#one day i will find my soulmate an this will be a distant memory. a scar that maybe tingles a little. but it doesnt hurt anymore

[darsynia]

Fate and Fairy Tales (Stephen Strange/Reader)

MCU Masterlist | Steve | Bucky | Tony

Summary: The Sorcerer Supreme spoke your soulmate Words while the magic of Kamar Taj healed your life-threatening wounds. Overwhelmed, you seek to hide your bond and save him from a lifetime of protecting someone as ordinary as you. The time comes to spend a week at the Sanctum, usually a reward for someone at your training level-- but will you make it through with your secrets intact?

Words/Warnings: 4,500 // none

This is a gift for the lovely @sobeautifullyobsessed, I do hope you enjoy! Here's an excerpt to tempt anyone else who might be interested! gif by @doctorstrangegifsparadise

“What do you hope to gain by your silence?” he asks, a tone of warning hovering just out of reach.

You’d already decided that pure silence has been like a scarlet Cloak to Strange’s bullish nature, so you hold up the microfiber cloth you’d been using on the window and address it, rather than him.

“What do you think, scrubcloth, was I looking to gain something by my silence, or simply enjoying my time in a sacred, meaningful space?”

His derisive scoff tickles the back of your neck, and you shiver. Suddenly he’s not an adversary but a man , one that’s technically yours for the taking. This is exactly what you were trying to avoid. His next words heighten your sense of danger.

“You are scheming, and I will find out why.”

Fate and Fairy Tales

Routine is important in Kamar Taj. You’re not much of a routine girl, but you’ve done your best to make up for that, something that’s gotten you recognized as a hard worker. There’s only one thing you’ve managed to dodge so far: a week-long assignment at the New York Sanctum. It’s practically a vacation, with easy work as a caretaker for the Artifacts, scheduled magic use to keep the defensive shielding active, and the opportunity to study some of the books that don’t leave the premises. The real draw for most of your colleagues is personalized instruction from the Sorcerer Supreme. 

That's the part you’re worried about.

With your head down, you head for the library, crossing the courtyard by a less-traveled path. Despite this, the silver-threaded soulmate Words on your ankle itch under the leather band you’ve covered them with. Usually that means that Strange is in the vicinity. Though you don’t remember the catastrophic attack that brought you to the sanctuary for rescue, you do remember the flurry of magic and healing that followed.

The only face you recall is that of the tall, attractive man in mystical robes bending close to your crumpled form. He’d rested a steady hand on your cheek and spoken with authority. Look at me--you’re safe now.

They say soulmate Words burn at the magical moment they’re first spoken. You wouldn’t know; the agony you’d felt on that day has been mercifully removed from your mind; you and your magical healers had agreed to wipe your memories of the events leading up to your arrival. That indelible moment is all that’s left. Everything before your life in Kamar Taj has faded into a distant haze, a rare but warned-for side-effect.

A different kind of magic vibrates in your ankle, so much so that you stop and press your back against one of the columns at the edge of the courtyard, closing your eyes. Strange has to be very close by, but you’re off the usual path, and you’ve never spoken to him, so you know his Words won’t buzz from your presence. It isn’t that you’re afraid or repelled by him, far from it. He’s a charismatic leader, powerful to the extreme, and very handsome. You? You don’t even remember the person you were before learning to attune the Mystic Arts. 

There’s no way to know what the Fates had in mind when they branded the two of you, but you suspect you’ve fallen far short of their plans. As a wealthy, talented surgeon, Dr. Stephen Strange was always out of your league, but now he’s the Sorcerer Supreme for a powerful cadre of magic users. It’s practically your duty to see that your ships pass quietly in the night, and you’ve done your best to see him as nothing more than the aloof leader of your mystic order. Besides, he deserves a partner as powerful, notable, and charismatic as he is.

To cover the resonant sound of his voice as Strange’s group walks by, you cast a sound-muffling incantation. Soon, the agitation in your ankle fades, replaced by the dull, hollow feeling of a missed connection. 

Each time this happens, the ache lasts longer, meaning you’ll be in agony by the end of a week spent in Strange’s company. It’s going to be a nightmare to deal with that pain and the constant vigilance of avoiding directly speaking to your soulmate. The exhaustion alone might put you in danger of a slip up. Now that you can’t avoid your Sanctum assignment, the only thing left to do is persuade the Powers That Be to let you spend your time there under a Silence spell, preferably without explaining why.

Unfortunately, that Power is likely to be Wong, and he’s not known to Be all that lenient.

“--and that’s why I intend to spend the next two weeks under a Silence Vow,” you say, hoping your constructed excuses sound plausible.

Wong hasn’t said more than ten words since you walked in, but his expression speaks volumes. “You’re scheduled for the Sanctum in two days. You can do it when you get back.” 

You start for the door with a decisiveness you absolutely don’t feel, hoping to get away with your plan via sheer audacity. “What would you say if I couldn’t speak in the first place, hmm? It’ll be a challenge! Thrive in adversity, and all of that.”

“Sonnet?”

A warm sense of belonging strikes you on hearing the name you’re known by here at Kamar Taj, and you pause to look back at Wong.

“If the Sorcerer Supreme gives his permission, I suppose a week isn’t the end of the world.”

You spend all of your energy preventing your shoulders from slumping as you nod and rush through the door.

It takes you 12 hours to come up with what to do.

Your plan is audacious and absurd, but what convinces you to do it is the knowledge that it’s an act of protection for both Strange and Kamar Taj itself. Someone clearly meddled with the proper order of things to mark you as soulmates, and you’re just… setting things right.

Besides, you’ve been putting your library books back on the returns shelf with portals since three months after you came here, so your plan is only four times more ill-advised than that.

You don’t have to go just outside the Sorcerer Supreme’s study to place your request for an official Period of Silence in his ‘to be fulfilled’ inbox (the existence of which you confirmed with one of your friends, who works as a part-time admin for Kamar Taj leadership), but your Words’ penchant for vibrating in his vicinity is uniquely useful tonight.

Right before you complete the mission, you cast the intricate, personalized incantation you devised to steal away your voice for the following seven days, just in case. No one will know it’s a spell unless they detect as much, but it’ll stop you from speaking out of turn and literally ruining everything.

That turns out not to have been necessary, though. There’s no alarm, no floodlight, no magical imprisoning sentry spell to trap you in place for the room’s owner to come discover what you’d been up to. You simply sneak back out the way you came, silently congratulating yourself on a job well done.

You implement the crucial second part of your plan the second you arrive at the Sanctum: detached competence. You place the groceries you purchased in their places, check the cleanliness of the kitchen and the efficacy of the appliances and tools, and move on to begin laundering all of the towels, sheets, and other cloth items throughout the building. That started, you embark on a deep clean of each floor. The goal is to both seem extremely busy and foolish to have taken on such a labor-intensive plan. It would be crazy to question your actions, given how overdue most of the work is.

The problem? Dr. Stephen Strange is crazy.

Your first encounter at the Sanctum happens one hour into your self-appointed task of thoroughly cleaning every Artifact display case. He’d arrived in the building fifteen minutes ago, according to your erstwhile ankle monitor, the buzzing of which feels almost audible by the time Strange walks into the room. You are on the floor underneath one of the largest display cases, halfway through a painstaking rag and q-tip removal of all residual dust.

With a surprised cough, the Sorcerer Supreme casts a spell to clear the air, rushing over shortly afterwards to crouch down and frown in your direction.

“What on Earth are you--” he starts to say, but you interrupt by lifting up the discard tray full of lemon-scented dusty q-tips, wordlessly tapping it against your industrial-sized spray-can of Pledge. “Must have been one hell of a lost bet,” Strange observes. You shake your head and move to clean out another line of dusty crevices, shaken by how attractive you find his frustrated amusement.

You wrestle with that for a three-dirty-q-tip-long pause before he speaks again.

“You could just use magic for that, you know.”

You swing your head out sideways to offer a skeptical look, which he answers by casting what is probably intended to be a cleaning spell on your next dust target. With as neutral an expression as you can manage, you swipe at the same area with your Pledge’d rag and hold up the (vaguely less dusty, but still obviously disappointing) evidence. 

Your soulmate’s deflated sigh accompanies his departure.

Dinner doesn’t go much better; you’d chosen to make your favorite dish despite the 90 minute prep/cook time. You’d taken reassurance from reports that Strange tends to dislike vapid small talk at the table, but something about your silence makes him attempt it anyway. 

At first he fires off a sequence of yes or no questions that end with something that requires a complicated answer, an obvious trap which you can’t help but admire even as you dodge it. Next, he turns on the charm, which would have worked if it weren’t for the secret you’re planning to keep from him for all eternity. Despite this, you can’t help but feel a bit of a thrill when he smiles at you. Strange compliments your recovery, your accelerated course of study, and your particular talents in concealment magic. The latter twinges your conscience; your specialty is in preparation for the worst case scenario, the one where you flee somewhere he can’t find you after speaking his Words. 

As dinner winds to a close, Strange turns academic, and you almost break when he muses on the meaning of one of your favorite sonnets. 

The man fights dirty.

You do your best to fend it all off with nods, smiles, and the occasional thumbs-up, but you’re definitely shaken. You’d never allowed yourself to see him as a man before, certainly not as a potential love interest. He’s attentive, intellectual, and clever, a trifecta that threatens your entire world-view. Eventually your implacable silence sends him into the kitchen with his newly-cleared plate. Seconds later, he appears in the doorway to glower at you.

“You made cheesecake?”

Your cheerful thumbs-up doesn’t prevent him from eating any, but it looks like a near thing. It seems that Stephen Strange hates mysteries almost as much as he hates not being in control.

The next morning at breakfast, Strange casts two spells on you in rapid succession. One is a diagnostic spell that leaves a harsh ringing in your ears-- and the second strips away your silence evocation. You’re left feeling anxious and exposed, but you lean into it and shrug defensively, hoping he’ll get so annoyed by your obstinance that he leaves you alone. Stephen Strange is very handsome when he’s upset, which is a twisted silver lining, to be sure.

You’d almost purged your mind of Strange thoughts (an exercise much more difficult than you would have expected, may the fates be damned) when he steps up behind you while you’re scrubbing windows. Almost the entire day has passed; it’s now the magic twilight time where you can see your reflection in the window but still look through it to see the cityscape beyond. The light outside is beautiful, hovering between golden and navy blue in a way that accentuates the ancient garb Strange is wearing.

“What do you hope to gain by your silence?” he asks, a tone of warning hovering just out of reach.

You’d already decided that pure silence has been like a scarlet Cloak to Strange’s bullish nature, so you hold up the microfiber cloth you’d been using on the window and address it, rather than him.

“What do you think, scrubcloth, was I looking to gain something by my silence, or simply enjoying my time in a sacred, meaningful space?”

His derisive scoff tickles the back of your neck, and you shiver. Suddenly he’s not an adversary but a man , one that’s technically yours for the taking. This is exactly what you were trying to avoid. His next words heighten your sense of danger.

“You are scheming, and I will find out why.”

You indulge your instinctive, annoy-thy-neighbor movement to spin around and pat at his chest reassuringly. You’d have said something snarky and encouraging to his Cloak Artifact, but instead the warmth of his chest under your hand and the determined look on his face steal your words away. Briskly, you play off your physical reaction by pretending you’d missed a spot on the window closer to the door.

Once in the hallway, you lean up against the wall and just breathe for a while.

The third day at the Sanctum always comes with one-on-one instruction with the Sorcerer Supreme. You wake with the weight of the world strung up above you, held at bay by the slender threads of your resolve.

Skipping breakfast, you opt for nuclear-grade coffee from a highly-recommended shop nearby. Strange had been absent from dinner the night before, which means the last time you saw him was during your heated confrontation at the window.

For the upcoming metaphorical and instructional battle with Stephen Strange, you choose Kamar Taj battle-dress. The rich, full robes allow for easy movement, which you complement with leather padding for your knees, elbows, and forearms. It’s your heart that’s the least armored today, an oversight you hadn’t considered. As you walk toward the practice room, all you can do is remind yourself how important Stephen Strange is to your order, to humanity in particular, even to the universe as a whole after his confrontation with Dormammu. If he were destined to be with someone ‘ordinary,’ it would be a skilled, compassionate doctor like Christine Palmer, not a woman with no past and an uncertain future.

To your surprise, Strange proceeds to spend the session treating you with kindness, showing no cynicism, sarcasm, or frustration whatsoever. He even weaves poetry into his instruction, the words shocking and romantic coming from that rich, practically sensual voice of his.

“In the absence of a more pleasing sound, close your eyes and listen to my voice, then watch my hands, then you can try it yourself.”

At that, you almost trip on your own feet. Thankfully, Strange was turned away and maybe didn’t see-- but did he somehow know you’d thought of his voice in the same way Shakespeare had written in one of your favorite sonnets? ‘I love to hear her speak, yet well I know that music hath a far more pleasing sound…’

“I know your brain is beguiled by book learning, but you must trust me that practice is the best way to achieve this particular attunement.”

On hearing that one, you drop the mystical pattern you’d been conjuring and frown at him. His own concentration dips, sending his spinning geometric leaves colliding into a shower of sparks that fade into fairy dust. 

“What’s wrong?”

You put your hands on your hips, conveying as much ‘give me a break’ as possible.

His voice is gentle. “I thought you liked poetry.”

You almost retort. For a heart-stopping second you wonder if he’s trying to bait out some snarky, poem-related comment for fate to slice into his skin, but no. There’s no way he wouldn’t have magically commanded you to speak if that were the case, not when you’re known throughout Kamar Taj as Sonnet. This cements your resolve, and you convert your anxiety to kinetic magic and conjure a large version of the advanced shield he’d been teaching you to create. You make eye contact with him through the pulsing lines of the pattern, and he dips his head as if to concede the point.

It’s a turning point, a moment when the rightness of fate feels like it’s rubbing through your paper-thin defenses-- but when you focus on the backs of your hands instead of his piercing eyes, you see the defensive scars from your attack. Every reason you’re staying silent crashes back through, and you twist your fingers, spinning the shield into a spiral that guards you on the way to the door.

There you curtsey and leave, pressing the shield against the door on the other side to prevent yourself from being followed.

Seconds later you run smack into your soulmate. He’d opened a portal directly in your way with such precision that his Words on your ankle didn’t even have time to warn you. He catches you against him with one hand splayed across your back and the other clasping your exposed upper arm. Both of you gasp.

Your nerves are singing. It’s glorious and terrifying, stealing your breath such that you must close your eyes against its strength, held in fate’s embrace despite all your efforts to avoid it. The hallway is silent except for heavy, stunned breathing.

Strange swipes a warm caress with his thumb across the skin of your arm and steps back, steadying you for those first bereft seconds-- and then he lets out a deep chuckle.

“This is the reason. Your silence, your avoidance. This!”

It’s somehow both the perfect response and a completely unexpected one. You don’t know whether to be offended or tempted, so you lift your chin and cross your arms tightly, stubbornly leaving your eyes closed.

His chuckle has graduated to a beautiful full laugh. “All these years I thought you were a patient. Someone broken, someone I couldn’t fix. When I came here I accepted that I lost my chance-- and yet here you are! Talented in the Mystic Arts, unafraid of hard work, and as obstinate as I am. Do you even understand how relieved--”

You stagger back, eyes flying open in complete disbelief.

His beautiful eyes search yours, hands held up in the classic ‘not a threat’ pose, though you know differently. You shake your head, seeing his body relax and loosen in response, even as you clench up even more.

He cannot be serious.

Insidious joy seeps across the short distance between you, reminding you of the physical delight true soulmates find in each other. Isn’t Strange the one who knows most about the challenges he faces as the Sorcerer Supreme? If he isn’t concerned, why should--

No. That’s magic speaking, not reason.

You wheel around, turning your back on him. Your heart is a gash inside your chest, and the only way to heal it is to board the whole thing back up. Opening up a portal will give him a chance to follow you, but you’ve been practicing concealment for many months.

“Dear Diary,” you say in a clear, ringing voice, aiming at the dim ceiling rather than the man behind you. “Today I saved a great man from a terrible decision.”

“Oh, Sonnet, don’t,” your soulmate whispers behind you.

You are salt tear crystals compressed into stone as you continue walking away. In your mind’s eye, his confusion and dismay will soon turn into resolute understanding. There’s no other logical option.

“With galactic responsibilities like his,” you continue, “such a man cannot harbor weakness in the form of an inconsequential, imperfect partner--”

His voice is commanding as he interrupts. “You’re wrong.”

You are wrong, but about Strange’s wisdom, as it seems your soulmate is bewitched by the allure of magical bonding. It’s not his fault. He had given up, hadn’t considered the consequences, not like you have. Inside your chest is a hurricane of please yes and please no, swirling around your impenetrable heart. 

Never since your arrival in Kamar Taj --never since you’d heard this man’s voice speak your Words-- had you imagined you’d ever be tempted to change your mind, but oh, oh, you hadn’t been prepared for him to disagree with your choice to reject the bond.

Ahead of you, the pair of ornate doors that protect this wing of the Sanctum swing closed, the metal bolt slamming home with a loud clang.

You start gathering magic for your escape. “So, Diary, for the good of all, I must reject the generous offer fate has made to me--”

Strange interrupts to correct you, his tone achingly gentle. “To US. ‘ I fear no fate-- for you are my fate, my sweet. I want no world-- for beautiful, you are my world--’”

The storm in your chest bursts forth into a torrent of tears. That poem by e. e. cummings has always been your favorite, and to have it used against you -! You throw your hands out at your sides, bursting open the doors to the rooms beside you and further still, breaking the windows you’d so recently cleaned. 

You need access to as much magic as you can pull from the world at large, and it gathers in your outstretched fists, furious and barely constrained. Embers of magic dart out to sink into your ankle, while others dance around you to fly off out of sight behind you, probably into Strange. Many seconds have passed, and you recognize your mistake in facing away and thus being unprepared for whatever his next move is, but you’re a breath away from casting your spell. 

You’d practiced up to this moment a dozen times, triangulating your inner being on a single point, a necessary point in time and space. When you release your grasped magic, you’ll burst into countless points of light and coalesce at that one place. It’s the last step, the one you haven’t been able to complete yet, as it’s limited to one try. Wong’s precious library had taught it to you as the Sorcerer’s Elusion, a combination of illusion and eluding capture.

“Go on,” Strange says behind you, an odd sort of acceptance in his voice. The exultation from his capitulation is the last burst of energy you needed, and you complete the spell, slamming your hands together in an explosion of pain and panacea.

You arrive in a heap at Stephen Strange’s feet.

“No! What?” you groan.

Stephen throws himself down and pulls you to his chest, one hand brushing the tear-wet hair from your eyes. “I’m sorry, dearest.”

You’re completely spent, but the magically-crafted, fate-tuned pleasure in his touch is sour in the back of your throat as you struggle to pull back. You forget yourself in that moment, aiming your misery and disappointment directly at him. “Just give up! I’m too broken, it’s not right!”

“That has never been true, and it never will be,” your soulmate says. “Trust me, I’ve been there.”

He strokes his fingers across the fists you’re shoving him away with, and even through your tear-blurred eyes you can see the scars he also bears. “You deserve better,” you whisper.

“How far into the tome did you read, about the Elusion?”

“You’re just trying to distract me.” The quaver in your voice nullifies your attempt at outrage.

“No, I’m trying to figure out whether you’re impulsive or arrogant,” Stephen says, clearly amused. You lift your head and glare at him, but the damned man cups your face with his hand just as he’d done when speaking your Words. “It’s only been cast successfully three times, Sonnet. If that’s not proof you’re worthy to stand beside me, I don’t know what is.”

You blink up at him in disbelief, your instinctive retort falling flat. “There’s no chance that’s true.”

