#soulmate au series

[marsmarbles]

[motthe]

hiii !! just read like ,, a BUNCH of ur lumen au stuff ,,,, truly i am brainrotted now because i'm just thinking of so many different scenarios involving the lumens and i am just . EXCITED !!! its SUCHHHH a good concept im a big big sucker for soulmate stuff ,,,,

i was just wondering how you feel about jayvik x reader ,,,, TWO lumens ,,,,,,,, idk if you write for anything poly or not, but id love to hear your thoughts on it !!! either through headcanons or a ficlet, whichever you feel like :]

my first viktor x reader x jayce piece i’ve ever written… wait is this my first poly drabble?? it might be actually! i hope it’s fun to read ♥️

warnings: fem!reader, slight negative feelings of not being good enough, but overall fluff!!!

The scientific jargon that came with having not one but both of your fated being inventors was overwhelming. The words they tossed around became an entire other language since you’d all gotten closer. It left you feeling unbearably empty-headed, wondering why the universe would bond you to such intelligent men.

They were already changing an entire city with their ideas, and you would bet the world would soon bear their mark as well. In comparison, you were a meager artist making ends meet at festivals and street corners. Sure, maybe your work could be seen on a few shop signs or covering a wall or two in a cafe, but that was as famous as you’d ever be—a stranger to the passing eye.

“We need to widen the cylindrical chamber, maybe add an exhaust pipe to help with the cooldown.”

Jayce’s voice slipped through your head, smooth and confident and making no sense. You’d gotten rather good and tuning out the meat of the conversations, only recognizing the tones and emotions.

The heavy, warm accent of Viktor’s replied, swirling in the back of your mind as your pencil swiped over the heavy parchment against your thighs.

Recently, they’d begun inviting you to their lab to spend your free time in their company. There were two desks to choose from, though they were usually piled high with blueprints or notes. Jayce had moved a couch into the space for your comfort, placed in the corner and under a window, well away from any dangerous work they had their hands on, though they usually took anything too precarious into another portion of the building.

Their assistant, Sky, was in and out, always double-checking if you needed anything. She was a kind young woman, curly hair and glasses and a smile that made anyone feel at home. She brought you your own coffee and snacks, promising it was no trouble since she was already bringing them to Viktor and Jayce, anyway.

“You actually eat them,” she chuckled. “Jayce will if he notices they’re there, but it’s a long shot most days.”

You understood what she meant, seeing how focused the men became on their gadgets and studies. You’re sure if you got up and left they wouldn’t notice for a good, long while.

Today was one of those days, though there was peace in your private little corner as you sketched away. You squinted over the top of your sketchbook, skimming the outline of Viktor’s goggles pressed into his thick, winding hair and quickly adding the little licks of tresses to the paper before he was moving again.

You switched targets, taking in Jayce’s side profile and adding a bit more depth to his eyebrow and under eye.

Taking a moment to look between both drawings, you were hit with their beauty once more.

Jayce was deemed the academy’s “pretty boy,” with his strong jaw and perfect smile. He was a clean cut handsome, peak health and built with broad shoulders. He knew how to use those looks to his advantage.

On the other end was Viktor. He was a haunting beauty, sleek and angular. If he had the same charisma with speaking to the masses as Jayce did, that accent would gain him more than a fair share of admirers, but his confidence and skills lied elsewhere. He had a sharp eye and wore his emotions rather loudly on his face.

Where Jayce had faint lines from how much he smiled, Viktor had a feather soft crease between his brows from how often he furrowed them. Where the golden boy’s hands were always warm, his partner’s was cold. They made such gorgeous opposites, yet they held so many comparisons in mannerisms when it came to their shared hobbies and passions.

It was safe to say you adored them and their intricacies.

Taking a slow, deep breath you checked both shoulders before moving the tuft of black in your periphery into your hand. Gold shimmered between the dark mass that made up Jayce’s lumen, settling deeper into your palm as you raised your arms and stretched.

When you moved your drawing pad to the side, you spotted Viktor’s wedged between the apex of your thighs. Swallowing your gasp, you scooped it up, praying it hadn’t been smushed the entire time.

“When did you get there?” you whispered, rubbing your pointer finger into the tawny fuzz of his light. His lumen had always had a bit more give to it, leaving it to wedge itself under your leg or your shirt collar. Viktor’s preferred to be as close as possible to you, even if it left his lumen squished.

Jayce’s lumen was firmer, still soft but in a velveteen sort of sensation. It was bigger, taking up a good portion of your palm. Now your second month with it, you’d learned if it wasn’t on one of your shoulders, it was likely circling your head. His never went far either.

You wondered if you’d received Jayce’s lumen first, if it would have more of an attachment to you. As it stood, you’d had Viktor’s since you were young while he’d held Jayce’s and Jayce yours. The three of you being tied together had become quite the story as there went many outward poly fateds in Piltover, but luckily the gawking had passed after the first handful of weeks.

It was only a few days ago that Viktor confessed he’d been rather confused when he’d met Jayce and the lumens had flashed against one another.

“There were no similarities,” he’d explained, holding up one long, thin finger for your lumen to rest on as it hovered in front of him. The three of you were cozied up in your lackluster apartment—a studio more than a bedroom but it had a nice pullout couch and plenty of blankets to rest on in front of your heater. “Jayce was ecstatic, of course, but I was ruminating over your lumen when we first met.”

“I thought he hated me,” Jayce had murmured, breath warm against your ear as you laughed.

“I did not hate you,” huffed Viktor on your other side, rolling his eyes as he dropped his hand, your lumen resting within. “I wasn’t aware we had a third, yet—it was puzzling.”

“I had to explain it to him,” Jayce chuckled. “One of my old friends was in a poly.”

“And, then, he was even more ecstatic,” Viktor sighed but there was affection in it. “I thought you’d follow him home some nights.”

“And leave you all by yourself?” You laid your head on his shoulder, grinning as his eyes fled. It was still so early into the relationship, and he grew flustered with physical affection whereas Jayce sought it every chance. “I’d never.”

“It’s better now, we’re all together,” Jayce hummed, lowering to lay his head in your lap. You brushed your hand through his hair, smiling as his lumen lit up in Viktor’s lap.

“Yes,” Viktor had agreed, careful as he laid his head against yours. “It all feels…complete.”

Your chest warmed at the memory as you held both of their lumens in your hands, giving a fleeting kiss to each. Viktor’s snuggled happily into your palm while Jayce’s pulsed a happy gold before flying off, likely to check in with Viktor.

As your eyes lifted to follow its journey, you jumped when you found Jayce smiling from a few feet away by his desk. He seemed to be shuffling through some papers. Your lumen floated just nice his head, twinkling in the sunlight that shone through the windows behind you.

“Didn’t see you there,” you said, stretching your legs out before standing. Viktor’s lumen left your hand, keeping close to your neck.

“I hope you’re not bored.” He opened an arm up and you approached. You still grew giddy with any chance to be wrapped in his embrace, quick to accept the invitation.

“I like spending time here with you both,” you assured, giggling as he bent down to kiss your forehead. “Gives me plenty of practice.”

His eyes lit up, one of those dark eyebrows lifting. “Oh?”

“I know what you’re about to ask—”

“Please?” His arm wrapped tighter around your waist. “I wanna see.”

“They’re just rough sketches!” you laughed, pushing against his chest.

“C’mon, I bet they’re great! I’m sure Viktor wants to see them, too.”

You shook your head, a mess of giggles as he wrapped both arms around you and slowly edged his way towards the couch.

“Did someone call my name?” asked Viktor, turning from the machine he was working on. A torch was in his hand but luckily still off for the time being. Jayce’s lumen was sitting on his knee.

“Viktor tell her you want to see her art!” Jayce goaded.

“Tell him he needs to wait for a real piece,” you threw back, wrinkling your nose at him as he stuck his tongue out.

“You’ve been drawing us?” Viktor’s voice seeped with awe and innocent curiosity. “May we see?”

Jayce bounced his eyebrows at you, all too smug. “Told you.”

“Fine—fine!” you sighed, throwing your hands up and wiggling out of his hold as you went to grab your canvas notebook. “Don’t gripe when you see your half-finished faces.”

The tap of Viktor’s crutch intermingled with Jayce’s footsteps as they met you by the couch. As you handed over your work, Viktor was the one to accept it as Jace stood over him. Both their eyes went wide at the current page and your hand went straight to your arm as you shuffled in place.

“Those are just warmups, so…”

“Warmups?” Jayce breathed, looking up from the notebook. “These are amazing!”

“I have to agree, the detail is astounding,” Viktor hummed, looking to turn back a page. He caught your eyes before he did. “Is this all right? Tell us if we’re overstepping.”

“No, it’s okay! I’m used to people watching me draw on the street, it’s just… I don’t know.” You shrugged, bringing a hand up as Viktor’s lumen rubbed against your neck. Jayce’s was just settling on your shoulder again. “I care about what you guys think. It’s not anything big like you do, but…”

“Big?” Jayce echoed, both of their sights set on you.

“Well, it’s not as important as what you both do is what I mean.”

“Of course it’s important,” Viktor argued, expression stern.

“But it’s art!” you laughed, waving off the sudden seriousness growing from them. “It’s helping a bunch of people like your creations do. That’s much more important.”

“Art is just as, if not more, important,” he continued, passing the notebook to Jayce. “We are helping people in different ways, but do not do yourself the disservice and think what you create is anything less than what we do.”

“He’s right,” Jayce agreed, holding up your work. “This? This speaks to people. Your work can bring life to a room and lets people save a special moment in time.”

“Okay, don’t butter me up so much or I’ll melt!” you squeaked, too embarrassed to look at them as they chuckled and continued flipping through your sketches. It wasn’t long before the three of you were on the couch, both of them pointing out their favorites.

“Is my hair truly that messy?” Viktor grumbled, raising a hand to it. “Perhaps I should cut it.”

“No, I like it,” you said, grabbing his wrist. “You twirl it when you’re thinking! It’s so sweet.”

He blinked at you. “I do?”

Jayce whistled and you turned and gasped, completely forgetting the drawing you’d done of him in the forge. It was more from memory so your imagination had left it a bit more detailed than the rest.

“Okay, that’s enough!”

You swiped for the book, shutting it as Jayce laughed. Viktor rolled his eyes, smirking as he nudged your shoulder.

“Should I be worried of any scandalous pieces of me in there?”

You pouted, holding the notebook tighter to your chest.

“Oh?” Jayce breathed. “She didn’t say no!”

“You two are the worst!” you groaned, unable to help yourself from smiling as they both laughed in tandem.

[sunsburns]

kiss of life (ii.)

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!daughter reader

kiss of life masterlist

summary: i actually suck at writing summaries but basically this is part two of part one of that soulmate au fic i posted a week ago lol

—or: luke castellan is being haunted by kronos and... well, you.

word count: 6.42k

warnings: sorry for any spelling errors, i haven’t checked yet, suppperrr angsty, luke castellan pov as he's slowly being corrupted by kronos, long reading time, descriptive injuries, blood, pre-tlt, luke is stubborn and a dick, loser!luke, annabeth smacking some sense to luke, grover being an icon, reader is lowkey unreliable tbh... cliff hanger (again... lmfao sorry)

a/n: part two!!! thank you guys for all the love on the first part! i am so grateful for everything and i love reading all the comments and reblogs. i hope this one doesn't end up flopping lmfaooo. i honestly wanted this to be a short angsty fic but i got carried away and now i'm planning a whole multi-part fic for this, phew. anyways enjoyyy <;33

At eighteen, Luke was cursed with nightmares. 

They clawed at the edges of his mind, threatening to unravel the fragile front of peace that he had fought so hard to maintain. Each night, he would awaken drenched in a cold sweat, the echoes of his tortured dreams lingering in the corners of his mind like a haunting melody.

The Hermes cabin, once a sanctuary from the outside world, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in around him with each passing moment. The moon, a silent witness to his torment, cast its ethereal glow through the window, illuminating the slumbering forms of campers. Some were children of Hermes, like himself, bound by the tenuous ties of blood and kinship. Others, however, were unclaimed, their parentage shrouded in mystery and uncertainty.

And as Luke lay awake in the stillness of the night, a sense of loneliness washed over him like a tidal wave, drowning him in a sea of doubt. In the depths of his troubled sleep, he could feel the tendrils of darkness closing in around him, threatening to consume him whole. And try as he might to deny it, he knew that his nightmares held a deeper significance, a harbinger of events yet to unfold in the shadowy pits of fate.

His nightmares were callings. A taunting voice would echo through the corridors of his mind, its insidious whispers weaving a thought of deceit and manipulation. It masqueraded as a voice of reason, a beacon beckoning him towards a destiny that promised demigods everything.

At first, Luke dismissed it as nothing more than the ramblings of a tortured soul, the byproduct of his own restlessness. But as the whispers grew louder and more insistent, he could no longer ignore the chilling realization that they were something far more sinister—a call to arms, a summons to embrace his role as a harbinger of the new world.

The nights he wasn't shaking from night terrors, he was tossing and turning at the thought of you. And he didn’t know what was worse. He couldn't escape you. The haunting image of you lingered in his mind even during sleep — your lips, your eyes, your skin, your voice, and that shared scar and your demise.

But at least, you'd given up on him by then. Your persistent efforts to reach out to Luke gradually dwindled into nothingness. Though you were still everywhere, a shadow that seemed to torment his every move, you no longer gave him even a fraction of your attention.

Gone were the days of you seeking him out, your footsteps no longer echoing in the halls of Camp Half-Blood in search of him. You refrained from asking for Chris's help, no longer burdening him with questions on Luke's whereabouts. The notes you once left behind were now relics of a time long past, their words fading with each passing day.

And as the full moon rose once more over the waters of the lake, you no longer waited by its shores.

Luke turned in bed, his mind restless as he tried to shake the image of you. He pulled the covers tighter around himself, seeking comfort in the warmth they provided, but the chill of unease still lingered in the air.

His gaze drifted across the row of beds, each a testament to the diverse personalities that inhabited the Hermes cabin. The floor was strewn with a chaotic array of sleeping bags, toys, and discarded clothing, while a collection of rocks adorned one corner near the closets, and drawings adorned the walls.

Despite the usual chaos that reigned during the day, the cabin now lay quiet and still. The children of Hermes, along with the unclaimed children and the ones of minor gods, had finally settled into the embrace of sleep. 

But amidst the calm, a sense of unease gnawed at Luke's consciousness. He couldn't shake the feeling that had settled over him after he noticed the empty bed and the slightly ajar door. 

Luke pushed back the covers and rose from his bed. His footsteps echoed softly as he made his way toward the empty bottom bunk, hoping not to wake anyone. The sight of an old penguin stuffed animal discarded at the foot of the bed made him edgy. His eyes trailed to the traces of blood splattered on the hardwood floor, stark against the dim light filtering through the cabin windows.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Luke picked up the toy, its soft white and black material now stained with crimson. Clutching it tightly in his hand, he made his way out of the cabin, the urgency of his steps echoing in the stillness of the night.

He knew all too well who the missing camper was – five-year-old Penelope, one of the newest arrivals to Camp Half-Blood and possibly one of the youngest campers. Found wandering alone in the woods near the camp hill just a week ago, she had been brought to safety by a group of fellow demigods on a quest. Luke couldn't shake the resemblance she bore to a younger Annabeth, with her wide eyes and insatiable thirst for knowledge. He wouldn't be surprised if Athena claimed her as her own one day–that is if he ever found her.

Luke's worry for Penelope weighed heavily on his mind, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest as he combed through every inch of camp. The traces of blood he discovered fueled his unease, each droplet a stark reminder of the dangers lurking just beyond the safety of the camp's borders.

In his search, Luke traversed familiar paths and hidden corners, his footsteps echoing in the quiet stillness of the night. He scoured the armour, the climbing wall, and the camp store.

Luke had known all about campers disappearing, whether it be on a quest or to escape and try to live a normal life with humans that never really lasted long enough as monsters would dwell within the shadows outside of camp. 

It was in the dim glow of the kitchen lights that Luke finally caught a glimpse of Penelope, perched on the counter in her pyjamas, her hair adorned with two loose pigtails. A sense of relief washed over him at the sight of her safe and sound, yet it was short-lived as he noticed she wasn't alone.

His hand hovered over the door, hesitating as he listened to the soft murmur of conversation from within. With a steady breath, Luke pushed the door open ever so slightly, peering through the crack to catch a glimpse of Penelope. And you.

You, who looked older than when you first met in the infirmary. There was an air of maturity about you, a gracefulness that hadn't been there before. Your features seemed more refined, your presence commanding attention in a way that spoke of inner strength and resilience. Luke couldn't help but notice how your beauty had blossomed, surpassing the standards of mere mortal allure. It was a beauty that seemed to defy classification, uniquely yours yet undeniably captivating.

Despite this, Luke sensed a shift in your demeanour—a resignation, perhaps, to the reality of his ignorance. You had lost any hope you once harboured for him. His guarded nature would forever keep you at arm's length. And while part of him knew that this was for the best, a small, almost imperceptible part of him couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret.

For in the crossroads of his heart, amidst the shadows that threatened to consume him, there lingered a faint glimmer of longing. The thought of being intertwined with someone who could offer solace in his darkest moments, who could bring light to the depths of his despair, held an undeniable appeal. And as much as he tried to deny it, the chance of you approaching him once more tugged at the fringes of his resolve, tempting him to let down his guard and allow you closer than he ever dared to imagine.

"So, you wanna tell me what you're doing up this late?" You approached Penelope with a gentle smile, a cookie in your hand as a peace offering. 

Your words hung in the air, gentle and coaxing, as you tried to draw Penelope out of her shell. Luke watched from the shadows, his gaze flickering between you and the young camper, a sense of admiration stirring at how you spoke to Penelope.

Penelope hesitated, her gaze shifting between the cookie in her hand and you. 

"You don't know?" You persisted, your voice a soft murmur that carried a hint of playfulness. You settled beside Penelope on the counter, your posture was relaxed as you leaned in closer to her. "Is it... a secret?" you whispered.

Luke noted the subtle change in your demeanour, the way you seemed to adapt effortlessly to Penelope's shy nature. It was a side of you he hadn't seen before, one that resonated deeply with him.

As Penelope nodded in response to your question, you continued, your tone gentle and reassuring. "Let me tell you a secret," you offered, holding up your pinky finger as a symbol of trust. "I am the best secret keeper in this camp. I pinky promise."

After a moment's hesitation, Penelope tentatively reached out, her tiny finger linking with yours in a hesitant pinky promise. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Penelope murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I got hurt."

"What?" You gasped in genuine concern, your eyes widening as you shifted your attention to the young camper. "Can I see?"

Penelope nodded silently, her arm outstretched towards you. Luke observed from his vantage point, his heart twisting with worry as he noted the faint hint of red near Penelope's elbow.

You took Penelope's arm into your hands gently, your touch tender and reassuring as you rolled up the sleeves of her pale pink pyjamas. Luke couldn't help but notice the familiarity of those pyjamas, a subtle reminder of Annabeth's kindness and resourcefulness in making Penelope feel at home.

"Oh, wow, that looks like it hurts," You remarked softly, your brows furrowing in sympathy as you retrieved a first aid kit from the nearby cabinets. "You're handling it very well," you praised Penelope, your tone gentle and encouraging. "So brave of you."

Penelope watched you attentively as you began to clean her wound, her small frame tense with discomfort. "I don't feel brave," she admitted quietly.

"No?" You glanced up at her, "why not?"

"I miss my mommy."

Her words were tinged with a sense of longing that struck a chord with both you and Luke.

Luke chewed on the inside of his cheek, his thoughts drifting to his own longing for his mother. Penelope's admission resonated with him deeply, reminding him of the ache that never truly faded, no matter how many years passed, no matter how deep he tried to bury it. 

It was a sentiment shared by every demigod at camp, a silent ache that echoed through the cabins and training grounds. Yet, it was a pain rarely spoken aloud as if verbalizing it would make it all too real, too unbearable.

The yearning for a parent, for someone to fill the void left by their absence, weighed heavily on each camper's shoulders. It was a burden they carried silently, masking their vulnerability with bravado and determination. But for Penelope, the longing was raw in its innocence.

At just five years old, she was too young to fully comprehend the extent of her emotions. She couldn't grasp the complexities of her situation, the world of gods and monsters that surrounded her. All she knew was the absence of a mother's embrace, the absence of a comforting presence to soothe her fears and wipe away her tears.

It was a pain she didn't deserve, a burden too heavy for such a young soul to bear. The gods, in their arrogance and indifference, seemed oblivious to the lives they had shattered, and the pain they had inflicted upon their own children.

"Yeah?" You responded gently, "How much do you miss her?"

"This much," Penelope replied, her small hands spreading wide.

"Wow! That's a lot," you remarked, a sombre note underlying your tone as you processed Penelope's words. After a beat of silence, you shook off the heaviness of the moment and mustered a smile for her. "There we go. All cleaned up," you announced cheerfully, pressing a bandaid onto her elbow.

Penelope's smile widened in response, a glimmer of gratitude shining in her eyes as she kicked her feet. In a quiet voice barely above a whisper, she murmured her thanks to you.

"So, you wanna tell me how you got hurt?"

"I don't know." This had been the most Luke had ever seen Penelope talk, and while her voice was still timid, the words slipping out hesitantly, she seemed to confide in you. "I woke up because my arm hurt."

"The cut was just there?" You asked, and when she nodded, you hummed sympathetically. "...I get those too, you know."

Penelope's eyes widened, "You do?"

"Yes," you affirmed with a soft chuckle. "A lot of people do. You get them from your soulmate. Did your mom ever tell you about soulmates?"

"Sometimes."

"Well, a long time ago, humans used to have four arms, four legs, and two faces," You explained.

"What?"

"I know, right? Super freaky. So freaky that Zeus decided to split them in half. So, now we have two arms, two legs, and one face."

"What happened to the other half?"

"That's our soulmate. Our other half. And Aphrodite gave us a gift to help us find our soulmate." The smile that had adorned your face slowly waned, "Every time you get hurt, your soulmate gets hurt too."

"Is that why you have a cut on your face?"

The question lingered, hanging in the air like a whispered secret. Luke held his breath, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for your response. But instead of answering, you reached out to Penelope, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips as you guided her off the counter.

"Let's get you back to your cabin."

