#yes that's the red string of fate that tied them together snapping

[perkeleen-lavellan]

No one has to know

It’ll be our secret

It doesn’t have to be betrayal

Just kiss me and don’t say those words

‘I love you’

I really needed a break from an insane backlog of work that’s been piling up and decided to finish this thing that’s been lying around forever. I will never stop loving these stupid, stupid boys. They may not have been destined to remain together but they sure as shit were destined to love each other.

|| KO-FI || REDBUBBLE ||

[a-palemoon-sliver]

Concept: A yandere who has the power of the Red String of Fate. He can weave the Threads of Fate into any form he chooses, and when he finds your Cord among the many millions at his grasp, he takes a liking, and makes full use of his powers to snare you. First, he spins a thread of Fate, and then loops it around your finger, tying you two together. Then he shortens the Thread, and reels you in.

You meet each other by chance one day, and you feel a strange energy crackle between you as you trade conversation. Is it fate? Or is it an intentional vibe he’s giving off? He’s attractive enough: tall and lithe, but his hands look strong. He doesn’t work out, it seems like, but he works with his hands. He’s got an easy smile, and a charmed, honeyed tongue, and you find yourself liking him a little despite being strangers. Well, he is quite the weaver, after all.

Well, if that meeting wasn’t enough to trade phone numbers, to catch your heart, if the Thread of Fate snaps that day, then he just weaves more, and throws them around you again, tighter this time. He wants you, he likes what he sees; he sees something different in you, something interesting, and he has to have you. A few more chance meetings are engineered, products of Serendipity in all appearance, and he’s worming his way steadily into your good graces.

Once or twice, you think you imagine a bug crawling on your arms, but you’ve no idea he has a Thread tied around every one of your fingers and your wrists by now, has them tied snugly at your sides, making you harmless, just how he likes. And you’re none the wiser, because you can’t see the threads. No one can, except him. He laughs at how easy his job is, always is. He has you in the bag already!

On a day when the weather is unusually nice, he asks for your phone number, this stranger you keep running into, says he’d like to get to know you better, while giving an obviously-hinting, hopeful expression. He seems quite lovestruck. And for some reason, you say yes, without knowing why. You couldn’t know he’s thrown a Thread around your throat, though it only lasts a moment before snapping.

But that moment is enough, because now he can get closer, can continue roping you in, he, the spider in his web, and you the jewel-beetle in his sights. You trade numbers, he texts you immediately and grins. He says sorry, he has to be somewhere soon, but he’ll be waiting for your text tonight, and makes you promise him you’ll text him. Only once he’s been assured does he turn around and take off down the street, but he blows a kiss back your way before he disappears into the crowd.

That night, doubt gets the better of you, and you decide not to text him, but you’re already in his clutches, and he feels the Threads vibrate when your doubt takes hold. Quickly he texts you first, and gets a conversation going, making you comfortable. Good, he thinks, once the Threads have settled down again, things are back on track. He’ll continue winning your trust, winning your heart, and then soon enough you’ll be his, his forever. He’ll make sure of it.

And he’s quite the talented weaver, this spider in his red, red web, and he can weave anything he wants from the Threads that Bind. He’ll have your hands wound up in sticky scarlet gloves, to prevent you from clawing your way away from him. He’ll have your feet bound up in red woven boots, to prevent you from taking even a step without his say-so. And he sets to work on Weaving for you, his precious jewel beetle, Weaving, saving the best for last, weaving drunk on delight and hunger, for your pretty, captivating eyes, a sticky, glistening scarlet blindfold.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 2

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village

Rating: T for language and mild medical drama

Warnings: Typical Vampire shenanigans

Genre: Hurt + comfort

Summary: Bela is somewhat unprepared to deal with a soulmate who has no clue about her condition, her family, or any of the village's secrets. Thankfully, her sister Cassandra is more than willing to be a bad example. Also there's some fluff.

Notes: For reference, each of my soulmate stories take place in their own contained timeline, since they each involve different types of soulmates. So in this one, Cass doesn't currently have a soulmate.

Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow

2: Tangled Strands

A gentle humming fills the space around you, as fingers slowly run through your hair. As far as you can tell you had fallen back asleep, for several hours, and you were just now waking back up. No longer holding you down, your soulmate is curled up next to you. There’s still a needle in your arm, much to your irritation, but now you can finally see what it’s connected to: An IV for a transfusion. Explains why I’m feeling so much better than before, you think. Then you’re turning your head to the other side, eager to finally get a good look at your soulmate. Instantly you’re blushing, tongue tying itself into a knot, because wow are you lucky.

“Feeling any better?” She asked, as soon as your gaze met hers. You try to stutter out a confirmation, but you’re too distracted by the soft curve of her smile to speak, and barely even manage a nod. That beautiful smile grows wider in response. “Good. I couldn’t stand the thought of you suffering more, after what you’ve already been through.” Now her smile fades, and she looks away for a few moments. Watching it makes your heart ache. So you swallow the lump in your throat, willing yourself to relax, before trying a little comforting of your own.

“I am safe now, am I not? Moreso, we have too much to talk about for us to dwell on the ill circumstances of our introduction. Let us cherish this time, in respite, with our hearts open wide to one another,” you said, donning your softest smile. Somehow your words fulfill their purpose, and your soulmate is once again grinning. Slowly she leans forward to rest her forehead against yours. Then she’s speaking, voice as smooth as the sheets you lay on.

“You are right, of course. I simply wish I could have saved you sooner,” she replied, tone betraying the sadness that her expression otherwise hid. Before you can protest, she continues talking, and you soon forget all about your qualms. “To think I don’t even know your name yet… nor you mine, I suppose. Let’s remedy that, yes? I am Bela Dimitrescu.” Something about her last name feels familiar to you, but not to the point of clear recognition. Instead of inquiring, you return her favor, giving her your own name. She repeats it back a few times, letting the syllables roll off her tongue, and you feel your heart skip a few beats. “A lovely name for a lovely soul, perfectly paired.”

A pause, followed by Bela reaching out to examine your IV. Following her gaze, you turn to the metal hook adjacent to the bed, where a blood bag hangs. Only a few drops remain inside. Just as when you first awoke, Bela gives a soft hum, then rises into a sitting position. Your first instinct is to copy the motion, and you’re relieved when (this time) she doesn’t push you back down. Both of you quietly inch your hands closer until they’re laid on top of each other.

“I wish I knew more about medicine, but unfortunately my family is more experienced in the creation of wounds than the treatment of them,” Bela said, scowling. Confused, you tilt your head at a slight angle, watching her with interest. Am I supposed to know who she’s referring to? My memories of the past couple days are still hazy, you think. “Do… do you remember how you ended up in the dungeon? I know you wanted to speak of happier things, and we can, soon. It’s just… Knowing how you arrived here may help me deal with the consequences of freeing you. Mother will be dreadfully upset that I’ve interrupted a draining, even if we are soulmates.”

“Wait, are you saying…? The intimidating giantess who strung me up and attempted to bleed me dry… is your mother?” You asked, jaw nearly dropping to the floor. This was an unexpected development, for sure.

“You didn’t know?” Bela replied, eyes going wide for a moment. Clearly she wouldn’t have said anything if she realized you weren’t already aware. Suddenly the tension in the room is palpable, with an uncomfortable silence overtaking the two of you. In the moment, you cannot even bring yourself to look at Bela, too stunned by this new knowledge. Eventually she breaks the silence, voice sounding unsure for once. “I realize that this is a lot to take in, if you need time to process it, I… I can go. But you need to understand that our situation is far more complicated than it might appear. We cannot survive without the blood of others- it is what sustains us when nothing else can.”

Now you’re staring at her like she’s crazy, and she’s standing up, moving to the other side of the room. She draws back a curtain, gazing out into the snow covered hills. Every muscle in your body is urging you to run while she’s distracted. Thread of fate be damned, this went far beyond anything you had ever imagined having to deal with. You come so close to ripping the IV right out of your arm. But a gentle tug on your soul string makes you pause, remembering all the times this bond gave you hope in dark times. Had she felt the same way, all these years? What had she gone through, in this absurd castle, on the very edges of civilization? You pull on the red thread, feeling a wave of composure wash over you.

“It appears there is much I need to learn. But is that not the very nature of our connection? We know, simply, that we are bound to each other, though we know not what shapes our souls take so that we might put them together, nor even what roles we must play. I cannot say that I understand your plight, my dear, but I will try, as is my obligation, and my honor,” you said, wishing you could hold her, and cursing your IV. As soon as the first word leaves your mouth, Bela is turning around, watching you with a bittersweet expression. Once you’re done she’s moving closer, as if reading your mind, extending a hand to cup your cheek. Then she leans forward to press a brief kiss to your forehead. “Oh, how I have longed for this- to be with you, to get to know you.”

“As did I,” she murmured. You can’t help but lean into her touch, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment. “Perhaps I should introduce you to my family? I imagine you’ll be needing breakfast anyway, and bringing human food back to my quarters would raise more suspicion than I’d like.” Well, the moment couldn’t last forever, could it?

“Only if you promise that your mother won’t suspend me by my wrists again. Or by any other part of me. Shall we simply put suspension off the table altogether?” You asked, half teasing. To be entirely honest, you were equally worried about Bela’s sisters. Well, the people you had heard other prisoners whispering about, who were the daughters of the giantess, and by connecting a few dots were also, presumably, Bela’s sisters. Apparently they preferred to play with their food. Unless, of course, Bela was one of the daughters you had heard about, and would have easily torn into you if not for your connection. Let’s not dwell on that concept, you think, glad to be distracted by your soulmate.

“I will not let anyone harm you anymore, my beloved. My mother would not stand so firmly in the way of my happiness,” Bela reassured, though you detected a hint of uncertainty in her tone. Still, there wasn’t much you could do other than trust her. “Now, let me take care of your bandages, then we’ll head downstairs…”

---------------------------------

“Who the fuck is this?” An unfamiliar voice asked, as you meandered down the corridor, arm around Bela for support. As soon as she hears the person speak, your soulmate is freezing in place, casting a worried glance over her shoulder. When you turn as well, you spot someone dressed almost identically to Bela. However, the woman wears a yellow pendant, as opposed to a red one, and her hair is a dark brown. It feels safe to assume that she’s one of the sisters you’ve heard about. Which understandably makes you nervous, to the point where you almost want to hide behind Bela. Instead, you stand tall, attempting to seem unfazed by either her presence or her vulgarity.

“Mind your manners, Cassandra,” Bela hissed, taking more of an aggressive stance than you had anticipated. “This, dear sister, is my soulmate. And if you even think about harming them, or getting in our way, I will tear you apart.” While you’re downright shocked at the intensity of Bela’s statement, her sister doesn’t look at all impressed, and eyes you with minimal interest. Better than looking at you with hatred, right? Apparently not, as Bela moves to stand between the two of you, eyes narrowed. There’s a clear stiffness in her posture that leaves you anxious. Cassandra seems to notice it as well, and laughs, before taking a few steps in your direction. Then your soulmate mimics the movement, forcing you to do so as well.

“They’re human,” Cassandra snapped, pausing to sniff the air and scowl. “Here I thought your soulmate would have to be special, if they’re to compare to your ego. You’re disappointed, aren’t you? Having to settle for this.” With that she shifts, flesh writhing, making your stomach churn as you watch her disintegrate into a cloud of… flies? What the hell is wrong with this family? Can Bela do that too? I hope not, you think. Soon you’re pulled from your thoughts, however, as the swarm circles around you, single insects occasionally surging forward to cut at your skin. But Bela is grabbing you by the sleeve and tugging you to her chest, moving against a wall so that her body shielded your own. Your eyes clamp shut as you shake in her arms. When the buzzing stops, it is quickly replaced with cruel laughter. “That fragile, hmm? I can’t wait to see what mother thinks. See you at breakfast, sister!”

Then the two of you are alone, still pressed against the wall, staying still until the sound of footsteps fade. You’re stunned, unsure of how to react. The fact that a few drops of blood roll down your cheek only makes things worse. Still, Bela managed to prevent you from getting too hurt, and the few wounds on your body are negligible. Ever filled with gratitude, you hold her close as you try to stutter out a few sentences.

“Is she always this hostile, or am I truly not what you had expected? No, pay me no mind, it hardly matters. Thank you for protecting me,” you whispered. In response, Bela gives you a little squeeze, then pulls back enough to wipe the blood from your face. There’s a hint of something odd in her expression, which you interpret to be related to her apparent ‘need for blood’. Thankfully, she is in perfect control, and does not frenzy the same way you had read about fictional vampires doing. But she does hesitate, words dying on her tongue, like there are a thousand things she wants to say, and no words to say them with. “It’s alright, my dear. Let’s just go to breakfast, like we planned, and hope your sister behaves better when supervised.”

Bela nods, quickly, before taking your hand in her own. Whatever awaited you in the dining room, the two of you would be ready. Hopefully.

[bookersebastien]

the little mermaid!au with quynh as ariel and andy as her princess (if you imagined the other way around it's cool too, i just think i need to send an ask to make you write). ily don't hate me 🥰

(asjkdsa i could never hate you, but i love how you send this to make me write it, a loving push if you will. but yes andy is the princess quynh saves for this ficlet, enjoy my love 💕)

the ocean cannot have you

She remembered the nights she used to come to the surface as a child, giggling with her sisters and making up stories about the constellations, telling strange tales about the humans that roamed the seas in their ships. It was all jokes then, about how they so desperately wished to travel the ocean yet with their legs it was impossible; Quynh felt a kinship with them, though she instead wished for legs of her own to explore the lands she’s only heard rumors about. 

Tonight she made her way to the surface again, her insatiable curiosity as a child had only grown and she made time to observe humans any chance she could, even if that meant skipping out on a few hours sleep. The water was cool and dark around her, comforting yet sometimes it felt as if the currents were pulling her back, ghosts of drowned sailors trying desperately to keep her in the depths, but the fresh air once she broke the surface was well worth any sleep she might be missing. 

The stars were bright tonight, not a cloud in sight, a smattering of diamonds scattered across a sky as dark as the sea itself; a shining, yet distorted, reflection, a world she knew and the one she wanted to get to know. 

It was a rare sight to see ships, she’d spent many nights, and what little daytime hours she could sneak away, waiting and watching the horizon for even the slightest peek at passing boats, the sight of their sails rippling in the wind always tugging at her sense of adventure, begging to be set free upon the world, face tilted up at the sun and feet on the ground. 

So tonight she counted herself lucky when a grand ship floated into view, the deck lit up with the soft glow of lanterns, the sound of voices and music carrying across the calm waters, the high tempoed beat accompanied by shouting and the rousing stomping of feet. She gazed up in wonder as it grew closer, eyes transfixed by the way the humans moved along the deck with ease, feet allowing them to hop and twist along to the music, she could see the instruments being played, things with strings whose sounds were earthy and bright, resonating deeply in the crisp air.

Cautiously she slipped closer, every warning about humans gone from her mind as she moved, utterly bewitched by the sight, the sailors faces plastered with wide grins and red cheeks as drinks were passed around, everyone taking large swigs from the bottles, not a glass in sight. Her eyes darted over to the corner of the ship, where a strange pile of objects lay and just as she wanted to move closer, a sailor came running over and picked up the bundle in his arms, words too slurred to make out from where she clung to the ship. 

Propping them up along the bow, she had only a second to peruse through some theories before a booming sound shattered the joyful noise of the party. She dove under the water, eyes wide and fingers clutching at the wood of the ship so hard she felt it scrape at her fingertips, her breath coming in short gasps until she glanced up, seeing the sky lit up in dozens of different colors spraying across the sky, no longer dark but now bright and vibrant. She had to cover her mouth to stifle the giggle that rose from her throat, watching on with glee as the colors reflected back onto the water, blending together with the soft movement of the waves.

She peered back at the sailors, finding her excitement nearly matched as they cheered, holding up their drinks, that then sloshed onto the deck, but none of them seemed to care. It was a moment before she realized it wasn’t the display of colors they were cheering, but instead a person who emerged from amidst the group, joining in on the revelry and Quynh suddenly felt as if the earth had stopped moving. 

The sight of the women before her caused her heart to flutter in her chest, a noiseless gasp escaping her lips. She was magnificent. She moved amongst the sailors with such an easy familiarity, dressed in slim black pants and a white shirt, that she could almost be mistaken for one of them, but it was her posture that gave her away. Quynh recognized the straight line of her shoulders and the slightest raise of her chin, she wore no clothing that revealed it, but Quynh knew she had to be royalty. And looking like that, she’d be hard pressed to find someone who disagreed. 

Her movements commanded every bit of Quynh’s attention, soft yet purposeful strides that took her across the deck, swiping a bottle from the hand of a sailor who was swaying on his feet and without missing a beat, tilting her head back and belting along to the next song the musicians started up. 