His smile is heart-stoppingly gorgeous. “You’re right, in a way-- it’s four times now. All of the others were life or death situations.” He lifts you up to a stand with impossible grace, adding, “We’ll never live it down, I hope you know that.”

“Hang on, now!” you burst out, frowning against the rush of rightness his words engender. “There’s no we! You and I barely know each other! I’ve spent our entire acquaintance avoiding you, and I just broke a bunch of the windows in the Sanctum attempting to--”

“--ruin my life, yes, I know. There are some trouble spots.”

“Trouble spots?!" Your lifelong instinct during outrageous moments such as these has always been to pace around, sometimes while gesticulating, but when you start, your soulmate catches your hand in his, arresting your spin. He tugs, and though you hold onto your reluctance as a matter of habit, you end up standing in front of him.

Only then do the words ‘ruin my life’ register, and it’s enough to cement your feet in place and really look at him. He seems utterly sincere, gentle even, and he uses that opportunity to take your other hand, clasping both lightly, a low-dipping bridge between the two of you.

“I’m going to ask you some yes or no questions. Is that all right?”

“I suppose,” you say, instead of ‘yes.’

There’s heat in the little chastising glare he offers, but Stephen just says, “Did you research soulmates?”

“Yes.”

“Did you research me?”

You bite your lip. “Yes.”

“You researched escape mechanisms, both physical and mystic?”

“Yes.”

“Did you research fairy tales?”

Your brows crinkle up. “What?”

Stephen squeezes your joined hands and smiles. “In fairy tales about lovers, the couple often must use magic in some transformative way to defeat the obstacle to ‘ever after.’ You just defeated yourself. Was it enough, or should I start looking out for feathers or bark while I get to know you? I don’t think I'd make a very good tree.”

There’s an unfamiliar feeling in the pit of your stomach. It flutters there, and every time it makes contact with your innards, you feel more comfortable with this possible future.

It seems like… there’s a chance… it just might be joy.

“Oh, come on, you’d make a majestic tree, what are you even talking about?”

Stephen looks at you like you matter, and it’s heady and glorious until the expression starts to fracture into amusement, and his eyes widen. “No, trust me, trust me,” he gasps out, holding back a laugh. He pulls your joined hands up to his chest and drags you close, looking more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen him, not that you’ve let yourself be near enough to really say that.

“Tell me,” you whisper, scared he’s just thought of something that means you were right all along, now that you’re almost on board with the crazy insanity that is being his soulmate.

“It’s a poetry joke. I thought of a perfect, terrible poetry joke. You were right to-- well no, you weren’t, but--”

Stephen shakes his head and swoops down, capturing your lips in a brief, intense kiss before he says, “Could you consider the Road Not Taken with me?”

Your lips buzz with possibilities, but something makes you shake off your happy intoxication just long enough to examine why Stephen is so very apologetic. In your head, you pull out the memory of the Robert Frost poem he’s referenced. Two roads diverge in a yellow--  WOOD.

“There it is,” Stephen murmurs.

“Maybe I do deserve you,” you grumble. His triumphant bark of laughter warms you from the inside out. 

“I certainly hope so,” he rumbles, sliding a possessive hand into your hair and tipping your head up for a kiss. When your lips meet, all of the best lines of poetry in your memory coalesce into the perfect sonnet about how love (and obstinacy) conquers all.

[roturo]

✒ LOML ⋆⭒˚.⋆ (geto's version)

⋆⭒˚.⋆ sypnosis: You and Suguru Geto were once inseparable, bound by shared dreams and laughter. As time passed, the warmth of those days faded into distant echoes, leaving behind only the haunting traces of a love that once was. Feeling the touch of someone closer made you feel real again. But nothing lasts forever, right?

warnings: smut, unprocteted sex, angst, widow!reader, cult!geto suguru, mentions of ptsd, mentions of death, time passes, soulmate!geto suguru, reader x gojo satoru, mentions of past, let me know if i missed smt.

A/N: okay so, i just broke my back at dance but dw guys i just finished this request so i'll upload it, that means it’s npr— i dont know if yall will get my idea but i made a try, reblog and leave a comment for support !

The bell rang, reminding you how you felt once at the end of another day at Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical School. Amid the crowd of other sorcerers streaming out of the classrooms, you and Suguru Geto stood out as high school sweethearts. You were inseparable, sharing laughs, secrets, and dreams of a future together. Your friends always snickered about when you would marry and have kids. Gojo claimed he would love to see a mini version of yourself and… well, his best friend.

Years passed, and true to the bets, you and Suguru were married in a small, intimate ceremony surrounded by friends and loved ones. The months that followed were filled with joy and love, building a life together that you had once only dreamed of.

But life has a way of taking unexpected turns. As Suguru delved deeper into the world of curses and his cursed technique, his views began to shift. He started to question the very fabric of the world, why he should risk his life to save his and yours, just because of some dumb curses humans create by bringing evil into this world.

"Suguru, what's happening to you?" you asked one evening, your voice stern with concern. He had been distant lately, his once warm eyes now cold and calculating.

"I'm becoming something greater," he replied, his tone flat and emotionless but his face was displaying a sophisticated smirk. "A savior for the sorcerers of this world."

"W-what do you mean?" you asked. "What about the plans we made before getting married?"

Suguru turned to you, a flicker of the old him flashing in his eyes at the memories before it disappeared with a tilt of his head to the side. "We were just kids, babe," he said, almost dismissively with a smile. "Those were dreams of a different time. Ever since I stopped relating to the jujutsu society and more with people of our kind, I finally understand the real meaning of this world and us in it."

“I don’t mind, it takes time, Suguru.”

“You and I went from one kiss to getting married and you think I wouldn’t do this for our world? Our kind? For us?!”

His words cut deep, a painful reminder of the widening chasm between you. Despite your attempts to reach him, Suguru continued down his dark path, growing more entangled in his cult and his delusions of grandeur. The man you had fallen in love with seemed to vanish, replaced by a stranger who saw himself as a legendary figure, destined to reshape the world.

One night, after another heated argument, you woke up startled from another bad dream. He stood before you, a shadow of his former self. "I'm doing this for us, for a better world," he insisted.

He used to think you were better safe than starry-eyed. But you have never felt aglow—never before and never since.

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face unconsciously. "No, Suguru. You're doing this for yourself. You're not the man I married."

He paused, looking at you with a mixture of anger and sadness. "Maybe you're right. But it's too late to change now."

The anguish in his voice was almost too much to bear. You reached out, hoping to find a trace of the boy you once knew, but you couldn’t touch him, every time he felt even farther away from you.

"Suguru, please," you whispered, your voice breaking. "We can still fix this. We can go back to how things were."

He shook his head slowly. "No, we can't. We've come too far. But remember what I said last time? I will never let this get in the way of yo—of us. You’re the love of my life.”

His words echoed in the empty space between you, a final, bitter nail in the coffin of your once bright future. As you blinked and gained full consciousness after waking up, you felt a part of yourself break, knowing that the man you loved was lost to a darkness you couldn't understand or see.

And yet, here you were, standing alone in the ruins of what once was, clutching the shards of a dream that had shattered beyond repair. The emptiness inside you grew, consuming the remnants of hope you clung to, leaving behind an ache that seemed to echo in the hollow spaces of your heart.

He was gone, but his ghost lingered, a painful reminder of the love that was and the love that could never be again.

He wasn’t there anymore, was he?

Holy ghost, he told you he was the love of your life. 

About a million times.

Years later, as you stood alone in the quiet of your home, now a dorm back in the school buildings as you decided to work for those sorcerers who started feeling like your loved one, you reflected on the boy you had once loved and the man he had become. The memories of your high school days seemed like a distant dream, a time when you were just kids, full of hope and promise.

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with unspoken emotions. Your breaths and moans mingled, hot and desperate, as Gojo's lips traced a path down your neck while humping his hard cock on the slippery sweet cunt of yours. His touch was familiar, yet foreign, as if you were trying to grasp a memory that slipped through your fingers like sand.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be swept away in the moment. You could feel Gojo's need in the way he whispered your name, like he was asking for permission for something, or… someone. His voice, usually so confident and teasing, held a whine that made your heart ache with a confusing blend of longing and sorrow.

His hands roamed over your body with a practiced ease, yet every touch felt like a plea, a silent question of whether this could ever be enough. His lips traced familiar paths down your neck and across your collarbone, igniting sparks that threatened to consume you whole. 

Once he finally thrust inside you, both of you moaned out loud and made you open your eyes with a blurry sight, contemplating his dark hair falling on your face while he moved within you. A feeling of completeness invaded your tummy as you whimpered when he touched that spot inside of you.

“Please,” you whispered, but it sounded like a desperate call to the ghost of your past. The reality of the present and the memory of the past blurred, creating a disorienting whirlpool of emotions. “I got it baby… just– Mhm-I”  The touch felt so good and… right. You lost yourself in the feeling as tears started drowning your eyes in a mix of emotions.

Gojo's grip tightened as he felt your tears, his whispered name of yours almost a chant, a plea wrapped in longing and regret. The confusion of your feelings deepened—did he really say your name?

You looked back at him, his cold but reassuring black purplish eyes invading the light coming from the lamp as it was the only thing that shined for you. The way his hair fell, the curve of his lips as he groaned, it all felt too familiar and too alien at once. Your climax and his were getting closer, moans escalating in volume as you both sought a release that felt more like an escape.

When your impressionist paintings of Heaven turned out to be fakes, it was as if the vibrant colors of your love had faded into a monochrome nightmare. You had been sold a get-love-quick scheme, and the ink bled into a mess of confusion and heartache.

As you finally reached your high with a shared kiss, Gojo cleaned you up in silence and gave you a water bottle. It was over. You lay there, entwined in Gojo’s arms, feeling his hair cover a part of his chest as you leaned down your head on it.

When you woke up, the morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the room. You were naked, tangled in the sheets, Gojo's arm still draped over you. The events of the night before replayed in your mind, and the stark reality hit you like a punch to the gut. It hadn't been him; it was never him.

You had been digging up the past, trying to revive a love that was long dead. The realization washed over you, cold and unforgiving. You should've let it stay buried. The feelings you were trying to resurrect were entombed with the boy you once loved, and no amount of closeness with Gojo could bring them back to life.

The night had been a cruel reminder that some ghosts could never be laid to rest, and the void left by his absence was one that Gojo could never fill.

As you stared out at the morning light coming through the window, you knew that you had to find a way to move forward, even if it meant leaving the past behind. The touch of Gojo's arms around you, once comforting, now felt like chains binding you to memories you could never escape. The warmth of his body next to yours only highlighted the cold emptiness within, a void that grew larger with every passing moment.

The room, now bathed in the soft glow of dawn, felt like a cage. Each shadow seemed to whisper the name of the boy you had lost, each ray of light a painful reminder of a future that would never be. You could still feel the echo of his touch on your skin, a ghostly caress that lingered long after the night had ended.

Gojo stirred beside you, his arm tightening around your waist in a sleepy embrace. You glanced back at him, his serene expression a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within you. He had tried to fill the void, to be the light in your darkness, but the shadows of the past were too strong, too overwhelming.

You gently extricated yourself from his grasp, moving silently to avoid waking him. As you stood by the window, the first rays of sunlight breaking through the clouds, you felt a tear slip down your cheek. It was a tear for the love you had lost, for the boy who had once been your world, and for the man who now lay beside you, trying to pick up the pieces of a shattered heart.

The realization was stark and unforgiving: no matter how much you tried to move forward, the past would always be a part of you, a haunting reminder of what could have been. And as the morning light washed over you, you knew that the journey ahead would be long and painful, but it was a path you had to walk alone.

With a deep breath, you turned away from the window, determination settling in your heart. The ghosts of the past would always linger, but you had to find a way to live with them, to find peace in the midst of the storm. And maybe, just maybe, you would find a way to heal.

“Suguru,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, “promise me something.”

Suguru’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his eyes reflecting the last rays of the setting sun. “Anything,” he replied, his tone sincere and tender.

“Promise me you’ll never put anyone or anything above us,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “That we’ll always come first.”

Suguru took your hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring. “I’ll never leave,” he said, his voice unwavering. “Nothing and no one will ever come between us. You’re my everything.”

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, his words wrapping around your heart like a protective shield. His lips curved into a gentle smile, and he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I promise,” he murmured. “I’ll always be here for you. We’re in this together.”

The moment felt eternal, a promise etched in the quiet of the twilight. As you nestled against him, the world outside seemed to vanish, leaving only the certainty of Suguru’s words and the warmth of his embrace. You closed your eyes, letting the peaceful promise settle deep within you, trusting that no matter what challenges lay ahead, his commitment would remain steadfast.

In that perfect, fleeting moment, you believed with all your heart that Suguru’s promise was unbreakable.

The memories of his promises, once a source of solace, now felt like daggers, each one twisting deeper into your heart. “I’ll never leave,” he had promised. And yet, here you were, alone, with the emptiness where his presence used to be. The truth was inescapable: Suguru had left, and his promises had been nothing more than comforting words, hollow and unfulfilled.

The room seemed to close in on you, the silence amplifying the ache in your chest. You could still feel the ghost of his touch, the warmth of his embrace, but it was all a cruel illusion, a mirage that had vanished with his departure. “Never mind,” you said to yourself in a breathless chuckle, trying to hide the pain your chest felt, the realization hitting you with a cold, harsh clarity. All those promises were just words—a fleeting comfort that had crumbled to dust.

You buried your face in your hands, tears streaming down your cheeks, each one a testament to the love you had lost. The future you had once envisioned with Suguru was nothing more than a shattered dream, a vision that had dissolved into the stark reality of his absence.

The pain was almost unbearable, the weight of his betrayal settling heavily on your shoulders. You had been left to pick up the pieces, to grapple with the knowledge that the love you had cherished was now a ghost of the past. And as the darkness of the room closed in around you, you knew that the journey to heal from this loss would be long and fraught with heartache.

In the silence of the night, you felt the full force of Suguru’s absence, a painful truth settled within you with the weight of an unbearable burden. “Shit,” you whispered to the empty room, the words trembling on your lips as if they carried the weight of a thousand broken dreams. The room seemed to absorb your sorrow, its silence amplifying the ache in your heart. Each breath felt labored, the air thick with the heavy, oppressive realization of Suguru’s absence.

The absence of his presence was like a gaping wound that no amount of time or consolation could ever heal. His laughter, once so familiar and comforting, was now a distant echo that haunted the corners of your mind. The love you had cherished, so vibrant and full of promise, was now a ghostly whisper, a reminder of what once was but could never be again. The memories, once a source of warmth, now felt like cold, unyielding shadows that only deepened the chasm within you.

The pain was almost unbearable, each moment a torment as you faced the stark reality of Suguru’s departure. The void he left behind was a vast and insurmountable chasm, a darkness that seemed to stretch on endlessly. It was a wound so profound that no amount of time or effort could ever hope to mend it. You tried to imagine a future without him, but every thought seemed to fall short, every hope tarnished by the cruel reality of his absence.

No matter how hard you tried, you knew that the echoes of your shared past would never fully fade. The journey ahead would be marked by the persistent shadow of what you had lost. Each step forward felt weighed down by the remnants of Suguru’s memory, a constant reminder of the love that had slipped through your fingers like sand. The future you once envisioned, full of hope and promise, was now a mirage, forever out of reach.

As the darkness of the room closed in around you, you felt the full force of Suguru’s absence. The silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the warmth and intimacy that once defined your life together. The realization that the loss of him was a scar that would remain with you forever settled heavily upon you. It was a mark that no amount of time or healing could ever truly erase, a reminder that some wounds are too deep, too profound, to ever be fully healed.

In the quiet of the night, with the shadows stretching long and dark, you felt the weight of Suguru’s absence more acutely than ever. The pain was a constant companion, a relentless reminder of the love that had once been your everything but was now a haunting, unending loss. The room, filled with the echoes of what once was, bore witness to the depth of your grief, a silent testament to the enduring impact of Suguru’s departure on your heart and soul.

And as you sat in the suffocating silence, grappling with the emptiness that had consumed your world, you could only utter one final, heart-wrenching truth: “You’re the loss of my life.”

[goldfades]

𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒, 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐅𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 / 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 / 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈❜𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐈 𝐃𝐈𝐄 / 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ─ SC⁸⁷

TRACK 12 ─── LOML

TTPD CELLY MASTERLIST !

౨ৎ ─ summary | caught in a cycle of love and heartbreak, you find yourself constantly returning to sidney crosby, the one person who promises everything but never follows through. as the years pass and the same promises echo between you, you’re left questioning if holding on is worth more than letting go

─ word count | 6.3k

─ warnings | ANGST ANGST ANGST, oh my god i teared up writing this (im on my period shut up). a rollercoaster of emotions, young love -> soulmate kinda vibe. on and off, just overall angsty (with no happy ending... its ttpd, what do u expect?) idk what else to add but like... if u need a good cry, read this

The night is colder than you remember, and the city lights are muted, softening the edges of every memory you have of this place. Pittsburgh’s skyline blurs through the frost on your windshield, each bright glow fading into the next as you pull into the parking lot of a bar you used to know so well. It’s different now—a new name, new sign, but the same chime of the bell when you push through the door, like a greeting from the past.

You used to come here all the time, back when the two of you were something. Not official, not permanent—never those things—but something more than a fling and less than a promise. He used to sit right there, at the corner booth, baseball cap pulled low and face half-hidden, and you’d slide in next to him like you belonged there. Because, for a while, you thought you did.

But now you stand there, scanning the faces, waiting to see if he’ll show. The text he sent still hangs heavy in your mind, words you could almost memorize by heart: Can we talk? I miss you. It’s always like this—a cycle you’ve danced for longer than you’d care to admit. He always says the right things, words that feel like they could anchor you in the storm of his life, but it’s always just a promise, never reality.

And that’s what scares you most.

Because this time, you don’t know if you’ll fall for it again.

───

It was summer, and everything was golden.

The sun filtered through the trees, casting shadows that danced along the edges of the makeshift hockey rink. You remember the smell of freshly cut grass, the distant hum of cicadas, and the way the air buzzed with a warmth that clung to your skin. You were barely a teenager, and the world felt infinite, stretched out before you like the blue sky above. It was one of those summer afternoons when the days felt endless and you thought you had all the time in the world.

The rink wasn’t anything special—just a patch of concrete nestled in the middle of the park, surrounded by chain-link fences and littered with the scuffs and scratches of a hundred other games. But for you, it was everything. Your brother had dragged you along, promising it would be “cool” and that the guys he played with wouldn’t care that you tagged along. You’d insisted on wearing his old jersey, the one that hung loose over your frame and brushed against your knees when you walked. It smelled faintly like sweat and summer afternoons, and even though it was too big, you wore it like armor.

He was already there when you arrived, leaning casually against the boards with his stick resting on his shoulder. He wore a backwards cap that made him look like an absolute douche, but you could still see the way his grin spread wide when he laughed. He was tall, at least compared to the other boys, and he had this presence about him—like he knew exactly where he belonged, and it was right there on that concrete. He radiated this easy confidence, the kind that made people naturally gravitate toward him, and you found yourself watching him, even when you knew you shouldn’t.

“Hey, kid, you play?” he called out as your brother introduced you to the group. His voice was light, teasing, but there was something in it that made you straighten your shoulders, determined to prove you weren’t just some tag-along.

You lifted your chin, clutching your stick a little tighter. “Yeah, I do.”

A laugh rippled through the group, and he tilted his head, an eyebrow raised in a way that seemed to dare you. “Alright, show me.”

You skated out onto the concrete, feeling the rough texture beneath your sneakers, the familiar push and glide that came as natural as breathing. You could feel the eyes on you, the judgment, the expectation that you’d stumble or falter.

But you didn’t.

You skated like you always did—like you had something to prove, even when no one was watching. You could feel the summer breeze tugging at your hair, could hear the sounds of sticks clashing, wheels spinning, and the distant shouts of kids playing in the park. The world faded into a blur of movement and sound, and for a moment, it was just you and the puck, gliding across the concrete.