Your words were gentle, a soft reassurance for Penelope's sake, but Luke could sense the undercurrent of sadness that ran beneath them. As you led Penelope away, Luke's heart ached in a way that felt so familiar yet foreign at the same time. It burned the same way it did when he returned from the quest when he hated the world and everyone in it, but this time, the only person he could find himself hating was himself.

He retreated from the door, clutching the stuffed animal in his hands. He felt a fleeting reminder of the times he would hide from the monsters with Thalia.

Luke's mind swirled with discordant emotions, each thought a whirlwind of uncertainty. He knew he didn't deserve your answer, didn't deserve the solace of your words. He had made it clear too many times to count that he never wanted a soulmate, never wanted you.

But despite his protests, despite the walls he had built around his heart, Luke couldn't deny the tug that pulled him to you, the hunger in his soul that refused to be ignored. It was a longing he couldn't shake, a yearning that whispered of a connection he dared not embrace. Knowing that keeping you away was the only way to protect you from the darkness that lurked within him was what kept him sane.

"Luke?"

The sound of his name tore Luke out of his thoughts like a violent gust of wind. He spun around, finding you standing on the porch to the kitchens, Penelope at your side. She held your hand, a small beacon of warmth and light in the dimness of the night. 

It seemed too perfect, too surreal, and Luke couldn't help but feel a pang of disbelief. Were you trying to kill him? It had been too long since the last time he spoke to you, let alone stood so close to you, and here you were, the epitome of what a demigod should be, even if you were still in the dreaded bright orange camp shirt.

"Hey," he managed to say.

You continued to descend the stairs, each step cautious and deliberate. "What- uh, what are you doing up?"

"I was actually looking for Penelope." Luke motioned to the girl hiding behind your legs. When he caught her eye, Penelope grinned and let go of your hand, darting over to Luke and jumping into his arms. He lifted her easily, a small smile tugging at his lips as he handed her the stuffed toy she had left behind. 

"Oh." You hummed, "I didn't know you're a Hermes kid?"

"I'm unclaimed," Penelope chimed.

"For now," Luke's voice was gentle as he held Penelope in his arms. "And what were you doing up?"

"I was looking for a bandaid. I got lost." Penelope's words were punctuated by a soft yawn, and she nestled her head against Luke's shoulder, her exhaustion evident in every movement.

You hesitated, your gaze shifting to meet Luke's. "I found her by the canoes... near the dock."

The silence that settled between you felt heavy, suffocating almost as if it threatened to engulf you both. Luke found himself wandering back to the memories of you waiting for him at the dock during the summer nights and the regret that weighed heavily on his heart for never approaching you. He remembered the countless times he stood among the trees, watching you from afar, paralyzed by his own insecurities and fears.

Were you waiting for him there tonight? 

No, you couldn't have.

Guilt gnawed at him, threatening to consume him whole. "Listen, I-"

"I'm gonna go." You cut him off abruptly, your voice carrying a hint of tension. "Counsellor duties and all. I've got cabin checks in the morning so... you know, I gotta print papers... and stuff..."

Luke frowned at your lame excuse. "It's midnight."

"It's never too early to start now." You huffed defensively. "Bye, Penelope."

"Bye," Penelope mumbled sleepily, her hand lazily waving in your direction as you walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the night and the trail leading to the Aphrodite cabin.

As they made their way back to the Hermes cabin, Luke held onto Penelope tightly, feeling the weight of her small body in his arms. The night air was cool against his skin, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of shame for the unease he noticed in you earlier. He wanted to say something, to bridge the gap that seemed to have formed between you, but the words remained trapped in his throat.

Once they returned to the warmth of their cabin, Luke moved with a careful grace, mindful not to disturb the sleeping campers around them. He gently placed Penelope back on her bed and tucked her in. But as he began to step away, her small hand shot out, wrapping around two of his fingers. Luke froze, eyes wide with surprise.

"Luke?" Penelope's voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the silence of the cabin like a knife.

"Yeah?" Luke's voice was equally quiet.

"I think your soulmate is really cool." 

Penelope's words hung in the air, a simple statement that carried more weight than he could have ever anticipated.

Seven hours later, the memory of your face lingered in Luke's mind like an unshakeable ghost. Tossing back and forth in his bed, he tried to rid himself of the image, but it clung to him like a shadow. Each time he closed his eyes, your face flashed before him, haunting his thoughts. Even when he turned away, the spectre of Kronos lurked in the depths of his subconscious, a reminder of the choice that still loomed over him.

As morning broke over Camp Half-Blood, Luke found himself seated at the breakfast table, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of his fellow campers. Annabeth's presence brought a brief distraction.

She slid into the seat in front of him during breakfast and gave him a strange look, slightly out of breath from the morning rush, a half-eaten apple in hand.

"Hey," she greeted him, her voice carrying a note of concern. Pausing to tie back her braids, she studied him intently. "Who you looking for?"

Luke's response came too quickly, "No one," he replied, his voice strained. Thankfully, Chris had left earlier because he was in charge of the climbing wall in the morning, he wasn't there to tell Annabeth that Luke had been looking for you. His eyes scanned the sea of faces in the dining hall, a futile attempt to catch sight of you amidst the crowd. He felt pathetic. "What's up with you?"

Annabeth raised her brows. "Archery? Together? Remember? Or did you forget?"

"No. I didn't forget."

She only stared at him, skeptical.

"What?" he asked, "why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Oh, I get it," Annabeth's smirk hinted at a newfound understanding, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the dining hall, as she shook her head and rested her chin on her hand. "How long are you planning to keep this up for?"

Luke frowned, confused.

"This entire act you have with... you know," She didn't need to say your name for him to catch on. "It's getting out of hand, no?"

"I..." Caught off guard by her directness, Luke hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Choosing to play dumb, he feigned innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right." Annabeth's knowing look pierced through his facade. She was always too perceptive for her own good. Fixing him with a narrowed gaze, she gave him a playful kick under the table, the impact enough to draw a startled reaction from Luke. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she took another bite of her apple before teasing him further. "Well, Grover said you're killing yourself."

"What?" He blinked at her, taken aback, "I'm not killing myself. Grover's just being dramatic."

"I don't think so." She said, slowly, carefully forming her words. "I mean, if I had a soulmate..."

Luke's defences bristled at the mention of soulmates, a topic he preferred to avoid. "Is this all you wanted to talk about?" 

"I'm allowed to worry, "Annabeth reminded him, her words tinged with a gentle insistence. "Family, remember?"

The word 'family' carried weight, a reminder of their shared history and the bond they had forged over the years. It was a phrase Annabeth often employed to coax Luke out of his shell, to encourage him to confide in her. When they were younger, 'family' meant everything to Luke, thanks in no small part to Annabeth's influence.

"You don't need to worry," Luke assured her, though uncertainty gnawed at the edges of his resolve. "I know what I'm doing." But did he? Luke longed for the simplicity of a time before he met you when the idea of having a soulmate seemed like a distant fantasy. Now, every decision he made, every scar he bore, carried weight, knowing it could impact you in ways he couldn't comprehend.

"The least you can do is get to know her before she leaves."

Her words struck a chord within him, prompting Luke to cast a discreet glance around the dining hall, searching for you amidst the bustling crowd again.

"She's leaving?"

"Not forever, "Annabeth clarified with a chuckle, "Just on a quest. Search and rescue. Nothing fancy."

"...How do you know this?" he said after a moment.

"Chiron told me," Annabeth shrugged nonchalantly. "He also told me to tell you that the ceremony is tonight. I hope that doesn't kill you."

It did kill him a bit. At least, it felt like it did. Luke Castellan moved through camp with a sense of urgency, his strides purposeful yet tinged with a hint of apprehension. His fingers, calloused from years of wielding weapons, throbbed with a dull ache with the burn from the bow and arrow. 

Shoulders tense, skin prickling under the relentless glare of the sun, he scanned the bustling campgrounds.

The weight of his bow rested heavily on his shoulder, the familiar weight offering a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos. With practiced precision, he counted the arrows in his quiver, his movements fluid and sure. 

Then, he heard it—the sound that drew him like a siren's call. Your voice, lilting and laughter-filled, cut through the clamour of the camp, pulling him toward you like a magnet. There you stood, leaning against the doorway of the Hephaestus cabin, a clipboard clutched to your chest as you exchanged banter with Atticus, the skilled swordsmith whose craftsmanship had forged Luke's sword.

There was something different about you today, something delicate, more approachable than he had ever seen before. Last night, with Penelope, you had worn a similar expression—gentle, caring—but it was a side of you that Luke had never been privileged to witness. With him, you had always been guarded, reserved, as though afraid that he would cut or maim you.

As you scribbled something onto your clipboard, Luke found himself intrigued by the way your smile softened. It was a stark contrast to the confident facade you often wore, and for a moment, Luke felt a pang of guilt for pushing you away so soon.

Unbeknownst to you, you were drawing closer to Luke with each step, your path inexorably leading you toward him. Part of him craved to reach out, while another part hesitated, unsure of how to talk to you after all this time.

"Hey," Luke finally managed to utter as you drew near, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You paused, a hint of surprise flickering across your features as you registered his presence. "Hi?" Your response was tentative, laced with a hint of confusion. After a moment's hesitation, you glanced down at your clipboard, "I'm not changing my rank on your cabin. I know three is low, but I was being generous."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Luke's lips. He was all too familiar with the chaotic nature of Cabin Eleven, where overcrowding was the norm and taking turns on the sleeping bags was treated as a game. "No, no. I just..." He trailed off, suddenly realizing he hadn't thought through the purpose of seeking you out. "I think we need to talk."

The confusion in your expression mirrored his own, and for a moment, there was a palpable sense of uncertainty hanging between you. "Talk?" you echoed.

Luke nodded, his gaze meeting yours earnestly. "Yes."

"You want to talk...? To me?" 

"I hope it's not that bizzare."

He tried to smile for you, but it felt wrong. Luke couldn't shake the weight of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew all too well that he hadn't been the embodiment of an ideal soulmate. In his mind, there lingered a pervasive belief that you harboured nothing but hatred towards him, something that you made obvious with every interaction between you two.

He wondered if this was the way you felt during the days he avoided you. 

Luke had noticed the shift. There was a calculated recklessness to your actions, a deliberate disregard for your own well-being that bordered on self-destructive. You stubbed your toe on roots and table legs, tugged too hard at your hair, and scraped your knees. You started to pull your punches while sparring with Clarisse, just enough to ensure that he felt the sting of every blow. You never blocked a hit in the face, a twisted satisfaction in the knowledge that your pain mirrored his own. Together, you would limp into the infirmary, bloodied and bruised where you'd be grinning far too wide, barely offering an ounce of guilt when Luke held ice to his face.

You lowered the clipboard from your chest, letting it rest against your side as you faced Luke. The warm rays of the sun filtered through the dense foliage above, casting dappled shadows that danced across your features and forced you to squint against the brightness. The noise of children's laughter and the sound of feet pounding against the earth filled the air.

Your voice cut through the noise, "You've made it pretty clear that you want nothing to do with me, Luke," you began, your words carrying the weight of unspoken hurt. "You can't blame me for being surprised."

As you began to walk toward the next cabin, Luke fell into step beside you, "Can you just give me a chance—" 

"I think you're too late for that."

"I know, I just—" Luke's words faltered, his thoughts tumbling over one another in a desperate attempt to articulate his feelings.

"I have nothing to say to you," you declared abruptly, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him. Luke skidded to a stop just in time, his gaze meeting yours as you regarded him with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Seriously. I understand, okay? Did I come on too strong? Maybe. Yeah, I'll admit that" you acknowledged, your expression softening slightly. "Maybe coming to you hours after your shit quest was stupid, but I gave you space when you asked—"

"I just wanted to wish you luck on your quest," Luke interrupted, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of remorse.

With a quiet "Oh," you stepped back, your eyes momentarily averting his gaze. Were you embarrassed? Were you disappointed? Did you want to fight? 

"Sorry," you mumbled, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Thanks. I'm, uh, I'm seeing the Oracle after this. So... not technically a quest yet."

"It's your first one, right?" Luke's voice softened, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

"If you're worried about getting another scar, don't worry, I doubt it's anything dangerous," you reassured him, though your words held a hint of hesitation. There was a fleeting moment where your gaze lingered on him as if expecting a sudden change in his demeanour, but Luke remained still, his expression unreadable. "I just need to find Eros and go from there."

"Eros?" Luke's pace slowed, curiosity dancing in his eyes as he raised his brows in interest. Yet beneath the surface, a seed of annoyance sprouted, tendrils of jealousy winding their way through his thoughts. Your quest sounded far more intriguing than his own, and a bitter brew of envy churned in the depths of his stomach. Despite his inner turmoil, he attempted to play it off with a forced chuckle. "Has Cupid gone missing?"

"Apparently," you muttered bitterly under your breath, the resentment palpable in your tone. Luke sensed the edge to your words, though he pretended not to notice.

You sighed, "Is this conversation going anywhere? I really need to finish these cabin checks. I'm busy enough as it is."

Your words held an unspoken plea for him to leave, and though Luke understood, a pang of disappointment nagged at him. He couldn't entirely blame you; after all, he'd been an ass for months.

Both of you hesitated just outside the door to cabin eight, and Luke could feel your eyes on him. When you began to step away, his hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. You froze, eyes wide with surprise.

“I also wanted to thank you,” He said, words rushing off his tongue.

“For what?” you asked.

“For last night.” He wasn't sure why he brought it up, why he felt like he needed you to know. "With Penelope."

"It was nothing," you said, voice barely audible. "We gotta look out for each other, right?"

Then, you left, you hurried up the short staircase to the cabin door, barely sparing him a glance before knocking. From his place, Luke could hear someone welcoming you into Artemis's cabin. He watched you until the door was shut behind you, vanishing you from his sight.

As the ceremony approached, the hues of twilight painted Camp Half-Blood in a golden glow, a serene yet foreboding atmosphere enveloping the surroundings. Luke's unease mounted with the setting sun, casting stretched-out shadows that seemed to carry something unnoticed. He couldn't shake the image of the figure from his nightmares, its monstrous visage haunting his thoughts with each passing moment. Yet, amidst the creeping darkness, there was an allure to the unknown, a temptation that beckoned him; its words, its promise of seeing the truth.

His gaze remained fixed on the white marble archway, half-expecting the nightmare to materialize at any moment, its twisted form emerging from the shadows with outstretched fingers. However, it was you who appeared, ascending the steps with graceful determination. Your presence seemed to dispel the shadows, bathing the surroundings in a radiant glow that eclipsed the fears that had once gripped Luke's heart. You were a blinding vice.

"Didn't think I'd see you here."

A sudden jab to his side sent him recoiling, a sharp pain shooting through his ribs. Luke winced, his gaze flickering to you as you flinched, subtly reaching for your own side. Quickly diverting his attention, he focused on the girl who had spoken.

Clarisse arched a brow at Luke, a smirk dancing on her lips. "Jumpy."

"Give him a break," Chris interjected, joining Luke's side and draping an arm over his shoulder. "Luke had a rough night, he lost a kid."

"Is that so?" Clarisse's grin widened. "And Chiron doesn't know? I'm assuming he doesn't otherwise, he wouldn't have picked you for this."

Luke scoffed and crossed his arms, "I'm the best swordsman at camp."

Clarisse's sarcasm was palpable. "Oh, I don't doubt it. The most humble, too," she retorted, unfazed by his glare. "But let's face it, a search and rescue isn't exaclty your thing anymore. You're more of an action kind of guy. You live off the glory of victory. Chiron knows that."

She was right, Chiron did know that. Which was why he rarely requested Luke to stand in unless there was a catch. Then, the flames in the torches flickered to life, and silence enveloped the candidates. Each demigod chosen by Chiron swiftly took their place, standing tall and resolute by a marble pillar, eager to showcase themselves as the prime choice for the quest. Anything for Kleos. Anything for glory.

Chiron nodded, his gesture sharp and decisive, as he placed a firm hand on your shoulder before addressing the assembly. 

"The Oracle has confirmed that this quest is a search and rescue," he stated, casting a brief, confident glance in your direction. "One where you will use all your best efforts to bring Eros back to the safety of Mount Olympus and restore the lost balance. I'm sure you know where to find him." His gaze then shifted to the rest of the candidates. "Here, I have selected some of our most compelling candidates from which you will choose one to join you on your quest, ensuring your success. Annabeth Chase, Atticus Brang, Chris Rodrigues, Clarisse La-"

As Chiron listed the candidates, you carefully evaluated your options, your eyes calculating. In the dim torchlight, Luke could just discern the thin line etched across your face, stretching from the end of your brow to your-

"I choose Luke."

The ensuing silence felt like something they could all drown in, leaving everyone stunned. Even Annabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise, though there was a glint of amusement in her eyes as she spotted Luke's bewilderment. Surely, he must have misheard. There couldn't possibly be any way you had chosen him, could there?

Chiron turned to you, his tone measured. "Are you sure?"

You never shifted your gaze from Luke, who refused to meet your eyes as he stared fixedly at the pillar across from him. Yet, the clenching of his jaw, whether from anger or annoyance or something else, was enough to elicit a satisfied smile from you.

"I'm sure," you affirmed.

taglist: @pleasingregulus , @weasleylovers , @telliette , @jarofshells , @jess-fae , @s0urw00lf , @srvbryn , @justanotherkpopstanlol , @coryoskywalker , @simplyjake , @girlyp-0-p , @aquangxl , @lovebug0 , @number-onekidqueen , @mxtokko , @patitotodd , @gloryekaterina , @simpforsunwoo , @ladyslytherin7 , @criesinlies , @mashiromochi , @quackitysdrugdealer , @jadahxx , @maraschinocherry3 , @trovailleangel , @daliscrim , @wicca-void , @girljakeperalta , @kurtcobaingirlie , @yourlocaldelusional , @elisa20beth , @lifeonawhim (lmk if you wanna be added <3 pls make sure ur tags on on! <3)

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© sunsburns.tumblr 2024. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥

She was content and in love, she thought she married the one she would spend the rest of her life with. Fate seemed to have another plan for her. One that involved her to finally learn the truth, causing two relationships to be tragically ruined and hidden memories to suddenly come to light. She finally gets on the path she was meant to be on in the beginning.

18+ only please, do not copy, repost or translate our works. You are responsible for your own media consumption. headers are made by me.

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

!warning! This series will include heartbreak, divorce, detailed cheating, bad thoughts towards self, betrayal, back-stabbing, horrible relationships, slight gaslighting and manipulation, smut (from cheating and maybe when she finds happiness).

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬:

part 1 - 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 2 - 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 3 - 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 4 - 𝐢 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞...

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 5 - 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 6 - 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 7 - 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

[sevs-corner]

Another one of my wild dreams coming to me, I swear the voices are having too much fun when I’m unconscious, where its the usual Soulmate-Reincarnation trope but the Tf 141 guys always get to meet each other but…you.

Every. Single. Time.

In each new life, they’d always happen to meet, but nearing the end of theirs— a longing always seem to linger in their hearts. Pieces of their memory always missing with a piece of their soul not being fulfilled.

At first, they don’t notice it— it was already rare enough to have 4 soulmates all tied together. So, to think of another partner being somewhere out there? Yeah, that was outrageous.

They were already thankful enough that they had each other, how could they still feel so greedy and longing?

We’re they not enough for each other?

What was lacking? What were they lacking?

When then they hear murmurs of soulmates being together, they all said they’ll feel something snap into place.

They think its the soulmate bond being locked into place, their soul finally complete and fates intertwined.

Yet… they only got to the first couple of steps to that. Seeing that zing in each other’s eyes that recognizes each other as soulmates, the bonding ritual, the return of past life memories…

Every time they get to that point, they’d remember that something was just… missing.

So they try, in each life to the next, to find some way to fix that last piece into place— test out all their theories.

What if there was something wrong that they did? Were they truly partners? What if one wasn’t their mate with the other?

It wasn’t until Price offered the idea that there may be… a fifth person… involved that their tactics changed.

But they never got lucky.

How come it was so easy to find each other but not…you?

They were just about to give up in this timeline, their lives being ran rugged in the military made their hearts weak and souls crushed already— why would they make the extra effort when they already had the partners they wanted right besides them?

But they regret saying that, bringing it up and believing in it when that familiar zing rings across their brains and underneath their skins as they see you— fresh eyed recruit sent right to their team.

It was like their prayers have finally been answered, all the sacrifices their past selves made now coming to fruition—

But you see no zing- you’ve never had one.

That must be another reason why you always happen to miss them- whether it be through an early death, a bad relationship, an unfortunate event, living across the country from them.

But no, you were always right near them. You just couldn’t find them like they did with each other.

It just didn’t click until now for you and they are distraught for you.

They are so happy, souls now complete and their memories as well— but you had nothing.

That feeling of wholeness and unconditional love— you couldn’t feel it.

So they swear, that from then on, they’d always find you next— no matter how many times they’d repeat it, all the struggles and pain, it was incomparable to you who felt nothing from a forced severed soul bond.

My sleepi and awake mind are cooking but im not in the kitchen- send help what the

Masterlist here! Prev dream idea i was talkin about here- its becoming a saga oml

[zumicho]

off the charts

© zumicho all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my works on any platform.

SYNOPSIS : you’re a radio show host engaged to a volleyball player. in a world where fate chooses your lover, he believes you’re his soulmate. so what if he’s not?

PAIRING ; kiyoomi sakusa x reader SMAU

TAGS / CWS : soulmate au, established relationship, angst & falling out, breakup, post ts. haikyuu, language, cheating, innuendo & suggestive — no smut but mentions & implications of, petnames and teeth rotting fluff !!!

◟ temporarily discontinued 📀 taglist open

♥︎ .ᐟ.ᐟ LAB ; SERENITY ; VOLLEYBOYS

TRACKS

🎵 one: every way

🎵 two:

🎵 three:

🎵 four:

🎵 interlude:

tba…

author’s note: music sheets = scores & charts, volleyball = scoring GET IT IM A GENIUS, going to attempt to worldbuild here wml

NAVI — M.LIST ⊹

@gl6ss @causenessus @guitarstringed-scars @whoislesiless @gra-eae @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @yuminako @aliensstolemyheart @ilyless @phoenix-eclipses @noascats @pattys-got-cakes @cryptictheseus @chloiyoomi @chemiru @mylahrins @kuroppiii @hyenagoated @ayaveraa @19calicos @giocriedpower @punkhazardlaw @sweetfushi @loveelylacey

[thewriterwithnoplan]

THE TRAITOR'S SOULMATE (2/2)

Summary: Humans once had four legs, four arms, two heads, and two hearts. For humanity's hubris, Zeus struck them in two. You and Luke Castellan are determined to find your way back to each other, but before that can happen, there are things the two of you need to do.

