for past actions: Is this not M&M adopting E&E?

Hair Brushing: ELF HAIR TRADITIONS! bonus points if it’s different/not so important for humans/Sindar elves, but Valinorean elves like M&M place a huge emphasis on hair care

Having A Difficult Relationship With A Parental Figure: E&E looking back on their time with M&M and/or the abandonment they faced with Elwing and Eärendil (please no character bashing, but complicated feelings is good)

Hurt/sick character hides their own condition to allow less hurt/sick character to be treated: Maedhros hides his hurt so E&E can be taken care of first :)))

loss of voice: Maglor loses his voice, E&E & Maedhros care for him

music used to cause harm: Maglor teaching E&E songs of power!!!

musical healing: Maglor teaching Elrond magical/musical healing

Sibling unexpectedly cares/helps: Maglor expects no help with E&E from Maedhros, Maedhros immediately goes into dad mode anyway

Sleeping in the same bed because one character is too scared to sleep alone: E&E crawl into Mae’s bed after a nightmare when they usually go to Mags instead

Smaller/Weaker Character Tries to Shield Hurt Character With Their Body: M and/or M get hurt, E&E try to protect them despite being Baby

Unexpected Mercy - Character Who Believes They'll Be Tortured/Killed Begs Mercy For Another: Elrond begging M&M for Elros to be saved or vice versa

Traumatic discovery of biological parentage: this is the odd one out here, but it’s related I promise - Russingon baby Gil-galad realizes that Maedhros is his dad, is really upset by that, but E&E help him cope

~~~

Finrod Felagund | Findaráto/Turgon of Gondolin (hurt Turgon) Aredhel & Turgon of Gondolin (hurt Turgon) These are mostly Turgoldo ship prompts, but there are a few sibling relationship ones too!

Aromantic character unsure how to comfort friend with relationship troubles: Aredhel having trouble comforting Turgon amidst his pre-marriage woes? Or even worse, her having trouble comforting him after Elenwë’s death

Pining after your best friend who just lost their significant other: FINROD @ TURGON

Anniversary of a traumatic experience: anniversary of Elenwë’s death :(

Accidental arousal while cuddling for comfort: Finrod and Turgon on the Ice, Finrod is Very Aware of his crush and is super embarrassed OR Turgon hates himself for getting aroused so soon after he lost Elenwë

after much pining & almost dying A (bloody & bruised) comes straight to B & kisses them in public: post-battle Turgon finally reciprocates Finrod’s love ;-;

Being Cared for by Their Unrequited Love Interest: Turgon being cared for by Finrod, he knows Finrod is in love with him and wishes he could reciprocate, OR Finrod thinks his love is unrequited but Turgon is really just horrible with feelings

Character A Confesses Feelings Because They Think Character B is Unconscious: I was thinking Finrod to Turgon here, but also the other way around would be 👀

Character A panics when B starts crying during/after first-time sex; B reassures/comforts A: Turgon gets very overwhelmed when losing his virginity? OR Turgon gets very overwhelmed (with guilt?) having sex for the first time after losing Elenwë? OR Finrod gets very overwhelmed because he never thought he’d actually have this with Turgon?

Survivor Guilt, Character blames self for what they went through: Turgon blaming himself for Elenwë’s death :))))

Character Finally gets a Hug: Turgon gets hugs despite trying to push people away ;-;

Character's lie has unintended terrible consequences on loved one: Turgon lies by omission about Aredhel’s death (he lets Fingon think she’s still alive)? Finrod pretends he’s over his crush on Turgon JUST when Turgon finally reciprocates?

Character(s) ashamed of their sexual desires: Turgon is massively repressed

Comfort focusing on little hurt because the big hurt is massive and unapproachable: Aredhel and/or Finrod dealing with some minor injury and not mentioning Elenwë’s death

Comforting character is in denial about attraction to other character: Turgon @ Finrod

Comforting someone who is dealing with grief and loss and has shut themselves off from everyone: Turgon is almost nonresponsive after Elenwë’s death, Finrod and Aredhel take turns caring for him and for Idril

Nearly losing someone reveals deeper feelings, First kiss after almost dying: Near-death experience leads Finrod to impulsively kiss Turgon!!

Hair Brushing: elf hair kink pleaaasseee, this is especially relevant to Finrod tbh

Trapped/Injured in a Cave-In, Snowed In - A gets hypothermia and pining B has to cuddle them back to health, Huddling For Warmth: on the Ice :))

Inexperienced Character is Afraid of Not Being Able to Sexually Please Experienced Partner: Turgon @ Finrod

Longing For Home: this is literally why Turgon built Gondolin to look like Tirion...probably Aredhel comforting him here

Losing beloved: Turgon losing Elenwë...and then maybe his reaction to losing Finrod too :(

Pining character reveals their feelings while not quite lucid (hurt/drunk/etc.): an injured Finrod blurts out his feelings for Turgon? a drunk Turgon confesses he loves Finrod? - either way they were Not Ready for that revelation

pining character thinks object of their affection loves someone else: Turgon misinterprets the situation with Bëor? Finrod bemoans his fate at Turgon and Elenwë’s wedding?

Typically stoic character breaks down and admits how ill they feel: Turgon keeps all his emotions locked up in his chest but he breaks down one day and Finrod and/or Aredhel are horrified at just how much he’s been repressing

~~~

Gimli (Son of Glóin) & Legolas Greenleaf (hurt Legolas) Gimli (Son of Glóin) & Legolas Greenleaf (hurt Gimli) Gimli (Son of Glóin) & Legolas Greenleaf (both hurt) all Gigolas is good Gigolas, and you can quote me on that, but I nominated with the & symbol because my very favorite kind of Gigolas is queerplatonic Gigolas. would absolutely die of joy if you wrote that for me!

Character discovers their friends have been defending them behind their back: this is probably before they’re good friends - Gimli finds out Legolas has been defending him to elves or Legolas finds out Gimli has been defending him to some dwarves, basically “wait he really cares about me??”

Fighting to protect someone while injured yourself: battle buddies :)

A and B have a troubled past; forced to work together: enemies/rivals to friends!!!!