When you stopped, stick planted firmly, the puck resting right where you aimed, you turned to face him. His grin had shifted into something softer, something that looked like approval. He nodded, a small movement that somehow felt like a victory, like you’d passed some unspoken test.

“You’re pretty good,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m Sidney.”

You told him your name, trying to play it cool, but there was something about the way he looked at you, something that made your heart beat a little faster. You brushed it off—he was just another kid, another boy who thought he ruled the rink. But when he passed you the puck during the game, when he skated close enough that you could hear his breath, quick and heavy, you felt something shift, like the start of a story you hadn’t planned on telling.

The hours blurred together, the sun sinking lower as the sky melted into hues of orange and pink. You played until your legs ached and your cheeks hurt from smiling. He was quick, his movements sharp and precise, but he had this way of gliding past the others like he was weightless, like he’d been born on skates. And every time he sent the puck your way, you felt that rush again, that thrill of being seen, of being chosen.

At one point, when you stopped to catch your breath, he skated up beside you, close enough that you could see the way the sunlight caught in his eyes. “You should come out more often,” he said, a smile playing at the edge of his lips. “We could use someone like you.”

You shrugged, pretending like you hadn’t already made up your mind. “Maybe.”

But deep down, you knew you’d come back.

And when he grinned, that slow, easy grin that made you feel like you were sharing a secret, you realized that maybe this was the start of something. Something that felt like endless summer days and the thrill of chasing after something just out of reach.

He was only a boy then, and you were only a girl with skates too big for your feet and dreams too big for your chest. But that was the thing about summer—everything felt possible. And standing there, the light catching in his hair and the warmth of his presence radiating like a sunbeam, you felt like you’d met someone who could make it all come true.

The years rolled on like they always do, slow and steady until you looked back and realized how quickly time had slipped by. What started as childhood games on concrete rinks and sticky summer nights turned into something deeper, something that felt like it could last forever.

When you were sixteen, things shifted. You’d always been friends, maybe even best friends. By then, he was already “Sid the Kid,” the local legend whose name was whispered with reverence around the rinks. But to you, he was just Sidney—the same boy who laughed with you when you scored, who always had an extra stick in his bag just in case, who stayed up late with you, lying on the cool grass, tracing constellations with his finger.

Somewhere between the late-night talks and the secret smiles, friendship turned into something more. It wasn’t a single moment; it was a thousand little ones, each building on the next until you both looked up and realized you weren’t just kids playing pretend anymore.

The first time he kissed you, it was right before his first big tournament. You’d been nervous for him, more nervous than he seemed to be. You’d walked down to the empty rink at dusk, the air cool and the sky the color of fading ink. You remember how his hand felt, warm and solid as it slipped into yours, and how he turned to you, eyes bright with something you hadn’t seen before. The kiss was tentative, like he was testing the waters, but it felt like fireworks, a spark in the night that you carried with you long after you pulled away.

From then on, you were something more—together but not quite official. You tried not to think about it too much, content with what you had. You showed up at every game, standing in the crowd with his number on your back, feeling that thrill when he’d glance your way. You’d spend the evenings together, sometimes in the rink, sometimes out by the water, stealing moments in between practices and tournaments. For a while, it was perfect.

Then, life happened.

He got drafted, and everything changed. He moved to Pittsburgh, and suddenly the boy who was always around, who could text or call at any hour, was miles away, caught up in a whirlwind of cameras, contracts, and the pressures of professional hockey. You were still in high school then, watching him from afar, cheering him on from a distance. You told yourself it was fine, that the distance didn’t matter, and that you were both still too young to worry about anything more than the present.

But even then, you could feel the space between you growing.

In his rookie year, you made the decision to move to Pittsburgh. You’d gotten into a college nearby, and when you called to tell him, he was ecstatic. You’d never forget the way his voice sounded on the phone—relieved, almost. Like he’d been waiting for you, hoping you’d make the leap. And so you did. You left your friends, your family, everything familiar to be closer to him. It felt like a grand, romantic gesture—the kind you saw in movies. But in the back of your mind, you knew it was more than that.

The first year was a whirlwind. You were in the stands for his games, holding your breath every time he took a shot, cheering louder than anyone when he scored. Off the ice, it felt like the two of you were creating a life together, slowly but surely. You moved in together, and even though his schedule was insane—practices, games, interviews—there were still those quiet moments.

Mornings when you’d wake up to him already gone, but with a note on the counter that read, I’ll be back soon. Evenings when he’d come home exhausted but would pull you into his arms like nothing else in the world mattered. It was enough, more than enough.

Until it wasn’t.

Somewhere along the way, the cracks started to show. At first, it was small things—missed dinners, texts that went unanswered because he was “caught up in meetings.” Then, the fights started. You’d ask him about the future—where were you going, what were you to each other? He’d dodge the questions, promising you that things would be easier once the season was over, once the next championship was done, once his contract was sorted out.

You tried to believe him, tried to convince yourself that you were both still young, that you had time. But every time you saw him, it felt like you were grasping at something that was always just slipping out of reach.

The first breakup came after his rookie season. You’d been together for two years, and you could feel the weight of it pressing down on you, the uncertainty, the feeling that maybe you’d given up too much, too soon. You remember standing in the doorway, watching him lace up his skates, and asking, for the first time, why you weren’t moving forward. He looked at you, eyes soft but distant, and said he didn’t know. That maybe things were moving too fast. You didn’t yell, didn’t cry. You just nodded, kissed him one last time, and left.

It was the first time you thought that maybe he wasn’t ready to be with you the way you needed him to be. But it wasn’t the last.

Over the next few years, it was the same dance—back and forth, the two of you pulled together by some invisible force that neither of you could name, only to be pushed apart by the same old arguments, the same doubts.

Each time you broke up, it felt like the end.

You’d tell yourself that this time, it was really over. You’d pack your things, move out, and try to rebuild your life. But then, he’d call. Sometimes it was months later, sometimes just weeks, but it was always the same: I miss you. I’m sorry. I wasn’t ready then, but I am now.

And every time, you believed him.

Maybe it was the way he looked at you, like you were the only person who really knew him, who understood the weight he carried every time he stepped onto the ice. Or maybe it was the promises he’d make when he held you close, whispering that one day he’d put a ring on your finger, that one day you’d have a family together. You told yourself that this time would be different, that you could trust him, that he was finally ready.

But each time, it ended the same way. The season would start, and he’d get caught up again—first in the games, then in the championships, then in the next contract. And you’d find yourself alone, the same questions building up, the same empty promises echoing in your head.

It went on like that for years. You tried dating other people, tried moving on, but it was always temporary. No one else felt like home the way he did, and you hated yourself for it. You’d built your life around someone who couldn’t give you the future he kept promising, and the worst part was, you kept going back.

You remember the last time you walked away. It was after another fight, the same one you’d had a dozen times before. You’d asked him about the future, and he’d given you that same look, the one that told you he was already pulling away. But this time, when he said, I just need time, you didn’t have the strength to believe him. You nodded, the lump in your throat too tight to speak, and left before he could see the tears in your eyes.

And now, you find yourself back where it all started, years later, wondering if he’s changed. If this time, when he said I miss you, it really meant something. But deep down, you already know the answer.

It’s the same as it’s always been.

───

You scan the room, your heart pounding, eyes darting from one face to another, hoping—no, dreading—that you’ll see him. Part of you wants to run, to turn around and pretend you never agreed to meet him. But the other part, the part that still holds on to the memories of you and him when things were easy, when love was simple and uncomplicated, keeps your feet rooted to the floor.

He’s always late, and you’ve learned to hate it. It’s not just a bad habit—it’s a symbol of everything between you two, a reminder that he always has something, or someone, else pulling him in another direction. Every time he tells you he’ll be there, every time you stand waiting, it’s like a countdown until he lets you down again.

You glance down at your phone, the screen lighting up with the time: fifteen minutes past when he said he’d be here. You think about leaving, about saving yourself the heartache. You’ve done this dance so many times before. You know the steps, know the way it’ll play out if you wait long enough. He’ll walk in, breathless and apologetic, and those eyes—God, those eyes—will soften when they find yours. He’ll look at you like you’re the only thing that’s kept him steady in a world that’s always moving too fast.

And you’ll feel your resolve slip, just like it always does.

Your hand tightens around the phone, knuckles turning white as you try to steel yourself against the pull of old memories. You think back to the last time you saw him, to the way he looked at you when you said enough. It had been one of those fights, the ones that started small—something about how he missed dinner again, or how you were the only one trying—and escalated into everything you’d ever bottled up. You told him you were tired of waiting, tired of hearing him say he was ready when all he ever did was prove otherwise.

He’d stood there, silent, watching you with that look—the one that said he was sorry but not enough to change. And you left, thinking that maybe this time, you’d finally meant it. That you could walk away and not look back.

But now, here you are, back in the same place, waiting.

A familiar ache spreads through your chest as the seconds tick by, every moment without him another chance for doubt to creep in. You don’t want to be here, don’t want to be the person who keeps holding out hope when all it ever does is hurt. But despite everything, you can’t help the part of you that still believes. The part that whispers this time could be different, even when you know it won’t be.

Just when you’ve almost convinced yourself to leave, the door swings open. Your breath catches as you spot him, shoulders hunched slightly like he’s unsure of how to approach. He looks older, wearier than you remember, but it’s him. The moment his eyes lock with yours, you feel it—the same rush, the same pull that’s always been there, drawing you back in.

He smiles, that small, tentative smile that used to melt your defenses. It’s like he knows exactly how to walk that line between sincerity and charm, and you hate how well it works. You fight the urge to return it, to let that familiar warmth bloom in your chest, and instead, you keep your expression neutral.

He crosses the room with that unhurried stride, his gaze never leaving yours. When he finally reaches you, he stops, just a foot away, close enough that you can smell the faint hint of his cologne—a scent you’d once known better than your own. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you, like he’s memorizing the way you look right now, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and careful, like he’s testing the waters.

“Hey.” Your response is cool, guarded. You’re not going to make this easy for him, not this time.

He shifts, rubbing the back of his neck—a habit you know means he’s nervous. “I’m sorry I’m late. Got caught up—”

You cut him off, tired of the same excuses. “It’s always something with you, Sid.”

He flinches, and you almost feel guilty. Almost. But then you remember all the times you waited, all the empty promises, and you stand your ground.

“I know,” he says softly. “You’re right.”

The words hang between you, heavy with everything that’s come before. It’s different this time. Usually, he jumps right into the apologies, into telling you how much he missed you, how he’s ready now, how he’s changed. But tonight, he just stands there, the look on his face a mixture of regret and something else you can’t quite read.

And maybe that’s the problem. You’ve never been able to fully read him. You’ve spent years trying, and every time you think you’ve figured him out, he slips away. You wonder if he knows how much it hurts—wonder if he even cares.

“So, what is it this time?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest, your eyes searching his for any sign of what he’s thinking. “Why’d you want to see me?”

He exhales, a slow, deep breath that seems to carry the weight of everything you’ve been through together. “I just—” he starts, then stops, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I miss you.”

You shake your head, the familiar ache settling into your bones. “You always miss me when I’m gone.”

His gaze snaps back to yours, and for a moment, you see something raw in his eyes—something real. “No, I mean it. I’m tired of pretending everything’s okay when it’s not. I’m tired of losing you.”

You want to believe him. You really do. But the words feel like echoes of promises he’s made a hundred times before. And the part of you that’s always been waiting, hoping, feels like it’s hanging by a thread.

“Prove it,” you say, your voice steady even though your heart is racing. “Because I can’t keep doing this, Sid. I can’t keep falling for the same lines.”

He takes a step closer, and for a moment, you feel the pull again—the magnetic force that’s always drawn you back to him, no matter how many times you’ve tried to walk away. You can see the struggle in his eyes, the way he’s fighting to find the right words, and you wonder if maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

But as he reaches for your hand, you can’t help but brace yourself for the familiar sting of disappointment. Because no matter what he says, you know how this story ends.

He glanced down, looking down at the promise ring on your finger. Your ring finger. The same ring he'd given you many years ago, before he left for Pittsburgh. He told you it was just the beginning, a placeholder for something bigger. Something that, back then, felt like a certainty. You remember the way he slipped it on your finger, his hands steady and sure. His eyes shone with the same excitement you felt—like the future was a road you were both eager to walk down together.

“I’ll get you the real thing one day,” he’d promised, his voice brimming with that youthful conviction. “Just wait for me.”

And you did. For years, you wore that ring like a badge of honor, a symbol of everything you believed you were building together. When he left for Pittsburgh, you told yourself it was only temporary. Distance was just another hurdle, and the two of you had overcome so many already. You visited him during breaks, and every time he came home, it felt like picking up right where you left off. You thought nothing could break that bond.

Now, standing in front of him, you can see it in his eyes—that same look he’s always given you when he knows he’s let you down. But there’s a hesitation there, too, a weight he’s carrying that wasn’t there before. You wonder if he’s finally seeing it the way you do—if he’s finally realizing that words and promises are never enough.

He reaches for your hand, his thumb grazing the cool, faded metal of the ring. “I know I’ve said it before, but I—”

You pull your hand back, your chest tightening with all the years of waiting, all the times you’ve heard those same words and let yourself believe them. “Don’t. Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

His jaw tenses, and he looks up, his eyes searching yours. “I do mean it,” he says, but there’s a hint of desperation in his voice now. “I know I haven’t been fair to you. I know I’ve asked too much.”

You shake your head, the anger and sadness mixing together until they’re almost indistinguishable. “No, Sidney, you’ve taken too much. You’ve taken years of my life—years I can’t get back.”

He winces, and you can see the hurt flash across his face, but you don’t pull back. You can’t. “I’ve given up everything for you—my job, my plans, my own life—because I believed in this. I believed in us. But every time, you leave. Every time, you break your promise.”

He opens his mouth, but you cut him off before he can speak. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep living my life waiting for a future that’s never going to come.”

There’s a moment of silence between you, and you can see the struggle in his eyes, the way he’s fighting to find the right words—words that you know won’t change anything.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and it feels like the final nail in the coffin. “I know I don’t deserve you. But I’m here now, and I want to make it right.”

You look down at the ring, that small circle of metal that once meant everything to you. It feels heavy now, like a weight dragging you down, a reminder of all the time you’ve spent waiting for something that never happened.

“I can’t wait forever,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need more than just words, Sid.”

For a moment, it looks like he might finally say something real, something that could change everything. But instead, he just stands there, silent, and you feel your heart break a little more. Because you know, deep down, that he doesn’t have an answer. He never has.

“You still wear it,” he spoke slowly, glancing down at the ring. “Doesn't that mean something? Anything? That maybe, maybe we should give this another try?”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of his words settle around you like a storm cloud. It’s so typical of him, to latch onto the smallest signs, to twist reality just enough to make it feel like there’s hope. It’s the same hope that’s kept you coming back time and time again, like a moth drawn to the flicker of a flame.

But this time, that flame feels like it’s burning out.

“Sidney, I never stopped loving you,” you admit, and it’s the raw truth, the kind you’ve tried to keep buried for so long. “But love isn’t the problem. It’s everything else. It’s you telling me we have a future and then disappearing when it matters. It’s you making promises you can’t keep.”

He reaches out, fingers curling around your wrist, holding on like he’s afraid you’ll slip away for good. “I’m different now. I’m ready. I know I said that before, but this time—”

“No,” you interrupt, pulling your arm back, the frustration building in your chest. “You’ve said that every time. You tell me you’re ready, that things will be different, and I believe you because I want to believe you. But then the same thing happens—you get busy, the season gets hard, and suddenly I’m on the sidelines again, waiting for you to make time for me.”

His shoulders slump, and he looks down, like he can’t face the truth of his own words. “I know,” he murmurs. “I know I’ve messed up. But I swear, this time—”

“Sid, listen to yourself.” You cross your arms, trying to steady the tremor in your voice. “This time, next time—there’s always a next time. But it’s just a cycle. It always has been. And I don’t know if I can keep believing that things will change when they never do.”

His eyes lock onto yours, and there’s a flash of something you haven’t seen before—fear, maybe, or the realization that you’re slipping away. “But I don’t want to lose you,” he says, his voice breaking. “I can’t lose you.”

For a second, your resolve wavers. You see the boy you fell in love with, the one who used to hold your hand in the stands and tell you he couldn’t imagine his life without you. But the boy grew up, and his dreams took him places you were never a part of, no matter how hard you tried to be.

“You already have, Sid,” you whisper, feeling the ache spread through your chest. “You lost me a long time ago when you chose everything else over us. And I don’t think you even realize it.”

He steps closer, his hand hovering near your face like he’s afraid to touch you, like you’re something fragile that might break. “I’m trying, okay? I’m here now. I’m trying to make it right.”

You close your eyes, fighting the tears threatening to fall. “You always say that. But it’s not about showing up when it’s convenient for you. It’s about showing up when it’s hard, when things aren’t perfect, and proving that I’m more than just an option.”

When you open your eyes, you see the pain on his face, and it almost makes you want to take it all back, to say that you’ll try again, that you’ll believe him just one more time.

But you can’t. Not anymore.

“Tell me what to do,” he pleads, desperation clear in every word. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

But that’s just it. It’s not something you can tell him. It’s something he has to want, something he has to choose—without you holding his hand through it, without you putting your life on pause, waiting for him to catch up.

“I can’t tell you how to love me, Sid,” you say, and it feels like the hardest thing you’ve ever done. “You either do, or you don’t. But I can’t be the one always holding this together. It has to be both of us, or it’s nothing.”

He looks like he’s about to say something, but then he hesitates, and in that silence, you feel everything shift. It’s as if the reality of the situation is finally sinking in for both of you.

“Maybe…” you start, your voice cracking, “maybe this was always going to be the end.”

His face pales, and you see the fear flash through his eyes, but you hold firm. “I can’t keep living in the past, hoping you’ll change. I need more than just words, and if you can’t give me that, then…” You take a deep breath, the weight of the years falling away with each word. “Then maybe we need to let go.”

Sidney’s lips part as if to protest, but then he stops. His hand falls away from yours, and the emptiness between you feels colder than the Pittsburgh winters.

You let out a bitter chuckle as the tears begin to fall. “We could've had a good life together, Sid. Everything you could've wanted. Kids, a nice house and some... some cute dogs,”

It seemed silly to say, but it was the truth. You swallowed as you looked, trying to stifle your incoming sobs. “And it would’ve been ours. Not just mine, or yours—ours.”

The words are raw, cutting through the stillness between you. You can feel the sobs building in your chest, threatening to spill out, but you hold them back, just for a moment longer. “But you never wanted that. Not really. Not enough to make it real.”

Sidney’s face crumples, and he looks like he’s about to speak, but you don’t give him the chance. “You always talk about wanting it all—wanting me, wanting the life we could have had, but then you pull away the second it gets too real. And I’m tired, Sid. I’m so damn tired of giving everything to someone who can’t meet me halfway.”

He shifts, taking a hesitant step forward, like he’s testing the waters, his eyes pleading. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want it,” he says, voice rough and cracking. “I just—” He rubs a hand over his face, frustration evident. “I didn’t know how to balance it all. I thought I’d have more time, that we’d figure it out eventually.”

“Eventually?” you repeat, the bitterness seeping through. “Sid, we’ve been at this for years. Years of back and forth, of me waiting for you to choose me. To really choose me. And every time, it’s the same story. I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending that things will be different.”

He stands there, shoulders hunched, and you can see the struggle in his eyes. It’s the same look he’s given you countless times before, like he wants so badly to fix things but doesn’t know where to start. It makes your heart ache because you know, deep down, he’s not a bad person. He’s just… lost.