[Part 2 to The Hero's Soulmate]

Soulmate AU: You meet the future version of your soulmate.

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Word Count: 7378

Warnings: Canon typical warnings, swearing, I use the spelling 'mom' because the series is American but I - and I cannot stress this enough - am not American, she a long one.

A/N: I've loved reading your comments, thank you so much for all the support in part one. I hope you enjoy, because we all deserve a little Luke Castellan every now and then!

Masterlist

Amphitrite had been gifted a premonition and the world was all the worse for it. The dream had come from Apollo or perhaps the Oneiroi or whatever great heart pumped blood and Gods and monsters out into the world.

It did not matter to the Goddess from whom the vision came, for in this dream Amphitrite had watched her husband fall in love and sire a child to a mortal paramour. A precious boy that Poseidon might even one day love, with a taste for the colour blue and a heroism that would grow to rival his namesake. And for the Queen of the Seas, that simply would not do.

It would not be the child’s nor his mortal mother’s fault – she was not Hera after all – and so she would have to punish her husband for the blame would be his. But how was one to punish a King among Gods before his crime even came to be? Why to beat him at his own game, of course.

So, Amphitrite set out to sire her own demigod with the mortal man her husband would hate most. A devout catholic.

Amphitrite stayed with her mortal lover and their half-blood daughter until the girl was all but five.  Far longer than the greater Gods were wont to spend with their offspring. But what a precious babe she had bourn and what a traitorous husband she had back home.

But fate and prophecies and soulmates were such funny things. Inciting chaos. Inviting paradox. Introducing dangers untold.

It took Amphitrite all those years – though seemingly short in her immortality – to realise her fatal error. She had been the one to leave Poseidon. She had been the one to sire a child. She had been the one to drive her husband to the surface and his mortal. And so, the blame was hers to shoulder.

Amphitrite decided that she would be a self-fulfilling prophecy no longer. It was time to venture back below the surface.

In a last fit of guilt, she bestowed her first and final act of mercy unto her mortal lover. She told him everything.

When finally, she had gone back to the sea to reconcile with her husband, the catholic man took his turn to bestow his first and final act of mercy unto his young demigod child.

Against all the teachings of his faith. He abandoned his young daughter at Half-Blood Hill. And let the devil-spawn keep her life.

The Spirit of the Hudson River never did learn to like you. You with your greedy hands, snatching debris from its murky waters. You and your strange sea creature friends who would not dare brave such pollution were it not for your presence. Your pile of war spoils tossed aside like children’s toys. Your strange little bubble of air on the sandy floor of the river, where you stowed your treasures and slept bracketed by water. Were it not for the pollution that slopped against the edge of the river as if it were trying to escape you, the Hudson River Spirit might have chased you and your sea friends and your collection of trinkets out of his waters. But as it were, you made a strangely amicable tenant for a demigod. So, as long as you paid your dues the spirit let you keep your little underwater oasis.

For your first years living there, you made your way in New York City by selling lost things dredged from your river home. Bikes and old weaponry and tarnished jewellery and buckets of coins from across the world. You were careful and you coveted your few precious belongings, but with the rivers bounty, you rarely went hungry.

By the time you were fourteen, you found you could venture further into the city without as many questions. You had met an odd assortment of people whilst selling the lost and unloved things of the river; all who knew someone, who knew someone, who needed another set of hands and so you offered yours. You babysat and cleaned, worked in delis and sandwich shops, helped old women with their groceries and young families mend their clothes. A retired teacher gifted you packets of schoolwork and with little else to fill your hours under the river you took to learning. Your numbers came easier than letters and reading always gave you a hard time but the activities she gave you each time you tended to her balcony garden gave you something to do when the sounds of the city kept you up at night.

All the while you followed Percy Jackson from the recesses of the Hudson. Shuffling your little bubble and its blessedly dry treasures up and then back down the river as he was bounced listlessly from school to school. Watching over him as the mythosphere tried desperately to barge into his little mortal life. Feral harpies that tried to snatch him into the air, great snakes that tried to sneak through air vents and all manner of underworld-born sea creatures that sought to pull him below. You had wrestled and dismembered and slayed them all. Adding their feathers and scales and great weapons to your dragons-hoard.

You were sixteen when you finally knocked on Sally Jackson’s door to introduce yourself. You had spent weeks working yourself up to it, planning your outfit and then fussing over each piece. All your clothes had been gifts and were often a size too big or printed with some generic tagline like Spread peace not hate!; or made entirely from yarn that the old woman whose meals you prepped at the start of each week had gifted you after she had taught you how to crochet; or like the dress you wore now, were sown together from thrifted fabric scraps and embellished with pretty shells and baroque pearls. You had planned the time you would arrive down to the minute so that her oppressive husband would be out, but the hour would not be so late as to make an unexpected visit threatening. You had planned to keep Percy safe while you were away from him by entrusting your friends Clarence the Crab and Emily the Squid to supervise him for the evening.

What you had not planned for was the possibility that Sally Jackson would be the most lovely woman you had ever met. You had been struck dumb by it the moment she opened her door and greeted you with a kind smile. Couldn’t your mother have chosen a mortal as gentle as she to be your parent? Alas, the Gods had never done a thing for you.

“Can I help you, lovely?”

You tried not to burst into tears as you asked, “Mrs. Jackson?”

“Are you alright?” She opened the door wider, leant out and scanned the corridor behind you. “Is there something you need?”

“No ma’am. I’m here about your son, Percy. His father sent me.” A good ambiguous statement that would pique her curiosity but let on nothing about the Gods. Allowing you to spin your tale – that you were Percy’s long-lost step-sister, come to reconnect. 

“Poseidon?” Alas, the Gods had truly never done a thing for you. “Is something wrong? Is Percy, okay?”

“He’s fine Mrs. Jackson, I’ve been keeping him safe.” 

She scanned the hall behind you once more, “You best come in.”

Over a cup of tea, you told Sally Jackson everything.

You liked your home under the river. For lack of a better term, it allowed you to remain liquid. You could follow Percy wherever trouble took him. You could stay up until the city grew quiet for that brief moment before dawn. You could train with the Hudson River Spirit, even if he only entertained you because he enjoyed winning.

You liked your bed made out of stacked wood pallets and a mountain of blankets. You liked your wooden chest of draws stuffed full of trinkets and weapons and the precious few items you owned. You liked this place that you had carved out with your own two hands.

But you also liked your home in the Jackson household. Where there was always music playing. Where it was always warm and dry. Where there would always be some blue-ified food in the oven or blue candy in the mason jars by the sink.

It became your job in the summers to babysit Percy, to keep him away from Gabe and from danger while entertaining his endless need for motion. You took him to art galleries (which he hated) and aquariums (which he loved), to craft fairs (which he tolerated because he liked the things you made) and swimming pools (which he only liked when he won your swimming races).

“What even is a soulmate?” Percy had asked you one day at the park.

“The person with the other half of your soul,” You scrunched your nose up, “Or well, that's what people say.”

“You’re saying I’ve been walking around with half a soul?”

“I didn’t say I believed them,” You rattled your water bottle in front of his face until he took it. “Stay hydrated.”

He frowned at you, “You don’t believe in soulmates?”

“Of course I do, but it's a little more complicated than that, kid.” You took the water bottle back and played with the cap for a moment while you thought. “Think of it like this. You can have two different puzzles that are cut the same way, right? So all the pieces from one will fit with all the pieces from the other. But that doesn’t mean they belong together, the picture doesn’t come out quite right because even though the pieces fit, they don’t necessarily belong to the same puzzle. Maybe that’s what it was like for your mom, like she couldn’t find the pieces that made up her picture and so she went with the ones that fit at the time.”

“You don’t think my mom and dad were soulmates?”

“I never met your father.”

“But he’s your dad too.”

“He’s my mom’s husband. Maybe my mom and dad are soulmates.” Percy didn’t seem to like that answer.  “Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe your mom and my mom each have pieces that fit into your dad's puzzle but neither match his picture, or both. Maybe his picture is a year with your mom and a lifetime with mine and having you. Maybe he needs to collect all those little pieces at the right time when they’re the right shape or he’ll end up with a completely different picture at the end.”

“I kind of understand.” But he gave you a look that said he probably didn’t. “What picture are you making?”

You hid your smile behind the lip of your water bottle, “My soulmates about yay-high, pretty as a magazine cover with dimples and all. I’m collecting my puzzle pieces with you and your mom and this city so that I’ll have half of his picture.”

“If you know who he is, why don’t you just go find him now?”

“Still looking for some pieces, I guess.” You kicked a rock with the toe of your boot. “Souls are fragile. If you go rushing in and trying to jam the pieces in when they’re not shaped right just yet you could damage them.”

“What happens if you do that?”

“It’s probably harder to find each other in the next life. You’ll chip pieces away and your souls won’t fit right.” You shoved your hands into the pockets of your cardigan and pulled out a sandwich, you gave Percy the bigger half.

“Who taught you all this?”

“My mom used to tell me and well, I've thought about it a lot.” You tugged Percy by the back of his shirt so he didn't go stomping through a puddle, he glared. “But anyway, some people think it’s just fate. That you find your soulmate no matter what and it’s a perfect fit either way.”

“It would be easier that way.”

“Sometimes that’s just not how the story goes, kid.”

Percy thought that was the most important thing anyone had ever taught him, but he figured some of the other stuff you taught him came in handy too. You taught him the tricks you learned to work around your dyslexia. You taught him to skip stones and to not throw rocks at seagulls. You taught him to flip off the Empire State Building but only when his mom wasn’t around. You taught him to knit and do a cartwheel and make a good cup of tea to take his mother in the morning. You taught him to chew with his mouth shut and to sword fight with wrapping paper rolls. You taught him to braid hair and throw a punch and say all the swears in Ancient Greek.

And then one day, a Satyr came for Percy Jackson, and there was nothing left for you to teach. 

You wrote Sally a brief letter of warning, picked your way through seven years’ worth of belongings and collapsed your life into a backpack. You said goodbye to Clarence and Emily with a brief promise to visit, pushed a final wave of pollution from the waters and thanked the Hudson River Spirit for his hospitality. He gifted you sixteen perfect round pearls and insisted that he never wanted to see you again. You spent the bus ride to Long Island threading them into a necklace made of fishing wire, tying off each pearl with your teeth. 

It was a tentative tradition between demigod soulmates to exchange gifts upon their first meeting. So few and far between were the possessions of a half-blood that even the smallest bauble would likely mean the world. The practice had died out some over the centuries as the Gods received fewer offerings from mortals and turned to their children for sacrifices. Gift-giving to your soulmate as a demigod became all but synonymous with spitting at the feet of the divine and loudly proclaiming you would make offerings to your soulmate instead. A pearl necklace would be an excellent final addition to the collection of small gifts you had assembled over the years. Let the Gods weep at your feet and beg for scraps if they needed them so much, you would ignore them just as they had ignored you. 

You arrived at Camp far sooner than you might have liked, a few hours past mid-day when hopefully the rest of your ilk would be occupied with meaneal chores and activities. You considered waiting at the crest of the hill for someone to notice you only to find a pine tree planted firmly at its peak where you might have stood. Instead, you make the alarmingly easy trek down to the Big House.

“Chiron!” He had always been your favourite of the two men, currently sat on the porch drinking juice and playing cards. 

“Yes, my girl?” He barely spared you a glance as he shuffled his cards between his weathered hands. He stilled for a moment and then tossed his head back in the way a horse might toss its mane. “My dear!” 

You raised a hand, halfway between a salute and a wave, “Nice to know I haven’t been totally forgotten.”

“Au contraire.” Mr. D stuck his nose up at you. “Which one are you again?” 

“The little one that went missing some seven years ago,” Chiron stood as you climbed the stairs onto the porch. “How are you, my dear? Where have you been?”

“Shouldn’t you be at Yancy Academy?”

Mr. D’s eyes turned sharp in the way that had once made your friends whisper that some days, he was more maniac than man , “And how do you know about that little girl?”

“Percy Jackson is at Yancy,” You smiled at him, all teeth, “How did you think he survived long enough for your baby satyr to find him?” 

“You have been protecting young demi-gods?” Chiron asked wearily. 

“Percy Jackson is a full-time job, I’m afraid,” You tugged at the strap of your backpack, praying you could keep control of the conversation. You had a lot of time under the river to think and this was one of many things you had spent countless hours mulling over. Weighing and considering what story you would tell them – to tell the truth of both your parentage and put Percy in harm's way or to lie and balance your life on its sharp edge. “I found him in Manhattan, he was like a magnet for mythological activity. By the time I’d had enough of rebelling and wanted to come back to camp, I was protecting him from attacks every other week. He wouldn’t have lasted a month. I came back as soon as I could.” 

No matter how many times you played it out in your head, the lies won every time. 

“Kids.” Mr. D threw back the last of his juice.

“Perhaps you should settle back into the Hermes Cabin, dear.” Chiron smiled down at you, the corners of his eyes pinched, “You’ve given myself and Mr. D much to talk about. We’ll settle the issue of your paperwork tomorrow.”

“Of course.” You rustled through your bag, digging up a palm sized statuette that you set onto the table. “Before I forget, I brought you a gift Mr. D.”

“A toy,” He snatched it up. “Oh joy.”

“It’s you, as the mortals’ see you. It’s from the gift shop at the Met.”

“How kind of you, my dear.” Chiron softened, and you watched as even Mr. D’s temper seemed to ease, his hands gentle around the gift as he admired it. 

An unseeing piece of plastic for the God who served as no more than a silent observer over the affairs of the camp. Let him choke on his ego, you thought as you left the pair to their discussion. 

Cabin 11 was blessedly empty when you entered, but your old bunk was not. A pile of clothes was thrown haphazardly across the bedspread. You snatched a sleeping bag and a lumpy pillow from the storage closet and threw them down with your bag. If you could not have the bunk that had been yours at twelve, you would claim the corner that had been yours at five. As you shook out the sleeping bag and pulled out your belongings, you tried not to think of your bed of blankets under the river or Sally Jackson’s couch. 

Instead you turned your mind to the Big House and the conversation that was no doubt happening within. 

You had constructed a perfect image, if you did say so yourself. Grown in ways Mr. D could not have predicted but Chiron would insist he had foreseen. Still a rebellious young woman in the mortal sense, with your scuffed leather boots and ripped jeans. But the parts that had screamed ‘insubordination’ to the Gods were neatly tucked away. Your twin knives strapped to your forearms under the billowing sleeves of your crocheted top, your vicious tongue caged behind a sweet grin, your once sharp stare softened at the edges.

Once you had fashioned yourself so that the Gods could not paint you as a hero, now you fashioned yourself so that they might forget you were an enemy. 

Let Chiron think you were a misunderstood wayward girl scout come home from her self-imposed quest. Let Mr. D think you were a stupid girl who had seen the world beyond the Gods’ protection and finally accepted that you needed them. Let them all think wrong. You had left to protect your brother and returned for one reason only. 

“You’re here.” 

You turned, and there he was, “Luke Castellan.” 

He opened his mouth and then closed it, limbs jerking slightly as if he wasn’t sure whether to move toward you or stay put. He was almost certain you could hear the way his pulse was racing, his heartbeat clanging wildly in his chest as he searched desperately for a suave reply, but everything else seemed lack lustre when you said his name like that.

Your face twisted into something like anger and for a moment he thought he’d messed it all up before your lips curled and you practically spat, “I do like your scar.”

And then he was laughing at you, wild and bewildered and not the least bit contained. Before long you were laughing too, neither of you quite sure what was funny, just so wholly relieved as your chests were flooded with wonder and warmth.

It felt like fireworks and popping candy. Just as he had promised all those years ago. You resisted the urge to throw up on his Converse. 

You might have been crying and he might been too but you weren’t exactly sure because one moment you were both laughing at nothing and the next he was on the floor with you. He held you like he had never held a single thing in his life, like he was lost at sea and you were the only solid thing for miles. He tucked your head under his chin and sucked in great forced breaths that you could feel beneath your cheek. Because he was warm and there and real. And that meant the last seven years, the better part of your life, hadn’t been for nothing. 

 You and Luke make your way to dinner side by side. You had spent the afternoon rambling about your lives, about your meetings with your future selves, about your home under the river, about his responsibilities as a camp counsellor and yours as your brother’s keeper. He told you about Annabeth and Thalia and the rest of his siblings, you told him about your parents and Sally Jackson and your sea friends. You gave him his necklace which he lets you fix in place at the base of his throat – you do not spend a moment too long running your hand up the back of his neck and through his curls. 

He had been almost bashful when he gifted you a watch that matched his, inlaid with twin fragments of mother of pearl taken from the same shell – kind of like your soul had been, he had said. You swear you’ve never owned anything as precious. You let him strap it to your wrist as he tells you about spending a summer diving for it in the lake. And then softly, tentatively, he tells you about his quest.

Luke could have cried from the way you were looking at him alone, so very gently, like you could cradle him with your gaze alone. At a loss for words, you simply whispered, “I am so proud of you.”

His grip is iron-clad and you tell your next story with your face pressed into the side of his neck, pretending you can’t feel him shaking softly. 

When you make your way to dinner you’re both glowing with the soft exhaustion of emotion. You all but lean against one another as you collect your goblets and fill your plates.

The other campers steer clear of you, content to leave Luke to chauffeuring the new kid around. You count yourself lucky, it was only a matter of time until one of the older campers recognised you.

You were almost to the end of the Hermes table – that perfect spot at the end where you might just have a chance of holding a private conversation after dinner – when Chiron interrupted you. 

“Mr. Castellan, I see you’ve acquainted yourself with our newly returned camper.”

“That’s my job, sir.” You tried not to stare at the crooked smile he flashed the centaur. 

“Perhaps you ought to show her how to make an offering,” Chiron says pointedly, “She’s been away for a long time, and it’s your responsibility to treat her as you would any other incoming Camper.”

Luke turned to you, his boyish grin still charming but the mirth leaking out of his eyes, “Of course. Do you remember how it’s done?” 

“I do. Just not a lot of food to be spared in the mortal world.” 

You squinted, the corners of your mouth pulled up in what Chiron would likely mistake for sheepishness. But Luke could see it in your eyes. How your anger had made you pointy in all the places someone your age ought to be soft. He wondered how all the jagged edges of you would feel against all the jagged edges of him. He thought maybe if the two of you were careful, you could make something smooth as sea glass and twice as pretty, together.

You dump a clump of mashed potatoes into the fire with an unconcerned flick of your fork. Luke lops part of his own meal on top of yours, you glare enviously at the reasonable portion he had left on his plate. You hoped the food would burn at the bottom of the braiser. 

“Sorry, sir.” You mocked Luke. He stuck his tongue at you once Chiron had turned his back. 

You hurried to snag the seat at the end of his table, sliding into place across from each other. You flounder for a moment, wondering whether to draw your legs as far under your seat as they will go or bask in the gentle brush of his knee against his leg. You settle for the latter and try not to evaporate under his gaze, as he stares at you even as you start eating.

Luke realised he’d spent too long staring when you all but groaned, “Don’t tell me I have to sacrifice my dinner to you too.” 

He flashed you a grin, then tried to say as nonchalantly as possible,“Is that why you left? So you could enjoy a proper meal every once and a while?”

You stared at him for a long while, “You, future you, told me to leave, to find my brother.”

“Why would I do that? If you had stayed at Camp–”

“That’s almost exactly what I said to you.” You pushed your food around as you stared at a point just beyond his head, he thought for a moment that he could see the neurons firing behind your eyes, like a hundred tiny zaps of lightning, “But I’ve had plenty of time to think about it. And I think you were right to send me away.”

“I don’t think I’ll be hearing that very often.” He dodged the pea you fling at him with a grin. 

“I think maybe if I don’t leave, I won’t become this me or do the things I’ve done and maybe that’s important for us or our future or some past you rewrote by telling me to leave.”

“Seems overly complicated.” 

“I think it’s supposed to be complicated,” You couldn’t help but admire the quiet skill with which he wielded his cutlery, “If it were easy, we would find each other in every universe.”

He paused, knife aloft, “You don’t want to find each other in every universe?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want.” You speared a leaf of spinach onto your fork to hide your scowl behind as you said, “The Gods have made it this way to keep us separated.”

“We’re together now.” 

“Which means they lost.”

Luke watched you for a drawn out heartbeat, then leaned over to transfer the perfect squares of meat he’d been cutting onto your plate. 

You took a long moment to chew before you said, “So, your plan to send me after Percy worked.”

“I thought it was your plan.”

“I forgot to ask you whose plan it was.”

“I say it’s your plan.” He took a long pull from his goblet that left his lips tinted red. 

“It doesn’t matter what you think.” You passed him a napkin before he could ask, “It’s what you will think.”

“Sure, Precious.” He smothers a laugh into the napkin at the way you scrunch your nose at him, “You know, because you're so protective of your food. Like Gollum with the ring.”

“That’s the stupidest explanation for a pet name I’ve ever heard.” But you’re damn near head down on the table as you laughed. “I definitely got the smarter half of our soul.”

“Then it was definitely your plan.”

You’ve still got a hand pressed to your face to conceal your smile when you say, “What about when I meet you? Any words of wisdom?”

“Try not to fall for me. I can tell you’re pretty charmed but it’s really not appropriate. I’m seventeen, and you’re what? Twenty-four?” 

You launched your bread roll at him. You’re twice as incensed when he catches it whilst looking directly at you, “Asshole.”

“Smartass. See, two can play that game.”

Luke can’t help but think you’re just as pretty sneering as you are smiling, like no expression no matter how ugly could detract from your beauty. Maybe you’re like him, he scarcely dared to hope. Maybe you’re something better, another part of him whispered. The way you talk about the Gods and turn your nose up at them, and play their game only when it suits you. 

You weren’t vengeful in the way he was. You weren’t the spitting vicious thing the Camp had liked to pretend you were when you weren’t around to prove otherwise. You were worse and better and everything he needed. You were a storm on the horizon, a snake coiled tight. You were better than just angry. You were disillusioned. Not a product of juvenile resentment but true wrath born of awareness. Not the wild foaming-at-the-mouth kind that he had imagined when he had first heard your name. But the dark carefully contained kind he had seen in the face you would grow into.