A and B have to work together to help injured mutual loved one C, A and B mourn death of person they both loved: Aragorn gets the short straw here, he’s either hurt and L&G have to help him before they’re really close, or it’s after Aragorn’s death and L&G are preparing to go to Valinor

Hair Brushing, Back rubs/hair stroking to help a character sleep: elf hair kink PLEASE, Gimli discovers that running his fingers through Leg’s hair will make him zonk out :’)

Character A Confesses Feelings Because They Think Character B is Unconscious: mmmm maybe Legolas to “unconscious” Gimli? And then Gimli cracks an eye open and is like “you really mean that, laddie?”

Character A doesn't know how to comfort Character B: cultural differences are intimidating

Character A falls asleep on B's shoulder: height difference :D especially if it’s Leg falling asleep on Gimli’s shoulder!

Character A thinks they're about to die and voices their feelings for B; but oops A survives: again I think this is probably Legolas confessing because he’s Dramatic

Character A's parents disapprove of Character B: this is the GOOD shit!! Thranduil disapproving of Gimli? Glóin disapproving of Legolas? excellent shit right there

Character comforts their platonic soulmate: OK so I am Particular about soulmates but in this scenario, let’s go with the soul-bond angle instead - Gimli getting used to a soul bond he never expected to have bc dwarf? Legolas instinctively comforting Gimli through a soul bond Gimli doesn’t know how to reciprocate with?

platonic cuddling for comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling: it’s just cute

Immortal Character A deals with B's mortality: Legolas in denial that Gimli is mortal, especially in Valinor (I don’t want Gimli dying fast in Valinor, but like...he will die eventually, you know?)