And maybe, you realize, he always will be.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “I just—every time I tried to make things work, it felt like something else came up, and I kept thinking if I waited just a little longer—”

“Then everything would magically fall into place?” you cut in, shaking your head. “Life doesn’t work that way, Sid. Love doesn’t work that way. You can’t keep putting off what you want, what you need, and expect everything to turn out okay in the end.”

He takes another step forward, reaching out like he’s about to pull you in, but you take a step back, needing the distance. “I’m not asking you to be perfect,” you say, the tears finally streaming down your cheeks. “I just needed you to try. To show up. To prove that I was worth fighting for. But it feels like every time I turn around, you’re already halfway out the door.”

His expression falters, and you know he wants to argue, to tell you that it’s different this time, that he’s ready now. But you’ve heard it all before, and the words have lost their meaning.

“I wanted the house,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I wanted the dogs, the kids, all of it. I wanted us, Sidney. And I believed we could have it. But you kept pushing it off, and now… I don’t know if I can keep waiting for something that might never come.”

He reaches out again, and this time, you let him. His hand closes around yours, and it feels both familiar and foreign—like holding on to a memory that’s slipping through your fingers.

“I love you,” he says, and there’s a desperation in his voice that makes your heart clench. “I’ve always loved you.”

You give him a sad smile, knowing that, despite everything, that much is true. “I know,” you say, squeezing his hand one last time before pulling away. “But sometimes, love isn’t enough.”

And as you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the cold, you hope—maybe for the first time—that you’ll be strong enough to let go. Because you know if you don’t, this cycle will only repeat itself. And you can’t keep breaking your own heart for someone who won’t give you the life you’ve always wanted.

That night, you dreamed of the house. The kids, and the dogs and of him. You'd wake up, it would feel like how it did the day you met—warm and safe, like everything in the world had finally fallen into place.

The sun would stream through the windows of that little house you imagined, its golden light wrapping you in the kind of warmth you’d always craved. You’d roll over, and there he’d be, his arm draped lazily over your waist, his eyes still heavy with sleep but soft, so soft, like he was seeing the whole world in you.

The kids would run down the hall, their laughter echoing, filling the space between your shared breaths. You’d rise together, slowly, and there would be no rush, no impending flight or long distance to worry about. Just you, him, and that perfect slowness of a morning spent together. The dogs would bound into the room, tails wagging, and the day would unfold in simple, perfect moments—breakfast at the table, messy hair and pajamas, the feeling of his hand on yours as he refilled your coffee cup.

It would feel right.

And in that dream, it would all make sense—why you’d waited so long, why you’d kept coming back, even when you knew better. Because in that world, in that life, you had everything you’d ever wanted. It was real, and it was whole, and there were no questions, no doubts, no space for the silence that always lingered between you in reality.

But then, you’d wake up.

You’d open your eyes to the quiet, dark room, the emptiness of your side of the bed. There’d be no warm sunlight, no laughter echoing through the halls, no weight of his arm pulling you close. Just the cold, still air of your apartment, the hum of the city outside, and the realization that it was all just a dream—a dream you’d had a thousand times before, and one you knew you’d have again.

And as you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, you’d feel that ache settle in your chest. The one that reminded you that no matter how real it felt, it was only ever going to be a figment of your imagination. Because the truth was, you had to wake up alone.

In that moment, you’d wonder if he ever dreamed of it too—if he ever pictured that life, those mornings, the way you did. If he ever saw a future where he stayed, where he chose you and didn’t let go. But you knew that even if he did, it wasn’t enough. Because while you were left clinging to dreams, he was off living a life that didn’t have room for you in it.

You’d curl back into the blankets, pulling them tight around you, pretending for just one more moment that the warmth was him. That maybe, one day, you’d wake up to the life you’d always imagined, and it wouldn’t slip away like morning mist.

But until then, all you had were the dreams and the memories of a love that almost was—almost, but never quite enough.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[honeyhotteoks]

i genuinely can't stop thinking about yunho as a fallen angel... like...

yunho’s catholic confirmation name is stefano, which is i believe a reference to saint stephen. saint stephen is the patron saint of several different things, but the one that caught my eye was the patron saint of coffin makers. ive had that knowledge churning around in my brain for a long time, especially after watching the kdrama doom at your service, but after seeing these pictures my mind is absolutely spinning with fallen angel soulmate yunho brain rot……… so come along with me

•

fallen angel yunho. he's been wandering the earth for years, passing through life and people and history and he's never known the reason that he was cast out until he meets her, you. he hears you first, a distant voice in the back of his mind, a prayer to his saintly name, a name he hasn't heard in what feels like a millennia. a whisper to saint stephen, the man he used to be, many years and many bodies ago.

no one prays to him anymore, not really. certainly not a voice like yours, ringing clearly and angrily in his ear, a bitter request for a coffin to be ready in early spring. he thinks about the way it's almost winter now, the air turning crisp, and he wonders what in your life has you so angry and yet so practical about death.

he thinks of you for days, weeks, idlily waiting to hear the voice again. he dreams of it, sometimes wakes from a stone sleep to your bitter tenor, the clear catch of tears in your throat, but it's always a memory. he finds himself wandering the city for you, searching through churches, reverent houses of worship that you might be hiding away in. he doesn't expect to find your voice ringing out clear as day across the crowded room of a museum, full of life and joy and the picture of health.

he finds a way to speak to you, he's practiced in the art of conversation, of seduction even when the end goal isn't sex. he just wants to know you, to hear your pretty prayer in person, to understand your voice just a little and why in the world you were praying to him and not god himself like everyone else. in the midst of many, he makes a space for you both alone, the connection and the pull immediate and essential.

for a while, you make him smile, laugh, relax, he feels more at ease and more like a person than he ever would have expected. he doesn't understand you or your prayer though, not until you cough painfully, fitfully into your sleeve and he sees the bright kiss of blood at the corner of your lips. he never imagined you sick, but he supposes it makes sense. in all the versions of meeting you he imagined, this outcome wasn’t one he ever entertained.

he's never watched someone he's loved die before, at least not since his first life, and shamefully he barely remembers the names of his family from then. but somehow he knows he'll remember yours, the way he aches is altogether new and even though he knows it would be better to watch over you from afar, he just can't. and it doesn't help that you keeps finding your way to him around every corner of the city, coincidence after coincidence. so easy to joke about how it must be fate when it is in fact fate, pulling you tightly together and tying the knot tight.

he allows himself to love you then, and you allow yourself one last, good thing. he never lies about who and what he is, and you never really believe him, for all you know he's just a figment of your imagination. a hallucination from one of your tumors like the doctor warned you about. you think if cancer can give you one gift before dying, at least it's him.

for a little while yunho thinks his purpose in falling from grace was to love you, after all you prayed to him, no matter how bitterly. but he understands the truth the moment he meets your daughter, the moment he realizes his purpose for you is much more than momentary, final happiness.

and so he carries you forward through those final months, easing your pain and your giving you one last chance at real, lasting love. and he helps ease you into the other side, his promises whispered tearfully into your hair, that he'll see you again but only after he stays by her side. your child's own guardian angel, happy to watch over her and guide her until it's her time to come home too.

and of course, that means he has to wait. you both do, but he's already waited, even when he didn't know what he was waiting for.

[bangsinc]

A Spot x Reader

Where Spot is feeling super insecure - mainly bc everyone left him bc he became the spot but only the Reader stayed. And so when he becomes insecure about himself and not feeling good enough for Reader — can reader lift him up and tell him how perfect he is? 🤭 Something along those lines.. Totally feel free to add or change anything!!

💕Insecurities (Hcs/Drabble)💗

This is so so adorable! Ofc I’ll do this :). And thank you so much for being so polite!!! I’m sorry for the wait btw everyone, I’m working on requests I promise! I’ve jus gotten very sick B)

Also, just wanna add I’ll be making a masterlist for my stuff since so many ppl are requesting and I want it to be easy for everyone to find stuff! <3 and ill be making better cards

Days and nights seemed to never go by ever since the collider incident. Jonathan Ohnn, a man higher than life itself it seemed, reduced to nothing. He yearned for the life he once had, the fame, the community, the job.. but then again, he’d let what happen happen again if it meant you would be there for him.

You were the only person who understood his struggles, it seemed. But words and actions can’t heal wounds easily. He finds himself rather frequently lying awake at night and wondering what could have been. There’s so much he can’t do for you. So much he can never provide. Not even a kiss.

But.. every morning, he wakes up in your arms nonetheless. Your comfort never-ending, your words charming enough to even get to a man like him. A man who believes he’s not worth anything of the sort.

The longer you’re together, the more assured he is that you’re his soulmate, his one and only. He would never be possessive, or sociopathic to you though, but he believes your connection is more than mortal. He’s never seen unconditional love before, and he wishes to cherish it while it’s in his arms.

Often you find yourself holding him, lulling him to sleep despite his cries. He can’t shed tears, but his voice speaks more than his emotions. He’s learned to be good at that skill, since his face is.. nothing.

He holds onto you, begging to never leave him, but your words continue to come. You don’t shun him, or mock him for being so vunerable either. He’s yours, and you’re his.

He knows he can never repay this, he knows that he can’t even show the same affection you show for him, and he most certainly knows one thing. That you love him, forever and always.

The raidos melody flew past the both of your ears as you layed down on the comforter, the fabric clinging to Spots face as he spoke what could only be considered gibberish. His body, while erratic, never dared to move away from your touch. It was all he could feel, all he could care about in that moment.

“Y..you don’t need to always comfort me it—it’s nothing I..” He takes a deep breath, his hand covering the hole on his face to convey embarassment. You use this opportunity to hold his face in your hands, your bodies entangled. The raido was a distant memory, for now.

His cries don’t cease, at first. Instead, he clings to you, his arms wrapping around your figure in a desperate attempt to prove that this wasn’t something that.. would go away. Something that wouldn’t change. He could change, and you could change, but your love for eachother remained. Your love will change, but sometimes change is good.

He’s coming to learn that.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Hello, Mr. Monster 8

Summary: Eros and Psyche inspired Soulmate!AU, Morpheus x female OC/reader

Master list

Chapter Warnings: SMUT A/N: So... I did a sneaky in this chapter. First one to guess correctly gets a 500 word Sandman drabble (you can give me a prompt or let me go wild - your choice). This is the biggest tender!fuck I've ever seen. Like damn. It's an important beat between chapter arcs, and there are some themes/hints ya'll should really take note of. For reasons. All I want for my birthday are comments, my dears! <3 Thank you for your ongoing support.

8. Seal

What happened?

Creeping out of the fog, she swept together the distant pieces of her waking mind, looking for a thought, or a plan, or…

What happened?

She’d had a wonderful dream. Safe. Warm. Happy. If she could fall back asleep and drop back into that place – those arms – she would, but a sleeping mind never followed the same course. She was waking, and it was over.

But she didn’t remember going to bed.

That was all right. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten drunk or collapsed after days without sleep. Not a problem.

But –

She hadn’t set her wards.

Her eyes snapped open, and her hand sprang out, reaching for the bag of black salt she always kept near her bed in the van. Anything could come, anything could already be there. As she jerked to consciousness, full of half-remembered terror – the mirror, the unseelie, her skin, the dress – long fingers caught her flailing hand. They wove seamlessly between her own, pulling her attention down to starry eyes. Soft lips pressed to her knuckles, calling her back from the brink of delirium.

“All is well.” Morpheus’ thumb rubbed along her throbbing pulse, distracting her from her panic with tactile affection. He read the beat as her memory settled, as she recalled where she was and what they’d shared. He must have felt the spiking rhythm, too, judging by his smirk.

He was beautiful. And definitely naked under the grey silk sheets that gathered over his waist.

She licked her lips, at a loss for words as the butterflies she thought she’d banished sprang back to life in her stomach.

“Hello.”

Yes. Excellent. Definitely the most romantic greeting after waking up for the first time in a lover’s bed. In her fucking eldritch soulmate’s apparent love nest, actually. So far as she could tell, they weren’t even in a room. She could see him easily, but beyond the place where they were lying, she could only see vague, bushy shapes that could’ve been clouds or trees. Lights flickered in them. Maybe stars. Possibly fireflies.

No visible exits. Not even a floor, in fact.

Though it wasn’t like she was in a rush to leave.

“Hello.”

Following his gentle tug, she sank back to rest on her side, facing him.

He was so beautiful. She’d already thought it, but damn if it wasn’t worth thinking twice. With his disheveled raven hair and self-satisfied expression, he looked at least half as debauched as she felt.

Which reminded her.

Oh shit.

She was naked, too.

Her free hand moved towards the sheets that had fallen all the way to her thighs when she sat up, but his disapproving pout made her second guess herself.

Covering bare skin was instinctual. Especially after everything she’d suffered in –

No, no. Not thinking of that. She physically shook her head to banish the flashes of pain and fear trying to manifest.

She was safe. She was happy. Her Dream was real, and she could be vulnerable with him in this world apart. Nothing would hunt her here. Nothing would dare. He would avenge and protect her.

Carefully, consciously, she let her hand drift from the sheets, and Morpheus smiled in the wake of her decision.

“My love,” he purred, looping an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him, “I want you.”

He nuzzled into her neck, kissing under her ear and finding new places her blood pounded under her skin. She found herself trying to remember language, how to speak in anything but sighs. Prince of Stories. Right. Whatever. Prince of Carnal Brainmelt more like. He made it impossible to think, working little bites over her flesh as he continued his eager assault, leaving her squirming, and desperate, and tongue-tied.

Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she felt them burning far below her skin. Below flesh and bone. Stars were only cold because of their distance, and she was much too close to see them as anything but suns. She knew it was reckless to look, to stare back and let the heat blind her, but…

She couldn’t pull away now, even if she wanted to. He didn’t need prison bars and pansies to trap her.

Panting, she finally strung together an answer. “I want you, too.”

Her words brought him back to her lips, and he wasted no time licking into her mouth, sharing his heated groans. One hand slipped around to cradle her head. The one he’d used to reel her in crept down, brushing along her waist, squeezing her hip, and settling on her thigh. Strong fingers pulled her leg over his hip, and she groaned back into their kiss as his clear desire brushed her clit.

He didn’t press, only dragging himself through her folds as he explored her mouth. When she stopped for breath, he kissed under her chin, palm flexing just over her knee. She writhed with his slow strokes, enjoying the moment but far from satisfied.

“I need you.” Kissing his brow, his cheek, his lips, she sang her yearning. “I need you, Morpheus.”

Her words found him and burned the way his eyes flamed in her soul. She saw them kindling in his gaze as he pulled away to watch her face, swallowing every flicker of expression as he teased her entrance. And pushed inside.

The world hummed.

It was all beginnings and endings and discoveries. Dream was himself, and she was with him.

He moved so slowly, and she clung tight, shaking as the pleasure built with the inexorable pace of sunrise. Clutching his shoulder, his back, she fought to keep breathing, to keep her head above water as he pushed and pulled inside. Gods. He’d drown her, and she’d gladly find death here in his arms.

“You asked what I want.” He wasn’t as helpless to his physical manifestation as she was to her human body, but his rough voice proved how she affected him, and a sunburst of pride glowed in her breast. “Perhaps I was dishonest with myself. I want the measure of your dreams and your waking hours, too.”

He hunted for her fear, waiting for the golden moment to snap under the weight of his confession. His searching eyes flicked over hers, desperate but guarded. She didn’t know what to say. If she could say anything. But she wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t threatening her – this was an invitation. And she could only invite him back, let him feel the truths she couldn’t name yet.

Her hands settled on his face, trying to soothe the needles of anxiety, his anticipated despair. She offered more kisses, pulling at his lips, welcoming and reciprocating each touch in an effort to reach deeper. Too feel even more.

His grip on her thigh tightened, and he rolled half over her, leaving his sedate, almost drowsy lovemaking behind. Still tender, but openly needy, he picked up speed, using the new angle to his advantage.

She thought she’d been breathless before – fuck.

“I want… a life. A story. You.” He was begging. Commanding. On the cusp of claiming his own dream.

He didn’t take. He shared. They gave and met in true union, tasting elements beyond bodies to melt through time embrace destiny. A snare of their wyrds. A welcome loss wrapped in discovery.

Her heart would burst. There wasn’t enough of her to hold the love for something so vast as her monster, her Morpheus, and as he hiked her leg even higher on his waist, she grabbed him by the hair. She needed him. She needed his kiss, his breath, or she’d fall apart. He obliged, but she knew she’d go to pieces regardless.

As his thrusts grew more erratic, she broke.

The most exquisite destruction.

He pushed as deep as he could reach as she pulled out his own end, but he didn’t give her space to breathe. Rolling again so she was half draped – entirely boneless – over his chest, he kept his defiantly hard length inside. She’d have rest, but no peace.

Stroking her hair, he murmured into the crown of her head, “Stay, my love. I’m not ready to let you go.”

[jjameslily]

tied to you, ch. 3

soulmate au - a continuation of my microfic posted for jilymicofic's august prompt ( read chapter on AO3 )

if i ever promised chapters would be 1k or less no i didnt

“What?” Her voice cracked, the word barely escaping her lips. 

“Were you aware of the connection?” The man repeated calmly. 

She blinked, realizing with a start that she had stopped listening. His words were a distant noise, only half-processed as her mind wandered. 

It hadn’t been long since she had stirred awake, sunlight coming through the high windows of the hospital wing. The day blurred as she was quietly led from her bed to a cramped office beside the infirmary. Pomfrey had closed the door behind her, leaving Lily alone with a man dressed in healer robes now sitting across from her. 

The question hung between them as her mind flitted from one hazy memory to another—fleeting and half-forgotten moments from her childhood she had buried deep. But even as she tried to dig them up, none made any sense to her. She shook her head slowly, her throat tight from the moment the healer had begun to speak. 

“Ms. Evans,” the healer filled the silence, “I can understand this is all quite overwhelming. But if you wish to have better control over your connection, you must open yourself to it.”

Her eyes snapped to him. “You mean what happened wasn’t normal?”

He shook his head. “It’s difficult to classify anything as ‘normal’, as the manifestations are quite rare, but I suspect what happened last night could be an effect of a suppressed bridge between souls.”

Her breath caught. “Rare?”

“While we once believed having a soulmate in itself wasn’t entirely uncommon, their manifestations have certainly dwindled since the old days.” He paused, as if he was giving her a moment to catch up. “To put it simply, it’s rare that a bond presents itself clearly—if at all—nowadays. One could live their entire life completely unaware they’re only half of one whole.” 

“What makes it manifest then?”

He gave her a sympathetic look. “Soulmate bonds are ancient magic, and very unpredictable. There aren’t fixed rules to them nor are there any leading studies that suggest one reason over another. It just… happens.” The healer paused, studying her carefully before continuing, “For now, I recommend meeting with me over the next few weeks, to guide you through…”

But Lily’s mind began to drift again, the healer unable to keep her attention. Soulmates… suppressed bridge…old magic… She could barely process it. Her stomach was in knots as the idea shifted uncomfortably within her. 

Who was her soulmate? How was she meant to find them? Did she want to? The gnawing loneliness she had always carried—had it been shared or had it been her own doing by closing herself off and building her walls up for years until it was just a distant period of her childhood?

When the healer was satisfied her condition was stable, Lily was allowed to take the rest of the day off from classes to rest. She let her feet carry her absentmindedly, moving with the vague intention of heading to her dormitory. The laughter of students rang in the corridors and faces rushed past her, the noise muffled as Lily wandered aimlessly, disconnected from it all. 

It wasn’t until the sharp breeze touched her skin that she felt herself pulled back into her body. Her legs had carried her toward the lake, its glistening surface providing her some relief under the late afternoon sun. 

Lily wasn’t sure what drew her to it. Perhaps it was the way the water reflected the sky as it did in her dream. She imagined herself back in that forest, the trees rustling in the breeze around her, the invisible string tugging at her hand. Without realizing it, she began to reach out—not with her hands, but with something from deep within her.