This, Luke thought, you were the start of everything.

It’s some weeks later when you stick your hands through the grating of the bunk above Luke as leverage to lean over him and croon, “Up and at ‘em, Pretty Boy.”

He pushed his face out of his pillow, curls sticking up at odd angles as he looked at you half-asleep, “What?”

“Remember? Training?”

“No,” He scrubbed sleep from his eyes, “What did you call me?”

“Sickly.” 

“I don’t think that was it.” He propped his head up on a fist as he smiled at you sleepily. 

It was so disgustingly cute that you had to turn your back when you said, “Just meet me there.” 

Luke’s freshly showered and holding an apple core when he deigns to join you in the forest. He tossed the apple at you and you caught it without thinking. You fake gag at him as you throw it further into the forest. 

You wiped your hands against his shoulder as you say, “I’m not sure if an apple core counts but that was dangerously close to an Ancient Greek proposal, Castellan.”

“I got hungry.” He shrugged. You squared off across the clearing, stretching as you warmed yourselves up for the ensuing sparring match. 

“You’re going to have to do better than that.”

“Is this you rejecting me?” He landed an open hand on his chest and staggered backward. “You wound me, Precious!”

“Was that you proposing? Because I’m,” You wiped your hand again for good measure, scrunching your nose up, “Disgusted.”

“You would be honoured if I had just proposed to you.” 

“You should be nicer to me.”

“And go easy on you just because you’re my soulmate? Unlikely.”

“Because, asshole, I’m the one who got you out of chores this morning, or have you forgotten already. You seemed rather grateful for your little sleep-in.”

He unsheathed his sword and twirled it round in his hand, “You’re a bad influence.” 

“Like you weren’t ready to worship the ground I walk on when I told Chiron you needed to get my training up to speed.” 

“Do you want me to tell you, you’re brilliant?” He pointed his sword toward you with that grin that made you want to hold him down just so you could admire it longer. “You’re brilliant.”

“You’re stalling.” You pull your knives out, one from your boot, the other from your belt. You miss your old clothes with their pretty sleeves and their personality, your camp shirt seems a poor trade in comparison. 

“Stalling? Me?” Luke scoffed. “Never!”

“Don’t you have a counsellor meeting at half-past?”

“I do, so please don’t feel bad when you lose. I only have half an hour to wrap this up. You understand.”

“Who’s fault is that Mr. Just-five-more-minutes?”

He gasped in mock offence and lunged forward, his sword swinging at you in a great arch. You leapt back, out of his range, then ducked low and rushed toward him. Luke was quick, in a viciously smooth move he swept his sword at you again. You brought your knives together, bracing as the impact ricocheted up your arms. Admittedly, you were at a great disadvantage given that you were reluctant to throw a knife at Luke’s head – even though he’d demonstrated an impressive ability to swipe your wayward throws out of the air – and that he had an additional several feet of reach on you.

Luke feigned to the right, you lashed out at his left side and narrowly avoided his sword as it came down at you. He whistled slowly as both of you backed up to circle each other for a moment. 

“You’ve got moves, I’ll give you that.” 

And so the dance went on. Luke struck, you parried or slipped out of his blade's path with a flourish. You struck, Luke swung his sword and slipped around your blows. Finally, you found the chink in his precious armour. He fell back to his right foot when he deflected a blow. You jerked forward. You jabbed the knife clutched in your left hand toward him as you moved in with the right. Just as you hooked a foot around the back of his leg, Luke’s sword made contact with your left shoulder slicing through sleeve and skin. Luke fell backward with a sharp hiss, his sword flying to the side.

In the end you had laid him out flat in twenty minutes. Luke Castellan had spent the last seven years fighting to win. You had spent them fighting to survive. You supposed it didn’t hurt that the greatest swordsman to enter Camp Half-Blood in nearly three centuries was reluctant to let anything sharp or pointed anywhere near you. You secretly thought he might have been going easy on you for being his soulmate after all. You collapsed on the forest floor beside him, your chest heaving to draw in oxygen. 

“I’m sorry about your shirt,” Luke huffed. 

“Orange isn’t really my colour.”

He turned to you with a wink, “Oh but it is.” 

You wave your hand through the air.

“I’ve gotten very good at putting broken things back together over the years.” He tried not to look at the line of stitching that ran from the ankle of your jeans to the rips at your knee. You tried not to look at his cheek. Instead you reached out and trailed your hands across his necklace where the pearls sat snuggly at the base of his throat. 

“You’re wonderful.” He brushed his knuckles down your shoulder and they came away red. “Even covered in blood you’re the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen.” 

You groaned, “Sweetness, you can’t just say–”

“You call me Sweetness when you visit me.” He whispered it like it was his greatest secret. You traced up his throat to his cheek and pressed your thumb into his dimpled cheek. “You’re still being wonderful. I can’t think when you’re–”

“Wonderful?”

“Okay, Smartass.” He sighed up at the sky, then pulled the both of you to your feet, “Enough lounging, we need to get that cut checked.” 

You let him dust the dirt from you and resheath your knives, one in your boot, the other in your belt. Silently revelling in the gentle way he tugs you this way and that. You were well on your way to the infirmary, shoulders bumping and fingers just barely brushing, before he spoke again.

“Where does it come from? The nickname.”

“Sweetness?” 

He looked away from you and squinted off into the distance, as if you were suddenly too bright to look at, “Yeah.”

“My mom used to tell me this story about meeting her soulmate. She probably meant Poseidon, but at the time I thought it was about my dad,” The back of Luke’s hand bumped into yours again, his fingers catching yours, his gaze resolutely ahead but you were definitely holding hands. “She said it felt like swallowing lightning and gorging yourself on popping candy. Like sweetness.”

“You like popping candy?”

“It’s my favourite.” You gave him a queer look as if to say, it’s not yours, you utter heathen?

Luke laughed at you all the way to the Apollo Cabin as he listed all the reasons it was the sub-par candy option. Nonetheless, when you emerge from the infirmary, he unloads a fistful of little packets he’d pinched from the candy bowl when the Apollo kids’ hadn’t been looking.

“Who has sub-par candy options now, Sweetness?” You teased, your mouth crackling merrily.

“Keep calling me that and you can have all the terrible candy you want.”

“Try some,” You shoved a packet toward him, because if he kept saying silly things like that and looking at you the way he was you were liable to do or say something equally as stupid. “You’ve got half my soul, maybe it’s our favourite.”

“I don’t think they had popping candy when we had one soul,” He flicks the packet held between your fingers. “And aren’t you the one who says we’re puzzle pieces not halves?”

“You have been listening to me!”

“Hard not to.”

“Asshole.” You flashed your teeth at him.

“Smartass.” He said, but the bite wasn’t there. He was watching you again, in that way he did sometimes before he said something stupid that made you want to throw yourself in the lake or run back to Manhattan or do something equally as stupid, like kiss him. “You–”

You twisted your hand in the front of his shirt and jerked him toward you, the little sachet crinkling in your fist. For a heartbeat, you were both silent, an inch away and staring as if you could will the other to be the one to press forward. But then he closed his eyes and Luke Castellan was kissing you. Like lightning and popping candy. With all the elegance of two lovestruck teenage fools and all the heat of two people who knew they had all the time in the world but still couldn’t bear to waste a second of it. His hand held you by the chin and then splayed lightly across your cheek and tucked hair softly behind your ear. You were only just reaching for the mess of curls at the back of his head when someone wolf whistles.

“My favourite.” Luke grinned, licked his lips and then turned. Hands stuffed in his pockets and a big stupid grin stretched across his face, as he shouted at you, “Stay out of trouble.”

You flip off the Aphrodite kid who’d whistled at you, and hurried back to the Apollo Cabin. You and Luke Castellan were going to need a lot more popping candy. 

You’re in the lake, encased in an air bubble, sprawled out side by side with your backs against the sand, when Luke tells you what he’s done. That mere weeks before your arrival he had done the unthinkable. He had robbed the King of the Gods blind and betrayed half the Pantheon in doing so. You weren't sure whether to laugh or cry.

You had simply laid there, silently, for what had felt like aeons to Luke but maybe that had only been because he had to keep reminding himself not to hold his breath. He wasn’t drowning. You weren’t going to turn him in. He hadn’t just blown his whole plan and his life with his soulmate in one fell swoop. He just had to keep breathing and wait for you to say something. He thinks that maybe your mother had passed on some divine knack for diplomacy as Queen of the Sea with the way you seem to turn the issue of his betrayal over and over in your head. 

After a while, you reach your arm toward the bubble and the sky. For a brief, terrifying moment, Luke thinks you’re going to pull the lake down on him. When you don’t Luke spends another infinite second wondering whether he would just let you do it. 

He tosses the thought aside and focuses on the coin weaving between your knuckles. Like magic, it appears and disappears around the bends of your fingers but it wasn't real magic, just you fidgeting. He pressed his lips together and tried not to think about you at the bottom of the Hudson River, flipping your coin and turning over the issue of your soulmate and your brother and the camp you’d left behind. What is it you had said? You’d had plenty of time to think about those things. 

Maybe that's what you need now – time. He’s about to offer it to you, offer to swim his way back to shore so you can think, even if he'd probably drown on the way. He’d give you all the time in the world if he had it. 

But then you finally speak, the golden drachma rolling between your fingers, “If you hurt my brother, soulmate or not, I will kill you.”

“I am your soulmate.” He insisted as the implication made his skin itch.

“You are.” Your smile was so gentle it almost felt sad. “So you understand that my love for him comes before my hatred of the Gods. If you have put him in danger wit–”

“We get married.” He blurted. “We have a future. I woke you, when you visited me. That must mean I win.”

“It means, if that’s the path we’re even on, if those people are even the versions of us that we become… maybe you don’t hurt Percy.”

“I won’t.” He swore and you weren’t sure how to ignore the half of your soul that lies so sweetly. “I wouldn’t.”

“Maybe.” You swallowed like you’d been chewing glass your whole life, and someone had finally offered you something substantial to sink your teeth into. “Maybe if we leave now, there’s a world in which I don’t have to pick between my blood and my soul.”

Luke was quiet for a long moment, “We could recruit him. You said it yourself, he’ll be more powerful than any of us.”

“He’s twelve.”

“He’s the son of Poseidon.”

“He’s twelve.”

“You were twelve when you left to protect him.”

“And look how that turned out,” Your grin was brittle, but he swore you were still the loveliest creature he’d ever laid eyes on. “I’m sat here planning to betray everything I was raised to follow.”

“You’re going to follow me?”

Your eyes traced the shape of his jaw, his nose, his scar. You looked pained, “I fear I would follow you into much worse, Luke Castellan.”

“I’m trying to lead you to something better.” He reached for your hand, took the drachma from your fingers, and pressed a slow, soft kiss to your palm. He smiled and there were dimples in his cheeks and tears in his eyes as he whispered, “We can try for better.”

“Leave Percy.” You pressed your fingers to his cheek, “Let him come to camp, let him join us when he’s ready.”

“You’re sure he’ll join us?”

“He will, I know it. We just need to let him see the Gods’ apathy for himself.” And you sighed. Luke wondered how many lifetimes your souls had seen, how many times you had searched for each other, how many times you had been torn apart. You sound ancient when you say, “You and I have seen more than enough.”

He turned his head and whispered in the scarce distance between you, “What do you propose?” 

“We leave. As soon as anyone catches on, we take anyone who agrees with us and flee.” You brought his hand to your mouth and pressed your lips to his knuckles firmly, “We can plot your revenge and plan my new world on the way.”

Luke feels ancient when he promises, “Okay, on the way then.”

But he swears, as you lean forward and kiss him, that no matter how many times you do it this lifetime or in all the lifetimes until this story – of you and Luke Castellan – became ancient, it would still never stop feeling like the first time.

Like lightning and popping candy.

Tag List:

@emelia07 @star611 @7s3ven @kissingyourgrl @myxticmoon @shermanno @moonsficrec @soleilgrec

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

real quick. to the the anon in my inbox a few weeks back asking about how free use medic came to be the agreed-upon method of stress relief for the whole of 141: i love you, you're perfect, i'm not ignoring you; i am drafting in direct response. several things.

at the anon who sent me the ask minutes ago about a particular au with Soap: good god. good god. i have 8 solid hours of meetings tomorrow and that's all i'm gonna be thinking about. thank you for the brain rot. rip.

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. Master List

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Each chapter will have its warnings posted. This is typical stuff when it involves the Winchesters, no matter what AU they are in, lol.

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers. Not sure when this one will be up and available to read yet. Just getting the chapter list started for it.

A/N: Stuck with writers block on chapter 33 - update here.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35

As always, if you'd like to be tagged, let me know, and I'll add you.

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @jamerlynn @jackles010378 @bruhidkjustwannaread @onthehuntforshinies

@chriszgirl92 @angzls @xolivvies-cornerxo @certainsaladstarfish @onlyangel-444

@nancymcl @muhahaha303 @suckitands33 @kr804573 @justrandomthougt

@suckitands33 @mxtansy @scarletqueenx @krazykelly @roseblue373

@whimsyfinny @ladysparkles78 @aaathazagoraphobiaaa @hobby27 @perpetualabsurdity

@cicibunbuns @n-o-p-e-never @vanessa-boo @foxyjwls007 @uoberpmollah

@xolivvies-cornerxo @certainsaladstarfish @kdadss @bitchykittenconnoisseur @reignsboy19

@bonbonnie88 @ghostieghoul711 @flamencodiva @kayleezee @stillhere197

@lexasaurs634 @enamoredwithbella @winchester-whiskey @brandinicole911 @swaggyemily

@megs-gadom @dianawinchester03 @nikimisery @cheekygirl2309 @ashleybutler

@deans-baby-momma @bobbdylan @tommysaxes @likedbygaslyy

[bangtangalicious]

placebo (m) | pjm (3)

pairing: jimin x reader (ft. jungkook & namjoon)

premise: you're assigned a soulmate backed by the science of compatibility that hopes to promote healthier, long-lasting, loving relationships. you find yours: park jimin is the exact opposite of you. a member of a notorious resistance gang, he doesn't believe in science, love, or the state.

summary: you find out that jimin isn't your true soulmate. he was a placebo - a series of control trials to see if simply thinking someone is your soulmate would be enough to make you fall in love. the issue is, you did. you did fall in love. hard.

genre: 18+ romance, smut, angst, soulmate!au, dystopian, love triangle, romeo-juliet, opposites attract, hurt-comfort

characters: student!reader, vigilante!jimin, student!jungkook, scientist!namjoon

warnings: 18+, contains smut, angsty smut, rough penetrative sex, creampie, cock warming, breast play, a lot of kissing. like a lot. emotional sex, oral sex (m), fingering, praise kink, jimin is a pro at snapping that bra off, a lot of stimulation, a lot of foreplay, aftercare, they're in love okay it's cheesy, feelings of fear, hurt, government conspiracy, medical procedure, memory loss, cursing

taglist: @tornparts @loona15 @effielumiere @agustdream8 @jnghs @dragons-flare @xiusmarshmallow @ratherbefangirling @infires-imagines @aretha170 @dvalitaes @kookiejeonie @ddaeng-angmoh @idk123906 @cuteipat @uarmyhore @natalie-rdr @yawnkive @sukunabitch @withluvjm @thesmeraldogirl @theceraunophilegirl

wc: 7k | series masterlist | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Jimin—

“We’re not actually soulmates.”

Disappointment couldn’t even begin to explain what Jimin was feeling as he saw your eyes shatter in front of him. His heart was already beating wildly with a sense of pounding worry—all from your tears. He wasn’t the kind of guy who expressed himself. He was a pawn. A soldier, of sorts. He took action.

Right now, he was paralyzed. Every drop of blood drained from him in one rush of cold. He was left with nothing. Not even your touch held enough comfort to warm the life back into him. His breath even, mocking him with a charade of calmness.

You continued to explain. He heard you—he swore he did, but everything seemed to numb him from comprehending.

“It was a placebo, where the chip signals but we aren’t actually compatible. So the basis for everything we felt—or everything we think we feel, was a lie. Jungkook found out and,”

Jimin blinked. Looking at you. You were still there. You were still real. Your eyes swollen with tears. Hearing your words hurt, but seeing you like this hurt even more. He needed to be strong for you—you were falling apart in front of him, and he was too stubborn to let you.

He wasn’t going to let you go.

Because he didn’t care. He didn’t care—in fact, a rush seemed to pulse into him, beckoning him onwards—the fact that you might have been some government-implanted craving he had was the only reason he was trying to stay away from you initially. You fought for him. And fuck, he loved you. It was too soon to say it. Hell—probably too soon to feel it but he didn’t have a doubt in his mind.

Last night, as he fell asleep in your arms, all he could wish for was to have that every day for the rest of his life. He had never felt so strongly bound to another person. Never felt so seen, so cherished.

This wasn’t about some microchip in your necks. To him, it never had been. You cared for him when he was hurt. You were a fucking nerd, obsessed with your geeky job in a way that enamored him. You worked so hard, were so fiercely determined and dedicated to your cause. You were messy, clumsy, a stickler for rules where Jimin liked to bend them, break them, or ignore them altogether.

He loved the person you were, unfiltered—he loved the person you wanted to become, and most of all he loved the way you loved him. Your heart on your sleeve. Calling out his bullshit. And always being exactly what he needed even if he didn’t know it himself.

And he knew all of this. So why did he feel so fucking terrified?

Jimin swallowed deeply. His hand leaving your face as you searched him for a reaction through glassy eyes.

“Tell me what this means to you, doctor” His words were hushed. His fingers gliding over your wrists before circling them into his hold. His lips hovered over yours, foreheads resting against one another.

Jimin wasn’t an idiot. He knew exactly what it meant to you. But he needed to hear you say it. He knew how hard you had fought for him. He had tried so hard to push you away, but you persisted because you believed in the Soulmate Initiative so strongly. That had been the catalyst. For you—it had been the condition of your love.

“Jimin” You exhaled. The regret in your voice carved into his heart.

“You know that never mattered to me” His grip on your wrists tightened, as if his touch would make you understand. It was all he could do to not scream—not begin to pathetically beg you not to care. Not to change anything—not to leave him.

He could see you scrambling for words. “There’s still a chance—” You attempted to reason. Because that’s who you were. Hard facts and logic. Your voice choked—Jimin couldn’t look at you a second longer. It was too fucking painful. Too painful to sit there and watch as you gave up on him.

He needed to leave. Get far away from you and think. Because right now he felt so helpless, so powerless—he didn’t trust himself not to say something he’d ultimately regret.

His eyes were red, wet with anger. A façade to cover the shattering in his chest.

“I have to get to class, doctor” His voice was serene. His gaze, tumultuous.

“Jimin please,” You tried to pull him back as he stood up. He yanked his hand away from you, rougher than he meant to, but enough for you to get the hint. “I’m so sorry”

He took a few steps towards the door. Turning back, he looked at you one last time. Your tear-stained cheeks. Your quivering lips.

“I’m not sorry” He swallowed thickly. Pulling on his leather jacket and grabbing his helmet, he tucked in under his arm. “I will never be sorry for falling for you, doctor”

“There might—” Jimin held up his palm.

“I’ll come back” His eyes softened as if to ease your anxiety, “We can talk about this later”

He was out of the door in seconds, unable to look you in the eye again. The fresh, cold air hit him like salvation from the tension. He gasped, breathing the sharp air in as his tears unleashed.

Sinking to the floor, he buried his head between his knees. His fingers gripping his hair in frustration as he sobbed quietly. He jerked his head back, hitting the door as he punched the ground next to him. Cursing loudly as he crumbled.

You—

Jimin would be back any second. You’d never felt quite so nervous. So anxious—not even when you opened your decision letter for your PhD program—not ever. He’d be back. Be home. And you two would have to face the impending doom you’d introduced to him.

More than anything, you felt guilty. Guilty that you were responsible for what he was going through right now. After trying so hard to convince him that he even deserved love, let alone from you—to gain his trust and then put him into this grey space of uncertainty. It wasn’t lost on you how unfair it was.

The mere thought of living your life like you had before Jimin—was pointless. He had awoken something within you. As frustrating as he was, as much of a tease and a flirt—he made every day feel like an adventure. He brought you to life in a way nothing else quite did.

But if your real soulmate was out there, you couldn’t help but wonder. Was it all fake attraction? Was what you could find with someone you were truly compatible with even better than this? More magical? More right?

You had to know.

And you knew Jimin wouldn’t see it that way. But even if you chose to ignore it—to let it go, it would drive a wedge between the two of you inevitably. Jimin’s flaws seemed to glare at you in a way that they hadn’t before. Everything impossible about your relationship seemed to weigh on you because you didn’t have the blind faith in the system anymore. You didn’t have the promise that this is how it was supposed to be.

The ring of your doorbell sent your heart into somersaults. You buzzed him, nervously tugging at your sleeves. You wanted to look pretty for him—unsure if that was cruel of you, but you couldn’t help but think that these were a collection of your final moments together.

He walked inside. Tired eyes, raven hair wispy from the wind. The cold tinting his cheek and nose. His black motorcycle jacket hugged his figure. The familiar scent of cigarettes and gasoline which you had come to associate with comfort. A scent that once made you nauseous.

Slugging his backpack off, he set it aside. Neatly, he unlaced his boots before stepping inside. He regarded you with a soft smile. His deep brown eyes were simultaneously relieved and broken.

“Hey you”

You approached him slowly, immediately wrapping your arms around his torso. You inhaled him. His unadulterated bliss. He was cold, but so warm. And when his arms wrapped around you, cradling your head to the crook of his neck, leaning into you—you wanted to simply melt.

You looked up. His pretty eyes—the way he looked at you—God. His touch flushed you over with heat as his palm reached your cheek, thumb caressing over your jaw, teasing your bottom lip.

You didn’t know what to say to him. It seemed, you didn’t need to say anything. Jimin sighed into you, his lips relaxing against yours. So soft. So tender. Incredibly sweet.

And you wouldn’t stop him. Maybe it was avoidance. The impending melancholy of the night you were about to have. The inevitable heartache. You deepened the kiss, pulling Jimin closer to you desperately.