Neither comforter or comfortee will directly acknowledge that comforting is taking place: still in the transition from rivals to friends phase :)

~~~

Kíli/Tauriel (hurt Tauriel) Kíli/Tauriel (hurt Kíli) Fíli & Kíli (hurt Kíli) Fíli & Kíli (hurt Fíli) Fíli & Kíli (both hurt) There’s a good mix of brotherly prompts and Kiliel prompts here - and quite a few where Fíli and Tauriel work together for Kíli’s sake!

Aromantic character unsure how to comfort friend with relationship troubles, Character A doesn't know how to comfort Character B: Fíli comforting Kíli about his hopeless love for Tauriel

Anniversary of a traumatic experience: anniversary of BOTFA/almost dying, anniversary of Kíli getting poisoned

Character discovers their friends have been defending them behind their back: Tauriel discovers that some dwarves (including but not only Kíli - Fíli, Bofur, Óin are good options since they were together in Laketown) have been defending her from other, more prejudiced dwarves

Fighting to protect someone while injured yourself: Kiliel in BOTFA?

A's unrequited pining found to be requited while B helps them recover from serious injury: the athelas scene!!

Aftermath of Tragedy/Catastrophe: Tauriel post-BOTFA (canonverse), Fíli and Kíli in an AU where Thorin dies, Kíli and Tauriel in an AU where Fíli and/or Thorin dies but Kíli lives

A and B have to work together to help injured mutual loved one C: Fíli and Tauriel don’t always get along but they work together for Kíli’s sake :) - this could also work with the athelas scene

Being bathed while mutually pining: Tauriel bathing a sick Kíli? Kíli bathing an injured Tauriel? Bonus points for them both being very 👀 about each other’s bodies and how elves/dwarves are different than expected

Character A Confesses Feelings Because They Think Character B is Unconscious: Tauriel post-athelas scene confessing to Kíli after he’s already said his “she walks in starlight” thing

Character A panics/overreacts over B's minor hurt/illness: little Fíli overreacting about Kíli’s injury/illness? Kíli overreacting about Tauriel because he doesn’t know how lef healing works, or vice versa?

Character A realizes their love for character B when B is hurt/sick: the athelas scene!

Character A thinks they're about to die and voices their feelings for B; but oops A survives: Everyone Lives AU where Kíli confesses everything more plainly before he dies, but then survives

Character A's parents disapprove of Character B: Dís and Tauriel angst!!

Character won't stop getting up no matter how many times they get hit: Kíli protecting Tauriel! Tauriel protecting Kíli! Fíli protecting Kíli! Kíli protecting Fíli! Or heck, even Tauriel protecting Fíli for Kíli’s sake, or Fíli protecting Tauriel for Kíli’s sake!

Dying Character Comforts Already-Grieving Comfortee: Kíli dies in Tauriel’s arms 😭

Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies doesn't mean Nobody Hurt: please hurt Fíli very badly (I have a fic where he loses a hand, something along those lines) but Kíli is there for him and unwaveringly supportive

Fake Dating While Mutually Pining & One Partner Gets Hurt: Kiliel fake dating AU!!!

First kiss after almost dying: Kíli and Tauriel finally get to kiss and it’s super emotional! ooh maybe Kiss of Life, where Tauriel’s kiss brings Kíli back?

Fix-it - Character survives canonical death: kind of basic for this fandom, but I’m a sucker for it anyway. Maybe for this exchange, just one of the Durins lives and the others have to deal with it (with Tauriel there making things complicated, especially if it’s not Kíli who lives...)

Hair Brushing: hair is very important to both elves and dwarves, Kiliel miscommunication about this :D

Immortal Character A deals with B's mortality: Tauriel dealing with Kíli aging

Refusing to Leave Other Character's Side: Kíli standing with Tauriel despite Thorin threatening to exile him? Or just “I belong with my brother” 

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 10)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Wait For Me

Next Chapter: Kyoto-Tokyo Goodwill Event

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty <3

We are halfway through the story~ I never planned for this to be over 40k😅 but I've added some integral scenes in the later chapters. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 10: Invisible Ties

You couldn't sleep at all the few nights that followed. Mai and the others noticed your fatigue. They worriedly asked about you and let you cuddle into them and nap when you had some free time.

Miwa even let's you stay with her in her room at times, and it does help for a bit, but you don't want to bother them. And something was telling you it wasn't just regular fatigue.

You sometimes zone out in class and could barely stay awake during physical training. Eventually, you consulted Utahime about your possible insomnia.

You had a feeling it was tied to your feeling of unrest over your soulmate bond. It didn't help that your soulmark was stinging and all your heart wanted was to be with Noritoshi. There was a strong sense of unease over this bond.

You pulled down your sleeve to reveal the mark on your wrist flashing madly like a broken stoplight. You groaned and shoved your face into your pillow.

You've taken to wrapping a black velvet ribbon on it during the day, to not attract attention. If this light flashing keeps up, you might have to use a thicker fabric.

◇◇◇

Noritoshi was feeling the same uneasiness you did. He tried to shake it off and act as natural as he could around you, but even he was still shook at how quickly your negative emotions transmitted over the bond.

He was in his room and it was past 11. He tried to get to sleep, but found that he couldn’t so he tried studying. He was actually distracted for once, looking over his desk at the soulmate record and diaries of Hotaru and found himself reading them.

◇◇◇

On the other hand, you were restless in your room.

"I shouldn't bother Noritoshi senpai but..." You glanced over at your clock. 12:06am. Just past midnight, he was surely asleep. And yet you found yourself grabbing your pillow and blankets, and quietly making your way to his dorm room.

It was as if your body was moving under the command of your red strings. Pulling you back to the man who was responsible for messing you up like this.

You stood outside for a good 5 minutes, contemplating on whether or not you should knock. You haven't had a proper sleep in nights and it is starting to show in your studies.

Finally, you decided to quietly knock a few times. A beat passed and there was no response. You were about to walk away when the door opened. He was awake to your surprise.

He was in his dark navy Kimono, hair wrappings undone. Some strands of his hair fell over his eyes. At that moment, you thought to yourself that he was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“Can I help you y/n?” He was staring at your pillows and blankets.

Ah right. All of the sudden you feel so small and dumb for coming all the way here for no good reason. “Ah, Noritoshi senpai. Um, good evening.” You scrambled for words.

“I, uhm, I’m sorry I can’t really sleep- Ah what I mean to say is that I haven’t been sleeping well lately and I was wondering if I-” a cold gust of air blew past you and you shivered.

Noritoshi’s eyes widened at this and he pulled you into his room and closed the door behind you. He was so close, your face turned bright red. Way too close for comfort.

He seemed to get the hint and took a step back from you. “So you want to stay the night with me, is that what you’re getting at?”

You stayed still before slowly nodding, then looked up to see his reaction. His face was like stone, nothing was giving anything away. He didn’t look so happy to see you in your opinion.

“I’m sorry to disturb you…. I was gonna…. ask… if I ….. could … sleep …. on … your floor…, “ your voice was getting smaller and softer with each word, heart clenching painfully. Your fists tightly scrunched up in your blankets.

Suddenly he leaned down close to bring his face to yours and raised his hand. You flinched and closed your eyes tightly, expecting a “no.”

He cupped your cheeks gently and touched the bags of your eyes with his fingers. “You’ve been looking so exhausted lately, I was actually going to bring it up to you, but I wasn’t able to catch you earlier today. Just share the bed with me.”

You blinked. What. Did you hear that right?