Hello? The word drifted out, awkward and clumsy. The image of a deer blinking back at her made her feel foolish as she was met with silence.

For a moment, nothing happened. The stillness wrapped around her, amplifying her uncertainty as she waited with only the sound of her heartbeat drumming in her ears. 

But then a laugh filled the empty space. Something not just heard, but felt—and somehow familiar. It brought forward a surge of color, a small spark that flickered in the darkness, and she then sensed it—a presence. 

Don’t worry, came an amused response. I’m human. 

Lily’s breath hitched as she heard his voice in her mind. The sensation was like a light breeze stirring around her, or the brush of fingertips just barely grazing skin. It was gentle, almost deliberate in the way it slowly came to.

It’s you, she said almost in a daze.

He didn’t say anything, but hesitation fluttered within her. She was stunned at the realization that the feeling wasn’t her own. 

Soulmate. The word she had heard all morning seemed to glow as she thought it, escaping before she could reel it in. In this part of her mind, her thoughts and words were intertwined in thin, silvery ropes that she struggled to differentiate.

His presence hummed in response either way. Didn’t you know? 

How would I have known?

Her memories came rushing through then, crashing like waves on the shore, too loud and too fast. The healer’s clinical tone as he spoke to her, the clicking of his pen as he wrote down notes, Lily’s guilt as she grappled with the fact that she had intentionally suppressed their bond—yet completely unaware that someone was on the other side of it. 

There was an indistinct shudder that passed through them, then a pause. In the silence, she felt him sifting through the tendrils of their shared connection, brushing against her thoughts tentatively. A feeling of surprise surged through her, tinged with something else.

I thought you did... We’ve talked before, just once.

Lily felt the ghost of his own memory surfacing, almost as if she was recalling it herself. Grief pooled like cold water in her chest as he unraveled the memory slowly, almost carefully. Hands clutching a tear-stained t-shirt, the sound of her shuddering breath as she held back her sobs, the force in which he felt her voice calling out to him. As gently as he tried, it still tugged painfully at her as she remembered willing herself to believe it was her father—needing it to be her father—who had spoken to her one last time.

Everything around them began to shake. It was too much. 

Without a word, she pivoted from the memory, every image and every feeling shattering like glass. As everything fell away, she was plunged into what felt like an endless void, the sensation leaving her disoriented and nauseous as noise buzzed loudly in her ears. Instinctively, Lily reached out for something solid, desperately searching the contents of her mind for anything to ground her, and in an instant, the darkness fell away—replaced by something else entirely.

It was like stepping into a room bathed in rich golden hues, the kind that filtered through windows on a brilliant summer’s day. It was as though the air itself was sparkling with life, filling the space with a gentle hum that radiated through her and ignited a sense of comfort.

Where her own mind felt like a maze of closed doors and shadows, this space was inviting and bright. She didn’t feel the need to push past any barriers or pry anything open.

And, suddenly, it struck her that this was him—his consciousness. 

His amber-lit presence filled the room effortlessly, welcoming her as if he had nothing to hide. 

I’m sorry, he said earnestly. I should have warned you about the memories. 

What was that? 

I’m not sure… I didn't realize you could do that. We’ve never been connected this long.

As she settled into this new space, she realized how calm he had been, despite it all. You don’t seem surprised having a stranger’s voice in your head, she accused. 

Well, I’d argue we’re not strangers , he said, and almost as if to tease her, the word that had escaped from her mind earlier floated back to the surface.

Cheeky, she replied, unamused. You must think you know me well enough to be this annoying already. 

His laugh rumbled deep and warm, a pleasant sort of sensation that vibrated through her. Lily was surprised by the way she responded to it.

I’ve known you your whole life, he said smoothly.

Just casually lurking in the background all this time, were you? 

Let me show you, he said, his tone shifting slightly. 

Her mind went blank for a second. He offered her no words or memories this time, only feeling, but she understood all he was trying to convey as she felt his consciousness expand and move through her. 

He didn’t know her name, or her face, but he had always been there—in some intangible way, just beneath the surface. To him, they had always existed in the same space, intertwined yet distanced. Unknown yet familiar.

It almost frightened her how easily he shared his mind to her, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him.

It’s not a bad thing—a soulmate. 

Her pulse quickened, mind flaring with resistance she couldn’t help. Of course not… I just have to share my every waking thought with you…

She felt his laugh again, and wondered what it would feel like to mentally kick herself as she hadn’t meant for him to hear that thought again.

Can you hear all my thoughts? Her question was laced with wariness.

Usually, no. Can you hear mine? 

She waited, half expecting to hear something ridiculous, like elevator music playing in the background. 

No, but I can feel what you feel.

I can too. 

All the time?

Not quite. I think they have to be particularly strong. So far though, you seem to do it unconsciously.

And my memories? 

Those are trickier, he explained, and it irked her a bit that she was so out of her depth while he seemed so much more in control. 

He continued, It’s like quickly flipping through pages of a book. It’s just bits and pieces without much context. They can be hard to understand.

Lily felt a rush of relief. Good, I’d hate for you to know all my embarrassing secrets. 

I’m sure I’ll figure them out eventually, he responded playfully.

Brilliant, she said dryly, but a smile tugged at her lips for the first time. 

Don’t worry. You haven’t let me in since we were kids , he reminded her, and in that moment, she felt the depth of his patience for her. I haven’t seen anything you didn’t want me to—at least, not on purpose.

But as he said the words, it triggered a curiosity within Lily, setting loose a single silver tendril. Before she even knew what she was doing, she peered deeper, reaching for it. She heard him begin to protest, felt him attempt to stop her, but it was too late. 

With her unintentional touch, Lily opened the floodgate.

[the-port-mafia]

My Dazatsu Week entries. I had hoped to do at least 4, but ended up doing 12😳 It was a lot of fun😆

Day 1 - Coffee shop/Soulmate AU bounded by destiny Dazai’s eyes widened in surprise. “I never expected to meet you.” The majority of people never got to meet their soulmate. It was a rare occurrence that only a select few ever got to experience.

Day 2 - Band AU Best Kept Secret Dazai leaned over the couch and read one of the tweets and grinned, “Atsushi’s partner must be amazing! #couplegoals”

Atsushi nearly leapt off his seat from fright. He hadn't heard his boyfriend come home. "Osamu, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Dazai kissed Atsushi’s cheek and climbed over the couch to cuddle up beside him. “Our fans would be the only ones having a heart attack if they knew the truth. Like, look at the username of that account - 'ihatedazai'. They wrote, ‘It's obvious, whoever it is, they're the best person for Atsushi. They make him incredibly happy!' If only they knew it was me.”

Day 2 - holding hands we're not like that "How long have you been dating Atsushi?" Chuuya questioned.

Dazai nearly tripped over his own feet at the question. “What?! I’m not dating Atsushi-kun.” He hoped the blush wasn't noticeable on his face.

Day 3 - Sunset It Began at Sunset Dazai had become pretty distant from Atsushi, so when he receives a message from his boyfriend saying 'they needed to talk,' of course he's going to think the worst.

Day 3 - High School AU Gossip "Why would Dazai-sensei date someone like Nakajima-sensei?”

“Akutagawa-senpei, you've got to have noticed the way Dazai-sensei looks at him.” Higuchi happily sighed. She wanted a relationship where someone would gaze at her with even half of the admiration Dazai had when he looked at Nakajima.

“Tch, if anyone is sneaking looks, it's Nakajima-sensei.” Akutagawa didn't understand why most of the students were so invested in finding out if Dazai and Nakajima were dating.

Day 3 - Amnesia I want this life Dazai ran his hand through his hair but stopped when he felt something cool on his finger. Dazai's eyes widened in disbelief when he saw a gold band on his ring finger. It couldn't possibly be a wedding ring? Was Ranpo pranking him? Was he still annoyed with Dazai for stealing one of his snacks, and was this his little act of revenge?

Day 4 - sic fic Fever Confession When Dazai calls in sick, Kunikida sends Atsushi to check in on him. Day 5 - Beast AU future is bright Since Dazai triggered the singularity that connected him to the other universe, he's been having a difficult time thinking about anything else. Being able to read the memories of the other Dazai and seeing how happy Atsushi was in that world made his heart ache. Dazai had never seen his Atsushi's smile shine so brightly before, as he did in the memories of the other Dazai. Day 6 - Reunion Deal Breaker Atsushi had never felt so nervous as he stood in front of his new boss, Mori Ougai. When he first heard that a member of the agency had to transfer to the Port Mafia, he could hardly believe it, and he would never forget the silence of the agency when Fukuzawa announced Mori had chosen him. Day 6 - Reunion give me a sign “I don’t know how I can keep doing this, Dazai-san.” Atsushi buried his face in his hands. “I'm trying to be strong and hold on to hope, but I've heard nothing.”

“If I just knew if you were alive…” It would give Atsushi the strength to keep going.

Day 7 - Post Canon I will tell you as many times as it takes for you to believe it “Just tell him.” Ranpo commented as he skimmed through a report.

“I can’t do that, Ranpo-san.” Dazai mumbled.

Ranpo rolled his eyes and put aside the report he was reading. “And why not?”

“Atsushi-kun doesn’t like me in that way.” Day 7 - Free Day Isn't he pretty? “Dazai! That’s the boss of the Port Mafia.” Kunikida whispered harshly.

“But more importantly, he’s my boyfriend.” Dazai beamed. “Isn’t he pretty?”

[demigoddessqueens]

knowing me, knowing you

Based off the ABBA song, and the reincarnation + soulmate trope

Summary: Headcanons on Namor facing his lover being reincarnated in many lifetimes.

You always wore a different face every time he sees you, but he knows it’s you. The eyes are the window to your soul and it’s those same eyes that he always recognizes.

- in your first lifetime, you were a defender for your people. Facing against those who wished to do you all harm and take your homes, you lament what feels to be the end as your cries carry out to the sea shores. Ancient prayers are answered as the Feathered Serpent God repels said forces and delivers your people to victory.

-in that night, you two bond and you forever remain within the crevices of Namor’s mind

- in your second lifetime, you were reborn a noble. Fair and kind to all, you never truly fit in to the high society. Still, your acts of kindness do not go unnoticed, especially when you save an innocent who survived a storm’s shipwreck. From the murky waters, Namor’s eyes and ears hear for your soothing voice as you nurse them back to health. Humming a familiar tune that you once sang to him centuries ago after a victory.

- in the third life, you belonged to no one and no people. It was a lonesome life, but you made one for yourself on the sea. A storm crashes and rages against your crew one night, casting you into the sea as you push your first mate away to safety. Plummeting into the dark waters, you fight with all your strength before surrendering to the dark. You feel something pull you close, a soft touch that gently holds you as life and air is breathed back into your lungs and soul. You find yourself reunited with your crew by morning on the shore.

- now, in the fourth lifetime, you stand proudly before him years after the shaky alliance gains ground. A Senator and ambassador for Wakanda, Namor refuses to leave your side. A new face but still the voice and eyes that he never forgot. You’re confused as to why he looks at you like that, but it’s flattering all the same. Like he treats everything you say as the most important words that hold value to him.

-“you don’t recognize me, my love?”

-“Your Highness, I don’t think I’m the one you take me for.”

-speechless, confused, worried. You don’t know what to make of all this and try to keep things professional despite the distant and morose demeanor that seems to follow Namor in the days that follow.

-that night, the dreams that have long followed you become memories. Beaches, a victory, and a gentle song fill that hole that’s plagued your very being for a long time.

- you remember

- the next day, in the early hours of the morning, you arrive first while softly humming that familiar tune. Namor turns to face you, eyes filled with an imploring reassurance as he tightly brings you close to him.

-“you remember! You’re here.” “I’m here.”

[ginxyy]

A Romantic Rhapsody

My soulmate Minghao

A Romantic Rhapsody: Moments with Minghao

Underneath the sprawling canopy of stars that blanketed the sky, I often reflect on how the cosmos aligned our paths. I can still remember the first moment our eyes met, across the crowded room at one of those infamous Seventeen fan meetings. Minghao, effortlessly hypnotic, with that contagious smile that could light up the dullest of days. My heart fluttered wildly in my chest, a tiny bird desperate to break free. Little did I know then that spark would ignite a love story far sweeter than dreams could ever conjure.

Our tale began in the midst of bright flashbulbs and exuberant screams. I couldn’t believe my luck as I found myself sitting just a few feet away from him. Minghao's laughter reverberated through the air, a melody that struck a chord deep within my soul. At that moment, I felt an unexplainable connection, as if the universe had expanded just to weave our preordained destinies together. I couldn’t tell if he noticed me; I was just another face among the crowd. But to me, he was the center of my universe.

As luck would have it, our shared love for wanderlust led to the creation of what I now lovingly call our spontaneous adventures. Our first real memory together, outside of the fan meeting, was a day trip to Hyangilam Hermitage. Minghao had an insatiable need to explore; I can still picture him, his eyes gleaming with excitement as we wandered the narrow, winding paths of the picturesque temple. The scent of pine trees enveloped us, and at that moment, the world beyond felt distant and irrelevant. It was just him and me, laughing about everything and nothing at all.

I remember the sun hanging low in the sky, casting a golden hue on everything it touched. We sat on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the shimmering ocean, a dip of waves gently kissing the shoreline. The wind tousled his hair, and he turned towards me with that dreamy gaze that made my heart skip. “So, what’s next on our list of adventures?” he asked, a playful grin on his lips. And in that moment, I felt like the luckiest person alive, my heart brimming with joy.

From that day forward, we became inseparable. Our moments together filled every beat of my heart with pure, untainted bliss. We explored cafes tucked away in hidden alleys, indulging in the sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee while weaving dreams of future travels. With Minghao, every conversation felt electric, every shared glance sent sparks flying.

There was a night when we bundled ourselves in layers of clothing and ventured out to witness the city waking up. The streets bathed in moonlight looked like a scene straight out of a fairy tale. His hand found mine, fingers interlacing comfortably. We walked down the empty streets, bustling with stories untold. “Do you believe in destiny?” he asked, and his question was so sincere that I couldn’t help but think for a moment. “If it means finding you, then yes,” I replied, and we both laughed, the sound echoing like music in the air.

Minghao had a knack for the whimsical. He surprised me with random picnic dates, appearing at my doorstep with a basket filled with all the things I loved bread, fruits, and a bottle of sparkling juice. One particularly sunny afternoon, we sprawled out on a blanket, the gentle breeze whispering secrets around us. With the sun kissing our cheeks, Minghao took my hand, leaning in closer. “You know,” he started, a playful glimmer in his eyes, “I think I could do this forever.” My heart soared at the thought, and in that moment, our laughter intertwined like the most beautiful symphony.

Movies were our escape. I fondly remember how we turned into couch potatoes, binge-watching romantic dramas that fed our souls with sweetness. One rainy evening, curled up on the sofa, our fingers intertwined, I turned to him and said, “What do you think love feels like?” He pondered for a moment, his brow furrowed in the cutest way possible. “Like… having someone to laugh with, to cry with, and to annoy just a little,” he replied, mischief dancing in his eyes.

Fluffy clouds eventually transitioned to raindrops, but nothing could dampen our spirits. Rainy afternoons felt magical with him by my side. As droplets splattered against my window, we would sit by the cozy warmth of our favorite café, drinking steaming cups of cocoa, engaged in playful debates and heartwarming conversations. Those sweet moments where I could lose myself in his warm gaze, feeling entirely at home in his presence.

As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, every memory we created together layered upon the foundation of our love. One evening, he turned to me with an expression that seemed a mix of curiosity and excitement. “If I were to ask you to be my partner in every adventure, from now on, would you?” A lump formed in my throat; I felt an overwhelming wave of emotion wash over me. “With you? Always,” I whispered, our hearts dancing together in an unspoken understanding.

When I think about love, I think about Minghao and all the extraordinary magic in the mundane. How every ordinary day could transform into something ethereal just because we were together. Love isn’t always about grand gestures; it’s in the thrill of the shared moments the laughter echoing in quiet corners and the stolen glances that linger longer than expected.

In the end, it was our collection of simple, sweet moments that defined us. It was the playfulness in our conversations, the warmth in our embraces, and the sparkle in our gazes that held the essence of our love. Life with Minghao, enchanted and whimsical, felt like a beautiful dream a never-ending fairytale that painted our hearts in shades of romance, laughter, and pure fluff. And as I lay beneath the stars, dreaming of all the adventures waiting for us, I couldn’t help but smile, knowing that my heart had found its home in him.

[yomogi-mogi-mochi]

Myth Inspired Twst Series

Access my masterlist here. Already written:

Lilia x Dullahan MC (Oneshot)

Malleus x Light Fae Changeling MC (7 Parts- Completed)

Rook x Pygmalion MC (6 Parts- Completed)

GN terms for all!

Vil x Orpheus MC (Completed)

You're one of the ancestors of Orpheus- great poet, lyricist, and musician. However, your family is cursed to sing songs of heartbreak, woe, and sorrow until your last days due to Orpheus disrespecting Dionysus shortly before his death (his head was cut off, thrown into a river Hebrus to sing mournful songs). The gods also cursed you for all of your relationships to end in heartbreak until you find your soulmate- someone you would venture to the ends of the earth for (based off of the Orpheus and Eurydice myth). Many of your family members were driven to madness- singing songs of sorrow without having a soulmate to share them with; and many of the lovers of your family members met their untimely demise from the wrath of Dionysus. This curse is as well known as the prolific poets and bards of your family, so though people enjoy your songs- they stray away from getting romantically involved.

Despite this curse, you sing your songs with a merry tune- gaining reputation at NRC as the party person/just someone who knows how to have a damn good time. You're a hopeless romantic- falling quickly- but it all ends the same when you confess- "You know how it ends- you get it right?" . You laugh with a knowing smile- because what else could you do in the face of such absurdity?

You're childhood friends with Vil, and he's watched your heart get broken many times. Despite his feelings for you, he doesn't think you'd want to be with someone like him. The ones who did find their soulmate in your family were together with other bards, kings, heros, honorable soliders- so he thinks it's a very low probability that he's actually your soulmate- especially as he us typecasted more and more into the villan role (and is somewhat comfortable in that role with his sharp tongue, even towards you)

Slow burn ensues- friends to lovers dynamic :)

Azul x Mute Siren MC (Completed)

You used to be a relatively well-known singer in the Coral Sea, even being invited to the Ashengrotto family's restaurant on occasion. However because your mother is also a famous singer, you have a lot of her harsh standards to uphold. One day you disappear from the public eye because you are affected with the hanahaki disease- the cause of which is unknown to everyone. Azul, as a child, is worried- but you soon become a distant memory

My take on hanahaki disease is a little different- I think it could affect many types of love including familial, parental, etc. Heartbreak and unrequited love doesn't only exist in romantic contexts. When you find that you're mother doesn't truly love you- but loves you for the extension of herself that you are- you begin coughing up carnations- a flower which symbolizes a mother's love.

Finding that the flowers permanently damaged your throat after surgery- your mother sends you off to one of her sisters since you're no longer of use to her. You grow up in the Southern parts of the Coral Sea at your aunt's flower shop, before your enrollment into NRC where Azul is surprised to find you (and the slow burn begins >:) )

You speak through the language of flowers- hanakotoba- your aunt teaches you. Though no one really reads into the symbolism of flowers, Azul is familiar with it since it was one of your interests as a child.

Jamil x Shikigami MC (Completed)

As a Shikigami, you are bound to your master (an Onmyoji), to serve him until death. Shikigami are usually seen as gods, spirits, or a representation of an Onmyoji's power- so there is no escape from this life unless your Onmyoji is killed, or willingly sets you free (if you've ever seen Spirited away- they're those little paper things thay follow Haku). Because Shikigami are expendable, they're usually set up for less favorable tasks like spying, stealing, assassination, stalking, etc.