He grinned against your lips as you did. Hands falling to your hips before cupping the backs of your thighs. He lifted you up, still kissing you with the same delicateness. Taking you to the couch where he sat you both down.

Falling to his back, you crawled on top of him. Lips not parting. Breaths getting heavier.

Because when you kissed, nothing else mattered. Nothing else even existed. There was only him. Him and the storm of pleasure brewing in your chest. The heat coursing through your veins. The dizziness spinning in your head.

His fingers curled over your hip as he flipped you down. Hovering over you now, he admired you. Eyes memorizing your every crevice. His chain fell from his neck, the cool metal making you shiver as it glided across your hot skin.

He peeled off his jacket, leaving only his tight white t-shirt, before returning to you. Body caging yours in. Forearms resting on either side of your face as his fingers traced your cheeks.

“I don’t tell you enough” He murmured. You raised your eyebrows, curious. “You’re so fucking beautiful, doctor. So pretty,” His eyes were half-lidded, kissing you chastely, “Sexy..gorgeous..mine” He smacked against your lips between each word—sending a rush of praise to your head.

And you loved it. You loved his words like they were feathers tickling against you. His voice was silk and you wanted to dance in it for eternity.

The pressure of his body felt incredible against yours, his heat like a blanket. You’d never felt so safe—so cherished in his hold.

“Where the hell did you even come from, doctor?” He hummed playfully against your lips, “How the hell find me? You’re a fever. You’re my disease and my cure”

You tugged at his chain, urging him to kiss you harder. To glue his lips to yours.

He groaned, hips rolling flush against yours as his mouth worked you into serenity. You could feel how badly he needed you, but he was taking his time. On the other hand, you were frantic. Your fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. Tugging it up his torso as he chuckled. You could feel his scalding skin on your fingertips. Exploring the expanse of him. The contours of his body, the soft skin.

His teeth tugged at your lip, nipping at you playfully as you scratched your nails against his chest. He finally allowed you to pull this shirt over his head, giving you a moment to admire him, chain contrasting against his golden skin before you tugged off your own top.

You were left in sheer light green bra. Delicate. Something you had bought as a joke a long time ago, wondering if it would actually make you feel more confident. Jimin’s pupils darkened.

“Let me” He exhaled shakily. You turned over, on your knees as Jimin held you up—one hand on your neck pulling you back to him. His fingers gripped your jaw as he kissed your cheek, smirking against you as his other hand expertly snapped your bra off. So fast that it sent shivers down your spine. He replaced where the latch once was pressing into your back with his own lips, kissing up your spine until melting at your nape.

You arched your back as the bra slid down your arms, onto the floor. Jimin’s coarse fingers immediately covering your breasts. Pinching your nipple between his fingers sensually. Trailing butterfly kisses up your neck. You twitched under his touch. Small, needy gasps leaving your parted lips.

He hummed with pleasure, tasting you across your jaw, chest pressed against your back.

“So good to me,” He kissed your cheek. The blisters on his fingers against the soft skin of your breasts making his touch so incredibly erotic, it had you weeping in your core. His touches so subtle, and yet you were reacting to him so desperately. Craving him, overwhelmed by how fucking good it felt when he touched you.

“Please” You weren’t even sure what you were asking for. He chuckled softly, teeth grazing against your ear. “Jimin p-please”

“I love that. I love it when you ask me so nicely like that” He pushed you down on all fours. You let out a surprised gasp at his sudden roughness, but your cunt tightened. He pulled off your jeans, and then his own. Leaving your panties on he grabbed a handful of your ass and squeezed it.

“So fucking perfect,” His large hands moved all over the flesh of your thighs. He let two fingers tease along your damp slit. “What’s this huh? Wet for me already baby?”

His fingers pushed the cloth aside, finding your tender clit. You bit back a moan as he began to trace small, slow circles. He leaned down on you, the feeling of skin on skin riling you up even further. His lips caressed the back of your shoulders with hums of approval as his fingers continued to coax you. His other hand holding your hip steady. Pinching your ass tenderly.

“Jimin” You gasped breathlessly, fingers gripping the couch tight. His fingers continued to push you further and further towards nirvana. He pulled you up suddenly, fingers still on your clit—but he needed to see you. Needed to look into your eyes as you came. Hand wrapped around your neck, enough to feel his control but not enough to choke you.

“You gonna cum for me doctor?” Jimin teased, forcing your jaw towards him. A grin on his lips mirrored the mischievous glint in his eyes. You nodded pathetically.

“Yeah?” His tone raised, taunting you further as he smashed his lips back on yours. Tongue pushing through your lips as his fingers circled your clit faster. Your moans were swallowed by him—body going limp as waves of pleasure crashed down on you. Your body bucking forward, taking Jimin down with you. Twitching all over as your cunt leaked onto his hand. His rough, desperate kisses muffling your screams.

“That’s it baby, so good for me” His fingers led you through the aftershocks before dipping into your sensitive cunt. “So good and wet all for me, right?”

He pulled himself off of you, and you turned, on your knees—reaching for his cock.

“I want to suck your cock”

Jimin blinked at you incredulously.

But you were determined. You began to stroke him gently. He hissed, reaching behind you to steady himself against the back of the couch.

“You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you baby?” He leaned down to kiss you cheek. You looked up at him, eyes earnest—because you wanted him to feel so good.

You wanted to make up for all the pain you knew you were about to cause him. He deserved everything—heaven and the stars and everything beyond, you wanted him to have it all. For now, you let your lips kiss the flushed tip of his cock.

“F-fuck,” He reached for your chin, stroking your jaw tenderly. “You’re so good to me baby fuck”

“I,” You diverted your eyes with shame as heat crawled over your cheeks. “Tell me what to do”

Jimin gulped, eyes shifting as he understood your words.

“Open wide” He pushed two fingers against your lips until your mouth opened enough for him to slide them inside. “No teeth okay baby—and then just take it in as far—” He pushed his fingers down your throat. You tried your best not to gag, until finally you couldn’t help it. He pulled his fingers out, a string of saliva following. “As you can”

His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, tugging on it playfully as he cooed at you. It was the eagerness in your eyes. The fierce determination he knew you were feeling to please him.

“You’re so” He chuckled softly, “God I—” He choked on his words.

Now was hardly the time.

You beamed at him, taking his cock into your mouth little by little. His head tilted back as he cursed to himself.

You loved seeing him like this—amazed that you could make him feel like this. Motivated by his response, you began to slowly bob your head. He exhaled verbally, letting out a loud groan.

“Just like that baby, fuck—good girl” His voice was pained as if he was losing his resolve and it only fueled you to move faster. He tugged your hair, giving you a warning stare. “If you do that I’m gonna cum baby. Slow down”

You gave him a mischievous look, deciding to disobey.

“Y/n” His voice was low, demanding. He recognized you were teasing him, and as much as he wanted to fuck you—he couldn’t bring himself to stop you. His thumb swiped at the drool from the edge of your lips. A shock rippled through his body as he reached for your shoulder to keep him steady.

“Fuck. Fuck. Baby I’m—” His hips bucked, cock twitching inside your mouth as you felt his warm cum on your tongue. You let him go, swallowing his cum—and before you could even process it, he lifted you up, forcing your legs around his waist and carried you to your bedroom.

He laid you down on the covers gently, kissing the inside of your thighs, all the way up your stomach, where he showed you a little extra love, up to your breasts—he nibbled on them playfully, loving the way you’d twitch for him. His eyes stayed glued to yours. Dark and needy.

“I’m gonna need a little bit” Jimin confessed after deciding your breasts had been abused enough by his mouth. For now. He let his fingers continue to toy with them as he hovered over you. “But we should talk, hm?”

You inhaled sharply.

“Y-yeah we should”

Jimin grinned, taking a peak back into his mouth, this time letting his tongue run rampant on the plushness.

“Jimin” You hissed, grabbing his hair.

“You taste so good baby, I can’t help it” He kept on kissing your chest. Rolling onto his side, he pulled you into his embrace. Your naked bodies intertwined as his hands roamed all over you. You cradled his head against you, fingers running through his silky black hair.

You whimpered, hopelessly aroused by his actions. Your pussy pulsing, wishing so badly to be stuffed.

“I need you” You nudged him. “I need you so bad”

Jimin grinned, pulling away from you. He kissed you softly.

Then his eyes grew serious.

“Y/n” His tone had changed. He wasn’t teasing anymore. “If I asked you to just let it go,”

“You know I can’t” You responded. Jimin looked away. His fingers still tracing your sides.

“Yeah” He said after some time, kissing your cheek, “I know”

You gulped, cupping his face in your hands. “Can I just say that, right now, in this moment, based on every experience I’ve had in my life up to this point—I love you?”

Jimin scoffed, but he couldn’t hide the smile in his eyes.

“I just need to know”

“If there’s someone else, you mean.” Jimin gave you a pointed look. “What happens then, doctor?”

“If someone else is my soulmate, that also means someone else is yours. I can’t keep you from that”

“I know I don’t want that” Jimin gripped your hips possessively, pulling you impossibly closer. “I don’t care. I love you”

A tear rolled down your cheek. The hurt that you so blissfully ignored moments before, returning.

“I’ll meet Dr. Kim Namjoon at the conference in a few days. He can check for us, and then”

“You already know though, don’t you?” Jimin challenged. “You think we aren’t compatible”

You paused. “Well I—”

“Go ahead, doctor” Jimin smiled, a hint of despair in his gaze, “Go meet your soulmate. No one in this universe will love you the way I do, I am sure of it. So sure that I’ll take the chance of losing you forever if it means you’ll believe me one day”

He began to get emotional. You ached for him. Ached for the pain he felt in his chest. The pain you didn’t want him to feel.

Your hand rested on his chest. Feeling the beat of his heart against the tense silence.

He kissed you again. Desperately. His fingers tugging your panties aside as his now hard cock slid against your folds.

You kissed him back—even more desperately. Savoring whatever you had left with him. Losing yourself in him as though time were running out. Spreading your thighs to grant him entrance, he fucked into effortlessly. Filling you up until you felt so right—so whole. He stilled, nose tracing yours as he gazed into your eyes.

Tears threatened the edges of his pretty brown eyes.

“I don’t trust them Y/n” He whispered, the tear unleashing, “What if they brainwash you—what if seeing your soulmate resets your brain chip and—” He gasped, lip trembling.

“I won’t forget you, Jimin” You assured him with a comforting hand stroking his back.

“You don’t know that” Jimin gulped.

The true fear in his eyes hit you like a reality check. Reminding you that this man had no trust in the system, and you were asking him to take a gamble on it.

“Maybe you’re not supposed to know about the Placebo. Maybe they’ll do something to you, and me—and you’ll be in danger and I won’t know”

You kissed him sweetly. “Baby” You mumbled, knowing you’d never called him that— “Don’t think like that”

“I mean the fact that we fell in love, without the compatibility assessment, means the whole system is bullshit—doesn’t it? They could pick any two people and condition them to love one another with the chip. That’s not something they’d be okay with people knowing”

“N-not necessarily” You sighed. “Baby—move” You urged him, as if he forgot his cock was nestled deep inside of you. He hadn’t.

He gave you a tight thrust. Your lips parted, and he did it again, watching your expression intently. He held you close—you held him close. He buried his face into your neck, pushing you onto your back so he could fuck you deeper. His hips slammed against yours, deep, quick thrusts that you could feel throughout every inch of your body.

“You’re heaven” Jimin gasped, kissing your cheek again, “I don’t think you fucking understand what I feel for you, doctor—I swear I”

“I do, Jimin” You assured him, “I feel it” He began fucking you faster. “And I love you”

He stilled so he could kiss you again. “Say it again” He begged, “Please. Say it, mean it, please”

“I love you” You stared into his starry eyes. His fingers intertwined with yours, pushing your arms above your head as he resumed his ruthless pace. His lips pasting against yours in between your confession, “I love you Jimin—I do—So much”

He burst inside you, but he couldn’t stop. The moment was too charged, too emotionally ripe. He kept himself sheathed inside of you, cum stuffed deep. Hugging you close, he kissed you—a man addicted, and you were his vice.

You fell asleep, at some point.

You heard him whisper against your eyelids—I won’t give up, at some point.

You woke up, at some point.

He was gone.

You—

You arrived at the conference. You hadn’t heard from Jimin since that night—but preparation kept you distracted. This was a huge moment for your career—and you’d worked too hard to fall short now.

Jungkook was by your side, dressed in a light grey suit—the conference badge contrasting the plain white button-down shirt that gripped his chiseled chest. Around you were folks of similar adornment—chatting with their colleagues, setting up posters and grabbing coffee.  

“Good—you made it” Your boss, Jung Hoseok, who you loathed approached the both of you. “Is everything set up for my talk later?”

You exchanged an irritated look with Jungkook, who bit back a smile. “Yes, sir”

Dr. Jung hummed, pleased with your response. “Very well. Go network. This conference has the best of the best. Y/n, I know you were interested in meeting Dr. Kim, would you like me to make an introduction?”

You stiffened. Dr. Kim Namjoon. He was the most brilliant biochemist of your time. He single-handedly piloted the Soulmate initiative with the help of his neuro-engineering team. He developed the compatibility algorithm that you spent your whole life studying. Appreciating.

He was infamous. And it didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous too—you had all of his books, memoirs, magazine articles. It was safe to say you knew quite a bit about the man. And soon he’d be right in front of you. In the flesh.

“If you don’t mind” You held back your excitement, but your hand trembled, gripping onto the pamphlet that a volunteer had forced into your hold earlier. Dr. Jung nodded, motioning for you to follow him.

“I’ll come too, if that’s okay” Jungkook quipped. You made a face, but knew you had no right to take this opportunity from him either, as much as you preferred to meet him alone to discuss your dilemma.

Up the elevator, Dr. Jung led the both of you to the top floor of the hotel in which the conference was taking place. From the clear glass, you could see the city sprawled out—serene, snow beginning to melt off of the ground. More folks were out and about. Children playing in the now cleared-up parks. Spring was coming, soon.

You stepped out of the elevator, and were met with a series of guards lining the hallway. It made sense; you mused. Kim Namjoon was a high-ranked State scientist. Which meant he was a prime target for a Resistance kidnapping or attack.

Your lips wavered. A part of you was disappointed at the lack of hope you had that you’d find out you and Jimin were compatible. Your gut knew you weren’t. But you loved him, so it could be. It could be him, right?

Why did you love him, if you weren’t compatible? It was so easy to think of all the reasons—so simple in your mind, but hard to find the words. You trusted him with your life. He was attractive, kind, in a bad situation but had big dreams. Dreams to make change, and you admired that.

As you walked past the guards, Jungkook’s hand brushed against yours. You looked his way and he winked at you excitedly. “You ready?”

He whispered against your neck. Too close—maybe it hadn’t been before, but now it felt too close. Nevertheless, you smiled back at him and nodded.

It occurred to you that Jungkook might be your real soulmate.

“Namjoon!” Dr. Jung opened the double doors to the suite. You took the room in. Hardly a room—there was a whole lab set up in there. Humming with the soft whirr of state-of-the-art machinery, bright white lights everywhere. Translucent monitors display complex molecular structures and neural pathways. Simulations.

The middle of the room had a holographic interface projected a three-dimensional model of a chip. The chip. Tiny filaments extended from the chip, resembling delicate neurons connecting to an unseen network.

Your heart skipped a beat. This was paradise.

There was not a drop of chemicals in this lab. Everything was tech-based, simulation and modeling predicting chemical interactions, hormonal regulation, neural response and bodily action.

“Hey Hobi” You heard a low, smooth voice. Your clenched your fingers into your palm. Taking a deep breath, you turned the corner where Dr. Kim was sitting.

God.

He sat casually on a stool set up by a plain workstation. He was dressed in a black turtleneck, black trousers—his black hair gelled up. You’d neve seen him without a white-coat on, as that’s how he tended to appear in media pictures. Here, in front of you now, he was relaxed. He was just a person. He was a man.

His dimpled smile made your throat tighten. A smile that reached his eyes with such a genuine glimmer. He greeted Dr. Jung with a suave fistbump, exchanging some words with him before chuckling lightly, patting him on the back and swiveling his chair towards you and Jungkook.

His smile widened.

“Hey there” He nodded his head politely. Both you and Jungkook bowed slightly. “So you’re the poor kids who got looped into helping this motherfucker” Your eyes widened at his comment, but Dr. Jung simply rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah—I’ll see you downstairs. Drinks tonight? The usual?” Dr. Jung pointed at him for confirmation as he reached the door. Namjoon nodded.

“Of course Hobi, I’ll see you later” He redirected his full attention to the both of you, shutting the computer in front of him. “Please, take a seat” He motioned behind him and a small robot pushed two stools over to where you were standing.

“I’m Y/n L/n” You extended your hand to him.

“Ah yes, I’ve heard about you. You study my work, huh?” He winked, making your face rush with heat. His eyes passed over to Jungkook. “And you?”

“Jeon Jungkook, honored to be here, sir”

“Good. Good, so tell me about yourselves”

“Actually” You exhaled. “Dr. Kim, if you don’t mind—there’s a matter I’d like to discuss with you”

He raised his eyebrows. Folding his arms over his strong chest in a way that made you aware that this man worked out, he leaned back. “Oh, sure. Let’s hear it then”

You were about to speak when Jungkook interrupted.

“Y/n’s soulmate was a placebo. We’d like to run the compatibility test to find out who her real soulmate is”

Your mouth felt dry. Namjoon’s eyes flashed with interest, gaze remaining steady on you.

“How’d you figure it out?”

You looked at Jungkook.

“I uh, hacked some data” Jungkook confessed, shyly.

Namjoon let out a soft laugh.

“Well alright. As you know, any scientific RCT trial needs a control group. We use these placebos to understand the actual effect of the Soulmate algorithm’s deployment on the outcomes of interest. Procreation, individual health and wellness, etc.”

He was speaking to you. Directly to you, even though Jungkook was right by your side.

“The way the chip works is that you see someone who surpasses your compatibility threshold. There isn’t one soulmate. I suppose there could be, but we have to factor in proximity and chance for encounter. That’s why the microchip will only give the Soulmate signal once you meet someone who has also passed the cognitive-sexual threshold who surpasses your compatibility level. Another threshold, unique to each person and defined by many metrics”

It was nothing you didn’t know. Jungkook on the other hand, was fascinated.

“Wait so, both and Y/n and I were past out cognitive-sexual threshold and we saw each other all the time before she met…her placebo. I didn’t meet her compatibility threshold?”

Namjoon seemed to bit back a giggle. “Well, Jungkook? Is it? Right, it goes both ways. She didn’t meet yours either” His eyes flashed at you. You couldn’t help but notice that they were honey-brown, almost gleaming gold in the light.

Jungkook seemed to recede into himself.

“Is there a way I can check my compatibility with my placebo soulmate?” You asked, tugging at your sleeves.

“Well, I suppose” Namjoon took a second to think, “If you know where they are right now, and get to them without looking too many people in the eye” He chuckled.

Right, you mused.

“Because if you reset my chip, and I see someone else, it’ll register they’re my soulmate before I can even look Jimin in the eye” You mumbled.

“Exactly. We can do that, if you’d like. But no law says you must be romantically involved with your soulmate. Either way, your choice is still your own”

You gulped. You just had to know.

“Please, if it’s alright, can you reset my chip?” The words felt like acid leaving your mouth. Namjoon shrugged nonchalantly.

“Sure thing. Jungkook—this is a medical procedure, technically. We will need some privacy”

“Oh, right” Jungkook scrambled to his feet, rushing out the door rather quickly. Namjoon reached for a tablet set near the window and tapped a few buttons. Some robots arrived, removing the table and stools and setting up a medical bed in it’s place.

“Do you not like your placebo soulmate?” Namjoon asked, while the robots were at work.

“Actually I like him a lot.” You confessed. “But I believe so strongly in the benefits of your algorithm. So I just need to know for sure”

Namjoon squinted at you, but nodded.

“Do most placebos work out?” You blurted, covering your stomach with your crossed arms. “Is there a statistically significant difference between outcomes with truly compatible soulmates and placebo ones?”

A grin tugged at Namjoon’s lips. The robots finished setting up the medical equipment and he motioned for you to lie down.

“What do you think, Y/n?” Namjoon mused as he connected a few wires to the back of your neck. “Do you think placebos would work out the same way? Is believing someone is your true love enough to make you love them?”

You gulped. His fingers brushed against your nape as he plugged in your chip. 

Until it hit you.

“It doesn’t matter” The thoughts came to you as the words left your mouth, “It isn’t even about love. Compatibility. Or health.” Your eyes quivered as you noticed Namjoon’s grin widening.

“I-It’s about your faith in the State” You drawled, “If you believe in the State—in the Soulmate Initiative, then it’ll work. And if you don’t—”

You sat upright suddenly, feeling uneasy. Jimin’s fears echoing in the back of your mind.

“Don’t worry—you did fall in love. You clearly believe, so you have nothing to worry about.” Namjoon admired you for a moment. “You’re very smart, Miss. Y/n. It’s a shame it took us until now to meet”

Namjoon proceeded to tap a few more things on his tablet.

“Now before we do this, you should know. There is a small chance the reset will cause both you and your placebo soulmate to forget that you’ve seen each other. Not to worry, though, I can make sure that you head his way after the procedure to see if you two are compatible”

You gripped the edges of the seat with your trembling fingers.

“But don’t worry, you’ll be unharmed”

Forgetting Jimin—that’s harm. That’s fucking harm. Your mind was screaming warning.

“Wait actually I don’t—”

“Relax,” Namjoon placed a hand gently on your shoulder, pushing you back to your chair. “I’m here. I’ll tell you to go find this fella and look him straight in the eye before anyone else. You can trust me”

Strangely enough, you believed him.

“Okay”

“What’s his name?”

You hesitated. Drawing attention to Jimin’s citizen file wasn’t a smart idea given what you knew about him.

“P-park Jimin”

“Good. Now close your eyes. This might give you a brief migraine”

Jimin—

It had been pathetic. Jimin showed up at the steps of Jin’s home—the home he shared with a few other members of the resistance. It was late—he could hear the debauchery happening inside loud and clear. The familiar stench of tobacco and liquor radiated from the dim light behind the shuttered windows.

He inhaled sharply. He spent the whole day wandering. Trying to drown himself in schoolwork until even that seemed pointless. He needed a distraction. Something to ease the pain. Until he figured out how the hell he would get you back. He needed anything.