You looked at him with wide eyes. His face was red too. “Is this okay with you? I really don’t want to overstep my boundaries… Last time….” you opened your mouth then realized you didn’t come here to dump all the shit that’s troubling your mind onto Noritoshi.

‘I’m sure he also has it hard on his end’. “Ah, never mind. Thank you so much senpai.” you smiled up at him.

Noritoshi’s chest hurts to see you fake a smile towards him. Time and time again, he’s loved watching how expressive and honest you are with your emotions.

He’s seen your genuine smiles more often than not. Seeing you like this just felt wrong.

“Tell me.” He said.

“Ah- it’s really nothing, I know you’ve been dealing with so much on your end, you’re also stressed, I’m just thankful that you’re letting me stay here in your room-” you were rambling without realizing it.

“Tell me. Don’t hold back. I can feel your unease through the soulmate bond.” he said sternly.

Noritoshi was starting to understand that you both had to work through the negative emotions each one feels together. That’s the reason for the soulmate bond. Ignoring it would be like dragging yourselves through mud.

You got the gist of his line of thought, having the same realization at the same time. You spoke cautiously so as not to offend him, "This has been bothering me. Last time in your room, it just felt like you were treating me as an outsider and it hurt. Like I thought that we were more than that, but maybe it's just me. Also, you once said I didn't know who you are. So I just…. Wanted to understand you better..."

Noritoshi’s eyes softened, and he just couldn’t resist you anymore. He pulled you towards his bed and set down your blankets and pillows. Then turned back to you, “Can I hug you?”

“Of course.” It was fun to see him blush and awkwardly hold his arms out towards you. You stepped into his space, grabbed one arm to throw around your shoulder, and the other around your waist. As he didn’t seem to know where to hold you.

"I do admit I have my secrets and I’m not ready to tell you about them yet. For that I apologize, you have to wait a bit longer until I’m more comfortable with you. But you're not an outsider to me my dear. You could never be. I also believe that we are more than friends, like I said before. I need you to trust me a little more. And I’ll do the same with you, I’ll trust you a bit more. I want it all and this soulbond, as long as it's you."

Your eyes widened and sparkled upon hearing his words. Your bond finally settled into something of a quiet hum underneath your veins. You hugged him tighter, which he smiled at.

"I'm sorry, I should have explained to you how I felt senpai." You whispered sadly. But he just hushed you and held your hand. "It's okay, next time we can do better. Let’s start anew shall we?"

You spoke out a soft yes in response. It was honestly still a disjointed relationship. Like you’re both just two parts of a whole trying to find their way to each other.

"Let's face the truth. This is really an unconventional relationship. We can't really abide by the normal fall in love then confess situation can we?" You said.

"Why can't we?" Noritoshi asked, looking a bit surprised. "It's unconventional and gives us a fair share of problems, that's true. But we can still fall in love and confess the normal way. With time." He added.

You just hummed and nodded.

You pulled back from him, “Anywayss, Why are you still awake at this hour anyways senpai? It's bedtime.”

“Reading the diary of a man who was my past life.” Your eyes widened at that. “Let’s read a bit of it together, then we can sleep?” You nodded.

He set up the pillows so both of you could lean side by side in bed while reading the diary entries. The story was not a nice one. Hotaru eloping with his lover, on the run from their families, curses and curse users. Constantly taking odd jobs to get money, and hiding in old inns. It sounded so exhausting.

You found yourself looking over at Noritoshi every now and then, wanting to lean closer, your eyelids getting heavier.

He turned to you then looked at the clock. 12:47am.

No classes tomorrow, since it's the weekend but you looked terribly sleepy. So he closed the book, set it aside. Closed the lights before climbing in beside you.

You stretched out like a cat before tucking yourself under the sheets. "Sleep time??"

He smiled at you. "Yeah." He laid down beside you, and you were both lying on your sides, facing each other.

"Good night darling." He whispered. Your face heated up but you thanked the darkness that he couldn't see your blush at the pet name.

"Good night Nori- ah senpai." You whispered back.

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Drop the Senpai, just call me Noritoshi."

"Okay…. Noritoshi."

"Mmmm."

2 minutes passed, but you're both still staring at each other.

"Noritoshi."

"What is it?"

"Nothing much… Just saying your name feels nice. Can we hold hands while we sleep?"

He chuckled and reached to clasp both your hands in his. Your mark has long stopped flashing wildly. It's now a warm dark red glow.

You smiled at your marks.

"Can I kiss you? Properly?" He asked hesitantly.

Oh. You would like that very much. Your heart is literally in your throat, beating so furiously Noritoshi could probably feel it.

You could feel some of his stronger emotions through the bond. He really wants to hold you in his arms, you realized. You never felt so bare with another person before. He could probably feel your emotions too, so no point in hiding it.

As you nodded, he slowly crawled over you, caging you in with his arms. Slow, he was too slow.

You grabbed the front of his Kimono and pulled his lips down to yours. His eyes widened, but soon closed shut as he finally finally got to taste you. He was careful not to crush you as he pressed you into the sheets for a deeper kiss.

You both found yourselves running your hands over the other's body. His tongue entered your mouth and played with yours. Dangerous. Your hands tugging at his hair. It was getting dangerous.

Noritoshi quickly pulled back, chest heaving against yours, and tucked you under his chin. His heartbeat was beating furiously before quickly calming down.

"Darling I'm-" how could he tell you that he wants you right now. This wasn’t good, he had to hold himself back. He kissed you on the forehead.

"Shhhh, I'm right here." he whispered sweet nothings into your ears as you whined out at the loss of his lips on yours. "Time for bed as you said. Good night." He kissed you once more on the cheek.

You pouted and looked up to see him cuddle you with such a soft expression. So you relented, "Okay. Good night Noritoshi." And fell into a deep sleep in his arms.

◇◇◇

"Nnnghhh…."

"Mmnghhh…."

…. You opened your eyes to see Noritoshi groaning above you. It's like 3am, in the middle of the night, and you accidentally shoved your knee in his gut.

He was still asleep, but he could feel the pain. You hurriedly retracted your knee, reaching over to pat him on the back. Then moving to stroke him gently on the head.

As he finally settled back into sleep, you subconsciously moved forward to tuck your head under his neck. He is feverishly warm and comfortable. It’s gonna be hard going to bed without him.

And as you fell back into a deep sleep in his arms, Noritoshi, still asleep, wrapped his arms tighter around you and then continued dozing off.

◇◇◇

You felt yourself wake up with the best night’s sleep you’ve had in years. And that was saying something.

Noritoshi was still sleeping. He looked like he was having a rather nice dream. You traced the outline of his features with your fingers until his eyes snapped open.

You jumped back, shrieking and almost falling off the edge of the bed. But Noritoshi had fast reflexes, hand reaching out to grab your waist and pull you close to him. Your face smacked into his chest.

"Morning." His voice was so deep and raspy, you shivered at the sound. His eyes darkened.

"Morning senpai." You whispered, feeling so small.

"Do you make it a habit to play with other people’s faces while they’re asleep?" He whispered.

Goosebumps prickled along your skin as he stroked your arms slowly. "Ahh, I didn’t know you were awake, I’m sorry." You blushed.

Both of your stomachs were kind enough to growl and save your sorry ass. Noritoshi laughed at this.

"My darling needs some breakfast. I'll have the Kamo household prepare and deliver some for us." He said as he reached for his phone.

"Noritoshi, you don't have to, I don't want to be a bother really." You tugged at his sleeves.