However, it was her eyes that had Quynh frozen in awe, lips parting slightly as she stared at their brilliant blue, putting any blue sky to shame the way they sparkled in the warm light. They held so much life, it was almost as if the entire sea itself was condensed into them, like the depths of the ocean, beckoning her into them, and Quynh had no desire to fight it.

She watched as she ran to bow, face painted with unreserved happiness, laughing into the wind with arms spread wide. Her reverie cut short as an older man rushed over to her, careful to pull her back from the edge with a disapproving glance, whispering something that made her pull a face at him before laughing and moving to grab hold of the ropes tied to the edge of the ship. Right next to where Quynh was hiding.

“Princess.” He sighed when she didn’t respond. “Andromache,” the man pleaded, “please be more careful.”

“Nothing is going to happen Charles, I just like the feeling of the ocean breeze.” She lifted her head then again, eyes closing while she took a deep breath and exhaled with a wild smile on her lips.

“Your father will not be happy that you didn’t take a liking to the prince.” His voice was more firm, but he made no move to grab her from the railing.

“Love cannot be forced.”

“Well it’s not always love that makes a marriage, you know.”

She looked back at him now, an unreadable expression in her eyes, before casting her glance back out to the sea; it was like she could see the very edge of the earth from where she was perched. “For me it is.”

Before he could say anymore, a flash of lightning shot across the sky followed by an angry burst of thunder that shook the entire sky. The ship trembling under Quynh’s fingers. It was barely a second before the full force of the sudden storm manifested itself on top of them, churning the dark waters, swirling dangerously and crashing against the ship with loud thuds.

Rippling in the wind, the sails flickered and snapped against the air, the crew scrambling to take them down, a sudden burst of sobriety overcoming them at the impending danger. She could do little but watch as the rain burst forth from the heavens, dark clouds releasing a torrent upon them, so heavy she could barely see in front of her. Everyone packed down supplies and took their spots across the ship, looking every bit like hardened sailors, faces moments ago laughing and singing now held determined stares and clenched jaws.. 

Andromache herself moved to the wheel, face hardened with a fierce determination as she gripped it tight and held it as steady as she could, her shirt soaked through and dark hair matted against her pale skin, arms straining with the effort to keep the ship upright. She stood tall against the wind, the look in her eyes could almost command the storm had she so desired, but in the end she was no match as a huge swell cascaded over the deck, dragging them off the ship with deadly swiftness, the boat groaning as it slowly tipped over into the water. Their screams cut off by the sounds of their bodies hitting the surface.

Quynh was thrown off the ship as it fell, hands scrabbling uselessly against the wood before she found herself underwater, watching as pieces from the ship hit the water around her; jagged pieces of wood and rope tangled together. Everything moved in slow motion for a moment, the debris sinking slowly into the ocean depths while she saw the crew members drag themselves to the surface, clinging to the pieces that managed to stay afloat, some scrambling into a small lifeboat a little ways away from her. 

The princess was nowhere to be seen among those resurfacing, and the pained expressions on the sailors faces as their eyes scanned the water in the darkness confirmed her fear. She was still under.

Plunging under once again, she swam closer to where the ship was rapidly taking on water, suddenly reminded of an old ship wreck she’d explored years before. Everything had been taken over by kelps and corals, it was no longer a ship, it didn’t hold the same sense of anguish that swimming through this wreckage did; the way darkness curled around it, it felt more like a graveyard than a ship.

The lightning was still visible from this far down, it reflected off the occasional bottle or scrap of metal each time it struck, flashing in the peripherals of her vision. Her stomach twisted as she pushed away debris after debris, movements becoming frantic, her body protesting as she pushed herself faster and harder through the wreckage, desperation growing until she finally saw it. 

Bright white, the sail was hard to miss, rippling and dancing along the currents, it would almost be beautiful if it wasn’t the thing dragging the princess to her death. Her face was deathly pale, eyes closed while the fabric pulled at her body like the hands of a vengeful ghost, determined for others to share the same fate at the bottom of the ocean.

Urging herself further, she carefully unwraps the canvas from her limbs, heart skipping a beat as her fingers brush over the skin of her neck, smooth and ice cold to the touch. Taking a deep breath, she ignores how her body feels against her as she winds her arms around her waist, hand clutched to the back of her head, threading faintly through the black strands, speeding towards the pale light that followed the now retreating storm. 

Quynh wanted so badly to stop, to tell the princess not to worry, that she would be okay, but with the way she hung nearly lifeless in her arms she knew she had to keep going, praying silently to every god she could think of, hoping the ocean could show its mercy this time. 

Time passed in a blur and soon a beach came into view, the warm colors of the sand a welcome break in the blue gloom that had settled in the sky, and she nearly cried in relief at the sight, gritting her teeth and pushing herself faster, ignoring how the princess’s clothes were weighed down by the water, instead just clutching her tighter and hoping she was fast enough. 

The sand was smooth under her fingers as they gently released the princess to the ground, rolling her onto her back. She tucked her tail underneath her, hands hovering in the air over her face, unsure what to do now that they’d reached land, chest tightening as she watched for any signs of life, soon finding herself admiring the sharp angle of her cheekbones and the fullness of her lips, the color slowly coming back with the return of the sun, the clouds now chasing the horizon line, the storm nothing but a distant haze in the sky. 

Everything was quiet, save for the sound of waves gently lapping against the shore and the sound of Quynh’s blood pumping in her ears, so loud she couldn’t even be sure she was hearing the waves at all. 

A startled shout left her lips when she saw the faintest rise of her chest, pressing her ear quickly against her and letting out a loud breath. Her heartbeat was there, soft and slow, fighting it’s way back and Quynh felt like she could finally breathe, letting her own heartbeat slow in time with the princesses. And for the first time she finally realized how long it had been since she’d left her home, her family was probably worried, the morning sky a pale blue, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave, not as she watched the princess, her hand trailing slowly along her cheek, admiring the slight movement of her eyelashes at her touch.

She leaned in closer, her words barely there as the breeze seemed to steal them from her lips. 

“Andromache,” she tested the taste of her name on her lips, reveling in the way it felt on her tongue, like honey and home, powerful like the sea but warm like the sand beneath her; it was almost like it belonged in her mouth, fated to speak it in this life or the next.

And just like that, her eyelids fluttered open, a brilliant flash of blue before she blinked the salt from her eyes, chest heaving as she took her first, full deep breaths. Quynh wanted so badly to rush closer, let her know the extent of her joy that she was okay, but quickly remembered herself and instead used the moment to slip back into the water, already missing the feeling of the warm breeze on her skin, the cold of the ocean not as refreshing as it once was. Now it stung, a reminder of what she couldn’t have.

She watched from a good distance away as a group of sailors, many of them she recognized as members of the sinking ship, rushed down the beach, screaming and shouting as they enveloped the princess in blankets, pulling her carefully to her feet. 

Just as she was propped up, the princess’s gaze once again found the horizon and Quynh dared to dream it was her she was looking for, and as she swam back into the depths she couldn’t help but wish it was her eyes she was lost in instead.

[thiswasinevitableid]

For the mermay fills: 10 & 22 with indruck? 👁️👁️ (nsfw or sfw)

I went with ten (tattoos/piercings) first, since 22 will be part of another fill. I went with NSFW, and wrote this as a follow-up to my “Heat” fill from last year.

Indrid swims up  and down the hall outside the palace infirmary. He’s far from the only one doing so; the reef serpent wreaked havoc through the city before the Chosen mers defeated it. He’s not even the only person waiting to see if Duck is alright.

“Have courage, Prince Indrid Cold!” Minerva, sporting a new gash on her face, clamps her hand down on his shoulder in what he knows is her version of a comforting gesture, “Duck Newton is the strongest Chosen after myself. He will pull through.” The blue of her tentacles flashes with pride. 

“Besides” Ned, the castle mer who has, against all odds, become Indrid’s closest advisor, flicks his orange and silver tail “you informed us yourself there were no futures where our friend passed away.”

“I know.” Indrid takes a breath, intending to explain the tangled net of anxiety in his chest. All that comes out is another, “I know.”

Behind him, he hears two nurses murmuring that they’d better bump the prince’s consort up in the line, but before he can turn and order them not to, they’re gone. 

It happened like this: Duck kept his word, began courting Indrid properly once the seer's heat passed, and Indrid reciprocated without hesitation. This caused a near scandal; yes, Duck was a Chosen and thus noble to a degree, but Indrid was a prince, and a prized one. Indrid pointed out that he rather liked someone who cared about his welfare, not just his happiness, and if they had an issue with that, that was their problem not his. And so the comments about Duck moved from to his face to behind his back, which he counted as good enough.

Duck found the whole consort business stressful, given that he’d forgone his Chosen destiny in favor of tending the kelp forests specifically to avoid that kind of fanfare and politics. Thus, they steered clear of the castle when they could, spending their time with their friends in town or in the sunken ship Duck called home. 

When the serpent attacked their town, Duck discovered the limits of his rejecting his destiny, and joined the fight to save his home. Indrid is proud of him, even if his stomach churns whenever the futures shift and he has to see whether the strings of fate weave a grimmer outcome for the man he loves.

It’s well after moonrise when he’s allowed to see Duck. The other mer is half-asleep in his infirmary bed, a massive bandage on his side and one of his tentacles bitten down to a nub

“Hey darlin” The sleepy drawl is accompanied by the mer opening his arms. 

Indrid carefully settles against the non-bandaged side of him, rests his head on his chest with a relieved sigh, “I’m so glad you’re alright. Or, well, mostly alright. You’re in one piece. Sort of. I, I’m not conveying this well.”

“I ain’t dead, given how today went I’m callin that a win. Besides, this’ll grow back in no time.” He wiggles the stub of his tentacle. 

“Mmm” Indrid cuddles closer, purring softly as intact tentacles pet his tail and back.

“When’d you last sleep?” Duck murmurs, kissing the top of his head.

“Not since the attack started.”

“Seems to me we’re both due for some shut eye.”

Indrid nods, right before falling asleep and dreaming of strong tentacles and stronger arms. 

-----------------------------------------

“Guess I gotta get a tattoo now.” Duck studies the scar on his side, his bandages having permanently come off this morning. 

“I suppose so. Though, if you’ve avoided so many other parts of Chosen protocol, I fail to see how skipping this one will make things worse.”

“I dunno, I kinda like this one. Used to strike me as macho bullshit, showin off how many battle scars you got. But now...makes me think of how when the forest gets trashed by a storm, or a huge-ass monster tearin through it, there’s a certain kind of pleasure that comes from watchin it heal, watchin it go from desolated and scarred to somethin beautiful.”

Indrid loves when he talks like this, smiles dreamily as Duck adds, “you could even design it for me. I’d like that.”

“I could do you one better; I could apply it as well. And since I foresee you asking yes, I do have the training to do so. Royal mers learn to tattoo themselves, due to rules about being touched by lower ranking mers that I judiciously ignored.”

“No kiddin” Duck grins, two tentacles coiling around Indrid’s tail, teasing the red stripe, “now that I’m healed up, gonna do all kinds of things to you to remind you why you ignored those rules in the first place.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you nervous?” Indrid finishes setting out his tools on the pristine table in his pristine chambers. He tends towards messiness in his habits, but when it comes to Duck’s health he’s cleaned the whole place by hand and with magic. Twice. 

“Nah, I know I’m in good hands.” Even as he says this, a burst of anxious yellow moves up his tentacles. 

“All the same, if you need a break at any point, let me know. And if the scar starts stinging or throbbing, tell me at once.”

“You got it, darlin.”

Indrid takes his time using a spell to transfer his design to Duck’s skin, double checking the placement before picking up the charm-powered tattoo gun. When finished, the tattoo will be a small forest of kelp, with the scar making up most of the body of the serpent swimming between the leaves. Six shades of green ink, three shades of brown, one shade of copper, and black for outlining, lay on the table, Indrid dipping into each of them in turn as he brings the image to life. 

“Love watchin you draw” Duck sighs, then shudders, “sorry, gettin a hell of an adrenaline rush from the pain.”

“Just try to stay still. If you twitch or fidget too much, it will cause mistakes on my end.”

“Do my best.”

“If you don’t, I’ll just have to tie you down.” Indrid says breezily. The tentacle near him pulses purple. Desire. Interesting. 

He’s most of the way through when Duck’s arms shake, his tentacles following suit, occasionally bumping Indrid’s tail or sides.. They’re small movements, all things considered, but in most futures they mean he has to re-do the entire last third of the tattoo. 

“Nono, this won’t do at all.” He set’s the gun down, flitting across to the closet near his bed. A sea-grass rope waits, right where he left. There hasn’t been much call for it, Duck capable of restraining Indrid in a variety of ways all on his own. 

“Now” Indrid bites off several lengths of rope, “since you cannot be still, I am going to tie your tentacles down. You’re to keep your hands where I put them, or I will tie them as well.”

Ducks tentacles are now deep, unflinching purple, “Holy fuck, ‘drid.”

“Just because I am generally submissive around you does not mean I’m not capable of giving orders.” Indrid smirks, tying the first two tentacles down.

“I, I know, it’s just  you, uh, you, you never talk like this.” Duck’s eyes are wide, excited even, as they track Indrid’s circular path. 

“I suppose you don’t hear me during advisory meetings, so this is a new experience for you.”

“Maybe I oughta start sittin in on ‘em.” Duck whines when Indrid kisses his cheek but refuses to stick around long enough for Duck to kiss him back.

“Perhaps. Right now, however, you are to sit still until I’m done with you. Understood?”

“Uh huh.” Duck smiles, docile and sweet, and Indrid wonders why they never thought to try this before. 

He returns to his work, inking colors into Duck’s skin, enjoying the intimacy of learning the familiar curves of his ribs and belly in new ways. At one point he notices Duck tensing and almost moving his hand, but the other mer catches it in time. 

“Good boy.” Indrid purrs.

“Fuck.” Duck tips his head back, “how much longer?”

“About ten minutes more, I’d say. You can manage it my sweet, you’re doing so well already.”

Duck whimpers low in his throat as Indrid goes back to his work. Exactly ten minutes later, he puts a protective covering atop the tattoo and pushes his supply table aside.

“There, all done. You did wonderfully.”

“Great, now untie me.” Duck wriggles hopefully.

Indrid raises an eyebrow, “In a hurry, sweet one?”

“Yes” Duck holds out a hand, trying to coax him closer. 

“Whatever for?” He replies airly, as if can’t sense the arousal pouring off his boyfriend in waves, “and stop moving so much, you’ll aggravate the tattoo.”

“‘Drid please” The folds between his front-most tentacles ripple as his cock starts emerging. 

“Oh I see.” Indrid swims so they’re face to face, pinning Duck’s hands to the back of the chair as he leans into his space, “you want me to fuck you, is that it? You’re willing to risk pain to new scar tissue, even marring my lovingly done work, just to have your cock played with?”

“Holyfuckinshit, why is this the first time you’re talkin like this?” Duck bites his lip with a little moan as Indrid rubs their cheeks together. 

“I don’t know. In hindsight, it seems so obvious; you’re my powerful, competent mate, you always take such wonderful care of me, but you want someone to take away that power from time to time, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Duck tips his chin up, hoping for a kiss, but Indrid floats backwards out of reach,

“What shall we do about that, hmm?” He swims a slow, tight circle around the other mer, staying just out of arms reach, “shall I keep you bound until the urge passes? No, that’s far too cruel for my beloved. Perhaps I should make you see to it yourself? But no, you might accidentally hurt yourself. Hmmm, what to do, what to do….” He taps his chin as Duck growls and whines, tentacles now straining against their bonds. Indrid knows Duck could snap them easily if he needed or wanted to. Which means he wants to remain at Indrid’s mercy for the time being.

“You do look wonderful like this. I didn’t even plan it this way, but how I tied you shows off most of your assets.” Indrid rubs the upper front of his tail, “now you’re getting me all wound up.”

“Good” Duck growls, tentacles swirling purple and pink. 

“Yes it, ahnnn, it is rather good, isn’t it. After all, I have the perfect solution to the situation sitting right in front of me.”

Duck’s cock is fully out, it and the slit beneath it tempting Indrid to abandon his plan. He swims in front of the other mer, eyeing his cock approvingly, “yes, you’ll do quite nicely.”

“Thank fuckOHfummmhp” Duck’s surprised moan turns to a laugh as Indrid, having zipped upwards in a flash, finishes shoving his cock into Duck’s mouth.”

“Yesss, ohyes, goodness I love doing this, you look so charming with your lips around my cock. Ah, ah, don’t you dare move your hands from the chair. This” he gives a sharper thrust, “is all I need to be satisfied.”

Duck moans louder, which Indrid takes as his cue to hold his head in place and fuck into his mouth with abandon. 