Because Shikigami are usually not able to be seen through the human eye- you show quiet signs that you don't actually have a corporeal form- like no shadow, no reflection, no footsteps, no shine in your eye, doll-like limbs. But the body that you're in actually used to be yours- which was cursed into a Shikiouji (a more elite and powerful version of Shikigami) form because you angered a powerful Onmyoji in your past life.

You are ordered by your master to enroll into NRC and kill the Kamil. However- you are stopped by Jamil, who takes you to the headmage who orders temporary in school suspension. Jamil sees your master put hands on you due to your failure- and his instinct kicks in- ordering the Onmyoji to free you. Little does he know this makes him your master now, and you trail him where ever you can.

Though he wants you to leave him alone at first, your admiration of his true skill and talent slowly begins to reveal the humanity in you, as well as bringing him out of his own shell. Enemies to friends to lovers

Lmk what you think (゜゜;)

Feel free to add!

[deobienthusiast]

something blue | choi chanhee

• pairing: best friend!chanhee x female!reader

• word count: 3.5k words

• genre: fluff, slight angst

• rating: PG

• warnings: weddings, reader is kind of being an asshole, fake friends, and our favorite curse words

• notes: *sigh* thank you to sana ( @heemingyu )for your not so serious but also super serious betaread of this. now that i know what really gets you going i mean continue to hit at that now😘😘 I LOVE YOU

• tagging: @deoboyznet

• synopsis: after getting into a big fight with your best friend the day before your wedding, you’re left wondering if he’ll even show up.

Whoever said your wedding day is the happiest day of your life is an absolute fucking idiot. What is there to be happy about if everything isn’t perfect. You wouldn’t consider yourself a perfectionist by any means, but when you have a vision for something you expect it to be pretty damn near close.

The process of planning your wedding didn’t start when you got engaged to your amazing fiancé Sangyeon. It started when you were a kid, sitting in your living room watching the Disney princesses who had happy endings and fairytale weddings. You knew you wanted a wedding similar to those of the princesses. Which princess didn’t matter, but as long as the wedding was to your standard of perfection, it would be fine.

Alongside your planning was your best friend, Chanhee. He wasn’t just your best friend. He was your person, or as your fiancé liked to say ‘your soulmate’. You had never really believed in soulmates, but when more and more people pointed out that you and Chanhee could be soulmates, you began to listen. It made sense. Chanhee was always there. From your earliest memories in Kindergarten to graduating college, to getting your dream job. Everywhere page in your mind was littered with your best friend. The small, skinny kid that would bring you pretty blue forget-me-nots every time he saw you. Chanhee helped you plan your dream wedding, combining elements of each Disney princess into one big wedding. He called himself your unofficial wedding planner. He made sure everything would go off without any problems, even threatening to throw out some of your work friends if they got too drunk.

Chanhee even planned your pre-wedding party. When you and your wedding party went out, Chanhee had everything covered. From the party bus, to dinner, to the club, your best friend was on it. Chanhee only wanted the best for his best friend, while you only wanted him to at some point let loose and enjoy himself.

The dinner you and your wedding party went to seemed like such a distant memory now. Despite having been only a couple of hours ago, the amount of alcohol in your system made it seem like dinner was months ago. You and your work friends were trashed, to say the least. Hopping from table to table, stealing people’s drinks, getting heavily belligerent with anyone that tried to stop you. You were on a wrecking ball, wreaking havoc across the club. People were starting to complain to the managers, and Chanhee was just trying to find your purse and shoes that you somehow rid yourself of in the midst of all the madness. His constant apologies were falling on deaf ears as all people wanted now was for you and your rowdy entourage to leave.

“Hey, why don’t we sit and have some water?” Chanhee asked you, having finally caught up to you.

You were once again at a table that was not yours as you took a shot from the hands of one of the guests occupying the table. “Water? I don’t need water, Chanhee. I need more vodka!”

Chanhee gave a sympathetic look to the other partygoers as he spoke. “I’m really sorry. I’m trying my hardest to get everything under control.”

The guest who’s drink had been stolen scoffed. “Try harder dude. This is ridiculous.”

The people at the table stood up, moving from the area as Chanhee began to get frustrated. You had never acted like this before. He always said your work buddies only brought out the worst in you, but you never listened to him. In fact, Chanhee couldn’t even spot any of your so-called work “friends”.

“Where is everyone? I want to hit up another party.” You yelled.

Chanhee grabbed your arm, ripping the glass from your hand as he began to drag you towards the exit. “They left! And that’s what we’re doing.”

On his trek towards the door, Chanhee spotted your shoes and purse, squeezing behind a nasty trash can that they were sitting behind. He let go of you momentarily to make sure your credit cards, ID, and cash were all still in your wallet. As his fingers slipped through the loops of your heels to pick them up, he heard a loud crash. Turning around, a table filled with bottles of vodka had hit the floor and you were now face to face with an angry patreon.

The girl was screaming in your face about how you didn’t need to be drinking anymore, while all you could do was yell back about how she wasn’t the boss of you. You were having a good time, why was everyone trying to stop you. Chanhee pulled you back to him, heading for the door before stopping.

“Shit, the tab.” Chanhee whispered.

You were still yelling over your shoulder to the girl as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his card. He wasn’t even sure what the final bill was, but he was willing to pay for it if it meant getting you out of the club in one piece. The bartender took the card, looking over the slumped over state of you as he shook his head. He swiped the card, pulled out a receipt and handed both the card and receipt to Chanhee. Your best friend let out a sigh as he practically carried you to the exit. When he got outside, he sat you down on the curb as he began to call someone.

“Where are we going?” You asked, your sentence is just barely able to be made out by Chanhee.

The boy looked at you as he rolled his eyes. “The hotel.”

You perked up. “I don’t wanna leave. The girls are still inside.”

Chanhee shook his head. “That’s too bad. They can find their own way back to the hotel.”

“I don’t wanna leave.”

“You are beyond drunk. You can barely stand, you have no shoes on, and you are so fucking lucky someone didn’t rob you. You’ve made a mess of yourself and this club, you have no choice but to leave.” Chanhee said sternly.

The alcohol in your system didn’t like the way he was talking to you. He had never talked to you like this before.

“Why are you being so mean?” You asked rather loudly.

Chanhee let out a humorless laugh. “I’m being honest. You need to go to bed. It’s three in the morning on your wedding day. You have to be up early for breakfast, you have to have your makeup done, you can’t stay out with them any longer.”

He heard you begin to mumble as he began to get impatient. All he wanted to do was get you safely to your hotel suite, and go to bed himself.

Why wasn’t the driver picking up his fucking phone?

“You’re just jealous of them.” You said softly.

Chanhee froze. “What did you just say to me?”

You looked up at the boy, eyes wide as you spoke louder this time. “You are just jealous of my relationship with the girls. I see them everyday, and we don’t see each other every day. They are better best friends to me than you are.”

The phone that was covering his ear was now down by his waist. “How dare you?”

You could only look back at the boy, the realization of your words now dawning on you. “Chanhee,”

“Do you know what I’ve had to go through to make sure your fucking wedding day is perfect? I’ve given up my own personal time to be here and plan EVERYTHING for you. May I remind you that I was the only one that helped you pick out your outfit. I helped pick out the food and recommended the bakery for the cake. I found the DJ, the place for dinner tonight, and the fucking club. I have kept you from getting arrested tonight on more than one occasion. I’ve canceled plans to be at your beck and call anytime that you have ever needed me. I’ve done everything for you from the time we met each other when we were five! No one, and I mean no one, will ever be a better best friend than me.” Chanhee yelled.

Before you could speak, he continued. “Do you think they are better than me? The person that has held your hand through sicknesses, the person who has been there to pick up the pieces through every heartbreak you’ve gone through with shitty guys. I introduced you to Sangyeon. He was my friend first, and yet he seems to be the only one appreciative of what I’ve done, not just for him but for you. Not once have you ever told me thank you for anything. Anything!”

He dropped your shoes, grabbing your hand from the sitting position you were in to smack your purse into it. Chanhee brought a hand up to his forehead, rubbing over it as he began to feel a migraine coming on. He could hear talking on the other end of his phone as he tossed it to you, making you flinch as it hit your chest.

“Find your own way back to the hotel. Or better yet, go ask your best friends since they are better to you than I am. They can get you back to the hotel, and they can help you out in the morning. I’m done!” Chanhee said.

He turned quickly on his feet, walking off in the opposite direction of the club. You felt tears well up in your eyes as you tried to get yourself up to stop your best friend. His legs carried him quickly to a bus that had stopped at a bus stop as he hopped on it. You watched the bus pass you as you let out a sob.

You didn’t sleep very well when you got back from the club. All you did was cry over what Chanhee had said, and your work friends were beginning to get annoyed. They merely dropped you off at your suite and left to continue their night. All you could do is sit against the headboard of the hotel bed as you looked around the lavish room that your best friend had spent his hard earned money on, reminding you that as the bride you “deserve the best”. Now you weren’t so sure.

The alarm on your phone went off, signaling that you needed to get up, but you didn’t really have the energy. In fact, you weren’t even sure you wanted to get married. You knew that wouldn’t be fair to Sangyeon, calling off your wedding over the fact that you got into a fight with your best friend. Although Sangyeon would’ve understood, you couldn’t do it to him. A knock at your room door pulled you from your thoughts as you groaned, dragging your body weight out of the bed.

You looked through the peephole on the door and groaned again, seeing the cheery face of your mother and future mother in law. Opening the door, both ladies squealed.

“Happy wedding day!” Your mother exclaimed happily as she pulled you in for a hug.

Sangyeon’s mom did the same before pulling back just slightly, whispering to you. “Are you okay dear?”

You looked at the woman, feeling tears well up in your eyes. You gave her a nod, trying to force a smile on your face. She wanted to speak again before your mom interrupted.

“You need to shower, and you need to be quick. Makeup won’t wait all day. And all day isn’t what we have time wise.” She said, pushing you into the bathroom.

The only sound that left your mouth was a sigh as you let your mother practically manhandle you into the shower. She was quick to pick up your pajamas that you don’t even remember getting into last night as she exited, leaving you to wallow in your own self pity as the hot water cascaded onto your skin. You slowly washed your body, attempting to scrub the dead skin, sweat, and the memories from last night off of your body and down the drain. You weren’t sure how long you were in the shower, having at some point zoned out. The water had gone cold, and you were beginning to shiver as you turned the handle, shutting off the shower.

When you pulled back the curtain, the remaining steam from the previously hot water was still fogging up the bathroom. You could see it get pushed around from the sudden release of cold air from the cold water. You noticed a towel and satin bathrobe set upon the countertop. Reaching for both, you quickly dried off and threw on the bathrobe before opening the bathroom door and letting your mother whisk you off to your makeup appointment.

The day dragged on. All your work friends managed to make it to the venue for hair and makeup. Strolling into the building wielding water, liquid IV packages, sunglasses, and a hangover, they didn’t look very pleased anymore about the time you chose for all of this. They let the artists get them ready with no complaints, just barely sparing you a hello. You weren’t all that thrilled to see them either, so this didn’t bother you a bit. Your mother was making her rounds, checking on each girl before one of them got sick, making her stop to tend to the one person that couldn’t handle her hangover. This gave Sangyeon’s mom a chance to check on you.

“Hey,” She said softly, catching your attention. “Are you okay? Truly?”

You couldn’t turn your head due to the makeup being put on so you opted to just locking eyes with her through the mirror.

“Is it that obvious that something is bothering me?”

She chuckled. “I’ve known you long enough to see a change in your moods.”

For the first time today, you cracked an actual genuine smile.

“I got into a fight.” You said quietly.

“With who? One of the girls?”

Shaking your head. “With Chanhee.”

“Oh sweetheart. I’m sure it wasn’t too bad.” She cooed.

You chuckled. “He’s not here, is he? Something tells me he’s not with Sangyeon either.”

Your mother in law frowned as she excused herself, pulling out her phone as she stepped outside the room you were in.

The artists were slowly getting everyone finished as each girl got into her bridesmaid dress. You were the last to be finished, and you could hear the shouting and greeting of your guests making their way into the venue hall. Your bridesmaids left you to go mingle with some of the single men that your future husband had invited to keep them controlled. Your mother helped you get into your dress before disappearing herself to greet guests.

The words Chanhee had said to you continued to run through your mind, making you zone out once again. You were starting to get upset as someone knocked on the door. You checked your makeup in the mirror as you walked to the door. You went to grab the handle to open the door before someone put weight on it, keeping it closed.

“Hey,” Your fiancé’s voice rang through the wood of the door. “Don’t open it. It’s bad luck for a groom to see his bride before she walks down the aisle.”

A sense of calmness washed over you at the sound of Sangyeon’s voice.

“I missed you.”

He chuckled. “I missed you too. I’m ready to marry you.”

This time you chuckled. “So am I.”

You both laughed before he spoke again.

“I just wanted to check on you. My mom said you were a little down about not seeing Chanhee yet.”

You perked up slightly at the mention of your best friend. “Has he shown up?”

The other side of the door was silent before Sangyeon spoke. “He didn’t tell you? He got sick. He must have come down with something while he was out with you. He stayed back at my hotel so he wouldn’t get anyone else sick.”

Your eyes closed as you let out a sigh. You couldn’t believe it.

He wasn’t coming.

“Oh, okay. He must have just forgotten.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it. He always bounces back, you know that.” Sangyeon told you.

You wanted to reply before hearing a loud yell from the other side of the door.

“There you are man! We’ve been looking for you.”

You’d recognize the voice anywhere.

“We’re stealing your husband back real quick. You’ll get him back when you walk down the aisle!”

“He’s not my husband yet, Eric. You can take him, though.” You said with a roll of your eyes.

He patted the door in response before Sangyeon replied.

“I love you.”

You could hear him get dragged away by the younger boy as you picked up your dress so it wouldn’t drag, walking back towards the makeup station you were previously sat at. Pulling out your phone, you pulled up Chanhee’s contact. Your finger hovered over the call button before you jumped.

The far side door opened, revealing your best friend dressed in a tux. He closed the door behind him quickly as you stood up.

“Chanhee!” You said happily.

When he turned to look at you, you quieted quickly. He looked dejected, hurt, as he made his way towards you.

“I was supposed to give you this last night. However, due to certain circumstances, I got distracted.” Chanhee whispered.

You swallowed hard, trying to gulp down the knot in your throat. He reached into his suit jacket as he pulled out a box. It was black leather, with slight tears in it. He handed it to you quietly, choosing not to say anything.

Gently taking the box from him, you opened it. You let out a gasp as you took in the beautiful sight before you. The box held a beautiful hair clip decorated in white gold with blue diamonds.

“It’s a forget-me-not. Our flower.” Chanhee uttered out.

He took the clip from the box, pulling you to stand centered in front of the mirror as he slipped the clip into your hair. The lights in the room made the blue diamonds sparkle as he spoke.

“I found it in a thrift shop. It was a family heirloom that eventually ended up in the shop. I figured you’d like it. Brides are supposed to have something old, something new, something used, and something blue, right? I guess it falls under every category.” Chanhee told you softly.

You couldn’t help but bring your hand up to your hair, running your fingers over the emblem. You should’ve told him it was beautiful, should’ve said thank you.

Instead you opted for this.

“You came.”

Chanhee nodded. “I couldn’t miss your wedding even if I wanted to. You're my best friend.”

Feeling your eyes start to water you whipped around, pulling him into a tight hug. Chanhee hugged back, just as tightly, as he let out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled out into his jacket.

You felt him shake his head. “It’s okay.”

“I don’t deserve you.” You mumbled again.

This time, Chanhee chuckled. “You’re right. That’s a conversation for a different day, though.”

You two pulled apart to look at each other as he spoke again.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Come on. Let’s go get you married.” He said, walking you to the door.

You let him lead the way before you both stopped. You took a deep breath before looking at your best friend. He gave you a smile.

“You're the best Chanhee! I love you.”

Chanhee chuckled. “Careful. Sangyeon might think you’re falling in love with me.”

You both laughed as your mom opened the door, greeting Chanhee happily as she told you everything was ready. As she led the both of you to the front of venue, Chanhee was ready to walk you down the aisle as he whispered to you.

“I love you, too!”

all written works on this blog belong to @deobienthusiast and are protected under copyright- absolutely no translating/reposting or claiming my work as your own.

[wizardingdiaries]

🥀 angst | ☁️ fluff | ✨ faves | 🔥 smut

🪐 already on notes | 🍂 to be read

Draco Malfoy 1

By lastheavcns

sectumsempra ☁️ - AU where it was the reader who hexed Katie Bell.

soulmates ☁️ - AU where at the age of 16, the first words your soulmate says to you appears on your wrist then fades away after meeting them.

faking it 🍂 - You fake a relationship with Draco Malfoy to avoid a classmate.

drunk nights ☁️ - Draco stumbles into your dorm room late at night.

remember me 🍂 - Reader loses her memory of Draco and their relationship, and he pretends they were never together at all.

By henqtic

𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦 🥀✨ - Ever since the beginning of the year, Draco just needed someone to hold him.

𝘈𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘔𝘦 𝘈 𝘋𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 ☁️ - what would happen if your parents arranged for you both to attend the yule ball together.

hot chocolate and cookies 🍂 - post-war dracoxreader with a lot of fluff

By iwritesiriusly

Distant 🍂

Comfort Crowd ☁️

Cold 🍂 - Draco noticing the reader is cold and constantly trying to offer his sweater to her.

By awritingtree

Crystals and Stars 🍂 - Draco arrives at the Astronomy tower in hope of some peace and quiet. What happens when he finds a familiar face already there?

Can’t Help Falling In Love 🍂 - Y/N and Draco Malfoy have been forced into a marriage.

By willowbleedsonpaper

Carrot Cake 🍂 - soulmate au post war.

By coffee--writes

Expecto Patronum 🍂 - In which, Draco Malfoy was never able to cast a Patronus. At least up until now…

By selenes-sun

Two 🥀 - angsty

By heloisedaphnebrightmore

By your side 🥀✨ - Draco is suffering alone and you can’t stand aside anymore, watching him losing himself in pain.

I like me better 🍂 - Draco is having a hard time, but you are there by his side, reassuring him of how much you love him.

By iliveiloveiwrite

Healer | Healing Hands 🍂 - An injury takes you to St Mungo’s where you run into a familiar face. (post Hogwarts).

Unrequited? 🍂 - Parties are always the catalyst for confessions.

Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble 🍂 - Draco needs a new stockist.

How To Stop Time: Touch ☁️ - Please could you do a soulmate au where time stops when soulmates touch for the first time.

this life is short, darling. so come, run away with me. 🍂 - talks of the future.

Secrets 🍂 - “Is that my shirt?”

Tell Me Something Good 🍂 - “I think I’m in love with you.”

Somebody’s Heartbreak 🍂 - “Are you… Are you flirting with me?” (fake dating)

home is wherever I'm with you 🍂 - Draco x Reader with a Post War AU friends to lovers.

Bets and Bludgers 🍂 - “I can’t even look at you right now.”

First Date 🍂

Accident Prone 🍂 - Healer!Draco and his quidditch player gf who always ends up injured somehow.

Something I Need ☁️🥀 - some angst - nightmares, reader comforting Draco, lots of fluff and love.

Haunted Forests 🍂

Good Days and Bad Days 🍂 - fluff and comfort and a really cheesy ending.

Love Languages 🍂 - Five times Draco shows you he loves you, and the one time he tells you. 

Stargazing and Waltzing 🍂 - stars and waltzes tend to lead to something more.

Chase Away The Dark 🍂 - reader has some awful nightmares and Draco wakes her up and comforts her.

Chasers and Cuddles 🍂 - draco who’s sore and tired from quidditch pls with a Slytherin reader.