He sat down on the splintered porch steps, ignoring the fleet of giggles from what he assumed were sex workers. Staring at his palms, he recalled the sensation of your touch. His fingers curled into his palm, wishing your hand was there but instead grasping at the crisp late winter air.

“Well look here,” Jin’s familiar voice boomed from the entryway. Jimin looked back to see him, a flimsy tank top under his leather jacket which was being pulled off by a beautiful, voluptuous woman. “Ay, fuck off whore—that’s my little brother and oh,” Jin pouted, shoving the woman off of him, “He looks so sad” Jin leaned down to tug Jimin’s cheeks in a way he always used to do when Jimin was younger.

“Why you sad baby boy?” The woman cooed, “If you’d like, I can make it all better”

Jimin rolled his eyes, “No, thank you.” Redirecting his attention to Jin who slid down to sit by his side, a bottle of beer in his hand— “God, doesn’t it ever get a bit old hyung?”

Jin scoffed, “I’ve had about enough of you sitting on your high horse and judging us, Jimin. You are one of us. We’re at war. Well—” He took a sip, “We will be, soon enough, and we need you. Your brother was—”

Jimin hissed. Jin took the hint, luckily.

“Look,” His tone grew serious, “We had one of our mole’s hack into the microchip database. We were right. The kind of data they collect and the way they use it to strategically puppet aspects of our society—it’s robbing free will. Altering memories. Manipulating thought through exposure and environment. And because there’s not specific legislature that oppresses people, they play it off as the way the world works. No. They built these structures, Jimin-ah. We have proof.”

Jimin gazed up at the obscured night sky. Clouds veiled any semblance of starlight, mirroring the shadow over his thoughts.

“She isn’t even really my soulmate” Jimin chuckled bitterly. “It was a fucking placebo”

Jin stared at him for a moment, before his eyes softened with pity. “Fuck Jimin,” He handed him the bottle. Jimin took it, sipping the sour & bitter liquid. “You really like the bitch, huh?”

“Hyung” Jimin snapped. Jin simply chuckled.

“My bad, my bad. The scientist. Whatever the fuck her name is. Listen. If you want to know if your feelings are genuine or not, you need to take out your microchip. It’s the only way you’d know for sure. The fact that there is a placebo cohort for something like this is kinda fucked up. Whatever happened to ethics?” Jin scoffed. Jimin took another swig of the beer.

Should he? Should he take it out? The microchip was the physical embodiment of the state's reach into his very soul.

Jin could sense that Jimin was considering his idea.

“Honestly, it’s about damn time you did Jimin. Things are getting serious around here. We’re going to start taking real action, advocating for our cause. We want you in—we’ve always known you’re a smart kid. Good with words and all that. Hell, you’re not meant for the battlefield Jimin. You’re meant for a throne”

Jimin set the bottle down, again looking up to the skies. “I don’t want a throne. I just want to not be a fucking puppet anymore. For them, or for you guys”

“Then take what’s yours. This is what your brother wanted, Jimin. Be more involved. Take charge. Your girl didn’t give up on you—the state fucking manipulated her to give up on you. They took everything from you—it’s damn time you see that. It’s damn time you fight for what you deserve”

Fight. He was going to fight for you. He had promised you that. Promised himself that.

He reached for the back of his neck.

“Fuck the State” He mumbled, “I want this out. Let’s go”

Jin grinned ear to ear, “Fuck yeah!” He patted Jimin on the ack excitedly. “We’ve got a bot that can do it in the back, come on”

You—

“Y/n?” The soft call echoed in the sterile room. Your eyes, weighed down by the fog of unconsciousness, fluttered open. The harsh fluorescent lights above you forced a squint. A lingering scent of antiseptic filled the air, accompanied by the gentle hum of machines.

Behind you, a subtle tug and disconnect confirmed the unplugging of your chip from the machine. The cool room air kissed your skin, sending a shiver of unease through you.

“Good, your vitals are all normal. You’re doing great,” Namjoon's voice reassured. Turning, you saw his back as he typed notes on his laptop.

It came back to you: where you were. Who you were. Everything seemed to click. Your heart seemed to hurt. You couldn’t understand why.

“Do you remember Park Jimin?” Namjoon asked. You blinked in his direction.

“Who?” Your response was automatic, a clouded memory of someone fading into obscurity. The emptiness inside of you seemed to pulse.

Namjoon continued typing, his focus on the screen. “There’s a man,” he hummed, “I need you to go directly to him and look him in the eye to see if he is your soulmate or not. His file suggests he may be at the University Law Library. Try to minimize eye contact with strangers as you head there.” Namjoon turned back around.

You looked at him.

In those honey eyes. Those sweet, smiling, kind eyes.

A sharp pain in your neck burned.

They say you’ll just know.

­come scream in my asks! thanks for reading you hotties~ lmk what you think &lt;3

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

[pampushky]

Foot of The Gallows

trafalgar d. water law/reader - friends to enemies to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, manipulation (not by law)

ao3 link | masterlist | ask away

Trafalgar D. Water Law is a surgeon centuries ahead of his time and is set to be put to death for alleged witchcraft and dark magic, although there’s little evidence besides the fact that his patients all seem to survive, and the pale white splotches that dapple his skin, marking his face with the pattern of a skull. You’re a former childhood friend, now bittered with age and arguments, simply trying to make your living as an apothecary, wanting nothing to do with the man you had once been joined at the hip with. What happens when his closest friend manages to convince you to save his life by invoking a little-used law, saved only for cases where the justice system has failed?

You marry the man you utterly detest, that’s what happens.

Chapter Directory

sunshroom

thunder root

numbing nettle

snowdrop iris

lion's bane

willow tears

[seagullcharmer]

not gonna elaborate

[motthe]

I was just rereading the house call the other day so I'm super stoked you're doing Arcane fics again! I adore the lumen au SO much. May I request academic rivals lumen au with Viktor? Him and reader both being incredible academics competing for the same position, but up til now haven't met in person and don't realize it's their soulmate they're trying to beat. However short/long you want and whatever format you prefer!

I hope you don't mind, I did fem!reader for this drabble. If not I can go back over it, no problem!

Professor Heimerdinger did his best to not show favoritism amongst his students. Each and every one of them had a grand mind, reaching aspirations, and a passion to learn. They were the stars to his sky and he would not trade anything for a single one.

But there were those who earned their place in the elite, guiding those with their brilliance onto a path of achievement some might fail to find. Heimerdinger did not make it any easier on them in their greatness, if anything he asked for more. And now with it being time for a new assistant he was having a hard time choosing from his collection of constellations. 

“I’ve finally narrowed it down to two of you,” he said to Viktor, taking a moment to sip his tea. “You’ve shown marvelous progress this semester as you have for all the others—a constant, you are, my boy!”

Viktor swirled the amber liquid around in his cup. He had known what the meeting was about as soon as Heimerdinger had invited him to his office. It left his stomach in knots. 

A softness grazed his ear, adding pressure as it traveled under his jaw. He allowed himself a small moment to bask in the touch before he raised his hand to gather your light and bring it down to sit on his leg. 

Lumens all had their shows of affection, always doing their best to help when they sensed stress. You preferred to pull him out of his head by taking up his attention. From running through his hair and making a mess of it to nudging his cheek, you would do anything to get his eyes on you. Right now, he couldn’t have you distracting him, so he kept a hand over you, biting back a smile as you wiggled against his palm. 

“And the other student you are ruminating on?” he asked.

“Hm?” The wise yordle’s ears perked up as he swallowed another sip of tea. “Oh, no need to worry about that. The point of this meeting is to gauge your overall interest in the job at hand.”

“Consider me interested, Professor.” Viktor set his porcelain cup down, leaning back to meet his gaze. “Is there to be a contest? A, eh, battle of the wits?”

“By the spirits, no!” chuckled Heimerdinger. “I would never pin you against one another like that. The last thing I need is having two of my best students at each other’s throats!”

“And, yet, you seem…concerned about me knowing of the other candidate.” Viktor raised an eyebrow as his professor coughed, turning in his chair and hopping down. The young man grabbed his cane and stood as Heimerdinger approached. 

As soon as he raised his hand from you, your bright form went twirling up into the air. He blew a short breath at you as you tried to hover in front of him, clearly irritated if your budding red color was any indication. You bounced against his nose in retaliation, floating down to sit on his shoulder.

“I only mean to keep the mystery alive, my boy! There are many times in life we are faced with the unknown and must navigate blind.” He slowed his pace to remain by Viktor’s side as the two made for the door. “By the end of the week, I will have come up with something suitable to decide which of you will become my assistant, but for now, I ask you to think on it and be sure the job is something you truly want for yourself.”

“Of course, Professor,” said Viktor as he stepped through the doorway, cane clicking against the ground. 

“Spectacular! Now off with you! I know finals are right around the corner for you two.” Heimerdinger waved before shutting the door, leaving Viktor out in the hall with an inkling he was not too fond of.

As he began his walk to the library, he noticed your stillness on his shoulder and grinned to himself.

“Pouting, are we?” he hummed. A flash of crimson light had him glancing over, but the majority of you was still a soft yellow. It made him chuckle.

Entering the library, he went straight to the front desk, nodding to the librarian as she looked up from her paperwork. 

“Hello, Viktor, anything I can help with?” she asked.

“Just a pickup. I sent the requests this morning,” he answered. 

“Let me check the cart.” Pushing her chair out from the desk, a purple lumen rolled off the counter to follow her as she went to the back office in search of his books. He waited by patiently, taking in the peaceful ambiance of turning pages and scribbling pens. 

You nudged at his neck, done with your little strike. He brought his hand up to rub a finger over the top of you, returning the sentiment. The yellow light phased into that lovely pink shade he adored—the sign you were content. 

“Here we are.” He looked up, surprised as the librarian sat down his books. He hadn’t heard her returning. “One of them was already checked out, it seems, but you’ll be the next in line for it as soon as it’s turned in.”

“Many thanks,” he said, gathering the study material against his side before heading off to his dorm. 

There was mail—the scores from last week’s test, no doubt, and a vanilla envelope stamped with that cursed emblem. He rolled his eyes, attempting to prepare himself for what was to come as he unlocked his door. He went straight to his desk to drop off his books and sit. You wandered down his arm and under the lamp as he switched it on, enjoying the warmth of the bulb as he grabbed his letter knife.

As he scanned the parchment he was met with usual sight. His marks were as predicted in his class, but there sitting on the next column over for the professor’s second class of the day, was that same name that shadowed him since his third semester. He opened the second piece of mail with a sigh.

Guess we’re both head to head for the role of Heimerdinger’s assistant. He didn’t want me to know who I’m up against as I’m sure he won’t want you to, but there’s no mistaking his two, brightest candidates.

P.S. Tied again for perfect scores. I hope you’re studying for finals. Don’t want to end up a point shy again, do you?

He tossed the letter into the bin, jaw clenched. You moved from your spot to rub against his hand, back to your color of neutrality. He let out a slow breath.

“I know,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t get so worked up.”

He knew better. Years had passed but his rival had not lost a bit of their flare. He had met his fair share of competitive students as well as bullies, but this one walked a fine line. 

Viktor never bothered to waste energy on such petty pastimes. He recognized her name and had heard it in passing from professors when they spoke of the highest grades. She was always mentioned—a star pupil. In the beginning, he had been curious, but she was a ghost, then. No classes were shared and Viktor was never a social being to begin with, so seeking her out was never a priority. He wouldn’t know her face if he passed her in the hall.

Yet, somehow, she tracked him down enough to send these little notes time and time again. He never replied, but it did not stop her.

He did his best to push her from his mind, burying himself into his classes. When he checked with the library the next day, the book he needed was returned, so he added it to his growing collection on his desk. The week went by quietly.

A knock came at his door.

“One moment,” he called, a tired breath slipping from his chest as he pried himself away from his chair and towards the door. You tussled along the top of his head as he peered through the peephole, humming. It was only went he looked further down he saw a tuft of hair.

“Professor,” he said as the door opened.

“Good evening, Viktor,” said Heimerdinger, holding up an envelope, “I’ve come to deliver my assignment to you and miss—er, to the other student I’m considering for the role of my assistant!”

He leaned against his door jam, managing a tight smile. “You need not keep secrets. I’m more than aware who your other ‘star pupil’ is.”

Heimerdinger sighed, brow furrowing. “Oh, fiddlesticks! I should’ve known you would figure me out. She did, too.”

Viktor would say it was obvious, but he spared the poor man. It wasn’t as if he knew how cumbersome the girl was, needling Viktor any chance she got.

“Well, it makes things a bit easier, I suppose,” Heimerdinger said, holding up the envelope again. “I know your exams are beginning, so I made this as simple as I could. The details of the assignment are within. I looked forward to it, my boy!”

With that, the yordle went on his way, leaving Viktor to slip back into his room and lock his door. Looking down at the parchment in his hand, he squinted as you fell into sight, catching yourself just in time before floating off behind him.

“Were you up there the entire time?” he huffed, raising a hand to fix his hair. 

You twinkled mischievously, back on his desk and in the warmth of his lamp light. 

Shaking his head, he crossed his room and eased down into his desk chair once more. You nudged the letter opener where it sat beside you.

The assignment was as Heimerdinger promised, simple. He wanted a written answer of what being his assistant would mean to him as both a scientist and a person. There was no word limit and he expected it to be turned in to his office by the end of the weekend before classes began.

“I’m assuming he doesn’t want a basic answer,” Viktor mused allowed, eyes slinking back to you. He smiled as you swayed from side to side, the outer layer of your light trailing with the movement. You were a strange combination of green and orange—excited and nervous. Perhaps plans for the weekends? Or maybe you were facing something just as important as he was—a door to the future. 

“Better to start right away,” he breathed, searching his desk. When he couldn’t find his pen, he began closing and stacking the books to open up the space. One must have been teetering on the edge because the next thing he knew there was a mess on the floor.

Accepting the new chore with a roll of his shoulders, he turned and began to tidy up. He paused, though, at the book that lied open. Sitting in the crease of the pages was some sort of bookmark, thin and metallic if the light reflection off of it had any indication. Grasping the edges, he brought the text back to his desk’s surface, holding up the thin item for better observation. There was an intricate design that changed when angled in different ways. It was quite pretty and likely cost more than Viktor would pay to keep tabs in a book. 

Flipping to the start, he looked for the checkout slip attached and slid it from the pocket, roving over the names until he found his. Above it was that cursed name.

“For the love of—” He let out an aggravated scoff, glaring at the bookmark. Of course it would belong to her. With all the letters she sends, she probably doesn’t glance twice at the cost of a stamp or mailing fees. She has money to spare if she buys trinkets like that.

He laid it aside along with the mess of books. When he turned in Heimerdinger’s assignment he’d give the bookmark to him as well. He would get it back to her. 

Come the end of the weekend, Viktor was up bright and early to drop off his explication. The halls were mostly quiet, a few teachers offering a greeting as they went by. The students still recovering from whatever activities they got up to. Viktor didn't have the time. He needed to return the textbooks and check out more for the next exam, also grab some more pens. He was running low.

Turning the corner that was attached to Heimerdinger’s office, Viktor stopped as he spotted a figure by the door. The uniform revealed she was a student, her hair pinned back from her face as she opened the mail slot and tucked an envelope inside. He spotted a lumen in the crook of her elbow, a warm brown against the cream of her coat. 

The metallic clap of the mail slot closing broke him from his observation. When he raised his eyes he found the girl had noticed him, eyes wide before a smirk curled at her lips.

“Well,” she chuckled, “we finally meet.”

“I beg your pardon?” he said, repositioning himself as she turned to face him. 

“Oh, c’mon, Viktor.” She crossed her arms, careful of her lumen as she cupped a hand under it. His chest warmed at the sight. Despite such a devil-may-care attitude, she was soft with it. “Another student here this early, turning something into Professor Heimerdinger? Need I say more?”

“Ah,” he muttered, lips curling just a bit in distaste as he let her name slip.

“Ding, ding, ding,” she sang, chin rising. “I suppose it’s about time we met, being academic rivals and all.”

“You enjoy it a bit too much,” he said, shaking his head as you tumble from his shoulder, slowly floating forward. You’re a bright orange, so very excited. If only he wasn’t dealing with her right now, he’d smile.

“Oh, it’s all in good fun!” She glances at her lumen as it hovers up from her embrace before turning her attention back to him. “You’re always all by your lonesome. I’d thought you’d enjoy some friendly competition.”

“I don’t have time for frivolous games. I thought you might have understood that seeing as I never replied.”

You froze, midair, causing Viktor to realize just how far your light had wandered from him. That sparkling orange had dulled to a grayish blue.

He reached for you, concerned before he noticed his rival’s face beyond you. She was looking at the floor, smugness gone, and the lumen attached to her was now slowly floating up, a foot away from yours.

His breath caught in his throat as it moved higher. He let his hand fall to his side as it nudged against you, sending a bright flash that had him closing his eyes. When he blinked again his rival—you—were staring at the two lumens in shock. The dull color of your lumen had gone milky white.

You both stared at one another, then. 

“I change colors?” you muttered.

He sucked in a breath. “Y-you do, yes.”

“Oh,” you said, rubbing your hands over your sides, “weird.”

“No, it’s, eh,” he stumbled over the correct words, bringing a hand to his neck, “you are honest with your emotions. Very, what do they say, er…”

“I wear my heart on my sleeve?” you said, smiling.

“Yes, that,” he murmured, nodding.

“I get that a lot,” you chuckled. It was nothing like the first one he’d heard from you. This one was much weaker. Sadder.

“I apologize,” he began.

You shook your head. “No, I get how irritating I must’ve been. I should’ve stopped when you never sent a letter back. That’s on me.”

“No, I ,” he sighed, taking a step towards you, the hit of his cane on the floor pulling your eyes to his, “I assumed you were ‘poking the fun’ at me. It wouldn’t have been the first time.”

“No, no I meant it to be friendly, I’m sorry,” you hurried to say, bridging the distance bit by bit. “I would never poke fun at you, Viktor. You’re brilliant. I hold such high respect for you.”

“Oh.” He was blindsided by the joy that came from hearing that, especially from his soulmate. “I, well, thank you…”

“Can we start over?” you asked, smiling nervously as you held up a hand. “I promise I’m much better in person.”

You are perfect, he thought, unsure how fate would bless him with something as beautiful and smart as you. 

[interesting-interludes]

the comforts of creatures (7)

creature comforts:

↳ material/bodily comforts, such as food, warmth, or special accommodations, that contribute to physical ease and well-being

→🚪 pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

→🌿 genre: fantasy!au, soulmate!au, hurt + comfort + recovery, angst with a happy ending, fluff, eventual smut

→🍞 word count: 4.9k

→🍨 summary: as you settle in, jin and namjoon take you for a visit into the city clinic. you just hope you're not too far gone.

→🌾 trigger/content warnings: PTSD (low self-worth, anxiety), medical exam/hospitals, sleep deprivation, pets as coping mechanisms (yeontan will live on in this story 😢), everyone trying their best

→📔 a/n: thank you so much for your patience!! hope you enjoy :)

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part 7: if only you knew

This house is bigger than you thought.

You start in the living room, with the large semicircle of couches and the wraparound windows showing the lush greenery outside. There’s an abundance of houseplants and tall, full bookshelves, with comfy looking chairs to match.

Then they lead you through the hall to the various rooms on the ground floor. There’s the infirmary room where Jin took you when you first arrived, and an open yet warm bathroom with a magnificent tub.

At the back of the house, there’s a room completely full of bookshelves and papers, with a desk and a few plush armchairs.

Then there’s a very large room filled with all sorts of strange objects: jars and beakers of all sizes, racks of dried herbs, cauldrons and vials of shimmering liquid, odd plants that you don’t recognize, leather-bound books scrawled with swirling runes. And connected to that room, a sizable greenhouse with crawling vines clinging to the walls.

It’s all so overwhelming, you can’t process all of it.

They lead you up the wide, curling staircase in the main room, and down the long hallway to a number of bedrooms. They all look completely different. One is warm, cozy, and cluttered, while another is sleek and modern and clean.

There’s a room painted all green and gold, plants crowding the space like a small jungle. And a bedroom at the end of the hall that’s almost as large as the living room. There’s a number of bathrooms, all as different as the bedrooms, and a sizable home gym.

They all hesitate at one room, though. It’s near the end of the hall, the door closed. They look at each other, expressions unreadable, and skip over it.

Jin has told you that you’re welcome in all the rooms, but you take it that you’re not allowed in that one.

You already know that you’re going to get lost here, barely remembering what each room looks like let alone where it is. But you doubt that you’ll be here long enough for it to matter.

They tell you that they have a number of pets, and they ask if you want to meet any of them.

Hesitant, all you do is nod, not sure what else to respond with.

It earns a smile from all of them, even Taehyung.

Back in the living room, Jimin leaves briefly and returns with a ginger cat in his arms. Tail swishing, the cat perches in the crook of his elbow as its amber eyes scan the room. Its nose twitches, face upturned to sniff the air.

Then its eyes land on you, and the cat jumps out of Jimin’s arms and scurries across the room.

The men blurt out a handful of warnings, either to the cat or you, it’s hard to tell. But the next second the cat is jumping up your leg and clinging to your chest.

There’s the pinprick of its claws, but you hardly notice it. Because some instinct makes your arms curl protectively around the animal. The rumbling of its purring reverberates through your chest. The cat nuzzles into your neck, paws clinging to the sleeves of your sweater.

A strange feeling floods your brain. Warm and tingly, it makes something burn behind your eyes.

You nuzzle into the cat's soft fur with only the slightest hesitation. Something nags at the edge of your mind, something that you can't grasp no matter how hard you try.

Jimin appears at your side, a near-blinding smile across his stunning face.

"His name is Fish Sticks," he says with a slight chuckle, scratching behind the cat's ears.

You’re fairly certain you would die for Fish Sticks.

The cat doesn’t let go. The rumble of his purring is the most soothing sound you’ve heard in a while.

The men exchange a few words, but you miss them, too focused on the cat and the pleasant feeling that its presence produces. It's almost like this little creature is a beacon of warmth, radiating throughout your entire being.

All of a sudden, you get the sense that one of the men is addressing you, judging from the silence in the air.

A quiet, hesitant noise comes out of your throat, a sound that's questioning and apologetic.

But the man called Namjoon just smiles in response.