“That’s it love, that’s it, oh I ought to have done this months ago, tied my big strong hero down and reminded him of hisAHAnnn, his duties as consort.”

“‘M ot a ero.” 

Indrid looks imperiously down his nose at him, “It’s rude to contradict someone when they’re giving you what you want, my sweet. I guess I’ll need to render you further incapable of speech” He concentrates and extends his cock, a mechanism meant to ensure he can reproduce with mers of any size or genital configuration but that he uses only to make Duck groan with pleasure. 

His orgasm is already racing towards him, as it always does when Duck lets him (or orders him to) fuck his throat, and he shuts his eyes, concentrating on tight heat and the happy, muffled grunts floating up to his ears. 

“Just a little, nnnn, little more my sweet, let your prince ravish your throat a little longerOH, ohgods, Duck, sweetheart, yes.” He cums, a shudder rippling down his tail, and doesn’t pull out until Duck struggles to swallow the rest down. The other mer is still collecting his breath when Indrid wiggles down and pushes his tongue into his slit.

“Fuck!” Duck jerks hard enough to move the chair an inch to the right.

Indrid snickers, wraps both hands around Duck’s cock, stroking it hurriedly as he raises his head, “What do you say, beloved?”

“Th-thank you?” Duck cracks an eye open. Indrid nods, then dips his head back down to to suck and tongue at the senstive skin. 

“Fuckme, ohfuck, ‘Drid, darlin’, this is fuckin incredible, gonna, gonna be such a good consort, do whatever you say, fuck you five fuckin times a day, just, FUCK, just promise we can do this again.”

“Muv ourse.” Indrid thrusts his tongue deeper, twisting his hands on his upstrokes. The fourth time he does, he pops up to suck on the head just in time to catch Duck’s cum in his mouth. He takes his time, sucking him clean with happy trills and moans while his boyfriend utters curses that would make sailors blush.

He pulls away to wipe his mouth, intending to start untying Duck. The futures show that won’t be necessary, 

Snapsnapsnapsnap

The ropes break in pairs, rapid fire, and then Duck is on him, enveloping him in arms, tentacles, and love. He tries to press closer, then winces back, “owfuck, you’re right, the tattoo is real sore.”

“It’ll be that way for a few days. Your Chosen strength will help, but you should still rest when possible.”

“I dunno” Duck kisses him sweetly, then nips his lower lip, “you know how stubborn I can be. Might have to uh, tie me to the bed.”

“That, my love, can be arranged.”

[prismatales]

A thousand stars

Word Count: 1.6k

Bingo slot: Stargazing

Pairings: Midoriya Izuku x Reader

Tag/Warnings: Fluff, Soulmate AU, Aged up characters, Slight Mentions of alcohol.

Prompt: “Happy Birthday!” “It’s pitch black and I can still see you blushing.”

Synopsis: “Now I have the stars in the palm of my hands!” That bright, flushed smile as you squished his sparkly cheeks captivated the hero instantly, and at that moment he was certain of one thing.

Here’s entry number three for @bnhabookclub ’s bingo and celebrating deku events! I want to thank my friends @savagetrickster , @dragonhrte , @samanthaa-leanne , @hawks-senseis for helping me out with some ideas, and @fanfic-me-up for beta reading this for me!

Looking up at this vast, starry night reminded you of how big this world really was. Compared to the bright stars scattered across the wide, limitless sky, the both of you were seemingly like nothing but little specks of dust. 

Yet somehow, you were able to find each other amongst the billions of people walking around the earth.

Bodies snuggled together, craving for more of that soothing warmth that could only be offered by the one whom you shared this special bond with. Not even the heat of the bright bonfire eating its way through the wood, with sparks flying above it, could warm up your tangled bodies just as nicely as the male hugging you closer to himself.

“Did you ever think that we would be here?” Your fiance’s husky voice broke the comforting silence. Turninging slightly in place to look back at him, your questioning eyes begged for him to continue. “I mean, since I was a kid, I just…thought that after becoming a hero, I’d never have the chance to find my soulmate.”

His scarred hands encircled themselves around your sides, grasping tightly around your psyche. Izuku’s hold was practically desperate like he was fearful of letting go. Because in a way, he was afraid that this was all just a dream, too good to be true, and if he dared to let go, everything he worked so hard for alongside you, would end up disappearing into nothingness.

A soft, smaller hand laid over his own comfortingly. Making him look down at your hands. Even in the dark night, you both could still watch the bright glow coming from the red string bonding you together for life.

“And yet,” Your other hand caressed his cheek, bringing him closer to lay a soft peck on his freckles covered cheek, smooth lips lingering in place as he nuzzled his face gently against yours. “It was the very thing that brought us together in the first place.” 

You couldn’t help giggling tenderly by his displays of affection as he continued nuzzling your face, before kissing your shoulder delicately. A lot of people may not know this, but when both of you are alone, Izuku can be the most affectionate, sweetest guy to exist. You couldn’t have asked for a better soulmate than him.

Meeting your soulmate was a moment in life that neither of you would be able to forget. Not even once your memories eventually start fading with age, and the people may only remember Deku as a retired number one hero and previous symbol of peace. 

“Did you ever think that we would be here?” You asked softly, looking back at the black sky littered with thousands and thousands of never-ending stars “Camping together, cuddling under the stars as we celebrate the birthday of the greatest hero?” 

He shook his head in response, rocking your bodies together back and forth, thinking back to the time you guys met. A moment in life that he would always cherish since he never expected to meet you in the first place, but as always, fate usually has their ways of bringing people together.

Izuku would have never imagined meeting his soulmate in the middle of patrolling. The memory of the red string becoming shorter and shorter, pulling him forwards with great force, until it made him crash into a girl too busy running late for work, to notice the string on her pinky going in the same direction as her. Both groaned painfully when they fell down together, and papers flew everywhere around them.

You could still remember the way that red string tangled your bodies together, glowing brightly as it signaled the end of a search. Neither of you would stop staring at each other, or even bothered to get up as you greeted one another with a shy smile, and a breathless greeting as your hearts kept beating erratically with nothing but pure joy the moment you held hands for the first time. 

And I’m thinking ‘bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways

Maybe just the touch of a hand.

Oh me I fall in love with you every single day

And I just wanna tell you I am

Don’t get him started on the first time you spent the night together. He’ll always cherish the way you smiled at him as you held a glitter pen close to his face. An empty bottle of wine laid at the other side of the couch, along with a pair of empty cups. All ignored in favor of tracing inky, glitter-covered patterns all over his face, and laughing cheerfully at his flustered expression for having your bodies so close to each other. 

“Now I have the stars in the palm of my hands!” That bright, flushed smile as you squished his sparkly cheeks captivated the hero instantly, and at that moment he was certain of one thing.

He wanted to spend his whole life with you. Tracing galaxies all over each other’s skins, while laughing at nothing in particular...although that last one, was actually the wine’s fault. But he couldn’t complain if it meant seeing you having the time of your life with your beloved soulmate.

It made your one year anniversary just as magical as the day you met. 

When the day finally came, and he kneeled down in front of you, pulling out that golden band to propose under a starry night. That wide, euphoric and teary-eyed smile as you looked down at him, before tackling him down, all while yelling out “yes!” at the same time you began to blissfully kiss your now fiance, over and over again. 

It made it clear for Izuku, he knew it had been a decision he’d never come to regret as he laughed wholeheartedly by his soulmate’s euphoric attitude. 

So honey now

Take me into your loving arms

Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars

Place your head on my beating heart

I’m thinking out loud

Maybe we found love right where we are.

Now here you were, taking a break from everything and everybody a few weeks before the big day finally arrived. And what a better way to disconnect from everything, than to go camping together and enjoy one of the things that brought so much happiness to you both.

“Izuku?” Your voice snapped him out of his recalling, and he turned back to look at his dear, albeit worried fiance. “Everything okay?”

“Ah! Y-Yeah! Just, thinking about something!” He may be a grown man now. But Midoriya Izuku will always be that sweet, shy guys from his high school years. The same one that would always stammer whenever he happened to get lost in his own thoughts.

“Babe, It’s pitch black and I can still see you blushing.” He ignored your squinting with a burst of light-hearted laughter and intertwined your hands together. 

He brought them closer to his face, kissing the back of your hand softly, right above the finger where a small, red string was tied around the very same place where a gold ring, adorned with little stars signals for an upcoming future together, where you shall both live happily together.

“Oh! Right!” 

Untangling yourself from Izuku’s embrace -much to his dislike-. You crawled inside the shared tent and began rummaging through your bag in search of something. When Izuku saw you coming out of the tent with a wrapped gift in hand and a big smile, he couldn’t help looking at the gift in your hands with curiosity.

“Happy birthday!” 

When you gave him the box, he stared at it silently for a whole minute, before looking at you with a growing smile. Turns out the gift wasn’t actually wrapped, it was only a decorated box he opened easily. 

And when he saw his gift, it was like watching the same boy from high school that couldn’t help crying over the smallest gestures. 

Inside the box, laid an All Might hardcover notebook decorated with the words “Hero Analysis: Pro Hero Edition” in bold, metallic red lettering. 

He stared at his gift silently, finger tracing the white outline of the letters, feeling the texture of the leather, the material felt, and looked pretty expensive, almost like something only a professional would carry around.

Something a pro hero like Deku would carry around.

“Where did you get this?” He looked up at your cheerful, quiet self. Who only kept swaying from side to side with hands intertwined behind your back.

“I ordered it from a website that makes personalized notebooks! Your mom told me how much you adore All-Might related merchh, and I just happened to remember this site a friend told me about.” You sat down beside him, pleased by the way he looked at his gift with sparks in his eyes.

“Do you like it?” 

He looked back at you with small, happy tears prickling the corners of his eyes, which he quickly wiped away before they could fall on top of his newest notebook.

“It’s perfect.” His arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him as he gave the crown of your head another kiss in gratitude. “Just like you.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Once again, you snuggled closer to his body, lifting your head up to give your dear soulmate a kiss, that he happily returned with all of the love he had to give under the light of a thousand stars.

He couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your lives happily together, and being able to start a family with the one fate decided would be the right one for him. 

@bnha-ra @bnhabookclub @freckledoriya @gallickingun @godtieruwu @hanniejji @mysticalite @samanthaa-leanne @savagetrickster @shoobirino @songsforbnha @sugacookiies @t-amajiki @unbreakableeiji @wesparklebitch

[junhaoshua]

say my name like it’s something sacred

summary:  everyone is born with black words written on their wrist, the first words their soulmate would say to them, and the words turn red when you hear them. you’ve heard your words a dozen times, but they only turn red after you knock into a boy then run away. how are you going to find him again?

genre: fluff, soulmate au

word count: 2,506

A/N: happy birthday to the lovely chey of @soonhoonsol​!!!! she gave me two prompts: Soonyoung and World Toilet Day for her birthday fic. Chey, you’re wonderful and I’m so happy we’re friends, and I hope you like my take on your ideas ~ 

Everyone was born with black words written on their wrist, the first words their soulmate would say to them.

For some people, their words were delightfully straightforward. “Hi, my name’s so-and-so,” their soulmate’s name disclosed right there.

Some people had phrases that were so out there or so easy to misunderstand. One of your friends had the words “You actually like the devils?” on her wrist. She’d spent her teenage years hanging around screenings of soccer matches, only to hear those words from the older brother of kids she was babysitting.

And then there were phrases like yours. “Hey, it’s fine - are you okay?” Generic words, the type that you might hear a thousand times in your lifetime.

When you were younger, you’d checked your wrist every time you heard those words, hoping that this was your soulmate. The one who would make the black letters turn as red as the string of fate that tied you together. The one whose mark would appear below the words immediately after.

But it never came. The black writing still adorned your otherwise bare wrist.

---

“Alright, let’s have a ten-minute break before you start your groupwork,” your Visual Communications professor announces, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

Your two friends in the class, Mingyu and Minghao, roll their tables over to join you in the corner. “Finally, I feel like my brain’s going to short-circuit,” Gyu groans, tipping his chair to stretch out his long, long body and nearly overbalancing.

Hao grabs his hand before he can fall, glancing at you with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Mingyu,” he says, and even though there’s exasperation in his voice, he still says his name like it’s something sacred. It’s utterly romantic.

“Sorry, Haohao,” the older boy says with a grin.

You laugh at their couple-ness. “I’m going to stretch my legs, watch my stuff?”

“See you!”

You grab your water bottle and head out of the freezing room, appreciating the warmth of the outdoors. The water cooler’s at the end of the corridor, which will give you some time to bask in the sun.

As you approach the water cooler, bright yellow tape catches your eye. OUT OF ORDER, a handwritten sign says. Ugh. This is going to take a while.

Second floor cooler broken, you text your best friend Hansol as you head towards the stairs. His class is just a few doors away from yours, and you don’t want him to make a wasted trip.

He replies instantly. They said water supply in this wing has been cut for now? Burst pipe downstairs. Prof just announced.

You send him a frowning emoji and a sigh, before pocketing your phone and picking up the pace. 

It’s quite a walk from the east wing to the central block, and you let out a sigh of relief as a working water cooler finally comes into sight, taking a long drink of cold water before filling up your bottle. 

If you hurry, maybe you can make it back in time. So you turn to go, trying to screw the lid back on as you go -

- forgetting that the water cooler is right outside the toilet, which means that you only see the boy exiting the washroom when you run right into him.

Your open water bottle splashes on him, drenching his white t-shirt, and you fall on your butt. Hard. “Sorry! I’m so sorry!” you exclaim in mortification.

“Hey, it’s fine - are you okay?” he asks, reaching down to help you up, and for a moment his soaked t-shirt is in front of your eyes. Partially hidden by his black-and-orange jacket, but still, that’s a fine chest.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you grab your water bottle, averting your eyes. “I’m fine - I’m sorry!” you squeak, not daring to look the dark-haired boy in the eye.

Before he can say anything else, you turn tail and run back to your class.

You’re panting by the time you slip into your seat across Gyu and Hao. “Sorry for keeping you guys waiting.”

“It’s okay,” Minghao murmurs distractedly, tapping away at his phone. Gyu hums, and you notice he’s frantically texting too.

You turn your laptop on and pull up the files while waiting for them to finish. This isn’t really like them. Something must have happened.

Finally Gyu puts down his phone. “Sorry about that, one of our friends - oh my god you’ve met your soulmate!” he screeches, making most of the class turn to look in your direction.

“Keep your voice down,” Minghao chides him with a smack to the back of the head.

You slowly look down at where the long sleeve of your sweater has slipped down. The words are red. Red. And there’s a cartoony little sketch of an animal head on your wrist - the stripes suggest tiger, but the chubby cheeks and little ears look like a hamster.

“Where did you go? When did you meet him? Why didn’t you say anything?” Mingyu peppers you with questions in an excited whisper.

“I didn’t realise it,” you hiss back, as what just happened slowly hits you. “God - I ran into him, right outside the toilet - my soulmate’s gonna think I’m a huge klutz -”

“Outside the toilet?” Gyu parrots, his eyes wide. “That sounds like -”

Minghao slaps a hand over Gyu’s mouth. “Like you were really fated to meet, even at such an - interesting location. And he’s your soulmate. I’m sure he’s overjoyed to meet you at last.”

“But I didn’t even get a good look at his face,” you groan, covering your face with your hands. “He was kinda lean - black hair, striped jacket - but that could be anyone, how on earth am I going to find him - go to the Soulmate Registry saying oh hey can you ask if anyone bumped into a girl outside a toilet and got water splashed on them? Yeah, that’s my soulmate -”

Gyu looks like he wants to screech again, but Hao shoots him a glare. “If fate brought you to meet each other the first time, fate’ll make sure you meet again,” the boy says, giving you a gentle pat on the hand. “I met Gyu on his last day working at the bubble tea shop, and I thought I’d never find him once school started, but we ended up being introduced by our friends.”

You bury your face in your hands. “Can we get to work now?”

Thankfully, they drop the subject, and the rest of the time is spent working on your project.

“Gyu, you were supposed to ask her something,” Hao reminds him, as class ends and you all start packing up to go.

Mingyu snaps his fingers. “Right, I nearly forgot. You know the showcase that’s coming up?”

You nod. It’s part of being a college specialising in the arts. Every semester, they hold a huge event for the students to showcase their talent - art, fashion, photography, music, dance, et cetera. “You’re going for it?”

“A group of us are, actually. The rap crew, Hao’s dance crew, and Woozi’s vocal group - you know him, right?” 

Minghao facepalms at the question, and you let out a giggle. “You mean Hansol’s soulmate?” As if it was possible to forget the person your best friend was destined to spend his life with. The short, fiery older boy was a perfect counter to Hansol’s easygoing attitude.

Gyu lets out a bark of laughter as you head out the door together. “God, my brain isn’t working today. We’re going to audition for the showcase together, as one big group. And we were thinking that our application would look a lot cooler if we had a nice video - kinda like a trailer, something to show us off, three talented groups -” Hao coughs at the casual boast “-coming together.”