“I already said you're never a bother to me haven't I?” He slumped over you as he typed out a text.

You groaned from underneath, "You're heavy Noritoshi."

"That's to stop you from leaving my room without breakfast." He deadpanned.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

[shadowfae]

Hi im pretty sure I'm kin but I have doubts and shit because I have multiple kintypes. How do you know you're kin?

Okay, I’m home, time to jump right in. So, we’re gonna do this in two parts like we did the first guide I did on this. Part one: What Is Otherkinity, What’s Related To It: A Crash Course To Terminology. This is gonna be so we’re clear from the getgo on things. Part two: A Few Methods That May or May Not Work To Figuring Shit Out. This is some of the ways I know - but your experience will be deeply personal and unique, so don’t worry if you don’t stick to any one method, and it’s not about following the method so much as it is finding the answers and being satisfied with what you know.

This guide, however, will not go over most community things, like history and culture. That requires [groaning noises] sourcing things, and I hate doing homework. That you can hunt down from folks who have been here much longer than me. It also isn’t a comprehensive guide on experiences, because trying to mention everything would quite possibly kill me and requires a lot more teamwork and surveys and interviews and chasing down books that are no longer in print. So yeah, don’t expect everything.

I could just link the first guide I made, but it’s good to make a new one a few years later. Under the readmore, but let’s go!

Part One: Otherkinity, Related Experiences, and A Quick Guide To Terminology.

Side note - this is not a comprehensive guide of the terminology, there’s far too many terms and I am literally writing this entirely off the top of my head. If I forget stuff, don’t @ me unless it’s a glaring issue. :p 

Otherkinity: An ontological experience in which a person identifies wholly or partially as a nonhuman or fictional entity, on a nonphysical, involuntary, and profound level. Every one of those words is important. It is not necessarily spiritual or psychological, though it can be. You ID as the thing, not with it. It is you. You are the thing. It can be nonhuman or fictional or both, but not neither because that just leaves humanity. Some identify partially, and some identify wholly as nunhuman/fictional. I don’t ID entirely as nonhuman, but I do identify wholly as fictional, for example. (I’ll get into that later). It’s nonphysical, you can’t physically shapeshift, obviously. It’s involuntary, you don’t choose it. This isn’t a roleplay, this is identity at its base. It can be changed, but not easily, and not really voluntarily. It is also profound. It is a part of you, it’s never going away, you aren’t exactly who you are without it.

Therianthrope: An ontological experience in which a person identifies wholly or partially as a nonhuman, physically real Earth-based animal, on a nonphysical, involuntary, and profound level. Otherkin, but for Earth animals, like dogs or dinosaurs or bugs. 

Fictionkin(d):An ontological experience in which a person identifies wholly or partially as a fictional entity, on a nonphysical, involuntary, and profound level. Often considered the other side of the Venn diagram to therianthropy. This is where you’re a fictional character or entity or member of a fictional species. Harry Potter or a Pikachu, it’s all fictionkin. 

Fictionkind is a bit of an older term, and there has been a push to use it more as ‘fictionkin’ has seen more use amongst those who think it’s a form of roleplay, trading cards, or who have figured out that they can misuse community terms into their purity cults in order to control others. As well, otherkind was one of our first terms, but you’ll rarely see it used. They both share an ending of -kin, which is not from ‘kin as in your blood family’ but -kind, as in mankind, elvenkind, so thus otherkind, fictionkind. It’s not a relating to, it’s a being of.

Theriomythic:An ontological experience in which a person identifies wholly or partially as a mythical nonhuman animal, on a nonphysical, involuntary, and profound level. This is for those of us who are unicorns, griffons, dragons, etc, all the nonhuman animals that do not physically exist but are not necessarily under what’s considered fiction. It’s one of the prettiest words we have, in my opinion. 

Phytanthrope: An ontological experience in which a person identifies wholly or partially as a plant-based lifeform, on a nonphysical, involuntary, and profound level. Otherkin, but you’re a plant. I’m including it here because it’s a very pretty-sounding word, and although not as common, certainly real and not something you might recognize. It’s completely interchangeable with ‘plantkin’, but it sounds cool, so.

Otherhearted: An ontological experience in which a person identifies wholly or partially with a nonhuman or fictional entity, on a nonphysical, involuntary, and profound level. Like otherkin, but you are not the thing, you ID with the thing. It is close to you, it is what you’d be if you weren’t what you are. The difference, to put it in layman’s terms, otherkin is #me and otherhearted is #god i wish that were me. But like, way more profound. Are you the thing, or is it just incredibly close to you? Both are a part of your identity, just slightly different. 

Synpath: Like otherhearted, and was made by someone who didn’t know the word for otherhearted. It caught on and the difference is mostly accepted as linguistic: if it’s a general noun it’s a hearttype, if it’s a proper noun and thus is a name or requires a capital, it’s a synpath. Tl;dr: you can be unicornhearted, but you’re a Harry Potter synpath.

Otherlink: An ontological experience in which a person identifies wholly or partially with a nonhuman or fictional entity, on a nonphysical and voluntary level. This one’s a little more recent. It is like a kintype, but it is voluntary, you can choose it, and it doesn’t necessarily have to be a Big Thing like otherkinity. You will also see ‘copinglink’, which actually came first - that one’s an otherlink made to cope with something. (Both terms were made by @/who-is-page, aka a person you Need to be following if you’re gonna be on the tumblr community with us.) Otherlink and copinglink are incredibly handy terms, and when you need ‘em, you’re glad they’re there.

Shifting: An experience in which something ‘shifts’ in the mental or emotional shape to a different state of being, related to otherkinity and/or any related experiences. This one is such a common term, and hard to properly define without going into nuances. Mental shifts are when your mental state shifts to align better with a kintype, aura shifts are when your aura does that, shadow shifts are some sort of astral projection, astral shifts involve the astral realm, berserk shifts are extreme mental shifts that typically involve violence or loss of reason, etc, etc. Most of the time, if someone says they’re in an X shift, they mean mental shift. 

Multiplicity: An ontological experience in which a person is not alone in their body. Before someone @s me, I know it’s badly worded here. This is DID, OSDD-1, and endogenic systems, alongside a few other things. A kintype is you, a multiple is not you but also in your body. I won’t be going over this much as I am not multiple, but it’s good to know about. It’s not otherkinity, nor really related, but if you’re gonna learn about otherkinity, it helps to know about multiplicity. Also see soulbonding and tulpamancy.

Alterhumanity: An overarching community term for all those who do not feel completely, 100% human; or rather those who feel an altered version of humanity. Basically, someone got really tired of saying ‘otherkin, otherhearted, otherlinks, OSDD-1 and DID, endogenic systems, etc etc’ and made a term for everyone. It’s controversial on just who it defines as it also includes transhumanists (those who wish to physically become nonhuman, even if they ID as human) and many other things in a gray area, but as someone who’s gonna be typing otherkin, otherhearted, otherlinks, systems, etc etc a whole lot in this post? It’s handy. 