"I said that our next step is probably a comprehensive exam at the clinic. Is that alright with you?"

His voice is nothing but calm, eyes watching you with a seemingly infinite amount of patience.

"Joon, she might want to take it easy for a few days," the thin dark-haired man says, you think his name is Hoseok.

"Yeah, there are still a lot of things to get used to," Jimin supplies helpfully, sending you a concerned glance.

You turn to Jin, unsure of what to do next.

"It's entirely up to you, love. Whatever you're the most comfortable with," he says, and his eyes look like pools of honey.

The cat seems to have calmed you significantly, because you look around the room and meet most of their eyes, trying to assess their expressions. They're all a mixture of tension, concern, friendliness, and some unknown emotion that you can't pin down.

"Exam?" you say to no one in particular, an uncertain question hanging in the air.

"Yes, it would just be a standard checkup at my main office. And then a few basic tests, just to see where you're at. I would facilitate everything, and you won't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with," Jin says.

"So, it would..." you start, trailing off.

"It would see if we can possibly restore some of your memories," Namjoon finishes.

You don't know how to feel about that. Memory has become a very strange thing. You don't have many, and you're not sure how many you want to regain.

Another look around the room. Jimin has that same warm, calm expression on his face. You don't know why, but you trust him. The muscular one, Jungkook, is watching you with those wide brown eyes, his face a complete contrast from the rest of his body. Hoseok and Yoongi have stern expressions, but when your gaze meets theirs, it softens. And Jin and Namjoon are waiting patiently for your answer.

These men have show you more kindness that you've ever known. The least you can do is speed up the healing process so you can get out of their hair.

You look at Jin and nod. He smiles and nods back.

You sit in the living room as they all make preparations to go into town. The cat shifts out of your arms but lingers at your side, nuzzling against you every so often.

Jin and Namjoon came to breakfast dressed in suits, looking ready to leave for work. Now they shuffle in and out of the room, packing papers and books into leather cases. The rest of the men disappear into the kitchen or down the hallway.

A few moments later, Yoongi approaches you with a pile of clothing in his arms.

"It's cold outside, you should bundle up," he says, sounding a little shy in spite of himself. He helps you shrug on a wool cardigan and then a rainproof jacket on top, given the dark clouds outside.

He sets down some thick socks and a pair of fur-lined boots by your feet, and he drops to his knees just as you're reaching for them.

Taken aback, you freeze as he gently takes your right foot and slips the sock on, then the left, then the boots.

You're almost too stunned to move, completely shocked by the act of humble kindness. In the facility, some of the guards used to force you to lick the underside of their boots, and now this man, who is almost too beautiful to look at directly, is touching your feet.

He even ties the laces for you, looking up at you with a quiet smile after he's done.

A few moments later, Jungkook approaches and hands you a colorful handheld bag.

"It's a bit of a long drive, so we packed you some snacks in case you get hungry," he says.

Again, you're stunned into silence, the lunch pack hanging limp in your hand.

You mutter out a "thank you." It comes out squeaky.

Jin slings his leather bag over his shoulder and runs a hand through his hair.

"Alright, we're all set. Ready to go?" he asks, holding out a hand.

You swallow down the fear that comes with a new environment, nodding as you take his hand. He rewards you with a radiant grin, leading you to the door.

Just before you reach the front entrance, a voice breaks through the silence.

"You'll come back, right?"

Turning around, you don't realize that it was Taehyung who said it until you meet his strangely desperate expression from across the room. And you realize that he's speaking to you directly.

Something seizes in your chest when you see the urgency in his face, the hidden sadness in his eyes. It makes you want to reassure him.

"Yes," you reply, and this time your voice comes out strong.

It seems to soothe him, for some reason, because his shoulders visibly relax and something unspoken passes between the two of you.

"We won't be gone too long," Namjoon says to the rest of them, opening the front door and letting in a gust of chill air.

The front door is massive, yet it swings open easily. A stonework pathway extends beyond it, winding under a wooden trellis draped with vines.

Entering into the yard, you realize that this is the first time you've been outside since...longer than you can remember. The two men lead you down the walkway to a driveway lined with a handful of vehicles ranging in size.

Jin opens the backdoor to a sleek black car, gesturing you inside. You slip into the backseat as Jin slips into the driver's seat and Namjoon in the passenger's side.

Jin starts the car and pulls out of the driveway, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on Namjoon's knee. The few pale rays of sunlight peeking through the thick cloud cover catches on his watch.

The car weaves through a twisting road downhill, lined with lush trees that create a dark green canopy overhead.

"I'm sure you have questions," Jin says, expertly navigating the vehicle down the steep road in the rainy weather. "Feel free to ask away."

You do have questions, a million of them, but you're not sure where to start. Your curiosity snags on their professional clothes.

“What do you do?” you ask hesitantly, hoping it isn’t too invasive of a question. Little did you know, they would let you live inside their brains like a parasite if you asked.

“I’m a trauma specialist,” Jin answers humbly, as if being a doctor is commonplace. “And Namjoon teaches at Duchanne University. He's working on his second book now, too."

He throws a proud glance in Namjoon's direction, and the other man rolls his eyes with a shy smile that you never could've pictured on his face.

The car is approaching the mountainside, with all its moss-covered rocks and lush trees hanging overhead, and the three of you plunge into a tunnel carved into the dark rock.

There's a few moments of darkness, and then a strange tingling sensation through your entire body. You wouldn't be surprised to find that this cave was laced with magic.

Then, you're emerging from the tunnel with a burst of pale light. Fog rolls over the hills in thick blankets, and you can see the road winding down the mountain.

In one way, it reassures you that this is a safe place, protected by the magic in the caves and the privacy of the forest. In another way, it would make it a lot harder if you ever needed to flee on foot.

"Where are we going?" you ask.

"To a clinic in Burkwood, it's the closest city. If there's anything else you want, we can pick it up there too," Jin says, smiling at you through the rearview mirror.

You can't imagine what else you could possibly want. They've already shown you more kindness and generosity than you've ever known.

The drive proceeds in comfortable silence, the car rocking as it slopes down the winding roads. You have more questions, but you can't seem to think of what to start with. Your body feels heavy, and your eyelids are starting to disobey you.

They mentioned that it was a bit of a long drive, but you are too focused on keeping awake to notice much.

You vaguely register the outskirts of a town that give way to brick streets and old-looking buildings, all enrobed in thick ivy. In fact, the whole area seems to be enveloped in greenery, probably thanks to the frequent rain.

And the rain is picking up now. It makes the sidewalks, littered with fallen leaves, slick with it. Passerbys open up their umbrellas as the lampposts light up to illuminate the foggy landscape.

You're fighting the urge to drift off into sleep as Jin drives on.

Soon, you come to a wide square of cobblestoned streets, lined with grand domed buildings with rich architecture. You can still see people riding their bikes along the rain-slick streets.

Jin pulls over, sneaking a peck on Namjoon's cheek. Namjoon has gathered his bags, his glasses on, and he beams at the gesture.

"See you later, honey," Namjoon says as he glances at both you and Jin, and it's unclear who he's directing the pet name to.

He opens the door and exits with his bag in tow. You watch him walk towards one of the beautiful old buildings and disappear inside.

A short while later, Jin parks the car beside a large sleek white structure, opening the door for you and offering a hand. He stops to look at you before you enter the building.

"There will be a lot of people inside," he begins. "I won't let anyone hurt you. If you want to leave at any point, just let me know, okay?"

You manage a nod.

"Would you like me to hold your hand?" He asks, and this time you shake your head. Because no, that would be pathetic, and you hardly know him.

He justs nods in understanding, offering a small smile before leading you inside.

The smell of disinfectant immediately hits you. Gloves, plastic, metal. Needles. Doctors.

It screams the same thing in your brain: pain is coming.

And Jin was right, there are a lot of people in here. Too many bodies, too many movements and smells.

Before you even realize what you're doing, you've grabbed Jin's hand.

He stops in his tracks, looking at you in shock, and you look almost as shocked as him.

You're about to rip your hand away, but he gives you a comforting squeeze and this time he smiles so warmly his eyes crease.

Somehow, the feel of his skin feels good, despite everything. It grounds you.

The feeling in your chest hitches.

You're able to ignore the countless sights and smells around you with Jin's hand in yours, even as you hear him talking to other people and leading you down hallways.

Probably because the sleep deprivation is making it hard to even keep your eyes open.

You're shuffled through exam rooms, allowing them to check your vitals, answering the questions directed at you, though all you're able to offer is a nod or shake of the head. Jin catches on to it and reframes all questions towards you as ones that can be answered with yes or no.

You're hooked up to electrodes and wires, undergoing multiple scans in different machines.

It makes you wish you were a machine. Things would be much easier that way.

You can see several nurses talking to Jin in hushed tones, glancing in your direction every so often. Jin replies, though you can't hear it, and then the nurses look at you with pure pity in their eyes.

You remember what Jin said earlier. We protect people like us.

Sometime later, after using a considerable amount of your energy to keep from falling asleep standing up, you and Jin are led into a room with x-ray prints all along the walls.

It takes you a long time to realize the scans are of your brain, and that they're talking about you.

The doctor is pointing to different sections of the brain on the scans, but her words are muffled in your ears.

All you can register is the look on Jin's face. It's a mixture of sorrow, pain, and regret.

The only sense you can make of it is to assume that he's disappointed that you won't be out of his hair faster.

Maybe you're too far gone to be fixed. Maybe all the goods part of you died in the facility.

You're silent in the car, staring out at the darkening skies. The clouds have gotten thicker, unleashing a heavy rain. As you return to the old buildings from earlier, people hurry by under their umbrellas.

Namjoon open the passenger door, using his suit jacket as a shield. He greets Jin with a kiss, offering you a smile.

But you don't have the energy or will to even try to mirror it.

As you drive back up the mountainside, trees whizzing past the window wet with rain, you drift in and out of sleep. Jin handles the car so smoothly even through the winding roads, one hand on the wheel with the other resting somewhere on Namjoon.

You don't notice them both sneaking glances at you through the rear-view mirror, glad to see that you're getting some sleep.

When you arrive at the house, the sun is half set. You trudge up the path lined with plants, now lit by outdoor lights, reaching the massive wooden slab that is the front door.

Even in your sluggish state, you can't help but think that you'd like your home to have the same thing, if you had a home. A big sturdy door to keep others out. But this is isn't your home.

Jin and Namjoon lead you inside, and the sound of soft chatter sounds in the distance. You can smell food cooking too.

The house is darker now that the sun has set, lit up by warm ambient lighting from the lamps and elegant light fixtures all around.

You follow Jin and Namjoon into the kitchen area, spotting the bodies crowded inside. The room is bustling with activity, jazz music playing in the background.

Yoongi is standing over the stove, shifting his attention between a great big pot of boiling water, a pan full of bubbling red sauce, and a pan filled with sizzling meatballs. Jimin is chopping lettuce, Taehyung is slicing a loaf of french bread, and Jungkook is shredding cheese.

All of their eyes immediately find yours when you enter the room, Jimin and Yoongi offering a smile, Jungkook and Taehyung looking at you with a hopeful expression.

"Welcome home," Jimin says, eyes crinkling.

It makes a very weird sensation bloom in your lungs. The idea of home is bitter.

Jin and Namjoon set down their coats and briefcases, greeting the others warmly.

You stand there awkwardly, not sure what to do. Yoongi and Jimin pick up on it almost immediately.

"Do you want to come and sit here?" Jimin says (cutting himself off from saying your name), gesturing to the row of stools along the opposite side of the kitchen counter.

You take him up on his offer, eager to have something to do.

The kitchen is flush with heat from the cooking, but you can still hear the rain pounding outside from the cracked window above the sink.

Jungkook pauses his cheese-shredding to provide Jin with a glass of red wine and Namjoon with a whiskey cocktail of some kind, giving each of them a kiss on the cheek as he does so.

You sit there and watch it all unfold.

Yoongi boils the pasta as he watches the sauce and meatballs simmer. Jimin prepares a ceasar salad with grilled chicken, croutons, and freshly shredded cheese (thanks to Jungkook). And Taehyung spreads butter, herbs, garlic, and cheese on the bread slices and places them in the oven.

At some point, Hobi comes down the stairs and into the room, slick with sweat and panting slightly. He sends a radiant smile your way when he sees you.

Soon, the table is set and everyone's gathering around, Yoongi gesturing for you to sit with them.

Jin and Namjoon sit at either head of the long table, you falling into the seat in-between Jimin and Jungkook.

Bowls of pasta and meatballs are served, garnished with fresh herbs and grated cheese. Jungkook helps load a side of salad and garlic bread onto your plate like it's the most natural thing in the world.

This time, you don't hesitate to dive into the food. Everyone notices, but they just exchange happy glances between themselves to avoid making you feel uncomfortable.

The food they make is ridiculously good. The pasta, tomato sauce, and savory meatballs warm your insides, providing ample protein to help you feel stronger. The salad is crisp and refreshing, the bread soft and salty.

The men around you are chatting pleasantly, every once in a while attempting to lure you into the conversation, but you have absolutely no interest in that. Your brain is still sluggish with exhaustion. Right now you’re just glad the food isn’t upsetting your stomach.

You don’t see it, of course, but a steady stream of warmth fills their hearts whenever they look up and see you sitting at the table, eating as much as you want.

After dinner, Hoseok and Jungkook start on the dishes while you follow the rest of them to the living room. The soft jazz is still playing, some of them refilling their wine glasses before they settle on the couch.

They’re still trying to talk to you.

“How’s your stomach?” Jin asks. You nod as if to say alright.

“Did you get some sleep on the drive home?” Yoongi asks. You nod again, even though you know this isn’t your home.

“Would you like to meet more of the pets?” Jimin asks. You nod more firmly this time.

He rushes off to another room with a big smile.

You reacted well to Fish Sticks, so they decide to let the rest of the cats out.

There’s Hepburn, a regal-looking fluffy white cat with iridescent blue eyes. She looks up at you from the floor and rubs against your legs.

Then there’s Grease, a black cat with very large green eyes and fangs that poke out from his mouth. He tries to crawl up your pants, but after a stern word from the men, he settles to just hop around your ankles.

Finally there’s Potbelly, clearly a little bit older and slightly chunky, with a smattering of brown, orange and white fur. He nuzzles against your hand briefly before sauntering away, disinterested.

You react very fondly to all the cats, stooping down to scratch behind their ears.

“Would you like to meet the dogs?” Jimin asks next, watching your face closely for your reaction.

They’re not sure if you encountered any guard dogs at the facility.

Unlikely, because your face only turns more interested, and you give an eager nod.

They bring them out one at a time. The smallest first, Yeontan, a dark fluffy Pomeranian who yips happily at the sight of you.

You notice a very strange expression come across Taehyung’s face.

Then there’s Mickey, a small brown and white dog that approaches you excitedly yet gently. Then Holly, a brown curly-haired dog that tries very adamantly to sit in your lap. Then Bam, a sleek Doberman that jumps and runs circles around your form when he sees you.

“Gentle, gentle,” Jungkook instructs the dog when he almost tackles you.

Then Jimin brings in a fluffy golden retriever, who is yanking desperately on the leash in both Jimin’s hands.

“Toast, calm down, girl!” Jimin says as he gets dragged along.

But when the dog sees you, she lets out a sharp whimper, shooting towards you like a bullet. The leash is yanked out of Jimin’s hands as she barrels into your legs, letting out little whines and happy-sounding barks.

Something makes you sink to your knees and wrap your arms around the dog, some deep and heavy urge that grips you like a clenched fist. You gulp an inhale of the dog’s somehow familiar scent, and tears nearly spring into your eyes.

Everyone around you is about to cry too. Toast is your dog.

She smelled you almost as soon as you entered the house. It broke their hearts to keep her separated from you, since they had no idea how you’d react. She nearly broke the door down trying to get to you.

She’s panting as you pet her head, her tongue hanging out of her grinning mouth, tail wagging rapidly.

If you’d die for Fish Sticks, then you’d go to war for Toast.

You stay on the ground petting her for a while, the boys watching you fondly. At some point, you find your eyelids drooping again, belly full and worn out from all the interaction.

“Are you ready to wash up and settle in for bed?” Jimin asks you, very much fighting the urge to coo at how cute you look while comfortably half-asleep.

You nod and follow him upstairs. He gives you a set of striped pajama pants and matching button-up as you wash off with another wet washcloth, Toast sticking to your side like Velcro the entire time.

Downstairs, everyone crowds around Jin and Namjoon, asking how the tests at the clinic went, barely concealed hope in their eyes.

But they shake their heads solemnly.

“The spell was at nearly full strength. Nothing can be recovered,” Jin says. “But otherwise she’s healthy.”

Their faces fall a bit, but they figured that it would take a miracle for your memories to get brought back. Even if it were possible, the process would no doubt cause you extreme pain, and none of them want that.

Taehyung, though, has tears in his eyes again. He brings his hand up to his forehead.

If only you knew, Tae thinks. If only you knew just how much they love you, how much he loves you.

But he knows that you’re uncomfortable around him. And the awful thought did cross his mind: what if you never love him again?

Jungkook rubs Taehyung’s back as more tears fall. He can see the pain in Taehyung's face, the pain that screams please don't forget me and all the things we shared.

But it can't be helped. All they can do is help you as much as they can.

"She's just...gone," Taehyung chokes out.

Namjoon swoopes in right away.

"She's still her, just a little lost," he says.

"But she recognized Toast," Taehyung mumbles, dejected. Because why didn't you react that way to any of them?

"It's instinctual, muscle memory," Yoongi cuts in firmly. "You can erase the memories, but you can't completely erase the feelings that come with them."

Jin places a hand on Taehyung's shoulder, leaning into him.

"I'm sure she recognizes us, in a sense. She just can't express it because we're...people. Animals are easy, they don't judge. But people...it's people that hurt her," Jin says, rubbing soothing circles across Tae's shoulders.

The younger man nods, wiping his tears. He's gone silent, now. Jungkook helps him up the stairs to get ready for bed.

Later that night, Namjoon brings a half-empty bottle of rosé and two glasses up to his and Jin's shared bedroom.

Jin is fresh out of the shower, wrapped in a bathrobe, hair still wet, a medical newsletter in his hand.

Namjoon puts the glass in his empty hand and fills it up. Jin smiles at him gratefully.

"Quite a day, huh?" Namjoon says as he pours a glass for himself.

Jin looks lost in thought.

"I'm worried about Tae," he says solemnly.

Namjoon pauses, then comes to perch on the armrest of the chair Jin is sitting in.

"He's still in denial. It's a hard pill to swallow," Namjoon says, wrapping an arm around his other half.

"Indeed it is," Jin replies, sipping at his wine.

"He'll come around," Namjoon insists.

"I know he will. It's just..." Jin trails off.

"Yes, love?" Namjoon prompts.

"There's this tension between them that I don't understand," he says. "I think Tae is mourning her old self because he doesn't think her new self will connect with him."

"Hmm," Namjoon says, thinking. "I think you're right. But we'll be there, to help both of them. That's what they need right now, for someone to guide and support them into a new state of being."

Jin downs the rest of his wine, beaming up at his partner.

"I love you, you know that?" he says, grinning.

"Of course I do," Namjoon replied, grinning back.

"Now come on, let's get in bed."

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! i would literally sell my left tit to hear any of your thoughts!

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒔𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

part 7 of 🌧️welcome to hell🌧️

summary - time passes and you finally find your happiness, but does it last for long?

warning - smut, swearing, near death, angst, bad thoughts, doubt, dirty thoughts, slight violence, creampie.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Time had passed since Steve had apologised, things were slowly getting better. You had found friends that you felt you could trust, you were currently standing with Nat and Wanda. You had stopped listening to the conversation a while ago when your eyes had found Steve’s, you didn’t mean to but everything seemed to disappear when you looked at him. 

You could see his expression was serious from where you were standing but as his head turned and his eyes connected with yours. You liked how it softened slightly, he looked at you differently from how he had looked at everyone else and you could feel yourself falling. 

“He looks at you differently.” Nat’s voice pierces your mind.

You hum, not daring to remove your eyes from his. “How does he look at me?” 

Wanda giggles, her eyes flickering between you two. “Like he never wants to look away.” You felt your heart flutter as those words leave her lips.

A similar conversation takes place with the men across from your group. 

“Damn, the way you look at her…” Sam whistles. “You got it bad.” 

Steve’s brows furrow, “How do I look?” 

Bucky smirks, patting his back. “Like you would kill for her.” And Steve would, he knew he would do anything for you. 

Steve felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest when you smiled at him. He had never seen someone with the prettiest smile, not until he met you. He could feel his lips lifting on their own, returning your sweet smile, feeling like he accomplished something when you shyly look away, bottom lip between your teeth holding back a grin. 

You deserved the world and Steve wanted to give it to you. 

“I’m going to do it.” He stated, causing Bucky and Sam to turn their heads his way. “I’m going to finally ask Y/n out.” He looks at them and grins. 

“That’s great, man! When are you gonna do it?” Sam pats his back, while Bucky looks at his best friend with a smile. 

“Now.” That’s all Steve says as he’s already heading towards you, not being able to wait any longer. When he stops in front of you, he swears that everyone can hear how loud his heart is beating. But he didn’t care, all of his attention was on you. “Hi.” Steve sounded like he had run a mile, but you just seemed to knock the breath out of him. 

You smile up at him, your eyes shining with affection. He looked so good in front of you. “Hi.” Why did you sound so out of breath?

Neither of you notice Nat and Wanda slowly moving next to Bucky and Sam who watch you guys with giant smiles. 

“Hi.” Your smile widens as Steve repeats himself and you raise a brow. How could someone be so cute and handsome at the same time? So rough but soft? Steve blinks, his cheeks turning pink as he realises he’s already said hi. “Go out with me?” His eyes widen when he blurts out. “I mean, would you like to go out with me?” 

“I would love to.” Your smile never left your lips and only he seemed to be able to do that. 

Steve nods with a smile before his mouth drops open. “Wait really?” You giggle, nodding. “Good, great! Yes.” He stumbles before clearing his throat. “Now?” 

It was your turn for your eyes to widen. “Now?” You nervously look down at your outfit. “I’ll need to change… I don’t think I should wear this for our first date.” 

Steve shakes his head. “You don’t have to, I mean… You can if you want, but I think you are beautiful in anything.” His eyes don’t leave yours and suddenly you no longer care about what clothes you are wearing.