You nod slowly. “It’ll be a lot more interesting than taping your performance.”

“Great!” Gyu claps his hands. “So Hansol recommended you to the group as the best person for the job, and we’d love if you could help us make it!”

“What?” you yelp in shock. “I’m not that fantastic - Why can’t you or Hao do it?”

Minghao shrugs. “I’ve seen your work, you’re pretty good. And we can’t exactly film ourselves while performing, not if we want nice angles and closeups. You’d be a great help.” 

Warmth blossoms in your chest at the compliment, but you still have reservations. “But - I don’t know your theme, your concept -”

Gyu waves a hand. “That’s no issue, you can come down and watch us practice and help to think of a concept. Please?”

It’s impossible to refuse those huge puppy eyes. You let out a sigh. “I’ll come watch, and think it over, and decide whether or not I feel up to the job after that, alright?”

“Yes!” Gyu shrieks, making everyone look over at you again. “I mean - yes, that’s fantastic, we’re going to have a practice later and you can meet -”

“The rest of the group,” Minghao cuts in. “We’ll let them know you’re coming, it’s right after your last class with Hansol.”

---

After class, you pull Hansol aside. “Okay, spill.”

Your best friend blinks at you with wide eyes. “About what?”

“Gyu was practically bouncing when I agreed to watch you guys practice, and you’ve been shooting me looks throughout class. You’re up to something.”

He flushes. “It’s just… we haven’t let anyone else in to see us perform before.”

You eye Hansol. Part of growing up together is knowing exactly when the other person is hiding something. And everything about his too-wide smile is screaming I have a secret. He’s always been an atrocious liar. “Are all the others okay with it?”

“Yeah! Yeah, they are.”

You hum. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“It’s - no, not right now.”

You eye him for a moment longer, but he looks at you with the same fixed smile. Never mind.

“So… I hear you met your soulmate,” he says after a few moments of silence.

“I should’ve known those two wouldn’t keep it a secret.”

He grins. “It’s going to make a great story to tell people, you know. How many people can say they literally fell for their soulmate?”

“Outside a toilet,” you say, flushing at the memory. “And aren’t you getting a little ahead when I don’t even know his name?”

“Yeah, so all you need is to know his name,” Hansol says, shrugging. “You’re soulmates, the rest will sort itself out.”

“What if I’m not what he wants from a soulmate? What if he’s not what I want?”

Hansol glances over at you. “What do you want?”

You sigh, thinking back to your childhood imaginings, to what you’ve always imagined your perfect other half would be like. “Funny. Bright - I don’t mean like smart, though that’s nice, I mean his energy? Loud and enthusiastic, but someone who’s okay with just sitting back and being chill too, or it would be tiring trying to keep up with him. And he’s got to be kind, and wholesome, and gentle - someone comforting, someone good...”

Hansol’s grin has been slowly growing as you talk. “I’m sure he’s going to be all of that. He’s your soulmate, he’s going to be perfect for you. And you’ll be perfect for him.”

“But -”

“No buts, I know my soulmate, you don’t, I’m the expert here.”

...he’s got a point there, not that you want to admit it. So you change the subject to something useful. “Tell me more about the performance?”

By now, you’ve reached the door of the studio, and he pushes it open with a grin. “Why don’t you see it for yourself?”

“Hansol got you to come along!” Seokmin cheers as you come in, leaping up.

You laugh and give him a hug. “Just to watch. I haven’t promised anything yet.”

“You will,” Jeonghan says knowingly as you settle down on the floor, offering you a bag of snacks. “You won’t be able to trust anyone else to make a video that captures our magnificence adequately.”

You burst out laughing, but it’s true. You know all the people in this room, and you can already imagine how to show them off. Seokmin had been your friend since middle school, and you’d been there when he met his soulmate in the new transfer student, Seungkwan. The four of you had been inseparable since. And you’d known everyone in the rap crew since high school. The leader, Seungcheol, was one of the lucky few blessed with two soulmates, who just so happened to be the last two members of Jihoon’s vocal group - Jeonghan and Jisoo.

And that’s when it hits you. “What about the dance crew?” Minghao and Jun are conspicuously absent, and you’re fairly sure there are a couple of others you’ve never met before.

“On their way, Hoshi wanted to run the choreo by them one last time before meeting us,” Seungkwan tells you, taking a sip of his iced Americano.

“Hoshi?” you echo. “I don’t think I know him?”

Jeonghan smirks. “Oh, you’ll recognise him when you see him, I’m sure -”

“He’s their leader and choreographer, you must have seen him at last year’s showcase,” Jisoo chimes in.

“I was sick, remember? So I wasn’t there to support you guys.”

Wonwoo gives a little oh. “Well, that explains - but there’s him, and Hao and Jun, and their other choreographer Dino, he’s your age.” His gaze softens when he mentions his soulmate’s name, and you can’t help but hope your soulmate will look like that when he talks about you.

“Hoshi and Dino,” you repeat, the names echoing oddly in your mind. 

“Their real names are Soonyoung and Chan,” Jihoon clarifies. “Those two, one wants to rock the stage like a dinosaur, the other one thinks he’s a tiger -” he stops when Hansol nudges him.

Just at that moment, the door opens.

“Are you sure you can do it?” the one in front asks as he comes in, waving his hands around. “It’s going to look flashy, but if you get injured -” He’s walking backwards, slim and black-haired, wearing a jacket with black and orange stripes.

Your breath catches in your throat.

“I can do it,” Minghao says, exasperation in his tone. “It’ll make a great ending.”

“And you need to watch where you’re going,” Jun says, gently taking the boy by the arms and turning him around, giving you a broad wink over his head as he does so.

The boy stops short the moment he sees you, and when you lay eyes on his face, you know.

“Soonyoung?” you ask, caught between hope and yearning.

“That’s me,” he whispers. “Hi, soulmate.”

You tell him your name and he repeats it, the word falling from his lips like it’s something sacred. “I’ve been searching for you my whole life,” he murmurs, and at that moment, you feel something missing in your heart click into place.

Because you’ve finally found the person who’s perfect for you, and you’re perfect for him, too.

[watcher-ofthe-sky]

Pairing: Justice x Elsie

Summary: This universe binds Justice and Elsie together through a connection that runs in the very marrow of their bones; something which is stitched to the core of their existence. Like a collision, they will always be heading towards each other, no matter wherever they are. They are supposed to find each other; every atom of them reaching towards the other.

Read on AO3

***

There is something so frustratingly cruel about the destiny that makes Justice grit his teeth and stays awake at odd hours in the night, burning with hot, white anger. He silently curses the supposed powers of the cosmos in which you’re expected to surrender in because some of them are just beyond the control of any creature. 

Justice would have been just fine living without the knowledge of these forces. They can do their own business and not meddle in his life. That would have been great. Desirable. 

But it’s the derisive way in which the universe laughs and shakes its head. No. How could he possibly imagine escaping the clutches of it? This mocking universe is made of lines that criss-cross each other; threads and strings that start from one end and are stretched to the other which may not even be known. Justice would have liked that. The not knowing. He would have preferred the strings being tangled into a mess so deep that the knots would have taken eternities to be pulled apart. 

But it’s not the way the powers work. The encounter can be delayed, sure, but it’s destined to happen, no matter how different the circumstances are. 

He holds up his hand and looks at the thread knotted around his finger. 

  The Red String of Fate.

  He shuts his eyes and tries to forget its existence but the colour--the fucking colour fills his vision and he can’t help but see the crimson flooding everything. He achingly wishes to forget what comes with it. Because it is the vision of hair of the same colour. A laughter rich and bright. Love that was once so warm and tender but only turned into fire and pain that now runs through his vain.

  Elsie Crimson. 

  The bane of Justice’s existence. 

Once again fled from their reach.

Justice clutches his sheets tighter, he is aware that his ether gear is fuming but he couldn’t care less. He was so close to catching Elsie and yet the woman managed to escape again.

  “Justice,” she had whispered, her face so close to his. He was twisting in the cuffs that she had put on him, working his way out. He was almost there.

She was smirking. The fucking woman was smirking and that only made his blood boil. 

“We keep running into each other again and again,” she said. His eyes trailed the Red String tied on her finger.

  The string that connected her to him.

The string that connected him to her.

The string that connected them.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “This one will be the last time.” The back is going to arrive soon and he has almost worked its way out of the cuffs anyway. 

Elsie laughed. Once this laugh used to make his heart clench. Now it only rages him. “You have always been a bit delusional. But you’re right. These encounters have become too frequent to my liking and I would like to have some peace for me and my crew.”

“You took away everything from me,” he spat, every word filled with overwhelming anger and hatred. “Someone like you does not deserve peace. Ever. And I will make sure of it.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, the amusement from her face slowly fading away, only to be replaced by apathy. She pulled herself back and stepped away from him. 

A silence stretched between them. 

  “You know,” she said, at last, her eyes looking away with a distant look. “I have always wondered if there was another life where this,” she held her hand up and gestured to the red string, “--didn’t weigh so heavy. Where,” her gaze met his and she smiled softly and in that moment, everything around him stilled, “--we meant something to each other. Where our love would have been something softer.”

She averted her eyes again and Justice stared at the ground. He swallowed and to his own surprise, he said, “All of that could have been possible in this life too. But you blew it all away.”

  She looked at him with widened eyes and it seem as if she wanted to say something but all he could think was the emptiness that was left in the aftermath, and then suddenly, that emptiness was replaced by the bitterness which fueled him to move forward. He composed himself back again and in the flash of the memories filled with rage, he clicked open his restraints and seethed, “All of this ends today.”

But in the same exact moment, it looked like she too snapped out of the reverie of the past and smirked at him, her eyes glinting with the challenge. “Aww, but they have worked so hard in setting the ammunition. I can’t let it go to waste.”

  When he looked up, her ship was hovering low in the sky, the bullets of ether pouring down from them like a rain of fire.

“ ELSIE! ” he shouted, launching himself forward towards her but she already gone behind the smoke and the dust screen.

“Don’t be sorry,” he heard his voice from the distance. “You know we will meet again, Justice.”

  Justice sits up and then slides down the bed, making his way to the balcony. From the window, he stared at the infinite void in front of him. The massive stars and the spiralling galaxies. 

This universe which is boundless, which harbours life in the corners that are still unknown. It should be so easy to get lost in this sea and never cross paths again. After all, how many people do we meet daily and never see them in our lives again? It should be easy to get lose yourself in the grid, be a coordinate who is insignificant enough to be never traced.

And yet, this universe binds Justice and Elsie together through a connection that runs in the very marrow of their bones; something which is stitched to the core of their existence. Like a collision, they will always be heading towards each other, no matter wherever they are. They are supposed to find each other; every atom of them reaching towards the other.

He curls his fist and swallows thickly. 

  In another life.

  Maybe in another life things would have been different. Maybe they wouldn’t be at each other’s throat and none of them would have been a criminal. Maybe there they have found the warm and soft corners of each other and their love would have stayed.

He wonders if this will always be like this. This Red String of Fate which is woven into the fabrics of the universe guiding them to each other in all the lifetimes. Whether both of them are always meant to be in the same story.

  “Yes,” he says out loud, his eyes determined. “We will meet again, Elsie.”

[mysticalandenchanting]

Sui Generis

Summary:

Azriel is brooding. Luckily a certain someone comes along to to pull him right out of it. And maybe also turn his whole life around and make him doubt everything. Oneshot.

~~~~~

AN: This is a concept I had for Elriel that practically wrote itself. Minus a couple hours. Please let me know what you think!

~~~~~

Azriel

For hundreds of years I have loved the same female. I thought that no one could possibly compare to her and even though nothing has ever come from it—as I knew nothing ever would—I continued to love her anyway.

I didn’t mind. Loving Mor was easy, had always been. She was always so strong, righteously good, and radiant in a way that I couldn’t forget. She would always be someone that I looked up to, admired.

I had wished a million times that there would be moment that we shared, a moment so pure and affectionate that the mating bond would snap into place. But it never did.

Me and Mor had our moments over the years but nothing so absolute to convey what I felt for her, or any indication that she felt 100% the same.

That's all that I wanted.

Perhaps that was all that she wanted as well, a mating bond to signify something so permanent and whole that she would never have to look again. Something worth waiting for.

If that were the case, then she wouldn’t settle for anything less and I couldn’t blame her for that— even if I was less.

“Azriel?”

I looked up from my perch by the front window, my shadows dispersing as I realize they almost fully encompassed me. I had lost myself in thought in the quiet of the house after everyone had left, Feyre and Rhys retiring for the night and Cas and Mor leaving to go to Rita’s. I had refused the invite not feeling up to it, one of the very few times I had actually done so. They hadn’t batted an eye, though, before they left arm in arm.

Now Elain stood before me with a curious look on her face, still waiting for me to respond.

I cleared my throat, a little unnerved to be caught so red-handedly brooding by myself staring after where Mor and Cas had left.

“Yes?”

“Are you alright?” She asked affectionately.

“I’m fine,” I nodded to her in assurance and thanks, “ just a little lost in my thoughts.”

“Anything that you would want to talk about?”

I thought about it as she stood across from me with a look of genuine interest. Elain and I had become good friends over the past couple of months. I liked her. She was kind and sweet.

She had gone through a lot this last year with being forced to turn fae, given the gift of sight, immediately mated to a male, her engagement being broken, kidnapped, and even having to stab someone. And through it all she was still just as caring.

I hadn’t exactly confided in her about my situation with Mor and a plenty other things but she was easy to talk to and I had found myself on many occasions telling her about myself. It was as refreshing as it was unsettling. I was a spy and a shadowsinger after all, keeping to myself was second nature.

Elain was confusing in that way, in that she was easy to be around and talk to and yet there were moments I had nervously second guessed myself in how I should act toward her. Like when I had struggled for days on whether I should respect her privacy when Lucien first came to Velaris or even when I had debated whether or not to get her a Winter Solstice gift to the point that I had straight up asked Rhys about it. A decision I had regretted after the absolutely perfect gift she had given me that still brought a smile to my face months later. “I’m not sure I would be good company tonight,” I admitted.

“I’m sure you would. You have always had a certain gravitas to you that I have liked.”

Fondness surged through me as I smiled and gestured to chairs by the window.

“So what is on your mind tonight?”

I debated telling the truth, wondered if she had already guessed. When it came to Mor, I couldn’t always be as level-headed as I would like.

“I was actually thinking about the mating bond.” I leaded.

Her eyes widened in surprise at my admission, “And what about it?”

“If I would ever find it. Them.” I looked out the window again, toward Mor and to avoid eye contact.

“Do you want to find it?”

I look back to her, hesitating, but unable to stop the answer coming from my mouth, “Yes.”

Somehow admitting it out loud felt like a relief, like a small weight off my shoulders. It wasn’t something I could so easily admit to Rhys or Cas or any of the others.

“What is it like?” I continued. I knew this wasn’t a pleasant topic for Elain and that she would not understand my longing for something that had been forced onto her but I was curious.

“Its…” she started, looking to me, knowing I would want an unbiased answer, “It’s like a tether tied from you to them. A constant awareness that they are out there and urge to pull the tether closer when they’re far away. Yet, at the same time, it’s so subtle that it can be easy to forget about it. I imagine it's what it's like to forget what it is to be by yourself with no one knowing where you are after you’ve spent so much time in the presence of others.”

“After 500 years, I’m sure I have experienced that feeling at some point.”

She looked at me thoughtfully, “Why do you want the mating bond?”

“I suppose it’s part of being fae, to want that experience of finding your other half. To know who you're supposed to be going through your long life with.”

She makes a skeptical face at that, “That there is someone who will understand and love every aspect of you and leave you without a doubt about it.”

“I don’t imagine it being like that with Lucien.” She admitting, not entirely understanding as she brushed a golden brown lock from her face and tucking it behind her ear and leaning forward in her chair.

“Yeah sure, I know there are good and bad experiences with the mating bond but it’s suppose to be an admission of fate.”

She smiles, “You mean like Feyre and Rhys.”

“Like Feyre and Rhys.” I admit, reluctantly smiling back. They were a perfect example of what the mating bond was suppose to be. And to have that so near had prickled at how much I had wanted that. I sighed.

“If you hadn’t been matched with Lucien when you had been, would it have been something that you would have wanted?” I asked, to distract myself by how immeasurably far I was from having the bond myself, especially with the female I wanted.

Elain took a second to think about her answer, brushing her hands down the skirts of her dress to smooth them out. She looked as elegant as she always did with her cream colored dress that was overlaid with an intricately detailed lace and only accessorized with a string of pink pearls around her neck. Her hair lay wavy with loose braids tying back the fronts of her hair. It always amazed me how we must look together, like polar opposites, light and dark, night and day, and yet there were many ways that we were similar.