Phantom Limbs: An experience in which a brain maps out limbs that do not physically exist. This is originally a medical term, but it’s also incredibly useful. It refers to all limbs that don’t exist but you’re still pretty sure are there. Amputees experience this, and you know the rubber hand experiment where they hide your arm and trick your brain into thinking a plastic arm is your arm, and then hit the plastic arm and you feel pain? Yeah, phantom limbs. There’s also supernumerary phantom limbs, which is the Extra Bits like fangs and wings and horns and tails. Astral limbs, however, refer to the astral realm, and that’s a magic and spirit work thing, not an otherkin thing.

Paratype: An identity that is related to one’s alterhumanity but does not precisely adhere to any known definition. This was made by @/aestherians as a ‘fuck it you’re related and I don’t really know how but you’re worth mentioning’. It’s a ‘misc’ term, when you’re not sure if it’s a hearttype or something else but is important to your identity. It doesn’t always mean you’re questioning it, but it’s there. It’s new and does need to catch on, but it’s pretty handy.

ID: Short for ‘identity’ or ‘identify’. Occasionally used as shorthand. Be wary of someone who insists that an ID is ‘more you’ than a kintype. A kintype is an ID. So is a hearttype, or a linktype, or anything else. ‘ID’ is just an umbrella term that has been occasionally misused.

Kintype / Theriotype / Fictotype / Hearttype / Linktype: The noun versions of being otherkin, therianthrope, fictionkin, otherhearted, and otherlink/copinglink respectively. You are otherkin, you have a kintype, you are fictionkin, you have a fictotype, etc. If I catch you using ‘kins’ after this I will eat you.

Awakening / Questioning / Kinfirmation: A few terms to describe one’s journey through understanding their alterhumanity / otherkinity. Awakening is generally the moment you start feeling alterhuman or otherkin. For some of us, we’ve always been like this, for others, we just suddenly notice it. Questioning is whole journey from awakening to understanding and being sure of things. You’re never really done questioning, but when you’re happy with it, technically you’re done. Kinfirmation is a controversial term, sure. It’s otherkin + confirmation. Basically it means the opposite of awakening - the moment you’re sure, you’re done questioning, you’ve confirmed that this is a kintype. Awakening is how you start questioning, kinfirmation is how you finish. It’s controversial because it sounds stupid. But I like puns, so I’m keeping it. (You can slap ‘kin’ into any word and make it hilarious. That’s why I use a ‘kinformation’ tag. :p )

Banned / False Terms: kinning, kins, kinnies, etc - just don’t. Please, just don’t. This is how you make sure nobody takes you seriously and you get dismissed as a troll. ‘Kinning’ as a verb implies that otherkinity is a choice, which is prevalent and dangerous misinformation, and most of the community says burn it with fire - and for good reason. ‘Kins’ is just what people say when they don’t know the word ‘kintypes’, and implies you know very little about this. ‘Kinnies’ is a term made by antikin that’s quite controversial. On one hand, it’s hilarious to use to spit back at them, on the other hand it’s rude, on one foot like ‘kins’ it makes you look stupid, and on the other foot for a fair amount of folks it looks too much like ‘tr*nnies’ to give anything but a gut reaction of horror. (‘Kinnie’ is not a slur and does not hold the same societal weight, but as a gut reaction if you’ve had ‘tr*nny’ thrown at you, ‘kinnie’ isn’t going to make you feel all that great either.)

.

Part Two: A Few Methods That May or May Not Work To Questioning Kintypes and Related Alterhumanity.

So we’ve learned terms, and now there should be little confusion in what we’re talking about here. If you were expecting a step-by-step list, you will absolutely never get one, not from me or from anyone else.

Your journey through awakening, questioning, and ‘kinfirmation will be your own. It will be unique. You will never start in the same place as someone else, you will never finish in exactly the same way. The questions you ask will not be the questions I will ask. You do not need to justify it to me. You only need justify it to yourself. A second opinion always helps, sure, in case you missed something, but it’s not my job to tell you what you are. That’s yours.

So let’s take a look. At this point, one should hope you’ve awakened. It has occurred to you that you’re not quite human, you’re not quite what you physically are. You are aware that this is not a common experience. There are lots of things that could draw you to this. Homesickness is the big one. Memories, sometimes. Habits you shouldn’t have. Methods of thinking that don’t have a reason that makes sense. A feeling of belonging, of hiraeth. Your identity is not entirely your experiences in this life, this moment. Shifts are also a pretty big indicator. And so, so much more that I can’t possibly put a name to.

You know you’ve got Stuff going on here, but you don’t know what, it may be multiple things, it may be one thing. You said it may be multiple things, and fuck, it sure might be. It is for me, and lemme tell you, when those things like combining that makes it harder to sort them out. But you kind of have to, if you’re here and asking these questions.

You’re done questioning when you’re happy. You don’t need to know everything, and tbh you never will know everything. That’s okay. You just need to be happy with what you’re sure of. 

So you’re not entirely human, or you think you might be fictional. Shit happens. But you’ve got to figure out what you are, if you’re not that. For some of us, it’s obvious. For some, not so much. I’m the sort of ‘stare it in the face and not recognize it’ person, because I’m stupid, but that’s a way to do it. 

Your first step, of course, should be to take every sign you’ve got of this, every indicator that makes you think the craziest thing of all, ‘oh shit I’m not human’ / ‘oh shit I’m fictional’. Because kid, this isn’t a conclusion you immediately come to. Think about it, for a moment. If you’re actually here, with this conclusion in mind, there’s a reason you think that this is it. So gather all the reasons you’ve got, notice a few more and grab those too, and stick them in a box. Or write them down. Just put them somewhere and take a look at what you’ve got.

Now figure out if X habit here is related to Y homesickness of Z aesthetic, if that’s a Normal Human Thing or a Odd Alterhuman Thing. The lines will blur. You will have something that’s a Normal Human Thing, but in context is possibly an Odd Alterhuman Thing. Note that it’s both depending on perspective, and continue.

Try not to define stuff too much. Before you say you’ve got wings as supernumerary limbs - do you have wings, or just a weight on your back? Because those ‘wings’ might be wires, or a saddle, or gods know what else. Note that it’s a weight, check to see if it’s not a normal human thing medical issue, that you think it’s wings, what it feels like other than a weight, if it’s just there like clothes or if you can feel through it like your hands, and whatever else you’ve got.

You should probably figure out what you’re working with before you start putting it together. If you’re sorting by colour or by shape, essentially. Question things. Do you know it’s this because that’s just your first reaction, or do you know because that’s what it is and you’re not arguing the sky is blue? 

Do not, and I repeat, do not overkill it. Keep questioning to a quiet thing, if you must sit down and dedicate time, do not do more than an hour or two. Brains do confirmation bias. You’ll see shit that isn’t there, or make things up to fit the puzzle you think you just solved. When you do sit down to question, write down exactly how you got from point A to point D. Take some time away after, and revisit it, see if point C still holds up on its own.

Try not to question too little and assume things, try not to question too much and make yourself full of doubt. Some things just are, okay? You don’t have to convince yourself it’s not That, that you aren’t sure, that it can’t possibly be. Sometimes it’s just like That, and that’s okay. It’s all right to accept the impossible. If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be here. If it wasn’t, you’d be dismissing me. Don’t take things at face value, but sometimes, what they are inside is exactly what it says on the tin.

This is going to be long, and great at times, and sucky at times, and downright confusing. If you turn to divination like tarot and pendulums, ensure they work before using them on this, and like all things, take with a grain of salt. Tarot that someone else does on you? Yeah, okay, it’ll work. Asking someone on the internet to use a pendulum for you? No. Do not. That is not going to give you a good answer on anything.