Better 🍂 - academic rivalries, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, making out.

Late Fees ☁️ - A Librarian AU that absolutely no-one asked for.

Wait For Me 🍂 - draco performed the obliviate curse on his gf before the war, then met her again post war when he became a healer.

Love 🍂 - Draco x reader where they are dating in school, maybe just chilling and he realises he truly loves her.

In Dreams 🥀 - In dreams, he talks with you.

Take Me To Your Heart 🍂 - love me tender, love me sweet, never let me go.

Time Heals 🍂 - The aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts is a time for healing for everyone, Draco included.

By dracomalfoysslave

masturbation schedules 🔥

Sweet and Sour 🔥

By finnwrld

Always so cold 🍂 - the five times Draco Malfoy gave you his jumper and the one time you accepted.

By mirclealignr

a beautiful dream 🍂 - “I let you hurt me because i thought you would hurt less”

[toomanybandstocare]

{I've Got My Mind On You}

Program: Birthdays...no longer come with presents wrapped in a bow or bring your loved ones together for your celebration. Unable to break away from the sadness and loneliness that you've come to associate with a day meant to for fond memories, you drift away and separate yourself from the people who stand by you everyday. Each day, Jesse keeps his eye on you terrified of the person who's taken your place. This is year that everything changes for the better, but that can only happen if you let it.

Pairing: Arc Trooper Jesse x Intelligence officer, GN! Reader

Alt Pairing: Arc Trooper Jesse & Intelligence officer, GN! Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Length: 4584w

Warnings: Overwhelming negative emotions around birthdays and feeling unwanted, Use of "them" as for sentence structure purposes, Barely edited

Camp Resolute Masterlist

ClonexReader Masterlist

Prompt: party For @clonexreaderbingo event hosted by the lovely Ghost.

Counselor Note: Purely self indulgent. I just needed to put my emotions, or as much as I could, onto paper with how my birthday came about this year. Could be read as romantic or as platonic soulmates.

No matter how many times the 501st has stepped foot into the GAR’s barracks on Coruscant, everyone feels uneasy as they begin to slowly unpacked their mud caked and blood stained gear. Even though the battle was a success, an imperative one at that, your shoulders ache from the tension that weighs down on them. It seeps into your fatigued body and finds its home in your tired bones. Everyday you woke up this month, a knot of dread twisted and sank deeper into your core at the distant memory of your approaching birthday.

As you place your datapad on your side table, your gaze locks onto the date displayed alongside the weather and music options on your holo-chronometer. Your heart lurches, and you feel as if you’re going to be sick. Just two more days until you ignore the previous year’s stinging memories. Just two more days until the dash of hope that holds your heart together snaps. Just two more days until you treat your birthday like it’s any other day of the year. Nothing special. Nothing worth celebrating, especially when you’re all alone.

Your lungs constrict, and you force yourself to finish placing the last pieces of clothing and tactical gear in their designated spots before laying down on your bunk. With a groan, you rest your head on your arms and close your eyes as the rest of the 501st begin to plan their nights out on leave.

“Fives, we always go 79s. We’re not saying we don’t want to go, we just want to visit some new spots as well,” Echo exasperatedly explains as he kicks his duffel under the bunk.

“This is the first time that the 212th, 104th, and 501st have been planetside in who knows how long,” Fives exclaims and throws his hands up, “And you want to choose now to go to a new bar? No way - we’re going to 79s as much as we can during this leave”.

“No one’s saying they can’t come, di’kut,” Kix throws one of his black tops at Fives with a grin.

“Who would have thought Fives would be the one to shoot down the possibility of meeting new partners,” Jesse chuckles as he sits on the edge of his bunk. As he leans over to unbuckle his boots, his gaze falls on your bunk. The gnawing concern that’s grown as the month’s progressed overtakes his mind as you seem completely detached from reality. Desperate to pull you away from whatever dark place your mind travels to as of recent, Jesse calls out your name.

Deep in your journey through memories locked away in the back of your mind, a sharp sting of adrenaline causes your eyes to fly open and your heart to race as you shoot up in panic. Your gaze snaps to the pillow sitting in your lap. Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you shake off the residual nerves settling across your skin as you narrow your gaze to search for the guilty culprit. When you look across from you, it only takes Jesse’s mischievous smile to know who threw the pillow at you. “Not funny,” you breathe out and throw the pillow back at him. You try to let yourself relax, but you can’t find it in yourself to put the mask back on.

Jesse catches the pillow with ease, and his expression softens lightly when he truly sees how solemn you look. “Got any plans we could crash?” he asks with a slight hope in his casual tone. Jesse’s chest stings as watches you practically curl into yourself. What happened to lose the spark he’s come to adore and associate with you?

“Probably just disconnect and hide out at my apartment,” you mumble and shrug your shoulders.

“You can’t do nothing on your time off,” Fives gently protests. His expression hardens into one of worry as the discussion shifts to your plans. Everyone in the company has noticed your change in demeanor and energy, and every member has voiced their concern to Rex who wasn’t able to figure out the root of your change. Even the collected captain keeps a wary eye out for you more than usual lately.

“Come join us,” Kix adds on, “I know you’re probably sick of spending all your time with us, but we promise to be on our best behavior”. He chuckles lightly, but it soon dies as Kix sees your lip wobble.

“I’m not in the party mood,” you firmly state. Your voice wavers as tears sting your lash line. As the last of your walls start to crumble as tears threaten to fall, you jump off your bed and grab your backpack as you hurry for the door. Guilt mixes with sorrow to create a nauseating sensation in the pit of your stomach as you leave the barracks without another word.

As the door hisses shut, the members of the 501st are surrounded by an uncomfortable blanket of silence. One that gnaws at Jesse’s nerves and sends his heart racing. Unable to pull his surprised gaze from the barracks entrance, he chews on the inside of his cheek.

“That’s a completely different person than the one we’re friends with,” Heavy quietly murmurs.

“Regardless,” Jesse says slowly as he snaps his boot buckle, “still our friend. There’s only one person that I can think of that knows them better than us”. Grabbing his comlink, Jesse walks towards the barrack’s entrance while tuning into their assistant medic’s private channel. “Kiva? Where abouts are you?” Only static responds of a second, and Jesse’s lungs constrict as he passes through the door. 

The chances that the medic has already left the base are slim, but still high enough to make Jesse walk faster through the durasteel halls. His heart hammers as his footsteps echo against the metal plated floors. Check the civvie barracks first, then the medic station. Take the slightly longer route to the medbay and check the entry-exit log at the base’s entrance. Jesse’s mind races to figure out how to find the Nautolan medic that he barely hears the call chirp to his comlink. 

“Kriff, Jesse - can’t a guy take a nap in peace. Not even an hour planetside and one of you already needs med attention? Give us a break,” Kiva sighs through the audio channel.

“Kiva,” Jesse breathes out in relief, “Where are you? This isn’t about med attention. I’m worried about-”

“Leave it alone, Jesse,” Kiva swiftly interrupts.

Jesse falters at the medic’s harsh tone. Coming to a stand still, Jesse leans against one of the support pillars. “What do you mean leave it alone? Something’s not right,” he pushes back. Frustration begins to spark in his voice as Jesse scans the hallway to find somewhere more private to take this call. Kiva’s evasiveness causes an uneasy feeling to bite at Jesse’s skin. A moment of silence passes, and just as Jesse goes to check the call connection he hears Kiva sigh.

“It’s like this every year,” Kiva explains, “The month leading up to what’s supposed to be a birthday, it’s like they shut down. Right? I don't know what happened for it to get like this. Each year, they disappear to their apartment and won’t come out until a couple of days later”.

As the medic shares his limited knowledge, Jesse’s expression hardens into one mixed with confusion and worry. With a spark of determination, a plan begins to form in his mind, and a smile tugs at Jesse’s mouth. “Then I’ll need your help if we’re going to pull this off. When’s their birthday?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Jesse,” Kiva hesitates. “We don’t know why-”

“If you felt the same about a day that’s supposed to be about celebrating you and all you’ve achieved this year, wouldn’t you want someone to go the extra mile and celebrate with you? Know that someone loves you so much that they'll celebrate you even when you feel like it’s worthless?”

The comlink falls silent for a moment. All Jesse can hear is air ventilation willing above him and the dull rush of blood to his ears. His body tenses as the seconds come to a stand still, and he balances on the edge of anticipation and false hope.

“Then we’re going to need all the help we can get with only two days to plan and prep,” Kiva states with a determined laugh. “How can I help?”

“I need a key to the apartment, and you need to act as a distraction. Leave the rest to me and the boys,” Jesse rushes to explain. The stoney expression melts into one of relief as Jesse turns on his heel to rejoin the rest of the company.

Kiva’s static laughter echoes against the sterile halls, “I’ll send you the keycode in a little bit. Why do I get the hardest job?”

Jesse’s smile grows as he responds, “Because you’ll draw the least amount of suspicion”. 

The minute you step foot into your cozy, city apartment you feel the last of your walls crumble. As the entrance door hisses shut behind you, you hastily throw your bag to the side of the entryway. Tears flow down your cheek while you furiously rub them away while walking through the dark living room to turn into your bedroom. Your head spins as a mixture of overwhelming emotions causes a dull throb to sear at the back of your forehead. Just a few more days until you could move on from the choke hold that past disappointments have on you. Tugging off your well worn travel clothes, the fabric snags and refuses to slip off your body causing a wave of frustration to crash against your skull alongside your headache. With a defeated sob, you toss your clothing to the side and fall on top of your bed. Unable to hold back your cries as you tug the duvet over your body and tuck yourself away from reality.

The next two days are filled with excited chatter and lethargic depression. Each hour passes, ticking closer and closer to the anticipated birthday. Time blurs as party planning brings together some of the most well respected commanding officers during the day and bleeds into the night when lungs cry out for relief against the chain that wraps around them to lock away a broken heart. 

Late morning sunbeams break past your blinds, and you toss and turn in your blanket cocoon. Unwilling to pull yourself from semi-consciousness, you burrow further into the covers. Your under eyes feel sore and puffy as you press your face into a pillow. Stretching your aching muscles, you faintly hear the alarm disarm with the door opening. Even though that should send you into alertness, the thick blanket of numbness dulls your senses.

“Kriff,” Kiva quietly mutters.

“It’s not usually this bad,” you groan. You wince at the realization that your room is a complete mess, even by your standards. “I thought I told you I wanted to recharge alone. Finally enjoy some peace and quiet,” you mumble into your duvet.

The edge of your bed dips, and your body slides against Kiva’s. A gentle hand comes down to rest on what can only be assumed as your shoulder under the mounds of blankets and sheets. “One of the intelligence officers landed in the medbay,” Kiva sighs, “Captain Rex has requested for you to come in as soon as possible. We just intercepted a new set of Separatist codes”.

The weight of his words sinks into you with a churning unease and defeat. Even though your birthday comes with mixed emotions, you had hoped to at least avoid working on the dreaded day. “I need some time to wake up and get dressed,” you quietly reply, “Might as well put on a pot of caf for us while you wait”.

Minutes crawl by as Jesse keeps a careful eye on the apartment’s entrance. Excitement and nerves bounce around inside him as he waits for the two of you to exit. Every so often, his comlink chirps with someone eagerly asking for an update. 

“How much longer,” Fives complains over the channel frequency.

“Maybe if you grew up a little, you’ll realize it’s normal for people to take their time to get ready. Especially when called into an unexpected shift on shore leave,” Jesse hisses in response. His gaze flickers up from his comlink as the entrance signal chimes, and he steps into the side alley. Peering around the corner, Jesse watches as you and Kiva step into your speeder and a new wave of determination washes over him. 

When your speeder pulls away from the platform and disappears into the flow of traffic, Jesse wastes no time getting to the entrance and punching in the visitor code. “Alright, Fives. Bring everyone in,” Jesse signals his brother as he walks through the lobby. “We don’t have much time until Rex and Kiva bring our ad’ika back in a worse mood than when they left”. Jesse cuts off the call as his brothers shout in excitement, and he steps into the elevator that shoots him up to your apartment level. His gaze stays fixed on the level indicator, and nervous jitters make him tap his foot. There’s no reason for this to go wrong, but the gnawing fear of crossing an unspoken line makes Jesse’s stomach twist. He doesn’t want to become one of the reasons you hate your birthday in the future. The elevator ding jolts him out of his thoughts and causes his heart to pound against his chest. There’s no going back. Determined to show you just how many people care for you, Jesse steps into the hallway and rushes to your apartment.

“You really don’t need to walk me home,” you quietly break the thick silence surrounding you and Rex.

The night sky begins to tuck away the blazing sunset behind the city skyline. Your footsteps fall in time with Rex’s creating a metallic beat as you near your apartment building. After having spent the afternoon decoding messages with dated intel with Rex, you finally shut off your holo-top for the evening. The searing pain that’s throbbed between your eyes for the last few days now drums against your skull. The thought of breaking a cypher only to lead to more disappointment makes your head spiral, so you told Rex you were done as you packed your bag. Concerned with how late it had become, the captain had insisted on walking you home when you found out Kiva already left for the evening.

Evening traffic speeds past you as the two of you walk across the platform from where you parked your speeder to the building’s entrance. Your apartment building looms above you, and you punch in the resident code. The cool temperature eases the burning sensations that stings at your skin as the two of you enter. Even through your emotional fatigue, something hasn’t sat right with you since Kiva first visited this morning.

“It’s not even that late out,” you point out. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rex stiffen as he shifts his weight from one foot to another. Wariness overcomes you and sharpens your senses from the lethargic haze that you’ve grown used to.

Rex ducks his head and sighs. “You haven’t been yourself lately,” he slowly explains. Without giving you the chance to interrupt, Rex punches the elevator call button.

The sudden noise makes you wince, and your heart speeds up. Why would he care so much? “It’s not healthy to put on a facade. I’ll at least do myself the favor of not bottling up my emotions and pretending like I’m okay when I’m not”. Your voice wavers as he motions for you to enter first. When you move into the small elevator, Rex quickly joins you. Your eyebrows raise, and you press your floor button. The wariness shoots pin pricks at the back of your neck.

“Seems like you’re hiding from the people who actually care about you and want to help you feel like yourself again,” Rex’s words come out harsher than either of you expect. His eyes widen, and his gaze snaps to meet your own. “I’m sorry,” he stammers, “That came out sharper than I meant”. Rex sighs and runs a hand over his face.

Your heartbeat pounds against your chest, and you feel sick from the flush that’s overcome your body. Grateful for the floor chime, you exhale a breath of relief and  step out of the elevator. “It’s fine,” you cooly dismiss his apology. When the sound of his footsteps follow you out into the hall, your face pinches. “Rex, I promise I’m not upset with you,” you practically snap. The firmness in your voice mixes with the frustration that overheats you and the desperation to be finished with this awful day. Heart thundering as you stand in front of your apartment door, you lock your heated gaze onto Rex. Yet, confusion only spurs your temperament further when you catch the faint, sad smile on the captain’s face.

“Maybe not yet, at least. Happy birthday, ad’ika,” Rex softly responds.

Your hand shakes hovering above the keypad. A coldness freezes over your body, and the overwhelming sharp dullness of flush sizzling across your skin makes you dizzy. Unable to meet Rex’s concerned expression, you turn away and hastily punch in your code. As soon as the door hisses open, you dart into your apartment desperate to hide away and allow yourself the comfort to let your emotions out in privacy. Rubbing at your eyes furiously and blinking away threatening tears, you walk through the entryway and throw your bag to the ground. Fleeting memories and a headache pound against your skull, and you feel as if the room’s spinning. With one hand, you press the light panel and a soft mix of colored lights float across the walls.

“Happy birthday!” a chorus of voices call out.

You jump back, tripping on your footing. A careful hand steadies you from behind, and you lean into Rex’s hold as your shocked gaze bounces from troopers to friends to family clustered in your small living room. When you try to speak, only a small noise breaks past your disbelief.

“Alright, alright,” Jesse motions for everyone to relax, “You’ll have a chance to chat with our guest of honor later. Let’s let them get used to this”. When he drops his palms to his sides, his palms feel sweaty. Every breath he takes feels shallow, and his lungs begs for air. Unfortunately for him, the little oxygen circulating through him escapes when Jesse turns to see your glassy eye expression. The way you shy away into Rex’s side as your eyes scan the room makes his heart stutter. Walking over to you, Jesse flexes his fists before hooking his thumbs into his pants’ pockets. “I’m sure this is a lot, but we just wanted to make sure you celebrated yourself,” Jesse softly explains.

Your wide eyes meet Jesse’s compassionate gaze, and you feel as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. “Did you plan this? This is too much. You should all be out enjoying your time off,” you rush. Even you hear how watery and strained your voice sounds. Rex’s traces soothing circles into your side, and the tension slowly releases from your body.

One of Jesses’ hands comes up to rub the back of his neck, and he breaks away from your gaze. “Everyone put this together. Rex, Wolffe, and Cody were massive a help in making sure all your friends and family got here. And then your 501st boys got the supplies ready. Really it was Kiva who pulled it off by getting you out of the apartment today,” Jesse rambles on and trips over his words, “Which, I am so sorry you had to do fake work. No one should work on their birthday, especially you. You already do so much for us, but we didn’t know how else to get you to leave so we could set up -”

Your lip wobbles as you listen to Jesse’s stumbling explanation. Without hesitation, you step forward and wrap your arms around his waist. Leaning your head on his chest, you feel his heartbeat quicken under your blushing cheek. 

A hand gently rubs your shoulder, “And to answer your question, Jesse did plan this. Got all of us organized and made sure all your party felt comfortable and relaxed so you wouldn’t feel too overwhelmed”. He squeezes your shoulder, and you hear Rex call out to his batchmates with a chuckle. 

Fully expecting for your cozy apartment to have been turned into a temporary 79s location, you relax as you look around the room to see your closest people lounging and laughing together. Lofi plays softly just above the chatter and occasional laugh. A small collection of gifts sit next to your favorite birthday treat on the center table. Fairy lights twinkle from above, and you’ve never felt more at home than you have at this moment. Normally just a place to find solace and solitude when you’re on shore leave, your apartment finally feels alive as your friends listen to your squad’s stories and your family checks each trooper to make sure they’re well taken care of.

“This is -” your words break off as a sudden sob overcomes you. Your throat tightens, and tears sting at your lash line. The burden of so many difficult memories bubbles up, and you finally allow yourself to let go of them. Tears stream down your cheeks, and your lips feel chapped as they kiss the corner of your mouth. Each droplet leaves a bittersweet taste to your tongue as they melt away. Your heart hammers against your chest, and it feels as if it’s going to break from just how much love has been returned. Lifting your blurry gaze, you faintly make out Jesse’s soft adoring expression as you share a grateful smile with his small one. “Thank you.” you say as firmly as you with a shaky breath.

“I don’t know if I overstepped, so I’m incredibly sorry if I did,” Jesse quietly begins, “I just couldn’t sit and watch you disappear from us. Once I knew what was making you so … broken, I couldn’t let you spend another birthday alone.” Jesse tightens his arms around you, and his hands tremble as he presses you closer to him. His stomach knots from your grateful expression, and it twists as he watches another tear fall across your cheek. With one hand, Jesse carefully wipes it away letting his fingertip gently graze your cheekbone before cupping your jaw. His chest constricts as you lean into his palm. “Even if it meant you didn’t want me in your  life anymore for intruding, I didn’t want you to think that no one didn’t want to celebrate you and your accomplishments. All of your boys have been concerned, and we just wanted to bring back our ad’ika,” Jesse mumbles. 