“I think,” Elain started, finally gathering her thoughts, “that If I could have chosen, then I wouldn’t want the bond at all.”

I lifted my eyebrows, a little astonished. Maybe not so similar.

“I’m sure Lucien is a good male and he has put in an effort to try and get to know me and I know it has bothered Feyre to no end that I wouldn’t give him any sort of chance, but… it’s just not what I want.

“I truly loved Graysen and I thought he truly loved me as well and it had hurt a lot when he had turned his back on me, but I’m grateful now. It took some time but it made me see in a way that I wouldn’t have seen for many years otherwise that he didn’t love me the way that I want to be loved.

“And with Lucien, I don’t know if there could have been something there or not but whatever might have happened was ruined by the bond to where I know he couldn’t have loved me the way I want.

“I want to love and be loved so purely and wholeheartedly that nothing could ever come between us, no circumstance, no obstacle. What I want is something stronger than the mating bond. Something built from nothing because there is a beauty in the choice and a power in the unconditionality of it all.

“And whoever that is for me, I won’t need a tether to tie me to them, to make me constantly aware of them and always want them closer.”

She finished with a small smile and a look of wishful contentment in her brown eyes.

I felt like I couldn’t breath and that something had definitely lodged itself in my throat. Also at some point my heartbeat had started picking up and was ready to jump out of my chest, it was hammering so hard.

Every word she had said had burned its way in my mind, leaving me feeling utterly stunned. I didn’t know what to say, what to feel, what to do.

A slight blush spread to her cheeks as she looked down, probably because I was gaping like a fool, “I’m sorry, I’m just spouting off about my beliefs on love.”

I coughed lightly and swallowed trying to free my throat but my voice still comes out quiet as raspy, “No—no, It’s uh… It’s okay.”

“It’s getting pretty late, I should go to bed,” she rises from her seat smiling sweetly, “Thank you for the good company.”

“Goodnight, Elain,” I watch her every step across the room and up the stairs until she rounds the corner out of sight. I let out a breath of air that I hadn’t realized I had been holding as I slouch back in the chair crushing my wings slightly.

I sat there for quite some time more, although, while before I had stared out the window, deep into the night, now I sat and stared at the staircase.

Something about what she had said had resonated with me so deeply that I didn’t quite understand what it was. I wanted to though. 

I wanted to understand why my heart was still racing, why I couldn’t seem to stand just yet.

Whatever I was feeling at the beginning of this night was long gone. Elain had banished it as easily as if she were just plucking weeds out of the garden.

She had also planted something there too, while she was at it. I wondered what it would bloom to be.

[azulsartdump]

SO @r0setarts and I were talking about soulmates in our DMs, and she may or may not have punched me in the gut with this premise while we were doing that. It’s another long one, so buckle up y’all.

“It’s coming up,” Lilia popped one of the cookies from the cooling rack into his mouth. He had happened upon Azul after she had taken her latest confections out of the overn and stopped to chat. “You can feel it, can’t you?”

The blue-nette paused, placing the piping bag filled with red icing down as she leaned over the table. She held her head in her hands, fingers smoothing over her forehead as she laid her elbows on the counter.

“I know,” Azul’s eyebrows furrowed as she spoke. “It’s tomorrow, right?” Lillia nodded and hummed in affirmation.

Soulmates. They very much did exist in the world of Twisted Wonderland. The red string of fate was something tangible that many fae and talented magicians could see and hold. There were even some fae that specialized in reading the souls of others and were able to guide them to their soulmates. It happened every few decades, that the moons and planets would align just right and beings with high amounts of magic flowing through them could see the string that connected them to their destined one.

Even Azul had held her red string of fate at one point, and she had watched as it disintegrated before her eyes. It had been over a century since she’d last seen the thin red strand wrapped around her finger. She could feel every time the strings would be visible, and every time she had been disappointed to wake up and see her hands empty. 

“Are you going to look for them this time, Lilia?” Azul pushed herself off the counter and continued to decorate the cookies she had made.

“Mmmmm, nah,” Lilia waved his hand. “We’ll find each other eventually, there’s no rush. I have all the time in the world.”

The dragonfly faery silently nodded in acknowledgement at his response. It was the answer he had given every time she asked, but she always did anyway out of courtesy. Lilia had always been the type to let fate run its course, after all.

“How about you?” the ancient faery returned her question. “Will you go look for them if it appears this time?”

Azul’s eyebrows furrowed again. Normally she would have said yes in a heartbeat. To have the chance to see them again. The chance to discover what kind of person they had grown into in this life. The chance to fall in love wholeheartedly again. It was something that would have seemed insane for her to pass up on.

The situation was a bit different this time, though. Now, she had Riddle, and she loved him more than words could describe. That was the case with fae in general. When they love, they love deeply and passionately. So if she was granted her soulmate again, she really didn’t know what she would do.

“I don’t think it’ll happen, Lilia,” Azul placed the last cookie on the plate and put it in the refrigerator with a small note taped to it that read ‘If you eat these, I will find you. - Azul <3′ “It’s been a century since the last time mine appeared.”

And for the sake of Riddle’s heart, she hoped it would stay that way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Azul woke up the next morning to a gentle tugging on her hand. She groaned, cracking an eye open to look at her clock. It was 5:00 AM. Much earlier than she would have normally chosen to wake up. As she peeked down at her hand though, a wave a dread washed over her. A thin red string was tied to her pinky. It led to her door, pulled taut and tugging at her hand gently as her soulmate moved about.

‘They must be quite the early bird,’ Azul found a small smile creeping onto her face that she quickly wiped away. Of all the times it could have happened, the universe thought it appropriate to return her soulmate once she had accepted the reality of the chances of them meeting again being almost nonexistent. Azul cursed herself as she rose from her bed. She was much too anxious to try to fall asleep again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They attended Night Raven College, she had confirmed. The string changed its angle too much for them to be any farther than somewhere on the island and was usually pointed in the opposite direction of the Royal Sword Academy. As such, she’d opted to avoid them as much as possible, walking in the opposite direction of wherever her string pointed. 

It was something she couldn’t help, she knew. Azul wasn’t ready to face them, though. It had been decades since she’d last happened upon their soul, and she had no idea what kind of person they were in this life. On top of that, she had no idea how she was going to bring this up to Riddle. He would most definitely be heartbroken to hear that her soulmate was someone else.

Upon returning to the dorm, Azul found Lilia staring at his hand in a bit of a daze. A content smile had settled on his lips as he watched his hand twitch, and she assumed it was because he was watching his soulmate tug at their string as they went about their day. 

As she retrieved the in-tact plate of cookies from the refrigerator, the sound of the appliance’s door closing snapped Lilia out of his stupor. He opened his mouth to greet the dragonfly faery, but stopped when he noticed her pinky twitch in a bit of an unnatural way. Azul clenched her fist and tried to ignore the feeling of her string being tugged as Lilia slowly pieced the situation together.

“Do you know who they are?” he excitedly asked. Upon noticing the frown that grew on her lips, though, Lilia paused the eager swinging of his legs.

“No,” Azul answered flatly. “They go to NRC, though.”

“Are you going to look for them?”

Azul silently shook her head in denial. The ancient faery could tell it bothered her, but he chose not to speak about the matter any more as Azul bid him a quick goodbye.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was absolutely no way this was happening to her.

As Azul stood before the front door to the Heartslabyul dorm, her red string stretched ahead of her, almost challenging her to walk through the gates. Of all the dorms her soulmate could be in, to be in the same dorm as Riddle was just rubbing salt in the wound. She supposed, though, that she’d have to face them eventually. After taking a moment to steel herself, entered the dorm, ready to inform her partner of the situation at hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As she entered the garden, she happened upon Trey who was placing a finished tart onto one of the tables. 

“Ah, Azul, welcome back,” Trey raised a hand and waved to her. Azul imitated, flashing a smile at her fellow third year.

“What’s up Trey?” the faery handed him the plate of cookies she had prepared and he placed it down next to the tart. “Where are the others?” 

“Ah, well about that,” he fiddled with the brim of his hat as he spoke. “There was a bit of an issue with Ace and Deuce in the kitchen, so Riddle’s in there with them making sure they clean everything properly.”

“I see,” Azul let an exasperated sigh. “I’ll go make sure they’re okay then.” Bidding a quick goodbye to Trey, she took the familiar path to Heartslabyul’s kitchen, taking note that her string led her in the same direction.

Upon arriving, her brows furrowed as she debated whether or not to enter. Her soulmate was in that room, and while she had prepared herself to talk to Riddle, she hadn’t expected to meet her soulmate before she did. She didn’t get much of a choice, however, as the doors to the kitchen opened on their own.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson this time,” Riddle reprimanded the two first-years that sullenly followed him. Ace and Deuce responded unenthusiastically, but what they said was all but lost to Azul as she stared at the red string tied to the second-year’s gloved finger.

It felt like the weight of the world had suddenly been lifted from her shoulders, and Azul found it difficult to stand with her knees suddenly giving out from underneath her.

“Azul! Are you alright?” Riddle rushed forward, concern lacing his voice as he knelt in front of her.

“Ha... Haha!” Azul could feel tears of relief pooling in her eyes. She gently took his hand in her own, flipping it over again and again just to confirm what she was seeing was real.

“A-Azul?” Riddle placed his other hand on her shoulder, a bit confused by her odd behavior.

“Thank the Great Seven it was you,” Azul’s voice was nothing but a whisper as a flood of emotions mixed inside of her. “You came back like you promised.”

[jiminisjamin]

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Female Reader

Rating: Angst (with fluff sprinkled in)

Warnings: Major angst, fluff, suggestive content/language, language, mentions of alcohol, major character death, mild-violence.

Summary: All her life y/n has watched her friends find their soulmates; it always seemed to happen by chance, something indescribable telling them they needed to go to the store right now- a gut feeling that led them to the person they were meant to share the rest of their life with- and y/n had never met her perfect half. She was starting to lose hope when she was walking through the halls of her new college, only to be drawn to a haunting, dark, and lonely melody.

AU: Soulmate (I don’t know if this is an AU that’s out there already but I thought of it so to explain it briefly; every decision you make is leading you towards meeting your soulmate, every decision you make, everything you say, leads you to eventually cross paths with your soulmate. When you meet your soulmate, your heartbeats link together, as your lives are inherently tied together in general. [I guess you could kind of think of it like the red thread of fate]).

A/N: So yes the poem in the very beginning is Sonnet 116, and like I kept all the original grammar and capitalization and everything but I took away the line breaks (I’m sorry at the time I’m making this its way too late for me to think for proper names).

Word Count: 2,469

Song: Maybe We’re Meant To Be Alone (Bad Suns)

 “Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove.”

A door swings open, the creak thundering through the silent halls. The man keeps his head down, ducking it slightly and shrinking in on himself, pulling his hoodie tighter around himself, a low moan falling past his lips as he clutches at his side. His hand quickly become soaked, sticky with his own blood as he stumbles, falling against the wall leading down the thin hall that seems to stretch for miles in front of him. He opens his mouth to shout, but before he can, the same door swings open, and he stumbles forward, not bothering to look behind him as multiple footsteps echo behind him. They’re not rushed- but calm and uniform, slowly shadowing his own erratic steps as his voice gets lost in his throat, unsure of where he to turn next. Without much thought, his feet carry him down a path he’d gone so many times he could do it in his sleep. His hand grabs the handle, staining it red as he pulls down and pushes the door with his shoulder, collapsing into the room. He just barely catches himself with his hands, kneeling in the middle of the room, gasping hoarsely as he falls to his side, his eyelids slowly lowering as he hears the door open slowly. His gaze raises to the door, briefly noting the figures standing at the door, watching him as his chest rises and falls with each jagged breath, his hand shaking slightly, lips parting slightly to let out a low gurgle. The sound is disturbingly human and inhuman all at once, the vague shape of a word forming beneath the blood that trickles out the side of his mouth, staining his teeth, his lips and face, dripping onto the rough, unforgiving tile underneath him. His eyes turn from them, wandering mindlessly as he continues to murmur incoherently.

And then it stops. His hand, his pleas, his pained gaze glazing over as his last action turns them towards the center of the room before stilling, his mouth parting slightly wider as the last breath trembles past his lips. With that, their rapid footsteps can be heard as they quickly exit the building, their presence barely missed by the guard that strolls down the hall, shining the light down to the slightly ajar door, sighing as he curses to himself, mumbling about kids never closing up behind them, he moves forward, reaching out and grabbing the handle only to shudder and pull his hand away, the flashlight dropping to the ground as he stares down at the red stain that coats his palm. He shouts out, the words echoing down the halls when he looks up, his gaze falling on the slumped figure laying in the middle of the room. As he movies forward, he leans next to the boy, his hand landing on his shoulder as he shakes him gently, growing more rapid as he doesn’t respond. He shouts out again, finally gaining the attention of his coworker who runs down towards the rolling flashlight, pushing the door all the way open as she looks down, her jaw dropping. She picks up her phone, dialing the police as a string of curses falls past her lips.

“O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand'ring bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.”

Police and paramedics file in, their eyes immediately landing on his body as they quickly get to work, pushing the security off to the side as an officer moves forward to begin interrogating them.

“Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come;”

The paramedics make quick work of getting his body into the ambulance, rushing him to the hospital as police stay, closing off the entire hall as they began searching for any signs of evidence.

“Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.”

They scour every inch of the building by the end of the month, but are unable to find anything leading to who murdered him- not even finding anything leading to a potential motive. Although, they missed the most important clue- off in the far corner of the room, he was overlooked: crouched in the shadows, shrunken in on himself, he kept his head down, eyes closed as he willed the sight in front of him to go away, unable to continue to watch them scramble, he stayed there, waiting.

 “If this be error and upon me prov'd, I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.” Y/n looks up at her friends, watching their expressions carefully to gauge their reactions. Namjoon nods, his eyes widening slightly as he hums.

“So, why are you reading this to us?” Y/n pauses, biting her lip as she stares down at her phone.

“I like it,” she murmurs, smiling up at them. “You know, Joon, I think I’m gonna meet him this year.” She nods to herself, smiling slightly.

“Shakespeare?” Namjoon groans, slapping his boyfriend’s arm.

“Not the time for jokes, Jin.” Seokjin looks at y/n and grimaces.

“Sorry, y/n.” She waves her hand dismissively, staring out the window as the bus slows.

“It’s fine. I just…I have a good feeling about this college, you know? Out of all the ones I could’ve gone to…this feels right. You know?” Namjoon’s expression shifts to an awkward smile.

“Y/n…not to be negative, but isn’t this the only college that accepted you?” Her gaze snaps to meet Namjoon’s as the bus comes to a stop, and she laughs, nodding.

“Yeah, it is. If that isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is.” She stands up, slinging her bag over her shoulder and dashing to the doors. “Come on guys, don’t want to be late.” Seokjin frowns, watching as she gets off the bus and practically dashes into the building.

“Were you this excited for your first year of college?” He asks Namjoon, reluctantly gathering his things and joining his boyfriend in the aisle as they walk in line with the rest of the passengers needing to get off. Namjoon shakes his head, glancing over his shoulder.

“She’s not excited for school, I don’t think. I think it’s more of the people, you know?” Seokjin nods, smiling slightly.

“Still hasn’t found hers?” He shakes his head, slinging his duffel over his shoulder. “Poor kid. Almost everyone has their soulmate by now.” Namjoon nods, shrugging slightly as he stretches, stepping onto the concrete below them.

“I’m sure she’ll meet them.” He looks down at the ground, his eyebrows furrowing as he looks back to the building. Seokjin reaches into the compartment under the bus, unloading his suitcase, looking around for Namjoon’s as well. “Hey, Jin,” He takes his bag from him and they move forward.

“Yeah?” Seokjin asks, shifting closer to Namjoon and grabbing his hand as he looks away, ignoring Namjoon as he smiles at him. Before Namjoon can continue, they both stop, watching y/n sprint out of the building, her eyes slightly wide as her bag drops from her hands, panting as she crouches in front of them for a moment.

“Did,” she wheezes, placing her hand on her chest and frowning as she takes a second for some deep breathes before continuing. “Did either of you grab my suitcase?” Namjoon frowns.

“Did you not get it?” Her jaw drops open as she watches the bus pulling away and she raises her hand to point.

“H-hey,” she starts waving, pushing past the pair as she resumes running. “Hey! Wait! You have my suitcase!” They turn, dumbfounded as they watch her chasing the bus down, waving her arm in the air frantically.

“Well…” Seokjin looks over at Namjoon. “I mean, I’m sure she’ll catch up, right? And we don’t want to be late to our lecture…right?” Namjoon frowns, watching as the bus’ lights come on a few blocks away, and he shrugs.