If you can do it for a different part of your identity, you can do it for this - as a decent rule of thumb. 

You may want to ask why you’re like this, if it’s spiritual or psychological or how it happened. Key word may. A lot of us do ask why, and sometimes find answers, but if you’re “Idk, I’m just an elf, don’t ask me,” then that is also completely fine! So long as you’re happy with that answer. 

Multiple kintypes can make questioning an utter nightmare. Tackle them one at a time, use elimination methods, check if X is a symptom of Y kintype or Z hearttype or gods know what else. Don’t be afraid to admit you don’t effin’ know, and deal with it later. You won’t get this overnight. You’ll be questioning for at least a month. Anything less and ehhh, you sure, buddy? You might be right, but under a month and you might’ve missed something critical - it just isn’t enough time to be absolutely sure. Like marrying someone, this takes time to understand and learn. Bad example, but it works.

You may be questioning for years. Happens to the best of us. My friend Gryph spent five years asking ‘is this a hearttype or a kintype’ and was only sure after I used the ‘#god i wish that were me versus #me’ comparison and it made enough sense that they figured it out on the spot. That was like, three years ago. It was actually kind of funny considering Gryph was like, twice my age at the time. 

Point is, this takes time, sometimes you just know, sometimes you really don’t. It’s weird, it’s unique, it’s personal, it’s an adventure and if you’re here you’ll probably be glad to go through it. Some of us are actually not happy with being otherkin, and would trade it away if they could. This is also normal. Not as well-spoken about, for obvious reasons, but it happens.

The key is introspection. It’s not divination, it’s not what someone else says - though that can help. It’s introspection. It’s about you, it’s what you are. It’s what’s right, what is true to your story. It’s a truth of the world, something you understand a split second before it defines itself, something that really just doesn’t give itself easily over to words.

There’s no step by step guide to otherkinity, to alterhumanity. Nobody could make one. But if you’re sure that this rings true, that this is the key to a part of you, then to you I say only two things.

Welcome to our subculture. I hope you find what you’re looking for.

Luteia 💚

[catsitta]

Handle With Care - Post Mortem

When I first started writing Handle with Care, it was going to be 100 chapters long and there were a few key differences in the plot. These changes occurred generally slowly as I gained a better understanding of my world and characters, while some shifted dramatically due to my feeling they were thematically inappropriate for the story I wanted to tell. So with the conclusion of the main fic and its various continuations, I decided to detail a little more in how I approached a 100 word daily drabble fic, and why certain events occurred or why certain characters played certain roles. This post is mostly for the folks out there who like all the nitpicky background information that goes around in the author’s head while writing.

100 WORDS A DAY

In choosing to write 100 words a day, I gave myself both a goal and a challenge. 100 words is often little more than a paragraph. Maybe two. I often found myself writing on my commute into work or during lunch on my phone, because while 1000 might feel overwhelming, 100 is not. Right? Yet some days I found just enough time to type up 100 words between work and other commitments (October was interesting, since I did Inktober and well as Promptober, on top of my usual working schedule). But the most challenging part was not writing 100 words. Writing 100 words was easy. Writing ONLY 100 words was where things became tricky.

In my original intentions for this fic, scenes were not supposed to span over multiple chapters. Each drabble was to be a self contained snapshot of time. But as the story became more emotionally centered, I shifted away from that idea and focused more on making each drabble exist as a chapter. Chapters can have cliffhangers. But they need to communicate a thought. An idea. A feeling. With 100 words a day, my objective became: Progress the story in a meaningful way or communicate some important information to the audience. With 100 words, there was often little room for getting lost in details.

Now one my ask again, why 100?

100 is the number of words in the definition of a drabble. 100, again, is an easy minimum to reach. But when you are used to writing 2-3k word chapters, flexibility is minimal and you have to decide what needs to be said, and what you were saying to fill space. And I found it a wonderful learning experience and valuable exercise as a writer. I’ve attempted to start drabble fics in the past, but rarely did they ever get past a couple chapters before I would get frustrated by the limitations. Because let’s be honest. Writing a 25,000 word story, 100 words at a time, is a test of one’s patience as much as anything else.

THE STORY

Handle with Care was originally supposed to be pure romantic comedy with just a splash of darker undertones in the background for color. But as much as I love fluffy comedies, as I wrote, there were conflicts that I didn’t feel should be glossed over. As some of my long term readers and commenters will know, I’m terribly fond of bitter with my sweet. Angst with my fluff. The bad things in life make the good all the brighter. And conflict drives a story forward.

So what changed?

There were many different variations on how Sans ended up raising Papyrus alone. Some took our overbearing science dad, Gaster, and outright cast him in the role of a villain as opposed to a mid story antagonist. Straight into, why aren’t you in jail, territory. Others barely featured Gaster at all, as he was disconnected from Sans after his son didn’t end up pursuing a ‘productive’ career in the sciences. There were even a couple considered drafts where Papyrus and Edge did have another parent and the reason Sans was distrusting and cagey was because of a broken Soulbond. (And for those of you who were Web/Sans theorists, well, there was a version where you weren’t wrong! Sans started an affair off with Web after the LOADs began as a sort of ‘regain control of his life’ thing.)

What may interest folks is that the story was originally not supposed to end with a wedding and a house in the planning. The happy ending was going to be less sugar and more height of the moment drama. Around the time Frisk intimidates Red into silence, she was going to instead start him on the path to discovering answers. No confessions from Sans. No journals. Instead Red goes on the hunt for clues and gets fragments of the story from different people, especially Gaster and Frisk. It was all quite emotional, but the pacing felt off, and I felt it would be more rewarding if Sans grew as a character and he was the one to confess all his secrets.

Another altered thread was Red being only Web’s son. Early, early on, Red was the product of Web and some other monster. I even considered that monster having died in birth with Edge. But I scrapped that quickly, and decided that instead, Edge was Pap’s twin, and that the grim mood Web was in, was because of what he saw as well as what he remembered from past timelines. He almost watched his friend and coworker dust in his arms. Properly traumatic, eh?

There is a completely cut scene that I may write in the spin off that goes more into detail about Red’s similarities to Gaster, and Sans’ to Web, and how people often choose partners that are like their parental figures. You may ask. Wait. What do you mean? Well, Webdings didn’t smoke. He drank. Red, despite having dabbled with the stuff, is never shown to drink recreationally or get drunk in the fic, for more reasons than being underage to do so. However, it is very lightly implied that Sans’ coping method of choice is alcohol, though Red quickly quashes this habit after the drunkenness incident. Now, who else smokes? Gaster. Sans doesn’t like that Red smokes (for obvious reasons it reminds him of his father and Red does try to quit in the fic, though ends up falling back on it when stressed.) There are other similarities if you look close. It’s one of the reasons that Gaster and Red don’t get along. They’re both strong personalities, and can be pretty quick to pass judgement on someone.