Fear isn’t an emotion that Jesse’s allowed himself to dwell on many times. Nerves prick his skin at the thought that this could be the last time you ever wanted to see him. That he had only hurt you more than he helped you. Wherever your mind takes you on those dark journeys inward, that you’ll remember tonight alongside the other heartbreaks. That terrifiesJesse most. But this isn’t about him. He would have to learn to go about his day without looking for you in the room, and maybe one day he could forget about how natural it is for his mind to wander to thoughts about you. So when the moment your hands come up to cup his face with a touch so soft, it nearly makes him sigh, Jesse feels all the growing anxiety and gnawing fear dissipate from him.

You shake your head with a watery laugh, “I don’t think I could push you away even if I tried hard enough.”

“I would just keep reaching out to you until I caught you,” Jesse softly agrees, “I’m not letting you slip through my fingers, ad’ika.” Even as Jesse relaxes and pulls the two to lean against the wall as a way to try to keep your conversation away from the others, a concern tugs at the back of his mind. Unable to shake it off, Jesse’s soft expression hardens slightly with worry. “Just tell me if I’m overstepping or if you don’t want to talk about it. What happened that made your birthday something to avoid rather than look forward to?”

Heart plummeting, you feel relieved that he finally asked. You can’t tell if it's a relief that neither of you are walking around it anymore or that you can finally tell someone how you feel about the day. Your hands slip from his face, and you rest them on his chest. The steady rise and fall of his breathing helps ground you as your mind races. “It just … turned into another day,” you admit. “It felt like I was being pushed to the side as other birthdays were planned well in advance while I had to practically beg for one friend to do something with me. It got to a point where it didn’t feel like anyone cared about me. And I had to carry that sadness and grief as I celebrated everyone else’s accomplishments”. Your voice breaks into a sob, and Jesse pulls you as close as the two of you can. Tucking your head into him, you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself but all the emotions of the past month finally catch up and crash down onto you.

Jesse ducks his head so his mouth is close to your ear, and his comforting voice drops so only you can hear him. “I am so incredibly proud of you, ad’ika. This year alone, you’ve been challenged in ways that not many people could overcome with the determination and grace that you have. Everyone in this room sees that, and they absolutely adore you. When they heard it was your birthday, everyone jumped at the chance to celebrate you and show you their love, alright? As long as you let us, we will support you however you need. Just give us the word, and we’ll be there for you. I’ll be there for you”.

Pulling away, Jesse brings both his hands up to wipe away the new wave of tears slipping down your face. His caring expression causes butterflies to tickle your stomach. “‘Thank you,” you choke out.

Jesse shakes his head with a smile, “Anything for you, ad’ika. I am afraid however, I may have kept you to myself a little longer than the rest of the party would have liked”. His eyes twinkle with a mischievous glint. 

Pulling away, Jesse offers his arm with a cheeky wink that causes you to laugh easier than you have in a long while. As the two of you join your friends and family, each person makes it a point to wish you a happier year to come. Surrounded by so many people who went out of their way to celebrate your birthday, you find a small flicker of hope that next year will hold more laughter and love. Especially when you catch Jesse’s eye, and his expression melts into one of admiration only meant for you.

[louis-ii-reyes-strand]

semicompleted saturday sunday

Rules: Share one scene or art that never made it into a/the finished piece and probably never will. (And if you want, share what it was supposed to be and why you left it out or never finished it.)

Thank you @heartstringsduet for the tag! Most of the stuff i've written ends up in the graveyard for one reason or another, which is why i've not posted anything yet. But I like the idea of some of it seeing the light of day.

So, this scene is the only thing i've ever written for this fic. The idea came to me very vividly and this scene in particular, but, as you will see, it's disjointed as hell and I couldn't find a way to make it work.

The premise is that TK and Carlos get into a fight years into their marriage and Carlos walks out to calm down. It's the middle of the night so he ends up sat on a bench in a small park. Then through the power of ✨magic✨ he is sent back in time to important moments in his and TK's relationship and realises how stupid he'd been.

---

Carlos blinked and he was at the honky-tonk, the first day that he and TK met. 

It had been years and there were countless other moments they had shared together, but he still remembered it like it was yesterday.

Michelle had been waiting for him outside when he arrived, feeling a little silly in his tight shirt, and a little apprehensive about being invited. But she hadn’t let him linger in those thoughts at all, had started talking to him before he was even next to her, and all but dragged him to the table she was sharing with Nancy and Tim. They greeted him politely, not quite friends but not distant acquaintances either, it wasn’t the first time Michelle had forced him to be sociable. 

Then Michelle had launched into her plan to haze Captain Strand. She liked him, Carlos could tell that much, but she was also Michelle and she was going to assert her dominance as Paramedic Captain to make sure the new captain was a good fit for their station. 

Carlos quickly made an excuse to get himself a beer while the other three were giggling about her plan. He didn’t want to get mixed up in their politics.

As he walked across the room to get to the bar, he noticed where the new look 126 had set up across a couple of tables.

He remembered feeling just as floored by TK’s everything as he had at the accident earlier in the night, if not more so without the rain to blur his vision. Everything had narrowed to where TK was laughing along with his new co-workers. 

Then he had spent so long by the bar, just watching him and how he interacted with the people around him that he finished his beer and Michelle came to find him. She followed his eyeline and then laughed. “You need to get laid.” 

Carlos had blushed and spluttered, but this time he didn’t.

It had been half he needed to get laid, and half so much more than that. He hadn’t known how meeting TK had shifted his entire world on its axis then, but some part of him knew that meeting TK was momentous. 

“Distract his Dad?” 

Michelle considered him for a moment but shrugged and went to drag Owen off to the dancefloor just as she had the first time this happened. 

Carlos remembered so clearly the nerves he had felt as he approached TK, not knowing if he was gay, not knowing if he would be into him even if he was. Now, his mind full of memories this body hadn’t yet had a chance to make, all he felt was love. 

“Hey,” He said as he came to stand by TK. He looked so much younger, so much more guarded too. 

TK glanced over to him, a smile forcing its way off his lips before it could even appear. He gave Carlos an obvious once over that set a fire in his gut just the way it had the first time, maybe even more so now that he knew what was waiting for him. “Hey” 

“We’re soulmates.”

TK looked so taken aback by how strong his words were, it made Carlos laugh. 

“We’re soulmates and it doesn’t matter that I’m saying it to you now because I'm pretty sure you’re a figment of my imagination sent to kick my ass. I’m going to tell you this now and when I wake up I’m going to drive home and tell you again.” He took a deep breath. “This moment right here changed my life, if you didn’t dance we me then drag me off to that bathroom so we could get each other off, I wouldn’t have reconnected with my family, I wouldn’t have friends that I care for like a second family, I wouldn’t be a detective, I wouldn’t have anything. I would’ve stayed trapped while I waited for my life to start, and I don’t tell you enough how much I love you. I think a part of me has always known that I love you since this moment. And I have loved you at every single moment since, even when you broke my heart and I thought it was going to end up alone forever. I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt that and I’m going to do better. I’m going to do so much better, baby.” 

The TK from the past was looking around for someone, probably his dad or anyone else he recognised, looking for a way out of this interaction. Carlos didn’t blame him, he’d just had a love confession from a guy that he’d met once. 

“I’m going, don’t worry.” He held his hands up with a smile and started backing away, unable to take his eyes off TK as he did so until he bumped into someone behind him and was forced to look where he was going. 

He ran outside the honky-tonky, looked up to the sky and shouted, “Okay! You win! I understand now, let me go home and tell my husband I love him.” 

He closed his eyes and waited.

i'm not gonna tag anyone because i have again missed the boat (i'm pulling seven sentence sunday together asap!) so if you see this: hi.

[taruchinator]

💖 General Audiences

💖 2.5k Words

💖 Soulmates AU + Gift for Ikitsumi!

Master Odin had told him about this— that once he found the one that was meant for him, the colors that were now nothing but a distant memory to him would come back full-force.

He stared in awe as the buildings he had grown used to seeing in a monochrome palette were being brought back to life, one by one painted over as if they were white canvases. It was breathtaking. Then there was the one to thank for it all.

The stranger— his soulmate— lay there unconscious in the courtyard with nothing but tethered clothes, yet Eraqus had never seen such a beautiful person in his whole life.

It's still December, which means it's still Christmas in my book 😎 Here goes another little fic written for a Secret Santa I had with some Discord friends~

I hope you like it, Iki! Sorry I ended up posting a day later, life happens hehe. I always wanted to try a Soulmate AU, and this was honestly exactly the push I needed to do that. It was lots of fun to do 🤗

When Eraqus first learned the history about soulmates, he didn't think he would get one.

Master Odin described them as beings that were meant to complete you, almost as if your heart had been split into two and you wouldn't be able to reach your full potential without them, be it as a person or a Keyblade wielder. Eraqus however, felt perfectly capable all by himself— getting stronger the more he trained and probably wiser as well, according to him at least.

There was also the fact that soulmates were incredibly rare, based on what his Master had told him.

Which was why it was so surprising to the young boy when he lost his ability to see colors at the age of ten— the telling sign that there was indeed someone out there meant for him.

As years went by, the boy couldn't help but wonder what that person would be like.

Would they be nice? Would they have things in common? What if they were boring? What if they didn't like him?

Only the strange string of fate held the answers, and all the ravenette could do was pray to the glorious Kingdom Hearts above that this person would be someone worth the wait.

“Eraqus!”

The voice of a young girl brought the teenager to a halt, Keyblade stuck in mid action as he turned to look at his friend running towards him in the training grounds. Her features expressed concern, and Eraqus didn't know what to make of that. “Vor? What's wrong?”

Trying to regain her lost breath, the short haired girl huffed for a moment, until she finally locked eyes with the other boy and exclaimed with exasperation. “Someone's passed out in the courtyard! He just came out of nowhere! I-I told Hermod and he said he'd look after him while I looked for Master Odin, but I can't find him anywhere, so-”

“Hey, hey! Easy there, it's okay.” Eraqus quickly unsummoned his weapon and knelt to the girl's level as he placed his hand on her shoulder. He smiled in an attempt to calm her down. “The Master's probably meditating somewhere, you know how he gets! I'm sure you, Hermod and I can handle this until he gets back.”

Vor's expression softened for a moment, until determination set in its place as she nodded. “Okay, but we better hurry! Come on!”

The oldest of the two wasn't given much more than that before the girl started running ahead towards the courtyard, having Eraqus yelling after her to slow down. Luckily, there wasn't much distance to be covered, so they were able to reach their destination relatively quickly.

Just as Vor described, Hermod was kneeling on the ground and cradling a head that Eraqus could only assume belonged to the stranger in his lap. The studious scholar turned his gaze upwards, and quickly had his expression change to one of confusion. “What are you doing here? I asked Vor to bring the Master!”

“Geez Hermod, good to see you too.” The ravenette rolled his eyes but soon joined his classmate on the ground to hold onto the stranger's legs. “The Master is who knows where, but if we work together, the two of us could bring him in-”

Eraqus' sentence was cut short as his eyes landed on the teen in Hermod's lap.

Master Odin had told him about this too— that once he found his soulmate, the colors that were now nothing but a distant memory to him would come back full-force. The young Keyblade wielder had to blink a few times as tears began forming in the corner of his eyes, the foreign light being given back to him in the form of hues.

For the first time in years, it felt like he could truly see again.

He stared in awe as the buildings he had grown used to seeing in a monochrome palette were being brought back to life, one by one painted over as if they were white canvases.

“Eraqus? Eraqus! Hey!” Hermod's voice brought the boy back to reality and he immediately had to do a double take as he turned to see.

He'd met all of his classmates after he'd lost the ability to distinguish color, so it wasn't surprising for him to stare long and hard at his friend, taking in as many details as he possibly could. Eyes, hair, clothes— all of it was almost as overwhelming as seeing his home brought back to its former glory.

And then there was the one to thank for it all.

The stranger— his soulmate— lay there unconscious and with tethered clothes, yet Eraqus had never seen such a beautiful person in his life.

“We… we gotta bring him inside…” The ravenette found his voice somehow after what felt like ages, and turned to Hermod once more as he gestured towards the legs he was holding onto. “We carry him at the same time.”

“Yeah… sounds good, but are you okay?” Hermod's blue eyes shimmered with concern, and Eraqus had to quickly form a smile to reassure him or else he'd grow suspicious. “Yeah, I'm fine! Just dust in my eyes. Let's do it!”

And just like that, the boys were able to lift the stranger and take him through the Academy's gates, where they passed some of their other classmates who offered their assistance as well.

All the while, Eraqus never took his eyes off the teen in his arms, as he realized that this would be a very interesting ice breaker for the both of them once the other awoke.

“His skin is so dark… What is he, an islander?”

Once they got the stranger settled into one of the spare guest rooms, Master Odin finally returned from his errands and was caught up with the situation at hand. After some examination, he'd determined that the boy didn't seem injured in any way, so the best option would be for them to let him rest. After that, they could ask him questions.

But Eraqus wasn't known to be patient.

It only took a few glances for the Master to notice something different in his pupil, and after the boy confirmed those suspicions, he was allowed to stay in the room with their guest so long as he looked after him.

And boy, was he looking.

Once his eyes finally adjusted to the world around him, Eraqus was quick to take in all the features he possibly could from the teen that lay in bed next to him. Placing a warm towel on the other's forehead, he leaned in closer.

Sun-kissed skin as far as the eye could see, along with a hint of freckles that seemed to wander everywhere from his face to his forearms. Snow white hair that seemed incredibly soft to the touch— the ravenette had to hold back multiple times from reaching over to feel it— which also showed in the stranger's fluttering eyelashes.

The clothes he'd arrived with remained untouched, still slightly torn and wrinkled in all places. White button-up vest, medium length black coat, baggy gray pants and boots.

“Not a fan of color I guess…” Eraqus furrowed his eyebrows, but came to the realization that he was probably colorblind just like he once was, hence the lack of shades in his wardrobe.

“I should probably stop staring before it gets creepy. I mean, you could wake up any minute now…” The ravenette straightened himself back in the chair he'd been in for the past hour, letting a sigh as he explained himself to the unconscious person next to him. Reaching for a book he'd left on the side, he did his best to concentrate on something more productive.

So what if his soulmate had finally shown up and quite literally brought color back to his life?

So what if he was passed out and mere inches away from him?

And so what if he happened to be incredibly good-looking because never in his entire life would Eraqus have imagined that someone like that would be the one destined for him?

“Ugh…”

The teen froze in place as he heard the grunt. Turning his head slightly to the right, he noticed the small movements from the other's arms as he began feeling around the bed, probably noticing how unfamiliar it all felt.

Eraqus immediately stood from his chair and went to look over the other teen at his bedside. Eyelids began to flutter as the stranger's eyes were revealed and slowly looked around the room until focusing on him— gray. How was Eraqus not surprised?

“Um, hey there! How are you feeling?” The Keyblade wielder tried his best to act calm and collected, but couldn't help feeling rather queasy under the albino's scrutinizing gaze.

“I… Ugh!” The stranger looked like he wanted to say something, but was immediately cut off as he closed his eyes shut with a hiss, almost as if he had been burned. He'd almost forgotten!

Eraqus quickly reached for a pack of tissues he'd brought with him earlier, as well as some elixirs Master Odin gave him earlier for relief. He slowly approached the teen in the bed. “Here. You might need these. Also, this is for your pain! Just give it a sip and you should be feeling better!”

Gray eyes opened only slightly as he squinted at the objects Eraqus was handing over. He hesitantly took the tissues, but eyed the bottle with suspicion as he glared at him through half-lidded eyelids. Well wasn't he a charmer?

“Guess it doesn't hurt that much, then…” The ravenette couldn't help rolling his eyes with a sigh, but understood where the other was coming from. “Don't worry, it's not poison or anything. See?” After uncapping the bottle, he took a small sip of his own, and proceeded to hand it over once more.

The albino still seemed hesitant, but after a few seconds, he reluctantly reached for the drink and took a quick sip, causing Eraqus to smile and chuckle softly.

It took a few minutes before either of them spoke again, basking in the surprisingly comfortable silence. Eventually however, the Keyblade wielder spoke softly as to not disturb his companion. “So, how are you feeling?”

“Better…” The teen replied with an equal softness to his voice. The tissues he'd used to wipe his eyes with were crumbled next to him, and all he could do was stare at them in contrast to the room they were in. “I… I can see.”

No further explanation needed to be given for Eraqus to understand that statement. As he shifted in his seat, he could feel the warmth creep into his cheeks while he rubbed at the back of his head. “Yeah… I figured. Colors, am I right? Didn't realize how much I missed them until now, hehe…”

Since he was given no response, the ravenette turned to look at the albino, who seemed to be lost in thought as he stared out the window with a hint of amazement in his eyes. He chuckled at the cute display before clearing his throat. “I-I'm Eraqus, by the way.”

“Xehanort.” This time the boy replied, but never taking his eyes off the window. “Where am I?”

“You're in one of our guest rooms here at the Academy. You were all passed out in the courtyard…” Eraqus couldn't help but be curious as to how this guy even got through the front gates, since it was rare for the Master to let his students wander through the city, let alone allow a stranger to waltz right in.

“Academy?” Xehanort pronounced the word as if it were foreign to him. That, accompanied by the evident confusion spread across his face, made the ravenette even more curious.

“Um, yes? Scala's Keyblade Academy? You practically died on our front door and my friend had to come and get help. You're lucky she was around!”

With what looked like realization, the albino finally pulled his gaze away from the sight outside and towards the other boy. The way those gray orbs pierced into his own gave Eraqus goosebumps he didn't find unpleasant in the slightest. “I remember a girl, yeah… She was telling me something as I fell through the portal, but I couldn't make out what it was…”

Eraqus had to do a double take because he couldn't have possibly heard that right, could he? “Are you… from another world?”

“Another world? Wait! This isn't the Destiny Islands?” Xehanort's eyes widened the size of saucers as he looked out the window once more, but this time he seemed to be scanning the area for familiar territory, which based on his reaction, seemed to be nonexistent. “I knew this place was weird, but-”

“I can't believe it, this is amazing! I've got to tell the Master! And the others too! Everyone is just going to freak out!” Eraqus couldn't help himself as he stared at the boy in front of him— living proof that other worlds were out there beyond what they knew. And even though he trusted Master Odin on his word, it was such a wonderful feeling to have tangible confirmation. “My soulmate is from another world!”

After those words left his lips, Xehanort turned towards Eraqus once more, even more visibly confused than before. “Soulmate?”

“Oh, yeah! You know, us seeing color means we're each other's soulmates? N-Not that soulmates have to be romantic, they can be platonic too, right?” The ravenette chuckled as he felt the warmth spreading across his cheeks again. Did this guy really not know what soulmates were?

After giving him a swift look up and down, the albino stared for a few seconds, until a chuckle erupted from his throat. “So my soulmate is a hyperactive, weirdly endearing, scraggly guy from another world? Now that's something you don't see every day.”

“Hey! You're scraggly too! And grumpy and cocky and actually really good-looking, that is just not fair!” Eraqus began listing negatives and ended with a positive. He just wished for someone to make him stop talking.

Xehanort smiled and turned his gaze downwards for a moment. “Well, you're kinda cute too, for what it's worth…”

Another blush spread across Eraqus' cheeks. “H-Huh? Well, you-”

“Oh! He's awake! Eraqus, why didn't you tell us?”

A female voice cut through the moment, causing the ravenette to turn around and find Urd walking into the room with more blankets and Vor following right on her tail. The girls called for the others to join as well, bringing a party of people into the tiny guest room.

Despite the numerous questions and inquiries headed his way, Xehanort seemed as collected as ever answering as best as he could. Eraqus couldn't help being impressed at the display.

In between laughter, the albino would occasionally lock eyes with him, and give him a smile that brought a strange feeling to his chest. Despite never thinking he'd get a soulmate, here Eraqus stood as fate seemed to finally decide it was time to tell him otherwise.

He had no idea what strange adventures they'd get into from here on out, but if there was one thing for certain, it was that it would be a wild ride.

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