“It looks like it’s stopping anyways. We’ll catch up with her later at her dorm. Most of Y/n’s classes are at night, anyways.” Seokjin grimaces.

“She took nighttime classes?” Namjoon nods. “Why would she do that?” Seokjin glances behind his shoulder as they turn, heading towards the campus building.

“I don’t know. Something about how her sleep schedule would fit better to them anyways?” Namjoon shrugs, waving his hand. “I’ll text her once we’re done with classes.”

Y/n doesn’t notice as the two walk off, her sights set on the bus. She catches up and the doors slide open and she climbs on, taking a moment to catch her breath in-between explaining, “I’m sorry. I left my suitcase- could I just?” The bus driver shrugs and she moves forward quickly, avoiding the eyes of annoyed passengers as she grabs her bag from her no longer empty seat. She ducks her head and turns quickly, sprinting off the bus and clutching her suitcase to her chest, holding onto her bag tightly. She moves forward quickly, her mouth dropping open when she notices Namjoon and Seokjin had left her. Y/n shakes her head and pushes forward, shoving the door open and stumbling through the doors. She curses, setting her suitcase down and pulling the handle up.

Y/n curses, looking around to try and find someone nearby to ask for directions to dorm-housing. She chews her bottom lip, pulling her phone out and glancing down at it, typing her password in and sending a quick text to Namjoon.

Y/n: Hey, do you know where dorm housing is?

She puts her phone back in her pocket, sighing as she moves forward slowly. Her gaze scans the seemingly impossibly empty building and she groans, moving towards the first hallway that she sees. She pauses for a moment, her eyebrows furrowing as she leans forward, glancing down a dimly lit corridor. She huffs, letting go of her suitcase and pulling her phone out, glancing down at it and opening up her messages with Namjoon. “Ugh. He hasn’t even read it yet.” She frowns, putting her phone away and grabbing her suitcase.

Before Y/n can turn around and look for someone to help her, she hears a soft, dark tune echoing down the halls. Her heart leaps into her throat, and she moves forward quickly down the corridor, the old, fluorescent light flickering above her as she does. “Hello?” She calls out, moving more cautiously now as the lighting is dimmer and the sound of the piano grows louder. “Hello? Is anyone there? I’m a little lost…um…it’s my first day here?” She bites her lip, noticing a slightly ajar door near the end of the hallway. She takes a deep breath and steps forward. “Hello?” The song comes to a sudden stop and the door creaks slightly as it slowly begins to close. Y/n scoffs, pushing forward and swinging the door open. Her gaze falls on a rather pale figure sitting at the piano, hunched over the keys in a suit far too large for him, deep red tie slung over his shoulders.

Y/n clears her throat. “Sorry to uh…interrupt. I just…I’m kind of lost and I was wondering if you could help me?” The man sits up straighter and her turns to look at her.

His lips are parted slightly, dark eyes staring up at Y/n. “U-uh…I’m…I’m sorry?” Y/n smiles, moving forward and holding her hand out.

“I’m Y/n.” He takes her hand and shakes it.

“Hi, I’m Min Yoongi.” Y/n nods, sitting down on the bench next to him.

“So…that song was really pretty. Are you a student here? You don’t look old enough to be a professor.” Yoongi shifts, a small sigh falling past his lips.

“I…uh…I’m a student.” He murmurs. “I’m…a music major.” Y/n’s smile widens and she glances at Yoongi briefly.

“So, what are you doing here?” Y/n chuckles, “I mean, an empty room with only a piano?” Yoongi shrugs, looking away as he scratches the back of his neck.

“I…I spend most of my time here.” Yoongi murmurs, placing his hands back on the piano. “I couldn’t tell you why,” he laughs lightly, his eyebrows furrowing as he turns back to Y/n. “So, um…Y/n, right?” She nods. Yoongi’s eyes wander past her face and to the door, his eyes glazing over briefly. “You said you’re lost?” She hums in response and Yoongi’s lips press together and he looks back at her. “Where are you trying to go?”

“I’m looking for the dorms,” she replies, smiling slightly as his gaze darts away from her quickly.

“It’s on campus housing,” he replies, “so it’s actually just outside this hallway. When you first enter the building…” Yoongi pauses for a moment, almost as if catching his breath, “you just go up the staircase and then to the right?” Yoongi shakes slightly and offers a soft smile. “It’s…unconventional.” He frowns. “But, yeah. This is the main building, actually. It’s mainly studying facilities and such.” He clears his throat, turning his attention to the piano. “That’s why…this. This is a music room, really. But you can’t…you know, lug a piano around. So, there’s a piano here. Most other instruments the students just carry down here.” Y/n hums.

“You must have that piece remembered, then?” He nods slowly.

“Most of my music is memorized,” he shifts in his seat and clears his throat. “I don’t really have much access to music anymore.” Y/n’s expression twists in confusion and she puts her hands on the keys.

“How is that?” She murmurs, “I thought you were a music major?” She chuckles, pressing down on a key. “Don’t you need…music for that?” Yoongi looks off in the distance, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Yeah.” His voice is so quiet Y/n can barely hear his response. “Anyways, I really should get back to practicing…uh, if that’s okay?”

“Oh- oh, yeah. Sorry. Thanks for the help, Yoongi.” She stands up, clearing her throat and moving over towards the door. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” Yoongi shifts to sit in the middle of the bench, not answering her as he begins playing the song again, his shoulders hunching as he shrinks in on himself. Y/n pauses by the door briefly, something tugging at her heart. She shakes her head and scoffs, shutting the door behind her.

As she walks away, the song becomes more distant. Y/n can stop the small smile that spreads across her face as she pulls her phone out. She types her password in quickly and opens the notification.

Namjoon: I’m sorry Y/n, I was in class. Meet me by the doors and I’ll show you where the dorms are.

[mfingenius]

hi sorry i’m annoying but could you do a drarry fic based on that chinese proverb about the red string of fate that ties their pinkies together? ((if you don’t want to/can’t it’s totally ok i just love your work and i know you have other projects planned))

Draco has always been able to see them, the red string; he’d mentioned it when he was a child, to his father, and Lucius had sneered and told him not to ever say it again.

Draco didn’t understand why; he knows now, though. Being able to see the strings is a sign of being a Seer - Draco’s visions started not long after his eighth birthday - and, to his father, it’s shameful.

So Draco has kept it a secret.

He could always see the red string around his pinkie, but he didn’t know whom it connected him to, at least until he was eleven. When he’d laid eyes on Harry Potter, everything in Draco’s heart had begun fluttering uselessly.

He hadn’t said a single word to him, even when Potter had smiled uncertainly at him, making it evident that Draco had been staring for too long.

Potter was sorted into Gryffindor, before the hat even touched his hair. With Draco, the hat had spent a good ten minutes thinking, making everyone whisper and stare, before finally sorting him into Ravenclaw.

Draco had thought he’d been wrong then, but, by now, well into his sixth year, he knows it wasn’t.

“Draco Malfoy I swear to god,” Hermione growls when he begins riffling through his bag. “If you didn’t do the homework again-”

Draco huffs the hair out of his eyes and rolls them. Hermione’s a Gryffindor, and one of Potter’s friends - her red string ties her with Ron Weasley, but Draco doesn’t think she knows it yet - but they’ve gotten to know each other because of their mutual love for potions, back when Hermione thought that Ravenclaws would be kindred spirits. She’s since discovered they aren’t, but by then her and Draco were already friends and she doesn’t abandon her friends.

“This subject’s fucking boring.” He complains. It’s not necessarily true; Draco loves History of Magic, but only when he can teach it to himself. Professor Binns somehow manages to turn a very exciting subject into a dreadfully boring one, however. “And I was doing something related anyways.”

He takes out his muggle notebook - since his parents divorced and his mum got a flat in the Muggle side of London, Draco has bought many muggle things - and flips it near the end. It’s an old, leatherbound notebook, that has everything of Draco’s notes on things he’s interested in. He’s had it since third year, and it’s full to bursting, but Draco keeps adding more pages magically and placing a lightening charm on it.

“Did you know that the sirens had a war with the Veela?” He asks excitedly, showing her his notes and sketches as they walk to the desk. Hermione leaves her homework on it, and then they walk out of the classroom. “It’s played down now, people say it was about beauty, but it totally wasn’t! They were allies, and then the wizards came and-”

“Draco,” Hermione interrupts, as they begin walking through the halls. “The homework was about the 1676 Legislation Act.”

Draco stares at her.

“You would rather read about the 1676 Legislation Act than the Siren War?” He asks incredulously.

“No!” Hermione says indignantly. “But it was the homework!”

“Who gives a fuck?” Draco asks, a little too loudly.

“Mr. Malfoy!” McGonagall’s voice, and Draco winces, turning to her - she has a stern frown on her face - and giving a sheepish smile. 

“Hello, Headmistress.” He says.

McGonagall purses her lips. “Detention, Mr. Malfoy.”

“But I-” Draco begins.

McGonagall gives him a pointed look, and Draco sighs. 

“Fine.”

*

When Draco goes into detention and finds himself face to face with Harry Potter, his entire face goes scarlet, and he stops breathing.

“It’s hot in here,” Harry agrees, misunderstanding the color in Draco’s face. “Why are you here?”

Draco pinches himself on the thigh to make himself say something.

“I - uh - I must have the wrong classroom.” He says, slowly, even though he remembers McGonagall specifically saying Potion’s Classroom.

In all of his years at Hogwarts, he’s never spoken to his soulmate. He wanted to keep it that way, until he could control every single thing about the situation and had the speech prepared. He doesn’t have a speech prepared.

This is going to be a disaster.

“You don’t, Mr. Malfoy.” McGonagall walks in, then, and she looks over the both of them critically. If Draco’s not wrong, she looks at their pinkies for a second - where Draco knows the red string is connecting them - but he must be, because she can’t see them. Nearly no one can. “Mmm, yes. This will work. Mr. Potter, your grades in potions are dreadful.” 

Harry looks offended.

McGonagall ignores him. “Mr. Malfoy, yours are perfect.” 

Potions is the only subject in which Draco’s grades are perfect, and only because the Professor - an ex-Ravenclaw who everyone calls Sparrow because she hasn’t given them her real name - praises curiosity and creativity more than following instructions - something that drives Hermione insane - and Draco always ends up not following the recipe because he wants to know what would happen if he added extra powdered moonstone to a healing-potion-turned-Immortality-Elixir-because-Draco-experimented-a-little-too-much. 

In case anyone’s wondering, it explodes.

“You’ll be tutoring Mr. Potter.”

Draco nods.

And then,

“Excuse me?” 

McGonagall cocks an eyebrow at him.

Draco can’t tutor Potter. Fuck. He can’t do this, he’ll make a fool out of himself and then somehow drive Potter away even though they’re soulmates, or he’ll somehow end up telling Potter about it because he’s distracted, or he’ll somehow kill Potter with one of his potions.

Potter’s frowning at him. “I’m not that useless, Malfoy. I’ll pay attention, I swear. What’s the worst that could happen?”

I could die, Draco wants to say.

Whether it’s from embarrassment or literally, he doesn’t know yet.

“Nothing,” he says hastily. “No problem at all. I, uh.”

He doesn’t know what to say.

“Very well,” McGonagall says. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“What?” Draco asks. He didn’t think McGonagall meant right now.

“Yes,” McGonagall says. “Mr. Potter wants to be an Auror. For that, you’ll need an O in Potions if you want to apply, Mr. Potter. You need to begin preparing now.”

Potter nods, and Draco stares at him.

“You’ll be brewing Amortentia.” McGonagall informs them.

“What?” Draco nearly shrieks. She has to be doing this on purpose, there is no way -

“It’s one of the hardest potions to brew,” McGonagall says with a raised eyebrow. “And I’m fairly sure it’s one of the few you can’t blow up. Or make a reviving draught from. Or somehow give yourself wings with. Or accidentally give either Mr. Weasley’s six arms-”

“That was in third year,” Draco complains, cheeks burning.

Fred and George had found it funny, but McGonagall had given Draco detention for the rest of the year, forbidden Professor Sparrow from giving him access to any more potions ingredients - she still does - and forbidden him from testing his potions on people again, even willing ones.

Draco does it in secret now, mostly with his fellow Ravenclaws, equally unruly and thirsty for knowledge.

“Go on.” McGonagall says. “I’ll be back in four hours.”

She closes the door behind her when she leaves.

*

Draco wants to work in silence, but his mind seems to be working too quickly for him to keep his mouth shut. He tells Harry what they need, what to do, and explains in painful detail any doubt Harry expresses.

He begins wondering what would happen if he added more rose thorns and forewent the pearl dust; it would probably make it more unstable, but if he doubles the ashwinder eggs and the peppermint he could probbaly make it into a very powerful-

“You’re thinking of turning it into something else,” Potter says, snapping Draco out of his thought process.

“Of course not,” Draco says weakly, cheeks warming.

“You are,” Harry grins. “I know that face. I’ve seen you make it in Potions right before you begin to change ingredients.”

“I don’t - you watch me in potions?” Draco’s dumbstruck.

Harry’s cheeks darken, visible even with his dark skin, and he looks down to where he’s measuring the powdered moonstone.

“It’s… entertaining.” Harry defends. “You’re the most interesting thing in that class.” He goes redder. “I mean - I don’t - it sounds wrong.”

Draco thinks it sounds perfect.

“Why an Auror?” he asks, trying to make Harry more comfortable, because he’s looking like he wants to flee.

“My mum is one.” Harry grins tentatively. “She’s… very passionate about what’s right and what’s wrong. I think she passed it on to me.”

One could say that, Draco thinks.

He’s seen how passionate Potter is about everything that matters to him, and he’s always admired it. In fact, he thinks it’s his favorite thing about Potter.

“What about you?” Potter asks.

“What?” Draco asks.

“What do you want to do?” Potter asks. He waves a hand. “In life, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” Draco says honestly. “I don’t think I could stand being stuck in a building.” Potter nods understandingly, and Draco continues. “I just - want to do something where I can do my thing.”

Potter hums, and he sounds sincere when he says, “I hope you find something you like.”

Draco smiles hesitantly.

*

“We brewed this,” Harry’s immensely impressed. He’d never thought him and Draco Malfoy would be able to finish the potion; between the fact that Draco’s easily distracted and Harry’s uselessness in potions, he thought surely this would blow up.

It hasn’t.

“We brewed this.” He repeats.

Draco laughs.

It’s a pretty laugh.

“Yes, we did,” he says. His cheeks are red from the heat of the potion, and his sleeves are rolled up. He looks untidy, happy, and Harry wants to kiss him.

He doesn’t.

“Go on,” Draco smiles and leans back, perching himself on the edge of a stool. “What do you smell?”

Harry leans over the cauldron and takes a deep breath.

“Treacle tart,” he says immediately. “Broom polish. Rain, I think.”

The Gryffindor common Room. 

Draco Malfoy.

He pulls back.

“I don’t know what the rest is,” he lies.

Draco nods, and before Harry can ask what he smells, the door opens.

“That was four hours.” McGonagall looks over the potion critically, and then over the two of them. “Good. Clean this up, and then you can go.”

They clean quickly - Draco seems desperate to get out of there - and when they’re out the door, Harry does something impulsive.

“Draco!” He calls.

Draco turns to him, cheeks still red - odd - and gives a tiny smile. “Yeah?”

“Tutor me again next Saturday?” Harry asks hopefully. He’ll get the courage to ask him out, then. He will.

Draco’s face shows surprise, and then it morphs into happiness. “Oh. Yes. Yeah, alright. It’s a date.” And then his face goes scarlet and he stutters out an apology before feeling.

Harry smiles all the way back to his dorm.

-----------------------------------------

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[authorized-trash]

To Tie a Knot: Chapter 7: Fate Really Needs to Make Up Her Damn Mind

Ao3

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six

Content Warnings:

Self deprecation, mild language, elusion to character death, misunderstandings, anxiety, pain

Chapter Summary:

Roman nearly dismisses a life changing phone call from his brother, way to go Cain Instinct.

Word Count:

2,200+

Note:

Lol I’m not sorry.

(This chapter has been up for weeks on Ao3, it came out same day as chapter six, I guess I forgot to put it here, whoops)

-

-

Damian woke up slowly, blinking groggily as awareness came back to him.

He moved to sit up, but stopped as he realized he couldn’t move his right leg or arm. He couldn’t move much of anything, actually.

His eyes widened as he did a quick roll call of his limbs and where they were at. His right arm was under Logan’s chest, his legs tangled with the others. His head was tucked under Logan’s chin, nose to his collarbone.

Logan had a pretty firm hold around Damian. He must have been pretty clingy during sleep then.

Damian removed himself from the embrace as gently as possible as to not wake Logan, tip toeing to the bathroom. He took care of his business and hopped in the shower. By the time he was out Logan was waking up, stretching with a yawn.