THE CHARACTERS

As many folks picked up on, Handle with Care, has multiple meanings. It is a moving pun based on the CAUTION: FRAGILE | Handle with Care, labels on the sides of some boxes. It is also one of the main themes of the fic itself. Everyone in the story is a person with their own pasts and pains, which makes them fragile in different ways. And some of them even represent different types of relationships and people we encounter in our lives.

Red - Our protagonist. He’s a young man picking up the pieces of his life after his father’s apparent suicide, left to raise his baby brother when he was only sixteen. He’s the child of an alcoholic and forced to take on an adult role too young. As a result, he has a few unhealthy coping mechanisms, struggles with his temper and his sense of self worth. But he’s the one that got out. That put his life on the straight-and-narrow.

Sans - The love interest. Grew up young from the sheer expectations in his life. He was never without, but when the LOADs happened, he cracked under a lifetime’s worth of pressure. He broke down. Stopped trusting anyone, including himself. And very likely only kept himself from Falling because of Papyrus. Much of his struggles is based on the single mothers who would say that their child is what saved them or got them through those darkest time by just existing. He is also the individual who was groomed for success that ended up with absoluting no proper coping skills because of his rigid upbringing.

Papyrus - The optimist. He stays positive through everything. Everything and everyone can do better, and he sees the best in all situations. But he also has a responsible streak with an urge to organize everything (clean/cook/no desserts before dinner). His relationship with Sans could have very well ended up problematic, with Paps taking on a parental role for his parent early on in his life.

Edge - The pessimist. Edge is the other side of the coin from Papyrus. While his world view is often just as rigid, he is emotional. While it is implied he was always a fussy baby, he’s very sensitive to change, and shows that children are capable of picking up on things that the adults in their lives try to hide. His abandonment issues run deep, and will cause him to lash out until he is older and learns better self control and comes to terms with his father’s death. It is not uncommon for children of single parent homes to become resentful, if not at their present parent, but at the one that is gone. It is difficult for Edge to separate his father’s death, and Red’s fights with Sans, away from himself, and his self-centric view of the world.

Gaster - The (sympathetic?) antagonist. There are points where you love to hate him, and other times, you have to step back. He’s the authoritarian parent that dictated most of his child’s life up until that child literally vanished and became a hermit for a while. It isn’t through callousness or unkindness that he acts this way, but in what he believes is the opposite. He struggles with emotions, especially showing them, an example of how often older generations, especially males, often don’t/can’t/won’t show emotional vulnerability. He wants the best for Sans and those he cares about, even if he often fails to show it properly.

Web - The dead dad. Red’s relationship with Web is complicated. He remembers when Web was a brilliant man, even if not the most fatherly of fathers. But he also laid witness to his fall from grace as well, his drinking habit the most evident. His role is ambiguous much of the story, though he’s left behind hole. His death is the catalyst to a number of the story’s events, and Red’s struggle with him in death is to show the complicated feelings people may have when they lose a loved one who may have not been the best person. Sans’ relationship with him was more to highlight how far he’d actually fallen in the end from where he used to be.

Toriel - The mother. She is a maternal presence in many character’s lives. Her mothering is revealed to be related to her inability to conceive a child. Infertility is a common problem for women. She goes on to foster, babysit and even adopt after Asriel is born. She also an example of the powerful bonds we form with others and how sometimes families are found. Toriel was as much of a mother to Sans as she was Asriel.

The Fallen Humans - The catalyst. If Frisk didn’t exist, there wouldn’t be a story. After all, she was the child that climbed the mountain, starting the events of Undertale. Frisk and Chara both are implied to have troubled pasts, which lead them to being vulnerable to that idea of absolute power corrupts absolutely. The meddle. They are often selfish and don’t consider the consequences of their actions, and when they do, there is a sense of it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters when you can manipulate reality itself. But where Frisk possess a sense of guilt for what happened with Sans, Chara does not, and even outright tells Red that he is willing to do anything to accomplish his goals (even if that means hurting everyone else). Kris is a ‘dreamer’, and while he has more control over tweaking the events that play out, he is far less calloused by RESETS and LOADS. He just wants to be close to his brother Asriel, as well as help his ‘siblings’ find a sense of belonging.

Undyne - The Protagonist’s parallel. A child of divorce, which for monsters often leads to trauma and death, she is left to be raised by Gerson. She’s angry, resentful and prone to get in fights. Red often compares her to Edge, but can also empathise deeply with her troubles. At fourteen she is old enough to understand the reality of the situation, but also young enough to be deeply affected by the changes. Given the rarity of divorce, it is implied that her home life was unstable before the events of the story. Red tries to help her as he never got help himself.

Asriel - The miracle child. Mostly a background character. Asriel’s main connections are to Kris and the Dreemurs. He was the child that a couple struggling with fertility finally conceived. His being born, however, resulted Gaster creating Red for Webdings.

Asgore - The powerful person. Gaster and Toriel both have names that are impactful in the community, but Asgore is the founder of Dreemur Medical and Biotech. He was the King of Monsters. Despite his passive role, he influences many of the character’s choices and actions but simply EXISTING as a person of importance. Gaster tries to literally create viable monster cloning/fertility enhancement methods for him which lead to Sans and Red being born. His inviting Web to work with determination led to the creation of the Machine.

Gerson - The substitute parent. His main role in the story is as a family friend of Undyne’s and in the end, her new parental figure. She resents him and he takes care of her. He cannot replace what she’s lost, but he tries to provide her a future. A hard role to fill in a child’s life.

Grillby - The old friend. Grillby plays are far more subtle part. He’s survived a broken Soulbond, he’s friends with Sans, and through every up-and-down, he’s remained open to Sans when he comes back around. Sometimes as children we form friendships with adults that are just as strong as those we form with our peers. This is true for Sans.

There are a few more characters that show up mostly for color and world building but don’t play a significant part in pushing the themes of the story.

CONCLUSION

Would I do this again? Yes. I am planning on continuing the 100 word trend in the Pre-Sequel This Way Up. It may be truer to the spirit of drabbles since we will have a lot more ground to cover since it will be telling Sans’ history. We’ll get to learn more about Gaster, Webdings, the Dreemurs, Grillby and the Fallen Humans. And for those of you who want to know more about the HwC boys as they are? Moving Day will fill in the blanks. And I also promised a sequel. Bubblewrap Blues will take place significantly in the future and center around a certain aptly named skeleton and the edgy boy that likes to get coffee in his cafe.

I’m pleased with how the story turned out.

I never expected the reaction and the feedback. To those of you who commented and kudosed. Thank you. And to those who quite literally followed me from the start, reading and commenting near every day if not every day? You’re extra amazing. Thank you. Thank you so much.