You lick your lips and turn, beginning to walk off. “Let’s go, pretty boy.” You faintly hear your friends cheer as Steve follows like a lovesick puppy, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. You let out a startled gasp when he suddenly appears beside you, forgetting about his long legs and how he manages to move so fast with them. 

Your chest tightens when you feel his hand softly grasp yours, his fingers fitting so perfectly with yours. He squeezed your hand gently as though he knew how nervous you were. 

Steve had led you to his car, opening the door for you before walking around to the drivers side. You felt the need to ask him where he was taking you, it was right on the tip of your tongue but when you looked at him. You no longer cared, you just wanted to be anywhere he was.

You watched the scenery pass by as Steve drove before he turned into a parking lot. “I just have to grab a few things and then we will head to our date. Does that sound okay?” He looked at you and it felt nice that he wanted to make sure it was okay with you before he did it. You hadn’t experienced this before.

You nod but Steve shakes his head, cupping your cheek softly. “Words, Sweetheart.”

You don’t think you should be feeling what you’re feeling on a first date. Nope, definitely not. You couldn’t jump his bones on a first date, it’s not right. But it’s the only thing you could think about as you stared into his eyes. 

Steve chuckles, his thumb stroking your skin. “Unless you want to come with me?” 

You shake your head, you definitely wouldn’t be able to walk or think straight. You’d need a few seconds without him to be able to calm yourself. “N–no, I’m okay. That sounds okay to me.” Would it be so bad to ditch the date and have him fuck you into the backseat? 

Steve nods, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead before exiting the car with a promise he’ll be quick. The moment the door shuts, you lean back and let out a breath, watching him walk into the shop. Probably wasn’t the best idea as your eyes next left his back or arse.

“Fuck me, how am I going to last?” Your eyes squeeze shut as you try and divert your thoughts somewhere else. “He’s so sweet… I just want to pin him down and ride him.” You huff. “That’s definitely not helping. But he is sweet though…”

You probably looked insane to anyone outside of the car looking in. But you needed to have a small conversation with yourself or you’d end up going crazy. 

Steve rushed around the store, grabbing the things he needed to make this date worth it for you. He didn’t want to screw up his chance, you were what he wanted. He thought about you when he woke up and when he went to sleep, every little thing reminded him of you. Steve felt like the time was finally right. He headed towards the exit after paying but stopped as he came across a small flower stand that he swears wasn’t there when he came in but he doesn’t question it as he wasn’t exactly thinking much when he walked in, his hand skims over a few of them as he tries to find the perfect ones. 

“Not those ones.” His brows furrowed as he heard someone speak to him, causing him to look up. An old man smiles as he moves closer. “Those won’t do.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“The flowers. You’re getting them for someone special, yes?” Steve nods, an image of you appearing in his mind. “Then those are definitely not the ones. Here.” The old man begins to pick certain flowers from each bouquet and Steve opens his mouth to say that he probably isn’t allowed to do that but closes when he turns around. 

Steve’s mouth drops open, his arm reaching out and his hand softly grazes the flower. “They’re beautiful.” He pulls his hand back and reaches into his pocket to grab his wallet. “How much do I owe you?” 

The old man shakes his head, pushing the bouquet towards Steve gently. “It’s on the house, son. Now go, you don’t want to keep this special lady waiting any longer.” He smiles softly, a sparkle in his eyes as Steve grabs the flowers off of him. 

“Thank you, thank you so much. This means a lot.” Steve nods with appreciation before bidding the man a goodbye and walking away. Steve stops, feeling slightly bad. “Wait, I can’t take these for fr–” As he turns, he sees that the stall is gone. As though it was never there. His brows furrowed as he looked between the vacant space and the flowers. Surely it wasn’t all in his head, he had the bouquet in his hand. With a shake of his head, Steve walks out of the store and heads towards the car, questions filling his mind. 

You smile when you see Steve and all the thoughts that cloud his mind suddenly vanish as he looks at you. He smiles back, placing the basket neatly in the backseat before climbing into the front and handing you the bouquet. His hands shake slightly, hoping you’d like them. 

“Steve…” You stare at them with wide eyes, your hands slowly grabbing them and you lean in to smell them before you turn to him, your mouth opening and closing. “They’re beautiful… You didn’t have to…” You blink, feeling tears brim your eyes as you stare at him. “Thank you.” 

Steve reaches over, taking your hand softly. His thumb stroking your knuckles. “I would give you the whole world if I could.” He brings your hand up and places a soft kiss on it before he turns the car on, never letting go of your hand. “Now, are you ready to start our date officially?” You nod, no words able to escape you as you tighten your hold on his. 

You don’t think your mouth had closed since the beginning of this date with Steve, he had pulled moves that you weren’t expecting. Well, moves you didn’t think you deserved. 

You had finally arrived at your destination, which confused you a bit as he parked his car in a dirt parking lot in front of the woods. You looked at him and tilted your head. “If you brought me out here to kill me. I just want to let you know that you will probably get a one star review for first dates.”

Steve looks at you and chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t kill such a beautiful woman. I’d be incredibly stupid if I did.” He kisses your hand again before hopping out of the car and jogging around to your side before you even have a chance to turn around. Steve opens the door and helps you out before grabbing the basket in the back, his hand never leaving yours as he leads you through a short path. Your mouth drops open once again as you notice a beautiful field at the end of the path, it looks like something from a dream. “Do you like it?”

You squeeze his hand, not taking your eyes off of the field. “I love it.” You feel Steve let go before watching him walk out and find a spot, you watch him set the basket down and open it, pulling out a blanket. He lays the blanket flat on the ground before pulling food and drinks out of the basket. You walk over as he gestures for you, grabbing your hand softly as he helps you down. You stumble, falling into his chest gently. Your hands resting flat on the hardened muscle, his hands gripping your hips. 

Your eyes meet and you both notice how close you are to each other. You notice how well you seem to fit together. 

“Sorry…” Your cheeks heat up and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you continue to look into his eyes. 

“Don’t be.” Steve’s eyes dart between yours and your lips, his grip tightening slightly. “Are you hungry, Sweetheart?” 

You nod, teeth sinking harder into your lip because you aren’t thinking about food. Steve’s lips lift into a smirk, one hand moving to cup your cheek as his thumb pulls your lip from your mouth. 

“For food, Sweetheart. No matter how much I want to, I’m not going to sleep with you on the first date, nor the second or third. I want you to know I’m serious about being with you for you and not what’s between your legs.” He looked so serious and all you could think was–

Is it possible for hearts to have orgasms?

Steve sets you in a comfortable position on his lap, he liked the feeling of you close and when you didn’t protest, he took that as a good sign. He grabs the paper plates he bought and piles food onto them, listening to you ask for either more or a specific thing. You talked in a different light then how you guys talked when around your friends, it felt good, refreshing even. 

After you had finished eating, you and Steve lied onto your backs. You decided to play a small game that included the clouds and you couldn’t stop the laughs from escaping you. Steve couldn’t stop himself from staring at you. 

Your head falls to the side, the smile slowly falling off of your face as you notice Steve looking at you. “What?...” Was there something on your face? 

He hums, eyes fluttering as they dance across your face, taking in your features. “Just wondering how anyone could let you slip through their fingers. Must be blind or dumb… Or possibly both.” 

“You wouldn’t let me slip through yours?” Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip again and it was driving Steve crazy. 

He shakes his head. “I’d choose you and I’ll choose you, over, and over, and over. Without pause, without a doubt, in a heartbeat. I will keep choosing you.” You suck in a breath at his confession. Steve moves closer and takes your face into his hands. “Don’t you know? I have been yours. You always had my heart from the beginning. I fell for you ages ago. I have always belonged to you and only you.” He leans closer and your lips part. “I am yours, Sweetheart. Even if you aren’t mine.” 

It felt like everything had finally fallen together as he uttered those words. You could finally see what you had in front of you, you could finally feel what you had been pushing away. You wanted to jump, you wanted him.

“I’m yours.” The moment those words fall from your lips, Steve’s lips crash into yours, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss, his hand moving to cup the back of your head while the other cups your cheek. You could have sworn there were sparks, fireworks… Everything that the books and movies said would happen. 

The void inside yours and Steve’s chest had finally been filled, causing an extreme amount of love and happiness to flow through you. 

You pull away, softly gasping for air. You didn’t want to stop, because his lips felt so fucking good against yours. But unfortunately you needed to breathe and it seemed as though Steve felt the same as your eyes connected with his dark gaze.

Steve’s thumb strokes your cheek, “God, your ex is such a fucking idiot.” You hum, blinking slowly as you continue to stare into his eyes, his words barely registering in your mind. “But if I ever run into him. I’m definitely going to thank him.” 

You blink, brows furrowing as you pull back. “Huh?”

Steve grins. “Don’t get me wrong, If I ever meet the guy. I’ll definitely kill him for hurting you. But if he didn’t hurt you like he did, you wouldn’t have left and we wouldn’t have bumped into each other again.” He moves closer, brushing his nose against yours before pulling back and smiling more. “So, before I kill him. I am going to thank him for leading you back to me.” 

You huff, glaring at him a bit before cracking a smile when Steve just grins back. Your eyes flicker down to your fingers that play with his beard, humming softly before looking back into his eyes. “You wouldn’t kill him… It’s not who you are.”

Steve leans forward, pressing a rough but tender kiss against your lips before he pulls back. “You don’t seem to understand the power you hold over me, Sweetheart. I would rip the world apart with my bare hands if anything ever happened to you.” Your heart jumped, but not in fear. “Hell, I’d do it if you simply asked me too. That’s how much power you hold over me, Sweetheart.” Your lips part as he takes your chin in his hand, gently caressing it as he looks at you. “I need you to understand before we go any further with this. That I am yours and only yours. There is no other person that I want, no one else crosses through my thoughts when I think of love. You are the only one I want to be with.”

“I understand.” 

Steve shakes his head. “No, no you don’t and that’s okay. I won’t go anywhere when you have doubts about me, or when you begin to worry that I may be cheating. I am going to stick through it all because I want you. Because I will prove to you that you are the only woman I will ever love, ever be intimate with. Even if it takes forever for you to fully trust and believe, I can do this all day.” His words were so gentle and filled with love that you felt like crying. 

You cupped his face into your hands, pulling him back in for a deep kiss. Your eyes closing as you savor this feeling, enjoying how complete you feel when his lips touch yours. 

After your first date, everything else seemed to finally fall into place. Steve kept his word on not sleeping with you on your second and third date, which was driving you insane because he treated you so well while looking so god damn hot doing it. It was like he knew that you were seconds away from jumping him because he’d tease you and smirk while doing it but he would never let it go any further. It was like he was doing everything in his power to make you understand he was in this for more than just sex. 

You stared at yourself in the mirror, taking deep breaths as you prepared for another date Steve had planned. The other dates you didn’t react like this but this one he was taking you to a carnival. You were scared that what you had with Steve would change after this. You knew it was silly, it was just a carnival but what if this was a sign? What if things went downhill because things reminded you of him?

You blink out of your daze when you feel arms wrapping around you, your back hitting a thick body. Your eyes meet Steve’s worried gaze, your mouth opens but Steve beats you to it. 

“If you’re thinking you aren’t beautiful again. I swear I will put you over my knee.” He watches as your thighs squeeze together at the thought. “Maybe not, you seem to be into that idea.” Steve spins you around, pushing you softly against the counter while gripping your chin between his fingers. “Do you want to tell me what you are feeling?” 

You begin to chew on your bottom lip, staring up at him as you think. Steve tuts gently, pulling your lip from your teeth as he glares down at them before his eyes dart up to your eyes, raising a brow. “Johnny took me to the carnival…” 

He sucks in a breath at the mention of your ex, wishing he could give that man a piece of his mind. Possibly dumping his body into the ocean also but that could wait. “We don’t have to go if it’s making you uncomfortable, Sweetheart. I am happy as long as you are happy.” 

Your brows furrow as you hate this feeling, your ex hurt you and now you are acting like a child because a man who actually loves you wants to take you somewhere special. “No, I’m being stupid. I want to go.” 

You let out a soft gasp when he pushes you into the counter more, squeezing your chin slightly. “Sweetheart. Don’t you dare call yourself fucking stupid again. You are not stupid for feeling like this, do you understand?” 

You pout slightly, squeezing your thighs together softly as Steve moves your head up and down. “Good girl. I knew you would.” He leans down, pecking your lips gently. “Where do you want to go, Sweetheart?” 

“The carnival.” You let out a small whimper, wishing he would just fuck you right here and right now. 

You arrive, hand gripping Steve’s. He thinks it’s due to anxiety and bad memories but you really just want to sink to your knees and worship him. 

Steve lets you pull him along, going from game to game. You play a game of each before he takes a turn, winning you every prize you have your eye on. You couldn’t be happier, the other memories now forgotten as they are replaced with the happiness Steve brings. 

“I’m going to get us some food. Will you be okay here?” Steve asks, cupping your cheek as he peers down at you. You nod, smiling up at him as he leans down and pecks your lips. “Call out if you need me, Sweetheart. I’d drop everything to make sure you’re safe.” 

You let out a sigh of happiness as he walks away, your eyes falling to his arse. You were slightly jealous at how glorious it was compared to yours. But then again, if you asked Steve, he would say yours was a work of art. 

“Y/n?” You are pulled out of your thoughts as a familiar voice calls out to you. Your eyes drift and lock onto your ex-husband’s, he walks over with a giant smile. “Damn, you’re looking good! How have you been? Who was that guy?” 

You blink, confused. “Uh, I’ve been fine. That’s Steve.” You began to look around, hoping to catch Steve’s eye but you couldn’t see him anywhere. How far had he gone for food? Did he really go for food or was he pulling a Johnny? Your heart squeezed at the thought of being played again, you were stupid to think that you could get your happy ending. 

Johnny reaches out and touches your arm, moving closer. “I’ve missed you, Baby Girl.” You feel like you are going to throw up as the nickname slips from his lips. “Why don’t you give me another chance, hmm? I promise I won’t do it again.” 

“What happened to Sarah?” 

Johnny scoffs, his thumb stroking your arm. “She didn’t want to come. Don’t worry about her, so. What do you say we get out of here and I can make up for all of that time we missed?” 

You try to pull away while looking at him disgusted. “What the fuck, Johnny. You haven’t fucking changed at all. I loved you!” 

Johnny scoffs, “I know.” 

“And you broke my heart.” 

He nods. “I know that, too.” 

Your mouth opens as you go to say something but a dark shadow looms over the two of you. You turn your head and sigh as you realise it’s Steve, his eyes dark as he glares down at Johnny. Without realising, Johnny loosens his grip allowing Steve to pull you closer to him, tucking you into his side. 

“This is the guy you replaced me with?” He laughs, pointing. “This guy? He couldn’t even make you fucking scream if he tried.” He looks between you and Steve before settling back on you. “Come back to me, Baby Girl and I promise I’ll make you forget this guy.” Johnny reaches for you only for Steve to reach forward and grip his neck. 

You looked around with wide eyes, thankfully Steve chose a more secluded area because he wanted to spend some time with you without others intervening. 

“Touch her again and I’ll break your neck.” 

That was not supposed to turn you on. You were sick, yep. Definitely sick. 

Johnny tries to scoff the best he can while his neck is currently being squeezed. “Please, the slut wants me back. She’s so fucking pathetic I bet she spread her legs the moment you gave her the smallest bit of attention.” 

You watch with wide eyes and a wet cunt as Steve’s grip becomes tighter, he leans closer and whispers words low enough you can barely hear. 

“I’m going to kill you.” Steve’s voice becomes threatening, a slight growl escaping as he glares into Johnny’s eyes. “If you say another word about the woman I love, if you look at her, if you even think about her. I am going to fucking kill you.” 

“Dud–” Johnny tries to speak, his face turning red as he struggles to breathe.

“Actually, I think I will kill you now.” 

You realised Steve wasn’t kidding. He would follow through with everything he had told you on your first date, your eyes widened even more when you realised he had claimed you were the woman he loved. Loved. 

He, Steve Rogers, loved you?

Your chest tightens, “Steve…”

“Don’t you dare argue with me, Sweetheart. You’re mine.” The growl that slips from his lips is so feral, you felt like falling to your knees. “You don’t belong to this piece of shit anymore.” Steve turns his attention away from the man he’s currently choking to you. A darkness swirls deep inside of him, blinding him from being able to think rationally at this point. “You belong to me. Understand?” 

Fuck. 

Without much thought, you launch forward, capturing his lips in a deep, love-filled kiss. Pouring everything you felt into him, your arms moved, cupping his face as you did your best to pull him closer to you. Steve’s grip loosens, dropping Johnny. The both of you ignore as he falls, holding his throat as he coughs, trying to breathe again. 

You sigh happily as Steve’s body turns fully towards you, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him as his other moves to cup the back of your head. Your lips moving so beautifully together, a squeal escapes you as Steve suddenly lifts you, your legs wrapping around him. You moan against his lips as his hand moves from your back to your arse, squeezing and slapping it. 

You pushed through the lust clouding your mind, finally realising you were still very much in public while your ex husband was still rubbing his throat on the ground. But the feel of Steve’s hands and lips against you was like heaven, you didn’t want this to stop ever. Maybe you should thank Johnny, it seemed his arseholeness was the final push for Steve to give into both of your desires. 

A moan slipped from your lips as Steve pulled you even closer to him, nibbling and sucking on your bottom lip as he devoured you. “Fuck. I don’t want our first time to be here, Sweetheart but you’re making this so fucking impossible.” Steve groans, squeezing your arse harder and bringing you into an even deeper kiss. 

“Take me home, Steve.” You breathe into the kiss, tugging slightly on his hair as you pull back to look at him with hooded eyes. “Please. Claim me as yours completely.” 

You watch his eyes darken even more if that was even possible. “You’re going to be the death of me, woman.” Without letting go of you, Steve bends down and stares at Johnny. “If you even think about trying anything. I will end you.” Your grip on him tightens at the threat, causing Steve to smirk. “You lost an incredible woman because of how pathetic you are. But I would like to thank you for leading her to me. If it weren’t for you being such a screw up, I wouldn’t have this wonderful woman in my arms and soon in my bed where you will be the last thing on her mind.” 

With one last look of disgust, Steve carries you throughout the carnival and to the car, hurriedly placing you inside before rushing in himself and driving you back to his place, you squirm the whole way as he leaves his hand on the inside of your thigh. 

You barely have time to breathe as Steve stops the car and instantly rushes to your side. Your arms wrapping around him as he picks you up, you had never seen Steve so… Impatient before, he was always the type to be calm and collected. Your eyes scan his face, noting the way his jaw clenches and his eyes darken. He was so beautiful, how did you become so lucky? You reach Steve’s door but you barely notice, your eyes are stuck on him. Admiring his thick beard and his hair that he had begun growing out. 

Steve looks down at you. “Are you okay? We don’t have to–” 

You press your lips against his gently. “Shh. I want you.” Your hand cups his cheek, smiling softly as he leans into your touch. “I am better than okay. No one has ever done what you did, Steve and I love you for it.” 

A squeal leaves you as Steve launches forward, capturing your lips with his. He manages to open the door before pressing you against the back of it, his hands moving all over your body, not wanting to miss anything. You moan into the kiss, it was like everything was finally falling into place. Your hands fly up, cupping his face and tugging on his hair. You pull him even closer, not wanting there to be any space between the two of you. 

Steve pulls back and you whimper, “God. I want you so bad.” Your breath gets caught in your throat at his confession. His hands grip your hips, looking you deep in your eyes. “You seriously don’t understand the effect you have on me. I can’t even be in the same room as you because I just want to touch you every chance I get.” Your mouth falls open, legs squeezing together.

“Steve…”

He hums, eyes focused on your lips. “Yeah, Sweetheart?” 

“Fuck me.” 

A grin makes its way onto his face as your eyes connect. “As you wish.” 

Next thing you know, you’re on your back staring up at the ceiling as Steve pulls your thighs onto his shoulders. You don’t remember when your clothes had come off but you can barely think as Steve begins to feast on you, your hands curl into the sheets below. “Oh god!” He groans deep into you, tongue swirling and flicking before his lips wrap around your swollen clit, sucking it hard into his mouth as your back arches off of the bed. 

Steve pulls away as you’re about to cum, causing you to look at him with furrowed brows. “I want to feel you cum around me. Then I’m going to take you apart over and over again until you can barely remember your name. Understand, Sweetheart?” 

Your mouth falls open as you stare at him. Brain feeling so fuzzy that you can’t even respond to him now. Steve leans closer, pressing his body against yours. A moan fills the room as you feel his length resting against your cunt. “Don’t worry, Sweetheart. Save your voice, you’ll need it to scream my name out later.” Steve grips your hips, rubbing his thick member against your slick folds before he begins to push in. “Fuck. You feel so good.” 

Your hands fly up, gripping onto him as he thrusts deeper inside of you. “Steve!”

“You’re being so good for me, Sweetheart. My good girl.” He rests his forehead against yours as his hips move, thrusting in and out of you at a steady but rough pace. His hands move all over you, gripping every part of your body before he rests on your neck, cupping it. Your arms wrap around him, crying out as he fucks you.

You clench around him, feeling your end approaching. “Steve! So close!” You moan as his lips connect with yours, bringing you into a deep kiss. His thrusts pick up, slamming into a spot deep inside of you that causes you to see stars. Your back arches, pressing your body closer against his as you cum hard around him. “STEVE!” You scream out, blacking out for a slight moment.

Steve groans into the kiss, biting down gently on your bottom lip as his cock twitches, pumping you full of his cum. You hold onto him tightly as he continues to coat your walls, hips moving softly against you. He pulls back and looks at you with darkened eyes. “You’ve got me hooked, Sweetheart. There’s no way I’m letting go of you now.” You gasp as you feel him harden inside of you, fully aware that you’re in for a long night.

Steve flops down beside you, huffing slightly as he tries to catch his breath. You stare dazedly up at the ceiling. “Wow.” 

He smiles, pulling you close to him. You snuggle into him, your sore body relaxing as he begins to caress your shoulders and back. Steve leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead before resting his chin on top of your head. “I love you. I want you to know that this isn’t a one time thing for me. You are it for me, okay? You are the woman I want to spend every waking moment with.” You smile happily into his chest. 

So this is love? You could get used to this kind of love. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[ratislatis]

I'll find you. Wait for me.

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