He looked over at Damian with an odd expression, as if forgetting who he was. His eyes trailed down to his hand at the “snake yellow” string that connected the two. He visibly brightened.

“Good morning Damian, I trust that you slept well.”

Damian thought about it. He had slept well, great, in fact. He slept better than he had slept in a very long time.

“Yes, I did sleep well,” Damian said, brushing a hand through his hair, which was still damp from his shower.

“Well, according to the alarm clock we have an hour to leave. I’ll go ahead and get ready for the day. I’ll be back shortly,” Logan said as he entered the bathroom, the lock clicking behind him.

Damian sat in silence. The exhaustion was still there. The horrible guilt, as /fucking/ always was still there. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was excited to meet them. Like, really excited. 

He went to get ready to leave, hoping he could ignore the issues at hand. He slid on his shoes and gloves, reaching for his hat. He half wished he had some other clothes, but it wasn’t like they were dirty, he had only worn them to the coffeeshop and to the hotel. 

He ignored the way his hands trembled and his breath quickened. He heard the shower head turn on, signalling Logan was in the shower. Damian moved to sit on the edge of the bed, staring at his gloved hands without thinking about much.

The fatestrings tied to his fingers came up and over the top of the glove. It didn’t feel like anything was there, it was nearly completely unnoticeable. The strings were weird like that, you wouldn’t feel them and they wouldn’t bother you as long as you didn’t want them to.

He ran his fingers along them, his touch featherlight. He watched as the little piece of torn string on his left hand dangled over them and gulped audibly.

He gave the four strings a soft tug, more out of curiosity than anything.

He got a couple tugs in response from Red and Purple, and a shake from Blue. It had occurred to him that he had yet to ask Logan which string belonged to who. Guess he’d find out shortly.

The showerhead turned off, and Damian looked up at the door.

“Need something Damian? You tugged,” Logan called through the door. His voice was muffled by what was probably a towel.

“Huh? Oh, no, sorry,” Damian said, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Alright, well, the others and I have a system, you see. One tug is you need something, two is a reassurance, and three is an emergency. Patton also occasionally shakes his but that’s just him,” Logan said with a fond chuckle. 

“Sorry,” Damian said and winced. Of course, look at him, already fucking up their rules.

“What? No it’s fine, you didn’t know,” The door to the bathroom swung open and Logan was standing there, hair dripping. He was fully clothed, which was a mild surprise. He hadn’t been in there too long, when the door started to open Damian half expected for him to come out in his underwear or something.

He nodded, fixing his hat onto his head.

“Well, I’m ready to leave,” Damian said, standing. Logan gave him a thumbs up as he began to throw his few belongings into his backpack. He occasionally reached up to the toothbrush in his mouth to multitask, but didn’t do it often. It just kinda sat there.

After a few tense moments of Damian staring at Logan while he got ready, Logan straightened up and dusted his shirt off.

“Alright, I’m ready as well.”

The two left the hotel room without another word, and Logan signed out at the front desk. Damian slid into the passenger seat as Logan threw his backpack in the backseat. He turned the keys, and they were off.

“How long until we get there?” Damian asked.

Logan raised an eyebrow, “Thirty minutes. Are you excited? You keep fidgeting in your seat.”

“Excited is one word for it, sure,” Damian said, tugging his hat a little more over his eyes.

“You’ll like them. Roman and Patton can be a bit much at times, but Virgil is… ah, what’s the word? Cold?”

“Chill-?”

“Yes! That’s it,” Logan snapped his fingers, “Virgil is ‘chill’.”

“I’m sure I’ll lo- like them, Logan,” Damian caught himself before he made a mistake, “You are amazing, and a man like you probably has wonderful standards.”

“Technically I don’t need standards, as they are my soulmates, but I get what you mean. If standards were necessary, then yes, they meet them very well,” Logan said, heading up a ramp onto the interstate. 

Damian gave a thoughtful nod and clasped his hands, twiddling his fingers around. The anxiety and anticipation was building in his chest, and he could’ve sworn Logan could hear how loud his heart was beating.

They chatted idly, the time flying much faster than Damian would have wanted.

They pulled into a neighborhood with houses running up and down both sides of the road, and now was really when Damian felt like he was going to have a heart attack.

His stomach seemed to leap to his throat as Logan turned into a driveway.

“You ready?”

Damian laughed aloud, “Absolutely not.”

Logan gave him a small smile, “We can stay in the car a little while if we must.”

Damian shook his head and reached for the handle, swinging the door open. He let out a shuddering breath.

“Better to just get it over with.”

-

The other three soulmates had been collectively losing their minds since Virgil’s phone call with his sibling the day before.

“We are literally going to meet them tomorrow, I’m so excited!” Patton had quite literally bounced around the entire house, and if he had the ability to, he would probably be doing somersaults.

Roman spun around with him at times, laughing loudly. Virgil would snicker and film them, lovingly of course, hiding his phone in the overly large sleeve of his hoodie.

They thought they had been prepared, but none of them were ready for the front door opening at a little past one in the evening the next day.

“I have returned,” Logan called into the house. Patton nearly tripped with how fast he turned the corner from the kitchen, his shoulder slamming into the wall. Roman was next, his singing abruptly cut off as he turned to see Logan, smiling brightly.

Virgil crept from their room, peering around the corner of the hallway.

“Did you bring them?!” Patton practically shouted, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

At that exact moment, a head poked over Logan’s shoulder, looking in through the door. Logan moved out of the way, and the new arrival stepped in through the door. He had his head held high, and a smug-looking smirk on his face.

Virgil, for one, noticed the tense set of his shoulders and the way his hands were shoved into his pockets forcefully. 

Everyone, however, noticed how said pockets had four strings that spread to all four of them.

“This is Damian, he is our fifth soulmate.”

There was silence for exactly four seconds.

Then, chaos.

“Hello!” Patton nearly shrieked, his hands fluttering so fast you could nearly see through them. He looked like he wanted to run forward and wrap his hands around the other man, but barely managed to restrain himself.

Roman gave a fake swoon, “Gods am I smitten already, what is it with Lady Fate giving me such perfect boyfriends?”

Damian smiled at the both of them, “Hello, I’m guessing you’re Patton? Logan did say you were adorable,” he winked, ignoring Logan’s indignant squawk behind him, he turned to Roman, “and you are Roman, then? I must say, I’m charmed.”

For good measure, he reached forward and grabbed Roman’s hand, kissing his knuckles just above the yellow string.

“Goddamnit, two overly-dramatic asses,” Virgil grumbled from the hallway entrance. He was now leaning against the wall, a smirk on his face giving away his amusement.

Damian finally noticed him, eyes snapping up to meet his. Fuck, he really did have a thing for emos. 

“That makes you Virgil. As stunning in person as Logan had described,” Damian purred, stalking forward. Virgil curled into his hoodie, hiding how red his face was quickly getting.

The new arrival stopped a few feet from Virgil. Virgil’s eyes widened as he realized he was a good six inches taller than Damian.

The emo turned to knock his head against the wall, “Oh God, why did you have to be short?”

Damian’s face immediately turned defensive.

“You got an issue with that?” He hissed, crossing his arms. Behind him, Roman began to laugh himself to tears.

“Our tall emo has a thing for shorter men. Especially cute shorties,” he said between laughs.

“Shut it,” Virgil snapped. It was Damian’s turn to flush red.

“Well! Damian! I’m so happy to meet you! To be honest with you, I didn’t think we were going to find you so fast, I’m glad though!” Patton said, clapping his hands together. Logan put a hand on his shoulder and nodded in agreement.

“I ran into Damian’s friend in a coffee shop, he saw my four strings and put two-and-two together pretty fast.”

Damian turned to look back at Virgil when the emo snickered.

“I knew you all met at a coffee shop, Elliot was the barista. They called me to check in and recognised you half way through the call,” he explained, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “‘Said you were looking ‘thoroughly smitten’ with an unknown stranger. Knowing you, Mr. No Feelings, I knew you would only look that way with a soulmate.” 

“Yeah! And Roman fell off the couch with how excited he was when he realized,” Patton said, poking Roman in the ribs.

Laughing softly, Damian took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair.

“Glad I could have such an effect,” he said. He closed his eyes as he did so, which was convenient for the other three, as they all had locked eyes with a frayed little string attached to his left hand.

“Hey, Damian, do you mind if I-” Logan was cut off by a loud ringtone. Roman groaned as he reached for his phone, checking the caller ID.

“Huh, its Remus,” He said, lifting an eyebrow in confusion. Damian shivered at the name, a chill going down his spine. 

Weird, it must be colder in here than he thought.

Roman clicked a few buttons.

“Surely it’s fine, I’ll call him back shortly,” Roman waved it off, putting his phone back into his pocket.

It rang seconds later.

Roman groaned, getting it back out, “What does he want?”

“Maybe you should answer it,” Virgil said. He began to fidget nervously with his hoodie sleeves, “It might be important-”

Roman laughed, “It’s Remus, when is it ever important?”

Damian looked back and forth between the four of them as Roman hung up yet again.

This time the call back was instant.

Roman groaned, answering it this time.

“Remus this better be important, I’ll catch up with you la- what?” Roman went pale startlingly quick, “... Wait no, back track, what do you mean ‘cut’? That’s not even possible- When did this happen… That long? Why didn’t you tell me then!”

The other’s all looked around at each other, looks of fear on all of their faces.

Roman went quiet for a short while, before running towards the closet by the front door. He threw it open and slid into his jacket and sneakers.

He looked over at his four soulmates, worry all over his face.

“Alright, Remus, I’ll be there. Give me thirty minutes… Alright, bye.”

He hung up, already turning towards the door. 

“Roman?” Patton asked in a small voice, “Is everything alright?”

Roman shook his head, and his voice was thick with tears, “He finally did it. That bastard. He finally pissed off the wrong damn people.”

And with that, the door closed behind him.

They all exchanged glances, and Damian had never felt so small.

Awesome first meeting, really.

-

The man who was on the other side of the phone sniffed, wiping the tears from his eyes with a trembling hand.

He looked up at the ceiling and pursed his lips, a small smile on his face, at least his brother was coming.

The dull, throbbing ache in his left hand had yet to stop, even a month later.

He looked down at the four inch string that hung limply from his hand, the end frayed. The once brilliant yellow an ugly faded beige.

He sniffed, mourning the person he’d never know.

-

-

Taglist in the reblog

[scribblingfangirl]

NOT FAIR | The Witcher - Jaskier

not my gif!

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Author’s Note: I apologize if some of this might be off, my knowledge is based solely on the TV series and the bits of information I found on fandom pages and Witcher Wikipedias. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this first piece of scribbling I did after years of only writing for high school and university. It might sound a little bit academic from time to time. And just be plain weird, please, bear with me!

word count: ~ 2.5k

prompt: Person A and B have a red string of fate on their little fingers. It tightens up when they are looking at each other, making it feel as if there is a pull on the finger. However, only one of them can see it and is not able to talk about it to their soulmate.

warnings:  one swear word, angst, there are (probably) some inconsistencies in the story and (definitely) some sentences that are waaaay to long, punctuation mistakes (in general just a weak English vocabulary), rushed and weird ending

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You both grew up in neighbouring houses in Lettenhove. Your parents were ‘good’ friends, as noble people usually are, always mingling around each other, spying, fake-laughing, and holding each other accountable. This meant that you and Julian were able to spend time together too.  

Even back then, when you were still young enough to be able to run around the garden in nothing but your undergarments without getting judgemental looks from your mother, as this, later on, would not look good anymore for a noble young lady, you had this little red string on your little finger, that connected yours to Julian’s. Of course, you didn’t know what that meant. 

Still, you went through thick and thin together, without the slightest mention of that string. Soon the scenery of your playground changed from your gardens to the streets of the town. People knew you both and knew you were a package deal. If one of you appeared the other wasn’t far away. You were each other’s shoulders to lean and to cry on and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

However, that wasn’t the whole truth. You did ask him once, in the early beginnings of your friendship, if he felt the pull on his finger as well, whenever you were near him or if he found the red string just as fascinating as you. The only response you got from him that day was a puzzled look and you swore to never talk about it again. It would take a few years for you to find out, that you wouldn’t be able to do it a second time anyway, no matter how hard you tried. 

It was when Julian started to receive his early education in a temple school and you were getting a training worthy for a noblewoman at home when you found out about the true meaning of the red string. “The first thing you ought to know,” your mother had said when she sat you down for your first lesson, “is the tale of the red string of fate. The two people that are connected by the string are supposed to be destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break.” Astonished you had marvelled at the red thread around your finger and when your mother saw your facial expression, she quickly added, “however, only one of the two connected people is able to see the string and some greater force out there forbids them to talk about it. Not that you should worry about this my dear, your father and I already have a promising future prepared for you! After all, it is just some silly old tale!” 

As much as it was a silly old tale for your mother, it wasn’t one for you. You started to hear a lot about the myths and listen to the tales people told each other and you were over the moon. How lucky you were to have your best friend as your soulmate! The one person you could always count on! 

On the day Julian finally returned from the temple school, you stopped by his house to tell him about your luck. Though, just as your mother had warned, the words didn’t want to leave your mouth. It was as if you just forgot what you wanted to say as soon as you opened it, even though your mind was screaming at you to finally say it out loud. So, instead, you invited him to the ball that would be held at your house later that week. An event none of you actually wanted to attend, which Julian pointed out to you and you just muttered something about having changed while he was gone and that it was expected from a noble young lady as you looked down to your hands and examined the red string. He softly grabbed your chin and tilted your head up, so that he was able to look into your eyes. The feeling that emerged when you looked into his blue ones, that might as well had something to do with the pull on your finger you had almost forgotten during his time away, painfully reached your heart. His usually light blue eyes were darker, full of new, and to you unknown, information about the world and felt farther away than ever. How could you have known that that would only be the beginning of the end for you? 

Neither you nor Julian were very popular among your peers in the town and none of you ever made a lasting impression during past social gatherings or balls that were held or visited by your families. Which is why it came as a surprise to both of you when suddenly Syrena de Stael, the daughter of the visiting Earl de Stael, asked Julian to dance with her. Of course, as the gentlemen he was, and the additional scrutinizing glare of his mother, he couldn’t say no to her. How you then ended up knocking a young suitor for yourself to the floor, after he started a fight with Julian, thus allowing the latter and Syrena to leave without being disturbed, was, however, beyond you. 

Shortly after that, it became official. Julian declared himself in love with the Countess de Stael and your time as his best friend came to an end. Sure, he still considered you his best friend, but you started to spend less and less time together. Syrena here, Syrena there. That was, after all, the Julian you knew. Once he had an obsession, a fleeting thought of a possibility, he couldn’t stop chasing it. In the end, you were only able to meet as long she was there too, so, after some weeks, you didn’t saw each other anymore at all. 

Before losing contact, however, you had asked him if he thought that Syrena and he were meant to be. “Yes, I think so. I love her, what’s more to want than that?” he had asked back. Your soulmate was the small and simple answer. He had laughed. Laughed the laugh you missed so much that it had hurt your heart hearing it again after such a long time. “That’s just… shit. I’m sorry Y/N, but you can’t actually believe this? I mean, come on! One sees the red string, but can’t talk about it? If you can’t talk about it, how come everybody knows about this tale, this myth? And if you can talk about it to other people, how come soulmates don’t tell their friend or families who their soulmate is, and they pass it on? No, it just can’t be real! Syrena is my love and I don’t need fate to tell me that.”

You had just nodded, he had a point after all. You had felt the pull on your finger one last time and had suppressed your tears after he had said that, trying to smile at him. To implement his suggestion now, telling your family or friends that he was your soulmate, would have been clearly futile now. He wouldn’t have believed you, or them, and might have possibly gotten angry at you. 

After some days, however, you started to feel how the string pulled at your little finger, regardless of how close you were to him. It pulled you towards him and you asked yourself once, after weeks of feeling the pulling, if he felt it too, but you knew it to be hopeless. The string became longer and longer, but it never lost its pull and strength, until one day you woke up and saw it laying on the floor, tied loosely to your finger. That was the day Julian left to study at Oxenfurt University without saying good-bye. It was the first time you let yourself cry over Julian Alfred Pankratz. Additionally, it was the last time you would ever call him by that name and it was the day part of you turned into nothing.

You didn’t see him, or anything of Lettenhove for that matter, for years after that. While he went on to study, you went travelling around Redania and then the whole Continent, after learning more about this ‘promising future’ your parents had prepared for you. You left your noble life behind, taking the odd job opportunity here and there, which mostly consisted of helping out in taverns, and it gave you enough coin for a more or less comfortable journey.

Jaskier, as he called himself now, after quitting university life and pursuing his musical talents, never left your mind. It hurt that you missed him so much, but every time you thought that the string must have finally snapped, you looked at your hand and it was still there, giving you the faintest feeling of hope.

Then how you met him again. He passed through the village you were currently staying in, his Witcher friend in tow, though it might just have been the other way around and played in the tavern you were currently working at. He looked the same, not a day older and was wearing a colourful, unlaced doublet and his undershirt slightly unbuttoned, letting everyone get a peek at his soft chestnut brown chest hair. 

He saw you as he went to get himself some ale after his performance and invited you for a drink after your shift ended, an offer which you stupidly enough gladly accepted. Talking and laughing together was almost like during the good old times, hadn’t it been for the fact that almost all he talked about was his travels with Geralt and the way he missed the Countess de Stael. That night you ran up into your room and slammed the door, screaming at nothing and everybody at the same time, ignoring the fact that the other guests, and even Jaskier, might hear you. You grabbed the gods forsaken red string and hoped to pull it off your finger, so it wouldn’t remind you of your sad fate anymore, as some things obviously wouldn’t change. 

Again, years passed after that fleeting encounter in which you didn’t even heard of him, as you went as far as leaving every tavern, place and social gathering at the slightest mention of the word ‘bard’. Or at least, you did the best you could to avoid any possibilities. 

As fate would have it, however, you met Jaskier again. He had walked into the tavern in Cintra you were in, this time as a guest rather than a barmaid. You had just gained a new job offer, protecting Cintra from the inevitable attack from Nilfgaard and wanted to drink what was possibly the last ale in your life.

At first, you didn’t even realise that you were looking at the face of your soulmate as he took a seat at the bar, straight in front of you, his lute thrown carelessly at his feet. Then a little breeze caught the red string and pulled at your finger and you heard his voice, so miserable, so broken. You drowned the last of your drink, wanting to forget this image, not wanting it to be the last memory you remembered of him as you went into this war.

Jaskier had wandered into Cintra in the hopes of meeting Geralt, knowing that he couldn’t keep running from his child surprise, from his destiny. Hearing your voice as you thanked the barmaid and passed her coin as payment, before grabbing your belongings and exiting the tavern without acknowledging him in the slightest, wasn’t part of his plans. He didn’t know how long he was staring after you, but it was only the hand on his shoulder that brought him back to the present. “My friend,” said the barman, “you do not look like a soldier to me. Run as long as you still can. Get out of here.”

As useful as that advice might have been, everything that happened afterwards was a blur to Jaskier, but he knew that it was too late. It was dark and yet ghostly shadows were dancing across the walls and the streets due to the growing fires, accompanied by horrific screams and the gruesome sounds of clashing swords. Villagers were running around, and he had just been pushed into a narrow back alley when he felt a pull. A pull he first felt when he was a little kid running around in his garden, a pull that was always there when he heard Y/N’s laugh or saw her sparkling eyes. A pull that disappeared for a long time before reappearing that time in the tavern.

His heart sank and he forgot about the whole situation around him, about the attack on Cintra, his search for Geralt, about the Nilfgaardian soldiers that were still running around. He just felt a pull and looked at his hand. There it was, a beautiful and delicate red string wrapped around his little finger, pulling him out of the narrow alley… pulling him to you.

You were laying in midst of the chaos, soldiers, as well as villagers, scattered around you, some breathing, some not, an arrow in your chest and you were groaning in pain, eyes closed. With a sob he sank to his knees beside you, softly touching your fragile and trembling form, moving your head to rest on his knees, afraid to hurt you even more. Gently he rested his forehead against yours and it was at that moment, blame the gods for their wicked ways, that he remembered the one question you asked him a long time ago. “Do you feel the pull around your little finger as well, whenever I’m near you? Do you find the string fascinating too?”

“Yes”, he started to sob, feeling your body react to his voice, but not caring if his sudden outburst made any sense to you, “I do feel the pull whenever I’m near you sweetheart, I do! But now it’s too late! How could I’ve been so stupid?!”

His breath was warm against your face and the fear and pain that you should have been feeling vanished the moment his sweet voice reached your ears. “Shh, shh. It’s not,” you croaked, breathing shallow and opened your eyes. While trying to smile, your hand automatically searched for his, but you were too weak to move, nonetheless, feeling a faint pull too. “It’s never too late. At least we now know how it works. How people found out about the myth. The death of one means freedom and knowledge for the other.”

“No,” he lifted his head, his hair glued to his sweaty forehead, not breaking the eye contact you established earlier. “No! I don’t want freedom and knowledge if it means to have a life without the possibility of having you in it!”

“Then save me.”

[fheythfully]

sea’s WoL challenge - starlight

“But Blake!”

Chuckling, the young man shook his head. “Come on, Claire, I’ve told you hundreds of times--I can’t take out a fifth card so you can check out more books. Do you know the things I had to do to even get you a fourth? It was like facing the Sanguine Sirens themselves.”

Across the room from him, Claire’s lips slipped downward into a pout. One finger ran across the well-worn spine of a nearby tome on Thavnair folktales as she leveled a demanding gaze at her betrothed. “How mean,” she muttered, childish whining colouring her voice younger than her twenty and two summers.

Warmed by the weak evening Limsan sun at his back, Blake couldn’t help but laugh. “Yet you still chose to accept marrying me,” he teased. The front door of their humble cottage stood propped open as he gathered his things for the evening, a nightly routine down to Claire’s little requests from the city. “How about this--” Turning from his rucksack, he shot a wide smile at the woman. “I’ll bring you back some of that coffee you love as an apology. For not enabling your bad habit for books, that is.”

Claire’s nose scrunched up as she rolled her eyes. “Don’t patronize me, Mr. Bastion.” Stretching, she stood and made her way into the embrace of his arms. The blue of her eyes met his as she rested her chin on his sternum. “However, I accept your offer of peace. Don’t stay out too late, alright?” Reaching up, she placed a kiss on his cheek to mark her words. “I know you’re an aspiring scholar, but I like to spend time with you too, you know.”

Softening, Blake pressed his lips tenderly against her head. “I’ll make sure to come home early tonight just for you, sweetheart.”

Tenderness melted into girlish amusement as Claire grinned and stepped back from him. “Good. Now shoo before I think coffee isn’t enough to make up for your grave transgression against my reading habits.”

Laughing, Blake held his arms up in surrender. “I’m going, I’m going.”

He had lost count of the amount of days he had spent now visiting the Arcanists’ Guild in Limsa, burying himself in their tomes on restorative magicks. Coming into his aether at the late age of seventeen was more of a hindrance than a help, but he remained ever stubborn to grasp that which continued to elude him. In the past two moons it had felt like the gears in his brain had slowly begun turning, recognizing the words he’d read as more than just ink on paper. It will take years, the academics at the tower had warned him. That’s fine, he’d said. He could wait. The skill to mend the hurts of others and his own was worth the wait and the struggle to understand.

The red moon hung as heavy and oppressive in the sky as all other days, a red eye glaring at them from its mighty altar in the sky. Blake squinted at it as he tried to calculate whether it had grown closer since the day before, paying no mind to the increasingly agitated waters of the Rhotano breaking against the sturdy stone of Limsa’s bridges. Few common folk did now, except for the fishers growing fearful of unexpected sealife migrations and those unfortunate enough to be in power in the current circumstances.

If the streets stood emptier that evening with a lack of Yellowjackets patrolling, Blake paid it no mind either. As focused as he was on the Arcanist tower in the distance, it took multiple abrupt screams for him to notice the fires suddenly streaking across the sky.

“Tis the moon!” A cry sounded within the crowds stopped at the Plaza. A second glance at the red moon confirmed the assertion for the man, for it had seemed to crack open above and beyond them like an egg, spitting fragments to streak across the sky.

Within seconds, the city had descended into chaos.

Blake paid it little heed as he turned on his heel and sprinted back towards the cottage he had departed barely a bell past. La Noscea flashed by him in fragments of screams and fire, his legs carrying him the fastest they ever had. And in his heart he prayed to his deities, to all the Twelve, that no such fate awaited his home, that Claire remained safe--

The cottage was already in shambles and ablaze when he set eyes upon it, the roof crumbled in on itself and wooden supports screeching their anger. “Claire!” He screamed as he slipped inside the remnants of their front door, decorated with bright wreaths only a bell ago. “Claire! Can you hear me?”

It took him a long moment to spot the young miqo’te through the heavy haze. He rushed over and fell to his knees beside her crumbled form, desperately reaching for the shattered support beam crushing her legs in place. “I’ll get you out,” he babbled, scrambling for purchase on the charred wood. “I can fix this, I can fix this--”

A small, dirty hand fell over his arm. “Did you get my coffee?” Claire murmured, eyes barely open as she willed herself to focus on his face. A trembling smile held firm on her face even as her breath became shallow. “Blake--”

“I’ll get you all the coffee you want,” he pleaded. Desperation bled freely into his voice as he grabbed for the arcanist tome at his belt and began flipped through the pages, seeking a formula to restore her. “Just hold on, Claire--”

His heart thundered in his throat as he found the one he sought and began casting. Just give her a little strength, he prayed. Then I can get her out and carry her away. Please, please--

A beam above them splintered with an angry scream. The aether within his body rose up as if in answer and screamed back in a flood of healing light that erupted from Blake’s hand and into Claire’s body, furiously led by the roar of his desire. Blake watched it wash over her torso and seep into her skin, knitting the surface wounds back together and spread into her legs, her head--

A shriek of pain bellowed forth from Claire’s mouth as the aether kept flowing and flowing, tendrils curling past her lips and into her nose. Her spine snapped ramrod straight, throwing her head back in an unnatural arch, as she kept screaming and screaming and screaming.

“No,” Blake cried. “No, this isn’t what I wanted--no, Claire--”

He dropped the grimoire to cradle the woman’s convulsing body in his arms, grabbing for her head as she continued to scream. “I didn’t mean to--Claire--”

Like a marionette cut from her strings, she collapsed fully in his arms and fell silent. Her body gave one last, heaving shudder, her eyes flaring the purest white of aether, and became limp.

A sob tore from his chest as he held her warm body with one arm and reached for his fallen grimoire with the other. “I can fix this. It doesn’t end this way, not for you and I, we have so much to do--”

Sobs turned into rage as each attempted spell broke before it even started, his body drained of aether now all dissipated within his beloved’s body. Around them, the house continued burning and creaking with forewarning.

“No, no, no! I can fix this! I can fix this! I just need more time--”

The final support beam straining against its fate gave one last shriek and crumbled to the scorching heat, collapsing straight on to Claire’s body and striking Blake deep across the face. Blood rushed across his face and into his mouth as he choked at the impact, and then the smoke overwhelming his senses. Through bleary eyes he tried to focus on the space where his betrothed had been just moments ago, one hand reaching out for her warmth, her smile, her bright eyes--

Darkness reached back, and then it was all he knew.

.

.

“Blake?”

Startled, his eyes snapped from the book held in Ella’s hands as the miqo’te peered curiously at him. “Lost you there for a moment,” she commented. Her eyes sought out his and for a brief, selfish moment, Blake thanked Hydaelyn that her Echo came and went as it pleased.

He cleared his throat. “It’s nothing.”

His companion gave a noncommittal hum as she relaxed further back in her armchair. The twinkling lights of the Starlight tree behind her haloed her form in hues of gold and ruby like a burning fire. “So,” she continued, flipping the book in her hands cover first before him. “1001 Thavnarian Nights for tonight. Yes or no?”

The tonberry lamp at her feet let out a broken, tinny cackle and Ella promptly hit it with her foot. There was a smile on his face as Blake leaned back in his own overstuffed armchair and settled in, the old scar stark over one eye buzzing unpleasantly with memory.

“Go for it.”

[icannott]

Red String (Richie Tozier x Reader)

Requested: yes!! a VERY old rq by @trueartisthatofwriting11 “Hey I was wondering if you could do a soulmate with Richie on the red-string of fate where when the two people are within lik17 feet of each other they’re pulled together by the invisible string. And like the reader is drawing down in the quarry and when the loser club shows up and Richie gets to the edge hes yanked down the cliff because of the soulmate thing and when he tries to flirt the readers all sassy and hes just like oh my god you really are my soulmate sorry if thats to much. Love ya!”

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader

Warning: swearing (are we surprised? no!)

a/n: i!! love!! soulmate aus!!!! and im sorry i neglected this request for so long i am a Fool in mans shoes

and!! this is an entry for @fandomlit’s writing contest!! congrats on 1000 followers girl!

gif cred belongs to @gladerwolfstarkimagines​

Doodling was a good de-stresser of yours. You weren’t a busy person by any means, but sometimes people and school was just too much to handle, and you just need some way to give your mind a rest. So you picked up art. And it worked like a charm.

The main theme for most of your drawings? Soulmates.

You lived in a world where everyone was supposed to have a soulmate. There were many ways that bonded soulmates together; the first words you say to each other could be written on your wrist, bruises they get could appear on your body, whenever you write on your body it appears on theirs, ect. You had tried everything to find out what your bond was. You narrowed it down to the red string or not having a soulmate. You preferred to think positive.

The red string bond was when whenever soulmates are in close range of each other (can range anywhere from 10-200 feet), a red string appears and connects to their pinkies, drawing them together. You always tried to depict this scenario in some of your drawings, but it was so difficult without actually knowing what could happen. Sure you had an imagination, but everything you drew out just felt... wrong.

You usually find a cozy spot somewhere hidden to just expel your emotions onto a page. That day, you were lead to the local quarry. You found a spot on one of the rocks by the shore and decided it would be good enough for the time being. You immersed yourself in your surroundings as you considered what to draw.

You heard the chirping of birds, felt the cool breeze that signified the coming autumn season. You closed your eyes and immersed yourself and almost completely forgot about wanting to draw. You were snapped back into reality by some people biking by, the turning of the wheels and gears against the gravel ground snapping you out of the temporary euphoria of the season. And you got to work on a simple character design.

You could now hear some people chattering in the distance. After laying out the essentials of your person, you looked to find the sources. At the very top of the cliff overhanging the quarry stood a few kids who seemed to be around your age. You sighed and started to gather your things- they were obviously about to go for a swim- when you felt a small tug on your hand.

Right on your pinky. 

Your gaze snapped down to your hand and there stretched the fateful red string you had waited your entire life to see. And when you looked to see who it was connected to, you were met with the sight of one of the teens atop of the cliff being pulled down by the fateful string. He landed in the water with a huge splash. The kids above were laughing, racing around to come join you on the rocks.

When he resurfaced he comically spit out a bunch of water and looked around. He was still fully clothed and now absolutely soaked, his glasses spotted with water droplets. You resisted a smile as you knelt down at the edge of the rocks. Your heart was running wild in your chest when he spotted you and his eyes went wide, magnified further by his watery glasses.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “Are you some kind of angel?” 

You giggled and held up your pinky, still adorned with the red string that now floated in the water where his hand was. “More like the devil in disguise, if you’ve ever listened to Elvis Presley.”

“Who?” he asked, swimming over to the rocks.

“Oh this ain’t gonna work,” you muttered, shaking your head. 

He pulled himself onto the rocks. He knelt in front of you and held his pinky up next to yours, looking to the now shortened string connected to them.

“I’m Richie Tozier,” he introduced.

“[name] [last name],” you grinned.

You both looked to the string. 

“How do we get rid of it?” he asked. Behind you, you could hear footsteps approaching and assumed it was the teens that were on the cliff a second ago.

You sighed before giving him a high five. The string stayed.

“Here,” he said, starting to smirk as he laced your hands together. And the string disappeared.

“Oh,” you breathed. “I like that...”

You finally looked up into each other’s eyes. You grinned and he stayed smirking.

“So how does it feel knowing your soulmate’s this good looking?” he flirted, starting to grin.

You scoffed despite your face heating up. “Oh, please. My straightening iron is hotter than you.”

His jaw dropped and his friends laughed from behind you. You disconnected your hands and stood, looking over to his friends.

“Hi! I’m [name],” you introduced as Richie stood and followed you over. You pointed to him. “That one’s soulmate.”

“Good luck with that,” a guy with curly hair mumbled. 

You giggled as Richie retorted, “Oh, please. She’s lucky to have me.”

You turned to him and still smiling, you said, “You’re lucky I haven’t pushed you back into the water yet.” His friends laughed as he sighed, shaking his head. 

“Ice cold woman.”

“Perfect for you,” the girl in the group grinned, slinging an arm over your shoulders. “I’m Beverly!” As one boy draped a towel over Richie’s shoulders, muttering something about hypothermia, she commented, “You guys are definitely soulmates.”

You smiled up at her. “You think?”

She held up your hand that previously had the red string tied to it. “Honey, I know.”

You laughed. 

After that, you spent the rest of the day with what they were referred to as the losers club. And finally, you felt complete. When you got home, you dropped your sketchbook on your desk and got to work on the perfect soulmate drawing. And this time it felt right.

xtra-

“God, where have you been my whole life?”

“Hiding from you.”